51: Arrest

He instantly understood the other party's intention—to use the ironclad rule that "supernatural existences must not be exposed to the eyes of the general public" to restrict Lin Luo's actions. The opponent had already violated the rules by using supernatural power against ordinary people in the mundane world, so they naturally had nothing to lose. However, as a member of the Special Affairs Department, Lin Luo had to abide by the rules and could not display abilities beyond common logic in full view of the public.

Sure enough, as soon as he rushed into the densely populated area, the man was like a fish entering the ocean; although his speed slowed down, he became even harder to catch. He nimbly wove through groups of students and tourists, occasionally using the corners of buildings to block Lin Luo's line of sight.

Lin Luo was forced to restrain his shocking movement techniques, tracking only with superhuman physical fitness and combat skills, which greatly limited his efficiency. Some people nearby were already casting curious glances at this sudden "chase."

"Why is that person running?"

"Who's that chasing him from behind? He looks so handsome!"

"Is it a new academy event?"

The whispers reached his ears, and Lin Luo's heart sank further. He had to force this guy out of the crowd as soon as possible!

His gaze scanned the surroundings, his brain working rapidly to find a way to break the deadlock. Suddenly, he noticed an indoor culinary corridor not far ahead that connected two main buildings; it was relatively narrow, and the flow of people was currently sparse.

An opportunity!

Lin Luo accelerated again. As he neared the man's back, he suddenly lunged forward, his right hand clamping onto the other's nape like a steel pincer! This strike contained clever force, aimed at instantaneous subdual rather than creating a huge commotion.

The "attendant" seemed to have eyes in the back of his head, sliding sideways at the last moment to narrowly avoid the grab. He looked back at Lin Luo with a successful, sinister grin, his lips moving slightly as if preparing to chant an incantation—he might even be willing to involve the surrounding ordinary people to create chaos and escape.

Just at this critical moment—

"Hey! You sneaky guy over there, you're blocking my way!"

A clear, slightly dissatisfied voice rang out abruptly. Simultaneously, a flatbed trolley loaded with fresh ingredients (especially several large bags of flour) was "accidentally" shoved forward by a red-haired youth, colliding squarely with the "attendant's" waist!

It was Sōma Yukihira!

He looked as if he had just been passing by while moving ingredients, his face wearing a somewhat "pure and innocent" daze, but a hint of craftiness flashed in his bright eyes.

The "attendant's" spellcasting was interrupted by this sudden impact, causing him to stagger. A bag of flour on the cart burst open from the collision, and a fine white powder puffed out, instantly blurring his vision.

"Cough, cough!"

How could Lin Luo miss such a godsent opportunity? He lunged forward again like a leopard, taking advantage of the moment when the opponent's vision was obscured and his breathing was ragged, delivering a clean and sharp hand-chop precisely to the Acupoints on the back of the man's neck.

"Ugh..."

The "attendant's" body stiffened, a look of disbelief in his eyes as he slumped down. Lin Luo stepped forward, catching the limp body and naturally draping the man's arm over his shoulder, making it look like he was supporting an unwell companion.

"Thanks, Sōma," Lin Luo said in a low voice, looking at the red-haired youth.

Sōma scratched his head and grinned. "Just happened to be passing by, and that guy didn't look like a good person. Brother Luo, do you need help?"

"No, go on with your business. Remember, you didn't see anything today." Lin Luo shook his head, his tone serious.

Sōma nodded understandingly, pushed his "heroic" ingredient cart back to the person he had "borrowed" it from, and naturally blended into the crowd.

Propping up the unconscious "attendant," Lin Luo quickly turned onto a small path leading to the logistics area. He had to take this person out of the public eye as soon as possible for interrogation to uncover the mastermind behind him and... their true purpose regarding Tōtsuki Culinary Academy, or rather, the Nakiri family.

By the time Lin Luo brought the unconscious attendant back to Senzaemon Nakiri's bedroom, the atmosphere in the room had completely changed.

Though the smell of medicine hadn't fully dissipated, the silver-haired elder was already sitting up on the tatami. Despite the lingering paleness from his illness and a weakness that was hard to hide, his eyes had regained their former sharpness, like a crouching lion, commanding respect without needing to show anger. His gaze swept over the "attendant" Lin Luo had dropped on the floor; after studying him for a moment, he slowly shook his head, his voice low but filled with undeniable certainty:

"I do not know this man." He turned his gaze to the equally solemn old butler standing by his side. "Morita, is this someone you recruited?"

The butler named Morita stepped forward and bowed, his tone calm and certain. "Supreme Commander, that is not the case. I personally recruit and vet the inner household staff, who are responsible for both security and daily maintenance. I have memorized the face and background of every member. I am certain this man is not a member of the team."

Standing beside her grandfather, Erina Nakiri's violet eyes were filled with frost. Looking at the unconscious intruder on the floor, her voice was cold and questioning: "In that case, how did he get in? Butler Morita, when did the Nakiri family's defenses become so lax?"

Faced with the Young Miss's reprimand, Butler Morita lowered his head deeply, unable to respond.

Lin Luo spoke up at the right time to break the stiff situation: "Miss Erina, this is not the butler's negligence. For a Cultivator who possesses certain unconventional abilities, it is not difficult to deceive the eyes and ears of ordinary people if they intend to disguise their infiltration. Whether it's confusing perception, creating visual blind spots, or briefly disguising themselves as a specific target, there are many methods. My primary goal in bringing him back was to let the Supreme Commander confirm the attacker's existence and understand the truth."

