Chapter Sixty-Two: Aftermath

Lying on the ground, Ning Zhiheng felt sore and weak all over, filled with frustration. This time, he had lost everything—caught nothing, nearly lost his life, and now he wasn’t sure if he had suffered internal injuries. Once again, he had been careless. The target’s sudden attempt to escape left no time to arrange a proper arrest; he had rushed in unprepared, only to encounter a formidable opponent.

In the final moment, Cui Hai showed not the slightest hesitation. He pulled the grenade hidden on his person, intending to die together with Ning Zhiheng. Such ruthless decisiveness was beyond anything Ning Zhiheng had anticipated. Even worse, he failed to extract Cui Hai’s memories in the end. Cui Hai was certainly a high-level spy for the Japanese Tokko, and the secrets he held must have been of immense value. Missing this chance was truly regretful—his luck today could not have been worse.

Sun Jiachang watched Ning Zhiheng for a long while, and only after confirming that the captain seemed all right did he step forward to help him up, asking hesitantly, “Captain, are you all right?”

Ning Zhiheng replied irritably, “I’m not dead yet! Hurry up and call headquarters—tell them to send someone to handle the aftermath!”

Sun Jiachang quickly agreed and went off to find a phone to contact the Military Intelligence Bureau.

Ning Zhiheng wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and felt a dull pain in his chest. However, his physical constitution was far superior to most. He tested his movements; for now, there seemed to be no serious harm.

He found the suitcase Kawakami Kenta had thrown aside earlier. Upon opening and searching it, he found only two changes of clothes and some toiletries—nothing of value. Frustrated, he tossed the suitcase aside.

Just then, Sun Jiachang returned from making the call and reported, “I’ve notified headquarters. Chief Wei heard you were injured and said he would lead the team here personally to handle things.”

Ning Zhiheng nodded. The situation now had to be taken over by the Military Intelligence Bureau. With the failure to capture Cui Hai, their only remaining lead was the contact he was meeting. Likely by tonight, Shao Wenguang would bring them information about this person.

This contact must be important, or else Cui Hai would not have gone to meet him before leaving. He was probably meant to receive instructions, maybe even the new organizer of the Shadow Group.

Now that Cui Hai was dead, their only hope of tracking down the Shadow Group rested on this newly revealed contact. He didn’t know how long Cui Hai’s death could be concealed from the Tokko headquarters, but he was certain that prolonged silence would arouse their suspicion and prompt a swift response.

Cui Hai likely knew the cover identities of all members of the Shadow Group, including its leader. His disappearance would prompt immediate orders from Tokko headquarters for the Shadow Group to go completely underground or even withdraw.

The work of a spy is perilous and meticulous; they never harbor wishful thinking but always prepare for the worst and respond with utmost caution to any unexpected event.

Ning Zhiheng realized there was no time to waste. The contact had to be apprehended before Tokko headquarters could react. This time, however, the arrest must be flawless—he would take every precaution and spare no effort. There could be no repeat of what happened with Cui Hai.

As these thoughts ran through his mind, a distant police whistle sounded, followed by hurried footsteps. Several patrol officers, wielding batons and blowing whistles, came running.

Their response time was laughable—had this been a murder in broad daylight, the perpetrator would have vanished long before they arrived. The patrolmen rushed to the scene, finding the entrance to Yunlai Hotel in ruins, the area a mess, and a blood-soaked corpse on the ground—undeniably dead. The other two men present, their clothes torn and disheveled, were obviously involved.

The lead patrolman advanced, pointing his baton at them with a shout, “Who are you two? Committing violence in public! Is there no law left in the capital? You’ll come to the station with us!”

The other officers joined in, blustering as they surrounded Ning Zhiheng and Sun Jiachang.

Ning Zhiheng, in a foul mood, couldn’t be bothered to respond. Sun Jiachang, incensed as well, cursed, “Are you blind? If we were really murderers, do you fools think you’d survive confronting us?” He drew his pistol from his waist and aimed it at the patrolmen.

The sight of the gun terrified the officers—they nearly wet themselves on the spot. The leader quickly raised his hands, pleading, “Don’t shoot! Please, don’t shoot! We’re just trying to make a living. Pretend we’re nothing—just let us go.”

