Chapter Thirty-Nine: The Whims of Fate

Seeing Han Juan’s stern attitude, Gao Wu realized she had no intention of letting him off easily. Whether she was acting out of professionalism or personal motives, there was little he could say to her. The old man and Song Mingyue clearly understood the way the Security Bureau operated, which was why they kept advising him to stay silent.

Gao Wu simply closed his mouth and said nothing more.

"You’re young, but stubborn. If you go against the law, there’s nothing good waiting for you," Han Juan said, but Gao Wu remained unresponsive, which only irritated her further. She slammed the file shut and strode out, leaving Gao Wu unconcerned, his attention focused on the Boundless Book of Merit.

At some point, his accumulated merit had reached ninety thousand!

Flipping through the blank pages of the Boundless Book of Merit, he could see three consecutive entries, each over nine thousand merit. He guessed these were from killing Zhang Hao.

He was surprised by this; usually, accumulating merit required public recognition, but killing Zhang Hao had somehow netted him nearly thirty thousand merit.

He’d never encountered this before, and couldn’t figure out the logic behind it.

Gaining such a large amount of merit was, of course, a good thing, but it did nothing to solve his current predicament, and Gao Wu couldn’t muster any joy.

With nothing else to do, he studied the Boundless Book of Merit.

Over ninety thousand merit—just another ten thousand and he could upgrade the Azure Dragon Divine Qi Incantation. Who knew what changes that might bring?

Another thought occurred to him: if Zhang Hao was worth thirty thousand merit, would killing more cultists net him similar rewards?

According to the Alliance’s laws, anyone who worshipped the Demonic God was stripped of all citizenship and basic rights. In other words, once someone was confirmed as a cultist, killing them wasn’t a crime.

This meant he now had a stable source of merit income in the future.

Gao Wu let his thoughts wander for a while, and soon his stomach began to growl. Having undergone continuous injections, his body was in a state of transformation and required considerable nutrition daily. He hadn’t eaten that morning; it was nearly noon, and the lack of energy was making him dizzy.

He regretted not having a proper meal before calling the police—who knew when he’d be released? If he died of hypoglycemia in here, it would be a ridiculous way to go.

Meanwhile, Han Juan was in the office, shouting at a middle-aged man, "Absolutely not! Gao Wu is suspected of intentional homicide; it’s a complicated case and bail is out of the question."

The man wore a high-collared black Tang suit over a white shirt and frameless glasses, giving him the appearance of a refined elite.

He frowned slightly. "May I meet the defendant?"

"No," Han Juan’s tone was exceptionally firm, even stern.

"I understand. Thank you, Officer Han," the man replied, not arguing further. He nodded politely and left the office.

Outside the Inspection Bureau, he called Song Mingyue. "Sorry, Miss Song, the Bureau is being unusually tough. This is going to be tricky."

"How tricky?" Song Mingyue asked.

"It’ll be very hard for him to get out," the man replied.

As a prominent lawyer in Dongjiang, Yang Hongye had certain official channels he could use, but he knew Han Juan was from the Han family and her attitude was uncompromising. He had no intention of confronting her directly.

Just showing up was enough to honor Song Mingyue. Lü Hongsheng and the others valued Gao Wu, but that was their concern, not his.

Judging by Song Mingyue’s demeanor, it seemed she intended to fight hard for Gao Wu, which he thought was a good thing.

Yang Hongye added, "The case is being handled by someone from the Han family—they’re taking it very seriously."

"Thank you, Lawyer Yang. I appreciate your effort," Song Mingyue replied. She knew Yang’s influence; if he said it was impossible, either the problem was genuinely serious or he simply didn’t want to get involved. She suspected the latter.

This lawyer was a connection her mother had left behind; relationships cool over time. His willingness to show up was already a favor.

Song Mingyue ended the call, tapped her tablet, and replayed the video Gao Wu had sent.

The drone footage was somewhat blurry, with noisy visuals and poor audio, mostly wind rushing past the microphone.

The benefit was the wide aerial perspective, clearly capturing Gao Wu and Zhang Hao, especially their fight.

The camera on Gao Wu’s chest provided a first-person view, recording Zhang Hao’s face and words in sharp detail.

Combining the two videos gave a precise reconstruction of the scene.

At the end, the drone locked onto Gao Wu’s face. There was no fear or anxiety on his young, heroic features; instead, his dark eyes shone with a fierce vitality.

