Chapter Fifteen: The Marvel Reappears

He stood up, pressing both hands against the edge of the desk, his expression anxious. “It’s been two days. We can’t let this drag on any longer. Does the Interrogation Division really have no means left?”

“It’s hard to break through for now. If we apply harsher methods, he won’t hold up; the man will be ruined, and then he’ll be of no value at all.” Wei Liangbi was at a loss as well. The Operations Section had participated in this case, and several team members had lost their lives. If there had been a major breakthrough, the Operations Section could have claimed a share of the credit.

Seeing Ning Zhiheng’s worried face, Wei Liangbi spread his hands to comfort him. “Don’t be anxious. Actually, we’ve already completed our task. Now it’s up to the Intelligence Division and the Interrogation Division. As soon as they make any progress, they’ll inform us. All we can do now is wait.

Zhiheng, there are some things beyond our individual power to change. Frankly, in matters of espionage and intelligence, we started far too late. The Japanese are well ahead of us.

They have long harbored ambitions toward China, and even years ago began systematically placing spies and pawns here.

At that time, we hadn’t even established a formal intelligence department! Now, nearly every government bureau has Japanese agents lurking within.

During the Shanghai Incident in the twenty-first year of the Republic, as soon as our troops were mobilized, the operation plan was already laid out before the Japanese General Staff. We only learned this years later when we happened upon a summary of that meeting.

That’s precisely why the Principal has so vigorously supported the development of our Military Intelligence Bureau these past years. We’ve caught quite a few Japanese spies lately, but they’re all small fry; nothing major.

What’s truly chilling is that among those captured, one was an old member of the Tongmenghui who studied in Japan.

The more we catch, the more disheartened we become. They have independent spy networks within our vital departments, and we are riddled with leaks, like a sieve.

As for us, we can only mount passive defenses now and have no effective sources inside the Japanese military. We’re like blind men, waiting for blows—utterly disgraceful!”

Ning Zhiheng was stunned by Wei Liangbi’s words. He knew Japanese espionage was rampant but hadn’t realized it had reached such a dire level.

Much of the information he’d learned in his previous life did not detail these circumstances, and even what he’d read in the archives was only a small fraction.

One document noted that China’s own military maps during the Republican era were less accurate than the Japanese tourist maps of China.

In fact, during the War of Resistance and the Civil War, many Chinese troops used maps drawn by the Japanese.

This showed how thoroughly the Japanese had studied China, surpassing even the Chinese themselves. These so-called “tourist maps” could be used directly as military maps. Only if thousands had traversed the breadth of China could such detailed, terrifying maps be produced.

This involved city defenses and terrain nationwide, requiring massive manpower and resources for systematic surveying.

That is the terrifying aspect of Japan: to invade a country, they would prepare quietly for ten, twenty, even thirty years. Thinking about it is truly frightening!

Now, only after seeing the grim reality, it’s no wonder the Japanese swept through cities with such ease in the early stages of the war. It wasn’t just about military strength—they had already prepared thoroughly for this war, gaining a huge advantage in intelligence.

As they spoke, the telephone rang. Wei Liangbi picked it up. The urgent voice on the other end made his expression darken further. Finally, he cursed and slammed down the receiver.

He set down the phone, veins bulging on his forehead, and angrily said to Ning Zhiheng, “That useless bunch in the Interrogation Division, desperate now, put Fu Cheng on the electric chair. He’s barely alive—just a breath left. Now they call us, want us and Intelligence to go see him. Damn it, they’re trying to dump this mess on us—how shameless!”

Ning Zhiheng realized things had become complicated; this lead was completely severed. The Intelligence Division had monitored for over a month, the Operations Section had sacrificed so many men, and all their previous efforts were wasted. Clearly, the Interrogation Division, pressed for time by their superiors, had acted out of desperation and bungled the job.

“What should we do now?” Ning Zhiheng asked, hesitantly.

Wei Liangbi, full of indignation and helplessness, replied, “This case passed through our hands; we can’t shake it off. It’s reasonable for them to ask us to handle the final steps. All we can do is go take a look—do our best and leave the rest to fate.”

Ning Zhiheng insisted on going as well. He was unwilling to give up; after so much effort, to end up empty-handed—it was unbearable. He wanted to see Fu Cheng with his own eyes, to see if there was any hope of extracting intelligence from him, perhaps a miracle might happen.

The two hurried out. The Interrogation Division was nearby, housed in an inconspicuous three-story office building.

