The darkness of night made the alley entrance feel oppressive. There were few streetlights, and the nearest one was broken, a dead moth stuck inside its lampshade.
Luo Yang retracted his presence as much as possible. He stayed half a block behind Qiu Shubai, his shadow creeping along the base of the walls.
The figure ahead turned at the third corner, the ashen-white tips of her hair flickering in the shadows of the alleyway.
This place is hidden quite deeply.
Luo Yang clicked his tongue inwardly. Since leaving through the academy’s back gate, they had made countless turns. It was so convoluted that he had begun to wonder if the girl had noticed him.
However, Qiu Shubai’s pace remained steady, her shoulders relaxed. She didn't look like someone who knew she was being followed; she was simply using the most reliable method to shake off any potential tails.
They entered an even narrower dark alley flanked by low, old houses. Most of the plaster had peeled away, revealing the dusty gray bricks beneath. An unidentifiable scent lingered in the air, reminiscent of a pickling jar that hadn't been changed in far too long.
At the very end of the alley stood a rusted iron door, its frame bulging with layers of reddish-brown corrosion. The handle was equally rusted and wrapped in several layers of black tape.
Qiu Shubai paused before the door. Without knocking, she pushed it open and slipped inside.
Luo Yang stood in the shadows of the alley entrance, making no move to follow. He knew she had reached her destination.
He didn't dare extend his mental power too far. If there were any specialized equipment or top-tier experts inside, his probe would be easily detected.
A wooden sign hung precariously from the lintel, its characters long since faded into illegibility. Outdated housing advertisements and half-torn posters were plastered onto the walls on either side. Looking up, the second-floor windows were all boarded shut, leaving only narrow slits.
Luo Yang rubbed his chin. This place was certainly interesting.
It didn't look like the secret bases of intelligence organizations in movies—there were no high-tech cameras or infrared sensors hidden in corners. He couldn't even detect a decent energy circuit.
Instead, it looked like a secret liaison point for a guerrilla unit from one of those old war dramas he had seen before his transmigration.
So broken, so old, and so unremarkable. Yet, it was precisely such places that were the easiest to overlook.
The moment the iron door closed, Qiu Shubai scanned the interior.
Normally, there would be someone behind the counter, but today it was empty. She bypassed the counter and pressed her hand against a very inconspicuous small door behind it. Behind that door was a flight of stairs leading downward.
She reached the bottom and faced an identification device mounted on the wall. The sound indicating a successful scan was extremely faint.
The encrypted door opened inward. The familiar Uncle Zhang wasn't there. The middle-aged man who usually sat in the corner with an enamel mug, scrolling through tacky short videos, hadn't shown up today at all.
In his place stood a young man in front of a whiteboard. The whiteboard looked new, its surface so clean it didn't have a single scratch, and the metal legs of the stand gleamed with a sterile light.
The man had his back to the door, using a magnet to pin a photograph to the board.
Hearing the door open, he glanced over his shoulder.
It was a brief look, as if confirming who had arrived or perhaps gauging the speed of her entry. After looking, he turned back and continued fiddling with the photos on the whiteboard.
“Now that you’re here, have a seat.”
He spoke with his back still turned, his voice neither high nor low.
“We need to have a proper chat about your situation.”
Qiu Shubai gave a soft grunt of acknowledgment. Her gaze moved from the man to the long table in the center of the underground space.
Six chairs were arranged around the dark table, and two were already occupied.
Both individuals were wrapped in long black robes, their sleeves folded in front of them. Their faces weren't directly covered, but their sitting positions were clever—chins tucked, shoulders slightly turned—and the angle of the light was just right to prevent her from seeing their features clearly.
Qiu Shubai didn't ask who they were. She pulled out the nearest chair and sat down, her hands folded over her knees.
The young man didn't make them wait long.
He pinned the last photo to the center of the whiteboard and took half a step back, as if reviewing the composition. Then he turned around and walked toward the long table.
He looked directly at Qiu Shubai with his peculiar eyes.
At first glance, his pupils were pitch-black like a normal person's, with clear outlines. But after looking for a few seconds, Qiu Shubai noticed something off.
The blackness seemed to hide an extremely faint trace of white, like a drop of milk in a cup of ink—unnoticeable once stirred, yet the brain knew it was there.
“Liang Shen, Chief of the Internal Affairs Department,” he introduced himself briefly.
The Internal Affairs Department was one of the four major departments of the Special Division. While the Action Department handled external operations, the Intelligence Department handled information gathering, and the Technical Department handled research and development, the Internal Affairs Department alone dealt with their own people.
Internal disciplinary reviews, investigations into intelligence leaks, and the elimination of defectors.
