Holding the original shares, they fought all the way to the Korean War!

Hata Shunroku looked up at him.

Kenzo Sato did not turn around. He had his back to Shunroku Hata and spoke in a low voice, as if he were stating something trivial.

"The people from that intelligence station of the Military Intelligence Bureau mentioned a detail during the interrogation."

"They said that when the higher-ups were investigating the murderer, they analyzed the Taiyuan incident and this incident together."

"The methods used in the two incidents were highly similar, but the Military Intelligence Bureau ultimately did not reach any conclusions."

He paused, as if to confirm whether he should say what he was about to say, and then continued:

"However, they mentioned a direction."

"Some people suspect that the two incidents were not committed by the Military Intelligence Bureau or the Central Bureau of Investigation and Statistics, but there is no evidence to suggest that the Eighth Route Army was behind them."

"The Special Higher Police did not pursue this direction further."

"Because there's not enough time."

"But if there is another opportunity in the future, this direction may be worth sending someone to investigate in depth."

After saying this, he pushed open the door and walked out without waiting for Hata Shunroku's response.

The door closed gently behind me, and the footsteps faded away along the corridor, disappearing around the corner at the end.

Shunroku Hata sat alone behind his desk.

His gaze lingered on the documents on the table for a long time.

He was silent for a moment, then picked up the pen on the table and wrote a few words on a blank sheet of paper.

The Eighth Route Army.

He wrote those three words, then put down his pen, put the page in the drawer, and didn't look at it again.

After half an hour.

Kenzo Sato returned to the headquarters of the Special Higher Police.

He pushed open the door to his office.

The house was empty.

He closed the door, walked behind his desk, sat down, and placed the dagger on the table.

He stared at the knife and remained silent for a long time.

He didn't know which corner the killer was hiding in, or whether any of the people he had captured were truly valuable targets.

All he knew was that it would all end today.

Kenzo Sato picked up the knife.

He heard people occasionally walking by in the corridor.

The footsteps approached and then receded again, but no one stopped in front of the door.

Those subordinates probably already guessed what was going on.

The head of the Special Higher Police was summoned by the commander, and upon his return, he shut himself in his room.

Anyone can understand the meaning behind this silence.

Kenzo Satoh placed the knife on the table and began unbuttoning his military uniform.

He moved slowly, unbuttoning his coat piece by piece from top to bottom, taking it off, folding it neatly, and placing it on the back of the chair.

Then he unbuttoned his shirt collar, revealing his chest.

He sat back in his chair, straightened his back, picked up the knife again, and drew it from its sheath.

He thought about many things.

He wondered when he had started hunting those people in this city.

I thought of the last look in the eyes of the prisoners he captured and executed.

He realized that in those seven days he had barely closed his eyes, hadn't eaten a proper meal, and hadn't slept a full night.

He thought of the gunshots that afternoon.

I thought of Hata Shunroku's calm and expressionless face.

He also thought of home, and of some hazy images from long ago.

But he didn't let those images linger for long.

He took a deep breath and then slowly exhaled.

He gripped the knife handle with both hands, blade facing inward, and pressed it against his abdomen.

That moment was very short, but it felt incredibly long to him.

Then the room fell silent.

It was so quiet, as if nothing had happened.

About half an hour later.

The door was gently pushed open.

An adjutant stood in the doorway, his gaze sweeping across the room before he silently took two steps back and closed the door behind him.

His footsteps faded quickly down the corridor, heading towards headquarters.

When Hata Shunroku received the news, he was reviewing a routine document concerning the redeployment of the North China Area Army.

After listening to his adjutant's report, he remained expressionless, simply putting down his pen and leaning back in his chair in silence for a moment.

"understood."

He didn't say much, only those two words.

The adjutant stood at attention, saluted, and turned to leave.

The door closed behind him, and the office returned to silence.

Hata Shunroku sat there, his gaze fixed on the documents on the table, but he wasn't actually looking at them.

He was thinking about the seven-day manhunt, about the three groups of people who were executed, and about the direction mentioned in Kenzo Sato's last words.

The Eighth Route Army.

He didn't know why he was so concerned about those three words.

There was clearly no evidence, and both the Military Intelligence Bureau and the Central Bureau of Investigation and Statistics had already ruled out any suspicion.

But that word was like a thorn stuck in my brain, impossible to pull out or suppress.

He remained silent for a long time, then picked up the pen on the table and began to write a report to headquarters.

He did not write down the words left by Kenzo Sato, but only wrote that the head of the Special Higher Police had taken full responsibility.

The manhunt has come to an end; further details will be provided later.

After he finished writing it, he read it over again to make sure the wording was correct, and then had someone send it to headquarters.

Early the next morning.

The atmosphere in Shanghai has undergone some subtle changes.

Most of the temporary checkpoints were removed, and the military police patrols on the streets resumed their normal rotation frequency.

After the roadblocks were removed, the streets became clear again.

As more pedestrians appeared, rickshaws and bicycles once again crisscrossed the alleyways and street corners.

The entire city seemed to be slowly recovering from a high fever to a normal temperature.

In the courtyard behind Rongji Grocery Store.

Liu Ping sat down at the stone table and let out a long sigh of relief.

He noticed that the noise outside the alley had decreased significantly since this morning compared to the previous few days.

He could sense that the storm had finally passed.

Although he didn't know the specific details, nor how many of those arrested would come back alive.

But he read the same thing from the change in wind direction.

The Japanese have given up!

Or rather, they gave up for the time being.

He stood up, walked to the door, and glanced at the alley entrance. Everything on the street seemed normal.

Liu Ping withdrew his gaze, turned around, and walked back into the courtyard.

My own line of communication in this city is safe for now.

Liu Ping sat on the stone bench for a while longer.

Then he stood up, pushed open the courtyard gate, and went out.

He stopped at a cigarette stall by the roadside and bought a pack of cigarettes.

While paying, I glanced at both ends of the street corner to make sure there were no tails.

He then turned and walked towards Old Shen's auto repair shop.

Old Shen was squatting next to a tricycle, tightening screws, his hands covered in grease.

He didn't even look up when he saw Liu Ping walk in; he just said something casually.

"The tire is flat and needs to be patched. If you're not in a hurry, you can wait a bit."

Liu Ping leaned against the door frame, lit a cigarette, and smoked it slowly, as casually as if he were waiting for a customer to have his car repaired.

About the time it takes to drink a cup of tea has passed.

Old Shen straightened up, wiped his hands with a dirty cloth, and gestured towards the backyard.

The two walked into the backyard one after the other. Old Shen closed the back door and asked in a low voice.

"The noise outside has definitely subsided. How's it going on your end?"

Liu Ping stubbed out his cigarette and nodded.

"Send a telegram tonight to let them know that the storm has temporarily passed, so they are aware of the situation."

Keep the wording brief, just report that everything is alright.

Old Shen didn't ask any more questions, just responded and turned to go back to work.