Chapter 446: Actor Arrives

It was 22:17 at night.

The tactical helicopter pressed low against the cloud layer toward Jiang Hai City, and outside the hatch the night wind was wet and cold, rattling the metal cabin walls.

Su Ming sat at the far end of the cabin, three files spread across his knees.

Song Dénian.

Liu Peizhi.

Qian Guangming.

The three photos were sealed in a transparent file bag, each corpse arranged more meticulously than the last, so meticulous it made one's stomach turn sour.

Liang Wen sat opposite, his black windcoat cinched by the harness into wrinkles, the hint of a teenage‑rebellious aura on his face worn down by insomnia and the high‑altitude chill.

But his mouth stayed stubborn.

"I, in the name of the Dark-Blooded King, swear this case has flavor."

Su Ming did not look up.

"Can you switch the human‑talk system on?"

Liang Wen cleared his throat, lowered his voice: "What I mean is, this isn't ordinary revenge. Ordinary revenge seeks satisfaction; this person values ceremony. Every wound is speaking."

Su Ming's finger paused on the third file.

Qian Guangming, former director of the Technical Division, had overseen the forensic review of the Zhang Yuanqing case three years ago.

At the crime scene, the victim's vocal cords had been removed, and live rats were sewn between the ten fingers.

This is not venting anger.

It is a case reversal.

Reversing the case with a corpse.

Su Ming rearranged the three files, and beside them lay a photocopy of an old case stamped with a red seal.

Jiang Hai City Construction Bribery Case.

Three years ago, during the Old City Renovation project, seven whistle‑blowers vanished one after another, two witnesses recanted, the pivotal forensic report was ruled a "procedural flaw," chief forensic doctor Zhang Yuanqing was dismissed from public office, and later was saddled with the black pot of illegally receiving assets.

A name was mentioned in the dossier.

Chang Jianping.

He was a former senior official of the Jiang Hai Political‑Legal Committee back then; every procedure could not bypass him.

But in the end, he walked away unscathed.

The reasoning was written beautifully.

The evidence chain was insufficient.

Su Ming stared at those four characters for half a minute, then suddenly closed the file folder.

"Indeed, this isn't random killing."

Liang Wen looked up: "Chains?"

"Right."

Su Ming pushed the three victim photos forward in order.

"Song Dénian suppressed public opinion, Liu Peizhi altered the verdict, Qian Guangming provided technical endorsement. The three were responsible for turning Zhang Yuanqing from forensic doctor into a mad dog."

Liang Wen stroked his chin: "Then who do you think this mad dog's final bite will land on?"

Su Ming tapped his wristwatch and projected the old case relationship diagram onto the center of the cabin.

The dense web of lines collapsed into a single red dot.

Chang Jianping.

After stepping back to the second line, he lived in a half‑mountain anti‑aircraft villa on the outskirts of Jiang Hai City, with security clearance higher than that of current councilors, three underground floors, independent power, and food stores enough for twenty people to survive six months.

Liang Wen whistled.

"Old Turtle's setup is maxed out."

Su Ming enlarged the projection.

"The Eden Garden Black Spade Group is gathering at Jiang Hai, not for tourism. According to the previously analyzed clues, they are looking for Zhang Yuanqing."

"So we go after them?"

"Can't capture them."

Su Ming answered curtly.

"We can't even locate Zhang Yuanqing's main body right now."

Liang Wen frowned: "Then why are you flying so urgently?"

Su Ming lifted his gaze, the fatigue in his eyes pressed deeper.

"If we can't find the hunter, we guard the prey."

The cabin fell silent for two seconds.

Liang Wen suddenly laughed, raised his hand and patted his knee.

"Fine, it's a bit too yin, but I like it."

Su Ming ignored his petty remark and opened the operation channel.

"All units, attention, target changed."

"All teams, turn toward the half‑mountain anti‑aircraft villa."

A few brief replies came through the channel.

Su Ming pinned Chang Jianping's photo to the center of the tactical board.

