“The conclusion is clear: no one could have taken the documents from Raymond in such a short time. The documents were lost after he died, and it happened within a few minutes afterward,” Nono said.
“Why within a few minutes?”
“Someone stepped in Raymond’s blood. The footprint was caught by your camera, and the blood was blurry, meaning it was stepped in right after it had spilled. There are many footprints at the scene, but only that one is close to Raymond. Raymond was an experienced agent, and even in a crisis, he wouldn’t have dropped the documents. So it was that person who stole the documents within a few minutes after the collapse,” Nono said. “And based on the footprints, the person was human with unsteady steps. A pure human would naturally be nervous in such a situation, so he would choose the closest exit. Exit C2 is right by your right hand side. We should be able to find more clues there.”
“Understood.”
“Now you need to imitate that person’s actions. Run towards Exit C2, but don’t use your speed—he wasn’t as fast as you,” Nono said.
Chu Zihang began running at an average speed, fully immersed in the scenario. He glanced left and right while running, mimicking the nervousness of a thief who had just stolen something.
An “SS”-level mission from the college, just because a petty thief stole some documents?
He suddenly stopped at Exit C2. Outside was the parking lot, and the camera showed two deep black tire tracks. One could imagine how panicked that car must have been while leaving. It was a high-powered car; its tires had softened from the heat, and the thief must have pressed the accelerator too hard out of fear, leaving those marks.
“You boys understand cars, so I don’t need to help further,” Nono laughed over the phone. “Good job, President. I’m taking your girl up into the mountains.”
Chu Zihang paused, then nodded slightly. “Thanks.”
“Oh, one more thing—just a feeling, but it’s not very reliable, for reference only,” Nono said. “There was a third person at the scene back then, standing right where you are now, and never moving. This person witnessed everything—Raymond’s death and the thief stealing the documents. The thief also saw this person. The thief’s footprints made a curve here, which means he saw something surprising—most likely a person.”
“What kind of person?”
“I don’t know. There are very few traces left of this person, so I can’t be sure. I just pieced together all the images you sent and got the feeling of a vague shadow witnessing everything.”
Chu Zihang was silent for a moment. “Understood.”
“Let’s go,” Chu Zihang approached Lu Mingfei. “That’s about it. I think we can solve this tonight.”
“Good, good!” Lu Mingfei nodded.
“We still have some time. Didn’t you say you needed to meet your cousin and aunt and uncle tonight? Why don’t you head back first? I have something to take care of, so I won’t drop you off for now.”
Lu Mingfei thought about how there wouldn’t even be a car to call at this place, but he kept that to himself and continued nodding. “Then I’ll meet up with you guys tonight.”
“We’ll regroup after the mission. I’ll arrange for a car to pick you up. We’ll carry out the mission separately—I have a bit more experience, so I’ll temporarily take charge of the action details. Is that alright, Agent?”
“Sure, sure! Those who can should do more!” Lu Mingfei patted his chest. “I trust you to handle things!”
Cassell College headquarters, central control room. Midnight—the drowsiest time. Guderian was sound asleep on the table, while Manstein and Schneider, with red eyes, flipped through a thick stack of directories, crossing off names one by one.
Manstein turned and glanced at his sleeping friend, frowning as he rolled up some tissues and stuffed them under Guderian’s gaping mouth to prevent his drool from wetting the documents.
“Got it,” Schneider whispered, pushing the directory across the table to Manstein.
“The tire tracks Chu Zihang found were left by a large-displacement SUV with 22-inch oversized rims and 285-millimeter-wide Bridgestone tires,” Schneider said. “Only modified Hummers or Escalades use those tires, and the most suspicious one among the owners listed is this one.”
Manstein took a look. “I know this name.”
The Escalade underlined by Schneider belonged to “Millennium Labor Export Company,” registered at “Runde Building.”
“Yes, this group are hunters,” Schneider said. “The team calls themselves the ‘Three Young Lords,’ led by someone named Tang Wei.”
“Some inexplicable elements have gotten involved in this matter,” Manstein said, “It’s really annoying.”
In Cassell College, not just anyone with a gun hunting wild pheasants could be called a “hunter.” “Hunter” specifically referred to a certain group of people. They were a loose organization, hired to solve problems for others. The organization consisted of outlaws, artists, avant-garde youth, and gang members—a very complex mix. The tasks they took on certainly weren’t helping old neighbors get cats out of trees, but rather things that lay between the boundaries of legality and illegality. It meant they usually didn’t take on assassination or arson jobs, but they would commit theft, grave-robbing, or looting of artifacts. A significant number of these tasks were related to the Dragon Tribe, like digging up alchemical tools from tombs.
These people from all walks of life converged on this dangerous and despicable industry for the real reason of a “bloodline call.” Most of them carried a bit of dragon lineage.
The college had noticed this hybrid organization about twenty years ago but had never been able to fully understand it. Nor did the college want to integrate these stragglers, as their blood purity was generally low. However, the college still kept tabs on them. Members of the Execution Bureau would register every hunter they found, and there were already thousands of entries in the hunter archives.
It wasn’t until last year that the college started seriously studying this organization—the elder of the “King of Bronze and Fire” was a hunter working in New York before awakening as a Dragon King, essentially just a petty thug.
But until now, the college had avoided direct contact with the hunters, and the hunters’ small-time activities rarely infringed on the college’s interests.
This time was different, though. It seemed that some of these low-purity hybrids had turned out to be dangerous enough to take down Raymond, an agent from the Execution Bureau, and even dared to go after documents that the School Board wanted.