Anomaly

After walking near his destination, Chen Chuan discovered it was a dense residential quarter. The buildings here were dilapidated, the street railings were peeling paint, the connecting bars were dented from people stepping on them, and the streetlamps had long been broken. There were only scattered pedestrians on the road. Once here, looking through the boundary credential revealed almost no lighting or projection effects. Most of the people living here were likely non-citizens without civic identity. He glanced at his boundary credential. According to the earlier coordinates, the incident had occurred behind a building less than two hundred meters away. Besides the suspicious commission, he had also found related news reports stating that swaths of dead birds were frequently found in this area. That alone would not be unusual. It could be a toxic leak, birds catching a disease, or even crashing into indistinguishable windows. Yet after each of these incidents, many locals claimed to have seen the massive shadow of a bird sweep past overhead. One person who went to inspect the scene claimed that, on occasion, he could see in the window reflection someone standing behind him, grinning at him. But the problem was, that figure had a human head and a bird's body. And when he turned around to look, there was nothing there. News like this was thrilling and very eye-catching. But citizens mostly treated it as a bizarre rumor to listen to, and very few seemed to follow up on it. Although there was a commission requesting an investigation into the matter, judging by its source, it wasn't from a local, but rather looked like a wealthy person indulging their curiosity. It didn't take long for Chen Chuan to find the spot where the birds had fallen—on the rooftop of a crowded tenement. In a corner, he could still see numerous feathers coated in filth and grime. Just then, he noticed patterned graffiti adorning a nearby railing. He walked over, examined it closely, and found it was actually an esoteric cult pattern. So this wasn't an urban legend, but... an esoteric ritual? In his judgment, this esoteric pattern was extremely amateurish, merely a crude imitation of certain designs. Esoteric patterns were not something just anyone could draw. Achieving an intended effect required extreme precision, full emotional investment, and a clear understanding of what one was doing and what one sought to gain. With chaotic emotions, no clear objective, and a messy drawing, the effect produced might at best make someone drowsy. However, many people in Center City seemed to have a habit of abusing drugs; if someone under heavy drug influence came here, the effect might be amplified, making all sorts of hallucinations possible. Regardless of whether that was the case, after walking around the rooftop, no phantom shadow appeared over the Second Self. That meant either no urban legend existed here, or it had already been purged by someone else. Seeing this, he felt no disappointment. He had mentally prepared himself before setting out and never expected to confirm anything on his first try. This was merely the first site he checked today; he still had several other locations to visit. He climbed down from the terrace and walked out of the residential area. Meanwhile, along the outer edge of the residential area, a dozen or so men bearing various tools and weapons had closed in. Following their boss's instructions, they dispersed and concealed themselves around the area. The man gazed inward with a relaxed demeanor. This was far from the first time they had done this; the brothers under him were seasoned and wouldn't make mistakes. With a single glance, he had sized up Chen Chuan's background: his boundary credential was a mid-tier model, indicating he had some money, but not much, and was probably here in Center City to seek out a relative. They had seen too many of this type. They secured a temporary residence permit through a guarantor, then scrambled to find a job before their eligibility ran out. Even if their citizenship expired afterward, most employers wouldn't fire them, preferring instead to hire them for lower wages. Not only could they work such people to the bone, but they bore zero liability if anything went wrong. This target likely practiced fighting techniques, but that didn't matter. It was hardly their first time dealing with martial artists. A young martial artist was actually prime prey. Youth meant his strength wouldn't be overly formidable, while being a martial artist meant his organs and mutated tissues were healthy and robust, fetching a much higher price on the market. When Chen Chuan retraced his steps out onto the street, he noticed that the few scattered pedestrians were gone without a trace. The surroundings had fallen dead silent. His expression remained calm as he continued walking forward. Right at that moment, several canisters were thrown from alleys and corners ahead, behind, to the left, and to the right. They clattered onto the ground, instantly releasing a pungent odor. As thick clouds of smoke billowed out, a faint scent diffused through the air—paralytic gas, specifically used against trained fighters. Hurried footsteps echoed around him. Amid the smoke, several men wielding steel rods coated in black rubber rushed toward him from the front, while on the flanks, two men raised launch guns. With two loud thumps, a pair of electrified nets spread wide and swooped down toward him. The boss watched with certainty from the rear. Once the nets trapped someone, escape was impossible. Follow that with a merciless beating with steel rods, and any fighter would quickly be incapacitated. After that, all they had to worry about was transport and fetching a good price. Yet