Forge a path to success

"It's so late, have you eaten yet?" Trek asked. "There's no restaurant up ahead. If we go any further, it'll be considered trespassing."

The streetlamp flickered for a moment, and in that instant of darkness, the Demon of Oblivion shot out like a hawk. Its spear swept across the area beneath the streetlamp, inscribing a spell that erased memories. A colorless light emanated from the barrel of its cannon, and a powerful beam of energy shot straight towards the house at the end of the road!

Then the streetlights came on again, and the Forgotten Demon froze. It remained in the same charging posture, but was forced to kneel down. Trek was sitting on its back, using it as a convenient chair.

Its cannon was pinned to the ground by a wooden crossbow, a level 5 relic weapon, yet it was shattered in a single exchange!

Trek rummaged through the meager amount of noodles left in the bowl, clicking his tongue in disapproval: "I warned you guys..."

A cold glint flashed in the ruthless demon's eyes, as if it were about to fire, but its superior acted even faster. The tyrannical demon appeared behind Trek, its twin hammers slamming down simultaneously, countless sharp, blood-soaked spikes bursting from them. It cared nothing for Forgotten's life or death, intending to crush Trek and Forgotten together.

Its blood hammer struck directly, shattering the man's lower body into pieces with a single blow. But behind the tyrannical demon, a chilling silence reigned, for Trek stood leaning against his back, the body he had shattered a forgotten memory that hadn't even had time to react!

“That’s why young people these days just won’t listen to advice. Uncle Trek, I’m a policeman, and I represent ‘justice.’” Trek raised his right leg high. “Why are you racing against justice? Justice might be absent…”

"But it will definitely not be 'late'."

The tyrannical demon instantly retreated, flying 1,700 kilometers from under the streetlights to the bustling commercial district of the Third Order. But the first thing it saw after its relocation was Trek's smile. That kick had struck him squarely in the heart, sending the tyrannical demon flying backward like a rag doll!

The tyrannical demon crashed heavily against a wooden wall. This was impossible, for he had been attacked high in the air; even if he were thrown back by the impact, he would only crash into the clouds. Yet he had indeed struck a solid wall, the wall of a narrow, filthy little room, with rusty iron chains hanging from it.

He was kicked into... a cell!

Trek smiled and waved from the doorway, then the heavy door closed silently, leaving only darkness for the tyrannical demon.

In this darkness, no lights will occasionally come on.

Beneath the streetlamp, the ruthless demon turned without hesitation, its long fur revealing thousands of eyes glaring angrily, releasing a light that clouded the very space. However, it crashed head-on into a paper bag, the back of which bore a talisman drawn with sweet bean sauce.

It instantly detached from the man's body, becoming ethereal, and disappeared into the talisman like a phantom. The possessed man collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

Ji Qiufeng flicked the talisman, then stuffed the remaining bite of pancake into his mouth with one hand. Just then, Cui Ke appeared under a streetlamp and frowned upon seeing him: "So sloppy~~~"

"What you said really makes me feel complicated." Ji Qiufeng tossed the talisman to him. "It's about a combat strength of 4 points, which is the top in the Fantasy level."

“The fifth team has to write a report tomorrow.” Trek said gloatingly. “You’re really something. I’ve been investigating for so long without any results, but after trying your method for less than two days, everyone is rushing to contribute.”

"Some people are born this way. You can leave them there and do nothing, and fate will come knocking on their door," Ji Qiufeng said with a smile. "Don't you think so, Heng Kong?"

A third shadow emerged from under the streetlights, and Chu Hengkong stepped out from the shadows, looking helpless.

"You've become addicted to using me as a fishing rod."

“How can you call it fishing? You’re demonstrating your excellent character and contributing to maintaining the city’s security!” Trek patted him on the shoulder. “Young man, you’re so cautious at such a young age. You’re much more reliable than your Uncle Ji was back then.”

Old Octopus was the first acquaintance of Van D that Chu Hengkong encountered, and also a long-time member of the "Twilight Library." Logically and personally, he should have a good chat with him. However, he hadn't expected to witness such a scene so soon after catching up, and the two senior figures were well-prepared, so he didn't need to put in any extra effort.

