Chapter 105: Your Only Mission: Become an Undercover Agent

At the start of the new week, Wen Du headed to work with resentment lingering in her heart. This added a fresh layer of vigilance to her habitual caution. She activated her powers of observation and intuition to their fullest, scrutinizing every tiny detail around her and collecting even the faintest whispers of disturbance.

Judging from her colleagues’ reactions and the behavior of the two institute directors, however, nothing had changed toward her. The Information Room remained perfectly calm.

Sha Jiali truly had not leaked the matter. He had honored his promise, even though Wen Du had never demanded one from him.

She had no idea whether he would keep that promise, but what she was certain of was that Sha Jiali lacked any solid evidence to expose her identity.

She had not been directly involved in Luo Zi’s disappearance from beginning to end. She had only discussed the matter with Xia Lie, which meant she could claim to be completely uninvolved.

Even if Sha Jiali suspected her identity, it was merely a hunch—he had no concrete proof. That was the confidence that allowed her to continue going to work as usual.

What she had not anticipated, however, was that while she awaited results, the news she received instead was of his disappearance.

Sha Jiali’s normal daily life had little impact on her. Even if he had dropped dead suddenly, she could have managed the fallout. But for him to vanish without a trace? That was a bolt from the blue.

Once a person went missing, it left a complete void for those left behind. His words, actions, and whereabouts all became unknowns—a Schrödinger’s danger lurking in uncertainty.

Wen Du’s intuition told her that Sha Jiali’s disappearance was no accident. It had been meticulously planned.

She had not originally intended to drag Ji Tingxi into this affair, but with such a mishap unfolding, she had no choice but to seek her help. Besides, Sha Jiali’s vanishing was a major event for Ji Tingxi as well, one she needed to be involved in.

In short order, Professor Sha’s whereabouts became a focal point of interest for both Giel and the Libo Faction. Both sides mobilized their networks and resources simultaneously to track him down.

On the surface, North County City remained tranquil, but in the shadows, tendrils of inquiry and probing extended everywhere, sifting through the air for any trace of a clue.

Amid this frantic pursuit, another incident occurred that made the situation even stranger.

While inside the Guard Institute, Wen Du happened to encounter a visiting outsider—and she recognized the man. In fact, she had only recently heard about him.

Accompanied by Kang Baili, the guest was walking down the corridor toward the elevator when he crossed paths with Wen Du.

Kang Baili smiled and greeted her. She returned the courtesy, glancing at the guest beside him and nodding in silent welcome to her visit.

After exchanging greetings, Wen Du continued toward the institute director’s office. She did not look back, but at the office door, she halted, needing a moment to process her shock.

How had this person suddenly appeared at the Guard Institute?

…

This month marked the second time Mo Fei had ventured out from the rear of Snake Mouth Mountain. As one of the base’s security chiefs, she rarely left her post, steadfastly guarding the site’s safety.

But this month was her “month of fresh air.” She had to step out every few days, and the outside world unfurled before her in a riot of colors.

This outing had brought her to the North County Guard Investigation Institute as her base of operations.

She spent her days in the institute’s building and her nights in a nearby hotel. As she pored over documents by the window, a team of people lurked below with binoculars trained on her room, trying to scrutinize her every move.

That evening, as Wen Du returned home, her heart brimmed with anticipation. Per their agreement, Yue Mu was due at Joyful Intent today to pick up both desserts and intelligence.

“How did it go?”

“We can confirm Mo Fei is staying at the Likai Hotel. No signs of hidden sentries or guards around her. Her daily routine cycles between the hotel, restaurants, and the Guard Investigation Institute. She’s usually picked up by a dedicated car, though she takes taxis sometimes.”

Wen Du murmured an acknowledgment and fell silent.

Yue Mu spoke with rising excitement, her words tumbling out faster. “So, shall we draw up a plan targeting her?”

If Sha Jiali was their top priority, then Mo Fei was the number-two candidate.

