Splish splash. The door of the interrogation room was opened from the outside, and in came Captain Shu Yajing of the police force. Her simple makeup gave her a unique charm—especially her tailored uniform, which combined with the natural grace of a female officer, would be enough to ignite any man’s most primal desire if the scene were set in a nightclub. “Good morning, Officer,” Qin Feng said casually, giving her a rather flirty greeting. After all, he had already made it his mission to dig a hole for this policewoman; even a little warmth now helped ease some of his guilt. “Pretty lively today,” Shu Yajing remarked, “seems like you got a good night’s rest.” "Not by a long shot," Qin Feng replied. "If it hadn’t been for that fortunate chance I’ve had to inherit and learn the art of breath cultivation, I’d be looking at panda eyes right now." "What about my case?" asked Qin Feng—this was just an opening move; what really mattered came next. Shu Yajing thought he was intimidated, so she said dryly: “It’s not good for you. Both the victims and the street vendors who witnessed the incidents have all pointed directly to you as the one responsible. You’re accused of intentional harm and disruption of public order—two charges alone should be enough to send you straight into detention for at least six months. Even if you hold a foreign passport, it won’t matter—you're not truly an international citizen, merely someone with a document from Latvia, a country that doesn’t enjoy much diplomatic recognition.” Implied in her words: even if she didn’t file charges against him directly, he’d surely be held in custody for the foreseeable future. “And what about those people who were injured?” Qin Feng asked, “Have you gathered their identities yet?” Shu Yajing blushed slightly: “Even if they’re just ordinary street folk, does that matter? Aren’t street fights part of daily life? Don’t talk to me about the principle of self-defense—what you’ve done is clearly overzealous. You’ve gone beyond what’s necessary and now owe responsibility.” Qin Feng nodded and asked: “Do you have any paper and pen?” “You want to make a statement, don’t you?” Shu Yajing said, tossing her personal notepad and pen right into his hands. Qin Feng quickly wrote down several numbers and one person’s name, then tucked the paper into Shu Yajing’s hand with a commanding tone: “Call this person immediately—tell them that the death threat has been lifted. They’ll understand.” Shu Yajing raised her eyebrows in surprise: “Why should I follow your instructions? Who are you?” Qin Feng smiled mysteriously, pointing to her rank of Assistant Inspector: “If you call it off now, you might very well earn yourself a flower—after all, you’ve just been promoted. If you don’t act, then nothing will happen. You decide what’s best. By the way, what time do you officially begin work?” Shu Yajing glanced at her watch instinctively: “Exactly eight o’clock—we have fourteen minutes.” “Oh,” Qin Feng said with a smile, then corrected himself: “Actually, only thirteen minutes—because calling someone will take at least one minute. Officer, take your time and think it over.” With that, Shu Yajing walked back to her office, slightly dazed. It took several minutes before she regained composure, and when she finally snapped her fingers: “A young officer barely out of his prime—standing up to me, the deputy chief? That’s unusual. Wait—isn’t this a call from the Military Command? Wei Qingtian… isn’t that—Wei... Wei Chairman?” Her eyes widened as she instinctively reached for her phone, pressing several numbers before realizing something was off and switching to the office landline. The line connected, and her heart began to race—what would she say if it really were Wei Chairman? Just as she was feeling uncertain, a calm voice came through: “Hello, this is Wei Qingtian. May I ask who you are?” It was indeed Wei Qingtian—the very chairman of the military command. Shu Yajing’s heart nearly leaped into her throat. At that moment, all she could recall was Qin Feng's words—“Someone told me to convey that the death threat has been lifted.” The tone of the voice, initially so composed, now grew tense: “Could you repeat that, please?” Shu Yajing nearly dropped the handset, carefully repeating: “Someone told me to inform you—that the death threat...has been...lifted.” On the other end of the line sat an elderly officer in military uniform with a general’s rank, posture upright and clearly excited. “Young lady,” he said, “who are you? Who instructed you to make this call? Tell me—was it someone from the Plains City police force who asked you to contact me as a suspect? How could such a person be both a suspect and the one delivering good news?” “Yes, Your Excellency!” Shu Yajing hung up immediately and dashed out of her office. By the time she reached the hallway, several senior officers from the district command were already walking toward the interrogation room. As soon as she arrived, she heard a young woman arguing with someone: “What are you people doing? Even when carrying out official duties, don’t you let us eat our breakfast first?” Down below, Fang Fang was arguing with a group of officers—she had just placed breakfast in front of Qin Feng, and now they wanted to take him away without so much as a courtesy. Shu Yajing demanded: “What is going on here?” “Officer,” one officer said, pulling rank, “The Director has instructed us to escort him to the detention center.” Usually, under such circumstances, subordinates would simply comply with a superior's order—even someone deeply committed to justice. Shu Yajing didn’t back down—instead, she issued a firm command: “This person must come with me to my office—he has an important call to make. I’ll personally explain it to Director Ma.” With that, she grabbed Qin Feng just as he was about to eat his breakfast and led Fang Fang and the three officers up the stairs. The officers stood motionless—this was clearly defying the director’s authority. What could they do now but rush to report this to their superior? Qin Feng had anticipated Shu Yajing would call, knowing how significant the name Wei Qingtian held in China—the average citizen might not recognize it, but for a police officer like Shu Yajing, it was unmistakable. With a calm and steady tone, Qin Feng picked up the receiver: “Hello, is this Wei Qingtian? You don’t need to ask me why I know—just look up one place, and you’ll understand. Given your position, you should have immediate access to the spy satellite network. Very well—I won't hang up. I’m waiting for your response—the coordinates of that location are…” When the Isle of Death exploded, signal-blocking equipment scattered over dozens of miles around also lost functionality—once the coordinates were correct, military satellites could immediately pinpoint it. A few minutes later, Wei Qingtian’s voice came through again: “Young man, I’ve seen it now. Based on markers left behind on the wreckage, it's clear that this was indeed the Isle of Death. How did you know?” Qin Feng presented his condition: “I can tell you—on one condition, you’ll also help me with something.” Wei Qingtian responded immediately: “Of course—I’ll personally contact the Minister of Public Security and have him issue an official directive. After all, it’s just a matter of knocking out a few members of the local underworld. What more could be expected from those people? They’ve always deserved that kind of treatment. Thank you very much, young man—now I can finally sleep soundly.” Please share This book comes from