Chapter Fourteen: What a Fine House

Heiyu walked back to the police station. The tall man hadn’t left yet; he was sitting at the front desk, chatting with the green-haired man. The two seemed to get along well—when Heiyu entered, they were both doubled over with laughter at something amusing.

Noticing Heiyu’s arrival, the conversation ceased. They wiped away tears of mirth and looked his way.

“Did Chen Yang give you any trouble?” the green-haired man asked, sounding as if he were an old friend of Heiyu’s.

Heiyu didn’t mind. “Nothing much, just watched her tear a rat apart in midair.” After speaking, he glanced incredulously at the green-haired man.

The other looked back at him with a sly smile—the same expression Heiyu had just seen on Kang Tiansheng’s face.

Cunning men, both of them!

Seeing Heiyu’s surprised look, Fang Bei apologized, “Sorry, just a joke.”

“What kind of ability is that?” Heiyu felt a pang of unease. Would mentioning Chen Yang’s powers get him in trouble?

“It’s just an ability that makes people tell the truth. Nothing special,” the green-haired man replied offhandedly, as if he didn’t care Heiyu had brought up Chen Yang.

“You’re just pretending,” the tall man interjected, picking up where the green-haired man left off, as though Heiyu hadn’t mentioned Chen Yang at all. “With a skill like that, you’re content sitting at the front desk?”

How odd. Were all these people Oscar-worthy actors? Or was his system interfering with their perceptions?

“Hey, System, is this your doing?” Heiyu asked silently in his mind.

[No comment.]

Heiyu was speechless.

“Brother Wu, isn’t this job great? Regular hours,” the green-haired man was still bantering with the tall man.

“Yeah, right,” the tall man replied, then turned to Heiyu, handing him a transparent plastic bag. “All your things are in here. Check if anything’s missing.”

Heiyu saw his old-fashioned phone and some documents. The foldable smartphone had stayed in his pocket, even in the holding cell. The system’s presence made him unconcerned.

Inside the evidence bag were two IDs—one was an identity card, the other a driver’s license—and a bunch of keys.

Both IDs belonged to “Xuan Hai.” The photo looked younger and thinner than his current reflection, a clean-shaven, delicate face. Heiyu glanced at the back of the ID.

Issued in 2011—almost ten years ago. No wonder he looked so different now.

The system even accounted for how an ID’s photo would look less like him after years of use. How terrifying. Had it really stolen someone’s identity?

Heiyu grew uneasy. This system of his wasn’t benign—a Doomsday System, bent on destroying the world. It cared nothing for the fates of others. If Xuan Hai was a real person, he was probably long dead.

Poor soul. Rest in peace.

Heiyu lifted his head and saw Fang Bei and Zhang Wu staring at him. The thought of Fang Bei’s truth-telling ability sent a chill down his spine. Whether it was the system’s work or their deliberate ignorance, he couldn’t tell, but being around the green-haired man now made him uneasy.

This was no place to linger.

Heiyu smiled, then yawned as if by accident, stretching languidly. “I’m tired. I should head home.”

Zhang Wu stood up. “I’ll go too. Xuan Hai, let’s go together.”

“Alright.”

“See you tonight,” Fang Bei waved them off.

Once outside, Heiyu felt a little relieved. This place was too dangerous. Maybe he shouldn’t come back again. He’d have the system arrange a new identity—though that probably meant another person would have to disappear.

The thought pricked at his conscience, but with the system’s protection, if anything went wrong and he had to burn bridges, at least he’d survive.

He’d worry about it after finding Uncle Liu’s killer. This job, though acquired by chance, wasn’t all bad—it gave him a legitimate reason to investigate.

These people all had abilities; perhaps they were secretly looking into Uncle Liu’s case as well.

After leaving the station and walking a few dozen meters, Zhang Wu suddenly asked, “Xuan Hai, where do you live? Is it alright if I call you Xuan Hai?”

“No problem, just don’t make up a nickname. I live in Dixian Village.” Heiyu had read the system’s dossier on Xuan Hai, who also lived there.

