Ji Chenjiao had limited contact with various dark web networks and wasn’t familiar with their divisions of power. A few years ago, a multi-national joint operation had wiped out a batch of illegal networks, and most of the ones that sprang up afterwards were new organizations.

“Brother, as far as I know, ‘Fuguang’ has been around for years, but it’s always been half-dead. Not many people used it for transactions, and it barely made any money. The international operations didn’t bother cleaning it up because it was too insignificant. But this caused a strange phenomenon—the big dark web networks have been destroyed, and the new ones are under heavy surveillance, while this one survived unnoticed until now.”

“It’s no surprise that Ji Nocheng got scammed out of his cryptocurrency, because most of the active users on ‘Fuguang’ are con artists—take the money and do nothing. What puzzles me is why he chose ‘Fuguang’ at all. If it were me, I’d have picked something bigger, like ‘Project Completion’ or ‘Heaven’s Blessing.’”

Ji Chenjiao recognized the latter two names. They were new dark web networks that had emerged after the last multi-national crackdown and were already spreading havoc in some countries. He asked, “What’s the background of ‘Fuguang’?”

Shen Qi shook his head. “No one knows. The trades on there are like kids playing house. After all these years, no country’s police ever bothered to study it—it’s just not worth it.”

Ji Chenjiao felt this might be a lead. He went to the detention center and waited for Ji Nocheng in the interrogation room. When Ji Nocheng saw him, he immediately hunched his shoulders and refused to meet his eyes.

“How did you find ‘Fuguang’?” Ji Chenjiao asked.

Ji Nocheng was stunned. “Zhou… Zhou Yun told me.”

“How did she know about it?”

“She heard it from someone.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. Someone gave her an access link.”

It wasn’t possible to access a criminal network just by casually searching online. Even if you knew the name, without an entry point, you couldn’t get in. When Ji Chenjiao pressed further about how Zhou Yun got the access, Ji Nocheng couldn’t answer—and he didn’t seem to be lying.

This was odd. Who would deliberately give Zhou Yun access to ‘Fuguang’? And why specifically ‘Fuguang’? Did they know about the difficulties the Ji couple faced? But instead of helping them, they seemed to have toyed with them.

So what was their true purpose?

Ji Chenjiao handed the access information to Shen Qi. But the access point had already been used and was now useless—unreachable and untraceable.

A chill ran down Ji Chenjiao’s spine. It felt as if the string of cases wasn’t just being manipulated by Jaco, but also by an entirely unknown force, pushing mystery after mystery his way.

Who was it? What did they want?

Just as the Major Crimes Unit arrived in Liyun City to verify Ji Nocheng’s claims, Jaco suddenly reappeared—online. And the platform he used was, surprisingly, also ‘Fuguang’!

“Officer Ji, how are you feeling? I’m feeling great, thanks to you for catching the man who killed my mother.”

Jaco sent a video that was twenty minutes long. In it, he wore a dark blue windbreaker, a baseball cap worn backward. His previously shoulder-length hair had been cut into an ordinary men’s style. Facing the camera, he smiled—a very different image from his past appearances. No more foundation, no contouring; he showed his natural East Asian complexion and features, along with a bare, surgery-altered face.

Ji Chenjiao silently watched the video, his right hand clenched into a fist, lightly resting against his chin.

“You’ve probably been looking for me for a long time, huh? Sorry to disappoint you—you’ll never locate me through this video. Because…” Jaco chuckled arrogantly, “you cops could never be a match for ‘Fuguang’.”

“Feeling proud now, are you? You cracked a twenty-year-old case thanks to the Fengyi Villa incident? But that was my doing! You’re just a dog on my leash. I tug you toward Tongqie County, and you go sniffing at Tongqie County!”

Shen Qi was fuming, but Ji Chenjiao stayed as cold as ice.

“Curious what happened at that party? Yes, I killed Kang Wanbin. I told him—I know what happened between him and Xu Yinyue. I told him I was Xu Yinyue’s son. Guess what? He got emotional! He actually still liked my mother—even after all these years! That scumbag!”

