383: Chapter 383 The Non-Existent File

Mud splashed onto the car window, covering that metal shard.

The riot control vehicle cut into the flow of traffic, its engine lowing.

The underground parking lot of the Provincial Department building was lit with pale, sickly lights.

Captain Zhao Tie pushed open the door and got out, walking straight toward the private elevator.

Chen Mo followed.

Su Qingxue tightly gripped the water-soaked kraft paper bag in her hand.

On the third basement level, a ten-centimeter-thick homogeneous steel plate door blocked their path.

Behind the door was the Top Secret Archive Room.

Jiang Jianguo sat behind bulletproof glass, unhurriedly flipping through a register.

Captain Zhao Tie flashed his ID.

"Pull the records for the Jiang City South District Orphanage from twenty years ago."

Jiang Jianguo stopped writing, glanced at the ID number, and tapped a few keys on the keyboard.

"The person you brought doesn't have authorization." He was referring to Chen Mo.

Captain Zhao Tie pressed his palm against the glass window. "I am the Captain of the Criminal Investigation Corps."

Jiang Jianguo pointed to the screen.

A red warning box occupied the entire interface.

"Top secret archive. Requires the Director's physical key or the joint signatures of three Deputy Directors."

He looked at Chen Mo.

"The rules don't recognize people."

Chen Mo stood still at the window.

The bulletproof glass reflected his face—cold and expressionless.

Those archives were the final piece of the puzzle.

His gaze fell on Jiang Jianguo's employee badge.

Thirty-five years of service.

Chen Mo knocked on the glass.

"The archives are inside."

Jiang Jianguo nodded.

"When was the last time you took inventory of the South District records?" Chen Mo asked.

"Last Friday, at 3:00 PM."

Chen Mo turned to Captain Zhao Tie.

"Smash it open."

Captain Zhao Tie stiffened, his hand moving to the sidearm at his waist. "This is the third basement level of the Provincial Department."

Chen Mo raised his hand and pointed to the corner of the ceiling.

"The surveillance indicator light flashes once every two seconds; it's normally three. The data is being overwritten."

He stared at Jiang Jianguo.

"The surveillance has been tampered with."

Jiang Jianguo stood up abruptly, slamming both hands on the desk.

"Nonsense! The internal network is physically isolated!"

Chen Mo pulled out his communication terminal.

"Li Ke, check the access logs for the Provincial Department's third basement level. Use the independent fire safety bus."

Rapid keyboard clicking came through the terminal.

"Report! Last Friday at 3:15 PM, someone used the Director's backup key to open Cold Storage No. 2!"

Captain Zhao Tie's facial muscles twitched as he grabbed his walkie-talkie.

"Technical Section, cut all external connections to the third basement! Security team, get here with breaching tools!"

Jiang Jianguo's hand lunged for the red alarm button on the desk.

"This is a violation of discipline!"

Once the alarm was pressed, the building would lock down, trapping them Li Ke turtles in a jar.

Chen Mo's gaze caught the space under Jiang Jianguo's right index fingernail.

A trace of blue powder.

A unique byproduct of the East District Chemical Plant.

An archivist shouldn't have come into contact with that.

Chen Mo reached out his right hand and pulled the window-breaking hammer from Captain Zhao Tie's waist.

His arm muscles tensed.

The tip of the hammer struck the stress point of the bulletproof glass.

Spiderweb-Li Ke cracks instantly exploded outward.

Jiang Jianguo's hand reaching for the alarm froze in mid-air.

Chen Mo pressed his left palm against the center of the cracks.

The mark on his wrist burned hot, and liquid metal seeped into the glass.

The reinforced structure silently disintegrated, and glass shards showered across the desk with a clatter.

Chen Mo reached through the opening, grabbed Jiang Jianguo by the collar, and dragged him out through the window.

Jiang Jianguo fell to the floor.

Chen Mo stepped over the window frame and into the archive room.

Captain Zhao Tie looked at the pile of glass shards that could have withstood rifle fire and followed him inside.

In front of the internal temperature-controlled cold storage cabinets, the green light on Cabinet No. 2 was lit.

Chen Mo pulled open the drawer.

A kraft paper bag with its seal intact.

Captain Zhao Tie's hand on his holster relaxed.

"The archives are still here."

Chen Mo weighed the paper bag; the weight was wrong.

He tore open the seal.

Two old dictionaries and a stack of blank paper fell out.

Captain Zhao Tie's breathing stopped.

Chen Mo crouched down, his gaze fixed on the bottom of the drawer.

A short white hair.

He pinched the hair with his thumb.

[Surface level residual sin extracted]

[Constructing Time Reflection]

His vision was swallowed by white light.

Inside the cold storage, a man in a janitor's uniform had his face covered by a mask.

He held the real archives in his hands.

The man walked to a trash can, pulled out a hidden compartment at the bottom, stuffed the archives inside, and closed it.

A white hair drifted down from his cuff.

The man turned and pulled off his mask.

A thin, gaunt face with a five-centimeter scar on his left cheek.

The image shattered.

Chen Mo stood up.

"The archives are in the garbage truck; it just left fifteen minutes ago."