Lu Gan Da’s confession had echoed persistently in the organization’s ears: the base’s access system fell under the security supervisor’s purview. Gaining entry required prior application and her personal approval.

They had previously tried infiltrating via Lu Gan Da but failed—though they had identified a potential breach point. Mo Fei seemed like a viable avenue into the mysterious base.

Yet faced with this golden opportunity, Wen Du hesitated, her mind turning to deeper considerations.

“After arriving yesterday, she left the institute director’s office and headed straight to the Blue Training Department. That division handles training and experiments—both of which could be her purpose. She might be scouting new security personnel or fulfilling some research requirement.”

“Too bad we can’t plant anyone there,” Yue Mu said. “They verify backgrounds and bloodlines.”

“True, but that’s not the main issue. If necessary, I can discuss it with Miss Ji. I’m sure the Libo Faction has backups ready.”

As Wen Du understood it, Ruo Xing had come out of the Blue Training Class overseen by the Blue Training Department. He had aced all five evaluations during training and transitioned smoothly into the Guard Investigation Institute afterward.

Without Ji Tingxi’s intervention, she never would have spotted him as an undercover agent. The Libo Faction undoubtedly made efficient use of such safe paths, with plenty of reserves waiting in the wings.

If Mo Fei was truly here to select trainees for the secret base, a Libo plant could vie for selection, get personally chosen by her, and gain legitimate entry to probe its secrets.

But at the prospect of this plan, Wen Du’s expression remained impassive. Her eyes lacked their usual depth of far-reaching calculation.

Sensing there was more to it, Yue Mu prompted the turn. “But?”

“But Miss Ji told me today that the institute has reacted with utter calm to Sha Jiali’s disappearance. The Special Action Department received no orders to assist in the investigation. Given the circumstances, it seems his vanishing was arranged by the institute itself.”

Yue Mu’s delicate features paled in shock. “That’s terrible! He knows your secret. If the Guard Institute orchestrated this…”

“Do you remember the intel from the Snake Mouth Bay station? On September 4th, a black car entered Snake Mouth Bay. This time, there was no midway vehicle switch, so we couldn’t glimpse the passengers. Piecing it with the timing of Sha Jiali’s disappearance and the institute’s response, he must have been transferred to the mysterious base.”

“Ah?” Yue Mu puzzled over it for a moment before breaking into a mirthless laugh, her brows furrowing. “We were on high alert, watching for any personnel shifts to the base. We never imagined it would happen so abruptly.”

“Exactly. It was like a zero-frame transfer—no preparatory handover at all. Everyone assumed he had simply gone missing.”

“And right after he vanished, Mo Fei shows up at the institute. The timing is too suspicious. She might have arrived before he left, and the two could even have met.”

“I can’t yet pinpoint what this signifies, but regardless, we must proceed with utmost caution and make preparations.”

Yue Mu scooted closer, yearning to share in her tension and ease some of her burden. “Ah Du, I still remember what you said about the Lu Gan Da incident. The mysterious base’s handling of it had suspicious elements.”

“Yes. By our logic, even if they collaborated with the police and failed to catch the ‘kidnappers,’ they should have pressed the investigation. For a major base to be openly threatened and fork over five hundred thousand in cash without retaliation would wound their pride.

“But they extricated themselves cleanly, as if they knew it would lead nowhere—or were dodging something. I suspect they detected irregularities, realized the kidnapping wasn’t straightforward, and opted not to engage, seeking a swift exit.

“Whether they truly escaped unscathed is another question. Look—Supervisor Mo is back now. Beyond visiting the Blue Training Department, might she have other objectives?”

Yue Mu nodded solemnly after hearing her out. “In that light, it’s wise not to act rashly. Should we warn the Libo Faction?”

At the mention of Ji Tingxi, Wen Du finally smiled—the first glimmer of relief at the dinner table. “Yes. I’m just about to contact Miss Ji.”

…

In the new week, Bai Zhuo carved out time to follow up on the Spectator Entertainment City suspects. Yet after more than a month, the investigation showed no progress despite his involvement.