The upper floors were offices; the lower floors were cells and interrogation rooms for important prisoners. Security was tight, guards were strict. Even Wei Liangbi and Ning Zhiheng had to show credentials and undergo inspection before entering.

Soon, they were led into a basement chamber. The room was cold and gloomy; the walls and workbench were lined with torture instruments. The floor bore dark stains of blood. In the center, slumped in the electric chair, was a prisoner whose flesh was mangled and bloody.

Huang Taoguang of the Intelligence Division was furiously shaking the prisoner by the collar. Seeing Wei Liangbi arrive, he released his grip in frustration and shook his head.

Witnessing this, Wei Liangbi knew there was no hope. He didn’t bother to check, and said feebly, “Let’s just write our reports and be done with it.”

The Interrogation Division staff had already retreated far away. Having botched the job, they were in chaos and too busy to care.

Only Ning Zhiheng refused to give up. He stepped forward to stand before Fu Cheng. The man’s breath was faint, his eyes empty and unfocused; his life was about to end. If one didn’t look closely, he seemed already dead.

Ning Zhiheng sighed inwardly, abandoning all hope, and reached out to gently close Fu Cheng’s eyes.

Yet in that moment, as his hand touched Fu Cheng’s forehead, Ning Zhiheng’s mind was suddenly drawn by an invisible force into the realm of consciousness.

It was like the moment he had crossed over in his previous life, utterly beyond his control.

Ning Zhiheng found himself once again beneath the Bodhi tree, the serene chanting echoing in the misty space.

Before him appeared a faint orb of light. Ning Zhiheng reached to grasp it.

The instant his fingers touched the orb, it burst apart, transforming into countless images that flashed before him like a slideshow. It was the brief memory of a dying man.

In that instant, the flickering lights reviewed the critical moments of that person’s life.

Ning Zhiheng, like an observer, watched the scene unfold.

In the images, young Fu Cheng sat in a classroom, listening intently to the teacher’s lecture.

The youthful Fu Cheng, dressed in a Japanese military uniform, stood on a training ground, loudly declaring his oath.

Later, as a young man in a kimono, he married a formally attired woman.

Then, wearing a Chinese robe, he hurried down a street. His gaze swept quickly over a second-floor window, where a pot of flowers stood on the sill, etched clearly in his memory.

Finally, Ning Zhiheng’s own figure appeared—he was firing a gun at Fu Cheng.

These few scenes flashed by rapidly, then merged into a weak cluster of starlight that flew toward the Bodhi tree and was absorbed.

Ning Zhiheng’s consciousness swiftly retreated to its original state.

He regained his composure, his mind returning to normal.

This unexpected event left Ning Zhiheng dazed. The Bodhi tree had accomplished another incredible feat—it had acquired the dying memories of Fu Cheng, or rather, Yukida Koju.

Though it was mysterious and inexplicable, Ning Zhiheng was already mentally prepared for the Bodhi tree’s wonders. Since obtaining it, he had constantly explored its powers.

So far, he knew the tree’s leaves could improve his physical condition.

It could even warn him of danger in critical moments. Now, he had made a major discovery: through it, he could glimpse another person’s fleeting mental images and access their most hidden, private information. This was an extraordinary, almost supernatural cheat!

He recalled a book he’d read in his previous life, which claimed that when a person is near death, their memories flash before them—a review of their life.

The light and shadows, transmitted through thought, display those shocking moments. The process can only be described as “recollection,” but it differs greatly from ordinary memory. It is extremely fast, scenes passing by in chronological order. All memories surge forth at once, experienced in a glance, ending in the blink of an eye.

It strikes like lightning, recalling the highlights of a life in vivid, believable images. Watching them, Ning Zhiheng could even feel the emotions and sensations attached to each scene.

Slowly, Ning Zhiheng withdrew his hand from Yukida Koju’s forehead. Though he’d experienced many fragments, in reality it had taken only a split second—barely noticeable, a fleeting thought, undetectable to others.

Everyone else proceeded to clean up according to procedure. Wei Liangbi and Ning Zhiheng hurried back to the Operations Section, Wei Liangbi to his office to struggle over the final report.

Ning Zhiheng, however, had a different idea. Among the five fragments glimpsed in Yukida Koju’s mind, the first three were clearly memories of growing up, studying in Japan, and joining the army. The fifth was the scene of his own capture and being shot by Ning Zhiheng.

The only valuable one was the fourth fragment. In it, Yukida Koju hurried down a street, and the most vivid memory was of a pot of flowers on a second-floor windowsill.