“I lured him to the fishery lake to settle things. He didn’t hesitate—came right away, even wanted to make amends, give me money. I came back from Country Y… for money? Hell no. What I wanted… was the lives of the people who hurt my mother!”

Jaco’s eyes blazed with fury; his speech quickened as he described killing Kang Wanbin—like an addict reliving a high. He’d pushed Kang Wanbin into the lake over and over. Drunk, head injured, Kang couldn’t climb back to shore—and drowned.

“But I didn’t expect someone would take the blame for me! How can there be such idiots in this world? I left traces on purpose—what, you think that was a mistake? But some fool just had to meddle!”

“That guy, Yao Jue, right? I’ve seen him. And that ‘Jiangbin’s Dream’—he took the blame for Yao Jue? What a joke. Self-righteous idiots. Shows how much people hated Kang Wanbin, huh?”

“Oh, by the way—even though you’ve caught the killer of Luo Wanwan, I need to make something clear. I never touched Luo Wanwan. Never even thought of killing her. I only take revenge on the guilty.”

Jaco took off his cap, smoothed his hair, and said, “I know you’re digging up my mother in Liyun City. Putting her to rest. But she didn’t rest peacefully. I hope you’ll bury her properly. She was the only innocent person in this whole affair.”

“And one more thing—Ji Nocheng killing Zhou Yun wasn’t part of my plan. Officer Ji, you can’t blame me for that. It’s just human nature—so weak under temptation. I never intended for Zhou Yun to die.”

“Oh, and what was Ji Nocheng saying? Shame I can’t see you interrogating him. To keep you from believing only his side, I’ll tell you my story.”

Jaco was born in Tongqie County in winter—a so-called “child out of wedlock,” scorned by everyone. But in his early years, there was no cold—only spring. Xu Yinyue was just as people said: strong, smart, and graceful in the face of gossip. With her seemingly fragile shoulders, she gave Xu Jiajia a home.

Xu Jiajia never knew who his father was. Xu Yinyue had promised to never tell—even him. Once, he asked, “Mama, why don’t I have a dad? Who is he?”

Xu Yinyue kissed his forehead. “Mama will give you all the love your father couldn’t. My Jiajia is as good as any other child.”

Their life seemed hard, but in truth, those were Xu Jiajia’s happiest days. Xu Yinyue took him to visit an elementary school in town, promising that when he was old enough, she’d enroll him there.

But that day never came.

That winter, Xu Yinyue said she’d go to the market to buy lamb—good for staying warm. Xu Jiajia waited at home, and waited. The sky turned dark; she didn’t return. Then there was a knock at the door. He thought it was her—forgot her key—so he hurried to open it.

Standing outside was a stranger.

Ji Nocheng covered his mouth and nose with a cloth. He lost consciousness quickly. It felt like he slept forever. When he woke, he was in a hospital. He didn’t know who he was. The people around him were strangers. They said he was an idiot—and he dazedly wondered, what is an idiot?

He took many pills every day. He didn’t know what they were. But the more he took, the more he forgot. He was always tired. Always wanted to sleep.

Ji Nocheng visited him a few times. But mostly it was Zhou Yun. Once, she held him in her arms, her face streaked with tears. Something made him think of his mother. He softly called out, “Mama.”

Zhou Yun stiffened—like thunder had struck her—then broke down sobbing. She kept saying, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

Sorry for what? He couldn’t understand.

Some time later, he still couldn’t remember anything. One day, he overheard Zhou Yun and Ji Nocheng speaking outside the door:

“Send him to the orphanage. He’s already stupid—he won’t be able to hurt you.”
That was Zhou Yun’s voice.

But Ji Nocheng said, “What if he remembers everything?”

Zhou Yun sobbed, “You’ve already killed his mother. Are you going to ruin this little child too?”

Not long after that, Ji Nocheng sent him to the orphanage. Later, he was adopted and left his homeland, moving far away to Country Y.