“Hengkong, leave this to us for now,” Ji Qiufeng said. “You’re too close to Fan De; knowing too much is not a good thing.”

"Okay." Chu Hengkong nodded. "What about Fenya?"

“I sent it to recuperate; it’s now in the safest place in the Thorn Robe.” Ji Qiufeng thought for a moment, “Perhaps the safest place in the Senluo Secret Realm.”

Chu Hengkong didn't dwell on it and turned to leave. The tide of fate was what it was; knowing too much about the secrets Fan De and Fen Ya were hiding wouldn't do him any good. These matters weren't his concern as a mere point 3; when his abilities improved, trouble would naturally come to him.

"What a kind heart!" Trek exclaimed. "Professor Vlataari, is there anything you'd like to say?"

The old octopus walked out of the hut, his face clearly showing his indifference.

"Ask whatever you're curious about. I was cursed just like Vande, and I don't remember much. If you boil me, you still won't know."

“It’s much easier now that you’re cooperating.” Trek walked up to it and suddenly asked, “Was the Inspiration Mushroom your own idea?”

"what?"

Fulatari had been preparing for a long time, but unexpectedly, this was the question he wanted to ask. He replied blankly, "Yes, yes."

"Let me confirm one more time," Trek said, enunciating each word clearly. "Was the Inspiration Mushroom a tool you developed through your own independent thinking? Did anyone else offer you suggestive or other misleading insights?"

“…No.” Fulatari said, puzzled. “Even if I’m weak, I’m still a demon. How could I not notice the temptation on my body?… This is just inspiration drawn from discussions about creative tools, with a little personal bias added.”

“I see.” Trek nodded. “Then, regarding the second question, my men lost track of a large order while investigating the Inspiration Mushrooms, with the estimated transaction volume ranging from 300 to 500.”

“I do remember this… It must have been a wealthy businessman who saw a business opportunity and bought a large number of samples to take for analysis,” said Vlatatali. “The agent who came to buy the mushrooms was very cautious, but judging from his accent, he seemed to be from Mansacinburg.”

Trek nodded and took a step back: "Official business is settled, now it's time to do personal work."

Ji Qiufeng stepped forward, flicked his folding fan, and smiled, "Then please tell us about the 'Twilight Library'..."

(No updates for the next two days, will resume on Thursday~)

Everyone's May Day holiday is over, and the author is also taking a short break. Wishing everyone a happy holiday!

Chapter 285 A Girl as Soft as Velvet (1)

The day after the Inspiration Mushroom column was published, the poet Sriel arrived as scheduled. This time, he brought a violin, and the tune he played was particularly uplifting, like the ending music after defeating an enemy in an old game.

“True feelings reside within books, and only when the pen touches the heart can it truly resonate.” After hearing the whole story, Sriel concluded with this statement, “Longing and emotion are the true essence of creation, and no matter how time flows or how the world changes, this is an eternal truth. Detective Chu sees things so clearly, how can I not applaud him?”

Ji Huaisu was slightly surprised: "You're actually quite satisfied? I thought you were going to protest if you didn't burn the mushrooms."

Why should living beings entangle themselves with inanimate objects? People have differing opinions about mushrooms these days, and a stagnant atmosphere is unlikely to last.

Sriel jumped onto a chair, pointed at Chu Hengkong, and laughed, "The poet is in high spirits right now, so the next piece will surely be excellent. Detective, please tell us your stories, and I guarantee the song will be even better than the story!"

"let me see……"

Chu Hengkong fell into deep thought. He and his boss had been through many things, but some of them were not suitable to talk about with others, nor were they all so profound that they were unforgettable.

In terms of creative work, he was never good at grasping the "key points," so he had to first recall them carefully in his mind.

Like turning a rusty spring, rewinding a videotape to a distant past. The film may have aged with time, but the people and events of the past remain vivid, carrying the memories of a wild, youthful life.

·

Ten years ago, in New York.

