"Hey—Hoshiguma. Help me check something…"
"Old Chen," Hoshiguma replied, "records show that yesterday a Sarkaz named Chen Xiu did deliver an E-rank fugitive with a thirty-thousand bounty."
"Who handled approval and payout?"
"Han Jin."
"Hoshiguma, I've received a report that Han Jin embezzled the bounty and is colluding with Zhongyi Hall. Can you lock him down and question him ASAP?"
"That serious?" Hoshiguma sounded surprised. "Got it. That's literally the Inspectorate's job."
Ch'en ended the call and stood beside the artificial canal, watching the water flow. The busy tone echoed in her ear.
As her adrenaline cooled, her brain climbed back onto its usual high ground.
Wasn't this… too convenient?
In a critical moment, someone happened to help her—and that someone just happened to be the very person Zhongyi Hall was hunting.
Not only that: he happened to know what she desperately wanted, and she happened to be able to help him—otherwise the "trade" couldn't exist.
Out of habit, Ch'en replayed the sequence over and over, suspicion sharpening each loop.
Then it dulled.
There were too many things that didn't add up for it to be a planned approach.
In the end, she concluded she'd overthought it.
After all, no one knew she was investigating the slums.
Chen Xiu didn't know her, and couldn't possibly know her identity—or what she wanted to look into.
If he'd truly orchestrated an approach, it would border on narcissism to assume it.
More importantly, it was impossible to plan.
Uncertainty was everywhere. Even earlier—when she'd been chased—she'd been running blindly because she didn't know the terrain.
Ch'en erased the last of her suspicion.
"At least I'm not totally unlucky today," she muttered, and headed toward downtown to find an ATM.
Even if Han Jin was caught red-handed, L.G.D. procedure meant it would take time for official reimbursement.
So she'd have to front the money herself.
Thirty thousand wasn't small, but she could barely afford it.
She'd be living off instant noodles for weeks—but if it saved lives and cracked a case, it would be worth it.
Asking her uncle for money never even crossed her mind.
Back in the shack, Chen Xiu sat by the oil lamp, quietly savoring the ease of it.
The plan had gone so smoothly it was almost… boring.
But that was Ch'en Hui-chieh for you.
Swap her out for anyone less headstrong and less righteous, and it wouldn't have worked.
He replayed their first contact, found no obvious holes, and considered his first move set.
Then he sighed, feigning contrition to himself.
"Honestly, I'm awful… That rope was already there. If I hadn't pulled it up beforehand, she could've climbed the wall herself."
After his "self-reflection," he pulled out a terminal with a shattered screen.
A fifty-dollar secondhand special from the slums. It could make calls—barely. Everything else was dead.
Time to greet his dear friend Han Jin before the window closed.
Chen Xiu cleared his throat, adjusted his voice, and dialed the only number he had.
The call connected quickly.
He came out swinging, voice vicious.
"Han Jin, right? You've got some nerve. You think you can swallow Grey Tail Hall's bounty? Apologize? Too late. Enjoy the Inspectorate knocking on your door."
He hung up and checked the time.
9:23 p.m.
Zhongyi Hall should "find" his rental in about an hour.
He likely wouldn't need to rent a new place again.
In Han Jin's room, his legs gave out. He collapsed onto the floor.
Grey Tail Hall?
How could it be Grey Tail Hall?
Wasn't it just that Sarkaz nobody's money?
No—this had to be fake. That Sarkaz trash must be pretending to scare him!
Fear. Rage. Doubt. Denial.
Han Jin stared at the terminal, breathing like a drowning man.
But if it was fake… how did that nobody know it was him? Internal L.G.D. information wasn't something a slum rat could access.
Then sirens wailed outside.
Han Jin crawled to the window and looked down.
Inspectorate vehicles.
He went cold.
It was real.
Grey Tail Hall was killing him.
Why did they use a fake identity to claim a bounty?
He slammed his head into the floor, fists clenched, screaming in helpless fury.
Then he remembered the call from Tiger Boss.
That was what made him notice the thirty thousand in the first place.
So that was it.
That was why Grey Tail Hall used a fake identity—because the money wasn't meant for him at all.
Han Jin crawled back, grabbed the terminal with shaking hands, and dialed Pan Hu.
"If I'm going down, you're not walking away clean either!"
At Zhongyi Hall's third-in-command base, Pan Hu was once again kicking his men around like bowling pins.
"Useless! You can't watch a man, you can't find a man—why do I keep you!"
He'd even grabbed a steel rod, clearly ready to "randomly" beat a few unlucky souls into mush.
"Boss—wait!" A burly Perro thug screamed, survival instinct detonating. "Boss, what if 'Chen Xiu' is fake? A Sarkaz that capable wouldn't have zero traces—like he popped out of thin air. What if we've been played?!"
Pan Hu paused.
It… wasn't completely wrong.
But then how did he explain anything to Huang Boss?
If it came down to it, he'd do what Second Brother said: kill a few scapegoats who "failed to guard the man" that night.
Huang Mingjie didn't even know the details of his father's business with Second Brother. Even if he landed in the L.G.D., it might not matter much.
His terminal rang.
Han Jin.
Pan Hu answered—and a wail like someone's mother had just died poured through.
"Tiger Boss! It was Grey Tail Hall! Grey Tail Hall did it! 'Chen Xiu' is a fake identity!"
After hearing the whole story, Pan Hu's eyes bulged with rage.
"Grey Tail Hall! You've gone too far!"
Now their earlier "symbolic" refusal to help search made sense.
Those rats hadn't even looked—because they knew there was nothing to find.
They were probably laughing at Zhongyi Hall for hunting a man who didn't exist.
"Brothers!" Pan Hu roared, face red, arm raised. "Move! We're smashing Grey Tail Hall! We're killing those filthy rats!"
.....
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