Song Fushan replied in a joking tone.
Ye Huan, however, was not careless in the slightest.
He took a screenshot of the group information for Black Tide Group 5 on his phone and sent it over.
Song Fushan stayed silent for a long while before sending only an emoji: *Take care of yourself.*
On Xia Li's end, she went straight to verify the group info and messaged back:
"Your angle of approach is quite novel. We've never infiltrated a cultists' chat group before."
Then she sent another:
"I've officially registered you on file, undercover agent."
Followed by another:
"You haven't actually started worshiping the Fiend of the Black Tide, have you?"
A woman's intuition was remarkably sharp.
Though she had picked up on something, what was happening to him wasn't that simple.
Ye Huan snapped a photo of the two cartons of eggs and sent it with the caption:
"This was the initiation gift. Do you think I'd actually believe in it?"
Xia Li typed back immediately: "That's quite a gift. You're very suspicious—do you love eggs that much?"
Ye Huan, however, fell into thought.
"A lot of cultists can't afford eggs, is that right?" he asked.
"Just like Luosha," Du Pont said briefly.
"Luosha's burden is mainly too heavy. She did everything she could to help the orphanage, so naturally her own life wasn't great," Ye Huan remarked.
"Everyone could see she was marked for death, but no one dared help her," Du Pont said.
Ye Huan shook his head and pondered for a moment before asking, "Are you safe right now?"
"Right now, everyone is safe. The Great Being handed down a divine oracle forbidding any further slaughter in the near future," Du Pont said with a smile.
Indeed.
No killing.
Yet that didn't mean frame-ups and entrapment were forbidden, did it?
A deity's blazing flames were enough to incinerate a soul, but human rumors and malice could drive a person to their death just as easily.
Praise might be flattery meant to destroy; a meal might be an assassination.
By comparison, Ye Huan felt he would almost rather face the Great Being.
"My lord, what do we do now? Do you have any plans I can carry out?" Du Pont asked in a low, respectful voice.
At this moment, he seemed entirely like a devoted, dutiful servant.
"I do have a plan," Ye Huan murmured.
"Please instruct me, my lord."
"First, what exactly happened outside the city? I heard the cult's martial artists all went out of town," Ye Huan inquired.
Du Pont's expression grew tense. He lowered his voice and said, "Rumor has it they obtained some ritual artifact from the mining area. Not daring to use it inside the city, they took it outside to activate it."
"Have they already used it?" Ye Huan asked.
"I'm not sure. They're returning today—in about an hour—and only then will we know the result," Du Pont said.
*So that's how it is.*
What on earth had happened that night in the mining area?
How had the previous owner of this body truly died?
Ye Huan sank into thought.
"Go back for now. Keep your guard up day to day. If there's real danger, come find me at the Bureau of Investigation."
"Yes, my lord—and your plan?"
"Don't ask," Ye Huan said curtly.
Du Pont's brow twitched.
*That's hardly fair.*
*You claimed you had a plan, asked me all about the city's outskirts, and after I spilled everything, you turn around at the last second and tell me not to ask about your plan.*
"Yes, my lord," Du Pont bowed his head.
Ye Huan waved a dismissive hand.
Du Pont rose to leave, his eyes involuntarily drifting toward the briefcase on the table.
Ye Huan fixed a cold gaze on him.
Du Pont gave up, turned, and swiftly made his way toward the back kitchen, disappearing from sight.
The restaurant's front doors swung open, and the "Closed" sign was taken down.
Everything returned to normal.
Ye Huan sat where he was and continued eating.
...He couldn't shake a faint, lingering unease.
What had they uncovered deep within that mining area?
More than a hundred people had died in that mine.
No.
He needed to hurry back and bring Su Haisheng and Zhao Lingyi away to safety.
His phone vibrated softly.
Ye Huan picked it up and saw a private message just sent by Luosha:
"Why are you with Du Pont?"
"I'm going to take him down," Ye Huan replied.
A smiley face appeared from her end, followed by: "Did you catch him slipping up?"
"No."
"Then—"
"I asked you before," Ye Huan typed.
There was no response from Luosha for a long time.
Sitting on her sofa, Luosha stared blankly at those five words: *I asked you before.*
Indeed.
Before he had set out to kill, he had asked her.
*"Are there any other people like you in the cult?"*
What had she said then?
*"None."*
Even though Du Pont had inducted him into the cult, serving nominally as his "guide," and held formidable strength and standing, he was still prepared to ruin him.
*He only trusts me!*
Staring at her phone screen, Luosha typed rapidly:
"I haven't been in the cult for long, so I'm not entirely clear on many people and matters. But he approached me once, saying he could lend me high-interest money."
Immediately after, a file arrived.
It was a video.
In it was a recorded conversation between Du Pont and Luosha.
He had tried with all his might to persuade Luosha to borrow money, saying it would relieve her financial burden and that she shouldn't worry about repayments, claiming the cult would surely help.
Luosha had refused.
Du Pont had seemed reluctant to let it drop, ultimately saying she could reach out anytime she needed help before disappointedly departing the cult gathering ground.
Pushing predatory loans on a newcomer.
*Tsk.*
Ye Huan couldn't help a silent sigh.
—Luosha was actually exceedingly sharp, and she had always done everything she could to protect herself.
She had fought with all her might.