The cell phone on the table buzzed, and the ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts vibrated in response. Chu Hengkong, a cigarette dangling from his lips, wondered who could be calling him at this hour.

He has two cell phones, one for work and one for personal use. The takeout restaurant only calls his work phone, while his underworld informants occasionally call his personal phone to arrange a sparring match when friends are itching to play or someone comes to his shop. Apart from that, the other phone only rings once a month on the first of the month, when Old Master Chu's family checks in on him.

The Chu family didn't like him much, but because of the old man's influence, they would always ask him if he needed anything.

Today's number didn't fall into either of those categories. He'd been waiting for forty seconds, but the phone kept vibrating persistently. He waited a while, cigarette in hand, until the call automatically disconnected and went to voicemail. The other party hung up. Then, the phone started vibrating again.

He seems to be a very patient person.

He stubbed out his cigarette, answered the phone, and said in Chinese, "Who is this?"

“I am Vilbert,” the young girl said.

He paused for a moment before remembering that it was the girl from two months ago. He had left his personal phone number afterward, worried about potential complications.

But Chu, being oblivious, couldn't help but kill a whole roomful of people for Vieille that very night. Not long after, a bunch of luxury cars pulled up in front of the mansion like they were attending a funeral. A group of elderly men and women with long eyebrows and beards rushed out of the cars and ran to the little girl, wailing and crying. They were speaking in broken Italian, which I couldn't understand, but judging from their expressions, they were probably saying things like, "This old minister deserves to die! I've wronged Your Majesty!"

After finishing, she turned around and thanked him profusely, her expression as grateful as if she had seen Superman descend from the sky to save the last emperor from dire straits and revive the nation's fortunes. She said she wouldn't accept money but still stuffed two boxes of gold bars into his wardrobe, which are now gathering dust in his closet.

Anyone would think this was the end of it. The last emperor had returned to the palace, and the remaining concerns were for the old ministers. What business was it of his delivering takeout? Perhaps the emperor was just bored and wanted to catch up with him?

"How have you been lately?" he said casually.

"It's alright," the girl said. "I'd like to ask you to deliver something."

"what to give?"

"Give it to me."

·

The Velus family's office building is located in downtown New York City, which is quite convenient; it's just a ten-minute walk from the rooftop. Although he was wearing a yellow delivery vest when he entered, the security personnel on both sides still bowed to him.

In the conference room on the 38th floor, Vilbert stared blankly at the map, while his old ministers sat on either side of the conference table, whispering amongst themselves, their expressions like those of someone watching an emperor being led to his execution. When he entered, they once again looked at him with the eyes of someone looking at a savior; it seemed these people genuinely thought the deliveryman was quite capable and wanted to beg him to become their general.

Chu Hengkong pulled up a chair and sat down: "Where to?"

"Ohio, about a nine-hour drive."

He pondered for a long time what kind of wretched place Ohio was, when Wilbert turned the map around and kindly pointed it out to him. "Here."

"This looks like a godforsaken, run-down place, not suitable for a spring outing," Chu Hengkong commented. "What are we looking for here?"

“Find the Russians,” Wilbert said. “Ohio is one of the largest Russian immigrant communities in the United States, and Cleveland, the Minonev family’s stronghold, is located there. They are one of Velus’s last remaining allies, and I need to talk business with the Russians.”

"It must be a big deal." Chu Hengkong took out a cigarette and lit it.

"I'm going to buy a batch of Russian arms to expand the family's military strength. It's no exaggeration to say that this deal will determine the survival of the Velus family."

Vilbert spoke casually, as if she weren't going to buy weapons, but rather to the bakery near the entrance for sandwiches. Today, she wore a pure black dress resembling a convent robe, the clothes exquisitely made, which, combined with her calm and indifferent face, made her look like a cool, aloof noblewoman.

"So some people don't want to see you close a deal."

"A lot of people."

"The Russians don't care?"

"Russians only do business with their allies, and I need to prove that I am qualified to be their ally."

Chu Hengkong glanced at his phone: "It's 2:45 PM now."

