Chapter 373: Questioning

Yun Ding Tian Cheng.

The morning light hadn't yet climbed to the rooftops, and the whole unfinished building complex lay in a hazy, damp, dark tone. Twenty-seven topless high-rises were lined up in the city's northeastern corner, exposed rebar jutting from the slab breaks, rusted like dead bones.

The crane's jib hung slanted in the sky, emitting a metallic fatigue groan whenever the wind passed.

Qin Zhixia stood for ten seconds in front of the ground-floor entrance of B-3 Hao Lou.

Zhao Kun and six Special Forces members were scattered behind cover twenty meters behind her, crouching low. Zhao Kun pressed his voice into the comm: 'Captain Mei, I'm bringing the team in——'

"No need."

Qin Zhixia turned off the comm.

Not just muting it, she directly pulled out the bone conduction patch, pinched it between her fingertips to glance at it, then slipped it into her pocket.

Zhao Kun watched her back from behind cover, his mouth opened slightly, then he said nothing more.

Qin Zhixia went in alone.

Her military boots stepped on broken concrete debris, the sound largely swallowed by the hollow building. The first-floor lobby had no walls, wind blew through from all sides, and a few load-bearing columns were wrapped with safety nets left from construction, the nets holding fallen leaves and the desiccated corpses of dead birds.

The elevator shaft had no doors, a dark vertical well extending upward with no visible top.

Qin Zhixia took the stairs.

The bayonet wasn't drawn—'Nameless' lay quietly dormant beneath the skin on the inner side of her forearm. Her left hand hung loose, the Tail-Head Snake holstered at her waist, safety off.

She stopped when she reached the corner of the third floor.

It wasn't that she saw something; she smelled it.

Instant coffee.

It was faint, but Qin Zhixia's sense of smell remembered the brand—Vietnamese G7 coffee, three-in-one original flavor. No one in the team drank it except Xiao Zhang, because it was cheap; one box could make twenty cups. When Zhou Weiguo was alive, he'd laugh at him, saying, 'You make decent money, drinking a Starbucks won't kill you.'

Xiao Zhang had shrunk his neck and gave a hehe laugh, saying, 'Brother, that Starbucks is sickly sweet.'

Qin Zhixia suppressed that memory and continued upward.

Seventh floor.

Half of this floor's slabs had been poured before work stopped; the other half was exposed rebar grating that would wobble underfoot. Someone had laid a few discarded site formworks on the poured half, making a barely passable path.

At the end of the path, an I-beam spanning two floor slabs was suspended in midair.

A person sat on the beam.

His legs dangled loosely over the void of the seventh floor, his posture relaxed and casual, like an idle angler fishing on a riverbank.

Buzz cut. Dark circles under the eyes. Beneath his sallow skin, faint dark-red alteration patterns could be seen pulsing.

He wore an old windbreaker, its zipper pulled up to the base of his neck.

Xiao Zhang held a paper cup in his hands.

Steam rose from the cup's rim, drawing a thin white line in the morning light.

The two were about fifteen meters apart.

Qin Zhixia stood, Xiao Zhang sat. Neither spoke first.

Silence lasted seven or eight seconds.

Xiao Zhang lowered his head to blow on the coffee, took a sip, then lifted his head.

"Three-seven, Lei Zi is tricky."

Six words.

It came out of nowhere, but his tone was light, as if commenting that the weather was nice.

Qin Zhixia's step hesitated.

That was a self-made code meaning there was an ambush ahead, advising retreat.

This slang had never been recorded in any file; it was just made up on the fly in the vehicles during field ops, known to no more than four people worldwide, two of whom are already dead.

Qin Zhixia stood still where she was.

Wind poured in through the curtainless building, swaying the ends of her high ponytail a few degrees.

She spoke. Her voice wasn't loud, but it carried clearly in the empty building.

"Sweep it flat."

Xiao Zhang's hand holding the cup paused.

Sweep it flat.

Project Team's code. It means don't withdraw, go in and kill.

