Chapter 33: The Lin Family’s True Colors

By the time news of the attack at Sixth Middle School in Heyue City reached Zhang Ze, it was already evening. Fiddling with his phone, he frowned and asked, “Brother Wang, have you heard about the incident at Sixth Middle School in Heyue City?”

“Mm—”

“It’s those cultists,” came Wang Chao’s hoarse reply, his voice simmering with fury.

Over the past few days, Zhang Ze had learned a fair bit about these so-called cultist martial artists. In his mind, they were no different from the terrorists of his previous life, spreading bizarre doctrines wherever they went. Wang Chao often mentioned them, and Zhang Ze had looked up recent national attacks on his phone. Though the news never spelled it out, he could sense that these incidents all had cultist martial artists behind them.

Now, with the Sixth Middle School case, Zhang Ze couldn’t help but wonder.

“Brother Wang, tell me, why do these cultist martial artists even exist? Our country’s education system is top-notch—why are people still drawn to this?”

Wang Chao gave a short, derisive laugh at Zhang Ze’s question. Soon, he replied, “It’s got nothing to do with education. Anyone can feel fear—especially when facing an undefeatable enemy.”

With a long exhale of smoke, Wang Chao glanced at Zhang Ze’s puzzled face and smiled faintly.

“An undefeatable enemy?” Zhang Ze seized on the phrase. For a moment, he felt as if he understood, but couldn’t quite grasp it fully. “What undefeatable enemy? Isn’t the international situation fairly peaceful?”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Wang Chao said, brushing off the question.

Just then, Zhang Ze’s phone chimed with a message from Fatty.

“Is this the cultist you were talking about?”

It was a video, with a voice message from Fatty attached.

“Let me see—” Wang Chao leaned over as well.

“It sort of looks like him, but I’m not sure,” Zhang Ze mused, studying the video.

Finally, he decided to call Fatty directly.

“Where did you see that guy?”

A fit of coughing came from the other end before Fatty answered righteously, “Didn’t you tell us to track this guy down in Mengyang County?”

“We didn’t sleep a wink all night, Huang and I, but we finally found him for you—”

“Enough, just give me the details,” Zhang Ze cut in, fully aware of Liu Fatty’s habits—he probably hadn’t slept, but whether he’d been working or playing was another matter.

…

When the call ended, Zhang Ze’s expression was grave.

“There’s a problem. The hotel in the video is the same one Lin Ziwei is staying at.”

“The Lin family would dare associate with someone like that?” Wang Chao assumed outright that the person in question was a cultist.

“It’s hard to say. But from what Brother Huang said, the person might be connected to that reporter’s death,” Zhang Ze murmured, pacing the room.

“Let’s wait for now. Even if he’s not a cultist, he’s likely a murderer.”

Wang Chao quickly put the pieces together. “No need to guess. Tell Huang Ming to keep tabs on him—a little probing and we’ll know for sure.”

With that, Wang Chao dialed Huang Ming’s number.

Zhang Ze, silent on the side, still felt unsure. “The guy does look like the cultist I saw in Heyue City that night. If it’s really him, and he’s at the hotel, maybe he’s not here to meet the Lin family.”

“Of course not,” Wang Chao said with certainty. “No matter how rotten the Lin family is, they wouldn’t dare touch those people. Associating with cultists is a matter of principle!”

“So all we need now is to confirm the identity of the woman in the video,” Zhang Ze concluded.

Another chime. A new message.

“Xiao Ze, the woman in the video appears to be Lin Ziwei’s secretary. Brother Huang just saw her leave the hotel with Lin Ziwei,” Fatty’s voice came through the phone.

“That settles it. The dirty work must have been handled by Lin Ziwei’s secretary—she took the money and dealt with Huang Xu,” Wang Chao said at once.

In his mind, the Lin family, for all their faults, would never dare consort with cultists.

“So it really wasn’t a cultist?” Zhang Ze mumbled. Despite his doubts, he was now almost certain he’d mistaken the man’s identity.

“Tell them to leave the reporter’s case alone. The Detective Bureau will handle it,” Wang Chao instructed, always keen to avoid a direct clash with the Lin family.

…

A knock sounded at the door.

“Gentlemen, Uncle Long and Uncle Blind are asking for you.”

A young man, seeing Zhang Ze and Wang Chao, spoke softly.

“All right, I understand.”

“Tell them to leave that matter alone for now. Let’s go see Uncle Blind and the others,” Wang Chao reminded Zhang Ze.

Nodding, Zhang Ze followed Wang Chao to Erlong’s room.

As soon as they entered, their eyes landed on a man in a suit.

Erlong stood and explained, “This is Mr. Jia Yao, our former supplier. He said he’d like to meet you.”

Wang Chao’s displeasure was clear—he’d always hoped Zhang Ze could avoid getting caught between the Lin and Qian families at this stage, and now he was annoyed at Erlong’s arrangement.

Seeing Wang Chao’s change in demeanor, Erlong, his back to the man in the suit, looked apologetic.

Zhang Ze, understanding, let it go. After all, Erlong had a family to think of—he couldn’t afford to offend the Qian family.

“Hello, Mr. Jia.”

Now that he’d figured things out, Zhang Ze was unconcerned.

“Heh—” Jia Yao smiled. “Such promise at a young age. I didn’t expect you to be so capable, Mr. Zhang.”

“But I do wonder, who is the wise mentor behind you, one who recognized your talent at a glance?”

“Not at all. I’m nothing compared to Miss Qian—she took over the Qian family’s medicinal trade before she was even twenty,” Zhang Ze replied.

The two exchanged pleasantries, but nothing of substance was said.

After dinner, Jia Yao took his leave.

…

Once his car left Changping Village, Jia Yao dialed Qian Xiaoyun’s number.

“Miss—”

“Well? Did you figure out who’s backing him?”

Jia Yao lowered his voice. “He’s young, bold, but his words and actions are slippery—couldn’t get anything out of him…”

He couldn’t deny a hint of shame. As the Qian family’s trusted man, in charge of all medicinal dealings throughout the county’s villages—transactions worth tens of millions each year—he prided himself on his networking skills. Yet even he had met his match in Zhang Ze.

After a brief silence, Qian Xiaoyun spoke again.

“I understand, Uncle Jia. Get some rest. I’ll handle the rest.”