Li Qingchi’s brows were tightly furrowed. The suspect’s mental state was on the verge of collapse. Though the information just revealed was chaotic, its implications were dangerously pointed.
Sample activation, first-wave responders, target… These terms strung together unquestionably pointed to an enormous plan.
Wen Zhiyu’s ordeal was no coincidence, was it a critical piece of this plan? Had he himself been dragged into it as well? Li Qingchi reasoned inwardly.
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. He partially withdrew his pheromone suppression.
The door swung open. Li Siyu’s perpetually flippant face was now grim. He didn’t glance at the suspect, his gaze fixed squarely on Li Qingchi as he spoke rapidly:
“I just checked, the Pharmaceutical Bureau was a dead end. All relevant records and any residual drug samples have been wiped clean, as if they never existed. Also, higher-ups just sent word: we’re to hand over the suspect immediately, with the interrogation to be taken over by others.”
He let out a derisive snort as his response to the order: “They’re certainly in a hurry.”
Handing over a suspect at the critical juncture of an interrogation, the War Chain Department had never issued such an order before.
“Who gave the order?” Li Qingchi pressed. “This procedure doesn’t comply with regulations.”
Li Siyu shrugged helplessly: “No specific name attached. Just said it was a notification from above.”
Earlier, Li Qingchi had suspected how a Pharmaceutical Bureau director could possibly orchestrate something on this scale. Now it was clear, there was someone behind him, and that group was getting restless. The so-called transfer was merely a convenient excuse to move the suspect.
“Lock him in the deep confinement cell, solitary, with maximum-level alert. No one is to have contact without my order.” Li Qingchi commanded, his tone calm and brooking no dissent. “Also notify the medical team to administer a strong sedative and nutrients. Keep him alive, don’t let him go mad or die. His mind is more important than anything right now.”
“You’re not handing him over?” Li Siyu frowned.
Li Qingchi: “Without a formal order on record, I won’t.”
With that, he didn’t look back, striding out of the interrogation room. The elevator ascended to the conference floor.
The conference room door was sealed shut. He pushed it open without hesitation, his sudden entrance interrupting the meeting. Several high-ranking War Chain Department officials sat around the long table, their discussion clearly concerning the sudden infection incident from the previous night.
Li Qingchi’s gaze swept across the room before settling on the empty seat beside the head position, the seat of his father, Ji Minghe, also the Deputy Commander-in-Chief of the War Chain Department.
“Apologies for the interruption.” Li Qingchi spoke, utterly composed. “But I imagine you’re discussing precisely the order regarding the transfer of my suspect?”
His gaze landed directly on Chief of Staff Zhao, who handled internal coordination: “Chief of Staff Zhao, I just received a verbal notice demanding I immediately transfer the suspect, but it bears no signature. Unsigned, non-compliant. I’d like to know, who exactly is this ‘higher-up’? Who has the authority to bypass me and issue such an order on an ongoing core interrogation that could destroy critical leads?”
At his words, several officials exchanged complicated glances. Finally, Chief of Staff Zhao coughed, his face marked with reluctance and helplessness. He instinctively glanced at the empty chair beside the head position before quickly averting his eyes.
“Qingchi.” Chief of Staff Zhao’s tone carried a placating note. “This order… it does come from above. The procedure may have been hasty, but-”
“Which superior?” Li Qingchi cut him off without ceremony, his tone polite but relentless. “Military orders are ironclad, there should be a clear source. The Commander-in-Chief? Or…” His gaze swept toward the empty seat again, the implication unmistakable.
Chief of Staff Zhao opened his mouth, seemingly struggling to find the words.
Just then, a low, oppressive voice came from the conference room doorway: “It was my order.”
Everyone, including Li Qingchi, turned toward the sound.
Ji Minghe, Li Qingchi’s father, entered the conference room in a crisp military uniform. His expression was calm, carrying an air of refined elegance, yet wrapped in a heavy sense of pressure.
He walked directly to the empty seat beside the head position and sat down with unhurried composure. Two adjutants followed behind him, taking positions at either side.
Li Qingchi looked at him: “Father.” His tone was indifferent, devoid of any emotion.
Ji Minghe gave a slight nod in acknowledgment. He met Li Qingchi’s gaze directly and cut to the chase: “Qingchi, that suspect, transfer him immediately. Special Services Division Three will take over the subsequent interrogation.”
A direct order, with no explanation given.
Li Qingchi forcibly suppressed the fluctuation of his pheromones: “Reason? My interrogation is in progress. The suspect just revealed critical information. Transferring him now would sever every lead.”
Ji Minghe remained utterly unruffled. “The reason is simple, this case has too many ramifications and has already exceeded your jurisdiction. Director of the Pharmaceutical Bureau Feng Zhengguo has formally filed a complaint, questioning your abuse of power in illegally detaining his son and subjecting him to improper interrogation tactics. The pressure from public opinion and administrative channels is immense. To avoid any appearance of bias and to ensure a more comprehensive and steady investigation, the transfer is a necessary procedure.”
“Bias?” Li Qingchi demanded. “Avoiding bias toward whom? Because the suspect implicated his father, or because I uncovered something I shouldn’t have?”
The conference room fell so silent that even the sound of breathing was clearly audible, laden with suffocating pressure.
Ji Minghe frowned slightly, a hint of sternness creeping into his otherwise mild tone. “Watch your wording. This is a discussion of official business. The duty of War Chain Department personnel is to obey orders, not to question the decisions of their superiors. After the case is transferred, the Special Services Division Three will continue to follow up, their professional competence is beyond question. What you need to do now is organize all existing materials, including your interrogation records, and hand them over.”
