Gao Wu: I inherited the evil organization in the game

Chapter 698 Mystery
The taxi stopped in front of the hotel, which was not far from the location—an abandoned train station—making it convenient for her to observe and pick up the goods at any time.

She paid and got out of the car, dragging her suitcase into the hotel lobby.

The receptionist was a young woman with a professional, fake smile.
"Welcome! Do you have a reservation?"

Zhao Jingyi gave the name of her current disguised identity:

"Yes, the person who made the reservation is surnamed Dong, Dong Shuanghan."

The receptionist checked on the computer and quickly confirmed:

"Welcome, Ms. Dong Shuanghan. Your standard single room is on the 23rd floor. Here is your room key, room 2307. Have a pleasant stay."

The receptionist skillfully processed the check-in procedure and handed a room key to Zhao Jingyi.

Upon seeing this, a waiter who was waiting nearby immediately stepped forward and reached out to take Zhao Jingyi's suitcase: "Madam, this way please."

A smile appeared on Zhao Jingyi's face as she shook her head, while simultaneously tightening her grip on the suitcase handle.

"No need, thank you. The box isn't heavy; I can carry it myself."

Take the elevator directly to the 23rd floor, find room 2307, swipe the room card to unlock the door, and a soft "beep" sound will be heard.

Zhao Jingyi closed the door with a backhand motion, locked the inner safety chain, and then gently turned the extra deadbolt knob below the door handle.

She didn't rush to pack her luggage, but first quickly scanned the hotel room—the bed, table and chairs, wardrobe, and bathroom all looked normal.

Next, she laid the suitcase flat on the side of the bed, unzipped the outer layer, and pulled out a palm-sized portable detector from the inner compartment.

When the detector is switched on, a faint blue light illuminates the screen.

Zhao Jingyi carefully scanned a corner of the room to confirm that there were no hidden cameras or similar devices.

Girls must learn to protect themselves when they go out.

It took her about ten minutes to finally focus her attention back on the suitcase.

He unfolded the suitcase and then casually pulled a thin blanket from the bed to partially cover it.

Then, she went into the bathroom, stood in front of the sink, and facing the mirror, gently peeled away the carefully crafted disguise from her face, along her hairline and jawline.

A faint hissing sound is emitted when the mask separates from the real skin.

Having not allowed her skin to breathe freely for so long, she felt that the pores on her face were stiff and numb.

She quickly washed her face, went back to her bedroom, stood by the window, slowly opened a crack in the window, and gazed into the distance.

The hotel's 23rd floor offers a remarkably expansive view.

Looking from her current position, the area where the coordinates are located—the long-abandoned train station area—appears unusually calm, even somewhat desolate.

No unusual personnel activity was observed, no blue and white car lights were seen, and there were no signs of martial law.

At least on the surface, everything seems normal.

"Maybe... I'm just overthinking it?"

Zhao Jingyi muttered to herself,
"The lockdown of District Nine may have other reasons, and it may not be targeting the mentor. If that's the case, the train station should be relatively safe, at least for now."

However, Zuo Bai's teachings came to mind again—"Never rely on 'should,' trust verification."

"We still need to find out what exactly happened in District Nine," she pondered.

Going directly to investigate the train station is too risky; we need a safer source of information.

Coincidentally, in District Nine, Zhao Jingyi did indeed know such a person, someone who might have access to information at a higher level.

The other party may not know all the inside information, but they certainly know more than a taxi driver on the street.

Thinking this, Zhao Jingyi took out a tablet computer from her backpack.

Instead of initiating a communication, she first connected to a USB flash drive-like encrypted relay device, disguising her real IP address to ensure the security of the communication link.

Then, she opened the encrypted messaging app and found the other person in her contact list.

After the communication request was sent, the tablet computer emitted a regular and lengthy "beep beep beep..." waiting tone.

While waiting, the suitcase covered by a thin blanket at her feet seemed to tremble very slightly at the edge, perhaps because she had accidentally bumped into it while walking...

....
Adjacent to the Maple Forest Hotel where Zhao Jingyi was staying, just across the street, stands a slightly old-fashioned building.

The neon lights on the "Yongye Parking Lot" sign on the ground floor of the building were broken in several places, flickering with incomplete light.