In the photo, the elderly man's hair was ash‑gray, he wore a Tang‑style robe, his smile dignified, and the corners of his eyes bore the wrinkles time had carved.

He looked just like those people in the news who donate, cut ribbons, and speak of devotion.

Su Ming stared at that face, his tone showing no inflection.

"Either this old thing lives tonight and becomes a witness."

"Or dies and becomes evidence."

The helicopter lowered its altitude.

In the distance, Jiang Hai City's lights spread under the rain curtain, shining with weariness.

Fifteen minutes later.

Outside the half‑mountain anti‑aircraft villa.

Chang Jianping, wrapped in a nightgown, was being dragged out of his bedroom by Investigation Bureau special forces, still cursing.

"What rank are you? Who gave you authority? I know you, Wei!"

Su Ming walked from the rain into the hall, his pant legs soaked, carrying a silver‑gray Containment Object box.

"I know them too."

Chang Jianping saw Captain Su, his anger suppressed by half, yet the old bureaucrat's posture remained.

"Captain Su, right? I'm in poor health; a midnight fright could kill me. Can you take responsibility?"

Su Ming placed the Containment Object box on the coffee table.

Clack.

The box lock popped open.

Inside were three black wedge nails, a compass covered with fine blood veins, and a yellowed door plaque.

Liang Wen entered from behind, seeing Chang Jianping still putting on a show, couldn't help speaking up.

"Old man, stop the act. Tonight it's not the Discipline Committee coming for you, it's a ghost."

Chang Jianping's lips trembled.

"Nonsense!"

He said that, but Chang Jianping was clearly panicked.

Given his position, he could already access some hidden things.

Moreover, the Weird existence has now been exposed openly.

Su Ming took the first wedge nail and drove it straight into the floor.

No explanation.

The second nail was hammered into the Stairway Entrance.

The third nail was driven into the Underground Parking Garage entrance.

The yellowed plaque was affixed to the master bedroom door, bearing two characters.

Dead body.

Chang Jianping felt his scalp go numb.

"What is this?"

Su Ming crouched to calibrate the compass.

"It's scrap from Special‑grade Containment Object No. 31, borrowed temporarily. Its function is simple: set up a barrier for the Weird."

Liang Wen added, "People walk the human path, ghosts the ghost path. Whoever trespasses tonight will be embarrassed."

Chang Jianping finally panicked completely, "What..."

Su Ming's hand paused for half a beat.

Liang Wen also looked at Chang Jianping.

The old fellow exposed himself.

Su Ming stood up.

"Old Chang, I suggest you start now to organize the words you left unsaid three years ago."

Chang Jianping's face twitched, sweat forming on his forehead.

"I don't understand what you're saying."

Su Ming stepped half a pace closer.

"Whether you understand or not doesn't matter."

"When he arrives, you can review it in person."

Outside the villa, the rain grew denser.

Inside the monitoring room, twenty‑seven screens displayed the villa's surrounding mountain paths, forest, drainage ditch, and Underground Parking Garage.

Every entrance was sealed by special forces and Containment Objects.

Heaven‑Earth Net had already unfolded.

At the same time.

Deep within Jiang Hai City's slums.

Rainwater ran down the iron‑sheet eaves, and the alley smelled of sour rice, damp mildew, and cheap tobacco.

A few stray cats darted out from behind the Trash Can, ran a few steps, then stopped.

They dared not meow.

Seven people stood at the alley entrance.

Spade Group.

No uniform, no extra communication; each kept their aura very low.

The leading boy was barefoot, stepping in the murky standing water.

Xu An.

The rain‑soaked, gray prison uniform clung to his gaunt body, and the black stitching that sealed his mouth stood out even more under the streetlamp.

A Spade Unit member whispered, "Target basement, one heat source, no guards detected."

Xu An gave no response.

He walked forward.

The rusted iron door of the basement blocked his way, and a half‑torn, faded clinic advertisement was pasted on it.

"Specializing in external injuries, suturing is cheap."

Xu An lifted his foot.

