This subordinate Wu’s life was ultimately priced at 1.2 million.
If the mastermind wasn’t caught, or if Wu was still alive, Ning Zhuo would have failed the mission.
By then, even if it meant perishing together with Wu, he would still take his life.
After putting down the communicator, Ning Zhuo stood silently for a long time, staring blankly at a certain point in the air with a chilling gaze.
He turned and went to the ninth floor.
The decoration on the ninth floor was very ordinary, mainly used for weapons testing and research. Each room had its own function, with doors spaced evenly and of the same design, appearing rigidly uniform.
Ning Zhuo stopped between two doors, facing a wall. He pulled off his gloves.
As he placed his fingers on the marble wall, he deliberately touched the almost seamless joint between the wall and a hidden door, wondering, How did Surname Shan manage to find this place?
Did he rely on that little wolf pup’s sense of smell?
With that thought, Ning Zhuo pressed his fingers on a hidden scanning pad.
The door opened with a soft sound.
At the same time, in a shadowed corner, a figure that seemed to melt into the darkness slowly stood up.
His face was hidden in the dark and indistinct, but his voice came first, polite and refined:
“Mr. Ning?”
Ning Zhuo said nothing, only stared at him.
The figure seemed to guess why he had come, lowering his head to admit his mistake proactively:
“Apologies. Someone saw me.”
Ning Zhuo asked, “How did he get in?”
The figure’s words were somewhat disjointed, not due to clumsiness but because his thoughts jumped faster than most people’s:
“He was pacing at the door… I thought it was you… The door, I opened it from the inside.”
Ning Zhuo responded, “Understood.”
The figure lowered his head in embarrassment.
Ning Zhuo entered, closing the door behind him. As he walked, he unbuttoned two buttons on his chest and sat on a chair, completing the figure’s train of thought:
“You assumed that once our work was done, I would kill you to silence you. You were afraid I might lock the door from the outside and leave you here to fend for yourself. So you opened the door, seeking a quick death. But instead, you encountered him. Am I correct?”
The figure smiled modestly and apologetically, silently agreeing with Ning Zhuo’s words.
Ning Zhuo continued, “When you realized it wasn’t me, how did you feel?”
The figure replied in a cultured, composed tone:
“Well, I was startled.”
Ning Zhuo asked, “The past few hours have been hard to endure, haven’t they?”
The figure candidly admitted his fear:
“Yes, very uneasy. I kept wondering who the visitor was, whether our plans had been exposed, and whether you, Mr. Ning, were safe or had been compromised…”
Ning Zhuo used his foot to drag a chair closer, positioning it squarely in front of him with a casual kick:
“Associate Professor Xue, have a seat.”
The shadowy figure addressed as “Associate Professor Xue” walked over slowly and obediently sat down.
…As Shan Feibai had said, this face was identical to that of Jin Charlemagne. A straight nose, large eyes, and every inch of visible skin exuded youthfulness.
But the light in his eyes was calm and gentle, adding a touch of seasoned melancholy to his youthful appearance.
Ning Zhuo spoke:
“Associate Professor Xue, if the person earlier had truly infiltrated our base, your rash action of opening the door would spell disaster for you, me, and the entire ‘Haina’ organization. Do you understand my meaning?”
Associate Professor Xue nodded with genuine self-reflection:
“Yes. I was careless.”
“So, whether it was tension or panic, make sure you remember these hours clearly. When you’re out of here, someone will interrogate you. By then, don’t let this ‘carelessness’ repeat itself.”
“Someone will interrogate me? …You’re letting me leave?”
Associate Professor Xue seemed hesitant:
“…Wouldn’t staying here be better?”
Ning Zhuo asked in return:
“Do you plan to stay here forever?”
Professor Xue pursed his lips, thought deeply for a moment, and eventually agreed with Ning Zhuo’s decision:
“You’re right. I can’t stay here. There aren’t many people in Silver Hammer City capable of manufacturing poison—I’m one of them. ‘White Shield’ will inevitably trace it back to me…”
Ning Zhuo finished what he left unsaid:
“If ‘White Shield’ discovers you’ve disappeared without reason and they can’t find a more suspicious person, you’ll be their definitive murderer. Your daughter will be the child of a murderer.”
