Zhu Yan couldn’t help lifting his eyes to glance at Jin Rongxu.
The information seemed a little too arbitrary.
What did “failed to provide valid information” mean?
How had they determined whether a piece of information was valid or not?
Jin Rongxu understood Zhu Zeyu’s confusion.
He was in a rather good mood at the moment and, consequently, unusually agreeable. “Ask whatever you want.”
“What does ‘failed to provide valid information’ mean?”
“And if this was about a deal,” Zhu Yan continued, genuinely puzzled, “why are there only these two written records?”
“Oh.” Jin Rongxu’s tone carried a hint of aloofness. “The Tactical Support Department reported that none of the written records—including their social media posts—revealed the specific details of the transaction.”
“They have a large number of voice-call and video-call records.”
On this point, Jin Rongxu provided a fairly thorough explanation.
This Zhu Zeyu was no weakling. And judging from all his psychological activity so far, he was an obedient, well-behaved student.
Before he met his end, he could be used to protect Jin Rongxu.
So Jin Rongxu wasn’t stupid enough to hide information he ought to know.
“The only written messages that actually involved the transactions are the ones in the file.”
Zhu Yan nodded.
“Not even messages to their families?”
“He had a video call with Li Panlong that lasted three hours,” Jin Rongxu said. “These people aren’t capable of doing anything major, but when it comes to these crooked dealings, they’re surprisingly cautious.”
But it didn’t matter, did it?
They would pass the instance smoothly anyway.
“This isn’t a matter of being unable to contact one individual. We can’t reach an entire village.”
A cold smile spread across Jin Rongxu’s face as he continued explaining.
“The phones have no signal whatsoever, as if the village had been isolated out of thin air. Li Panlong, who left the village to seek his fortune in the city, is in the same situation.”
“Wang Yuanyuan stated that her husband went on a business trip two days ago.”
“She doesn’t know where he went specifically, and we…”
Jin Rongxu’s gaze grew colder and colder.
“We haven’t found any record of him traveling anywhere, either.”
“Oh.” Zhu Yan nodded.
“You mean he vanished into thin air?”
“Captain,” Jin Rongxu emphasized.
“Captain.”
“Yes. He vanished into thin air. And Wang Yuanyuan herself knows nothing about this thing.”
Only then was Jin Rongxu willing to continue.
Zhu Yan felt that Jin Rongxu was a little like one of those monsters that operated on passwords. The word “Captain” was his switch.
“Captain, what about the people who transferred money to this Li-whatever-his-name-is?”
“They disappeared as well,” Jin Rongxu said. “The buyers, along with their families, all vanished. No one can find them, and their phones can’t be reached either.”
Zhu Yan thought of the [Hunter] mission from [Where Is Mom?].
It was spreading the pollution of this “Mom.”
Had the buyers involved in these transactions been affected by that pollution?
“You should read through the transactions properly,” Jin Rongxu said coldly. “I like people who carefully read everything, think it over, and then come to me with questions.”
These transactions?
What did he mean by “transactions”?
Plural…
There was more than one transaction involved. More than two, even?
Zhu Yan lowered his head again and skimmed through the pages. The information he saw sent a chill down his spine.
The next chat log contained roughly the same sort of content, but the contact name was different.
This time, it was another name: “Guan Huan.”
“We agreed on three hundred thousand. Three hundred thousand means three hundred thousand.”
The other party replied, “Okay, thanks. We’ll have someone inspect the goods.”
It seemed this was standard procedure, because the husband who was selling his wife only replied, “Don’t worry. We burned her ourselves. Guaranteed authentic. We won’t try to fool you with chickens, ducks, cattle, or sheep.”
Beneath it was another annotation from the [Human Alliance]:
“The payment of 300,000 yuan was received at 4:05 p.m. that same day and quickly transferred into Li Panlong’s account.”
What did he mean by not trying to fool them with “chickens, ducks, cattle, or sheep”?
Was that industry slang?
Chickens, ducks, cattle, and sheep were edible livestock.
Could it be that these transactions involved selling human flesh?
But even if it was the flesh of an elderly person, selling it for two or three hundred thousand yuan still seemed unbelievable.
Zhu Yan continued turning the pages.
The file recorded four more identical transactions. Each consisted of a very simple agreement on the price, a guarantee that the goods were genuine and unadulterated, and a reply from the other party accepting the terms.
Following those chat logs was a lengthy analysis and summary from the [Human Alliance]:
“We contacted the local police station and located experts familiar with the local customs and folk traditions, as well as residents of nearby villages, and questioned them.”
“After conducting an in-depth investigation and screening process, we learned that some villages in the area still retain the custom of eating human flesh. They consume naturally miscarried or prematurely deceased infants, as well as elderly people who have died of natural causes.”
“They are highly likely to have purchased human flesh from the parties involved for consumption…”
That sounded a little too absurd.
Zhu Yan’s brows drew together.
The [Human Alliance] had indeed conducted a serious investigation.
But was this conclusion really correct?
Zhu Yan couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.
He flipped through the file several times, but couldn’t find anything specific. In the end, he started with the part that seemed most unreasonable to him.
“So, the price of one portion of human flesh…”
“Captain!”
“Captain.” Zhu Yan hurriedly corrected himself. “How much does one portion of human flesh cost?”
“More or less the prices listed in their transactions.”
This Zhu Zeyu asked far too many questions. Jin Rongxu was growing impatient again.
