Chapter 35 The Ninth Bureau

I forced a bitter smile. I hadn’t wanted to get involved, but it seemed there was no escaping it now.

Not long after, my phone rang again—this time it was Chi Yun calling.

“Qin Feng, why is it that every time something bizarre happens, you’re always there?” Her voice was deliberately low, as though she was afraid of being overheard.

“What can I do? You think I want to get myself into this mess?” I said helplessly.

“People from the special department are already on their way to your house. Figure out how to deal with them yourself,” she whispered, then hung up.

Special department...

To be honest, just hearing those words made me instinctively uneasy. If they discovered I was an onmyoji, I’d be under their watchful eye all the time, unable to act freely.

I gathered up all the materials I used for blade sharpening, along with anything that might give away my identity, stuffed them into a box, and hid it under my parents’ bed. I even went out of my way to mess up the house.

I had barely finished when there was a knock at the door.

When I opened it, I saw a stunningly beautiful woman standing outside—a tall figure in a brown trench coat. Her face and figure could easily score a ninety-five out of a hundred.

But I was quickly brought to my senses by her icy gaze sweeping over me.

“Who are you looking for?” I asked.

“Didn’t Director Chi from the police station warn you?” she said coldly. Her voice had a metallic ring to it, but it wasn’t grating.

A jolt ran through me. Special department indeed—they must have even tapped the deputy director’s phone.

Actually, I was overthinking it. The special department had simply monitored my phone after receiving intelligence. When they saw someone calling my number, a quick check revealed it was Chi Yun’s number.

“Heh, so much for personal rights. Show me your identification, or this counts as trespassing,” I shrugged, giving a careless, mocking smile.

She pulled out a black leather ID embossed with the national emblem and flashed it before my eyes.

“Chen Ying’en, Captain of the Special Operations Team, Third Unit, Ninth Bureau, Ministry of National Security. Got a good look?” she said, then stepped forward, pushing past me into the house.

How rude! I muttered, closed the door, and watched as she surveyed my living room.

“Would the captain care for some water?” I said, though I’d already sprawled in the main seat on the sofa.

Chen Ying’en ignored me, striding over in her high boots to stand before me, looking down with a haughty air.

I arched an eyebrow. This woman possessed an innate arrogance—one I found even more irritating than Xu Bao’er’s former naïveté. Xu Bao’er’s haughtiness came from her environment; once she learned humility, she’d lose it. But Chen Ying’en’s was woven into her nature.

I looked up. She wanted me to look up at her? Fine, I’d do just that.

Her trench coat hung loosely from her shoulders, and beneath it she wore a black, form-fitting wool top, making her chest look especially impressive—though who knew if there was padding involved.

I stared for a few seconds, and Chen Ying’en, unable to tolerate it, stepped back, her gaze turning colder and more dangerous.

“Captain Chen, if you have questions, ask quickly. You know it’s awfully inconvenient for a man and a woman to be alone together at this hour. If something happened to you, who’s to say I wouldn’t be blamed?” I yawned and lounged lazily on the sofa.

Her eyes flickered. She’d just tried to intimidate me, but this seemingly ordinary man in front of her didn’t react at all. She recalled that clues in Zhong Guofeng’s case indicated this Dr. Qin Feng had once said something to him, or else he wouldn’t have regretted not listening.

“What exactly did you say to Zhong Guofeng?” she asked, her voice carrying both pressure and authority—a tone that usually broke even the most hardened criminals she interrogated.

“Who’s Zhong Guofeng? Oh, right, the husband of that director. I noticed he was losing his hair and had dark circles under his eyes, so I told him he had kidney deficiency—too much exertion, you know. I advised him to show restraint, or there’d be consequences, possibly even impotence.” I lit a cigarette and rambled on, ignoring her increasingly furious glare.

I went on, feigning agony, “See, this is what happens when you don’t listen to the doctor. We healers always act in good faith. Alas, when a man’s vigor is spent, tragedy follows.”

Chen Ying’en’s fists clenched, her lips twitching. She looked ready to slap me.

“That’s all I told him. By the way, Captain Chen, do you want me to take a look at you? I’m quite skilled in gynecology too—my good friend is a top specialist…”

“Shut your damn mouth, or I’ll— I’ll rip it off!” Chen Ying’en exploded, leaping to her feet, eyes blazing.

I immediately clamped my mouth shut, though after a moment’s thought left the cigarette between my lips, looking as innocent as I could.

Chen Ying’en felt as though she’d thrown all her strength against a pillow—a suffocating, maddening sensation.

