Chapter Thirty-Seven: Copying Homework, What a Delight

The three of them were no fools; they quickly grasped the implication in Chief Dai’s words.

Now that both the carrot and the stick had been placed before them, there was nothing left for them to contest. Chen Bingfeng noticed that even the greatest contributor to the case had fallen silent, so he too quietly retrieved his briefing sheet.

As for Xu Fan’s report, Chief Dai had already crumpled it up and tossed it into the trash. After all, his submission was a blatant copy of Chen Bingfeng’s, even the presenter’s name had been altered—he’d simply crossed out “Chen.”

Ye Chen sighed inwardly… Now I truly understand the Outer City Patrol Bureau. It’s nothing more than a dog the Inner City keeps on a long leash, and the master’s will is absolute.

But, for now, there was nothing he could do. He had joined the Outer City Patrol Bureau for the promise of a better and more stable income, and it was clear the higher-ups knew exactly how to keep them in line.

At the mention of a bonus, Xu Fan’s eyes lit up. He was well aware of Chief Dai’s temperament; the power to distribute the bonus rested in his hands. Unlike the leader of the neighboring squad, who would either pocket the whole sum or only reward the most sycophantic, Chief Dai doled out rewards strictly according to merit.

So the content of the revised report was crucial—it would determine just how much he would receive.

Behind his glasses, Chief Dai observed the trio’s expressions.

Ye Chen looked calm, tinged with disappointment. Chen Bingfeng wore a resigned, contemplative look. Xu Fan, on the other hand, became instantly alert, his eyes darting about.

Chief Dai rubbed his forehead in exasperation. “The report must be truthful—don’t forget that!” he said, his words aimed especially at Xu Fan.

...

In the office of Squad Two, Ye Chen and Xu Fan squeezed Chen Bingfeng into the middle, three heads huddled together in hushed whispers.

They looked for all the world like two failing students crowding around a straight-A friend, trying to copy his homework.

Chen Bingfeng was busy earnestly revising the briefing, devoting much ink to detailing the entire investigation process. If he couldn’t write about the interrogation, then he would emphasize the grueling inquiry instead, highlighting their hard work.

Meanwhile, Xu Fan, ever the jester, kept interrupting cheerfully, “Hey, Chen-Ma, let me ask you—both sides of my rear hurt. If I put that in the report, think I can wrangle a workplace injury subsidy?”

Chen Bingfeng didn’t even bother to look up. “If you dare write that, I’ll include in my report how you yelled at the top of your lungs instead of using your communicator to call for backup. And you know exactly why.”

Xu Fan froze, his face darkening. He bit his pen, fell silent, and ducked his head.

Moments later, he turned to Ye Chen. “Ye Chen, I feel a little down.”

Ye Chen glanced at him coolly. “Next time, use the communicator when you’re feeling down. I’ll hang up on you and make you feel worse.”

Xu Fan was speechless.

Right now, however, Ye Chen was the most troubled. It was his first time writing such a report—it was nothing like the daily patrol logs, which he’d only ever needed to sign, thanks to Chen-Ma’s diligence in filling them out.

Now, with Chief Dai’s emphasis on authenticity, the investigative and analytical sections were straightforward enough. The tricky part was the combat sequence; too much detail might expose his newly acquired abilities.

How could he spin the story so it came full circle…

Chen Bingfeng glanced at Ye Chen, puzzled as to why he too was now chewing on his pen like Xu Fan. Must be a lack of writing skill—or maybe he’d hit a mental block.

...

Night had fallen.

In the Inner City Lord’s mansion, within the lord’s lavishly decorated bedroom, the lights blazed brightly. The walls were adorned with trophies of mutated beasts—some common, others exceedingly rare. Some were comical, some ferocious, others grotesque and unsettling, yet most were but upper torsos.

The room was warm as spring, despite the snowflakes drifting outside. Thick carpets covered the floor, upon which two pairs of bare, jade-like feet moved softly.

Two women, draped in sheer veils, with alluring figures and charming features that set the blood racing, strolled out. Each carried a tray laden with food and a goblet filled with fine wine. As they walked, the pale blue liquid within the cups rippled gently, shattering the reflected light into fragments.

A whole wall of floor-to-ceiling windows faced a row of plush sofas. On one of these, sunk deep within the cushions, lounged an enormously fat man: the Lord of the City of Energy, Mosa’s father, Mo Shi.

He wore only a shirt and shorts, his round belly straining the fabric to its limits. A couple of buttons wouldn’t even fasten, perfectly illustrating that the greatest distance in the world isn’t the ends of the earth, but the gap between a button and its hole—so close, yet forever out of reach.

The two women circled the sofa, settling gracefully on either side of Lord Mo Shi. One gently brought the wine to his lips; the other tore a piece of meat from the tray and placed it tenderly in his mouth.

Swallowing the food and sipping the wine, Lord Mo Shi sighed in contentment, eyes fixed on the darkness beyond the window as he basked in luxury.

A sudden knock broke the mood. Lord Mo Shi’s face darkened in annoyance. “Who is it?” he snapped, disliking interruptions during his meals.

From outside came the butler’s respectful voice. “My lord, forgive the intrusion. Dr. Gu Yi has come with an important update to report.”

At those words, Lord Mo Shi’s irritation vanished. “Very well, let him in.”

The door opened. Dr. Gu Yi, gaunt and cautious, padded across the carpet toward the sofa. Lord Mo Shi made no move to rise, and Dr. Gu Yi was clearly accustomed to this. He stopped behind the sofa, bowed deeply, and spoke in a humble, sycophantic tone, “My lord, the young master has been injected with the newly formulated Type C Agent No. 1. The results are excellent—all data are here, would you care to see?”

“Hmm? Bring it here,” Lord Mo Shi replied.

Dr. Gu Yi, still bowed, circled the sofa and respectfully handed over the tablet, keeping his gaze fixed on his toes, ignoring the two slender beauties entirely. Once done, he returned to his position behind the sofa, waiting silently for Lord Mo Shi’s assessment—or more likely, his next command.