The others joined in, begging for mercy. If they had known there were armed criminals, they would have stayed far away. Now they had run into a brick wall and broken their own toes.

Ning Zhiheng ignored their pathetic display. These police were all for show anyway; he never expected them to solve a case. He waved for Sun Jiachang to lower his weapon and said coolly, “This is no concern of the police. We’re with the Military Intelligence Bureau. We’ll handle the aftermath—your job is to secure the scene and keep bystanders away.”

With that, he tossed over his credentials. The lead patrolman quickly caught and examined them, feeling greatly relieved. A murder on his beat was serious trouble, but if the Military Intelligence Bureau took over, he and his men were off the hook.

The patrolman nodded eagerly, “Understood, sir. Don’t worry—we’ll maintain order.” He respectfully returned the credentials, then hurriedly directed his colleagues to spread out and keep curious onlookers at bay.

Before long, Wei Liangbi arrived with reinforcements. The moment he stepped out of the car, he saw Ning Zhiheng’s disheveled appearance—his clothes torn, blood at the corner of his mouth.

Wei frowned and asked with concern, “How were you hurt? Where are you injured? I told you before: if you run into trouble, don’t take risks—report to me. Are you really all right?”

Ning Zhiheng managed a strained smile. “Don’t worry, senior brother, it’s nothing serious. We had the suspect subdued, but he was fearless—without hesitation, he pulled a grenade hidden on him. Sun Jiachang and I dodged in time and escaped with our lives. Unfortunately, the suspect died on the spot—no survivors. What a pity!”

Hearing the understated account and seeing Ning Zhiheng alive before him, Wei Liangbi breathed a sigh of relief. “As long as you’re all right! Zhiheng, I understand your eagerness to achieve merit—I was once just as passionate. But we’re both still young; we have our whole lives ahead. It’s not worth risking your life.”

He surveyed the scene and gestured at the lifeless body of Kawakami Kenta. “A Japanese?”

Ning Zhiheng nodded. “Definitely—and a judo expert, too.”

Few would carry a powerful military grenade. In these chaotic times, some bandits might have handguns, but military grenades are much rarer and reserved for special purposes. On the black market, if you have enough money, you might buy a pistol, but a military grenade is several times harder to obtain.

Wei Liangbi said no more. He ordered the body of Kawakami Kenta to be taken away—even a corpse was evidence and counted as an achievement when capturing Japanese spies.

Ning Zhiheng got into Wei Liangbi’s car, and the group hurried back to the Military Intelligence Bureau. After a quick wash, he felt the pressure in his chest ease. With his robust constitution, he was confident he’d be fine.

He went to Wei Liangbi’s office to report on the case. Wei gestured for him to sit and poured him a cup of hot water. “Tell me everything in detail.”

Ning Zhiheng sipped the water, calming himself, then began, “Everything happened so suddenly today. We’ve been tracking Cui Hai for days. Today, we discovered he was secretly meeting someone—a new development that made us all hopeful. We planned to observe for a few more days, but after following Cui Hai back to the hotel, he suddenly checked out and tried to leave.

“The situation was urgent, so I decided to arrest him on the spot. We had him subdued, but then—” he spread his hands and shook his head, clearly dejected by the outcome.

“You mean you’ve found another target?” Wei Liangbi stood up suddenly, excitement on his face.

During the hurried phone call, Sun Jiachang hadn’t mentioned the meeting between Kawakami Kenta and Shimazu Hiroshi. Only now did Wei Liangbi realize another big fish had surfaced.

“Zhiheng, you’re truly a lucky star! Even I must admit, I’m in awe. These Japanese spies are masters of concealment. Our bureau has spent years trying to catch them—at great cost—and only managed a few minor cases. But you, freshly joined, have already captured two, including the major figure Huang Xiansheng. Even the principal was alarmed and the entire Eleventh Division purged.

“And now, quietly, you’ve found another big fish. How do you spot them so easily? It must be our good fortune!” Wei Liangbi paced the office in excitement, growing more delighted the more he spoke. Lately, everything had gone so smoothly; glad tidings seemed endless, and his mood was soaring.