Chapter 509: Censorship

8 a. m.

In the staff area of Qiu Ce Yuan, there would normally be the clamor of morning reading at this hour, but today the Corridor was unusually quiet.

A post every three steps.

Every few meters stood a member of the internal task force, in a Black Combat Suit, holding a standard‑issue weapon modified for suppressing Containment Objects, the barrel angled toward the ground, yet anyone could see it was ready to be lifted at any moment.

Su Ming walked at the front.

His left eye was wrapped in a bandage, the outer gauze already stained dark red. He hadn't changed it, nor had time to.

His right eye, however, shone frighteningly bright.

That eye swept over a office, a panicked staff face, as if sifting sand. On Lu Yu's list, the people he had been in close contact with within a month numbered over two hundred.

Dig three feet.

Wei Gong sent only two words in the Communicator last night: Dig three feet.

Su Ming knew exactly what that meant.

Anyone who could embed that Crystal Stone into Lu Yu's heart and move freely on the top floor of Qiu Ce Yuan would never wear the label "Inside Traitor" on their face. Such a person is usually the one you would least expect.

"Captain," a member behind lowered his voice, "next room, medical office. school doctor, Chu Che."

Su Ming's steps paused for half a second.

Chu Che.

He had heard that name. A cardiac surgeon seconded from Jiang Hai No. 1 Hospital, his résumé was spotless, top‑tier tertiary, a cardiac master, and he even volunteered to be a clean school doctor at Qiu Ce Yuan. Students privately called him Dr. Chu the Divine Healer, reputed to have an unbelievably good temper.

The file was too perfect.

It was so perfect that Su Ming, the old wolf, could vaguely smell something amiss.

"Open the door."

A member stepped forward and pushed open the frosted glass door of the medical office.

A warm fragrance drifted out.

It wasn't disinfectant; it was tea.

The medical office was spotless. By the window sat a simple tea set; the blue flame of an alcohol lamp licked a petite glass kettle, its red tea boiling, steam curling.

Chu Che was seated there.

His Doctor's Lab Coat was ironed without a crease, his black short hair perfectly in place, behind gold‑rimmed glasses a pair of gentle eyes lifted and fell upon the fully armed squad that had burst in.

He neither stood nor panicked; he simply raised his wrist and extinguished the alcohol lamp's flame.

"Everyone," his tone steady, "has something happened? If you need my cooperation, just say so."

Su Ming said nothing, walked straight over, and sat in the chair opposite him.

The members spread out, sealing off the entire medical office.

Chu Che's gaze lingered on Su Ming's face, fell on the blood‑stained bandage, and his eyebrows naturally knit.

"Your eye injury is serious," he said, "setting aside everything else, this wound was treated too roughly; continued bleeding will cause infection."

Su Ming stared at him.

The old wolf had always been extremely accurate in reading people. Whether someone harbored a ghost, where their gaze drifted while speaking, how many times their Adam's apple moved, where their hand rested—he could tell at a glance.

But the man before him... was clean.

Clean to an excessive degree.

"Dr. Chu," Su Ming began, his throat a bit hoarse, "I'll ask you a few questions; answer truthfully."

"Fine," Chu Che nodded, casually pushing the freshly brewed red tea aside to clear the table, "Ask away."

"On the 13th of last month, between nine and eleven p. m., where were you?"

"In the dormitory," Chu Che replied quickly, "grading students' physical re‑examination reports. The surveillance should show I entered the building at 9:04 and hadn't left by 11:30."

Su Ming's eyelids didn't flicker: "Alone?"

"Alone," Chu Che smiled, with a doctor's gentle helplessness, "Captain Su, I'm an old bachelor; most nights I'm alone. If that counts as a suspicion, then all the single staff at Qiu Ce Yuan must have been in."

A young member nearby almost tensed up.

Su Ming's expression remained unchanged, his tone suddenly shifting: "You performed a check on Lu Yu."

It wasn't a question.

Chu Che lifted the tea, didn't drink, just held it: "I did. A routine physical, plus his cardiopulmonary re‑examination after that Weird Domain injury. What's the matter?"

"When you examined him, did you notice any abnormality in his heart?"

That question came with a hook.

Su Ming stared into his pupils. Any guilty person, faced with such a direct question, would hesitate for a fraction of a second—the brain, rapidly weaving a lie, cannot conceal the slip.

Chu Che fell silent.

But it wasn't a panicked silence.

It was the silence of a professional seriously recalling a case.

"Yes," he set down the teacup, his voice deepening, "his heart‑rate variability was low, and his myocardium showed slight compensatory hypertrophy. I thought it was a side effect of Weird Domain power, and I even drafted a recommendation for him to reduce high‑intensity training and undergo regular re‑exams."

He looked up at Su Ming, a hint of appropriate physician's concern appearing in his expression.

"Is… his heart in trouble?"

Su Ming felt a sudden thud in his chest.

