Meanwhile, in a certain autopsy room.
The cold, shadowless lamp cast a ghastly white halo, baking the stench of blood on the autopsy table until it became cloying.
Lin Bowen adjusted the gold-rimmed glasses on his nose, his forceps probing the abdominal cavity of the humanoid corpse.
As the metal instrument stirred, the charred flesh emitted a faint, crisp crackle.
Standing beside him, Lei Zheng frowned deeply, his gaze fixed on the corpse of the low-level Xeno, which resembled a mutated mantis.
The air was thick with a strange odor, a mixture of formalin and burnt meat.
“The fatal wound was indeed the penetrating injury to the head.”
Lin Bowen released the forceps, his gloves now coated with a layer of carbonized black powder.
He pointed to the Xeno’s nearly severed abdomen, his voice echoing in the spacious autopsy room.
“But this abdominal wound is very interesting.
Even without the headshot, this thing wouldn’t have survived more than three minutes with the organ damage from this incision alone.”
Hearing this, Lei Zheng’s gaze fell upon the horrifying gash that ran across the Xeno’s abdomen.
“Falcon Squad’s field report mentioned burns, but no signs of an explosion were found.”
Lei Zheng spoke gravely, his fingers subconsciously rubbing the holster at his waist as his gaze turned solemn.
“I’ve seen the crime scene photos.
There was no blood around the incision; it was all instantly cauterized by extreme heat.
This is typical damage caused by an ‘Energy-type’ or ‘Elemental-type’ ability.”
“Exactly, but that’s what makes it so illogical.”
Lin Bowen nodded, a fervent curiosity flashing in his eyes.
He picked up a metal probe and gently traced the charred edge of the wound.
“If it were a common ‘Fire’ or ‘Lightning’ ability, the wound would typically be explosive or show widespread scorching.
But look here…”
Lin Bowen looked up at Lei Zheng, a cold glint reflecting off his glasses.
“The cut surface is smooth and clean, with almost no energy leakage.
This means the attacker didn’t use dispersed flames, but rather some kind of highly compressed, even solidified, high-temperature energy structure.”
“You mean…
a Conjuration-type?” Lei Zheng’s voice held a hint of surprise.
“Not just Conjuration, but one with extreme heat.”
Lin Bowen’s voice rose slightly, as if he had discovered a new research topic.
“Officer Lei, the ‘Conjuration-type’ ability users on record in our bureau can mostly only create hard, room-temperature objects, or high-temperature but unstable energy spheres.
To forcibly compress thousands of degrees of heat into the shape of a ‘sword’ and maintain that extreme cutting hardness…”
Lei Zheng fell silent.
As an official, he knew exactly what this implied.
“That level of control…
it’s at least B-rank…
no, possibly even approaching A-rank Special Ability.”
Lei Zheng’s voice was a little hoarse.
“If it’s a wild Awakened, that’s one thing.
But if it’s an ability user from another dangerous organization…”
“Then we’re in big trouble,” Lin Bowen interjected.
“A normal special police unit couldn’t stop that level of destructive power.
And judging by the clean cut, the attacker’s physical combat skills are also astonishing.”
Lin Bowen paused, his gaze sharpening.
“This wasn’t a simple act of violent rage.
This was a precise, surgical-style killing.
Even among our bureau’s Ace Squads, few could pull this off.”
Just as Lei Zheng was about to speak, the heavy metal door of the autopsy room was suddenly pushed open.
A dull thud interrupted their speculation.
A soldier strode in, his military boots clacking rapidly on the tiled floor.
He snapped to attention and saluted, his chest heaving, clearly having run all the way here.
“Dr.
Lin, Officer Lei!”
The soldier’s voice was filled with suppressed urgency.
“The surveillance footage has been retrieved.
We captured a suspicious target on the alleyway camera, and the System’s cross-reference shows…
the target is not in the Awakened Database!”
Lei Zheng spun around abruptly, the gloom in his eyes instantly dissipating, replaced by the sharp glint of a hunter spotting its prey.
“Let’s go.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, he walked past the soldier and headed out.
At the doorway, Lei Zheng paused and glanced back at Lin Bowen.
“Dr.
Lin, I’ll have to trouble you to continue digging into the corpse.
See if you can analyze the residual energy fluctuations to determine the target’s specific attribute affinity.”
“I’ll do my best.” This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
Lin Bowen waved his hand, his gaze already returning to the microscope.
Watching Lei Zheng’s back disappear through the doorway, Lin Bowen sighed with a hint of helplessness.
He picked up the scalpel again, its tip hovering over the Xeno’s charred wound.
“Unmatched sharpness, scorching heat, and such stable energy form…”
Lin Bowen muttered to himself, his eyes narrowing slightly behind his lenses.
“Truly…
godlike control.”
In the surveillance room, dozens of screens cast an eerie blue glow, and the hum of the fans seemed unusually loud.
Lei Zheng strode into the room, bringing a gust of cold air with him.
His murderous aura made the already busy operators stiffen.
“Bring up the footage.”
He pulled out a chair and sat down, leaning forward with his hands on the console, his gaze as sharp as a hawk’s.
The operator didn’t dare delay, his fingers flying across the keyboard.
The main screen flickered, then displayed the surveillance footage from the dim alleyway.
The progress bar was dragged back to the beginning.
On the screen, a tall, straight-backed young man slowly walked into frame.
His white hair was strikingly conspicuous under the dim streetlights, clashing with the filthy surroundings.
Lei Zheng held his breath, his eyes locked on the screen.
The young man walked with unhurried steps, as if he weren’t entering a dark, dead-end alley but inspecting his own domain.
Just a few minutes passed.
The young man reappeared on screen, still with the same leisurely stroll.
His white robe wasn’t even stained with a speck of dust, making it hard to believe he had just instantly slain a Xeno inside.
