Chapter 133#

“I am Qin Mu.”#

Jian Yunchen froze in place, grabbing a passing police officer: “Where is Qin Mu!”

The officer was stunned by the shout.

Jian Yunchen said anxiously: “Qin Mu, the one who came with me, the one who just went into this room!”

The officer stammered, unable to give a clear answer. Jian Yunchen lost his patience and turned to rush to the second floor, but the officer, seeing him turn to leave, hurriedly stopped him.

Not understanding the complexities, he simply read the notification he had received, as was his duty:

“Qin Mu has been taken away by the General Bureau. The documents issued from above have transferred the cases Qin Mu was involved in as well. He is now under the custody of the General Bureau.”

Jian Yunchen’s heart tightened: “When did this happen?”

The officer frowned, recalling for a moment: “Just ten minutes ago, the General Bureau’s car took Qin Mu away.”

Jian Yunchen’s heart sank heavily. He rushed to the doorway and looked ahead into the distance; the midnight streets were lit only by dim streetlights, with only the occasional car passing by.

The station’s lights cast his lean shadow into a long, thin streak. The police car was long gone, and Jian Yunchen stood there alone, his eyes red-rimmed and stubbornly staring ahead. A cold wind blew, rustling his shirt. In the darkness, only a fragile figure could be seen shivering slightly.

It had been a week since Qin Mu was locked up here.

The system hovered in mid-air, a blinding red light radiating from it, illuminating half of Qin Mu’s profile.

He sat on the muddy ground, one leg bent, his hand resting on it. The red light reflected off his features, partially obscured by his drooping hair, casting his disheveled, blood-stained appearance into sharp relief within the dim cell.

His once-decent shirt had become filthy, torn in several places, clearly exposing the wounds across his body that had yet to be treated.

Qin Mu sat with his head bowed. Scattered around him were several bodies with weak breathing. He closed his eyes slightly, the sound of his racing heart drumming against his eardrums.

Sticky, cold blood dripped slowly from his fingertips, mixing into the mud on the ground; it was impossible to tell whose blood it was.

77 flickered in the air, watching Qin Mu, who sat on the ground, with worry. This was the umpteenth time this week he had been subjected to malicious retaliation. No matter how strong Qin Mu’s physical endurance was, he wasn’t made of steel—especially since these people were desperate thugs who aimed to kill.

It hesitated for a moment, harboring dissatisfaction with Jian Yunchen, and muttered:

【Host, your mission trajectory has deviated severely. Now that Jiang Sheng’s life or death is unknown, we need to find the true culprit to help the plot return to its track… Originally, if you had suppressed the villain properly according to the original plot, none of this would have happened, and you wouldn’t…】

“Shut up…” Qin Mu interrupted languidly.

He leaned his head back against the wall, revealing a sharp jawline. Blood slowly trickled from a wound on his face, leaving a winding trail on his cold, pale skin: “If you can help, then help. If you can’t, keep your mouth shut. And—”

He looked up, his light gaze carrying an inherent chill, his tone containing a warning: “Don’t flash that broken red light in front of me when there’s nothing to do. It’s annoying.”

The system pouted aggrievedly and vanished into mid-air.

As the final light source disappeared, Qin Mu’s vision was plunged into darkness. The air was thick with the scent and breathing of many people huddled together. He wiped his face, leaving a long smear of blood across it.

He sighed inwardly. What a shame to be disfigured.

Jian Yunchen… liked this face of his, after all.

Thinking of this, a nameless anger flared up in Qin Mu’s chest. He pushed himself off the wall and stumbled over to the person who had passed out, kicking him hard a few more times.

Just moving a few steps caused a wave of sharp pain to rip through his chest. Qin Mu clutched his abdomen; a burning sensation surged from his lower stomach, tearing at his consciousness.

He hadn’t eaten for days since he came in. He didn’t dare to eat the food here. Given the frequency of people coming to give him trouble, it wouldn’t be impossible for someone behind the scenes to get angry and spike his food, turning him into a cold corpse by the next day.

Qin Mu leaned against the wall to catch his breath for a moment.

Just as he was about to sit down, the iron door was kicked open violently again.

Three or five people entered from behind the door. The leader, with a dark, oppressive gaze, fixed his eyes on Qin Mu. His mouth set in a grim line, his eyes vicious; the moment he saw Qin Mu, he locked onto his prey and began to walk toward him step by step.

The man was dragging a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire along the ground, creating a cold, jarring sound.

Qin Mu stood upright in place. He lifted his half-drooped eyes, scanning the men approaching him with indifference. He rubbed his wrists, and in the next instant, he caught the iron bat swinging toward him.

The sharp barbs pierced deep into his palm, and warm blood welled up instantly. Gritting his teeth, Qin Mu raised his knee and slammed it into the man’s stomach.

The man groaned in pain, slightly hunching over. Qin Mu gripped the iron bat and used his momentum to drag the man behind him, slamming him into the wall. Dust kicked up from the old wall, accompanied by the man’s grunt of pain. The man’s hand slipped, and the iron bat fell into Qin Mu’s grasp.

Qin Mu didn’t waste words. With the bat in hand, he turned to strike the next person approaching him. The man was muscular and took the blow head-on, his massive frame easily casting a shadow that enveloped Qin Mu.

He grabbed the back of Qin Mu’s shirt with both hands, pressed down with force, and kicked his leg out. A wave of more intense pain flared in his already burning abdomen. Qin Mu groaned, his back knee kicked suddenly.

With a “thump,” he dropped to one knee, the iron bat becoming the only thing keeping him upright.

The excruciating pain caused cold sweat to bead on his forehead, and he began to feel bouts of dizziness. Qin Mu clutched his abdomen tightly; the pain began to numb the sensation in his limbs.

The lead man let out a chilling, cruel laugh that echoed in the empty cell, enough to make anyone’s skin crawl. Qin Mu kept his head down, eyes fixed on a point on the floor, waiting for the numbing sensation caused by the pain to fade.

The man pulled his hair back violently, forcing Qin Mu to look at him.

Dark words spilled from his mouth, carrying a cold, hard threat: “To hold on for this long, you’re a man. I’ll ask you one more time: where exactly is Qin Mu?”

Qin Mu’s consciousness was hazy, the pain of his scalp being torn constantly agitating his blurred nerves.

He looked at the man’s face, a hint of a light laugh escaping him.

“I am Qin Mu.”

He replied.

The man’s face darkened instantly, his breathing becoming heavy as if enraged. With bulging eyes, he pulled out a dagger and held it against Qin Mu’s neck. The man wheezed, his eyes beginning to flash with a frantic red light.

The cold dagger caught the dim light, casting a sharp, icy glimmer. The man’s voice sounded like it had been soaked in ice as he leaned in: “Don’t give me any more lip. I’ll ask you one last time: where the hell is the real Qin Mu?”

Qin Mu’s Adam’s apple bobbed, causing a small cut to open. He curled his lips, looking up with a cold, defiant gaze. Even in a position of weakness, there was no sign of panic, only provocation.

He said, word for word:

“I am, Qin Mu.”

Enraged by his tone and eyes, the man tightened his grip on the hilt of the knife. With red eyes, he lunged, plunging the dagger into Qin Mu’s abdomen—

Bright red blood spread instantly, staining the white shirt a deep crimson.

Qin Mu frowned deeply, a muffled cry of pain escaping his lips.