“Anywhere from 150,000 to 350,000 yuan. Our people visited the villages surrounding this one, and everyone gave us the same answer.”
Zhu Yan nodded.
“…Thank you, Captain.”
He went over the file several more times, committing the information to memory before returning it to Jin Rongxu.
“I’m done reading. I remember everything.”
Zhu Yan glanced out the window.
The bus heading to [Xishan University] seemed to have already left.
Could he use the password to go directly to Room 303?
He also had no idea whether the passage connecting the four schools was still open… He still had to go to [Lazybones Craft Shop].
That was his top priority!
“Don’t leave just yet,” Jin Rongxu ordered. “Guan En should have told you, right? Director Jin still wants to meet. You. Also, you’ll be staying at the [Human Alliance] for the next few days, because—hey!”
The Zhu Zeyu who had been standing in front of him suddenly muttered something under his breath and vanished right before Jin Rongxu’s eyes!
…
Room 303.
Zhu Yan landed hard on the carpet. The first thing he saw was the grayish-white ceiling.
He got to his feet and looked around. Aside from the cow cat poking its head out from the bed to stare at him, the room was empty.
Zhu Yan hurriedly put away his puppet and transformed back into the appearance of “Zhu Zeyu.”
He quickly checked the marker in his hand, then rushed out of the dormitory toward the location of the passage.
Zhu Yan was far too lazy to listen to Jin Rongxu ramble on.
In any case, he had memorized the information and would enter the instance on schedule.
His own affairs were much more important than waiting on Jin Rongxu. So what if he acted first and reported afterward?
If Jin Rongxu wanted to make use of his abilities, then he would have to put up with Zhu Yan’s temper!
lan, the Luo family, tracked him down - along with the babies in their arms. Mo Xuan stared pensively at the paternity test results from over a dozen top institutions, both domestic and international, showing a 99.99% match between himself and the two baby girls. At 23, Mo Xuan, a doctoral student, had become the father of two three-year-old children. The kicker? The mothers weren't even the same person! He gradually realized he was being lured step by step into an elaborate trap designed by these two yandere sisters. "Be good, little Xuan. Sister's life belongs to you entirely." "Brother, if you try to run away, I'll have no choice but to tie you up." Mo Xuan: "Do whatever you want, ladies. I give up."
ing gift was a patch of barren land, and disciples were all picked up along the way. He spent fifty years diligently building three "ramshackle little sects," thinking he could finally live a carefree life relying on his disciples. But right at the fifty-year mark, he was suddenly swept away by a spatial rift and exiled to the Chaos Desolation, the Disorderly Ruins. There was no spiritual energy there, only slaughter. Relying on the cultivation feedback from his disciples, Gu Changyuan hacked his way through a sea of blood for eleven hundred years. When the system finally fished him back out, he discovered the ramshackle little sects he'd built back then had developed a rather... unusual style. Hold on... I vanished for a thousand years, so how did my ramshackle little sects become holy lands?!
ut it can buy an entire year of absolutely perfect training results! Su Yu stared at his empty wallet and decisively opened up various online loan platforms. “Borrow a thousand bucks! Recharge my vitality!” Boom! His vitality broke a hundred points, shattering the limits of the human body! “Borrow ten thousand bucks! Recharge my combat skills!” Boom! A basic punching technique so common it was everywhere instantly maxed out, revealing the ultimate assassination technique of Five Elements Unity—Inner Force! When a rich kid hired assassins for a midnight ambush, aiming to break both of his legs, they instead ran headfirst into a monster—a human-shaped tyrannosaur, brimming with dragon-like vitality. With just two fingers, Su Yu snapped a steel staff reinforced with alloy. Staring at the killer’s stash of stolen cash—a staggering quarter-million dollars—he showed a corporate-sincere smile: “Thanks for the pre-exam gift pack, Mr. Zhao! I’m gonna go re-invest this!” Three days later, at the National Martial Arts College Entrance Exam, while everyone else struggled just to reach the passing line, Su Yu threw a single punch—and more than a thousand vitality points literally detonated the entire arena!
ive and Ruthless] Before his transmigration, Ye Xuan was playing a game called "Severing Emotions to Attain the Dao." The game's core wasn't about leveling up by fighting monsters, but about conquering various "bad women" with wicked personalities and cold, fickle natures. There was only one method to conquer them: stay unwaveringly by their side, then die at a critical moment, driving them to madness after losing the protagonist. The higher their level of regret, the higher the player's score. To dominate the server, Ye Xuan conquered all the bad women. In the early stages, he showered them with boundless tenderness, only to choose to sacrifice himself for them later, making them weep bitterly and drown in regret. Among them were: Xia Lengyue, the unfaithful immortal wife who chased after powerful men and discarded her husband like trash. Ye Qingcheng, the Demonic Venerable of the Joyous Union Sect, who appeared pure and innocent but was, in reality, promiscuous. Wu Lingxiao, the Empress of the Great Xia Dynasty, who lusted after men and loved maintaining a harem. Bai Qiangu of the Endless Demonic Sect: a bloodthirsty mass murderer. However, when the protagonist transmigrated into the game world, he made a horrifying discovery. Eight hundred years had already passed. The bad women he had conquered had now each become deities and revered ancestors. Faced with the endless stream of toxic women coming for him, Ye Xuan could only rely on his god-tier acting skills to carve a path of survival through this world of treacherous women.