An inconspicuous black sedan slowly drove in, its tires making a slight creak as they rolled over the somewhat damaged slope.

The car stopped in a secluded corner of the parking lot and the engine was turned off.

The driver's side door was pushed open, and a man of medium build, wearing a gray jacket and with a somewhat weary expression common among government employees, stepped out.

It was that nameless man from the maintenance department.

He took out his phone, swiped his fingers quickly across the screen, found the number he had just contacted, and dialed it again.

"I have arrived."

There was a two-second silence on the other end of the phone before a voice, devoid of much emotion, asked in return:
"Only you?"

The man in the maintenance department was a little annoyed, but he still answered:
"That's right, it's just me."

The voice on the phone didn't reply immediately, but waited a few seconds before saying calmly:
"Wait, don't move. I'll send someone down to get you."

The man from the maintenance department was about to say, "No need for that. Just tell me the address or floor, and I can find it myself."

However, before he could even speak, the receiver went dead with a "beep beep beep..." dial tone.

He frowned as he looked at his phone, and couldn't help but spit out his drink:
"Damn, why are you being so secretive? Is it really necessary?"

Helpless, he could only reluctantly stuff his phone back into his pocket, stand still as instructed, lean against the hood of the car, and wait anxiously.

The parking lot was poorly ventilated and filled with a stuffy atmosphere.

While waiting, he subconsciously pulled out the pure white business card that Commissioner Zheng had given him from the inside pocket of his clothes.

He flipped and played with the business card between his fingers, its surface smooth yet slightly resilient.

There was no heading, title, name, or company logo on it; it was clean and plain white, with only a phone number as the sole identifier.

If it weren't for the fact that this business card was given to him by Commissioner Zheng Geng, and that he didn't know where Commissioner Zheng got it from, he would never have obediently waited here like a fool; he would have left in anger long ago.

To put it bluntly, behind those business cards are people who do the dirty work. Even if it's a congressman's black glove, it's still someone who can't be brought to the table.

Even if he is not as important as a member of parliament, he is still a formally employed official of the government.

The longer the men in the maintenance department waited, the more annoyed they became, feeling deeply offended. Time ticked by.

five minutes……

ten minutes……

There was still no sign of anyone coming to meet them.
The man in the maintenance department frowned deeply, his impatience almost overflowing. He looked up, his gaze sweeping around his surroundings.

Upon closer inspection, he suddenly realized that this underground parking lot was significantly different from most of the parking lots in District 9 that he remembered.

There are too many cameras!

It is important to know that in District 9, due to a variety of complex reasons such as budget, privacy disputes, and power struggles among various parties, the proposal for the "Sky Eye" surveillance system has been shelved since it was first put forward.

Therefore, in the entire District 9, except for certain particularly important or sensitive buildings that have relatively complete surveillance and security systems installed, most public places do not have cameras.

But in front of us, this rather old-looking parking lot had load-bearing pillars, wall corners, and every nook and cranny of the ceiling...

One, two, three, four... fifteen, sixteen...

The maintenance worker hadn't paid much attention before, but now that he realized what was happening, he silently counted the cameras and was secretly shocked by what he saw—everywhere he looked, there were countless surveillance cameras of various models.

Just as he looked up and around, he saw that all the cameras had silently adjusted their angles and were all pointing at his location.

It was as if countless eyes hidden in the shadows were scrutinizing and analyzing his every move through his glasses, even capturing the subtle changes in his facial expressions.

For no apparent reason, a chill crept up the spine of the man in the maintenance department, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

A chill ran down his spine, and almost instinctively, his right hand reached for the car keys, wanting to open the car door immediately.

But his reason ultimately prevailed over the urge to run away. He remembered Commissioner Zheng's instructions and the potential for merit and promotion that this matter might bring.

He forced himself to stand still, but the anger in his heart was like dry tinder doused with oil, rising rapidly and almost bursting out of the top of his head.

A voice suddenly came from behind him:
"This way!"

The anger on the man's head in the maintenance department was instantly doused with cold water, and he abruptly turned his head to look behind him.

"When?! When did he appear behind me?!"

The man in the maintenance department suddenly narrowed his pupils to pinpoints, and what came into view was a middle-aged man in a black suit.