In Country Y, he received proper treatment and gradually began to recall some things—memories that twisted his character further. He remembered his gentle, strong mother, the always tearful Zhou Yun, and… Ji Nocheng, the man who had killed his mother!

He remembered everything. It turned out that after Ji Nocheng drugged him that day, he had actually woken up several times. But Ji Nocheng, afraid he’d speak nonsense, kept drugging him over and over, which caused his amnesia and temporary mental dullness.

The thought of revenge began to sprout in his heart. But at the time, he was too young to understand how to take revenge.

As he grew older, the urge for vengeance only intensified, and his plan became more complete. He underwent plastic surgery, completely broke away from his adoptive parents, and after returning to the country, he discovered that Ji Nocheng and Zhou Yun had adopted a child—one they had raised with great care—who had now grown into a police detective.

His excitement was overwhelming. What revenge could be more satisfying than having this child personally arrest Ji Nocheng?

Jaco let out a sharp, maniacal laugh, glaring into the camera as if looking straight at Ji Chenjiao through the lens.
“Officer Ji, the life you’re living should have been mine! Ji Nocheng committed crimes against me and my mother, yet used you to atone for his sins! You stole my life! Do you think that’s fair?!”

“If I had grown up in a happy home, I could’ve worn a police uniform just like you, serving justice! But did I ever get that chance? Ji Nocheng stole it from me! He owes me compensation, not you!”

“Does it hurt, Officer Ji? To suddenly realize you’re just a tool to Ji Nocheng? That he never truly loved you—his love was only guilt for me! You’re nothing! Hahaha! This is what you deserve! Why should you enjoy the life that should have been mine for all these years?!”

At the end of the video, Jaco was completely unhinged, lamenting the cruelty of fate and blaming Ji Chenjiao for everything that had happened to him. Yet back then, Ji Chenjiao had also been a helpless child, unaware of who his real parents were.

Ling Lie came over, switching off the video that had been replayed countless times. “Stop watching. He doesn’t truly hate you—but he wants to destroy you.”

“I know,” Ji Chenjiao replied.

“Oh?”

“He hates Ji Nocheng, but breaking me gives him pleasure.” Ji Chenjiao remained calm, analyzing Xu Jiajia’s true intentions. “Throwing Ji Nocheng in jail won’t be enough for him. Even the death penalty would only be a shallow form of justice—never enough to truly pay for everything. But I… someone completely ignorant, who lived happily because of his misfortune… he wants to see me crushed, broken.”

Ling Lie raised an eyebrow. “He underestimates our Captain Ji.”

Ji Chenjiao lowered his eyes, silent.

Ling Lie said softly, “You do seem a little affected.”

Ji Chenjiao took a deep breath and gave a bitter smile. “It’s impossible to not be affected at all.”

Ling Lie dragged a chair over. “Then let’s change the subject. What’s your next step in this investigation?”

Ji Chenjiao asked back, “What do you think of Xu Jiajia’s account of Xu Yinyue’s death?”

Now, regarding Xu Yinyue’s death, Ji Nocheng and Xu Jiajia each gave different statements. Ji Nocheng insisted Zhou Yun had instigated him—testimony that might lessen his sentence. But Xu Jiajia avoided mentioning Zhou Yun and claimed Ji Nocheng had intended to kill him too, only spared because Zhou Yun had a guilty conscience and begged Ji Nocheng to send him to the orphanage instead.

Ling Lie looked into Ji Chenjiao’s eyes. “Do you believe your foster mother was innocent?”

Ji Chenjiao was silent for half a minute. “Xu Jiajia’s story has flaws. I really wanted to believe him when he said that killing Xu Yinyue was all Ji Nocheng’s idea, and Zhou Yun was merely aware but uninvolved. But this logic doesn’t hold. Ji Nocheng killed Xu Yinyue to secure a place in the Zhou family—and wanted to kill Xu Jiajia too. If Zhou Yun was so kind-hearted that she stopped him from killing the child, how could she live peacefully beside a man who dared murder his ex-girlfriend and her son? Wouldn’t she have been terrified?”

