The receiver lowered his head to look at the words on the paper: [April 1st, following Zhang Hao's orders, I continue to track the target Feng Mu.....]

There were many marks of erasure and alterations above, clearly indicating that when writing this paper, Agent Number 2's mood was fluctuating greatly, filled with anger and doubt between the lines.

[.....]

[Those crazy people from Destiny are actually living in the same neighborhood as us?]

[My residence is shrouded by the Black Pillar, but I didn't go back. I must obey orders and continue to track the target.]

[...The target discovered me, and I had to reveal myself. I confirmed his phone was... the Lame Monster sent a text to the target.....]

[The Lame Monster discovered me? I haven't found him.]

[I must immediately rush back to my residence to confirm if the Black Core is safe.]

[The Investigation Corps sealed off the neighborhood and streets. I couldn't force my way through. I waited until deep into the night and only entered after the Investigation Corps lifted the blockade... then fell into an ambush.....]

[There was someone dressed like an Upper City delegate, relentlessly pursuing me. I escaped, heavily wounded, with one arm severed.]

[I called them several times but couldn't get through. It was finally connected but then immediately hung up...]

[I don't understand how I was discovered, where the mistake occurred, why the Patrol Office is searching the entire city for me, where Zhang Hao and his companion went, dead or alive...]

The receiver furrowed his brows tightly, reading the words on the paper again and again, and as he did so, his temples throbbed.

Unable to bear it any longer, he clenched the paper, making a creaking sound, as if trying to squeeze some sense into the foolish brain of Agent Number 2.

The receiver gritted his teeth, "Foolish, you were deceived."

Agent Number 2's eyes widened. These days, hiding in the basement, he had written dozens of sheets of paper repeatedly, each time feeling something was not quite right?

But no matter how hard he racked his brain, he couldn't figure out what exactly was wrong.

As if his brain was finally growing, but in the end, it stubbornly refused to form.

At this moment, hearing the receiver's angry scolding, Agent Number 2 suddenly realized: "Oh, the problem is that I was deceived."

A strong murderous intent flashed in Agent Number 2's eyes as he asked, "Who deceived me?"

The receiver suppressed his rising blood pressure with difficulty, having no more hope for Agent Number 2's mind. He no longer intended to explain the reasoning process.

Even if he did explain, the latter wouldn't understand.

He directly provided the conclusion: "That text was a trap for you, the person who deceived you is the Lame Monster, and you led him all the way back to your residence."

Agent Number 2's face darkened. Resentfully, he stuffed a stick into his mouth, chewing it along with the ant corpses, and unclear words came out fiercely: "Despicable, hate him, tear him to pieces."

The receiver ignored Agent Number 2's impotent rage and, with the last glimmer of hope, asked, "Is the Black Core still there?"

Agent Number 2 nodded, then shook his head dejectedly: "Gone, the Patrol Office..."

Before he could finish speaking, the receiver didn't bother listening to a fool's conclusion.

He let out a sneer and firmly concluded: "Both you and the Patrol Office were used as tools by others. The Patrol Office may not be aware of the thing's existence; it's most likely that the Lame Monster took it."

Agent Number 2 listened, appearing to barely understand, his lips pressed tight without speaking.

"Zhang Hao and his partner went missing, either dead or captured, with a higher probability of being dead," the receiver judged internally.

He irritably removed his mask, revealing a disfigured face with burn marks, sinisterly saying, "Tell me every single thing that happened during this period, all the people involved, without leaving anyone out."

Agent Number 2 pulled out a stack of paper from his pocket, each one filled with scribbled writing.

Though not the sharpest tool, during his days hiding in the basement, he hadn't been entirely idle, genuinely working hard, replaying and pondering.

The result was this stack of paper and a thick layer of ant corpses piled up in the corner.

The receiver accepted the stack and started reading each piece carefully.

Two hours passed.

From his bosom, the receiver took out a pen and wrote three names on the paper: Feng Mu, the Lame Monster, Ma Bin.

Then he circled Feng Mu's name heavily.

It's not that he suspected Feng Mu the most, but because there were too few leads on the Lame Monster; to investigate the Lame Monster, one has to start with Feng Mu.

According to the records of Agent Number 2, Feng Mu was, thus far, the only confirmed target to have had direct contact with the Lame Monster.

And Feng Mu is just an incinerator worker with no significant background, making him the easiest to investigate.

Agent Number 2 looked at the circled name on the paper and stuttered slightly: "Still, follow him?"

The receiver shook his head: "The surveillance has already been exposed and discovered. In that case, just go and bring him back for questioning."

The receiver's tone was decisive and cold, not caring in the slightest about a human life as he said: "If he's useful, keep him alive for now. If not, bury him."

Agent Number 2, filled with killing intent, responded, "Alright."

The receiver specifically instructed: "Go out at night, be well-disguised, and don't get caught by the Patrol Office."

Having said that, the receiver re-wore his mask and hat, pushed the door open, walked a distance, and took a bus to the City Fourth Hospital.

The City Fourth Hospital was the closest hospital to the eventful neighborhood. If there were severely injured individuals from the Patrol Office that night, they would surely be sent to this hospital.

The receiver plans to inquire at the Fourth Hospital about how many constables were brought in for treatment that night after Agent Number 2 fell into the ambush.

By comparing the number of ordinary wounded with the records of Agent Number 2, it could deduce whether the Lame Monster also followed into that neighborhood that night and eventually took their Black Core box.

Two hours later.

The receiver emerged from the Fourth Hospital, and as expected, the Fourth Hospital admitted two batches of severely injured personnel that night.

The first batch included both constables and Investigation Corps soldiers, with the soldiers forming the majority. This group arrived slightly earlier;

The second batch included only constables, with over a dozen casualties, noticeably several times more than the number injured by Agent Number 2. This batch arrived nearly an hour after the first.

"The mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind; as snipe and clam grapples, the fisherman profits. Haha—, daring to seize from the Calamity Corpse Sect, Lame Monster, whoever you are, you're dead meat!"

The receiver's eyes revealed a vicious killing intent, he lowered his hat, covered his mask and faked a few coughs, picked up two boxes of medicine from the pharmacy, and quickly left the hospital.

....

The sky darkened.

Time seemed to reverse as Agent Number 2 returned to that old apartment building.

The same room he had visited before.

The bodies of the young couple lay on the floor where they had been, their empty eyes already crawling with maggots, wrapped in special transparent bags to ensure the smell of their corpses wouldn't leak out.

It was Agent Number 2 who handled them, not out of fear of exposing the crime, but simply because he had to stay in this room for a few days to monitor the target.

Yes, right on that bed, lying on that soft little pillow.

The small body that was originally in that spot, might have already been flushed away by the toilet.

Agent Number 2 was unsure, nor was he interested in going back to the bathroom to see if his handiwork still remained.

The door swung open.

The receiver came in, and with a chilling voice asked, "Didn't I tell you to bring the person back? Why call me here then?"

"No one, here." Agent Number 2 stood by the window, pointed outside, eyes glinting with a cold gleam, "No one's here in the building."

Agent Number 2 had his surveillance forced to stop and hadn't updated the information in time; he didn't know Feng Mu had moved.

It should now be called Feng Ju's home.

After discovering the target wasn't in the apartment, Agent Number 2 didn't act rashly, having learned his lesson a little. He directly texted the receiver, letting the latter decide the next move.

The receiver glanced at the time on his phone: 21:37.

He hesitated little, the disfigured face smiling chillingly: "Let's check the room over there; if the target isn't home, we'll wait inside for his return."

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