One of his deputies, “White Shield” Deputy Inspector Lance, had arrived.
Facing the eager Charlemagne, he silently shook his head.
Mr. Charlemagne’s elegant mask cracked slightly. “Not even a single breakthrough?!”
The reply he received was still a shake of the head.
Charlemagne collapsed into a chair, his already strained nerves pulled even tighter, causing his head to throb in pain.
He knew all too well how “White Shield” operated.
If you can’t solve the problem, you solve the person causing the problem.
The damned criminal wasn’t dead and had even appeared on camera, which was absolutely a serious dereliction of duty on “White Shield’s” part.
At the moment, they had only two breakthroughs:
Find a suitable scapegoat, or deal with the mishandling of Charlemagne on camera.
Right now, Charlemagne was still one of them.
But 24 hours had passed.
If no breakthrough was found soon, “White Shield” might just turn their guns on him, their “own man,” as a second-best option to provide the public with an alternative explanation.
The longer this dragged on, the worse it was for him!
Mr. Charlemagne pressed his hands on his knees and said anxiously, “Don’t these lowlifes just want money?! Give them money! Those disfigured girls, give them money. They, and their families, will surely admit they did it—”
Lance’s expression grew more troubled. “We’ve tried…”
Mr. Charlemagne stared at him, feeling his heart sink again. “‘Tried’?”
“We hinted to a couple of the victims, but their reactions weren’t as enthusiastic as we expected… One girl even asked, she asked…”
Lance coughed awkwardly. “…if they admitted it, wouldn’t that mean confessing guilt? Even if they got the money, would the account be managed by the criminal, or by ‘White Shield’?”
Mr. Charlemagne jumped up. “Someone’s been coaching them! Definitely!!”
These lowlifes, barely any of them were properly educated, their horizons were so shallow. Throw some money their way, and they should’ve wagged their tails like dogs and licked our boots. How could they think this far ahead?
Lance, watching Charlemagne’s darkening face, cleared his throat. “Mr. Charlemagne, may I ask—why did you shoot Raskin in the face?”
This question struck Charlemagne like a bomb going off in his ear.
He snapped out of his daze and looked at Lance in disbelief.
Lance, however, met his gaze calmly. “Is it something you can’t disclose? Or are you waiting for your lawyer?”
The trap was revealed.
Since they couldn’t pry anything out of the lowly civilians, it was now his turn, wasn’t it?
Mr. Charlemagne finally understood Lance’s true intentions.
His mind cleared, and that cold, sharp, elite aura returned, armoring him completely.
Charlemagne calmly retorted, “If you were on the scene and saw Raskin’s face turn into Basil’s, wouldn’t you have the right to suspect that besides his face, he might have altered other parts of his body too? For the safety of everyone present, using force was the reasonable course of action.”
Lance smirked. “That’s your reason for shooting?”
Charlemagne: “Yes.”
Lance: “You could’ve shot his chest.”
Charlemagne replied indifferently, “I killed a heinous criminal.”
After saying that, he tiredly made a dismissive gesture. “That’s enough. Apologize to the public at this level; it’ll suffice.”
But Lance made no move to leave.
He stared at Charlemagne’s face. “Shouldn’t it have been confirmed during the initial prison check whether his body had undergone modifications? If I remember correctly, professional machines can detect facial bio-tech in one glance.”
Charlemagne’s face darkened completely.
Lance pressed on relentlessly: “Isn’t that right? Otherwise, wouldn’t it be easy to swap a face and serve someone else’s prison sentence? Is that how ‘White Shield’ operates? What will the public think if they believe that’s the case?”
Verifying whether a prisoner had undergone body modifications fell under Charlemagne’s department.
Whether it was done or not depended entirely on his word.
Charlemagne laughed in rage. “So you’re putting all the blame on me?”
Lance didn’t answer, but his polite, perfect smile was chilling.
Since that was the case, Charlemagne didn’t bother being polite anymore.
“Lance, I remember you’re in charge of the economics department.” He glared coldly at Lance. “When Basil was arrested, did you carefully examine his financial transactions? Was there even a penny of connection between him and me?”
Lance’s face slightly darkened.