Ling Lie said, “Zhou Yun’s dead now—the law can no longer punish her. But Ji Nocheng is still alive, and Xu Jiajia wants him to get the death penalty. So of course everything Zhou Yun did will be blamed on Ji Nocheng too. But the more likely truth is—they were partners in crime. Only by working together could they have lived in peace all those years.”

This wasn’t the answer Ji Chenjiao wanted—but perhaps this was the cruel truth.

Meanwhile, Shen Qi was working all night to track Xu Jiajia’s location using the video uploaded via ‘Fuguang.’ Although Xu Jiajia had boasted that the police would never find him through ‘Fuguang,’ Shen Qi had narrowed the search to Hedong District in Xiarong City. A team was already on its way.

And so, ‘Fuguang’ officially came into police focus. Had this lurking dark web network finally started moving in the country?

“I also find something else strange,” Ling Lie said. “What Xu Jiajia did after returning to China makes sense… but how did he learn so much about the Ji family while still abroad?”

Ji Chenjiao said, “Someone was helping him?”

A hand guiding Xu Jiajia on his path of revenge. A hand toying with Ji Nocheng. And the dark web ‘Fuguang’—surfacing at last—turned this seemingly clear case murky once more.

Shen Qi worked through the night and confirmed Xu Jiajia had been hiding in Helan Community in Hedong District. But when the Major Crimes Unit raided the place—they found nothing. He was gone.

That summer’s largest rainstorm hit Xiarong City. By afternoon, dark clouds churned like the sky itself was falling into night.

“The video was uploaded last night—from right here!” Shen Qi stood soaked in his raincoat at the empty 10-2 apartment of Building 9 in Helan Community. “So strange. If Xu Jiajia was so sure we couldn’t find him through ‘Fuguang,’ why did he run?”

Helan Community, near Xiarong City’s famous tourist spot, was full of vacation rentals. Landlords, eager for business, often skipped formalities—just took a deposit without checking IDs.

The landlord rushed over, shocked by the scene. “The tenant’s a criminal?!”

Ji Chenjiao checked surveillance footage. Xu Jiajia had appeared five times, but each time his hairstyle and makeup were different; he always wore a mask and a baseball cap. He dressed inconspicuously—hard to recognize him as streamer Jaco.

“Is this him?” Ji Chenjiao showed a screenshot.

The landlord nodded frantically. “Yes! He said he was traveling from Southeast Asia. Paid in cash—quite a lot. I didn’t think much, so I rented to him.”

“Which day?”

“Let me think… Tuesday!”

Tuesday—the third day after Xu Jiajia vanished from Tongqie County. Somehow, he’d evaded the police and returned to the ‘safest’ place—watching every police move from right under their noses.

Ji Chenjiao paced the room. The rain poured heavily, soaking his shirt and uniform pants, making him uncomfortable.

The apartment had two bedrooms, a living room. Fresh vegetables, tomatoes, pork, eggs in the kitchen—Xu Jiajia had been cooking here. The TV was on local Xiarong news—keeping track of the case’s progress. In the study was a laptop—not the landlord’s, so it had to be Xu Jiajia’s.

As they waited for it to boot, Ji Chenjiao frowned. If Xu Jiajia sensed they’d find him—why leave his laptop behind?

“Even stranger,” Shen Qi cracked the password in moments. “If he was so confident, why run? And if he really ran—why not take his laptop?”

The desktop was a generic landscape. Shen Qi dug deeper—found the ‘Fuguang’ access point—but like Ji Nocheng’s, the link was dead after use.

Shen Qi clenched his fists, eager. “I’ll take this back for analysis.”

Ji Chenjiao asked, “Any other browsing history?”

Shen Qi opened the logs—his expression darkened. The top search term was “Ji Chenjiao.”

“That guy’s disgusting,” Shen Qi muttered. “Lurking in the shadows, spying on people. Don’t let it get to you, brother. Good people still exist—like me.”

Seeing the search results, Ji Chenjiao’s heart sank—but Shen Qi’s words lightened him a bit. “Oh? Like you?”

