Chapter One Hundred Fourteen: Age Is an Issue

Ye Chen moved like a gust of wind, swiftly weaving through the streets and alleys. The scenery blurred past him, the crowds faded behind...

He had purposely reserved the residential area for himself because he was confident in his current pace. Especially when pushing himself to the limit, his speed was comparable to that of a vehicle moving through the streets.

As he ran, he recalled: aside from the little girl known as Egg Tart Sister, the other two missing children were from the Ninth and Eighth Residential Districts respectively. Both were offspring of wealthy families in the outer city.

Kidnappings happened regardless of wealth—whether poor or rich, it seemed random, or was it a deliberate attempt to confuse people?

Without a hint of embarrassment or hesitation, Ye Chen knocked on the door of the missing child’s home in the Eighth Residential District. A young woman with reddened eyes and tear-streaked makeup answered.

“Who are you?”

“Patrol Department. I’m here to inquire about your child’s disappearance.”

The woman eyed Ye Chen up and down, suspicion evident in her voice. “The Patrol Department has always ignored me, treating me coldly as if I were invisible. Why are you here now? Who exactly are you?”

This back-and-forth of evasion and passing the buck was practiced and refined! At moments like this, good looks played their part. Ye Chen, with his sharp brows and striking features, tightened his expression, subtly unbuttoned his coat to reveal the Patrol Department uniform beneath, then buttoned it up again. For ordinary people, that uniform was enough proof of his identity.

“Sister, we’re cautious not to spook the suspects. If they feel threatened and resort to desperate measures, it could be disastrous. That’s why the Department has us investigating discreetly.”

Ye Chen spoke with righteous solemnity.

The woman’s eyes reddened further; her knees weakened as if ready to collapse into his arms.

“No, no, please, sister, tell me everything you know and have heard.”

“Hmm...” That sound didn’t sit right.

Under Ye Chen’s calming words, the woman recounted: yesterday evening, while she was cooking dinner at home and her husband was present, a child from the Ninth Residential District knocked on their door, inviting her child out to play for a short while, promising to return before dinner.

This was common enough; usually, she would scold her child once or twice, who would come home drenched in sweat.

Besides, she knew the other child’s parents—they were quite influential in the outer city. She and her husband welcomed the chance to maintain good relations between the families.

But that night, they waited the entire evening—and the other child disappeared too.

They had not contacted the Patrol Department that night.

They were well aware of the Patrol Department’s inefficiency. The officers who came around were only those free of other duties and were no match for organizing their own search parties.

After a whole night of searching, no trace was found.

Ye Chen noted this key detail: the child was lured away and then vanished without a trace.

Declining the woman’s kind offer of tea, Ye Chen immediately moved on to the next household.

This time, he was received by a middle-aged man with a stern demeanor, whose words and actions betrayed a deep distrust of the Patrol Department.

Yet reason told the man that a covert investigation was understandable, and it would be better if he could contribute.

At least, Ye Chen gave the impression of someone genuinely willing to help.

After questioning, Ye Chen felt disappointment again; the useful information gathered remained scant.

He summarized: their child was something of a leader among the children in these streets. Well-off, generous, often inviting friends over to play.

After the children disappeared, the family organized a thorough search within the area—yet still found nothing.

Under the moonlight, in a courtyard on a balcony, a figure leaned against the railing. Left hand holding a communicator, right hand a cigarette.

The screen’s pale glow illuminated Ye Chen’s face as he reviewed messages from Jin Yinghui and Zhou Peng.

His expression was grave, brows furrowed—clearly, the information was not promising.

After visiting the second household that afternoon, he hadn’t rushed back to the market district but lingered in the residential area.

Posing as a passerby, he inquired in shops, restaurants, and among street vendors for any rumors or whispers.

The results were equally disappointing.

Ye Chen compared his collected information with what Jin Yinghui and Zhou Peng had sent, drawing a conclusion that was hard to accept.

It seemed the missing children were playing a large-scale game of hide-and-seek, deliberately and tacitly hiding themselves within the bustling city.

Compared to the children who disappeared from the farms outside the city, their methods appeared clumsier—simply wandering off into the wilderness.

Ye Chen slowed his breathing, activating his “Back-Eye Insight.”

He wasn’t searching for anything specific but sought to immerse himself in a world of black-and-white lines—a sensory realm visible only to him.

To calm his mind.

With his current inner energy reserves and not engaged in combat, the energy consumption was negligible.

He could see through objects but not the events behind them; the camouflage woven by human deception was a thicker barrier than any rock.

That was his first reflection.

His second was: there was still some gain—upon careful thought, the missing children shared a common trait.

Their ages.

All were under ten years old, the eldest only nine.

Could there be some hidden significance?

Putting aside the fact that children over ten on the farms were sent to work, and those under ten were left at home, giving others an opportunity.

Why were the missing children in the outer city also all under ten?

Was it because younger children were easier to coax and deceive?

Or perhaps easier to... control?

A strange sensation slowly spread through his heart.

But he was still just shy of grasping the crucial thread of thought.

Then...

“Crash! Bang!”

In the silent night, the sound of overturned tables and chairs, the shattering of bowls, was piercing and sharp.

Followed by a woman’s angry scream, a man’s furious shouting, and a child’s plaintive crying.

Ye Chen turned his head toward the source.

“Uh... isn’t this the neighboring yard where children were heard playing and laughing the other day?”

“What on earth is going on with this family violence in the middle of the night?”

Ye Chen did not close his Back-Eye Insight but expanded its scope, sweeping his vision over the adjacent courtyard.

Since reaching Rank D, the field of view of his Back-Eye Insight had increased—from three meters to thirty meters.

“Damn!”

The next instant, Ye Chen couldn’t help but curse under his breath.