Of course, he knew this was a threat. Charlemagne was trying to drag him, the head of the economics department, down with him.
Back then, Basil’s financial transactions had been simple, with nothing suspicious. Naturally, he hadn’t looked into them too closely.
Now, much time had passed, and any traces that needed to be erased would have been erased long ago.
Even if he went back to check now, he probably wouldn’t find anything.
The hardest part of shifting the blame onto Charlemagne was the lack of motive.
A well-regarded “White Shield” inspector and a depraved serial r*pist who tormented lower-class girls for pleasure—on the surface, there was no connection between them, let alone personal favors.
Whether it was Raskin or Basil, why would Charlemagne take such a huge risk to cover for them?
How could they offer a plausible explanation to the public?
The best and easiest solution would be to fabricate evidence that Raskin or Basil had paid a hefty sum to bribe Charlemagne.
Unfortunately, forging evidence like that might work on outsiders, but within their own ranks, if Lance did that, he’d have a hard time staying in “White Shield.”
After all, no one wanted to see the organization backstab one of its own instead of protecting them when trouble struck.
People wouldn’t dare blame their superiors, so they’d have to distance themselves from the middleman who had personally fabricated the evidence.
That’s how complex and delicate human relationships could be.
Sigh, work is tough.
Lance wore a polite smile, but inside he was bitter.
Meanwhile, Charlemagne, facing off with Lance, calmly connected to his brain-machine interface and issued instructions to everyone related to the case: “Clean up the aftermath as soon as possible.”
He wanted to sever all connections to this incident immediately! Right away! Even including the mercenary who had not touched the core of this mission!
…
At the end of the seventh-floor corridor of “Haina” was Ning Zhuo’s room.
It was far from the other dormitories, extraordinarily quiet. Except for an extra bed and a desk compared to a confinement cell, it was cold and stark with no distinguishing features.
Shan Feibai was having his first meal after surgery with Ning Zhuo.
The curry-colored paste was an economical product from Weiwei Company, rich in nutrients but rather rough in appearance.
The sealed box had a dial; turning it would automatically heat the food.
Ning Zhuo wasn’t intentionally making things hard for Shan Feibai.
He was eating the same type of nutritional paste as Shan Feibai.
This was his daily meal.
Shan Feibai was picking at his food.
After ten minutes, Ning Zhuo had finished his portion, while Shan Feibai hadn’t even finished a third of his.
Ning Zhuo glanced at him. “Do you prefer eating with your eyes?”
Shan Feibai: “No appetite.”
Ning Zhuo didn’t even look up. “Are you feeling delicate?”
Shan Feibai smiled, “I just like listening to Ning-ge speak.”
Ning Zhuo showed no mercy: “I’m scolding you, not talking. Eat all of it, or I’ll smear the leftovers on your face.”
Shan Feibai spoke with a bit of young master’s tone: “I don’t like this.”
Ning Zhuo stopped his spoon and said, “What else don’t you like?”
Shan Feibai, with a thick-skinned attitude, elaborated: “I don’t eat carrots or lotus roots, whether raw or cooked; I like tomato scrambled eggs but not raw tomatoes; I like scallion oil but prefer not to see scallions; I don’t eat ginger but like ginger candy; I don’t eat any skins, like pig skin, chicken skin, or bread crust.”
He thought for a moment and added: “And, if it’s not made by me, I don’t like it.”
Ning Zhuo’s forehead twitched slightly. “Hmm, you’re suited to live on photosynthesis.”
Shan Feibai: “Then what does Ning-ge like to eat?”
Ning Zhuo, expressionless: “I like to eat chatty kids.”
Shan Feibai pushed further: “I’d like to have butter.”
Ning Zhuo: “We don’t have any.”
Shan Feibai: “Oranges would be fine too.”
Ning Zhuo slammed his chopsticks on the table.
Shan Feibai looked pitiful: “I’m a patient, you know.”
Ning Zhuo finally gave him a bit of attention.
He looked genuinely pitiful, with messy wolf-tail curls not properly managed, held back with a single hairband.
His face was clean, devoid of any color, but his eyes were bright as if a galaxy had fallen into them, full of vitality and clarity.