“I watch you openly,” Shen Qi grinned. “And I openly watch Brother Lie too.”

Ji Chenjiao chuckled, patted Shen Qi’s chair, and returned to the living room.

The suspect had been found—yet mysteriously vanished again. Digital tracking and data analysis had just begun; field searches were also urgent. Liang Wenxian was about to organize a search when he noticed Ji Chenjiao’s pale face. “Captain Ji, are you unwell?”

Ji Chenjiao hesitated. “No.”

“Your face and lips are white.” Warm-hearted Liang Wenxian cared for all his colleagues like spring sunshine. “You rushed here in the rain, didn’t you?”

Ji Chenjiao smiled faintly. “What’s a summer rain?”

Liang disapproved but decided against using the kitchen—Xu Jiajia had used everything. After a moment, he gave up and sighed, kettle in hand, as Ji Chenjiao went downstairs to check the neighborhood.

The site search was complete. Food, prepaid rent, remaining luggage—all suggested Xu Jiajia hadn’t planned to flee. But he was gone.

Wearing a raincoat, Ji Chenjiao stood in the pouring rain, his gaze growing colder.

Could something have happened to Xu Jiajia?

Ling Lie had mentioned it before—Xu Jiajia’s entire revenge operation had gone far too smoothly. It wasn’t impossible that Xu Jiajia was truly clever and resourceful, but he was just one man, who had lived abroad in Country Y for many years. Before returning to China, how could he have learned so much about the movements of people like Kang Wanbin and Ji Nocheng? It felt like someone was behind him, pushing him along.

The video Xu Jiajia had sent to the police through “Fuguang” was both a provocation and a means to conceal his true location. Could that hidden hand be connected to “Fuguang”? Had his sudden disappearance also been orchestrated by “Fuguang”?

This criminal organization was too mysterious—impossible to grasp even the slightest clue for now.

His raincoat was useless. Ji Chenjiao couldn’t calm his restless mind; suddenly he felt dizzy. When Liang Wenxian asked if he was feeling unwell earlier, he hadn’t told the truth. Getting soaked in the rain was indeed nothing to him, but his body was unwell—his limbs felt sore and heavy, every movement was difficult, and his head throbbed painfully, as if needles were stabbing into his temples.

He steadied himself and pressed hard against his eye sockets, trying to gather his strength—but even that small motion made his body sway.

For no reason, he suddenly remembered when he was in elementary school, practicing relay races in the rain with a few classmates. They had trained desperately in the downpour and all caught colds and fevers afterward. The others went home happily, glad to take sick leave. But he hadn’t wanted to tell his foster parents—he forced himself to go to school until he finally collapsed in the afternoon. The teacher called home, and Zhou Yun rushed over, eyes full of worry.

In that moment, he had felt both guilty and strangely happy. He knew he was loved—that he had a warm, real home.

Zhou Yun had taken him to the hospital for IV fluids, stayed with him the whole time, then gone home to make light fish porridge for him. That night, she sat by his bed until he fell asleep.

Ji Chenjiao’s headache worsened; his eyes stung and swelled with heat. Why was he thinking of the past now?

All the care and affection he had received were nothing but compensation for crimes—a way for Zhou Yun and Ji Nocheng to ease their guilt. He was merely a tool for their self-satisfaction. And yet… that love, that care, had been real to him. Without their teaching and influence, the darkness in his nature might have surfaced during adolescence. Would he have ever made it to the police academy? Come this far?

But the kindness between husband and wife, the understanding between parent and child… why had it all been false? Everything had been wrong from the very start. So had everything he once possessed also been false?

His stomach churned violently—he suddenly felt like vomiting. He clutched his chest and pressed his forehead hard, trying to calm himself. But his body wobbled even more; his vision and hearing blurred.

Was it just the heavy rain…? Who was that figure running over? Ji Chenjiao squeezed his eyes shut to clear his vision. But the moment he did—the last thread of consciousness snapped, and everything went dark.