Target

Although Mr. Zhuan's face remained devoid of expression, both Chen Chuan and Instructor Wen could, almost miraculously, read the unspoken plea written across it: *Don't listen to that nonsense.* A momentary silence settled over the living room. Mr. Wen smiled gently and said, "Mr. Zhuan, please have some tea." Mr. Zhuan immediately picked up the teacup before him, fixing his eyes squarely on the liquid inside, careful not to look anywhere else. Chen Chuan gave it a moment's thought, then folded the bounty notice and put it away. Rising from his seat, he said, "I have a clear understanding of the assessment task now. It's getting late, and I should take my leave. Mr. Zhuan, once I complete this assessment, where should I find you?" Mr. Zhuan raised the teacup as if taking a sip, though he was mostly using it to shield half his face. He hesitated, then offered rather uncertainly, "...An inn?" Instructor Wen smiled faintly and said to Chen Chuan, "Supervisor Chen, Mr. Zhuan traveled a great distance to get here and is unfamiliar with Yangzhi. I'll arrange lodgings for him first. Once you've concluded the matter, you can inform me, and I will pass word along to Mr. Zhuan." Turning back to Mr. Zhuan, he added, "Mr. Zhuan, how does that sound?" Mr. Zhuan nodded repeatedly. Chen Chuan said, "Very well. Gentlemen, I'll take my leave." After saying his goodbyes to the two, he stepped out of Mr. Wen's residence. Outside, he pulled out the wanted poster, glanced over it once more, tucked it back away, and strode forward. He did not head home, but walked straight toward the exit of the constabulary residential compound. Though this was nominally an assessment, in truth it provided him with valuable intelligence. A dangerous element like Kenwa could by no means be left unchecked. However, Jibei Circuit covered too vast an area. Tracking down such an individual would inevitably require the resources of government agencies. The Disposal Bureau was professional when it came to handling violent matters, but it lacked comprehensive intelligence gathering. Locating this person quickly exceeded their current capabilities, which meant he needed to reach out to an external, specialized department. Before long, he walked out of the constabulary residential compound, found a public telephone booth by the curb, and dialed a number. After waiting less than ten minutes, his armed motorcade rounded the corner, bright headlights illuminating the street in a swath of brilliant white. Once the official car came to a steady halt before him, an orderly swiftly stepped out and held the door open for him. Sitting inside, he retrieved his boundary credential from the vehicle's storage compartment, put it on, and began searching through the records stored within the vehicular field organism. Shortly, he located a communication frequency. This had been provided to him by the bureau. Aside from the director and deputy director, only a few investigation supervisors had access to this frequency, and the ciphers were rotated monthly. He called out an instruction, directing the bureau-assigned telegraph operator to transmit along this frequency. The operator promptly slipped on headphones and dispatched the telegram. After a five-minute wait, the operator said, "Supervisor, they've replied." Chen Chuan said, "Tell them I received intelligence that a heavily wanted fugitive has surfaced in Jibei Circuit. He poses an extreme threat to public safety in Center City and surrounding municipalities, and I suspect he has arrived with an important assignment. Therefore, I am invoking emergency provisions and require their intelligence support." "Yes, sir." The operator immediately transmitted the message. Yet this time, quite a while passed without any reply. Just then, however, the public telephone booth not far down the curb began to ring, shrill and persistent. Hearing it, Chen Chuan stepped out of the car at once, walked over to the booth, and lifted the receiver. A familiar voice came through the line: "Supervisor Chen." Chen Chuan recognized the voice immediately. "Commissioner Cao?" Commissioner Cao said, "It is I, Supervisor Chen. I've already confirmed the intelligence. This individual has indeed arrived in Jibei Circuit. My people were keeping eyes on him earlier. Once you confirm his whereabouts, how do you intend to handle him?" Chen Chuan answered without hesitation, "Execute on sight." He heard a brief pause on the other end before a low, sober voice replied, "The target is at Yuanwang Port." Chen Chuan considered this. Yuanwang Port—it truly was an ideal hiding spot. From there, one could board a ship straight to Center City, and if anyone attempted an arrest, escape by sea was always an option. Commissioner Cao continued, "However, I must remind you, Supervisor Chen: prior to entering Great Shun, this man had already applied for a pardon, and confirmation shows the higher-ups have already approved it. It is now one in the morning. The pardon will likely arrive there before noon tomorrow, giving you roughly a day's time." Chen Chuan's mind worked quickly. "Thank you, Commissioner Cao." Commissioner Cao said in a heavy tone, "This is a cunning and arrogant opponent. We detected his presence this time not because our operatives ferreted him out, but because he exposed himself deliberately. Relying on the impending arrival of his pardon, he seems to be chasing thrills, and in all likelihood, he possesses additional leverage." Chen