Ning Zhuo suddenly found some amusement in teasing him: “Do you think you’re a guest here? Your enemies are still outside. If you annoy me, I might just have you carried out on a litter. If they didn’t kill you, they might even be regretting it.”
“Probably not.” Shan Feibai replied casually, “Given my father’s influence, they won’t deal with me a second time after the first.”
Ning Zhuo stopped scooping the nutritional paste.
He stared at Shan Feibai. “Shan Feibai, do you know who’s trying to get you?”
Shan Feibai countered: “I asked if there’s butter or oranges.”
Ning Zhuo pretended to want to hit him. Shan Feibai laughed and tried to dodge, but probably due to hitting a sore spot, his expression twisted slightly, though he didn’t make a sound.
Ning Zhuo cleaned up the last of the food: “If you don’t want to say, fine. I won’t stop you if you want to leave. Just don’t forget that wherever you go, you owe me a backbone.”
To Ning Zhuo, it was best if Shan Feibai stayed put.
Firstly, even if the people behind him didn’t plan a second attack, from the conversation with Kuang Hexuan, Shan Feibai shouldn’t be completely clear about who was behind it.
According to his personality, he would never rest until he had exposed the hidden figures who harmed him.
Staying at “Haina,” retreating into the shadows, while recovering from injuries and investigating, was better than returning to the infiltrated “Panqiao.”
Secondly, a mercenary leader, saved by a rival, who had his spine fixed, could kneel or be paralyzed at will. Unless Shan Feibai risked death to undergo another surgery to remove the spine, it would be surprising if he could stand tall when facing “Haina” again in the future.
Thirdly, the internal structure of “Haina” had already been seen by him as an outsider.
If Shan Feibai were a bit smarter, he would know what to choose.
But Ning Zhuo would never say outright, “Stay.”
… Quite sinister.
Shan Feibai saw through Ning Zhuo’s implicit message immediately: “Ning-ge, you’re so generous, are you willing to make me your subordinate?”
“Subordinate?” Ning Zhuo laughed lightly, “You had the chance before. Now you only deserve to be a dog.”
Shan Feibai pouted: “But Ning-ge was the one who didn’t want me back then.”
Ning Zhuo didn’t waste time with him: “So, will you take the job?”
“Will.”
Shan Feibai’s smile was bright and unabashed: “… I’ll take it.”
His smile was highly infectious, and as Ning Zhuo unconsciously lifted the corners of his mouth, his communicator rang with an incoming voice call.
Seeing the familiar number on the screen, Ning Zhuo raised an eyebrow and answered: “Mr. ‘Rosen’?”
On the other end, “Rosen” was trying hard to mask his despair: “Ning Zhuo, our mission has been canceled. Please return the key to us as soon as possible.”
After confirming the meeting location, Ning Zhuo hung up and instructed before leaving: “Don’t go anywhere.”
Shan Feibai didn’t say anything but pushed a thin credit ID card over.
After he woke up, Min Min had returned some of the items he carried with him.
Of course, it didn’t include the communicator and weapons.
Ning Zhuo pressed the card with his right index finger, rubbing it a couple of times at the tip.
It was obvious how substantial the amount on the card belonging to the second young master of the Shan family would be.
He asked: “What’s this for? Want me to exchange it for something universally usable?”
“Buy something.” Shan Feibai supported his cheek with one hand, smiling at him, “Buy something you like. Your little dog is quite good at cooking.”
Ning Zhuo paused for two seconds, picked up the card with his left hand, and tapped it twice on Shan Feibai’s face in silence.
He didn’t expect Shan Feibai to be so effortlessly shameless.
With a bit of anger and a laugh, Ning Zhuo left without any lingering attachment.
After the door slammed shut and locked from the outside, Shan Feibai picked up the card that had been casually tossed onto his lap. After waiting for a while, confirming that Ning Zhuo wouldn’t return, he traced the embossed card number on the ID card with his fingertip.
After entering the password, a light screen instantly popped up from the side of the ID card.
Floating in the air was a complete model of Ning Zhuo’s left hand, including clear fingerprints, palm prints, and the bite mark on his ring finger.
Shan Feibai lightly traced the bite mark, as if greeting the old wound.
His smile remained bright: “Bro, I didn’t actually agree to stay put.”