The iron door and its frame collapsed into a pile of metal shards on the floor.

There was no alarm.

There was no Weird backlash.

Not even a corpse hidden behind the door.

Spade Unit members slipped in one after another, their tactical lights sweeping the basement.

Then everyone stopped.

The basement was very empty.

Empty to an excessive degree.

There was no operating table against the wall, no specimen jars, no blood‑stained graffiti, and no source of contamination that a Weird lair would normally have.

Only one person sat in the exact center.

Zhang Yuanqing.

His hair was grizzled, his beard ragged, he wore an old shirt washed gray, his legs crossed, hands resting on his knees.

Eyes closed.

As if waiting for a guest.

Spade Unit members raised their guns.

Someone muttered low, "What's going on?"

Xu An entered the basement, and the Red Wood Ruler slipped from his sleeve into his palm.

Zhang Yuanqing opened his eyes.

The whites of his eyes were veined with blood, yet his pupils shone terrifyingly bright.

"Ah, you've come. Those who have been looking for me these past days."

Xu An lifted the ruler; black liquid seeped from its surface.

Zhang Yuanqing looked at him and suddenly smiled.

From the rear of the Spade Unit, someone pressed the Communicator: "Target confirmed, no accompanying Weird detected, no defensive arrangements found."

Zhang Yuanqing slowly rose, patting the dust from his trousers.

"Stop searching."

"There's nothing here."

A Spade Unit member asked coldly, "Where is the Weird assassin you created?"

Zhang Yuanqing spread his hands, palms clean and dry.

"I released it."

"Where did it go?"

Zhang Yuanqing looked up toward the ceiling of the basement.

Through concrete, through the rain curtain, through the city's encompassing night.

"To the place it should go."

The Spade Unit member's complexion changed.

Xu An pressed the ruler down half an inch, and the Rules domain began to unfold.

But Zhang Yuanqing did not retreat.

This former forensic doctor, once crushed by the system, stood in the center of the basement, shoulders hunched, yet exuded an unsettling composure.

"If you intend to stop me, you're too late."

"If you aim to hunt me, you're no match either."

The words landed, and static crackled through the Spade Unit channel.

The surveillance signal from the half‑mountain direction malfunctioned in the same second.

Jiang Hai City First Hospital.

In the Examination Room there was no Patient.

Chu Che sat on the inner‑room sofa, a row of white porcelain tea sets laid out, the water at eighty‑six degrees, perfect for pre‑Qingming Longjing.

He washed the cup.

He poured the tea leaves.

He added water.

Each movement was so clean it left no flaw to pick.

The tea leaves unfurled in the cup, the bluish‑green leaves bobbing up and down.

Two scenes hung before his eyes.

On the left, the hall of the half‑mountain villa.

Su Ming stood before the compass, Liang Wen leaned against the wall, Chang Jianping curled up in the sofa corner.

On the right, a slum basement.

Xu An raised a ruler, Zhang Yuanqing faced the Black Spade formation's muzzle, like a student who has just finished the exam.

Chu Che lifted his teacup, the eyes behind his lenses were overly calm.

He sipped the tea; the brew was faintly bitter.

"The actors are all working hard."

Chu Che set down the teacup and pushed his glasses up with his hand.

"Unfortunately, you narrowed the problem from the start."

He turned his gaze to the left side of the screen.

Outside the Half-Mountain Villa, the rain curtain suddenly turned red.

In the surveillance footage—forest, mountain path, drainage ditch, Underground Parking Garage—all cameras were swallowed by thick Blood Mist.

The screens went black one after another.

Someone shouted from the monitoring room.

Liang Wen drew his sword.

Su Ming looked up, their pupils contracted to the limit.

Chang Jianping trembled on the sofa like a sieve.

"He's here......"

Chu Che lightly tapped the rim of his teacup.

The porcelain clinked, crisp and brief.

"The bait has taken the hook."

"The good show begins."

On the last surveillance screen of the Half-Mountain Villa, Blood Mist churned.

Then countless red eyes lit up within the mist.