138: The darkest place is under the lamp.

"Don't let it crash!"

Li Ke huddled in the corner, gripping the handrail tightly with both hands, his face paler than dead pork.

"If it gets knocked senseless, or if the neural connections break, we're completely finished!"

"It's not that fragile." Chen Mo gritted his teeth, cold sweat dripping down his nose and splattering onto the hot casing of the cabinet. "This thing almost chopped us all up a moment ago."

The carriage was filled with the lingering stench of raw pig blood, mixed with the smell of motor oil and the odor of sweat from Li Ke.

Su Qingxue was driving up front.

This vehicle was normally used to transport illegally slaughtered black pork. The windows were covered with an almost opaque black film, making it impossible to see inside from the outside, and only a blur could be seen looking out from the inside.

"There's a roadblock ahead."

Su Qingxue's voice came from the driver's seat, slightly hoarse. "It's a Special Investigation Bureau checkpoint, three armored vehicles, and drones."

Ninth Master lay in the passenger seat, his two broken ribs making his breathing whistle, but he still strained to peer out the window:

"These sons of bitches... they never made such a fuss when busting me for transporting illegal meat."

"Should we charge through?" Li Ke asked, his voice trembling.

"Charge my ass." Chen Mo adjusted his posture, resting his broken leg on a Styrofoam box used for pork. "Slow down, turn on the high beams, and honk the horn."

"What?" Su Qingxue thought she had misheard.

"The people from the Special Investigation Bureau are currently fixated on high-tech mechas and super criminals."

Chen Mo reached up and wiped the bloodstains from his face, revealing a row of stark white teeth.

"They won't check a beat-up van delivering pork, especially when that van is actively honking its horn, complaining that they're blocking the road."

This was a psychological blind spot.

The more secretive you are, the easier it is to be suspected.

The more arrogant and overbearing you are, the more you resemble an ignorant commoner.

Su Qingxue glanced at Chen Mo through the rearview mirror.

The man's eyes were bloodshot, his pupils constricted—a physiological reaction to extreme pain—but his gaze was terrifyingly bright.

It was the fervor of a gambler about to go all-in.

Honk—!!!

Su Qingxue slammed down on the horn.

The dilapidated van let out a screech like a broken gong, its high beams piercing the darkness of the rainy night, shining directly onto the faces of the Special Investigation Bureau agents ahead.

Several fully armed agents instinctively raised their guns, squinting against the glare of the headlights.

Su Qingxue rolled down the window, stuck half her head out, and started cursing: "What the hell are you doing?! Good dogs don't block the way! If this meat is delivered late, the restaurant owner will dock my pay—are you going to cover the loss?"

That feisty demeanor, coupled with her greasy casual clothes she hadn't had time to change out of, made her look exactly like a cranky, middle-aged female driver.

The agents exchanged glances.

The lockdown level here was the highest. They were looking for the super hacker and murderer who could break into military networks, subconsciously setting their target as a high-intelligence, low-profile, ruthless character.

Who would have thought the target would be inside this junk car, cursing them out?

"Get lost! Don't hold up official business!" A leading agent waved impatiently, signaling them to pass. "Check the next one!"

The van revved its engine, its exhaust pipe spitting out a puff of black smoke, and swaggered through the cordon.

Inside the carriage.

Li Ke collapsed onto the floor, gasping for air as if he had just been pulled out of water.

"Manics..." he muttered to himself. "You're all manics."

Chen Mo ignored him, merely looking down at the cabinet in his arms.

The brain in the nutrient solution seemed to sense something, its surface folds twitching slightly.

"How much further?" Chen Mo asked.

"Past that traffic light ahead, turn left, and you'll be at the Municipal Bureau back entrance." Su Qingxue's voice was calm again, but the knuckles gripping the steering wheel were still white.

The Municipal Bureau building was brightly lit.

Police sirens blared one after another, and police cars rushed out of the gate like mad dogs, heading to reinforce the various checkpoints.

Just as Chen Mo had predicted.

The Municipal Bureau was currently hollow inside, like a walnut with only a shell.

"Take the garbage route." Chen Mo pointed to the inconspicuous alley on the side of the building. "That leads to the back kitchen of the cafeteria and... the Evidence Department's discarded item disposal chute."

That was a route Old Lin had taken him through once.

Back then, when Old Lin had just recruited him, he often sneaked out this way to grab a late-night snack, just to avoid the Director's nagging.

The car engine was turned off, and it coasted into the dark alley.

The rain grew heavier, the drops drumming loudly on the corrugated iron garbage cans, perfectly masking the sound of them getting out of the car.

"Ninth Master, stay in the car and keep watch." Chen Mo handed Ninth Master a spare boning knife. "If we're not out in half an hour, drive the car straight into the main gate. Whether you escape or not is up to fate."

Ninth Master took the knife and grunted, "I've slaughtered countless pigs in my life, but I've never had to pull a stunt like this. Go on, avenge Old Lin."

Chen Mo hoisted the heavy cabinet onto his shoulder.

The gauze wrapped around his broken leg was already soaked with blood. With every step, a faint bloody footprint was left on the ground, only to be immediately washed away by the rain.

Su Qingxue supported his arm.

"I can walk." Chen Mo pushed her away. "You take the gun and watch our back."

The three of them, like rats in a sewer, squeezed into the discarded item entrance that reeked of decay.

The motion sensor light here had been broken for a long time, flickering on and off like a scene from a horror movie.

The corridor was empty.

All police personnel had been dispatched. The remaining clerical staff were frantically busy in the Command Center, and no one paid attention to the muddy intruders.

"The Archives Office is on the third floor." Su Qingxue whispered. "We can't take the elevator; there are cameras."

"Take the stairs."

Those hundred-plus steps were sheer torture for Chen Mo.

He bit his lip, using that pain to counteract the intense agony in his leg.

Finally.

They reached the third floor.

The heavy iron door at the end of the corridor was the old Archives Office.

This place stored all the paper archives since the bureau's establishment. Due to digitalization reform, no one usually came here; only marginal personnel like Old Lin, who was close to retirement, would drink tea and read the newspaper here.

The door was locked.

But that didn't stop Su Qingxue.

She took a hairpin from her hair and fiddled with the keyhole twice.

Click.

The door opened.

A moldy smell of old paper rushed out.

Chen Mo was too familiar with this smell.

It was the scent of Old Lin, and the smell he had encountered most frequently over the past month.

The room was pitch dark, and only when lightning flashed outside did the rows of tall iron shelves cast monstrous shadows on the walls.

"Where is that cabinet?" Li Ke asked, clutching his computer and looking around nervously.

"The innermost one, by the window."

Chen Mo limped toward it.

The safe was very old; the green paint was peeling and mottled, exposing the rust underneath.

This was Old Lin's private domain.

Chen Mo remembered clearly that the first thing Old Lin did every day when he came to work was take a rag and meticulously wipe down this cabinet.

While wiping, he would mutter, "This is the Cold Case Unit's ultimate treasure."

But Chen Mo had never seen Old Lin open it.

Chen Mo reached out, his hand trembling as he touched the cold dial lock.

"The password?" Su Qingxue asked. "Birthday? Badge number?"

"Neither."

Chen Mo closed his eyes.

He was recalling.

Recalling Old Lin's movements when wiping the cabinet.

Old Lin wasn't wiping randomly.

Three turns left, two turns right, pause, then one turn left.

That wasn't the movement of wiping dust.

He was using the rag as a cover, confirming the dial lock settings every single day!

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