The situation aligned with his earlier assessment: the Libo Faction’s operatives were masterfully elusive. They could host events boldly in the open while vanishing tracelessly behind the scenes, leaving no investigative threads to pull.

Unlike the Sern People, Libo members were Homer People through and through. Apart from their factional differences and ideologies, they were indistinguishable—same features, skin tones, builds, and cultural backgrounds.

With deliberate concealment of their beliefs, they could effortlessly blend into the Rui’er Faction and fish in troubled waters.

Not long ago, Ma Gefan had boasted of endless patience, no matter how long the probe took.

But a month on, staring at the stalled inquiry, he faltered. He blinked, his eyelashes betraying the frustration and helplessness in his eyes.

“Chief Bai, we’ve checked the event planner’s social connections, daily routines, chat logs, and call records—nothing suspicious. Continuing will likely yield the same.”

Pouring more time into her risked pure expenditure with no returns.

Bai Zhuo set aside his documents, his expression untroubled. A hint of relief creased the corners of his eyes. “You’re right. We can keep eyes on her, but no need to dig deeper.”

“So we drop it?” Kefan asked.

“No.” Bai Zhuo looked up. His eyelids always drooped halfway, yet he never seemed sleepy—his gaze remained sharp and bright, infused with straightforward ambition.

“We change angles. We approached from the event organizers before. Now, let’s start with the audience.”

“The audience?” Ma Gefan recalled those university students. “You mean investigate them?”

“No, we’re already well acquainted with those fledglings. They’re just ordinary students with misguided ideas, hooked on the Libo Faction’s lofty, empty rhetoric. Unremarkable as they are, they drew the Libo Faction out into the open. That’s the leverage we can use.”

Ma Gefan and Kefan exchanged glances. Having worked closely with him for so long, they dimly grasped Chief Bai’s intent.

…

In September, the Blue Training Camp held selection exams for its Blue Training Class. Three major categories proceeded in sequence, culling top talents who met the standards to earn entry.

All week, Xi Zhi buzzed with excitement. Joining the Guard Institute had been her dream throughout high school. To that end, she had enrolled in the Blue Training special school upon graduation, aiming to contribute to Bailunting’s security efforts.

This graduation exam was her one-shot ticket. Fail to rank among the elite, and she would settle for lesser postings, like the Guard Bureau handling special personnel protection.

But Xi Zhi harbored grander ambitions: safeguarding the broader populace. The Guard Investigation Institute was her true dream posting.

The exams encompassed seventeen subtests, grouped into three categories: psychological evaluation, physical fitness, and foundational assessment.

Lacking prior professional training, the tests avoided direct skill checks but wove professional elements indirectly throughout.

The candidates remained oblivious, of course. Exam contents were under strict secrecy—no leaks or practice questions. Success hinged on innate qualities striking the examiners’ fancy.

Upon entering the testing room, Xi Zhi found even the evaluators defying expectations. A man and a woman sat in the vast classroom, exuding approachability to lower her guard. Yet their plain attire and dignified bearing radiated an innate chill. Their forced warmth evoked headmasters patiently extracting confessions after confiscating contraband.

“If you join the Blue Training Class, do you have specific goals?”

“Yes. I’d like to work in languages, handling international affairs.”

Languages corresponded to information gathering and analysis. Bailunting teemed with diverse factions and tongues—even encrypted linguistic exchanges—posing challenges for Guard Investigation Institute oversight. Hence divisions like the Intelligence Division and Information Room.

“How many languages do you know?” The female examiner’s curiosity piqued.

Xi Zhi opened her mouth to reply but caught herself—this was a question in Gailie Language. To showcase her skills, she switched tongues.

“I am currently fluent in three: Homer Language, Gailie Language, and Ludis Language. Several others are in progress.”

The female examiner pressed further. “Do you know Sern Language?”

Switching back to Homer Language, Xi Zhi shook her head. “No. I rarely encounter it.”