Chuan agreed with this assessment. The wanted poster contained detailed accounts of Kenwa's past crimes; the man was clearly rampant and reckless, often acting with brazen provocation. Such behavior came as no surprise. Furthermore, fighters of the third limit frequently suffered from personality quirks and psychological defects. There were normal ones, of course, but the abnormal ones far outnumbered them. What was more, beneath his arrogance lay a streak of caution. Backed against a port, a veteran third limit fighter could easily slip away if he had made prior arrangements. He said, "Commissioner Cao, I will take care of it." Commissioner Cao said, "I will have my agents keep a close watch on the target and supply you with updates until the pardon arrives. Supervisor Chen, have your telegraph operator maintain continuous contact with my people." Chen Chuan agreed, offered another word of thanks, and hung up the receiver. Looking outside, he calculated the distance: Yuanwang Port was roughly four hundred kilometers from Yangzhi in a straight line. Taking East Line National Boulevard, his official car could cover that distance in about half a day. However, that did not account for the time needed to corner and capture him, nor could he assume the target would linger in one place indefinitely. The actual time consumed could easily be much longer. Furthermore, a port was no desolate wasteland; once fighting broke out, numerous variables had to be factored in. Above all, there was the otherworldly presence lurking behind Kenwa. As for the pardon, he paid it little heed. So what if a pardon had been issued? As long as he hadn't received it, it effectively did not exist. Procedurally speaking, there was not the slightest flaw in that logic. He touched his boundary credential, sending a signal to Chaoming, who was currently asleep back at home. He planned to bring Chaoming along this time. With the vehicular field organism facilitating the connection, he could observe the ground from the sky via the boundary credential fitted to Chaoming's head—an enormous advantage for this operation. Before long, Chaoming flew out from the residential compound and touched down before him with a soft chirp. He stroked Chaoming, stepped back into the car with the bird, and ordered, "To Yuanwang Port." "Yes, sir!" The motorcade started up and drove out of Yangzhi City. Half an hour later, they merged onto East Line National Boulevard and followed it all the way. By the time they drew near Yuanwang Port, it was already noon the next day. Thanks to taking turns resting, Yu Xiao and the other security team members remained in peak condition. Even without rest, these armed personnel—all outfitted with cutting-edge implants—could sustain continuous combat for days and nights on end during an emergency through chemical injections. Chen Chuan pushed open the car door. With a sudden flutter of wings, Chaoming sprang from the vehicle and ascended into the high sky in the blink of an eye, soaring forward toward the port ahead. At the same time, within the container yard of Yuanwang Port, more than twenty armed gunmen held a perimeter around a designated area. Just beyond their perimeter lay the dock loading zone, and through the gaps between shipping containers, the open sea was visible in the distance. Kenwa was currently sitting in a clearing in the middle, gnawing on a half-raw leg of lamb. His muscles were thick and solid, his arms especially brawny. High, prominent cheekbones gave his face a broad appearance, contrasted by full lips and a large, straight nose—quintessential features of the First Clan. His skin was coarse, his stiff black hair tied back behind his head, and war paint smeared across his face, lending him a savage, wild air. He wore an armored combat suit, and along his torso were tendril-like sinews that seemed to writhe at a casual glance. These were external implants, a technology originating from the Linakes Federation. They attached directly to a fighter's body, functioning in place of certain mutated tissues during combat to deliver smoother power generation and amplified strength. With a rip of his hard teeth, he tore away a chunk of flesh still slick with blood, mashed it to pulp with a few quick chews, and swallowed it down. Generally, fighters required only nutrition paste, though they might occasionally indulge in fine food. Kenwa, however, possessed a distinct fondness for bloody fare. He could not say for sure when this habit had begun—perhaps after coming into contact with that entity? Yet he cared nothing for that. So long as it brought him power, such changes did not trouble him in the least. Just then, his movements paused. Shifting his gaze upward, he spotted a black speck against the sky—evidently a bird in flight. As a fighter, he could clearly distinguish its magnificent plumage. He had never seen a bird like this before. Was it some rare breed native to Great Shun? Or... Whatever it was, an instinctive dislike welled up within him. Finishing off the leg of lamb in a few swift bites, he tossed the leftover bone to the ground. He waved to a gunman nearby and mimed raising a rifle. The gunman immediately unslung the long rifle from his back and tossed it over. Catching it in one hand, he inspected the weapon, disengaged the safety, and raised the muzzle toward the sky, his finger slipping inside the trigger guard. After aiming for a brief moment, his finger twitched, and he squeezed the trigger hard.