The other person's face was so ordinary that it was almost unremarkable, except for a very conspicuous, penetrating scar in the middle of his lips, which looked like an ugly centipede lying there, adding a sense of danger to his whole being, like that of a desperate criminal.

The man from the maintenance department had a face so dark it could drip water. He suppressed his shock and anger, and questioned the man in an unfriendly tone:

"You...have been watching me from behind the surveillance cameras all this time?"

The man in the suit ignored his question, neither denying nor admitting it, and his scarred lips repeated clearly once more:

"This way."

The man from the maintenance department frowned, and before he could speak, the other person handed him an eye mask.

The maintenance worker's gloomy gaze swept over the blindfold, and he had already guessed the other party's intentions. A feeling of being offended surged into his heart again.

He asked the question knowing the answer already, his tone laced with suppressed anger: "What does this mean?"

The man in the suit remained as taciturn as ever, uttering four cold words:

"Cover your face and keep up."

The men in the maintenance department almost laughed out of anger:
"Are you kidding me? I..."

He had barely uttered a few words when the man in the suit made a move to turn and leave.

The man from the maintenance department immediately fell silent, quickly snatched the blindfold from the other man's hand, and secretly sneered inwardly:
"Very well, the senator's black gloves are indeed impressive, his airs are just as high as the senator's."

Upon touching the eye mask, one feels an unusually cold sensation, unlike the softness of ordinary fabric.

The surface of the eye mask is not completely smooth; it is covered with an uneven texture, like a strange pattern sewn onto the surface with special thread, or... the complex circuit outline of some kind of microchip printed under the fabric.

The man in the maintenance department put on a blindfold and immediately felt his vision completely plunged into darkness. His mind became muddled, he lost his sense of direction, and he couldn't even tell which side his left or right hand was.

The hand didn't speak, because in this state, even if someone told him to go forward, backward, left, or right, his senses wouldn't be able to make the correct judgment.

Fortunately, that hand seemed to be able to accurately sense the changes in his body's center of gravity.

A force, not particularly strong but just right, came from his palm, subtly shifting his center of gravity slightly.

He couldn't say whether, at this moment, his own consciousness or the guiding signal transmitted by this hand controlled his body's movement.

In short, his steps began to move naturally, following the shift in his body's center of gravity.

He couldn't tell how far he had walked, whether he had gone in a straight line or around a bend, or whether he was going up or down stairs.

The sense of time also becomes blurred; perhaps only a minute or two has passed, or perhaps more than ten minutes have already gone by.

When he felt the hand on his shoulder move away and heard a simple "that's enough," he couldn't wait to tear off the blindfold from his face.

The light returned to my field of vision, bringing a moment of sting and disorientation.

Once his eyes adjusted to the light and he could see his surroundings clearly, he realized that he was in an unfamiliar corridor.

There were no windows on either side of the corridor, and it was unusually narrow, barely allowing 1.5 people to pass through. If someone was too fat, they probably wouldn't be able to squeeze through.

Just like in the underground parking lot, this narrow corridor is also densely covered with silent rotating cameras at both ends, covering every inch of the corridor space in all directions without blind spots, recording every little move of the intruder.

He was led by a man in a suit and walked about twenty or thirty meters through the narrow passage.

Finally, at the end of the corridor, a gray-white metal door appeared.

He looked up at the small sign hanging on the door, his steps faltered slightly, and a look of surprise flashed across his face.

The sign reads four characters: "Relief Studio".

The man in the maintenance department's lips twitched involuntarily, a feeling of utter absurdity welling up inside him:
"What the heck? These days, even black gloves are getting such... poetic names?"

The man in the suit didn't knock. He reached out and pressed his finger on the fingerprint scanner next to the door. With a soft "beep," the lock popped open.

He pushed open the door, stepped aside to let the men from the maintenance department go in, but remained outside like a gatekeeper.

The man from the maintenance department took a deep breath and stepped inside.

As soon as he entered, a wave of extremely cold air hit him, making him shiver involuntarily.

The temperature inside the room dropped by at least seven or eight degrees compared to the corridor, as if I had instantly stepped from room temperature into a freezer, and goosebumps immediately rose on my skin.

(End of this chapter)