In the current climate, fluency was hardly an asset.

The female examiner smiled but said no more.

The male examiner produced three sheets of paper and slid them toward her. “Please identify which of these three documents contains hidden information.”

Xi Zhi bent to examine them, her fingers clenching as tension gripped her body. Professional content right out of the gate?

But after reviewing them, she found nothing overtly technical. The sheets held recipes: red wine-braised beef, seafood soup, and caramel cream pudding.

Without overthinking, Xi Zhi picked the middle one and scrutinized it again.

“You think this one has an issue?”

After confirming, she rotated the sheet and handed it back. “Yes. It feels off.”

“Off how?”

“Its ingredient list is overly detailed and deliberate, with prominent numbers.”

“So, what do you think the hidden message is?”

“173-46-19-47. It looks like a phone number.”

The male examiner glanced at his female counterpart. She took the recipe, set it down, and tapped the page with her finger, her face resuming its affable smile.

“That’s the end of this section. You may proceed to the next testing station.”

That evening at home, Xi Zhi’s excitement swelled as she replayed her performance.

The examiners had not revealed if she was correct, but her intuition said she had shone—especially on languages. That had to leave an impression.

Successful candidates received notifications to report for procedures. But Xi Zhi waited in vain, staring at her phone screen until eleven o’clock Sunday night.

This was the final cutoff. Though past business hours for notifications, she clung to vain hopes.

After midnight, her inbox stayed barren—not even spam to keep her company. Sighing, Xi Zhi set the phone down, relinquishing her last shred of hope.

The next day at school, she was utterly distracted. Missing early selection meant pivoting to the nationwide unified exam, demanding a mindset shift.

Midway through class, she still could not follow the lecture. Fluent in three languages, she now felt like a deaf-mute, grasping not a single word.

Near dismissal, her homeroom teacher noticed and called her to the counseling room for a talk.

Xi Zhi entered, only for the teacher to step out and shut the door behind her.

Turning, she spotted a man in the swivel chair—the foundational assessment examiner from a week prior.

This time, he skipped the feigned warmth, settling into his natural demeanor: half-lidded eyes with clear gaze, mouth a straight line. He resembled a principal primed for interrogation.

Intimidating as it was, unlikely to herald good news, Xi Zhi’s blood surged anew. A Guard Institute officer would not waste time on an unrelated student.

“Hello. I’m Bai. You can call me Officer Bai. I’m here to congratulate you: you’ve passed our selection test and can join the Blue Training Class.”

The tidings were joyous but delivered without preamble. Xi Zhi had no time to absorb the thrill, her body stuck in procedural autopilot as she nodded woodenly. “Thank you for the recognition. I’ll do my best going forward.”

Her stiff composure struck just the right note. Bai Zhuo’s eyelids lifted slightly, revealing a fuller gaze.

“Very good.”

“When do I complete enrollment?”

“You don’t need to. Because you won’t be enrolling in the usual way.”

The girl froze, self-doubt surging. Perhaps some twisted examiner did waste time on nobodies.

“Though you won’t enroll normally, I’ll enter your information into the system. But your file will be known only to me. I’ll provide your training and guidance— all under strict confidentiality.”

“Then in the future…”

“In the future, you take the standard exams and attend university. Tell no one about the Blue Training Class selection or your training.

“Your grades are excellent; North County University or the Foreign Languages University will be no issue. Once there, study diligently. At the same time, begin exposing yourself to Libo Faction ideology. Do so very discreetly and covertly, molding yourself into a seeker of Libo thought.”

Xi Zhi’s instincts flared—this bordered on treason. Loyalty compelled her to protest.

“But Officer Bai, I’m not interested in Libo ideology! I swear my firm allegiance to the Rui’er Faction!”

Bai Zhuo’s finger tapped the desk emphatically.

“You don’t need to be interested. You need to learn it. Because your task for joining the Blue Training Class has only one objective: infiltrate the Libo Faction’s network in North County and become an undercover agent.”