Chapter 53: The Turning Point

With a loud splash, Wang Zhiming's corpse was hauled out of the deep pit and swiftly sealed inside a black body bag.

Because it carried a certain taint, this body would not be returned to his family. Instead, it would become a precious specimen on the laboratory table, making an outstanding contribution to the progress of human civilization.

But none of this concerned Ni Wenxing. As an auxiliary assistant, he had more pressing tasks—such as buying breakfast.

“Thank you, thank you, I was starving. Since yesterday noon, all I had was a bowl of instant noodles! This life is hardly fit for a human!” Mu Yu, face alight with gratitude, took the paper bag from Ni Wenxing’s hands, immediately stuffing a steamed bun into his mouth.

Soft and warm, tender and juicy—the savory filling was irresistible. Washed down with a sip of slightly sweet soy milk, it was as if the very meaning of life had been rediscovered.

Though Mu Yu’s expression hovered between deranged and blissful, Ni Wenxing showed no sign of distaste and stood respectfully by.

Mu Yu’s meteoric rise had already made him a legend within their limited circle. Whether out of pure self-interest or lofty ideals, a hero who risked his life for humanity deserved due respect.

Besides, as far as Ni Wenxing was concerned, Mu Yu’s unruly demeanor was likely a means to vent his inner turmoil. Madness, chaos, and bloodshed were the true tone of these events. Anyone unable to ease the burden within would eventually descend into the abyss, becoming yet another case to be dealt with.

At this thought, Ni Wenxing’s gaze grew even more fervent, tinged with admiration. This was what it meant to be a warrior on humanity’s front lines.

Mu Yu eyed Ni Wenxing suspiciously and quickened his eating. That look… was he eyeing my food?

“Here’s the file you requested.”

Noticing Mu Yu had finished his breakfast, Ni Wenxing deftly took the paper bag and handed over a folder.

“Thank you,” Mu Yu nodded. When he’d turned in that blue bone earlier, he’d also requested information on Zhao Zhongmin.

Though the incident seemed resolved, many questions remained. That kind of power was not something a newly initiated Controller should possess.

And then there was the person who gave Zhao Zhongmin the object, the owner who built the rest stop, the restriction that forbade Zhao Zhongmin from leaving the area—all these details Mu Yu had already reported to headquarters.

With a behemoth like the state apparatus at his disposal, to try handling everything alone wasn’t confidence—it was foolishness.

Watching Ni Wenxing depart with a special containment bag, Mu Yu opened the file in his hands.

That bag contained the remains of Zhao Zhongmin and his son. If ordinary people were to come into contact with it, another incident was likely to occur. Though he sympathized with the father and son, business had to be conducted impartially.

Mu Yu shook his head and focused on the file.

It was thick, nearly a hundred pages, chronicling over forty years of Zhao Zhongmin’s life. In this information age, everyone’s footsteps left an unmistakable trail.

Birth certificates, school diplomas, employment contracts, property deeds—each piece of documentation formed the mosaic of a life.

Mu Yu had no time to read it all, but the file conveniently highlighted the critical events.

For instance, the disappearance of Zhao Zhongguo.

After Zhao Zhongguo vanished, Zhao Zhongmin immediately called the police. But with surveillance technology still primitive at the time, the investigation started in the wrong direction.

They reviewed all the cameras at nearby intersections, again and again, never realizing the child had been buried beneath a pile of dust.

“Li Fugui…”

Mu Yu muttered the name on the file, frowning.

“That person’s records are forged. In those days, paper files were still common, so it went unnoticed.”

Mu Yu looked up to see a man in military uniform standing beside him, his face stern as he extended a hand.

“Let’s get acquainted. I’m Peng Xuebin, Mo Yan’s senior.”

“Oh, a pleasure, a pleasure.” Mu Yu hurriedly shook hands. He’d been wary at first, but realizing this was an ally, he relaxed.

“We found the two people you mentioned at the rest stop. One is unconscious from severe frostbite. The other kept demanding to see you, so we brought him back for a little education.”

Mu Yu hardly needed to guess—it was Luo Ling, the notorious live streamer. Such troublemakers deserved a lesson or two.

“What about Li Xiang and that other person?” Mu Yu asked after a moment’s thought. In the end, Zhao Zhongmin had spared Li Xiang, and only the greedy Wang Zhiming had died—an unexpected outcome.

“They’re in the hands of the criminal justice department. Whatever sentence is due will be given,” Peng Xuebin replied dismissively. “Whatever background they have, it won’t matter. If things get out of hand, they’ll just add ‘endangering human safety’ to the charges—life in prison becomes the death penalty.”

