191: Chapter 191 onwards

Lin Ning: "If you haven't reached a result by three o'clock, let me see Ryan Muller."

Chen Zhi's brows furrowed even deeper: "What are you trying to do? Ryan Muller isn't connected to that side; he doesn't know the specific location or time. Didn't you say that your ability could only be used to look at specific individuals?"

Lin Ning ignored Chen Zhi's questioning and continued on his own: "The morning prayer of XXX is between dawn and sunrise. If there's still no result by three o'clock, just let me try once."

Lin Ning let go and took a step back, his expression calm: "You go get busy; I'll find a place to rest for a while."

"Lin Ning." Chen Zhi called out to him from behind.

Lin Ning turned back.

Chen Zhi's back was actually slightly hunched, and his voice was extremely hoarse: "Go sleep in the lounge; I'll have someone bring you the key."

It was the same room Lin Ning had stayed in before—a bunk bed, a chair, and a table—as simple as it could get.

Lin Ning lay down on the bed and set the alarm for 2:40.

He began to think about his action strategy in his mind—

Divination of Cause looks at the past, Divination of Insight looks at the future.

The dot before the name is the 'cause,' the life a person has already walked; the point of light after the profession is the 'fruit,' the future that has yet to happen.

Last time, he only tentatively touched it and discovered that it was countless glowing chains entangled together, forming that 'fruit,' and every single one was a possible future.

With his current Psychic Power, at best he could only piece together one line. If he chose wrong, not only would he fail to get the information, but he might also completely lose himself in the process.

How should he choose to get the clues about the bomb with the highest probability?

What should he do to save his life?

After deducing all the possibilities, Lin Ning felt a little more confident.

He closed his eyes, cleared all thoughts and ideas, and focused his attention on the rhythm of his breathing.

His breathing became lighter and lighter, and slowly, he sank into sleep.

The night was thick and dark, moonless and starless tonight, yet the entire small building was brightly lit. Lights shone from within every window, and figures moved about, like the only fire in the darkness that refused to be extinguished.

At 2:35 AM, Lin Ning woke up.

He didn't move, just stared quietly at the ceiling. His mind was blank, yet it felt stuffed with things, heavy and suffocating.

At 2:40, the alarm went off on time.

Lin Ning got up and walked into the bathroom.

Cold water splashed onto his face; it was bone-chillingly cold, but it couldn't suppress the burning heat rising from the bottom of his heart.

Straightening up, Lin Ning looked at himself in the mirror.

His complexion wasn't too bad, the bloodshot veins in his eyes were still there, but his gaze was exceptionally calm.

He stared at the person in the mirror for a long time, then fiercely complimented himself: "Damn, I'm handsome! A handsome bastard like me can't die!"

He wanted to force a smile, his lips moved, but in the end, he couldn't lift them.

He watched quietly for another two seconds, then resolutely turned and walked out the door.

Walking to the doorway, he suddenly stopped.

He took out his phone, opened his WeChat page, and looked at Mom, Sister, Big Old Wang, Madman, Officer Li Feng...

His finger hovered for a long while before clicking on Jiang Yu's profile picture.

In the dialogue box, he typed out three words: "I love you."

He stared at that line of text for a long time until the screen automatically dimmed, then slowly deleted it one character at a time.

Putting away his phone, Lin Ning pulled open the door and strode out.

The corridor was still brightly lit, and there were no fewer people.

The doors to the offices were wide open; some people were arguing in low voices, some were whispering into phones, some were buried in documents with furrowed brows, some were constantly marking on whiteboards, and some were trotting back and forth with files in their arms.

Everyone was giving it their all.

There were many people, but they were busy without being chaotic. The whole building was like a precision-running machine—cold and grim, yet one could feel a raging fire suppressed within, ready to erupt at any moment.

Everyone had an urgency, wishing they could be faster, yet not a single person showed any fear.

What they feared was their compatriots getting hurt, their country suffering damage; it was never the threats and provocations of the enemy.

Lin Ning took a deep breath and strode upstairs.

Chen Zhi was standing at the entrance of the office at the end of the third-floor corridor, giving instructions to a few people. He was clutching a folder, his brows knitted into a knot.

Lin Ning walked over.

Chen Zhi saw him, and his gaze paused for a moment.

"First, continue to deduce based on the A3 conclusion. Compare the traces of the communication lines, and urge them again, especially regarding the mobile phone signal trajectories."

After sending the others away, Chen Zhi looked back at Lin Ning.

Lin Ning stood in front of him, his expression calm, showing no trace of panic.

"Is there a result?"

Chen Zhi's throat moved, and his voice was hoarse and jarring: "We have already locked onto a few people who have had contact with the upline; with a little more time to compare..."

He couldn't continue.

Would the enemy give them time?

"Already prepared" meant at any moment—perhaps just a while from now.

Lin Ning said softly: "I know. Given enough time, you can ferret out those people one by one."

Chen Zhi looked at him without speaking.

Lin Ning: "Arrange for me to see Ryan Muller; let's give it a try."

Chen Zhi remained silent.

"Do you still remember Gao Yayin?" Lin Ning suddenly spoke up.

Chen Zhi looked up.

Lin Ning looked at him, his gaze calm, yet there was something heavy pressing down, making one's chest tighten.

"Let's cooperate like that one more time," Lin Ning said.

He paused, and the corners of his mouth tugged slightly, like a smile, but not quite.

"Remember to catch me."

His voice was very soft, carrying a few traces of imperceptible trembling.

After half a second, a sentence as faint as a mosquito's hum drifted out: "I'm a little afraid of pain."

After finishing, he turned and went downstairs.

Chen Zhi stood where he was, staring fixedly at Lin Ning's back. His eyeballs were bloodshot, his teeth clenched, and two hard veins bulged on his jaw.

Behind him, in the large office, those bigwigs from the department had come out at some point and were watching this side. Across a distance, their expressions were unclear, but their demeanor, usually like a stabilizing force or a mountain-settling rock, had now become solemn.

Chen Zhi did not turn back.

After a second's pause, he strode to follow.

The basement corridor was long, the ghastly white light shining on the concrete floor. Iron doors on both sides were tightly shut, no windows, no extra sounds, only the two men's footsteps, one after the other, knocking dully into the air.

Chen Zhi was in front, Lin Ning was behind, and they didn't speak the whole way.

Walking to the last door at the end of the corridor, Chen Zhi stopped, stared at the door for two seconds, and pressed the button by the door.

The door made a slight clicking sound as it unlocked.

He ignored the person peeking out from the crack in the door and turned to look at Lin Ning.

Lin Ning was also looking at him, his gaze complex. His lips moved, but he swallowed the words that were on the tip of his tongue.

He wanted to say, "What if..."

But he dared not say the two words "what if."

Chen Zhi looked at his calm yet resolute eyes, and his heart sank sharply. He suddenly realized something was wrong—the huge difference between Lin Ning's behavior now and his past behavior.

His brows furrowed fiercely, and he said urgently: "You..."

Lin Ning stepped forward, squeezed in front of him, and interrupted in a low voice: "Listen well to the information I give you."

After finishing, he pushed the door open.

The interrogation room was more spacious than imagined, the ghastly white light falling on the iron chair in the center.

Ryan Muller hung his head, his hands and feet cuffed, his body covered in bloodstains.