Their power was immense, completely unconstrained by the other three departments, and they had the right to report directly to the Section Chief of the Special Division.
No one working for the Special Division, regardless of rank, wanted to cross them. Calling them the common jinx of the other three departments was already a polite way of putting it.
And today, the Chief of the Internal Affairs Department had personally appeared at the Yuanxing City liaison point.
Waves of unease rose in Qiu Shubai’s heart.
It seemed her resignation had indeed disturbed places that shouldn't have been disturbed.
“I’ve already reviewed your resignation.”
Liang Shen spoke without any preamble, as if they were just chatting in a teahouse.
“It’s well-written.”
Qiu Shubai didn't respond. She didn't know if it was a genuine compliment or sarcasm, so she chose not to judge.
“You are a key talent being groomed by the organization,” Liang Shen continued. “Now that you want to quit, it’s only natural for the higher-ups to jump out one by one to interfere. That’s normal.”
As he spoke, his fingers tapped twice on the edge of the long table in a slow rhythm.
Qiu Shubai finally spoke: “So, are you here to dissuade me as well?”
Liang Shen shook his head. “Quite the opposite.”
When he said those words, the corners of his mouth twitched as if he were about to smile, but the smile never truly formed.
“I sympathize with your situation.”
“I’ve seen your file. Your father’s situation, your family matters, and everything you’ve done in Yuanxing City these past few years. I must say, you are indeed a fine talent.”
“Staying in the Special Division is indeed not very honorable for you.”
He paused there, his gaze falling on the photos he had pinned to the whiteboard.
“This place is a bit too gray for a promising young person like you.”
Qiu Shubai was silent for a few seconds before looking up and asking, “Then what is the purpose of your visit today?”
Liang Shen smiled.
This time it was a real smile, though it didn't change the expression in his eyes.
“In principle, there is no such thing as ‘resigning’ from the Special Division. However, your identity and talent have happened to help us change our principles slightly.”
“So, we held a meeting.”
He pointed to himself.
“The meeting decided that I would ‘sign’ a confidentiality agreement with you. This is to ensure you won't reveal things to the outside world that shouldn't be revealed. Don't worry, it won't be to your disadvantage.”
Qiu Shubai’s eyes narrowed.
He had emphasized the word ‘sign’ very lightly, but the lighter the emphasis, the more it suggested the word didn't mean its literal sense.
A normal confidentiality agreement required a signature on paper, but what did his version of ‘signing’ entail?
The underground space fell silent for a few seconds, save for the whirring of the overhead vents and the extremely faint breathing of the two robed figures.
Liang Shen didn't rush her. He looked toward the two robed figures and spoke in a somewhat respectful voice, “Seniors, you may begin.”
The two nodded slightly and stood up simultaneously, their robes brushing against the chair legs with a dull friction sound.
Qiu Shubai’s fingers gripped her knees.
Before she could see what the two were about to do, a crisp notification sound suddenly echoed from outside the encrypted door that should have been perfectly sealed.
Beep.
It was the sound of verification passing.
The iron door opened inward, and Uncle Zhang appeared at the threshold.
He had clearly run all the way there. One hand gripped the doorframe while he doubled over, his chest heaving violently as he gasped for air.
Uncle Zhang’s gaze swept across the underground space and landed on the young man in front of the whiteboard. In the next second, he roared.
“Liang Shen, you bastard!”
The voice was loud enough to nearly shake down the cool white light overhead.
“Don't you know that technique hasn't even cleared its verification period yet?!”
The thin veneer of peace in the underground space was completely shattered by that shout. Liang Shen slowly turned his head toward Uncle Zhang. He placed the remaining magnets back into the whiteboard’s small tray before speaking.
“This wasn't a decision I could make alone.”
His tone was as steady as before, but there was something more beneath it—a subtle sharpness, like a dull blade scraping against bone.
“It was the will of the higher-ups.”
The muscles in Uncle Zhang’s face twitched.
Qiu Shubai still didn't move. She sat in her chair, her gaze moving between Uncle Zhang and Liang Shen before finally settling on the two robed figures who had already stepped within two paces of her back.
The two also came to a halt.
The air in the entire underground space seemed to solidify.
...
At the alley entrance, Luo Yang leaned against the wall, boredly counting the dead moths stuck in the broken streetlight. When his mental power swept toward the rusted iron door, he couldn't help but pause.
It wasn't that he heard anything; at this distance and with that thick iron door, he couldn't possibly hear a single word of what was happening in the underground space.
But he could sense a slight shift in the atmosphere, like several heavy stones suddenly sinking to the bottom of a pool.
“Hmm?”
He stood up straight and pulled his hands out of his pockets.
“Did the negotiations fall through?”
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