Chapter 75: The Deal

Staring at the message from the other party, Huang Yuanguang did not reply immediately. Instead, he reached into the bag beside him and took out an object.

It was the teacup he always held in his hand during work hours.

Pressing on the base of the teacup, Huang Yuanguang slowly twisted it along the spiral direction. As he rotated, the base gradually loosened and came off.

Inside the now-detached black base was a miniature camera connected to a USB drive. The camera’s lens matched the base’s color so closely that, unless one looked very carefully, it was nearly impossible to spot.

He plugged the USB drive into his computer and opened the storage files inside the camera—photos, each one capturing documents or images displayed on his computer screen.

Carefully, Huang Yuanguang sifted through the photos, trimming them. He cut away any information at the edges or within the image that might expose his identity or location. These edited photos were then saved in a separate folder.

He also ran an antivirus scan on the computer to ensure there were no viruses or trojans present. Only after confirming the system was clean did Huang Yuanguang finally begin communicating with his contact.

“Of course I have intel—the latest updates on the 8·12 major case, including internal meeting records.”

“What’s your price?”

“Four.”

“Three.”

Pretending to ponder, Huang Yuanguang typed with feigned difficulty on his computer.

“…Alright.”

“Same address as before?”

“We’ll use a different one this time.”

Huang Yuanguang provided a new virtual currency address he’d recently registered.

Soon after, his wallet showed a transfer of 3 BTC.

Based on the latest exchange rate, that was over six hundred thousand Dragon Kingdom yuan—more than two years of his own salary.

Suppressing his delight, Huang Yuanguang sent over the carefully filtered photos one by one.

“So this is the final conclusion? The task force believes the 8·12 case was mutual slaughter among the security staff?”

“That’s right…”

Thoughts swirled in Huang Yuanguang’s mind. At last, he steeled himself and typed:

“…However, as far as I know, there are members within the task force dissatisfied with this conclusion. There may be changes to it in the future.”

“The group has already reached a verdict; how could there be changes?”

“With cases like this, nothing is certain. There are always many unforeseen twists in criminal investigations.”

Huang Yuanguang stared intently at the computer screen, anxious for the other party’s reply. For the sake of future transactions, and to earn more money for his wife and child, he deliberately dangled this bait to pique the other’s interest. This approach echoed the ancient tactic of raising bandits to increase one’s own importance, but whether the other would bite remained beyond his control.

“Then in the future, keep an eye out for me.”

Success.

A smile broke through Huang Yuanguang’s restraint.

“OK.”

Having completed a major transaction and secured the possibility of future deals, his mood soared. He took the opportunity to mention:

“The case closure data for homicide cases in Qingjiang Province over the past two years that you asked for—I’ve found them. There’s plenty of material. What price can you offer?”

“What do you think?” the other replied nonchalantly.

“We’ve traded so many times. For this batch, how about…” After a moment’s thought, Huang Yuanguang deleted “free” and replaced it with “0.1.” Even the smallest profit mattered.

The other did not bargain, simply replied “good,” and the deal was done once more. Watching his wallet receive the equivalent of over twenty thousand yuan in bitcoin—more than two months’ salary—Huang Yuanguang felt complicated emotions.

The transaction completed, the chat window showed the other party had disconnected. The conversation was over.

Looking at the account named “fire punch,” Huang Yuanguang lit another cigarette, inhaling deeply, lost in a haze of confusion and daze.

He had started doing these sorts of things a year ago, before “fire punch” had ever reached out.

Initially, Huang Yuanguang only occasionally sold outdated internal materials to the dark web—he considered himself careful, never leaking information on economic investigation or major crime cases, selling only files and images from old, closed cases, especially photographs.

For many people in the world’s hidden corners, real-world brutality always stirred their curiosity. To obtain those bloody photos, so long as authenticity and exclusivity were guaranteed, they were often willing to pay handsomely.

Though relegated to the “Behavioral Analysis Division,” a marginalized department with no real power or frontline duties, mostly spent idling with tea, this idle time gave Huang Yuanguang space to access case information.

To avoid detection, he never used computer screenshots or phone photos, but relied on the miniature camera embedded in his teacup’s base. His habit of always holding the cup became his personal style.

Over those months, Huang Yuanguang sold hundreds of photos. Each shot was soaked in blood and highly praised among dark web buyers—sometimes fetching thousands of Dragon Kingdom yuan apiece. This quick and easy money drew him in, and within a few months he’d saved tens of thousands, hard to resist. Especially as he now had less authority than a police station deputy chief, this was a rare opportunity.

Moreover, Huang Yuanguang thought his actions harmed no one. The information was sanitized, just photos—serving only the twisted psychology of certain individuals, causing no real damage, while bringing him extra income. Why not?

Back then, Huang Yuanguang was content to enjoy his modest fortunes.

But—the true turning point came with the arrival of the 8·12 major case and the formation of the task force.

It was then that he realized all his previous deeds were mere child’s play.

He would never forget the moment, about a month after the task force was established, when he received the first private message from “fire punch” through his dark web channels. The instant he saw it, his mind seemed to flood with anxiety.

“You must be a police officer in Qingjiang Province, Dragon Kingdom, right?”

Reading further, the second message steadied his panicked heart.

“I want to know the progress on the 8·12 case and am willing to pay for it.”

Pay for it?

The other party shouldn’t know my exact identity.

Could this be a colleague who discovered leaked internal information on the dark web, trying to set a trap?

Complex thoughts tangled in his mind.

After a long time, Huang Yuanguang’s hands trembled as he typed a reply:

“Let’s talk via **, we can discuss in detail.”

And so, Huang Yuanguang maintained contact with this person called “fire punch,” right up to today.

(End of chapter)