She drew several deep breaths before asking, “Besides Zhong Guofeng, did you notice anything odd about his wife?”

I inhaled deeply, exhaled a plume of smoke, and said nothing.

“Answer me, or I’ll have you arrested as a suspect,” she threatened.

“But didn’t you just tell me to shut up? Said you’d rip my mouth off if I spoke. You’re government officials, representing the state, yet you can’t make up your minds—first telling me to shut up, now insisting I answer. This is very—”

“Ugh! Why don’t you just drop dead!” With a sudden kick, she smashed the coffee table in front of her.

Bang!

The entire table shattered, plates and cups scattering and breaking amid the wreckage.

I gaped. “That table was expensive.”

“You—” Chen Ying’en swore that if she could, she’d cut my tongue into pieces so I could never speak again.

Just then, the locked door clicked open, and an elderly man with a head of silver hair entered.

“Director Zhou…” Chen Ying’en looked momentarily embarrassed.

I stood up, stepped forward, and shook Director Zhou’s hand, putting on a pitiful face. “Director Zhou, is it? Since you’re her superior, you must help me. Look at how your staff, wielding state power, has damaged my property.”

Director Zhou chuckled, patting my hand. “Don’t worry, young man. We’ll compensate you.”

“This table’s an antique, passed down from my great-great-grandfather, worth—ten… no, a million,” I haggled shamelessly. In truth, I’d bought it secondhand for a hundred bucks.

“We’ll give you a hundred thousand. No more,” Director Zhou replied.

“A hundred thousand it is, then. I’ll just take the loss.” I grinned, but inwardly, my nerves were on edge. This old man, though mild and kindly on the surface, had eyes that seemed to peer right through me.

And since Chen Ying’en called him Director Zhou, that meant he was the chief of the Ninth Bureau? For a case like this, hardly a major incident for the special department, why would the bureau chief come to my home himself? Even if he didn’t trust Chen Ying’en, he shouldn’t have needed to come in person.

I suspected he’d already discovered something, and my heart sank lower and lower.

“Director Zhou, he—” Chen Ying’en began, upset that Zhou had agreed to pay so much, but he raised a hand to silence her.

“Xiao Chen, step outside. I want to speak with Qin Feng alone.” His tone was gentle, yet brooked no argument.

Fuming, Chen Ying’en stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

Director Zhou looked at me. “Qin Feng, let’s not mince words. I watched the video of you saving Wang Qing today. You hid it well, but you’re still too inexperienced. For someone like me, it’s like a child playing hide-and-seek with an adult—what seems flawless to you is full of holes to me.”

“Director Zhou, I don’t know what you mean,” I feigned ignorance.

“You used a soul-stabilizing technique to suppress the evil energy attacking Wang Qing’s brain. That’s not traditional Chinese acupuncture. Also, though you do well to conceal your energy, it still gives you away. Ordinary people’s yang energy radiates outwards, with a fading edge, like this—” He picked up a splinter of the broken table, crushed it to powder, and sprinkled it on the floor, the granules thinning and blurring at the edges.

“But yours is like this.” He sprinkled another handful—this time, the powder remained consistent from start to finish.

“That’s just two points. I could easily name eight more,” he continued.

I was silent for a while, then laughed. “Director Zhou, you’re a remarkable man, and I, for my part, only want a peaceful, ordinary life.”

“Ordinary? You’ve got more than one life on your hands, yet you call that peaceful?” His voice suddenly turned stern.

In an instant, it felt like I couldn’t breathe. Cold sweat broke out all over me, as if I were a small boat about to be capsized in a raging storm.

After a few seconds, he relaxed, smiling kindly once again. But there was no warmth in it—it was the smile of a sly old fox.

“What do you want?” I exhaled, forcing myself to meet his gaze.

“I’ve looked into you—clean background, legitimate profession. You’re an onmyoji, with powerful spiritual strength, strong nerves, and, most importantly, you’re adept at playing various roles. Our Ninth Bureau needs someone just like you,” he said with a smile, flattering me to the skies.

“And if I refuse?” I asked.

“Then we won’t force you. We’re not bandits, after all. But for newly discovered talents like you, if you don’t accept recruitment, you’ll come under the Ninth Bureau’s supervision, to prevent any threat to society,” he chuckled.

My heart tightened. Though he said ‘supervision,’ I knew that if I lived as a regular person, it wouldn’t matter—but if I tried to investigate anything behind the scenes again, I’d find every step blocked.