"Come back, that's all. What's the point of shouting?" came the dismissive reply from the kitchen. "Come back, that's all. What's the point of shouting?" repeated Auntie, echoing the words. The kitchen buzzed with the sharp chopping sounds and rich aromas—Zhang Yuanqing smelled the scent of Bok Choy Duck, specifically the high-pressure pot version, his childhood favorite. According to his uncle, after the terror attack in Songhai, Grandma had been constantly trying to reach him, only to find her phone number inactive and messages unanswered, so overwhelmed she had wept. No amount of reassurance from his uncle or aunt could calm her down—only his cousin, who worked at the Public Security Bureau, managed to soothe her. The cousin said: "We haven't found Yuanzi's body yet." After returning home, Zhang Yuanqing immediately contacted Grandma, informing her that he had changed his phone number. Following the terror attack, he had moved into a government-organized safe house with the wealthy woman Guan Ya, where the signal was intentionally blocked for security reasons, preventing anyone from leaving until normal external operations resumed. Grandma believed Guan Ya was no ordinary person, as it was said someone in her family held a high-ranking position in the central government, so she accepted her granddaughter's fanciful tales without question. Zhang Yuanqing said he would be returning home for dinner, and though Grandma expressed her disdain, she secretly prepared the dishes he liked. In the living room, Grandpa was watching the news. A national television program was interviewing an expert who looked youthful despite her advanced age—reportedly over a century old, with skin as smooth as that of an infant. The expert described herself as a leading figure in biology and medicine, having conducted quiet, consistent research at the National Academy of Sciences. Only recently, due to a series of terrorist attacks, had she been compelled to step into the public spotlight to educate the public. "It's not as miraculous as the internet claims—nothing about superhuman abilities, extraterrestrial life, or the revival of spiritual energy is truly grounded," she said, with a strong Wuyu accent. "Through our expert panel's research, we've detected a completely new virus within the bodies of the terrorists. This virus induces human and animal mutations." "Some groups' immune systems can withstand the virus's assault, endowing them with extraordinary abilities, while others who cannot mount an immune response experience mental confusion and violently attack those around them." Is this the half-divine of the Zhu family? Zhang Yuanqing removed his shoes at the entrance, put on cotton slippers, and walked toward the living room. The TV host, after hearing this, asked in tandem: "Could you tell us more about this virus?" The elderly expert, with a youthful appearance, shook his head: "We've confirmed it's a novel virus. The only definite point is that it's artificially cultivated. As for its origin, however, the source remains undetermined." The host nodded repeatedly, then turned to the camera: "Rumors cease with the wise. We urge everyone to view this matter with rationality and to mourn deeply those who have been affected." Zhang Yuanqing sat down beside his grandfather, noticing the elder's expression was profoundly serious, filled with deep concern, and had not eased at all despite the expert's explanations. He thought for a moment and deliberately said, "Grandfather, don't worry—this is just a virus. Once a vaccine is developed, everything will be fine." Grandfather snorted, "You don't know what you're talking about!" He turned to examine his grandson. "Unharmed, I hope?" Zhang Yuanqing moved his joints and replied, "What could possibly have happened to me? The virus-infected people just launched a terror attack, and I and Guan Ya took refuge in the safe house." Grandfather nodded in satisfaction, then went to the balcony to fill his ceramic cup with water. The steady gurgle of warm water flowing into the cup was clearly accompanied by a soft, murmured conversation from Grandfather: "How dare they?" Zhang Yuanqing, hearing this, felt both surprised and unsurprised. The security officers were on the front lines, maintaining public order and handling various severe incidents. They could hardly be unaware of the existence of the spiritual realm practitioners. Indeed, even his cousin had encountered the evil professionals during the initial terror attack at Ping Tai Hospital. As the police chief of the last century, my grandfather must have encountered the beings from the spiritual realm and been aware of the existence of a group of people with supernatural abilities—people who are bound by their moral compass. That’s why he has this question. "The mind-shaping influence of the Zhu family’s half-gods seems ineffective on those with strong willpower, or perhaps it requires repeated 'public education' to take hold. At this stage, the existence of the spiritual realm beings can be kept secret if possible; if not, revealing them is equally acceptable." Zhang Yuanqing thought to himself. At a time of survival, who cares whether or not the existence of the spiritual realm beings is known? About fifteen minutes later, the busy sounds from the kitchen ceased, and Grandma and Auntie came out with trays, setting a full table with delicious dishes. While arranging the plates and bowls, Grandma urged, "You two hurry up and wash your hands—get ready to eat!" Grandfather and Zhang Yuanqing went into the bathroom together. At the table, Zhang Yuanqing ate with swift, graceful movements, his actions vividly expressing his deep nostalgia for his grandmother’s cooking. Grandma was satisfied and said, "Didn't I tell you to bring Guan Ya back with you? Where is she?" Zhang Yuanqing casually replied, "She's been taken