Chapter Sixty-Nine: Summoned by the Director

Since joining the Military Intelligence Bureau, Ning Zhiheng had never once met its highest-ranking leader. His status was too low to reach the upper echelons; even Director Huang Fu had only interacted with him because of the Huang Xiansheng case and because Ning was He Feng’s disciple. Otherwise, such contact would have been impossible.

In the central agency’s office building, the bureau chief stood at the window in his office, his expression grave. He stared out, holding the telegram in his hands behind his back. Turning, he paced slowly across the room and asked in a deep voice, “Is the Snow Wolf mentioned in the telegram the same high-level Japanese Tokko spy you spoke of?”

“It can’t be mistaken. Snow Wolf holds a high position in the Tokko, and no one would dare impersonate this codename. I’ve dealt with him for half a year—he killed thirteen of my men. If I see his corpse, I’ll know for sure. I could recognize him even if he were reduced to ashes!” a middle-aged man said fiercely.

Deputy Chief of Intelligence Bian Ze was the chief’s trusted lieutenant, shrewd and capable, decisive in his actions—a seasoned intelligence operative. Two years prior, he entered Shanghai to establish the Military Intelligence Bureau’s Shanghai station.

At that time, Shanghai was under joint control by the Japanese and Nationalist armies. Japanese spies wielded enormous power, while the Bureau was at a disadvantage; the two sides tangled repeatedly, clashing multiple times.

During one operation, Bian Ze fell into a Tokko ambush led by his old adversary, the senior Tokko spy known as Snow Wolf. Most of his men were lost—thirteen died on the spot—and Bian Ze barely escaped with a handful.

That failure haunted Bian Ze deeply; it was the most painful memory of his life. To cover his escape, thirteen loyal brothers fought desperately, carving a bloody path, only to fall before his eyes.

After surviving, Bian Ze was consumed by grief. He mobilized his men for retributive assassinations against the Tokko, with Snow Wolf as the most critical target.

Several Japanese spies were eliminated, but Snow Wolf’s movements were elusive and cautious; every attempt failed, and the revenge campaign ended in mutual losses.

Today, Operations Chief Zhao Ziliang and Deputy Chief Xiang Yan came together to report an urgent situation. Bian Ze was beside the bureau chief; upon seeing the translated telegram mention “Snow Wolf,” he instantly linked it to his memories.

The bureau chief asked no further questions. He knew that if this Cui Hai was truly the Snow Wolf Bian Ze spoke of, then the risk of such a high-level operative entering Nanjing must be for something significant—most likely the restart of the Shadow Group, as mentioned in the telegram.

So far, two Shadow Group members had been captured. Among them, Huang Xiansheng—known as Puppet—was a heavy hitter. His arrest led directly to a sweeping change in a core division of the Nationalist Army.

Reliable information indicated that the Eleventh Division would soon be redeployed from Nanjing to the northwest front. Traditionally, the Eleventh Division guarded the eastern line of Nanjing, serving as the primary defense against Japanese forces.

But because the division’s military intelligence had been thoroughly compromised by the Japanese, it was impossible to reorganize quickly; in the end, it had to be pulled from Nanjing’s defense system.

One Puppet’s exposure had affected the entire Ministry of Defense’s strategic deployment. The principal greatly praised the Bureau’s efficiency, and the chief’s reputation rose accordingly.

What benefits could capturing other Shadow Group members bring? Snow Wolf’s level of involvement in restarting the Shadow Group underscored its importance.

The bureau chief silently resolved: the Shadow Group must be rooted out.

A knock sounded. His secretary entered to report, “Chief, Deputy Chief Xiang and the others are here.”

The chief nodded. The secretary turned to Xiang Yan, “Deputy Chief Xiang, please come in.”

Ning Zhiheng followed Wei Liangbi into the office. Inside the spacious room were three middle-aged officers; one was Operations Chief Zhao Ziliang, another a colonel, and at the center sat a major general, exuding a commanding presence. He was unmistakably the Bureau’s supreme leader.

“Reporting! Wei Liangbi and Ning Zhiheng of the First Operations Team are here!”

The two stood at attention and saluted, reporting in unison.

The chief said nothing, only nodded, then spoke: “You are the ones who seized the codebook and know this case best. I’ve called you here to understand the specifics.”

He gestured to Bian Ze, who nodded and asked, “Who first targeted Snow Wolf?”

“Reporting, it was Captain Ning Zhiheng of the Third Operations Team,” Wei Liangbi replied.

