Chapter Eighty-Nine: The Plan Is Exposed

Seven o’clock in the morning, inside the safe house in the northern part of the city where Zhang Pei was hiding!

A sharp slap rang out.

Shen Le, director of the Nanjing Investigation Office of the Central Party Affairs Investigation Bureau, stood with an iron expression, glaring at the action team leader, Duan Xingzhou, before him.

“Wasn’t Zhang Pei’s safety your responsibility? Give me an explanation!” Shen Le barked in a harsh voice.

He immediately raised his voice, “When did you discover it?”

Duan Xingzhou, whose face bore a clear imprint of the slap, hunched over, holding one side of his face, trembling as he answered, “At six this morning, I called Zhang Pei, but no one answered. That felt wrong, so I rushed over with my men. When we arrived, all three were already dead!”

Meanwhile, several intelligence officers busy nearby finally reached a conclusion. Wen Hao, the leader of Intelligence Group Three, stepped forward to report, “Director, the bodies have been examined. All died from broken necks. The action team member in the living room had his neck broken from front to back, while the action team member and Zhang Pei in the bedroom had theirs broken from left to right.”

“What’s the difference?” Shen Le asked in a low voice.

“Breaking the neck from front to back is a method commonly used by martial artists. Breaking it from the side is a technique favored in military close combat, especially among spies and operatives trained for side attacks.”

“So you mean—?” Shen Le asked, as if grasping something.

“If I’m not mistaken, the killer was once a martial artist and later joined the military, learning close combat techniques,” Wen Hao stated his judgment.

As the intelligence team leader in Nanjing, Wen Hao possessed rich experience in such struggles. He himself was adept at combat, quick and skilled, with a sharp mind—one of Shen Le’s most trusted aides.

His assessment of the cause of death was accurate, although he had mixed up the timeline. Ning Zhiheng had first learned close combat at the military academy, then, over the past two months, had practiced Xingyi boxing with Sun Jiacheng, which included lethal moves like breaking an enemy’s neck.

But Wen Hao’s reasoning was understandable; it was far more common for martial artists to join the military than for soldiers to abandon their posts and turn to the martial world. Thus, his judgment was based on the norm.

“Anything else discovered?” Shen Le pressed.

“The killer is a seasoned professional. He cleaned up the scene, leaving almost no traces—except for marks on the window of a downstairs guest room where a sharp tool scraped the frame.

Based on the bodies, we’ve made a preliminary deduction. Between one and two in the morning, the killer sneaked into the safe house, pried open the guest room window on the first floor, entered the apartment, and first attacked the action team member in the living room. Then he went upstairs, headed straight for the room opposite the stairwell, killed another action team member, and finally entered Zhang Pei’s room, dispatching him with the same method.

All three had their necks broken, with no signs of struggle. It’s clear they were attacked suddenly in their sleep. The killer was efficient and swift—they had no chance to resist.

Afterward, the killer calmly erased all traces. This is someone with exceptional composure—a killer of the highest caliber.”

Wen Hao perfectly reconstructed the scene of Ning Zhiheng’s operation. His depiction matched almost exactly with Ning Zhiheng’s actions, proving his reputation as one of the foremost investigators in the Central Party Affairs Investigation Bureau.

“Can you discern the killer’s motive? Could it have been a hit ordered by the Red Party’s underground network against Zhang Pei?” Duan Xingzhou, who had been silent until now, finally couldn’t restrain himself and spoke up.

“Foolish! Zhang Pei had never shown his face after capture. It was only during the Ma Hong case that he made contact with a Red Party liaison, who died from his injuries as soon as he arrived at the Military Intelligence Investigation Bureau. There’s no way the underground party could have known about Zhang Pei! So where would a hit order come from?” Shen Le shot Duan Xingzhou a displeased glare. This idiot—utterly lacking in brains and utterly useless!

Having been scolded the moment he opened his mouth, Duan Xingzhou dared not speak further, obediently closing his mouth and moving aside.

Shen Le was equally frustrated. He had just been preparing to use Zhang Pei, only for him to be killed. Now they would have to choose a new candidate to infiltrate the underground party.