The words “your daughter” seemed to deeply wound Associate Professor Xue.
His body trembled as if shocked, bowing his head under the weight of anguished longing.
In Xue’s memory, his daughter was lively, passionate, and straightforward, much like her mother, who had passed away young.
Her love for chemistry mirrored his own.
As both father and mother, he had raised her from a swaddled infant to a graceful young woman.
He loved her as much as his own life but, being naturally quiet and shy, could only feel pride in secret.
She grew up, got accepted into the university where he worked, and was about to become his student.
A bright future awaited her.
Before heading to her high school graduation party, she brought out a white dress and a red dress, jumping in front of him playfully:
“Professor Xue, quick, give me an opinion. Which one looks better?”
Associate Professor Xue honestly replied:
“Both look great.”
Naturally, his daughter wasn’t satisfied with such a generic answer.
She urged:
“Come on, pick one! I like a boy, but I was too busy with school to focus on it before. Today, I want to talk to him!”
Professor 2blinked:
“So, are you planning to date him?”
His daughter’s smile was sweet, made even brighter by the fiery red dress she wore:
“It depends on him. I don’t mind—I just want to thank him. After all, his face was my motivation to study!”
That day, she wore the red dress Associate Professor Xue chose and never returned home.
Her best friends attended the party, but they were all intoxicated.
No one could say where his little girl had gone.
Associate Professor Xue reported her missing, but “White Shield” only ran circles around him:
“Does she drink well? Could she have gotten drunk, wandered off, and had an accident?”
“Could she have eloped with a lover?”
“‘Impossible’? Why are you so certain? Do you know your daughter that well?”
“Surveillance? The party was in the central district. During the incident, surveillance within a 500-meter radius was under maintenance. We’re also troubled by this. You should focus on recalling your daughter’s social connections. It’s your daughter, after all. If you don’t care, there’s nothing we can do.”
“…Apologies. The last officer worked many sleepless nights trying to solve the case, so his attitude was poor. I apologize on his behalf. Please, try to recall her social connections again—it will help the investigation.”
Professor Xue faintly sensed something facing White Shield’s attitude.
He knew that Jin Charlemagne, the governor’s son, had vanished into thin air after the party, reportedly to “pursue a music dream.” He also knew this Jin Charlemagne was famously handsome.
But he was equally aware that he could do nothing.
Beyond Jin Charlemagne’s disappearance, Professor Xue had no evidence to point fingers at anyone. Dwelling on this point would only lead him into White Shield’s trap, branding him as an irrational and delusional father consumed by his daughter’s disappearance.
Over the years, Professor Xue spent half his salary each month placing missing person ads in a corner of the Silver Hammer Daily.
No one replied. No one noticed.
No sign of life. No sign of death.
A sliver of hope hung in his throat, suffocating him day and night, filling him with anticipation and despair.
For four years, he endured.
Until one day, White Shield reached out.
When he answered, he desperately hoped it was a call asking him to identify a body.
Hope had long become his torment.
…Please don’t be so cruel. At least return her body.
Instead, the voice on the other end, calm and formal, asked if he, as the legal representative, wished to file for his daughter’s death certificate, as it had been four years since her disappearance.
He hung up and began searching the underbelly of Silver Hammer City, determined to find Jin Charlemagne.
Only by finding him could he ask what had happened to his daughter.
After much effort, he found Ning Zhuo of the organization “Haina.”
For years, Professor Xue had repeatedly reopened his wounds, showing them to others until he had forgotten what pain felt like.
He numbly and hollowly recounted his request to Ning Zhuo, harboring no extra hope.
Before “Haina,” he had sought out several mercenary groups.
Those seasoned veterans would conduct a superficial investigation, hinting that the task was against an impenetrable force, and then quote a price he couldn’t afford—a veiled refusal.
After hearing him out, Ning Zhuo asked for a few days.
A few days later, Ning Zhuo politely declined, saying the task was too challenging.
Accustomed to such responses, Professor Xue continued his monotonous routine—teaching, researching, and treating life as a stagnant pool.
Half a year later, Ning Zhuo contacted him through a secure channel.
By then, Professor Xue had almost forgotten who he was, responding with a casual “Oh” when reminded.
