Standing at the edge of the ritual pattern, Chen Chuan kept a close watch on the changes within his Second Self. After waiting about two or three minutes, the blurring upon it suddenly vanished. His eyes lit up, and he stepped forward almost immediately, digging away the soil.
At this moment, the mannequin buried inside had completely disappeared, leaving only the upper jawbone resting there.
It had worked!
He bent down, reached out, and picked up the jawbone. The instant he made contact, he saw wave after wave of intense blurring ripple across his Second Self.
Evidently, without physical contact, it could not be felt.
This was precisely what he wanted.
Now the problem here was resolved. As long as he took the jawbone back with him, no one here would be afflicted again.
He placed the bone into his carry bag and walked away.
While he was dealing with the situation here, Center City's "urban cleanup team" had already finished tidying up the scene at the Golden Shrimp Building.
An urban cleanup team did not simply clear corpses and sanitize a scene; they were also responsible for examining traces, gathering data, and reconstructing the events and exact sequence of what had transpired.
These findings would ultimately be uploaded to Posuo for data storage, allowing for comparison whenever similar incidents arose in the future.
However, all field information records at the scene had been wiped clean by Wu Bei, and most of the corpses had subsequently been mangled by the gang members who arrived afterward, making an accurate reconstruction impossible.
As a result, supplementary details could only be logged through written statements taken from personnel who arrived on the scene. Yet because written statements were inherently subjective and based on personal impressions, regulations barred them from serving as primary documentary records. They could only be used for reference, drastically reducing their significance. Once filed away, they would most likely be sealed away in some dusty, forgotten corner.
Yet the ripples of the incident had by no means subsided. The Golden Shrimp team had possessed its own headquarters and an elite roster. Alongside legitimate commissions, they operated grey channels, handling shady, under-the-table jobs for higher-ups while running illicit, contraband business with certain gangs.
For such a team to be wiped out in a single day immediately drew sharp-nosed reporters and news teams eager to uncover the inside scoop.
While the Golden Shrimp team had indeed paid tribute to several big shots over the years, not one of those figures made a statement now. Afterward, even traces linking them to those people were wiped spotless.
Just as Chen Chuan had thought, unless there were deeply entangled interests or outright blood ties, such figures would never stick their necks out for the Golden Shrimp team. Seeing trouble arise, they would only sever ties as quickly as possible. After all, there were plenty of people down below willing to risk their lives for them; once one batch was gone, they could simply replace them with another.
The incident caused quite a stir in commissioner circles as well, yet not a single person cried foul on Golden Shrimp's behalf. The outfit had never played by the rules and dealt with ruthless cruelty, possessing virtually no baseline. Even those who considered themselves merciless often found their methods distasteful.
It was only because Golden Shrimp primarily took on anomaly commissions and covert dirty work—meaning their operations rarely overlapped with ordinary commissioners—that people had stayed quiet before. Precisely because of this, no one felt any sympathy over their destruction; instead, they all gloated over their demise.
After handling Xiaoman's affairs, Old Qi returned home. The first thing he did was find a hiding spot for the money bag, after which he crashed into bed. When he woke, it was already noon the next day.
He first saw a message from his daughter in his boundary credential, and a smile crept across his face.
Knowing he had business to attend to over the past two days, he had entrusted his daughter to his brother-in-law's care. From the looks of it, she was having a great time.
Next, he noticed his communication interface flashing continuously, blinking so intensely it almost made him dizzy. Getting up to wash his face, he opened the channel and feigned ignorance. "A'ji, what's going on so early in the day?"
An eager voice sounded immediately: "Old Qi, have you heard? The Golden Shrimp team is finished!"
Old Qi feigned confusion. "Golden Shrimp? Which Golden Shrimp?"
"Which other Golden Shrimp could it be?" The voice suddenly rose. "The Golden Shrimp Commission Team!"
"What?" Old Qi's tone was thick with shock and disbelief. "It was them?!"
"None other! Man, you have no idea—the scene was brutal. Word is all the implants and gear got stripped clean off the bodies. Tsk, that rough work has Moss Gang written all over it. Only took the top-tier stuff, left the junk and cheap goods behind.
"If it had been those sewer rats, would there even be bodies left? The Moss Gang really made a killing for nothing this time. Why don't good things like that ever happen to yours truly?"
Old Qi played along with feigned astonishment. "Wait, so it wasn't the Moss Gang who hit them? They just scavenged the spoils?"
His tone was slightly exaggerated, unlike his usual style, but fortunately his buddy was riding a wave of excitement and eager to spill everything, so he didn't notice.
"Tell me about it! By the time the Moss Gang showed up, the job was already done. Tsk tsk, back then Jing Li spent a fortune outfitting his crew—probably sank years of profits into them. If yours truly had pulled off a haul like that, I could retire tomorrow."
Hearing this made Old Qi feel a pang of regret as well. It was true—that was an enormous sum of money.
In reality, though, they couldn't have cashed in anyway. Liquidating hot goods required specialized channels and backing; otherwise, the merchandise would rot in your hands without any way to offload it, turning you into nothing more than an unpaid custodian keeping watch over someone else's loot.
With a blend of tension and curiosity, he asked, "Right, you still haven't said—who actually did it?"
The man lowered his voice and said with hushed secrecy, "From what I hear... it was government operatives."
"Government people?" Old Qi looked genuinely taken aback for a second.