just as this thought crossed his mind, Chen Chuan strode out of the dense smoke. He appeared completely unharmed, his eyes unnervingly calm. The boss froze, his face changing several times. A moment later, he spat out the cigarette in his mouth and bolted backward. He didn't make it far. A pebble flew from behind, striking the back of his head with a sharp crack. He stumbled forward uncontrollably and sprawled there motionless, fluid mixing blood and implant interstitial liquid leaking from the wound. Behind him, the smoke was slowly dispersing. Scattered all around were a dozen or so contorted bodies. Some hung over the railings; others were plastered against walls with collapsed chests, looking as if they had been embedded straight into the brickwork. Chen Chuan's stride didn't change in the slightest. As he passed the man's corpse, he took a look and ran a search through facial and physical recognition. The man had a criminal record, suspected of trafficking organs and mutated tissues. Judging by the tools they carried, they had intended to capture him alive and dismantle him for parts. Every one of them was fitted with implants, moved nimbly, and possessed full gear. An ordinary martial artist, even wearing a protective suit, could easily be brought down if caught off guard. He left directly, having no intention of notifying the security patrol. Whatever their accomplices might do upon finding the corpses had nothing to do with him. After emerging from the area, he checked several other target locations, but found nothing of note there either. By now, afternoon had arrived. He considered the matter and realized that searching like this was far too inefficient. It would be better to have Old Qi search on his behalf; after all, as a commissioner, querying the network was simpler, costing a modest fee at most. He brought up his communication interface, looked at Old Qi's icon, and tapped it. After a short wait, Old Qi's slightly weary voice came through. "Student Chen, what can I do for you?" Chen Chuan said, "Mr. Qi, I'd like to discuss some commissions with you." Old Qi's spirits lifted. "Sure, sure! Only..." He let out a bitter laugh. "I'm in a bit of trouble right now and might not be able to get out for a while. Could you wait until I get out...?" "Did something happen?" Old Qi sighed. "The patrol detained me. I have to pay a fine, and I'm scrambling to scrape together the money right now, so you might have to wait." Chen Chuan thought it over, asked for the amount of the fine, and said, "I can cover the fine for you upfront, but I need your help with something." Hearing this, Old Qi eagerly agreed and thanked him repeatedly. Chen Chuan said, "Wait for me to get there." An hour later, Chen Chuan led Old Qi out of the city patrol security post. Coming to a bench by a roadside planter, Old Qi grabbed a bottle of water and gulped it down before slumping dejectedly against the backrest. After a while, he said slowly, "All the money I just made from doing private gigs was confiscated. That was the biggest haul I've made in years, and now it's all gone to those bastards. "Those guys showed up right as I finished the job. The more I think about it, the more I suspect that after we slipped past the border patrol that day, they took down my license plate number. They've probably been watching me these past few days, just waiting to give me grief, so this time they nabbed me right on target. Fuck!" Chen Chuan said, "Then you're actually rather fortunate, Mr. Qi. If it had been something else, getting out as easily as you did today might not have been possible." "True enough." Old Qi perked up slightly and looked up at Chen Chuan. "Little Bro Chen, it's thanks to you today. By the way, I haven't asked yet—what did you need me for?" Chen Chuan said, "Right now, I need to take on some special commissions, but I don't want to deal with commission firms." Old Qi understood immediately. "Understood. You handle the commissions, and I'll find ways to deal with the red tape and logistics?" Chen Chuan nodded. "That's the idea." Old Qi said troubledly, "Little Bro Chen, you're flattering this Old Qi too much. You're a formal student of Wuyi Academy, someone living in the Xuan Palace Building. The commissions you take on are bound to be out of the ordinary. As for me..." Chen Chuan said, "These commissions don't involve any personal vendettas or blood feuds, just special assignments. You can name your terms regarding compensation, and I won't force you." Hearing this, Old Qi's eyes flickered with indecision. School was about to start; if his daughter's tuition wasn't paid on time, she would be expelled without the slightest mercy. To survive in Center City, apart from having natural talent to become a fighter, one's only path was education. Yet schooling was exceedingly costly, forcing him to hustle everywhere and try every means to scrape together the funds. At that thought, he gritted his teeth, vigorously rubbed his face, and stood up. "Little Bro Chen, I'm in!" Chen Chuan smiled. "You don't have to look so grim, Mr. Qi. I just arrived in Center City and only want to earn some income. It's just that doing this alone comes with a mountain of hassles to manage, which would keep me from getting anything done." Old Qi nodded in understanding. "What do you need me to do?" Via his boundary credential, Chen Chuan transferred the suspicious commissions to Old Qi. "With things like this, I need you to first help me look into the specific details." "Alright, on it right away." An orange light flickered in one of Old Qi's eyes. After a moment, he said in surprise, "Little Bro Chen, so you're asking about anomalous event commissions! But there's already a group of people handling that sort of thing..."