Chapter 92 Ironclad Evidence Slams Him in the Face! Old Dog Wang Gang is Terrified On the Spot

High noon had just arrived.

The sound of footsteps outside the courtyard gate stopped at the threshold, and after a two-breath pause, they stepped inside.

Director Wang Gang was dressed in deep blue official robes.

His black gauze cap was set squarely on his head, and the bronze seal of the Patrol Division Director at his waist swayed gently with his steps, its surface polished to a shine that reflected a piercing glint in the sunlight.

He was accompanied only by a clerk, who was hunched over and carrying nothing.

The moment he crossed the threshold...

His gaze swept across the training grounds, from the first row to the last, over the wooden spear in Instructor Qi Boyuan's hand, over the thirty men of the Combat Group in their uniform formation, and over the spear shafts and scabbards neatly arranged on the weapon racks.

The smile hanging at the corners of his mouth was exactly the same as his last visit—gentle, appropriate, and flawless.

Zhao Gang stood behind a corridor pillar, his eyes following Director Wang Gang's back for half a turn, his fists clenched at his sides until his knuckles turned white.

Lin Chen was waiting for him in the Conference Hall.

The hall door was half-open, and there was no third person inside; a pot of tea and two empty cups sat on the stone table, the teapot having just been boiled by the Logistics Team that morning, with wisps of steam curling upward from the spout.

Director Wang Gang walked in.

His pace was neither fast nor slow, the sound of his boots on the square tiles matching the rhythm of his speech—steady enough that no fault could be found.

He paused for a beat at the door and waved his hand to the side toward the clerk behind him.

"Wait outside."

The clerk bowed and retreated to the corridor, standing three paces away from Zhou Tie, who was guarding the door; neither looked at the other.

Lin Chen tilted his chin, gesturing toward the chair opposite him.

"Sit."

Director Wang Gang walked to the chair, first brushing off non-existent dust from the seat before sitting down, his movements composed as if he were attending a tea gathering with an old friend.

Zhou Tie closed the door from the outside, the copper rings striking the door panels with a dull thud.

Only two people remained in the hall, along with a pot of tea and two cups of water yet to be poured.

Director Wang Gang reached out for the teapot first.

He poured a cup for himself and then filled the cup in front of Lin Chen, the curve of his wrist turning just right, the stream of water from the spout thin and even, without a single drop splashing onto the table.

He placed the pot back on the table, picked up his own cup, brought it to his lips, and took a shallow sip.

"Since Centurion Lin wrote to invite me here, there must be important matters to discuss."

His tone was so gentle it didn't seem like he was here for a negotiation, but rather like he was visiting a relative.

He set the teacup back on the table, his finger tracing half a circle around the rim, the pad of his finger making a slight friction sound against the porcelain.

"If it's about that official letter suspending field operations, we can actually discuss it."

He tilted his head, his smile deepening slightly.

"The Patrol Division is one family, after all; there's no need to air internal disagreements in public."

Lin Chen did not drink the tea.

His hand rested on the mouth of the black abyss's scabbard, his thumb pressing against the texture of the ray skin, his posture no different from before Director Wang Gang entered.

He didn't take the bait of Director Wang Gang's words either.

He took a stack of documents from his robe, moving slowly, pulling them out one by one, straightening them, and placing them in the center of the table.

It wasn't the secret ledgers.

It wasn't Old Zheng's records of corruption.

Nor was it Zhou Pingan's confession.

It was a copy of a personnel transfer order.

The paper had already yellowed, with slight creases at the corners, but the handwriting and seal on it were still clear.

Director Wang Gang's gaze fell on the stack of documents and lingered for a breath.

The smile at the corners of his mouth did not change.

"This is?"

Lin Chen flipped to the first page of the document and pushed it to the middle of the table.

"The personnel order Director Wang signed three years ago to abolish the old patrol defense establishment; your seal is in the approval column."

His finger pressed down on the position of the seal, his voice matter-of-fact, each word landing flatly.

Director Wang Gang lowered his eyes to look at the seal, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly, and when he looked up again, his expression was as usual.

"That's an old matter from three years ago. Why has Centurion Lin dug this up?"

Lin Chen did not answer and flipped to the second page.

"The reason for the abolition was listed as redundant staffing and financial difficulties."

His finger traced the line of text on the paper from left to right, very slowly.

"But in the same year, in the budget the Patrol Division submitted to the Prefecture, personnel expenses did not decrease but instead increased."

He paused for a moment, flipped to the third page, and pressed his finger on the last line of text.

"The increased portion went to ghost pay under Commander Ma Kui's name."

The hand Director Wang Gang used to hold his tea paused for a split second in mid-air.

The movement was very slight, so small that an ordinary person would hardly notice; the teacup in his palm only tilted by half a degree, the tea at the rim swirling once before stabilizing.

But Lin Chen saw it.

Director Wang Gang placed the teacup steadily back on the table, released his grip on the cup, and rested his interlaced fingers on his knees.

The smile at the corners of his mouth added another layer, thicker than before, and also faker than before.