back to Beijing by her family—they say Songhai isn't safe. I actually wanted to bring you too, but I couldn't bear to leave Grandma and Grandpa behind." The lovely aunt, with a tear-shaped mole on her eyelid, gave him a withering look. Zhang Yuan清 leaned his head closer and said, "Of course, there's also Aunt." Before his head even touched her fragrant shoulder, Grandma reached out and gently pushed him away. Grandma expressed her growing concern: "I heard that even in Beijing, things are going smoothly. The vaccine for this virus hasn't been developed yet—perhaps it will start spreading again soon. If you can go with Guan Ya to Beijing, that would be a great blessing. You know, infected people develop superpowers—they can even collapse entire buildings. Songhai has so many high-rise buildings; if one collapses, a whole neighborhood is wiped out. Everyone will eventually be caught in the wave..." Her tone conveyed clear dissatisfaction with the current situation. The moral values haven't disappeared for very long. Although the neighborhood where my grandmother lives is upscale, it still falls short compared to the true luxury homes in Songhai. The evil occupation targets banks, the police department, and affluent districts. Fortunately, this neighborhood has escaped the wave so far. "Grandmother, don't worry—when the sky collapses, someone tall will be there to bear the weight," Zhang Yuanqing reassured her. "Wait until my grandson becomes the sovereign of the Sun and saves the world," he added. Grandfather scoffed. "Everyone tall has already taken refuge in the safe houses. Who's going to bear the weight?" How could a retired police officer with such a cynical, disillusioned outlook—someone who values tradition and routine—have produced a nephew so smooth and adaptable, a member of the Void occupation? Has the nephew transformed? Or is he not actually their biological child, but one found on the bridge below? Zhang Yuanqing thought to himself. He changed the subject. "Grandmother, where is my cousin?" "He hasn't come home in several days. With such a major event, every police officer in Songhai has had to work overtime. My wife goes to the police station It's unclear whether she's dissatisfied with her grandson's hard work, or with her sister-in-law taking over her meal delivery duties. ... Kangyang District Public Security Bureau. In the large conference room, Chen Yuanjun was floating among piles of files, accompanied by about a dozen clerical staff, all of whom appeared dazed, with pronounced dark circles under their eyes. They were reading through the files slowly, their expressions blank. In the office area outside, a group of technicians were working overtime to restore data. During the disaster several days prior, both the road monitoring system and the public security systems had been sabotaged by a particularly malevolent occupational force, and the Kangyang District Public Security Bureau itself had also been attacked. After suffering significant losses, the bureau finally managed to defeat the enemy with the assistance of the Special Operations Unit (the Official Stalkers), though it had sustained considerable damage—especially to its electronic records. The public security archives, which served as original documentation of officers' activities and various cases, were fundamental to judicial and criminal investigations and thus of critical importance. Fortunately, the underground archive of the Public Security Bureau escaped damage, allowing the team to reorganize and digitize new electronic records based on the physical documents. Of course, technicians from the Special Operations Unit are also working diligently to restore the electronic archives. Chen Yuanjun set down the physical files, gently pressing his brows with tiredness—he could no longer hold on and decided to take a break. Besides restoring the records, he had spent the day visiting victims' families in Kangyang District and handling tasks such as identifying the deceased and maintaining order, leaving him both mentally and physically drained. At that moment, a technician entered and called out, "Could you help locate a file? The reference number is W924589." The clerical staff searched for the file by reference number, and after a few minutes, a female clerk expressed surprise, "We don't have it—there's no file with that number." "No?" the technician was even more astonished, "That can't be right. If there's no physical file, then how did we manage to restore the electronic records?" Chen Yuanjun, who had originally intended to return to his office for a rest, paused mid-step and furrowed his brow, asking, "What's wrong with this file?" The technician replied, "Actually, Chen Captain, we've restored a file, but it's incomplete. So we wanted to cross-check and supplement it with the original paper documents—unfortunately, those aren't available." As an experienced veteran of the public security team, Chen immediately sensed something amiss—this kind of situation is commonly seen when officers protect criminals. He straightened his expression and renewed his focus, saying, "Take me to see it." The file beginning with W9 corresponds to the year 2019—three years ago—so the time gap is quite short. After leaving the conference room, Chen followed the technician to the office area and sat down at a computer terminal. The technician pointed to the screen, "That's it." Chen focused closely—this was a missing-persons file. The table was fragmented, displaying only the topmost information: Name: Lei Yibing. Gender: Male. Age: 21 The place of origin, physical appearance, last known location, and date of disappearance—all of these details are corrupted. Chen Yuan stared at this "fragmented" file, feeling his blood slowly congeal, a profound coldness spreading through him. Li Yibing had gone missing three years ago?!