“The main issue now is Li Fugui. We can’t find any information on him. It’s as if he appeared out of nowhere twenty years ago, bringing a fully documented company to build the rest stop.”

“After the project was done, both the man and the company vanished without a trace.”

Mu Yu’s frown deepened as he picked up the file again. It was true: everyone else—Li Xiang, Wang Zhiming—had a complete life history. Only Li Fugui’s record was a flimsy two pages.

“Based on your report, we focused our investigation on Zhao Zhongmin’s recent situation and found this man again.”

Peng Xuebin handed Mu Yu his communicator, which displayed a medical bill. The payer’s signature was a flamboyant “Li Fugui”—even an unrefined man like Mu Yu could see its artistic flair.

“Qin Yue?” Mu Yu read the name aloud, puzzled. A medical bill of over three hundred thousand wasn’t something an ordinary family could afford.

“Zhao Zhongmin’s wife.”

Peng Xuebin’s words made Mu Yu’s expression freeze, his hand at his side clenching involuntarily.

“Two months ago, Qin Yue was hit by a truck driver and suffered multiple compound fractures. She died in the ICU on March twelfth from respiratory failure.”

“On the payment slip, we found Li Fugui’s name. The money came from that company.”

Peng Xuebin watched Mu Yu, worry flickering in his eyes. A palpable chill seemed to radiate from Mu Yu.

“And the driver?”

Mu Yu’s voice was hoarse from anger.

“Hanged himself in detention,” Peng Xuebin replied, shaking his head. The method was barely concealed; it was a blatant mockery of their helplessness.

“We’ve already sent people to track the whereabouts of his body. We’ll have answers soon.”

A surging, murderous intent flooded Mu Yu’s mind, the bloodshot veins in his eyes slowly spreading.

Zhao Zhongmin likely never realized, even at the end, that everything had been decided more than twenty years ago. The so-called ‘living stake,’ the ‘accident’—they were only smokescreens.

From the beginning, Zhao Zhongmin was the target.

To keep him willingly stationed at the rest stop, they destroyed everything he loved. They buried an innocent child beneath the dust, condemned a mother to more than twenty years of suffering and a suffocating death.

They played god, aloof and indifferent, crushing Zhao Zhongmin’s happiness as easily as destroying an anthill.

How dare they!

It was a long time before Mu Yu regained enough control to raise his head.

“Let me know if you get any leads,” he said.

He would not ask why such an obvious scheme had gone undetected until it was too late, nor would he vent his rage on Peng Xuebin.

He would catch this man, break his limbs one by one, cast him in lime, and set him forever kneeling before the Zhongmin family’s grave.

“All right,” Peng Xuebin agreed without hesitation. He’d heard the truth from Mo Yan. A powerful and controllable Controller like Mu Yu was a precious asset to any side.

Besides, what those people had done… was simply too much. Even Peng Xuebin had trembled with rage the first time he read the report.

“We’ll take over from here. Please do as you need.”

“Good. By the way, arrange a car for me.”

Mu Yu nodded. After all this, he was more determined than ever to get his loved ones into the safety zone.

Ordinary people were far too fragile before the likes of Controllers and ability users. Resistance wasn’t even possible; they might die without ever learning the truth.

Soon, a military-green jeep pulled up in front of Mu Yu, his luggage already stowed in the trunk.

“Oh, it’s you again,” Mu Yu said, recognizing the face in the mirror.

“My name is Ni Wenxing. You can just call me Wenxing,” he replied, sitting upright. “Where to?”

“Mei Village, do you know it? Just take me there.”

……………………………………………………………………………………

Explosive music thundered in Milan’s ears. Amid the alcohol and the seductive, exposed bodies, she felt her body temperature rising.

Even at midnight, the bar was packed with revelers, wantonly seeking pleasure and indulgence.

Whether white-collar professionals in tailored suits or punks with neon-dyed mohawks, once their disguises were shed, they were all the same—hungry wolves hunting prey.

Perhaps this was the world of adults?

So Milan mused, when a loud bang sounded overhead. Countless platinum fragments rained from above, drawing cheers from the crowd.

No one noticed that no matter how much golden confetti fell, the floor remained spotless.

The bar’s owner, however, did not join the revelry. He stood on the second floor, watching the growing tide of desire below.

“Failed, did you?”

The young man asked without turning, his clear eyes reflecting the unrestrained crowd.