22: Chapter 22 The police badge is too heavy; it can easily bend your spine.

To describe the current state of the 127th Precinct as a "morgue" would be a compliment.

The FBI crowd was like a swarm of passing locusts. Not only did they take Chief Brian and Detective Murphy, but they also swept away half a ton of dusty documents from the archives.

The remaining officers huddled behind their desks like startled quails, not even daring to answer the ringing phones for fear that the voice of Internal Affairs or a prosecutor would come from the receiver.

Chen Mo sat at his desk, spinning a cheap ballpoint pen in his hand, his gaze falling on the empty door of the chief's office ahead.

The door was open, and the mahogany desk inside had been half-cleared, looking exceptionally desolate.

"Chen? Robert Chen?"

A deep, raspy voice, clearly that of a heavy smoker, broke the dead silence.

Chen Mo stopped spinning his pen and looked up.

Standing at the door of the chief's office was an unfamiliar face.

He was around fifty, with a receding hairline, wearing a slightly ill-fitting gray suit with his tie loosely draped around his neck, holding a steaming paper cup in his hand.

"It's me, sir." Chen Mo stood up, his posture standard and faultless.

"Come in."

The man waved his hand and turned to walk into the office.

Chen Mo adjusted his uniform and followed him in.

The man didn't sit in the leather swivel chair that symbolized power. Instead, he leaned against the window, looking out at Brooklyn's gray sky.

"I'm Chief Sullivan, sent by the higher-ups to clean up this mess."

The man turned around. There was no fire of a newly appointed official in his eyes, only a weariness that had seen through the coldness of the world.

"That idiot Chief Brian turned this place into a cesspool, and now I've been splattered with shit too."

Chen Mo didn't reply, choosing to remain silent. At a time like this, keeping his mouth shut was the best response.

Chief Sullivan took a sip of cheap coffee, frowned, and then turned his gaze to Chen Mo.

"I've read your file. On the force for three months, killed the wanted criminal Marcus, clean background, no bad habits, and most importantly... you're the only one in the entire precinct who didn't end up on Chief Brian's damn ledger."

"Maybe it's because my rank wasn't high enough, sir," Chen Mo said calmly.

"Don't be modest, kid. Luck is also a form of strength." Chief Sullivan pulled a metal object from his pocket and tossed it over.

Chen Mo raised his hand and caught it precisely.

It felt slightly heavy in his hand, carrying the distinct coldness of metal.

It was a golden badge.

No longer a patrol officer's silver shield, but a golden eagle shield representing investigative authority.

"Detective?" Chen Mo raised an eyebrow, his fingers tracing the patterns on the edge of the badge.

"Probationary. The Major Crimes Unit only has a handful of people left. If I don't promote you, do you expect me to go out and arrest people myself?"

Chief Sullivan walked to the desk, picked up a document, and tossed it down. "Sign it, then go collect your new service weapon and plainclothes allowance."

Chen Mo looked at the promotion order and didn't pick up the pen immediately.

"What? Think this seat is too hot to handle?" Chief Sullivan narrowed his eyes.

"No, sir." Chen Mo toyed with the badge, his tone flat. "I have a request."

"Speak."

"I wish to retain my position as the Medical Examiner's Office liaison."

Chief Sullivan froze for a moment, looking at Chen Mo as if he were looking at a monster.

"Are you out of your mind? That's a place where they banish screw-up cops. You're a detective now, and you still want to go smell formalin?"

"I've learned a lot there, sir. Dead bodies are often more honest than the living."

Chen Mo pinned the badge to his waist and looked up to meet Chief Sullivan's gaze.

"Besides, the Major Crimes Unit needs to get autopsy information as soon as possible. Being there makes me more efficient."

Chief Sullivan stared at Chen Mo for a full five seconds, as if trying to read something from the young man's face.

But all he saw was a dead, water-like calmness.

"Whatever you want." Chief Sullivan waved his hand as if shooing a fly.

"As long as you can solve cases, I don't care if you live in the morgue. Now get out."

Walking out of the office, Chen Mo could feel that the looks from his colleagues around him had changed.

It was no longer mockery, nor was it entirely envy; it was more of a sense of awe and estrangement.

In such a turbulent time, someone who could rise against the current was either incredibly lucky or unfathomably deep.

Chen Mo didn't care about those looks. He walked straight down to the basement.

Pushing open the heavy door of the morgue, the familiar blast of cold air and chemical odor washed over him, making him feel a trace of... comfort.

Old George was sitting next to a corpse that hadn't been stitched up yet, holding a bottle of whiskey he'd hidden somewhere, with two disposable paper cups set in front of him.

"I knew you didn't belong in the basement, kid."

George didn't even turn his head when he heard the footsteps, pouring the amber liquid into the cups.

"How's the air up there? Is it filled with the stench of power?"

Chen Mo walked over, picked up a cup, and downed it in one gulp.

The spicy alcohol burned down his throat, dispelling the chill in his body.

"Not bad." Chen Mo slapped the golden badge onto the autopsy table with a crisp clink. "Slightly warmer than here."

George glanced at the badge and sneered, "Detective, huh. Another lapdog for the precinct."

"A lapdog with teeth," Chen Mo corrected.

George picked up a scalpel and pointed at the badge.

"Remember, Robert, this thing is both an amulet and a target. Especially when you want to look into certain things."

Chen Mo looked into the old man's cloudy eyes. He knew George's words held a deeper meaning.

This lame old medical examiner had seen more dead people than Chen Mo had seen living ones. The secrets in his gut were probably even more explosive than that USB drive.

*Ding!*

Right then, a crisp notification sound suddenly rang in Chen Mo's mind.

This sound was sweeter than any before.

He subconsciously closed his eyes, and the system's translucent interface expanded in the darkness.

The light blue experience bar that had been accumulating for a long time finally broke through the top at this moment, bursting into countless fragments of light.

[System upgrade successful!]

[Current Level: Lv3]

[Mental Strength limit increased to: 50]

[New Function Unlocked: Trait Enhancement]

Chen Mo's heart skipped a couple of beats.

He quickly browsed the description of the new function.

[Trait Enhancement: Consume system experience points to enhance and upgrade owned traits. Upgrading a white trait to green requires 1,000 experience points, and green to blue requires 5,000 experience points...]

Although the consumption was massive, it meant he no longer had to rely entirely on luck to "scavenge" corpses.

As long as he had enough experience, he could forcefully stack [Basic Firearms Mastery] all the way to [Gun God].

This was a qualitative change.

Chen Mo opened his eyes, a sharp glint flashing across them.

"Looks like this alcohol has quite a kick," George muttered, looking at Chen Mo's shining eyes.

"You look like you just took a massive hit of something."

The corner of Chen Mo's mouth curled up slightly. "Even more thrilling than that."

Just then, the phone in his pocket vibrated.

It wasn't his personal phone, but the police communicator just issued to him by the logistics department.

Chen Mo picked up the call. Before he could speak, the hurried voice of the dispatch center came from the other end.

"Detective Chen? This is dispatch. 40 Wall Street, someone jumped from a building. The deceased's identity is sensitive. The Chief specifically named you to handle it."

Chen Mo hung up the phone and looked at George.

"Looks like the celebration is over."

George shrugged, picking up his scalpel to continue his work.

"Go on, go collect your corpse. Remember, in a place like Wall Street, dead people are often cleaner than the living."

Chen Mo grabbed his coat and turned toward the door.

"George."

As he reached the door, Chen Mo suddenly stopped in his tracks.

"What?"

"Save the best freezer for me. This guy might be very interesting."