These three words were Zhou Weiguo's catchphrase. Whenever they encountered a tough obstacle on a field op, he'd slap the steering wheel and say, 'Don't be timid, sweep it flat.'

Xiao Zhang rose to his feet from the beam.

He didn't use any supernatural means—just stood up normally, walked a few steps on the I-beam, then jumped onto the poured slab.

As he landed, a little coffee spilled from the paper cup.

He used his thumb to wipe the coffee stain off the back of his hand, then lifted his head to look at Qin Zhixia.

His facial expression was very complex.

It was partly a smile, but not entirely.

"Qin Team." he called out.

He used the old title—not 'Mei,' not 'Qin Agent.'

Qin Zhixia.

Qin Team.

"You actually came alone." Xiao Zhang set the paper cup on the rebar tip by his feet, slipped both hands into his windbreaker pockets, and said, "I left that code to tell you where I am, not to invite you to come alone for coffee."

"I know." Qin Zhixia neither stepped forward nor retreated. "You left the code because you wanted to see me. Seeing me means you want to talk. If you want to talk, don't act all mysterious."

Xiao Zhang froze for a moment.

Then he laughed out loud.

That smile was almost identical to the one he used to wear when staying up late in the archive room checking files—somewhat foolish, somewhat helpless, carrying a resigned feeling of "what does it matter if the Qin Team sees through me?".

But it lasted only two seconds.

The smile faded.

"You dismantled three of my nests in three hours," Xiao Zhang's tone changed, becoming flat, without inflection, "Sixty‑seven believers, including twenty‑three who had completed the transformation, were all eliminated. You didn't even wait for dawn."

"They aren't believers," Qin Zhixia said. "They are people you harmed."

"Harm?"

Xiao Zhang rolled the word in his mouth, emitting a short, nasal chuckle.

He snapped his fingers.

The sound echoed several times through the empty building.

From above came the whir of machinery—a pulley system, the kind used on construction sites.

Five people were lowered upside down through a gap in the upper floor slab. Ropes were tied around their ankles, their bodies suspended mid‑air, heads down. Their mouths were sealed with tape, their eyes covered with black cloth.

Five people.

All were dressed decently. One still wore a Crocodile Leather Shoe that hadn't fallen off, its sole gleaming.

Xiao Zhang walked to the leftmost person and tore off his blindfold and tape.

The man's eyes darted wildly; seeing Xiao Zhang first caused a terrified whimper, then spotting Qin Zhixia standing afar, he suddenly seemed to see a lifeline and shrieked, "Please, please—I'm the Lingshui Municipal Committee—"

"Shut up." Xiao Zhang casually slapped him. The force was light, but after the slap the man's half‑face swelled at a visible speed—the disparity of a post‑transformation physique was evident.

Xiao Zhang pointed at the five people, reciting them one by one.

"Cui Yong'an, Vice Chairman of the Lingshui Municipal Committee. He owns seventeen properties, three of which are registered under his mistress's name. In 2018, under the guise of Old City Renovation, he force‑demolished the southern slum, causing the accidental deaths of two 'nail households'; the case has never been filed."

He walked to the second person.

"Zhao Gangming, Vice President of Criminal Tribunal of the Lingshui Intermediate Court Criminal Tribunal. In the six years he handled sentence‑reduction cases, eighty‑three percent of beneficiaries had records of direct or indirect benefit transfers. At least four innocents were wrongfully imprisoned because of his rulings."

Third. Fourth. Fifth.

For each name, the accompanying crimes were memorized by Xiao Zhang flawlessly, with years and figures precise to the unit.

He used no documents, relying solely on memory.

Qin Zhixia recognized this memorization method—Xiao Zhang had the habit from his days as a detective, engraving key information into his mind, because "paper files can be destroyed, but what's etched in the brain can't be burned."

That's also what Zhou Weiguo taught him.

After reciting the last person's crimes, Xiao Zhang turned to look at Qin Zhixia.

"Each of these people has been reported. Real‑name reports, with full evidence. Guess what the result was?"