"Centurion Lin might not be aware."

His speaking speed slowed by half a beat, but his tone rose by a notch, conveying the patience of an elder educating a junior.

"These old accounts were all handled by Commander Ma Kui; as the Director, I was only responsible for signing and approving. With hundreds of documents passing through my hands every year, I can't be expected to track the flow of every single cent back to the person who signed it."

He moved his hands from his knees to the table, fingers interlaced, his posture relaxed.

"If we truly investigated according to Centurion Lin's method, no one in the entire Patrol Division would be clean."

He tilted his head, looking into Lin Chen's eyes.

"Centurion Lin is young and impetuous, I understand..."

"Director Wang."

Lin Chen interrupted him.

His voice wasn't heavy, but the interruption was decisive, like a blade cutting his words in half.

He flipped the document to the last page.

On it were two slips of paper pasted side-by-side; the left was a record from Old Zheng's ledger of secret funds handled by Commander Ma Kui—three hundred taels, dated the twelfth lunar month two years ago, with the remark 'New Year respect payment'.

On the right was an excerpt from the eleventh page of the secret ledger copy—three hundred taels, same date, with only two characters in the recipient column.

codename.

Lin Chen's finger landed on those two characters, tapping twice.

"codename."

He looked up, his gaze level with Director Wang Gang's eyes.

"Director Wang, this is your contact alias within the Wang family."

The Conference Hall fell silent.

It was so quiet that the sound of Zhou Tie's breathing under the corridor outside could be heard.

The dull thud of boots hitting the ground on the distant training field could be heard, as could the last bubble gurgling up as the boiling water in the teapot cooled.

The smile on Director Wang Gang's face seemed to be pinched by an invisible hand, freezing at the corners of his mouth.

It didn't disappear slowly; rather, the expression on his entire face lost its vitality in an instant. The corners of his mouth remained at that curve, but the muscles no longer cooperated.

His fingers tightened around the hem of his robe on his knees, the deep blue silk being bunched into several deep wrinkles, the bones of his knuckles protruding one by one from beneath his skin.

The silence lasted for four or five breaths.

Each breath felt as long as a stick of incense.

Then, Director Wang Gang laughed.

This laugh was different from all his previous smiles; the curve of his mouth stretched wider, revealing his teeth, but there was nothing in his eyes—they were empty, like two dry wells.

He moved his hands from his knees, interlacing his fingers again on the table, fingertips pressing against each other, the strength in every finger trembling slightly.

"Centurion Lin's chain of evidence..."

His speaking speed was half a beat slower, each word seemingly squeezed out from between his teeth.

"...is very interesting."

He unclasped his interlaced fingers, turned them over, and laid his palms upward on the table, a posture that seemed like showing his hand, yet also like demonstrating his transparency.

"But Commander Ma Kui is already in the Governors Mansion's dungeon; he can say anything. The testimony of a prisoner in custody, combined with two ledgers that don't match up, cannot secure a conviction in the Criminal Chamber."

He tilted his head, his gaze falling directly on Lin Chen's face.

"You know this."

Lin Chen did not argue.

Because Director Wang Gang was telling the truth.

The existing evidence was indeed insufficient to convict Director Wang Gang.

The link to the alias "codename" was merely a deduction, lacking a direct witness for a courtroom confrontation and a third-party witness to the transfer of silver.

But Lin Chen had never revealed these things for the purpose of an immediate conviction.

He withdrew the documents from the table, straightened them page by page, and placed them on his side, his right palm resting firmly on top of them.

"Director Wang, I'm not here to litigate a case with you."

His gaze met Director Wang Gang's eyes, his tone matter-of-fact as if reading a routine official document.

"I'm here to tell you one thing."

He paused for a beat.

"Withdraw the official letter suspending field operations before tomorrow."

His finger tapped lightly on the cover of the documents.

"The budget allocation for the East Courtyard, based on the standard for a full complement of one hundred men, must arrive by the end of this month."

Director Wang Gang's eyelid twitched.

Lin Chen continued, his speed and rhythm unchanged.

"If it's not done, these things won't be handed to the Governors Mansion."

He moved his hand from the documents, his fingers spreading and then closing as he rested them back on the mouth of the black abyss's scabbard.

"They will be handed to the Provincial Administration Commission."

The corner of Director Wang Gang's mouth twitched.

That twitch was ten times larger than the pause when he held the tea earlier, so large that even he didn't have time to hide it.

The Provincial Administration Commission.

Among the seventeen bribed officials in the secret ledgers, three were from the Provincial Administration Commission.

If these things, along with the deduction regarding codename, were handed to the Provincial Administration Commission, regardless of whether a conviction could ultimately be secured, the first reaction of those involved would not be to protect the Wang family.

It would be self-preservation.

And the fastest way to preserve oneself would be to bite Director Wang Gang to trade for relief.

With seventeen people sharing a unified story, as long as one person recanted, the entire line would rot from head to tail like a fish with its spine pulled out.

Director Wang Gang sat in his chair, motionless, his interlaced fingers on the table with knuckles protruding, each one whiter than the last.

