Chapter 42: A Frenzy of Activity

The short video mechanism of Kuaiyin caused this video to spread like wildfire. Within just a few hours, the clip of Gao Wu slaying the cultist had been shared hundreds of thousands of times. Countless streamers and content creators had re-edited the footage into all sorts of snippets.

Beneath the video, millions of comments poured in—most questioning the Public Security Bureau, with a few outright condemning them for abusing their power.

It was a core psychological trait of human society: sympathy for the weak. Given the Public Security Bureau’s already poor reputation, people seized this opportunity to vent their accumulated grievances.

As more and more viewers flocked to the video, its reach quickly spread across all major online platforms. The massive surge in traffic naturally diverted some of the attention to Gao Wu’s personal account; within just a few hours, his follower count soared to two million.

At times like this, many came forward to try to capitalize on Gao Wu’s fame—so-called classmates, neighbors, distant relatives, all suddenly eager to claim a share of the spotlight.

Far away in Anjing, Shang Qingjun also saw the video, which only deepened her worry. After all, a life had been lost—no matter how compelling the justification, such an event was always a tremendous ordeal.

Fortunately, the presence of video evidence would at least prove Gao Wu had acted in self-defense. With public opinion so overwhelmingly in his favor, he should receive fair treatment.

Her beautiful roommate was still glued to the video, watching it again and again. Grabbing Shang Qingjun’s arm, her face aglow with excitement, she exclaimed, “Our little brother’s sword strike was just amazing!”

Shang Qingjun was at her wit’s end. This girl’s way of thinking was truly baffling! She herself was frazzled with worry and had no patience for idle chatter.

“I’m going back to Dongjiang,” she said.

“What’s the point in that?” Her roommate shook her head. “You’re not a lawyer and have no connections. Going back would only make you anxious and accomplish nothing.

“You’re usually so smart—how come you’re being so muddle-headed now? The fact that this video is circulating freely proves that someone powerful is working behind the scenes for our little brother.”

Her roommate looked puzzled, then said, “With that kind of influence, they could just demand his release from the Bureau directly. Why bother with all this online drama? Maybe they have a grudge against the Public Security Bureau and want to embarrass them…”

Then she grasped Shang Qingjun’s hand and said earnestly, “He’ll be out in two days, I promise! Don’t go back and make things harder.”

Shang Qingjun fell silent. Her roommate’s analysis made perfect sense…

Meanwhile, the Dongjiang Public Security Bureau realized things were spiraling out of control. They contacted the platform and requested traffic restrictions on the video, but with little effect.

By the time Han Juan got wind of the situation, the video had already exploded online.

Han Juan disliked Kuaiyin and all those interactive online platforms—she felt the waves of attention they gathered were poorly managed, and that ordinary people were foolish and easily manipulated. The content of these platforms was crude and lowbrow, designed to dupe simpletons. Yet, the masses ate it up.

“Ma’am, what should we do now?” a female officer asked nervously.

Public opinion was now squarely aimed at the Dongshan Public Security Bureau, and she was visibly unsettled. If things really got out of hand, everyone from top to bottom could be in trouble.

---

“What are you afraid of?” Han Juan sneered. “He’s supposed to be some reincarnated saint—just a teenager who spends all his time helping pensioners at the nursing home. Do you buy that?”

The officer shook her head hastily.

“Even if he were a saint, we’re following the law—there’s nothing to fear!” Han Juan was clearly displeased with her subordinates’ timidity. They were security officers, and investigating cases was their legal duty.

She bore no personal grudge against Gao Wu and had no particular desire to make things difficult for him, but she would not tolerate being pressured by public opinion.

Videos could be forged, testimony could be fabricated. If a suspect could be exonerated just by producing a video, that would be a farce!

She was a Level Three Inspector—having her case dictated by a mob of internet rabble would be an even greater joke.

Not even twelve hours had passed since Gao Wu’s arrest, yet multiple people had already pleaded for him and stirred up a storm online—did they have no respect for the law?

A person had died—should they just release him before getting to the bottom of it? And if there was a problem, who would take responsibility? Those keyboard warriors on the internet?

So far, everything had followed the correct procedures—there hadn’t been a single irregular step.

Han Juan instructed her subordinates, “Tell Cybersecurity to speed up and verify the authenticity of the video…”

She then went to the solitary holding room. Through the bars, she saw Gao Wu practicing the Nine Forms of the Dragon.

The Nine Forms of the Dragon were widely taught; many people practiced them. Han Juan herself knew them, and she could see every move of Gao Wu’s was precise—slow but fluid, like a spring flowing effortlessly down a mountainside.