After listening, a flash of understanding crossed Senzaemon Nakiri's clouded yet sharp eyes. Then, he made an unexpected decision. He slowly raised his hand, his voice carrying an authority that brooked no argument:

"Erina, Hisako, you two go out first. Morita, you as well. No one is to enter without my permission."

"Grandfather!" Erina cried out in disbelief, standing her ground stubbornly. "I can't leave you alone with this dangerous person!"

"This is an order!" Senzaemon's tone suddenly became stern. Without waiting for Erina to argue further, he directly ordered Butler Morita, "Take her out!"

After a brief hesitation, Butler Morita did as he was told, stepping forward and whispering words of comfort as he semi-forcibly escorted the unwilling Erina and the worried Hisako out of the room, closing the door from the outside himself.

The heavy door blocked out the outside world, and the room instantly fell into an eerie silence, broken only by the faint bustle of the academy in the distance and the barely audible breathing of the three people (including the unconscious one).

Using Lin Luo's support, Senzaemon Nakiri slowly stood up and draped a neatly folded Haori over his shoulders. His movements were slow but still carried the steadiness of someone long accustomed to a high position. Instead of returning to his sickbed, he walked to a guest sofa in the corner of the room and sat down firmly, his back perfectly straight.

Lin Luo understood Senzaemon's actions. The Supreme Commander wasn't just trying to sit more comfortably; he was using this movement to re-establish his posture as the one in control, even if he was still weak.

"It seems the Supreme Commander already has some suspicions about the person behind this?" Lin Luo asked calmly, standing beside the unconscious attendant.

Senzaemon's deep gaze swept over the unfamiliar face on the floor, his eyes as sharp as knives, as if he wanted to dissect the man from the outside in. He didn't answer Lin Luo's question directly, only saying in that low voice filled with undeniable power:

"Well, suspicions ultimately need to be confirmed. In any case, could I trouble you to wake this person first? There are some questions for which I would like to hear his answers personally."

His tone was polite yet carried a long-lost sense of command. This "demon king of cuisine" was rapidly reclaiming his rhythm.

"As you wish."

Lin Luo said no more. He crouched down, pressing his index and middle fingers together as a wisp of gentle yet penetrating spiritual light condensed at his fingertips. He didn't point directly at the other's brow, but held his hand three inches above the forehead; the light rippled out slowly like a wave, penetrating inward.

This was a gentler way of awakening that was less likely to trigger potential defense mechanisms.

The spiritual light was like a trickling stream, seeping into the attendant's Sea of Consciousness. His eyelids began to quiver slightly, his Adam's apple bobbed, and he let out a muffled groan. His consciousness was being slowly pulled back from the dark abyss.

However, the moment he was fully awake, his long-trained instincts immediately made him realize his situation—he had been captured!

"Ngh!" His eyes snapped open, his pupils focusing quickly after their initial haze, filled with fear and ruthlessness. He instinctively tried to surge with power, only to realize with horror that the Spiritual Qi vortex in his body, which usually obeyed his every command, was as still as dead water. His Dantian was completely sealed by a gentle yet incredibly resilient force. Even more chillingly, his 'Spiritual Perception' for perceiving the external spiritual environment felt as if it were covered by a thick layer of gauze, becoming obscured and unclear. He struggled to move his body, and the sensation of ropes rubbing against him brought him to complete despair—not only was his power suppressed, but his body was also tied up tightly with specialized ropes, like a pig or sheep awaiting slaughter.

Lin Luo stood before him at his leisure, looking down at his futile struggles with a cold curve at the corner of his mouth.

"Tell me," Lin Luo began, his voice calm but carrying an invisible pressure, "why would a Cultivator, who should be transcendent and exploring the Great Dao, fall so low as to... use such despicable means to deal with an elderly Mortal?" He deliberately emphasized "fall so low" and "despicable," making no attempt to hide the mockery in his words.

These words were like thorns, stabbing deep into the man's heart. He snapped his head up, his face distorted by humiliation and anger. His eyes burned with the fire of resentment as he glared at Lin Luo, as if he wanted to swallow him alive.

"Hmph!" He squeezed out a cold snort through his teeth, his voice hoarse but full of venom. "How could people like you... understand the struggle of us low-level Cultivators! With superior talent and the backing of great clans or national institutions, resources and techniques are within your reach. Of course you can act superior and talk about rules and morality!"

He struggled excitedly, trying to lift his upper body as the ropes bit deep into his flesh. "You don't need to risk your lives for a piece of jade containing Spiritual Qi or a bottle of Medicinal Pills to aid your cultivation! You don't have to fight like rats in a gutter for those meager resources! Of course you can be noble! But what about us? We don't have your luck! If we want to move one step forward, we have to fight with our lives! We have to trade our dignity for it!"

Lin Luo's eyes remained indifferent, completely unmoved by this tragic accusation, as he asked in return:

"Because resources are scarce, you can target ordinary people? Rogue Cultivators refuse to be under official jurisdiction, so it's naturally difficult to have stable resources; that was your own choice. Since you chose freedom, you should bear the corresponding price. If you can't make it, isn't that a problem with your own ability or Heart-Nature? Since when did that become an excuse for you to trample on the ironclad rules and harm Mortals?"

These words precisely punctured the "victim" logic the other was trying to establish. The assassin's breath hitched, his face flushed red, and the venom in his eyes grew, but he was momentarily speechless. He opened his mouth, wanting to argue further with clichés about official organizations having too many rules or great clans being hard to join... However, Senzaemon Nakiri, who had been sitting silently on the sofa, slowly opened his eyes. Those aged yet eagle-sharp eyes gazed calmly at the assassin on the floor, as if he had long since seen through everything behind him.