A forensic officer from the Blue Hub Ability Inspection Bureau hurried over and, with his gloved right hand, lifted Clova’s body. Her eyes were wide open, dust smeared across her face. A bloody hole roughly one centimeter wide marked the center of her forehead, while nearly a third of the rear of her skull had been shattered.
“Projectile caliber above one centimeter. Penetrating brain trauma caused death. No ability-related damage. No residual foreign pheromones. Commander Clova was killed by a human weapon.”
The forensic officer stood and reported to the people beside him.
The captain currently in charge asked, “Any chance we can extract the visual palace Commander Clova formed before death?”
“Very unlikely. The visual palace reconstructed by Commander Clova should have been stored in her spirit-realm system, but look—her brain suffered severe damage, and the area between the frontal and temporal lobes has already clouded. The spirit-realm system no longer exists.” The forensic officer sighed regretfully. “If only the bullet hadn’t struck the brain.”
If it had not struck the brain, the forensic team could now have extracted the final image Clova had reconstructed before death— Black clouds rolling over a lightless athletic field. A bolt of lightning striking down, illuminating Ediv’s figure… and not far away, Lance’s innocent yet sinister smile.
The forensic officer picked up his examination kit and prepared to hurry toward Bolas’s location. The Red Saha Ability Research Institute had recently developed a pheromone extractor capable of collecting the residual scent left after an ability was used.
With the pheromone signature, they could identify a suspect.
But because the technology had only just been updated, the extraction window was extremely strict: the residue had to be collected within one hour of ability use.
Running as he pulled out the device, the forensic officer wiped sweat from his face and explained, “I heard Commander Bolas was killed by an ability. I brought the extractor. We should still be within the time limit.”
Fortunately, the incident had occurred in Capital City, where Blue Hub’s core forces were concentrated. That was the only reason the most advanced technology could be deployed to the crime scene so quickly.
The captain, however, blocked his path. “No need.”
The forensic officer stopped in surprise.
“If extraction were possible, we would have taken you there first. The severed vehicle suddenly exploded just now. The entire scene was burned away.”
The forensic officer frowned. “How did it become that severe?”
“We don’t know yet. The vehicle had already been switched off, so logically it should not have produced an explosion that large. But there’s nothing left to verify now.”
“What a shame. The killer used an ability. This secret weapon would have been perfect.”
“The culprit probably possesses instant-transfer capability. Let’s hope they haven’t escaped yet.”
Mad Clown, who really did possess instant-transfer capability, appeared beside Lance and could not resist teasing him. “Well, that settles it. Things are even worse now. You have absolutely no choice but to finish your degree at Xingzhou University.”
“Not now.” Lance had no time for idle conversation. He crouched and disassembled the rifle, returning the VSSK to its case in fifteen seconds. Then he tossed the case to Mad Clown without a trace of reluctance, eyes sharp. “Send me back immediately. I need to reach the dorm before Zhan Pingchuan.”
The moment he saw Zhan Pingchuan leap from the stadium canopy and streak away at a speed appropriate for racing home to attend a funeral, Lance had become anxious.
If Zhan Pingchuan returned to find him absent while the shower was running, suspicion was inevitable.
The Black Lantern Society was currently dominating the media, and Lance’s own movements were suspicious. It would be difficult not to connect the two.
After all, Zhan Pingchuan had been dragged into the Ediv incident against his will and had every reason to be wary.
Mad Clown grinned. “Young Master, you look exactly like a little wife sneaking around behind her husband’s back. Even Madam Pan in the grave would want to ask: where’s the morongweng you prepared for your husband?”
Lance narrowed his eyes at him.
Mad Clown doubled over laughing, snapped his fingers, and sent the furious Lance back to the dormitory.
The sun had already dropped to the mountain ridge. Dense crimson clouds compressed into silk, and the line of sunset slowly slid down the dormitory wall. In another fifteen minutes, that sharp boundary of light and shadow would fall below the third-floor window.
At the critical moment, Lance stepped through the shadow of the window frame and landed steadily on the water-covered tiles.
The shower still ran. Steam filled the room. The lock showed no sign of ever having been opened.
He was just about to retrieve Mad Clown’s soul fragment when someone began pounding rudely on the dormitory door.
“Why aren’t you coming out? Is anyone in there or not? If you don’t open up, I’m using the spare key!” The dorm manager’s rough voice came through the door.
Lance’s eyes sharpened instantly. By instinct, he raised the sleeve hiding the morongweng, killing intent exposed—then immediately remembered where he was.
He hurriedly unbuttoned his clothes and, at lightning speed, stripped completely naked. Then he increased the water pressure and stood under the shower long enough to soak himself from head to toe.
Without stopping to dry off, Lance grabbed his clothes and rushed from the bathroom. Closing his eyes, he forced himself past the psychological discomfort and pulled pajamas over his wet body.
A key had already entered the lock. As it turned, the manager could be heard cursing. “I’ve heard movement in there this whole time, but you refuse to open the door. Who spoiled you little bas—”
Before she finished, the lock clicked and the door was ripped open from inside with great force, revealing Lance’s drenched, icy profile.