“You’re ten years older than me. Call me Zhang Wu or Little Wu, whichever you prefer. We’re partners now.” Heiyu just smiled, saying nothing.

“So why did Black Tiger want to fight you?”

“I picked the fight. No particular reason, just didn’t like him.” Heiyu’s words carried a thuggish bravado—fierce and wild. It fit the persona he’d crafted for himself.

“Impressive!” Zhang Wu laughed. “At the time, you didn’t know he was Dixian Village’s local boss, did you?”

“No, but I’d have hit him anyway. He had it coming.”

Zhang Wu smiled and let it drop. In his eyes, Heiyu was just a reckless brute—but was he really? He’d been a cop long enough to know true character would eventually reveal itself. Let him pretend for now; sooner or later, he’d see through him.

He didn’t believe Heiyu was a good person. The station only kept him around for his abilities—who knew what the future would hold?

They parted ways at the entrance to Dixian Village.

But Zhang Wu didn’t go far. Heiyu could sense him doubling back, tailing him.

Heiyu’s senses were sharp—ever since he’d gotten the boost from Yiren Zhishu, he could tell without looking that the aura behind him was Zhang Wu’s.

The system also alerted him to the tail, though there was no danger warning—just a live feed showing Zhang Wu ducking and hiding, as if filming a slapstick comedy.

Heiyu ignored him. Let him follow if he wanted.

He strode openly through the village.

Xuan Hai’s home was also in Dixian Village, but unlike Heiyu’s, it was a standalone house.

Outside was parked a Wuling minivan and an electric scooter.

Heiyu checked the keys, pressed the car remote, and the Wuling flashed its lights.

“So this is Xuan Hai’s car.”

He wasn’t particularly impressed—it was an ordinary vehicle.

He locked it again and walked toward the house.

The house was discreet, its exterior finished with red mosaic tiles—much like other urban village homes, though a step up from Uncle Liu’s bare red brick place.

Heiyu fished out the keys, looking for the right one, but as he approached, the door lock emitted a beam that scanned his eye.

Click.

The iron gate swung open. Heiyu stepped inside, and the door closed softly behind him.

“Pretty smart,” Heiyu remarked, glancing around. The small courtyard, only a dozen square meters, held some potted plants and a round stone table in the center—Xuan Hai seemed to enjoy life.

He passed through the main door, which recognized him and opened automatically.

June in the provincial capital should have been sweltering, and Heiyu’s clothes were soaked with sweat, but the moment he entered, a coolness washed over him.

Something was off—he searched for an air conditioner but found none. Must be a concealed system. Xuan Hai must have some money; the house covered about a hundred square meters, three stories tall. The first floor was a living and dining area, the upper floors each had bedrooms with private bathrooms.

Even as a rental, it wasn’t cheap, and it was only twenty or thirty meters from the village exit, with plenty of space.

Though curious about where the cool air came from, Heiyu stopped searching—this wasn’t really his house, just a temporary shelter.

He settled onto the living room sofa, recalling the day’s events.

It had only been a dozen hours since he acquired the Doomsday System.

So much had happened in one day, opening his eyes to a hidden side of the world.

There truly were masters hidden among the people.

He thought of the assassin Yiren Zhishu, of Zhang Wu who could increase the weight of objects, and that chief who looked like Master Roshi.

But what unnerved him most was Fang Bei, the green-haired man who could force him to speak the truth.

If Fang Bei had directly asked about his abilities, would he have confessed everything?

And their indifference to Chen Yang’s rat-tearing skill—were they just pretending not to notice?

His system was no help, never giving a straight answer.

It was still streaming Zhang Wu’s movements in real time—Heiyu had nearly forgotten. The system was impressive, broadcasting Zhang Wu’s position from this distance.

Zhang Wu was lurking outside, watching the house intently.

Who knew what he was plotting?

Heiyu ignored him. After such a long day, he was exhausted. Lying on the sofa, he soon drifted off to sleep.