"The negotiations will begin at noon tomorrow, and we will drive to Pennsylvania to spend the night."

Chu Hengkong laughed. He really liked the girl's way of speaking; there was no unnecessary small talk, and she completely understood what he meant.

"I'll only take you with me; we'll discuss the payment later."

The veteran officials stood up immediately, but Vilbert nodded before they could: "What do you need?"

"Prepare some small pebbles."

The car he was using for this trip was a dark green Hummer, not the highest-end model, but it exuded power. Chu Hengkong patted the steering wheel happily after getting in; one of the perks of working for rich people was that you could drive luxury cars you wouldn't normally have access to.

His ID card and driver's license were kept in the car, clearly stating that he was eighteen years old. Wilbert had also prepared a pair of sunglasses so that he would look older than he was.

Violet sat in the passenger seat, carrying the marked map, and put on a black veil when she left.

"I'll give directions."

Chu Hengkong put on sunglasses: "Do I look like someone who can't find their way around?"

“I don’t think you’ve ever left New York.”

“You’re right.” He reached out and removed Violet’s veil, and the girl looked at him in surprise.

“You’re not a widow, why are you wearing a black veil? It makes you look gloomy.” He tossed the veil onto the back seat. “You’re lucky to have such a pretty face, you should show it off.”

Violet lowered her eyes: "...Thank you. But please be mindful of your manners."

"What etiquette? I've never learned it!"

He suddenly stepped on the gas, and the Hummer roared into the lane. Velbert was pushed back against the seat by the recoil. She was getting used to this guy's driving style.

Chu Hengkong followed the directions westward, choosing only side roads until he reached the national highway. According to the simulations in the conference room, an attack was highly unlikely within New York City, as the adversaries were hesitant even during the day. However, once outside the city and onto the national highway, they were no longer within the sphere of influence. An attack could come at any moment, in any way they couldn't even imagine.

“The most likely method is a car chase,” Wilbert told him. “Deploying helicopters is too expensive, and things haven’t gotten to that point yet. Snipers don’t have suitable observation points either. They’ll drive recklessly, smashing windows or detonating fuel tanks with bullets.”

“They won’t,” Chu Hengkong said.

"why?"

"At first, they didn't have time. After another half hour, they didn't dare to."

He suddenly swerved into the right lane, rolling down both windows. Before Vilbert realized it, a Ford sedan was already alongside them. In that instant, she saw the muzzle of a gun behind the window; the gunman in the knitted hat stared coldly at her.

She had never felt death so close. Unlike Lucas's meticulously planned attack, the real killer was cold and efficient; seeing them meant the end. Almost simultaneously, however, a hole burst in the window of the car opposite, the gunman fell backward, blood gushing from the center of his skull.

The Ford sedan went out of control, crashed into the guardrail, and tumbled off the overpass. Vilbert slowly turned her head; Chu Hengkong was holding the steering wheel with one hand, catching something in his other hand.

It was a small pebble.

The Hummer screeched to a halt, while another car full of assassins, unable to control its speed, roared forward. This time, she clearly saw Chu Hengkong's actions; he flicked his finger, sending a pebble flying out of the car and whistling into the vehicle in front, piercing the driver's skull.

He sped up to overtake the car in front before it went out of control, and a few seconds later Wilbert heard a dull thud from the collision.

"This thing is much better than a gun," the boy said boastfully.

She understood Chu Hengkong's confidence. The assassins would inevitably retreat because they were also human, and even the fiercest and coldest assassins would fear the power itself.

Even an assassin wouldn't dare to pursue an opponent who could kill with a stone; that's not a mission, that's suicide.

·

About five hours later, they arrived in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. The Hummer had more than a dozen bullet holes in it; the enemy was more persistent than the family's think tank had anticipated, and eventually even deployed a motorcycle convoy.

Even the most persistent pursuers, upon witnessing Chu Hengkong smash the motorcycle with a single punch, finally cried out and scattered in all directions.

"I've killed more people in one day than I have in the entire previous year," the boy joked.