Until there was simply no way left.
Thinking about it now, her willingness to strike a deal with him back then hadn't been just for the money; it was also because she had cautiously, carefully observed the entire situation.
She had seen an opportunity.
She had gone all-in.
When she had first descended before him, her very first words had been:
*"Tell me about the last time you used the Ritual Fire. Remember, don't lie."*
Looking back now,
that had been more like a prompt.
*Hurry, give the right answer to save yourself.*
And after he gave the correct answer, what had she said?
*"...How did you find this place?... I checked, and no one told you about this stronghold."*
She had been feeding him his lines, not pinning blame on him or trying to frame him.
She had even explicitly added "I checked" to warn him against speaking recklessly.
She had given him a chance to explain himself.
He had played his part in coordination with her.
And she had done her utmost to coordinate with him.
A dance for two.
Dancing along the edge of a blade up to this very moment, until both of them were safe.
Just like right now.
Even without seeing Du Pont's Identity Achievement, a simple question to Luosha was enough to reveal the man's true colors.
Luosha.
Luosha!
Ye Huan's heart stirred, and he seemed to see those emerald-green eyes again, the glimmering warmth in her clear gaze, the gentle memory of her embracing him, taking his hand, and pressing it against her heart.
The restaurant was quiet.
Only the clock on the wall clicked rhythmically along.
Outside, cars occasionally roared past on the street.
Ye Huan opened his half-closed eyes.
He sent all the photos of the title deeds, real estate documents, and business licenses to Song Fushan.
"What is this?" Song Fushan asked.
"I infiltrated the cult, successfully gained a member's trust, and received tribute from him," Ye Huan typed.
"That's completely absurd. You're a newcomer—why would anyone pay tribute to you?"
"I'm a martial artist."
"He wants you to handle something for him, right?"
"Right."
"This is far too much."
"Which is why I'm asking: can these illicit cult funds and assets be lawfully confiscated according to regulations?"
The moment that question went through,
the other end fell silent.
A veteran like Song Fushan would understand instantly, seeing right through what he intended to do.
A few seconds later,
the screen lit up:
"Aren't you worried people will accuse you of entrapment?"
"Entrapment? Respected Section Chief, you only need to answer one question for me—is that fellow a cultist?" Ye Huan typed.
*He is a cultist!*
*So this isn't entrapment!*
The logic was that simple.
"Where are you?" Song Fushan messaged back.
Ye Huan shared his location.
"Wait for me," Song Fushan replied.
Seven or eight minutes later,
Song Fushan arrived, looking worn from his travels.
Accompanying him was a female investigator dressed in a black business suit.
"This is Director Xia's capable assistant, Zhao Na," Song Fushan introduced.
"Hello, Sister Na," Ye Huan greeted with a smile, pushing the briefcase in front of them.
Zhao Na nodded and immediately began examining the various items inside the case.
For those she was uncertain about, she took out her phone, snapped photos, and uploaded them to the Bureau of Investigation's database, quietly watching the stream of incoming feedback.
For items not found in the system, she called someone directly to inquire.
"Explain the situation," Song Fushan said.
Ye Huan gave a concise overview of what had just happened.
"...And just like that, you seized all his assets?" Song Fushan asked.
"He handed them over willingly," Ye Huan said casually. "I might weigh a cultist's words for a second, but when it comes to loan sharks, I wouldn't believe a single syllable."
"Loan shark?" Song Fushan asked.
"He tried to push predatory loans on my informant," Ye Huan said.
Then he added, "I'm just a newcomer without the ability to avenge him, so naturally, I have to report the matter up the chain."
Song Fushan looked toward Zhao Na.
"The bad news is that half of these documents are expired, invalidated, or void. The good news is that the other half are legitimate and in order," Zhao Na said, setting several property deeds on the table.
Real estate was very expensive right now.
Liquidating them would bring in a substantial sum of capital.
Song Fushan contemplated for a moment before speaking: "Ye Huan, once you hand these over, you won't be able to stay undercover."
"I'm on leave today, and securing these assets was just me doing some ad-hoc overtime, Section Chief," Ye Huan said.
"You'd rather give up your undercover identity for this?" Zhao Na asked.
"The Section Chief mentioned the bureau has been under tight financial pressure," Ye Huan replied with an indifferent air. "Going undercover is dangerous anyway; abandoning it when appropriate is the right call."
"Director Xia went out of her way to log your undercover assignment on file. What a pity," Zhao Na sighed, yet a warm smile touched her lips.
Everything else was empty talk.
No matter how many merits you achieved, they were personal honors that had nothing to do with anyone else.
But if you could work conscientiously, bringing in legitimate revenue for the bureau without violating a single regulation so everyone didn't have to tighten their belts—
—then you were worthy of genuine admiration.
A faint smile appeared on Song Fushan's face as well.
He had only mentioned that morning that the bureau was facing budget constraints following their colleagues' sacrifices,
and the kid had taken it to heart.
"I'm only curious about one thing," Ye Huan said.
"What is it?" Song Fushan asked.
"Did the underground gangs in West City really kill his wife and daughter?"
He had to ask this.
It was to salvage his own image.
He had raised the question out of a sense of justice.
Zhao Na glanced at him, her gaze softening even further.
Song Fushan shook his head, picked up his phone, and dialed a number.
Chapter 50