Though he’d forgotten Ning Zhuo’s voice, he remembered the striking appearance of the mercenary, who looked nothing like one.
Professor Xue politely asked, “Sir, how can I help you?”
Ning Zhuo replied coolly and plainly, as if discussing the weather, “I have found the daughter you’ve been looking for.”
…
She lay entombed in a massive block of cement, strands of her red dress embedded in its texture.
Due to the absence of oxygen, her face was almost as fresh as the day she was lost.
Ning Zhuo briefly explained his investigation.
A living person always leaves traces. No one can disappear without a trace.
Transporting a corpse requires a vehicle.
While the surveillance near the party was completely down, Ning Zhuo expanded his search radius and scrutinized vehicles beyond the blind zone.
Using simple but exhaustive methods, he investigated one vehicle after another—tracking their owners, purposes, and connections to the bar.
He identified a nondescript car that entered the blind zone early that morning and exited shortly after.
Further surveillance revealed the car carried no visible cargo. However, its previous stop was a cement factory.
Months later, the hotel that hosted the party underwent extensive renovations.
Among the debris, a moss-covered cement block was discreetly removed and dumped at the edge of Silver Hammer City, left to decay with time.
Professor Xue stood before his daughter’s body, trembling.
His despair, diluted over the years, left him with no capacity for a strong reaction.
Facing the face he had longed for day and night, Professor Xue pounded his chest and gasped for air.
He could not cry.
No matter how hard he tried, no tears came.
He bent over, staring at her eternally frozen face, and let out a hoarse wail:
“—My daughter…”
“What am I supposed to do for you now?”
Ning Zhuo stood silently, his hands at his sides, watching Professor Xue’s silent agony.
A fleeting thought of his own father crossed Ning Zhuo’s mind—just a little.
He said to Professor Xue, “Professor Xue, did you know? You’re the same height as Jin Charlemagne.”
Associate Professor Xue turned his face, his bloodshot eyes fixed on Ning Zhuo for a moment.
Then, he nodded knowingly.
A few days later, during an experiment, Associate Professor Xue made a critical mistake, resulting in severe burns to his face.
Using this as an excuse, he requested an extended leave from the university.
A month later, he removed the bandages from his face, revealing a completely new appearance—transformed into someone entirely unrecognizable.
Soon, the day arrived to execute Jin Charlemagne and settle the debt.
After Ning Zhuo brought Shan Feibai back, he took advantage of the surgery recovery period to visit the ninth floor, delivering a copy of Jin Charlemagne’s agonized final moments to Associate Professor Xue, allowing him to savor the satisfaction of vengeance alone.
Associate Professor Xue held his knees with both hands, sincerely saying, “Thank you, Mr. Ning.”
Ning Zhuo, unaccustomed to gratitude, turned his head away and replied, “You paid for it.”
Associate Professor Xue understood the kindness beneath his words. “Ten thousand dollars—barely enough for a single ad, let alone a new face.”
Ning Zhuo remained indifferent. “I’m also using you.”
Associate Professor Xue smiled faintly, finding Ning Zhuo endearing. He’d say anything to deflect gratitude.
Changing the subject voluntarily, Xue said, “When I’m out, I’ll deal with White Shield properly. Don’t worry, Mr. Ning.”
Ning Zhuo outlined the next steps of the plan: “You’ll need to stage another chemical explosion in the neighboring area. Before that, I’ll inject you with an anesthetic that keeps you conscious but numb. Once you wake up, I’ll restore your original face.”
Over the years, Ning Zhuo had established deep connections in the black market. Through the “Tuner,” he acquired a relatively complete and precise facial replacement device, bypassing all formalities.
Associate Professor Xue obediently followed the instructions. “Understood. But could I trouble you for a mirror, Mr. Ning?”
“I want to watch this face… melt away.”
Ning Zhuo nodded. “Alright.”
With that, he turned and began leading Associate Professor Xue to the lab he had prepared in advance.
As they walked, Associate Professor Xue confirmed once more, “Can you tell me who that person looking for me is? Will they interfere with our plan?”
“Him?”
Ning Zhuo pondered how to describe Shan Feibai.
An old acquaintance? An adversary? A collaborator?
But he needed to reassure Associate Professor Xue.
So, he gave a definitive answer: “He’s my dog.”