He spoke before Ning Zhiheng could, afraid his junior might defer the credit to him. Wei Liangbi was proud and principled; benefitting from his junior’s success was acceptable, but stealing primary credit was something he’d never do.

He didn’t realize that his words made the present officials nod approvingly. All were seasoned leaders, able to read a person at a glance or from a single sentence, and they clearly saw Wei Liangbi’s intent.

This Wei Liangbi, not ingratiating or vying for credit before the leaders, neither servile nor arrogant—a young man with real character.

Bian Ze turned to Ning Zhiheng, “It was you. Explain the situation.”

Ning Zhiheng felt no nervousness; in his previous life, he had seen far larger official scenes.

“Reporting: after joining the Bureau, I organized peripheral operatives as informants. Their job was to report any suspicious persons immediately. They discovered Cui Hai’s unusual activities, so I arranged surveillance,” Ning Zhiheng replied calmly and clearly.

“Peripheral operatives—you keep undercover agents?” Bian Ze, of course, understood what was meant. Their Intelligence Division also used such people for gathering information; it was nothing unusual.

“Was Huang Xiansheng’s whereabouts also discovered by these peripheral operatives?” the chief inquired. He suddenly recalled the previous case report, which stated that the case began when Ning Zhiheng’s agents noticed Huang Xiansheng renting an apartment but not living there, behaving suspiciously, leading to his exposure.

“Reporting, Chief, they discovered it as well. We investigated further and found his rented apartment was very close to the Japanese spy Fu Cheng, codename Windmill, who was arrested two months ago. He never interacted with neighbors and proactively paid rent—these anomalies helped us lock onto the target,” Ning Zhiheng answered promptly.

“What? What’s going on, Chief? Wasn’t the Huang Xiansheng case a lead found by the Intelligence Division, with Operations assisting? How is it now our Operations Division found the target? Then the primary credit for the Huang Xiansheng case belongs to us. You need to keep things fair!” Zhao Ziliang protested.

The two Operations chiefs immediately sensed something amiss. Though both were the chief’s trusted men, they were unaware of any private arrangement between the chief and Deputy Director Huang, which had transferred credit to the Intelligence Division. Hearing their division’s merit being taken, they naturally objected.

The chief regretted his quick question. He’d forgotten these old subordinates knew nothing about the particulars of the Huang Xiansheng case—after all, Kong Liangce’s identity was special, and the fewer who knew, the better.

Hearing their complaints, he didn’t want to explain in front of everyone. He simply pulled a stern face, glared, and snapped, “Enough. We’re here about this case; the Huang Xiansheng matter will be discussed later.”

Seeing the chief’s displeasure, Zhao Ziliang and Xiang Yan dared not press further, grudgingly sitting down, determined to clarify the matter later.

The interruption broke Bian Ze’s train of thought. He decided to go straight to the point: “How long did you track him?”

“Six days. We were losing patience, about to make an arrest, when yesterday at noon we saw him secretly meet Xie Ziming. Our efforts finally paid off,” Ning Zhiheng answered.

“Why did you make an emergency arrest? If you hadn’t acted hastily and planned more thoroughly, you might have captured Snow Wolf alive. Do you know his identity? Do you realize how valuable it would have been to capture him alive?” Bian Ze said bitterly, his tone urgent.

He secretly regretted that he couldn’t have swapped places with Ning Zhiheng—he would have taken Snow Wolf alive or even killed him, avenging his brothers, and his life would be fulfilled.

“Brother Bian, that’s unreasonable. At the time, Snow Wolf was about to leave Nanjing, slipping out of surveillance. There was no time to gather more men. Ning Zhiheng made a quick decision to arrest; it was the right call. Honestly, even with more personnel, if Snow Wolf was resolved to die, nothing could stop him from pulling the grenade’s pin—there might have been even more casualties. Ning Zhiheng risked his life in the arrest; though he didn’t fully succeed, he kept Snow Wolf from fleeing to Shanghai. That’s still a merit!” Xiang Yan, always quick-tempered, protested at seeing his subordinate questioned.

What—risking one’s life to capture a Japanese spy is wrong? The ones who work hardest are criticized, and in the end, Snow Wolf didn’t escape—only a lost opportunity for interrogation!

Bian Ze knew Xiang Yan’s temperament and paid no mind, continuing, “How many participated in the arrest?”

“Two—myself and my subordinate, Sun Jiacheng,” Ning Zhiheng replied.