The manager jumped, then immediately began shouting. “So now you know how to open the door? What were you doing earlier?”
Lance’s pupils narrowed dangerously before relaxing. He put on a blank expression. “Showering. I didn’t hear you.”
Seeing him wet from head to toe, breath uneven, cheeks faintly red, looking like some seductive little creature unaware of his own effect, the manager snapped, “Where’s your roommate? That A-rank.”
“Went out,” Lance answered evenly.
He found it strange too. Zhan Pingchuan was taking an awfully long time. At the speed he had left, he should have circled the entire university by now. Could the man be all show and no substance—physically weak underneath?
“When did he leave?” the manager demanded.
Lance did not answer immediately. He stared into her murky yellow eyes, and a thought suddenly stirred.
Bolas had died to an ability. Clova had died to a bullet. Anyone capable of instantly killing a B-rank animal-type Awakener would narrow the suspect pool to A-rank and above.
Lance could easily tell her the exact time Zhan Pingchuan left. An S-rank disappearing for that long with no witness to account for him would find the blame almost impossible to shake.
Zhan Pingchuan even had motive.
Ediv had coveted his ability and openly clashed with him in the classroom…… Nothing could be more plausible.
Lance had always possessed a dark heart and ruthless methods.
He liked watching people bright enough to hurt the eyes fall into the mud and be ground down, compensation for his own dark childhood.
Anyone not of his kind could be killed. A one-hundred-percent pheromone match was no exception.
“Not long.” He heard his own voice say it, and his lashes trembled in disbelief.
It felt as if his vocal cords had disconnected from his cerebral cortex. His rational decision had never traveled through his nerves to his throat. Instead, three uncontrolled words came out.
He had covered for Zhan Pingchuan.
“Where did he go?” The manager caught that momentary oddness, suspicion filling her eyes.
Lance was not someone who obsessed over the past. The words had already been spoken. Only the future could be changed.
He quickly steadied himself. When he looked up again and was about to answer, a lazy, unruly voice drifted down the corridor through the echo. “Who’s looking for me?”
The manager turned and looked up. Zhan Pingchuan stood there with his collar half-open, jacket hanging loosely from his shoulders, carrying an unknown bag in one hand with a thoughtful little bow tied in it.
He glanced back, lips still curved. Sweat slid down past his eyelid, making him lower his gaze slightly. Without effort, he radiated a pressure that made breathing difficult.
That was the aura S-ranks were born with.
“You looking for me?”
The manager did not dare casually offend a high-ranking Awakener. Suppressing her temper, she looked down and typed into the university staff group chat: “Leadership, I have confirmed the location of every A-rank freshman. Please advise next steps.”
At the crime scene, the university president—deep in performative mourning—looked at the message, then silently looked toward what remained of Bolas, now a charred smear. His expression said: What do you mean? Tell me. Go on. Stand up and say it if you dare.
Unfortunately, Bolas would never answer him again.
The president pursed his lips and replied:
“No further action.”
Dorm manager: “?”
Leadership really was sick in the head.
She gave an empty snort, pocketed the keys, and hurried away under Zhan Pingchuan’s stare.
Zhan Pingchuan watched her fleeing back with a scoff. Then he turned, leaned carelessly against the doorframe, hid the shumai behind him, put one hand in his pocket, and changed his expression entirely. “Student Lance, guess why I came back so late?”
Lance lifted one brow. Confusion immediately appeared in his eyes as he cooperated perfectly. “Why?”
—Because you went to kill Bolas and strutted around on the stadium roof like a peacock.
Zhan Pingchuan had been waiting for the question. He immediately lowered his head and sighed, Adam’s apple rolling as he delivered his story with full emotion. “I’d already bought the shumai and was just about to bring them back while they were hot when an Omega suddenly threw himself at me and grabbed my arm. He cried and said lamb-and-radish shumai reminded him of his mother. You know me. I’m soft-hearted and love helping people, so I had no choice but to give them to him. You’re not angry, are you?”
The corner of Lance’s mouth twitched almost invisibly. He quickly concealed it, furrowed his brows, and looked deeply moved. “How pitiful. Student Zhan, you did the right thing. It’s fine if I don’t eat.”
—His mother’s taste, my ass. You were delayed killing someone. Keep making things up. Go ahead.
Lance’s wet hair clung to his cheek, water still running steadily from it. His eyes were full of clear, gentle waves, and his ears were faintly red from the hot shower. He looked pure, innocent, and incredibly easy to deceive.
Zhan Pingchuan suddenly leaned closer, tilting his head until his deep-set features came near Lance’s profile. He studied Lance with a wicked smile and deliberately lifted his tone at the end. “But I couldn’t bear to let you go without.”
His shoulder moved. One finger hooked through the plastic bag and slowly brought it out from behind his back.
“So I lined up for another portion.”
Lance froze.
He lowered his eyes. Zhan Pingchuan was proudly swinging the bag from one finger. Sweat had nearly soaked through his cuffs, while the hot fragrance of lamb and something embarrassingly romantic spread together through the air.
Lance suddenly laughed, a smile so bright even the sunset seemed to ripple.
“So that’s why you came back late.”
[True and False Dungeons]