He stared at Lin Chen for a long time.

Long enough for the pot of tea on the table to go completely cold, with not a single wisp of steam rising from the spout.

Then he stood up.

The chair legs scraped against the square tiles with a piercing sound that echoed twice in the enclosed Conference Hall.

He stood before the table for three breaths, his fingers at his sides clenching and then loosening, loosening and then clenching, the hem of his robe repeatedly bunched into a mess of wrinkles.

He did not respond to any of Lin Chen's conditions.

Not a single word.

He turned and walked toward the door, the sound of his boots on the tiles two beats faster than when he entered, his rhythm no longer even.

When his hand touched the door panel, he paused for two breaths.

"Centurion Lin."

He did not look back.

His voice came from the back of his head, muffled as if filtered through a layer of cloth.

"You should know that in this world, some rules are greater than the law."

The door panel was pushed open, and sunlight flooded in from outside, cutting his entire silhouette into two halves of light and shadow.

He stepped out of the Conference Hall, the hem of his deep blue robe dragging slightly on the threshold before disappearing among the corridor pillars.

The clerk bowed and followed, the footsteps of the two men receding along the corridor toward the courtyard gate, one after the other, growing fainter.

The courtyard gate opened and then closed, the sound of the copper rings striking the door panels carrying back and echoing in the empty courtyard.

Only Lin Chen remained in the Conference Hall.

He sat in his original place, picked up the cup of tea he hadn't touched from beginning to end, and brought it to his lips for a sip.

It was cold, and the bitterness was astringent.

He set the teacup back on the table, his finger lingering on the rim for a breath.

Zhou Tie pushed open the door and walked in, his iron spear held upright against his shoulder, his gaze sweeping over the chair Director Wang Gang had sat in.

"He didn't agree."

Lin Chen pushed the teacup aside.

"He didn't refuse either."

Zhou Tie frowned and sat down opposite him.

"Leaving it hanging?"

Lin Chen tucked the stack of documents into his robe and rested his palm back on the mouth of the black abyss's scabbard.

"It won't hang for long."

Night fell.

Shen Yue returned from the Governors Mansion, mud spots on her boot soles trailing all the way from the south of the city to the gate of the East Courtyard; she walked to the Duty Room and pulled a fire-sealed bamboo tube from her robe.

"Cheng Ji's reply."

She handed over the bamboo tube, her voice kept very low.

"The kitchen manager Lü San has been secretly detained by the Internal Affairs Division and is currently being interrogated."

Lin Chen broke the fire seal, pulled out the reply, and unfolded it.

On the stationery, besides the main body of the reply, there was an extra line of small characters at the end, the ink two shades lighter than the main text, added later.

Cheng Ji's handwriting.

"The Governor says you're moving faster than he expected."

After Lin Chen finished reading, he brought the slip of paper close to the candle flame at the corner of the desk.

The flame licked the surface of the paper, orange light spreading from the center to both ends; the stationery curled, blackened, and turned into ashes that fell into the bronze basin.

The ashes mixed with the remains of Nangong Xiong's previous secret order, making it impossible to distinguish the new from the old.

Shen Yue stood at the door, watching the last spark in the bronze basin extinguish.

"Is there anything else?"

Lin Chen pushed the bronze basin to the corner of the table.

"Regarding Wanbao Pavilion, what did the Enshrined Expert say?"

Shen Yue's lips pursed slightly.

"The Enshrined Expert said the three-day deadline will not change, but he asked one more question."

"What did he ask?"

"He asked if you have any other cards in your hand."

Lin Chen did not answer.

He withdrew his hands from the table and rested them on his knees.

"Go rest."

Shen Yue nodded, turned, and walked out of the Duty Room, her footsteps gradually receding along the corridor.

Lin Chen lay back on the bed, resting his arms behind his head, staring at the wooden ceiling of the Duty Room.

The flame of the oil lamp flickered on the wick, casting deep and shallow crisscrossing patterns on the wood grain of the ceiling, like an unfolded map.

Director Wang Gang hadn't agreed today, but he hadn't refused either.

But when he left, his robe hem had tripped on the threshold.

He hadn't tripped when he came in, but he did when he left.

It meant his mind was wandering.

It meant those things had hit home.

Lin Chen pulled his hands from behind his head and rested them on his chest, his palms pressed against his heart.

His heartbeat was steady, neither fast nor slow.

He tilted his head and looked through the broken window of the Duty Room toward the east of the city.

The window of the highest pavilion in the Wang family residence was lit again tonight.

Across half the city, the light was as small as a spark, flickering and dimming, embedded in the pitch-black skyline.

The old locust tree in the East Courtyard rustled in the night wind, the shadows of its leaves falling on the window paper and swaying back and forth, cutting that distant light into fragments.

The sound of footsteps from the changing of the guard came from outside.

Steady and orderly, the rhythm of the boot soles grinding against the stone slabs was exactly the same as the beat Instructor Qi Boyuan used during training.

Of the three-day ultimatum from Wanbao Pavilion, only two days remained.