Chapter 9

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Chapter 9: Evidence

“You are currently violating Federal Law Article 318. Surrendering now might result in a lighter punishment. Oh, by the way, that last part is just a formality. Even if you surrender, I’ll probably still beat you up.”

At a factory on the southern side of Fanzui City, a peculiar figure dressed in strange white attire squatted atop a pile of steel beams, overlooking two groups of “brothers in crime” conducting some sort of deal below.

Nearby, a high school student lay unconscious, apparently knocked out with a baseball bat. One of the long-haired criminals seemed ready to test some kind of substance on him.

The white figure’s outfit was striking: a dazzling white combat suit, a large hood covering their head, and a silver mask that concealed their entire face, including the chin. Their not-so-oversized robe failed to disguise a height of about 1.7 meters and a notably lean physique.

They resembled the kind of superheroes you’d see in comics or TV dramas—and in truth, the resemblance wasn’t far off. However, this “superhero” didn’t spend their days swinging around cities or responding to bat signals. Instead, they were part of a special federal police unit.

Anomaly Enforcement Unit.

Among criminals, they were given a nickname akin to “the fuzz”—Foboler.

Maintaining anonymity was crucial because they dealt with either armed criminals involved in illegal trades or fellow mutants who had turned into super-criminals. These were usually well-organized crime groups.

If their identities were exposed, there was always a chance that their homes would be targeted while they were on duty. You couldn’t expect such ruthless criminals to follow any kind of moral code when seeking revenge.

The group of criminals, clearly displeased with this unexpected appearance, raised their guns toward the figure, who was preventing them from experimenting on the unconscious high school student.

“Damn it, these cunning scumbags refuse to surrender,” the figure muttered in an androgynous voice, sounding exasperated.

Gunshots rang out, muffled by the pouring rain, and the smoke from the gunfire was quickly washed away. These criminals evidently didn’t realize that an anomaly officer without a firearm was the last person you wanted to mess with.

The white-clad figure simply stood still as bullets veered off course before reaching them, no matter how dense the gunfire was. Without a shred of urgency, they jumped off the steel beams and began walking unhurriedly toward the criminals.

Five minutes later, the criminals were all sprawled on the ground, groaning in pain.

The figure in white pulled out a communicator.

“This is White Whale. I’ve just apprehended a group engaged in illegal trading at the electronics factory. They were dealing in something called N1202. This is the fourth case this month, right? Oh, and there’s an unconscious high school student here who was about to get hurt but hasn’t been harmed yet… If you ask me how I got here, I’d say it was by accident—I was just trying to make it to school two hours early for once.”

Behind her, one of the criminals, enduring the agony of his injuries, picked up a gun with his cuffed hands and fired a shot directly at the back of White Whale’s head.

Without even turning, White Whale reached back, catching the bullet mid-air just before it reached her head.

With a flick of her hand, she sent the bullet flying back toward the shooter. The used bullet, despite being “secondhand,” struck with the force of a round fired from a gun, eliciting a blood-curdling scream.

“One of them accidentally shot themselves in the leg. Report complete.”

“Send me your location. We’ve got another case here. The suspect seems to be the same one as last week. Want to take a look?” came a voice from the other end of the communicator.

“Send someone to pick me up,” White Whale replied. Otherwise, she’d never find her way there.

—

“The deceased is Xiao Shuai, male, 33 years old, unmarried. Previously an employee at a Fortune 500 seafood corporation, he later became a worker at a fish shop for unknown reasons. He had a history of assaulting his mother to the point of severe injury. Recently, there was an anonymous report accusing him of kidnapping.”

The speaker was a square-faced police officer who appeared to be in his forties. With a tie on his chest, a keyring at his waist, and a thermos in hand, he exuded the air of a senior police official.

White Whale: “Good riddance.”

“…Remember your role as a police officer,” the square-faced officer said, giving her an exasperated sidelong glance.

White Whale quickly clenched her fist. “Curse the vile murderer! So, what’s the cause of death?”

“Cause of death: dissection,” the officer replied with a completely deadpan expression.

White Whale: “??”

“Have young people today lost their sense of humor?” The square-faced police officer sighed.

“Remember your identity as a police officer!” White Whale shot back.

“From the records, there’s no doubt that he was scum, just like last week’s victim. The job was clean—no clues left behind.” The square-faced officer spoke expressionlessly. “Preliminary speculation suggests the perpetrator might be someone acting as a vigilante, specifically targeting people like him.”

“A group of immature brats forming an organization.” The medical examiner, having finished examining the corpse, chimed in. “They think they can take the law into their own hands and judge others as outlaws.”

“Can we see the scene he witnessed before his death?” White Whale turned to a tall, blonde girl wearing a half-face fox mask.

The blonde girl shook her head. “No, same as last time—it’s too blurry. It could be the work of multiple ability users, or maybe a group effort: one handles the killing, another conceals the evidence.”

At this moment, a young and attractive female reporter, followed by a cameraman, crossed the police line.

“Officer, regarding this case…”

“No comment.” Two police officers approached impatiently to shoo them away.

“Officer, the public has the right to know. Is this case connected to last week’s murder?”

