Chapter Thirty-Six: Reconnaissance and Counter-Reconnaissance

Zhou Shu was well aware that the Special Police’s responsibilities were vast—counter-terrorism, taking on heavily armed criminals, rescuing hostages, and so forth—but they certainly did not include dealing with “monsters and demons.”

He’d never heard of Special Police working alongside extraordinary individuals like Zhang Peng, someone who surpassed even world champions, let alone acting under his clear command.

It all seemed, whichever way he looked at it, like a specialized task force from a work of speculative fiction, created to handle supernatural and unusual events.

Still, although they were “mixed” with the Special Police, their true purpose remained the handling of exceptional incidents. In today’s world, where everyone was glued to their mobile phones and could record anything at any time, it wouldn’t be surprising if someone had secretly filmed a clip and shared it within a small circle.

As long as there was the slightest clue, Zhou Shu was confident he could track them down.

If he could even discover their base of operations, that would be ideal.

In the end, Zhou Shu wanted to visit the scene once more.

He knew full well that the group from last night would have cleaned up thoroughly, but nothing compared to seeing things first-hand; his two previous plans couldn’t offer the direct understanding that being on site could provide.

Even if the bodies had been removed, traces of the battle must remain. By examining the evidence of the fight, he could deduce much.

He even considered that, should the group still be there, it might be worthwhile to approach them directly.

Last night, he’d done quite a bit to rid himself of suspicion. After all, he’d just fought a humanoid monster and was on edge; when the operatives arrived, especially with another “superhuman” present, he instinctively sought to protect himself, regardless of which side they were on. Aside from seeming more human, the newcomer was little different from the monster he’d just defeated.

In the online novels Zhou Shu had read, whenever the protagonist gained a “golden finger,” there was always a period of anxiety: Should the authorities know? What if they were captured and dissected for research? Readers understood, of course, that authors wrote this simply to make the protagonist feel unsafe and thus motivated to grow stronger.

In reality, being sliced up like sashimi would never happen. Scientific research was never so crude—at least, not domestically.

Since the Spring and Autumn period, “extraordinary individuals” had found themselves employed as advisers, guests, and consultants by the major powers of China. They were talents everyone sought.

Abroad, things weren’t so certain. Many countries had a history of such things, and they really had done them.

It wasn’t limited to extraordinary people—even ordinary citizens had been “sampled.” In those countries, whenever the government encouraged vaccinations—something meant to save lives—why was the public so resistant?

Because people were afraid. They feared, above all, becoming test subjects once again, for reasons they’d never understand.

The Zhang Peng Zhou Shu had met last night was undoubtedly powerful—someone unseen in any world-class competition—yet with a single phone call, he could summon a team of obvious national operatives, who obeyed him without question.

Given these facts, Zhou Shu concluded Zhang Peng must be an extraordinary figure specializing in “man-eating monster” cases.

Since Zhang Peng’s abilities were exposed, yet he remained unscathed and in high standing, then as long as Zhou Shu didn’t reveal all his powers—just a portion, like his self-named “Slow-Motion Vision”—there shouldn’t be much risk.

There might, in fact, be significant benefits.

And if he truly faced an event as momentous as one civilization invading another, he couldn’t handle it alone.

In such circumstances, cooperating with the world’s second most powerful nation—his own—seemed like the best choice.

He pondered these things over breakfast, unaware that someone nearby, apparently playing on their phone while eating, was actually stealing glances at him from time to time.

Meanwhile, outside the breakfast shop, three men sat in a black sedan, deep in conversation.

The driver looked steady and composed, while his companions—one in the front passenger seat, one in the back—were more lively.

“Li just sent an update,” the driver said, glancing at his phone and then at the breakfast shop. “No anomalies yet, except that he’s got quite an appetite. He’s ordered a lot of food, so he shouldn’t be leaving anytime soon.”

“That’s good,” said the man in the passenger seat. “Should we alert the stairwell team and have them check out his apartment?”

The driver didn’t turn, continuing to watch the breakfast shop. “No rash moves. Await orders from above.”

The man in the back seat, more observant than the others, scanned the area outside and checked his phone. “Nothing suspicious among those entering the complex—same at the entrance. Looks just like any regular community.”

He then leaned forward, peering between the front seats. “Hey, Captain Zhuang, Lao Liu, did you hear? The tech guys are saying it might be a powered exoskeleton. Do you think that’s possible? Could we have our own Iron Man?”

“If that’s true, fantastic. If he’s willing to join up, I’ll transfer to his team immediately!”

“I doubt it,” Lao Liu, the man in the passenger seat, replied, turning his head. “If such equipment existed, we’d be the first to use it. Besides, who told you that? I heard he’s another one like Captain Zhang—a superhuman.”

“That’s what the tech department says,” the man in the back—A-Liang—crossed his arms and leaned back, continuing, “Why not just ask the target directly? We’re not an evil organization—we’re the Demon Suppression Bureau! And with the perks Captain Zhang’s team gets, if only I had powers… I’d have joined ages ago.”

“Enough, A-Liang, less chatter. Following procedure is for our own safety,” Captain Zhuang in the driver’s seat said, glancing at him in the mirror. “The tech department still needs to study the mutant from last night and reconstruct the scene in detail. We don’t even know if he’s our target yet. Don’t mess things up.”

“Tch.” A-Liang was unconvinced. “It’s always the same with these encounters. Our local extraordinary folk aren’t like the paranoid ones overseas. We haven’t had an incident at the contact stage in over a decade…”

“Enough, you always talk too much on missions. Keep watching,” the driver said, shooting him a glare.

“Yes, sir…”

At first, Zhou Shu was unaware he was being watched. But as he finished breakfast and walked home, he began to feel the weight of multiple gazes—attention from every direction.

Before, such a feeling would have made him glance around in confusion. But after last night, he’d grown wiser.

Instead of looking directly, he took out his phone and pretended to take selfies, scanning for suspicious figures behind him.

But if he was cunning, the people monitoring him were even more so.

They were professionals. At the first sign of his maneuver, they knew they’d likely been exposed. Within a second, the “observers” became “ordinary passersby.”

So Zhou Shu’s sweep with his phone revealed nothing—just a tall, athletic woman jogging past.

Likely a resident of the community.

Frustrated, he returned home, still puzzled.

Meanwhile, that same athletic woman stopped by a blossoming sapling, raising her phone for a selfie. In her screen, besides herself and the flowers, Zhou Shu could be seen entering his building.

She spoke quietly into her phone: “Captain Zhuang, I think we’ve been made. Zhou Shu’s definitely suspicious.”

Captain Zhuang’s voice came through immediately: “Pull everyone out. Go home and write self-criticisms—all of you! Supposedly the elite of the Demon Suppression Squad, and you can’t even tail a high schooler. Withdraw naturally—don’t spook the other residents!”

“…Understood.”

Then another cheeky voice came through: “Hey, Lingling, you guys need help? Should’ve let me do the surveillance—”

Click—she hung up, ending the call.