"Yeah, has to be. You know what? Word has it that the moment Jing Li's people went down, the security defense team turned right around and pulled back. To back off that cleanly, and since the perpetrators didn't fit corporate style, it could only be the government."
"Makes some sense..." Old Qi thought to himself that if everyone believed that, all the better; it meant suspicion would never fall on Brother Chen or themselves.
He chatted idly for another ten minutes or so before ending the call, then checked the commissioners' communication board, only to find the entire platform abuzz with discussions about the event.
Between the lines, everyone was filled with admiration for whoever pulled it off, speculating on which heavyweight powerhouse was behind it.
Old Qi, having been a part of it, felt a surge of secret satisfaction reading all the praise and amazement. But he couldn't say a word and had to keep it buried inside, which left him feeling both tickled and restless.
In the end, deciding that out of sight was out of mind, he closed the interface and made himself breakfast. Halfway through, he received a message from Chen Chuan telling him to count the cash in the bag when he had a moment and report back.
Old Qi instantly felt the warmth of being trusted. Acknowledging the request, he went back to count the money and found a clean, round sum: exactly one hundred thousand yuan.
This was a substantial amount—truly a small fortune. He had known it was a lot, but he hadn't anticipated quite this much.
He immediately contacted Chen Chuan and Wu Bei to inform them of the figure.
Wu Bei was curious. "Why were they holding so much cash? Were they planning to buy something?"
Old Qi mused, "Could be. But they took plenty of illicit gigs under the table, and that money couldn't go through official platforms, so it might also have been deposits from clients."
Chen Chuan said, "Whatever it was for doesn't matter now. Everyone contributed this time, so both of you should take a share."
Wu Bei thought it over and agreed. He wasn't short on money, but he felt that if he didn't take any, it might make it awkward for others to do so, so he accepted.
Old Qi said earnestly, "Brother Chen, Brother Wu, I won't play bashful—I do need money. But I only put in a little bit of effort this time, so I'll only take what I rightfully deserve." Though he desperately needed funds, he would never reach for what wasn't his; he knew his place and worth.
Chen Chuan considered for a moment, then said, "How about this: Brother Wu and I will each take twenty-five thousand, and Old Qi, you take five thousand. The rest will serve as common team funds. Old Qi, I'll disburse another twenty thousand to you from the common account to replace your implants. You'll need to contribute more to the team moving forward."
Wu Bei chimed in as well. "That's right, Old Qi. Your implants are way too outdated. Getting an upgrade is the right move."
Old Qi knew the two of them were looking out for him, and a wave of gratitude washed over him. This time he didn't refuse, replying solemnly, "All right. I'll go get them replaced soon."
Twenty thousand yuan wasn't even pocket change when it came to high-grade implants, but if it was only to upgrade and expand civilian-grade models, budgeting carefully made it sufficient. The crucial part was finding a dependable implant doctor to make the most of what he had.
After ending the call, Chen Chuan looked at the jawbone resting on his study desk. With this urban legend, he temporarily had no need for medicine.
Yet urban legends did not endure indefinitely. If one failed to affect people in the outside world over an extended period, it was likely to fade away on its own.
That was also why, once everyone in an afflicted location perished, the urban legend vanished along with them.
With his Second Self bearing the brunt of the affliction for him, it was equivalent to creating an environment devoid of human victims. In time, it would fade away, but the process would take quite a while; lasting a few months wouldn't be an issue. At least for the immediate future, his need for medication was no longer so pressing.
Pulling back his gaze, he checked his boundary credential and found the teacher who had previously tried to contact him.
He hadn't had the time before, but now he could reply. After all, the man was an academy instructor, reaching out during the break of his own accord; failing to respond would be impolite.
He replied to the message with a call. He had expected to wait a bit, but to his surprise, the connection went through almost instantly.
"Is this Instructor Wu? This is Student Chen Chuan."
"It is."
Instructor Wu spoke in a deep, gravelly baritone. "Greetings, Student Chen."
Chen Chuan said, "I reviewed the materials you shared with me, Instructor Wu. You mentioned that you could help me improve my combat skills in a short period?"
"Beyond a shadow of a doubt," Instructor Wu replied with absolute conviction. "I have personally coached over three hundred students one-on-one—all fully verifiable records. With my extensive teaching experience, you can place your trust in me."
Chen Chuan pondered this. A high headcount didn't really prove much; truly exceptional instructors took an elite approach, teaching fewer students while prioritizing quality.
He asked politely, "What recommendations do you have, Instructor Wu?"
"Student Chen Chuan, I've reviewed your file. You come from a small city. Of course, I don't mean to look down on you—I'm merely stating a fact. Combat techniques from backwaters still cling to traditional, outdated concepts.
"Here, I have a training course. As long as you study it, it will address your flaws and shortcomings, guaranteeing you'll pass the academy's assessment. Right now, this course material isn't expensive, and I can give you a discount." With that, he sent over a brochure. "You can take a look first..."
Chen Chuan glanced at it and said courteously, "Very well, Instructor Wu. Allow me to review it first."
On the other end of the boundary credential connection, inside a cluttered, gloomy room, a man with deep forehead furrows and an erratic, neurotic air hung up the call. His gaze fixed in an unblinking stare out the window as he muttered incessantly under his breath, "He'll contact me again... He'll contact me again..."
Chapter 247