“Move along, move along! Do you know it’s illegal to cross the police line?”

Four or five police officers stepped forward and began escorting the reporter and cameraman away.

“Does the killer’s continued freedom mean the police condone vigilante actions?”

“What measures does the police have against the repeated vandalism of city surveillance cameras?”

The female reporter’s voice grew more distant as she was led away.

“If you don’t respond to her, you’ll be her headline tomorrow,” White Whale muttered with disdain, watching the reporter’s retreating figure. “Now, what’s the victim’s cause of death?”

“Same as last week: a foreign object suddenly appeared in the victim’s heart without any external wounds. It’s likely the work of a spatial ability user. However, among the registered ability users worldwide, the number who could pull this off is fewer than five.” The medical examiner produced an evidence bag.

“Spatial manipulation is a difficult power to control. Ninety-nine percent of spatial ability users can at most teleport themselves to places they can see—and even then, they can’t bring clothes with them. Last week, the killer used a plastic bottle. This week, it’s something gentler—a pen.”

White Whale took the evidence bag, her eyes narrowing slightly behind her mask.

Inside the bag was a pen, stained with blood. This was the object that had suddenly appeared in the victim’s heart, causing instantaneous death.

Compared to last week’s plastic bottle, it was indeed gentler—especially considering that last week’s bottle was a large one.

What made this case more intriguing was the pen itself. It had a red outer shell, but through its transparent body, the ink inside was visibly black. Additionally, the clip on the cap was broken off.

“Are there fingerprints on the pen?”

“None.”

White Whale studied the pen thoughtfully.

“How interesting,” she murmured.

—

Retrieve items from the system’s storage space and designate their placement.

Taking a life was just that simple. It was something completed under Sasha’s guidance, who claimed she had figured it out herself in the past.

The maximum range was five meters, and the object would appear in the left side of a person’s chest. For an ordinary person, it was guaranteed to be fatal.

“Master, you should try to avoid using this technique on others… well, considering you’re part of a black organization now, at least don’t use it on anyone outside your targets,” Sasha said in a worried tone, her voice echoing in Mi Xiaoliu’s mind.

“Why?”

“If it hits, it’s nearly impossible for anyone to survive. If you accidentally kill someone you didn’t intend to, you’d regret it… Though the Master probably doesn’t understand the deeper implications now, Sasha would never harm you.”

“…Okay,” Mi Xiaoliu muttered, lowering her head and continuing to study with the umbrella in her hands.

“Well done,” Wei Shi said. However, despite his words, his expression betrayed some displeasure.

This was because it meant he really had to lead two kids—one more inexperienced than the other—to complete future missions.

“Spatial ability? Well-used.” He gave Mi Xiaoliu a slight look of approval. But the girl was too absorbed in studying why the umbrella had flipped inside out to notice him.

Mi Xiaoliu had never told him how she killed her targets. That information was something he had found in the envelope Mi Xiaoliu had brought with her.

Just earlier that morning, this boss had appeared as a blue-haired boy who looked even younger than Mi Xiaoliu. Now, he was a tall, middle-aged man with red hair. Not only was he completely unrecognizable from before, but there wasn’t the slightest similarity between the two appearances.

Even his voice had changed, though his tone of speech remained exactly the same.

“What about me? How did I do?” Hayato eagerly leaned over, pointing to himself with a grin.

“Ask her,” Wei Shi replied, nodding toward the purple-haired elder sister.

He hadn’t even bothered to pay attention to what Hayato had been doing.

“You didn’t follow orders, but overall, not bad,” the purple-haired woman said, typing their information into a notebook on her lap. It was unclear how she had managed to observe the mission since she hadn’t even left the room.

Wei Shi walked over, he casually closed the notebook on her lap, and handed each of them a bank card.

The cards were identical to Mi Xiaoliu’s own: issued by the Fallen City. While not officially recognized by the Federation, they could still be used at Federation banks.

“This is your payment. Each card has 30,000 on it. Don’t be surprised—some lives are only worth that much.”

As for the document… Well, that was worth a lot more. But all that money went to him as the leader—it was tradition in the organization for rookie missions: the leader always took the bigger share.

“Let me make this clear upfront: don’t go around thinking things like, ‘I’m only killing those who are guilty’ or ‘I’m delivering justice to those the law couldn’t punish.’ Those kinds of childish ideals don’t belong here. The moment we pick up the knife, we’re scum too.”

“Ever watched ‘Detective Conan’? No? Seriously? That was from my era of anime. It’s probably still airing even now, and you’ve never seen it?”

Wei Shi’s expression grew even more irritated as his failed attempt to use “the organization” as an analogy sank in.

“Anyway, our business is simple—pay us, and we’ll do anything. The organization doesn’t have too many rules, but we do. For example, no killing pregnant women. And…” He turned to glance at Mi Xiaoliu, who was still fiddling with her umbrella. “No killing children.”

The purple-haired woman shot Wei Shi a look, then set down the notebook in her hand.

“Each month, the higher-ups assign us tasks. You can choose whether to participate or not. But if you go a whole month without taking part in even one mission… heh.”