With his long limbs and well-proportioned muscles, even the loose blue-and-white school uniform looked elegant on him. His features were striking and full of spirit; not conventionally handsome, but memorable and unmistakable.

Han Juan thought to herself, no wonder so many people were speaking up for him. In this digital age, Gao Wu’s looks alone were enough to make him a viral star.

Noticing her, Gao Wu nevertheless continued to finish his routine. Only after the last movement, as he exhaled deeply, did he turn and greet her with a smile. “Hello, Sister Han.”

“Don’t get too pleased with yourself. Online opinion is a double-edged sword—it’s not a weapon you can control,” Han Juan said coldly.

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean, Sister Han,” Gao Wu replied, all innocence. His phone had been confiscated, and he had no contact with the outside world, so he had no idea what was happening beyond these walls.

Still, he could guess that Song Mingyue had posted the video online to rally support for him. Only someone with her status and background could have gotten the footage out. With his memories from a previous life, Gao Wu was far from naive—he knew that stirring up public opinion alone would not be enough to save him.

The authorities were powerful and would not easily bow to public pressure. But with so many eyes on this case, at least the inspector wouldn’t dare try anything underhanded. That was already enough for him.

Han Juan saw how calm he remained and couldn’t help but feel a little helpless. The boy’s composure was remarkable. Softening her expression, she said as sincerely as she could, “I’m not trying to make things difficult for you. As long as you cooperate, I promise I’ll help clear your name and get you back to school as soon as possible.”

“Sister Han, I am cooperating—I even gave you the video,” Gao Wu replied earnestly.

“Then answer me this: why would Zhang Hao target you when he had no grudge against you?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Gao Wu shook his head. He couldn’t figure out why Zhang Hao wanted to kill him; was it jealousy?

---

Running into a madman like that, he couldn’t help feeling unlucky.

Han Juan said patiently, “I know you must feel wronged. But as a law enforcement officer, I can’t just take your word for it.

“When Zhang Hao’s family comes demanding answers, what do I tell them? Why should I conclude he was a cultist? Just because there was a body in his house? What if someone planted it there?”

Gao Wu met her gaze, his eyes clear and innocent.

Han Juan shook her head—she had no interest in pressing further. Gao Wu insisted he had nothing to do with the incident, and she couldn’t just force the truth out of him; that would make her responsible if things went wrong.

There were still the Tie Dalong family and the victim’s relatives and friends—surely some evidence could be uncovered.

As Han Juan left, Gao Wu’s gaze drifted to the Boundless Book of Merit before him. In just a few hours, his merit had shot up by over thirty thousand, bringing the total to a hundred and thirty thousand.

Clearly, his personal account had drawn a massive influx of attention. That rescue video had earned him a surge of merit—perhaps the video of slaying Zhang Hao would as well?

With such a huge amount, Gao Wu could hardly tell where it all came from.

There was no need to dwell on the details now; one hundred and thirty thousand merit points were more than enough to let him upgrade the Azure Dragon Divine Qi Incantation.

But every corner of the holding cell was monitored—he didn’t dare perform the upgrade here. If anything unusual happened, it would surely invite trouble.

A comprehensive enhancement of his body’s basic attributes meant his fundamental energy consumption would rise.

That night, he’d only eaten a steamed bun and a bowl of porridge; after practicing the Nine Forms of the Dragon, all that food was already burnt off.

Without enough energy, further training would only deplete his body’s reserves and harm him.

Lying on the hard, narrow cot, Gao Wu silently recited the Azure Dragon Divine Qi Incantation fifty times, finally curling up in a “Hidden Dragon” posture to sleep.

He had no idea how long he slept before being jolted awake by the cold. Slowly opening his eyes, he saw the harsh glow of lights filtering through the corridor outside.

There were no windows, so he couldn’t tell the time of day. The room was silent, no sound from anywhere. Gao Wu guessed it must be around two or three in the morning—the coldest hour of the day.

There was no blanket on the bed, not even a sheet—just a hard plastic cot.

Worse, having eaten so little, hunger gnawed at him, his stomach pressed against his spine.

Gao Wu sighed. A holding cell was no hotel; it wasn’t designed for comfort. Unable to sleep, he could only open the Boundless Book of Merit again.

The blank pages were now densely covered with +1s, the marks filling every inch.

His merit had surpassed one hundred and eighty thousand.

While excited, Gao Wu was also bewildered. Could killing a cultist of the Dark God really be this effective?