He paused, leaning forward slightly, deliberately lowering his voice as he addressed Li Qingchi. His tone was slow, yet carried warning and coercion: “This ends here. Don’t get involved any further, Qingchi. I won’t do you harm.”
On the surface, it was a father’s protection of his son, but the real reason was known only to himself.
“Ends here?” Li Qingchi found it absurd. “Just before I walked into this conference room, the suspect personally admitted that those betas’ seduction agents were artificially injected, and he also mentioned the follow-up plan. Over twenty lives, and an unknown virus, and you’re telling me to let it end here?”
Ji Minghe’s expression remained gentle, but his gaze was strange, like a hunter regarding prey it had captured, utterly devoid of resistance. “Qingchi, I’ll say it again: obey orders, transfer the suspect, and cease all your private investigations. This is a military command. The leads you’ve uncovered are of dubious authenticity, more likely the ravings of a criminal on the verge of mental collapse. The War Chain Department has its own procedures and judgment. It doesn’t need your personal heroism.”
He rose to his feet, looking at Li Qingchi with an unyielding tone: “Remember who you are. Don’t disappoint me, and don’t drag the entire Li family into unnecessary trouble because of your stubbornness.”
With that, he stopped looking at Li Qingchi and turned to Chief of Staff Zhao: “Chief of Staff Zhao, you will oversee the transfer process. It must be completed by 3PM today. Meeting adjourned.”
Ji Minghe turned and left the conference room with his adjutant.
Li Qingchi remained where he stood, unmoving. After a few seconds of silence, he turned and left the suffocating room as well, his military boots striking the floor with crisp echoes.
This was the first time Ji Minghe had so forcefully obstructed the advancement of an interrogation. Whether it was to mitigate risk or because he himself was connected to the matter, only he knew.
Ends here?
The suspect could be transferred, but the leads would never be severed. As for the “they” behind the scenes, he would root them out one by one.
Li Qingchi took out his phone and dialed Li Siyu, who answered instantly.
“Meeting’s over?” Li Siyu asked.
“Over.” Li Qingchi relayed the order. “The suspect’s transfer can’t be stopped. Follow orders on your end.”
“Just handing him over like that? That’s not your style.” Li Siyu chuckled, his tone light.
Li Qingchi: “Before the transfer, activate Bluebird clearance and inject the suspect with a memory anchor.”
Li Siyu drew in a sharp breath. “Are you sure?”
Bluebird was the highest-level operational clearance for their action team, and the memory anchor was a highly restricted psychoactive agent.
It could forcibly stabilize specific memory segments in a subject’s brain over a short period, ensuring that those memories had a high probability of remaining clear even under subsequent mental interference or drug influence.
But the side effects were severe, it could cause irreversible damage to the subject’s brain.
“First time I’ve seen you like this.” Li Siyu let out a faint chuckle, then his tone shifted to rational analysis. “But the risk is too high, and the duration is very short, only twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”
Li Qingchi’s tone was calm and resolute: “I know the risks. But this is the only way to preserve the key leads once he’s out of our sight. The details he just revealed are the anchor’s target. So move fast.”
“…Understood.” Li Siyu was silent for a moment before finally agreeing.
“Also.” Li Qingchi continued, his tone equally cold. “Keep a tight watch on the Pharmaceutical Bureau Director’s movements.”
“Received, sir.” Li Siyu reverted to his usual flippant tone.
He knew well that whatever Li Qingchi decided was the product of deep deliberation and careful consideration of all factors. All he had to do was follow behind him.
The call ended, and Li Qingchi turned his gaze toward the window. He knew very well that once a suspect slipped out of his control and fell into the hands of Special Services Division Three, there were only two possible outcomes: either an accidental death, or a complete mental breakdown.
So using a memory anchor was the best choice.
He was fully aware that the situation was dangerous right now, countless eyes were watching him from the shadows, so he couldn’t afford even the slightest mistake.
On the third underground level of the War Chain Department, the corridor outside the detention cell was thick with tension. Special Services Division Three’s people had already arrived, led by a middle-aged military officer with a hard, unyielding face and sharp, piercing eyes. Several special agents followed behind him, all wearing grim expressions.
Li Siyu stood guard at the door with two of his team members, his expression less than pleased.
“Time’s up. Hand him over.” The middle-aged officer’s tone was rigid, businesslike, as he extended the paperwork.
Li Siyu took it, glanced over the transfer order and the Deputy Chief’s signature stamp, and his brow lifted slightly.
He turned back, peering through the transparent glass set into the metal door to observe the suspect. The suspect sat in the corner, so calm it looked almost unnatural.
Just a few minutes earlier, he had personally injected the suspect with a memory anchor disguised as a potent sedative. At this very moment, the suspect should be sinking into an extreme state of tranquility. Though the excessive calm didn’t quite match his current circumstances, these people from Special Services Division Three shouldn’t be able to tell the difference.
Li Siyu stated flatly, “The suspect was highly unstable earlier. I just gave him a strong sedative, he’s much calmer now.”
“No problem. Special Services Division Three will handle it from here.” The officer waved his hand, signaling his men to step forward.
Li Siyu moved aside, leaning against the wall, and watched as Special Services Division Three’s people hauled the suspect out. The suspect appeared completely unconscious, like a vegetable.
“Siyu.” The officer paused before leaving, his gaze landing on Li Siyu’s face. “The Deputy Chief asked me to pass along a message: ‘Rein in at the edge of the cliff, it’s not too late.'”
Rein in at the edge of the cliff, that was probably meant for himself.
Li Siyu smiled, his tone inscrutable: “Please do me a favor and pass along a message of my own. Tell him, Li Siyu is the kind of man who won’t turn back until he’s slammed headfirst into a wall.”