Qin Zhixia said nothing.

"The result was that the reports vanished like stones sinking in the sea. Investigation teams came and left, left and came, and finally issued a report of 'no disciplinary or illegal conduct found.'" Xiao Zhang's voice finally gained a slight inflection—very subtle, but Qin Zhixia could tell it was empathy.

"The system is dead, Qin Team."

Xiao Zhang pulled his hands out of his pockets. The dark‑red veins on the backs of his hands glowed brighter than before, pulsing with his heartbeat.

"The law can't govern them. Oversight can't govern them. The media can't govern them. The common folk can't govern them either. Zhou Dui tried to govern with his life, governing himself to death."

His voice rose a notch.

"But Weird can."

"Seed gives ordinary people power. No need for connections, no need for background, no need to kneel at the petition office door and queue all night. This is the true—"

"Fairness?"

Qin Zhixia took over his words.

Her voice was soft.

But Xiao Zhang was cut off.

"You think this is fairness," Qin Zhixia finally stepped forward. "Then I ask you, when your Gospel Church scattered Seed in the slums, someone swallowed it and turned into a Bone Spike monster that killed seven innocent people, three of whom were children, the youngest four years old."

"That is—"

"A woman named Liu Fang recorded the believers' atrocities in a ventilation shaft, then was dragged out alive and torn apart. Is she guilty? What law did she break? Should she be judged by your 'absolute fairness'?"

Xiao Zhang pressed his lips together.

Qin Zhixia stepped forward again.

"You feed Seed to the desperate, telling them it's evolution, self‑rescue. Yet you don't care what they become. What you need are soldiers, not compatriots."

"You and them—" Qin Zhixia raised her hand, pointing at the five hanging upside down, "what's the difference? They trample lives because they hold power; you trample lives because you hold Seed. It's just a different tool."

"Essentially, you are the same kind of people."

When that sentence landed, Xiao Zhang's expression changed.

His jaw clenched, the veins at his temples pulsed twice.

Silence.

Wind poured in through the building's holes, making the five hanging people's clothing flutter wildly.

Xiao Zhang lowered his head, looking at his palm.

The dark‑red veins spread to his fingertips, flickering on and off.

He clenched his fist.

When he looked up again, the hesitation in his eyes was gone.

"Qin Team, you're right."

His voice suddenly became very calm. Not a suppressed calm, but a calm after relinquishing a struggle.

"I've wondered for a long time whether I'm the same kind of person as them. Then I realized—the answer doesn't matter. What matters is that I can do what they cannot."

"The law's blade can't strike them; my blade can. As for the cost…"

He smiled briefly.

"I accept the price."

"Human evolution inevitably demands a price."

"Just as every surgery comes with labor pains."

Qin Zhixia looked at that smile and suddenly felt a sourness in her eyes.

She kept that sour feeling from surfacing.

"Then I'll tell you something as well." Qin Zhixia's hand fell on the gun holster at her waist. "The price I accept is to personally bring you back. Or personally send you on your way."

"Choose one."

Xiao Zhang tilted his head and sized her up for a few seconds.

Then he snapped his fingers a second time.

The surroundings darkened.

It's not a change in the sky—darkness surged out from every corner, every crack, and behind every exposed Reinforced Steel Bar of the building.

Compound Eyes.

Hundreds to thousands of dark‑red Compound Eyes opened in the darkness, densely covering the walls, ceiling, Stairwell, and elevator shaft.

Some crawled along the concrete surface, others poked deformed limbs out from the gaps in the Reinforced Steel Bar.

Breathing sounds. Chewing sounds. The crack of dislocated bones.

The entire dilapidated building came alive.

Qin Zhixia was surrounded by countless Mutated Believers in the exact center of the seventh floor.

Xiao Zhang stepped back two paces, retreating to the edge of the darkness. Half his face was swallowed by shadow, leaving only one eye exposed to the morning light—its iris no longer human in color, dark red, matching the hue of the mutated pattern on the back of his hand.

"Then that's a deal that can't be settled, Qin Team."