This was bad. If the killer wasn’t after Zhang Pei, then what was his motive? The documents! Wu Quanjiang’s documents!

A cold shock ran through Shen Le’s heart. He realized something was amiss and quickly asked Wen Hao, “Did the search turn up a briefcase containing important documents?”

Wen Hao, bewildered by Shen Le’s questioning, hastily replied, “No! No briefcase was found!”

“Search again, especially Zhang Pei’s bedroom. Check thoroughly—do not miss any clue!” Shen Le commanded loudly.

All personnel immediately moved to obey. Soon Wen Hao returned to report, “Director, there really is no briefcase!”

The slim hope Shen Le had clung to was finally dashed.

Wu Quanjiang was the highest-ranking underground party member they had discovered in Nanjing so far. Fourteen days earlier, when Shen Le learned they had found a senior leader of the Red Party’s underground Nanjing committee, he was ecstatic.

Originally, he wanted to arrest Wu Quanjiang immediately. If all went well and Wu Quanjiang confessed, it would be a massive breakthrough against the Nanjing underground party—a tremendous achievement.

But at that level, the underground party were die-hard core members. If he refused to confess, or even chose suicide, then such an important pawn would be lost. Wu Quanjiang was too valuable; Shen Le dared not take the risk. So he decided to cast a long line, to use Wu Quanjiang to plant an agent inside the underground party and gather intelligence, sabotaging them from within. If the plan failed, he could still arrest Wu Quanjiang later.

The final candidate chosen was Zhang Pei, naturally because he had once been a veteran member of the Red Party’s underground network. That experience would help him infiltrate the party.

But the underground party’s senses proved sharper than expected! The plan hadn’t even begun when the underground party struck, wiping out everyone and taking the documents.

There was a mole—there must be a mole! Few people knew about this plan and the location of the safe house. Those few intelligence officers must be carefully investigated and the mole found—otherwise, it would be like a ticking bomb by his side, ready to explode at any moment. This danger must be eliminated!

As a longstanding opponent of the Red Party’s underground network, Shen Le had always played the role of hunter, with the underground party as his prey. Now, however, the roles felt reversed—a hidden beast in the dark had fixed its gaze on him, watching and waiting, and had just delivered a savage bite.

Shen Le made a quick decision. “The plan has been exposed. Call Zheng Mingshan immediately and tell him to arrest Wu Quanjiang. If Wu Quanjiang escapes, let him answer for it with his head!

Duan Xingzhou, take your men and support the operation. The underground party will have received the news and will arrange Wu Quanjiang’s escape. Move quickly. Remember: he must be taken alive!”

Twenty minutes earlier, an elderly beggar in ragged clothing, shuffling unsteadily, had appeared at the entrance of Zhongkang Traditional Medicine Shop.

By then, people had begun to move about the street for their livelihoods, and breakfast stalls along the roadside were already lit and open for business. A few customers had gathered—the day had begun.

The old beggar’s gaze swept over the medicine shop’s door, still closed for business, then he ambled past without hurry.

“It’s nothing, just a beggar. You’re too nervous—relax!” At the window of a residential house across the street, a young man yawned and said to his companion, listless.

He continued, “Hey, go buy some breakfast. After staying up all night, I’m starving and exhausted—I can’t take it anymore!”

His companion withdrew his suspicious gaze from the old beggar, turned and grumbled, “Why is it always me? Kettlehead, you’re always sticking me with this stuff. You’re stingier than a miser!”

Kettlehead, the young man nicknamed thus, wasn’t bothered by the scolding. He grinned, “Er Yong, Brother Er Yong! We’re brothers, aren’t we? I don’t have a single coin left. Lost everything to Ma Gan and his crew last night. Not just today—looks like I’ll be relying on you for this whole month!”

Er Yong shook his head helplessly, knowing there was nothing he could do. The fellow was just a layabout. He cautioned, “Keep your eyes open! Our shift’s about to end—don’t let anything happen while we’re on duty.” With that, he turned and went out for breakfast.

Kettlehead, watching Er Yong leave, responded cheerfully, closing the door as he muttered carelessly, “Nagging like an old woman—what could possibly go wrong?”