Captain Zhao Tie grabbed his walkie-talkie: "Seal the underground garage—"

"Too late," Chen Mo interrupted him. "Track a man with a scar on his left cheek. Check the building's exit surveillance."

Su Qingxue immediately operated her tablet, accessing the traffic system.

"Three minutes ago, garbage truck license plate Jiang A489 left the Provincial Department's back gate."

"Li Ke, stay on it." Chen Mo walked toward the exit.

"Target has entered the North Ring Overpass, speed exceeding ninety!" Li Ke's voice came through the communicator.

"Get a car ready." Chen Mo stepped over the fallen Jiang Jianguo.

A police SUV sped wildly along the North Ring Overpass.

Captain Zhao Tie gripped the steering wheel tightly, while Chen Mo sat in the passenger seat.

"Scarface, Wang Qiang. Owner of the North District Slaughterhouse. Twenty years ago, he was the logistics procurement officer for the orphanage." Su Qingxue read out the information she had just found.

"He is one of the people crossed out in the photograph," Chen Mo said.

Ahead, the sign for the North District Slaughterhouse flashed by.

The iron gates were rusted shut.

The air was thick with the stench of blood and decay.

Nightingale silently leaped down from the top of the wall above the gate.

"The hinges are welded shut." She pointed to the edge. "One person alive inside, heart rate one hundred and forty."

Chen Mo stepped back, drew his gun, and aimed at the hinges.

Gunshots rang out, and the weld points burst.

He kicked open the iron gate.

Inside the factory building, rows of pig carcasses hung upside down. Water droplets fell—drip, drip.

His left wrist watch showed the heart rate source was two hundred meters away, the frequency unchanged.

He was afraid.

Chen Mo holstered his gun and drew his blade; Captain Zhao Tie raised his rifle.

The three of them moved in a triangular formation.

At the end of the corridor, light shone through the crack of an office door.

Chen Mo stopped and reached out to push the door open.

Wang Qiang was slumped over the desk, his carotid artery severed, blood soaking the spread-out archives.

A dead white dog hung from a hook on the ceiling, its fur matching the hair in the drawer.

Captain Zhao Tie checked the wound: "The cut is smooth. The killer left no more than three minutes ago."

The binding thread was broken; one page was missing.

Chen Mo reached out, his fingertips touching the pool of blood.

[High concentration of residual sin detected]

[Target heart rate relocked]

Distance four hundred meters.

Heart rate steady, no fear.

Chen Mo suddenly turned toward the window.

Outside the window was an abandoned freight rail track, with a coal train parked there.

The killer is on the train.

He propped himself on the windowsill, flipped out, and landed on the gravel roadbed.

Nightingale followed closely behind.

"Secure the scene," Chen Mo ordered Captain Zhao Tie, his figure already rushing toward the tracks.

The heart rate signal was moving.

The target was climbing the third carriage.

Chen Mo grabbed the ladder, quickly climbed onto the roof, and sprinted across the undulating piles of coal.

At the end of the roof, a figure stood against the wind.

A woman wearing a trench coat.

She turned around, holding a page of paper in her right hand.

Chen Mo stopped, his muzzle raised.

Ten meters apart.

"Drop the list."

The woman smiled.

The moonlight outlined her face.

That face was almost identical to Su Qingxue's, only with more marks of time at the corners of her eyes.

Nightingale, who had caught up, stopped by Chen Mo's side, her short blade sliding out.

"Captain Su's mother." Nightingale's voice was very low.

The woman held up the page.

"Consultant Chen, your reaction isn't slow."

Chen Mo's gun remained perfectly still.

"The person who crossed out the names back then was you."

The smile faded from the woman's face. "They wanted to change the world. They weren't worthy."

She took a step back, her heel hanging over the edge of the carriage.

"You getting that photo was exactly the effect I wanted."

"Who set the fire?" Chen Mo pressed.

"It was this world."

The woman let go.

The paper was swept away by the wind.

She leaned back and fell into the dark gap between the carriages.

Chen Mo lunged forward and looked down.

Only the howling wind and the cold tracks.

The figure was gone.

Nightingale flicked her wrist and caught the drifting page in the air.

She opened her palm.

Chen Mo took the page.

An orphan medical examination report from twenty years ago.

At the very top of the list, a name was circled in red ink.

[Chen Mo]

[Blood Type: RH Negative Type O]

[Genetic Feature Classification: Sample Zero]

The message on the back of the photo was also left for him.

The original owner of this body was the template for the experiment.

Chen Mo folded the list and stuffed it into his breast pocket, his movements stiff.

"Back to the Municipal Bureau."

He turned and walked down the cold iron ladder.

...

Jiang City Municipal Bureau, Cold Case Room.

The filing cabinet had been pried open, and records were scattered across the floor.

Su Qingxue stood in the middle of the mess.

Chen Mo stepped through the doorway, his eyes scanning the footprints on the floor.

Two men.

1.8 meters, 80 kilograms.

Su Qingxue looked up and handed over an empty kraft paper file bag.

"My mother's undercover files from back then... they're gone..."

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