For Wu Heim Semekaletu C

With a loud bang, a chair fell apart in Michael's hands. His partner hurriedly stepped between him and the "informant," trying his best to calm Michael down.

Today's operation had been a complete failure. Whether it was Lin Qi, who had made a last-minute delivery, or the other team that had searched his temporary residence, neither had found anything unusual.

Not to mention the at least five thousand sols in small change the informant had mentioned—they had not even seen a single sol, whether on Lin Qi himself or in that room.

The failed operation meant Michael would lose face before his colleagues. The hierarchy and professional relationships within the Federal Revenue Service made this special department far more competitive than outsiders could imagine.

Everyone wanted to become an "agent," not an "investigator," and Michael had been one of those with an excellent chance of promotion.

But if this failed operation alerted Lin Qi and Fox, causing the subsequent plan to fail as well, then he would become a laughingstock and could forget about getting promoted for the next two or three years.

When most people encountered problems and trouble, they pushed the blame onto others. Michael attributed this failure to the informant's unreliable intelligence.

So he had summoned the informant to this room, then, amid furious roars, lifted a chair and smashed it hard across his back.

"Do you know how much I've lost because of your bad intelligence?" he demanded, struggling to break free of his partner's restraint while pointing at the informant, who was bent over the table in obvious pain.

The informant was a newspaper boss. In Sabine City and other cities, the primary channels for intelligence were controlled by professional intelligence-gathering organizations and newspaper bosses.

Newspaper boys would tell the newspaper bosses about anything unusual they discovered. That was another part of the work shared between newspaper bosses and newspaper boys.

They did not necessarily give the newspaper boys any compensation for it—no money, no rewards—yet the boys still obediently did so in exchange for meager favors.

Some clever investigators and agents had similar informants, and a newspaper boss did not serve only one buyer.

No one got into the intelligence trade for justice or morality. They did it for money; there was no need to pretend to be so noble.

There were people like Michael, but not many. Taking his anger out on an informant was a very foolish thing to do.

The newspaper boss's facial muscles twisted together after the chair had slammed into his back. Hatred flashed in his eyes, but it quickly became subdued.

Michael had something on him. He had previously raped a young girl, and something had happened afterward that Michael had happened to discover.

Michael had taken the girl away, while also keeping some evidence—such as a recording of his confession and a handwritten account of the crime bearing his fingerprints.

"I didn't lie. The kid working for me gave him nearly fifteen hundred sols in small change. I swear I didn't lie!" He defended himself, praying for this terrible ordeal to end sooner.

He seemed to have forgotten that there had once been a girl who had prayed just like this, yet had not received the outcome she hoped for.

Michael shoved his partner aside and walked to the table. Grabbing the newspaper boss by the hair, he punched him in the face. His partner stood to one side and did not stop him again.

As long as Michael did not use an object, he would not interfere too much. Bare fists could not beat someone to death, but objects could. He was only doing this to prevent accidents, not because he truly wanted to stop Michael from being violent.

Of course, even if someone did die, it was not as though it could not be handled. It would just be slightly more troublesome, requiring plenty of payoffs.

Sabine City was a small city. Whether it was the Bureau of Investigation, the Revenue Service, or the courts, everyone knew one another well. They would not sentence a government employee with a bright future to death over someone living on the fringes of the law.

There was a good chance he could even be acquitted in court. After all, a small accident during the pursuit of a fugitive was something people could accept.

One punch, two punches, three punches...

After several punches, when the newspaper boss's cheek had swollen badly and become somewhat misshapen, Michael finally lowered his fist.

He shook out his hands, picked up the glass of water on the table, and poured the cold water over the newspaper boss's head.

Water trickled down through his hair, instantly clearing his hazy mind. Then the intense pain, mingled with the numbness of partial loss of sensation, left him somewhat... at a loss.

It hurt terribly, but he had no idea exactly where it hurt.

"Arrange for one of your people to deliver five thousand sols in small change to him this afternoon. Then we'll catch him in the act!" Michael quickly came up with a plan. He turned to look at his partner, who gave a slight nod in agreement.

From a legal perspective, this sort of conduct, which could be considered entrapment, was itself illegal. Moreover, any actions by the suspect during the process and any evidence gathered would have no legal validity.

But this was a small city, and everyone knew each other. There was no need to make things unpleasant for one another over something that would never get out.

Sometimes, for investigators working on the front lines, manipulating the chain of evidence a little to ensure a criminal was convicted was perfectly normal. Everyone had long since grown used to it.

He yanked the newspaper boss's hair again, pulling it back and forcing him to raise his foolish face, one cheek swollen, to look at him. "Do you understand?"

The newspaper boss's evasive gaze eased much of the anger in Michael's heart, along with some emotion he could not name. He was still Michael—the Michael no one could "refuse"—not that man who had suddenly become timid and yielded ground.

"Yes... I understand..."

Michael released him. Water dripped from the wet hair onto his palm. He wiped his hand back and forth on the newspaper boss's clothes, then patted that swollen face. Amid the newspaper boss's scream, he left with a faintly satisfied smile.

The room returned to silence. The newspaper boss's gaze shifted from brief hatred, hostility, and madness, gradually becoming subdued once more.

He slowly rose to his feet, but the moment he straightened his back, a piercing pain forced him to hunch over again. He picked up his hat and pressed it onto his head, paused for a minute or two, then left the room.

Meanwhile, Lin Qi returned from the laundry to his temporary residence. The moment he saw the ransacked room, he chose to call the police.

Yes, call the police. He did not quietly pretend that nothing had happened, though he knew what had taken place here.

The police arrived quickly. After examining the scene, they immediately made their judgment. Combined with Lin Qi's claim that he had lost five hundred sols, it was clearly a burglary, and the amount was not small.

As for whether it could be solved, that depended on Lin Qi's luck. In the officer's words, no one knew who had entered, and there were no witnesses nearby. Unless the culprit committed another crime and was caught, it would be difficult to recover Lin Qi's losses.

That basically meant the case ended there.

Just as the police were preparing to leave, Lin Qi suddenly added another clue. "Officer..."

The policeman standing at the door, responsible for taking the report, shifted his attention away from his colleague and looked at Lin Qi. "Yes?"

"I just remembered that I also lost a gold ring. It was a gift I was planning to give my girlfriend. It was engraved with 'My beloved Catherine'..." He sighed regretfully. "I should have kept it on me!"

The policeman felt even more sympathy for the young man. He wrote down this small detail at the bottom of the report and comforted him. "That is a very important clue. If that guy tries to sell it soon, we may be able to find him."

"Is there anything else you'd like to add?"

Lin Qi shook his head. "No, that's all. Thank you for coming, sir!"

The policeman put away his pen, tucked the clipboard under his arm, and adjusted the brim of his hat. "Wait for our good news, young man!"