I Am Your Natural Enemy

After all, Wen Yan wasn’t even from the Scorching Sun Department. Wen Yan could spout off whatever he liked, and wouldn’t represent the Scorching Sun Department either way.

Of course, that Scholar Tu had no idea about this.

Wen Yan put away his phone and immediately saw two brawny, muscular supervisors escorting a scrawny, shackled little monkey of a man into the room.

The supervisors forced the little monkey into a chair, then gave Wen Yan a slight smile.

”You go ahead and chat. We’ll step out for now. If anything happens, just hit the alarm, or shout for us—either way is fine.”

”Thanks for the trouble.”

”No need to mention it.”

Scholar Tu saw how polite the supervisors were to Wen Yan and had a sense right away that someone important had arrived. He shrank into himself, looking all skin and bones, like a damned junkie.

Scholar Tu’s eyes darted nervously, cautiously sizing up Wen Yan, while Wen Yan was sizing him up right back.

After a few seconds of silence, Wen Yan finally spoke slowly.

”Do you realize that so-called boss you keep mentioning... doesn’t exist at all?”

Scholar Tu was momentarily stunned, then pulled his mouth into a grin.

Wen Yan grinned right back at him.

”You know, you guys all like to laugh a lot. I just hope you’ll still be able to laugh in a minute.”

Wen Yan rubbed his head, thinking back—recalling something a Little Mustache said on the phone with someone when he ran into him in the tributary earlier.

”Between eight and nine in the morning on the 12th, Wangjia River Shiling Riverside. You go there. The target is a tiny little deer figurine.”

When Wen Yan said this, Scholar Tu immediately stopped laughing, a trace of shock flickering in his eyes.

He didn’t understand—how could this guy in front of him know, word for word, exactly what the boss said to him?

”Like I said—there’s no such boss like you’re talking about. It’s all in your head. You’ve robbed too many graves and finally ran into a goddamn ghost.”

”Who the hell are you? Trying to get me to confess with tricks like that?”

”Me? I’m nobody. Name’s Wen Yan. Do you know me?”

”Wen Yan from Virtue City. The whole Ghost scene has your name all over it.” Scholar Tu’s expression hardened, instantly becoming serious.

Say what you want, but the stuff he did meant he’d had his share of run-ins with Ghosts.

Of course he’d heard of Wen Yan.

There are two people in Virtue City that you really need to watch out for. One is Virtue City’s Great Killer Star—nobody knows his name, nobody knows what he looks like.

Because anyone who’s seen him just ends up seeing this shadow, all murderous intent and killing intent so thick it turns a person into pure darkness.

The other is Wen Yan—the one who killed five Great Demons in a row.

As a tomb robber, Scholar Tu obviously kept tabs on info like this—what places not to mess with.

Wen Yan scrutinized Scholar Tu, thinking, Little Mustache probably never mentioned it to him.

”Since you don’t believe me, let me ask you something. What’s your boss’s name, do you even know?”

”Of course I know...” Scholar Tu blurted out, but then his pupils suddenly contracted.

He actually couldn’t recall his boss’s name.

In fact, his whole mental image of the boss was starting to blur.

That face was now just a smear—he couldn’t remember what he looked like, only vaguely recalling the way he dressed.

”What the hell did you people do to me?!” Scholar Tu was getting panicked.

”Nobody did anything to you. It’s just, now that you’ve been brought here, this place blocks out a lot of things.”

”Impossible. I don’t buy it.” Scholar Tu’s composure was cracking fast.

After getting caught, his whole plan was just to spill what he had to spill, hold onto what he shouldn’t, slow-walk everything, drag it out—survive another day, that’s a win. His boss was still out there, so there’d be room for negotiation.

Wen Yan casually tossed his own phone in front of Scholar Tu.

”Scorching Sun Department’s phone, I’ve got pretty high clearance. Checking whether this person exists or not—one hundred percent, no problem. Go ahead, check for yourself.”

Scholar Tu hesitated, staring at the phone—he could tell it was the real deal, definitely not a fake.

He reached out for it, then pulled his hand back, his expression shifting.

”Including me, nobody knows your boss’s name.

Are you sure you did all this under that so-called boss’s instructions?

Or did you just brainwash yourself, invent some imaginary figure to dodge responsibility?

Or maybe, you got hit with some evil shit you don’t even realize, and after you got here, this place suppressed it all.

Are you even clear on it yourself?

You don’t know. You don’t even know what’s real and what’s fake.”

Scholar Tu’s nerves were starting to shatter. He’d always believed his boss was all-powerful, that there was no way he wouldn’t have foreseen this day.

If there’d been no advance warning, then that meant he had nothing to worry about, that he’d be able to get out of this eventually.

He’d actually managed to keep his cool, confessing a few things just to make his time here a bit more comfortable.

But now, Wen Yan was telling him that his one and only trump card simply never existed, that nobody could find any trace of this so-called person.

And ever since being called out like that, all he had left of his boss in his mind was the outfit.

No name, no face—all related memories just blurring out, half-fake, half-real.

His nerves finally gave way.

Because Wen Yan really hadn’t done anything to him.

He’d heard plenty about this detention center—he didn’t believe anyone could get past its suppression and surveillance, do anything under the radar, fooling not just the center but him too.

Scholar Tu’s eyes were bloodshot, his breath coming hard, shackles rattling wildly.

The supervisors standing guard outside immediately burst in.

Wen Yan waved them off, signaling it was fine.

After a moment, Scholar Tu said,

”You can pull up the surveillance, right? Check the feed from two days ago, the camera at the entrance of Guanzhong County City, Vermilion Bird Street No. 31, at two in the afternoon.”

”Alright.”

Wen Yan operated the phone right in front of Scholar Tu, then set it down on the table.

At that time slot, the surveillance video played—people passed by in an endless stream.

Scholar Tu watched it several times. The person from his memory—now fuzzier than ever—never appeared at all.

He slumped in his chair, psyche completely collapsed.