Then, the screen froze on the moment the young man exited the alley, his young yet indifferent face clearly visible.
“Officer.”
The operator swallowed nervously, pointing at the timeline on the screen.
“We’ve checked all surveillance footage from the alley entrance for an hour before and after.
He was the only one who went in or out.”
“And based on the timeline, the moment he entered the alley perfectly matches the time of the Xeno’s death.”
Lei Zheng nodded, his finger tapping heavily on the clear face on the screen.
“To not even cover his face at a time like this…
Is he overconfident, or does he simply not take us seriously?”
He turned to the technical supervisor beside him, speaking rapidly:
“The report just now said he’s not in the ‘Awakened Archives,’ right?”
“That’s correct, Officer.
The initial comparison yielded zero results,” the technician said, wiping away sweat.
“Then expand the search.”
Lei Zheng’s eyes narrowed, radiating an unquestionable authority.
“If he’s not a registered Special Ability user, then search the citizen database.
Xinhai City’s permanent residents, transient population, even tourist visa records from the last three years…
If he’s ever bought a ticket or stayed in a hotel in this city, there will be a trace.”
“Understood!
Full database search is running now!”
On the right side of the screen, the search box began scrolling frantically, countless citizen photos flashing by rapidly in the background.
Lei Zheng crossed his arms, his fingers rhythmically tapping his arm.
One second, two seconds, ten seconds…
As time passed, the frequency of Lei Zheng’s tapping grew faster.
Since he possessed such immense power and wasn’t affiliated with the government, he was likely a hidden master from the civilian world or a member of some underground organization.
But regardless of which, he should still have a legal cover identity.
However…
The scrolling photos suddenly stopped.
A bright red pop-up window abruptly appeared, dominating the center of the screen.
[NO MATCH FOUND]
The red text felt like a silent mockery, instantly stinging Lei Zheng’s eyes.
“What’s going on?”
Lei Zheng shot to his feet, his chair scraping harshly against the floor.
The technician turned around, his face pale as a sheet, as if he’d seen a ghost.
“Officer…
whether it’s the Xinhai City local database or the national household registration system…”
The technician’s voice grew quieter, trembling with disbelief.
“We’ve compared them all.
This person doesn’t exist.” Find the original chapter at g.com.
“What?”
Lei Zheng’s brow furrowed tightly as he strode around the desk to the computer.
He snatched the mouse, personally clicked refresh, and switched between several database interfaces.
Still those same cold words: No Match Found.
On the surveillance footage, the white-haired young man’s lips seemed to curve into a faint, almost imperceptible smile, as if he were silently watching this group of frantic hunters through the screen.
Lei Zheng stared at the face, a chill creeping up his spine.
“Not a registered Awakened, and not even…
a legal citizen?”
Lei Zheng released the mouse, straightened up, and began pacing back and forth in the narrow aisle, the thud of his military boots echoing in the deathly silent monitoring room.
“An illegal immigrant?
Impossible.
Even if he’s undocumented, if he’s lived in this city, he couldn’t have left no trace.
Supermarket purchases, transportation, online activity…
the current Skynet System couldn’t miss a living person.”
He stopped, took a deep breath, and forcibly suppressed his growing frustration.
This wasn’t just about a rogue powerhouse anymore; it was like a ghost had materialized out of thin air.
“Set aside the identity issue for now.
Report the situation to superiors and raise the threat level by one.”
Lei Zheng turned back to the screen, his gaze turning fierce.
Since they couldn’t find his past, they would find his present!
“If we can’t trace his origin, we’ll trace his destination!
Pull up all surrounding surveillance footage.
I want to know where he went after leaving that alley!”
“Yes, sir!”
The entire monitoring room instantly erupted into activity.
The clatter of keyboards rose and fell as dozens of split screens began frantically switching feeds.
However, as time ticked by, the initial high-energy atmosphere gradually cooled.
On all the screens, aside from empty streets, there was no sign of the white-haired young man.
It was as if a drop of water had merged into the sea, vanishing completely.
“This…
how is this possible?”
One of the staff members finally broke, his voice trembling slightly.
“None of the intersection cameras caught him?
Can he fly?”
“Could he have deliberately avoided the surveillance blind spots?”
Another employee pointed to the blind spots on the map, his tone hesitant.
“The old district here does have quite a few surveillance blind spots.”
“But that doesn’t make sense,”
the first speaker retorted, his voice agitated.
“If he knew the camera locations, why would he brazenly show his face at the alley entrance?
Isn’t that a contradiction?”
“Maybe he didn’t know there was a camera at the alley entrance?”
“Do you think this is a movie?
How could he miss such an obvious camera?”
The arguments grew louder, turning the once orderly monitoring room into a chaotic mess.
“Enough!”
A furious roar exploded like a thunderclap.
Lei Zheng slammed his hand on the table, the alloy surface ringing with a loud bang.
The arguing stopped abruptly.
Everyone looked at Lei Zheng in terror, like strangled ducks.
Lei Zheng’s face was ashen, his chest heaving violently.
He scanned his subordinates, who were staring at each other in dismay, his gaze chillingly cold.
“Do I pay you to argue?”
Lei Zheng gritted out, enunciating each word.
“Since you can’t find his trail, change your approach!”
He pointed at the frozen face on the screen, his finger nearly piercing the display.
“Stop wasting time on useless nonsense!
Instead of this, go analyze this face frame by frame for any signs of disguise!”
With that, Lei Zheng snatched the hat from the table and jammed it on his head.
He didn’t want to hear any more pointless arguments and strode out of the room.
The heavy security door slammed shut behind him, shaking dust from the walls.
He left behind a room full of staff, silent as cicadas in winter, staring blankly at the mysterious smiling face.