The explanation was airtight. It not only accounted for the contact, but packaged his "findings" as a diligent medical directive, even turning it into expressed concern for the patient.

The logical chain was seamless.

More deadly was that Su Ming's countless flawless instincts, when applied to Chu Che—

had never once raised an alarm.

No.

Even if it's just once.

This is the place that truly makes Su Ming's spine tingle. An ordinary person under a real‑gun lockdown would inevitably show some abnormality. But Chu Che is different; his displayed nervousness, concern, and cooperation are all precisely confined within the bounds of an "innocent school doctor."

Not a fraction more, not a hair less.

Su Ming tossed out a few more questions, some logical traps, some deliberately reverse‑led prompts.

Chu Che dissected them one by one.

He even, on a certain question, naturally displayed the tension an ordinary person would have when facing armed troops—instinctively placing both hands on the table, fingers interlaced, a non‑threatening posture that subconsciously conveyed "I mean no harm."

That gesture was too genuine.

So genuine that Su Ming couldn't find a single flaw.

Ten minutes.

Su Ming pressed for the full ten minutes, applying maximum pressure.

The air in the infirmary tightened like a fully drawn bowstring, and the palms of several team members broke into sweat.

But the result was—

Nothing at all.

Su Ming leaned back slowly, raised a hand to rub his throbbing temples. The pain made his vision blur.

"... That's enough." He stood up, the chair leg dragging a muffled, creaky sound across the floor, "Thanks for cooperating with the investigation."

Chu Che also rose, nodding politely: "You're welcome. I hope you can get to the bottom of this soon."

Su Ming turned and walked toward the door.

The team members cleared a path.

At the instant the two crossed paths—

Chu Che moved.

He reached out, fished a something from the Doctor's Lab Coat pocket, and handed it over.

It was a bottle of eye drops. Unopened, imported brand, pricey.

"Captain Su." His tone was as gentle as if admonishing his own patient, "Your eyes show signs of high‑pressure congestion. This wound isn't just superficial; if you keep forcing it, it could cause irreversible optic nerve damage."

Su Ming halted his steps.

"Take care." Chu Che slipped the eye drops into his hand, his eyes behind the lenses curving slightly, "But watch your health. Your life is your own."

Su Ming lowered his head, looking at the cold bottle of eye drops in his hand.

He froze for a second.

"... Thanks." He grasped it, turned, pushed the door, and walked out.

The door closed behind him.

In the infirmary, the warm scent of tea spread anew.

Chu Che stood where he was, watching the door shut tightly.

Then—

The gentle smile on his face faded inch by inch.

Like a reef exposed as the tide recedes.

When the veneer peeled away, what remained was a god‑like, ant‑understanding indifference. No hatred, no malice, only a pure, lofty scrutiny. It was as if the ten minutes of flowing dialogue, the perfectly measured nervousness and concern, were merely a scene he plucked at will.

He sat back at the tea table.

He lifted the cup of already‑filtered, perfectly warm black tea and took a gentle sip.

The tea was fragrant.

He raised his eyes, his gaze passing through the half‑open louvered windows on the sill, landing downstairs.

On the playground, the Federation's troops stood in strict formation. Dark, massive silhouettes, armed with real guns, encircled the entire faculty building like a steel barrel. Countless knives were drawn, all to hunt down the Inside Traitor.

Chu Che watched it all.

His long, fair, bone‑defined fingers rested on the table edge, tapping the surface in a particular rhythm.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

As if beating a rhythm only he understood.

They were fishing for a needle in the ocean.

But they didn't know that the needle was sitting right under their very eyes, brewing a pot of tea, smiling as he handed their hounds a bottle of eye drops.

Chu Che took another sip of tea.

The chill in his eyes gradually turned into an amused smile.

Downstairs.

Su Ming had just stepped out of the faculty building when a cold gust hit, and the wound under the bandage throbbed sharply again.

He stopped, pinched the bottle of eye drops, his brows knotting.

Something's off.

Where is it off?

He couldn't say. Every word Chu Che uttered was correct, every reaction spot‑on, but precisely because it was "too correct," it felt like a flawless piece of glass—

Smooth to the point of being ungraspable.

Fine, if we can't pinpoint a suspect there's nothing we can do; we'll just keep a close watch from now on.

Considering his god‑like skill, they couldn't possibly discover him easily.

Just then.

The encrypted Communicator on his chest erupted without warning with a harsh, blaring alarm.

The sound was rapid and chaotic, almost crawling its way into his ears.

It was the Director of the Medical Department.

That person is usually much steadier, but now his throat cracked, sounding almost on the brink of collapse:

"Su Team! Su Team, where are you!"

"Come to Emergency Cabin No. 3! Quickly—"

Su Ming's heart sank sharply.

"Lu Yu—"

On the other end of the Communicator, that person's voice trembled uncontrollably.

"Lu Yu, he… he's awake!!"