Every time Song Mingyue watched this part, she marveled at Gao Wu’s psychological fortitude.

For someone experiencing such brutal combat for the first time, his adaptability—and even excitement—was remarkable.

Of course, she couldn’t send the video as-is; it needed editing.

She was busy with school, martial arts, music, art, and foreign languages, so she knew little about video editing. Fortunately, online tutorials were abundant and accessible. After watching a couple, she quickly picked up the basics.

She downloaded a random editing app and spent two hours cutting the footage as she wanted.

She deleted all shots of Gao Wu’s determined expression at the end, letting the video conclude with the death of the man in black.

The result was rough, but sufficient.

Song Mingyue knew Gao Wu’s family included the old man and understood his background. She patiently waited for Shang Hongyi—if the old man could get Gao Wu out, there’d be no need to use the internet.

At that moment, Grandpa Shang Hongyi was waiting in the Security Bureau’s east wing, only allowed to wait in the corridor as a family member.

Han Juan’s shrill, irritable voice rang out from the office, so loud that the old man could hear her cursing through the door.

Shang Hongyi frowned; he didn’t mind women being loud, but Han Juan’s tough stance meant the situation was difficult. He’d called for Lei Zhen, the Deputy Director of the Supervisory Office, but doubted even he could suppress Han Juan.

The real issue was that the two departments operated independently. Ordinary security cases were managed by the Security Bureau, and even those involving cultists were within their jurisdiction.

The Supervisory Office specialized in extraordinary beasts and cultists. Normally, the Security Bureau would transfer relevant cases, but the two sides had different priorities, inevitably leading to friction.

After a while, Lei Zhen emerged from the office, his broad, dark face showing frustration. "That woman’s intractable. Sorry, Old Shang, we can’t get him released right now."

Lei Zhen, in his fifties with a receding hairline and a large nose, was a heavy drinker, which gave his nose and cheeks a reddish tinge. He looked like an ordinary, grumpy old man.

But his broad shoulders and thick build, over six feet tall and clad in a sharp black uniform, gave him an imposing presence.

Shang Hongyi asked, "Can I see Gao Wu?"

"No," Lei Zhen sighed. "This involves multiple deaths—it’s a major case."

He hesitated, "I haven’t seen the video you mentioned. Without evidence, I can’t intervene."

Lei Zhen tried to reassure him. "Don’t worry, Old Shang, she’s not deliberately making things hard for Gao Wu—it’s standard procedure. In a case involving deaths, everything must be thoroughly investigated before anyone can be released. If I were in charge, I’d do the same."

Major homicide cases required caution, but Han Juan’s hardline approach and refusal to give any information were frustrating.

Shang Hongyi understood, never expecting to retrieve Gao Wu easily. But not being able to see him or learn any details left him uneasy.

The old man sighed, "Thank you for your trouble."

Lei Zhen waved it off, "No need for thanks."

He sympathized with Shang Hongyi’s helplessness; his grandson was caught up in a murder investigation, and the old man could do nothing—a heavy blow.

He assured Shang Hongyi, "Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on things and won’t let her get out of line. Once Zhang Hao’s identity as a cultist is confirmed, I’ll have the authority to intervene. As long as Gao Wu is innocent, he’ll be fine."

At two o’clock in the afternoon, Shang Hongyi left the Security Bureau. The cold wind seemed to penetrate his bones, making him stiff and his hands tremble.

His heart was bleak—having lost a son in his old age, and now facing another calamity, with no way to help.

Suddenly, his phone rang. He glanced at an unfamiliar number; normally he’d ignore it, with all the spam and scams these days, but under the circumstances, he couldn’t afford to miss a call.

"Hello, is this Grandpa Shang?" a girl’s cool voice came through, "I’m Song Mingyue, Gao Wu’s friend."

"Oh, I know you. Xiao Wu has mentioned you," Shang Hongyi replied. Gao Wu had spoken of Song Mingyue several times, with obvious affection; their relationship was clearly special.

"Grandpa Shang, what’s Gao Wu’s situation?"

"It’s a bit troublesome," he answered, not knowing Song Mingyue well enough to say more. He added, "I’ll try to get him out. Don’t worry."

"Alright, goodbye, Grandpa Shang," Song Mingyue replied politely, ending the call as soon as she got the information.

She looked at the video on her tablet, paused for a moment, then uploaded it without hesitation. The case was being handled by the Han family—her stepmother’s family—so there was no point in negotiating.