The thing's still here?
Everyone exchanged looks.
Blank.
Dumbfounded.
Straight-up disbelief.
What kind of joke was this?!
They'd just dealt with a massive staged attack—
Bombs, hostages, a full-scale assault on a police division…
And now this kid was saying—
> "They didn't even take anything.
The really important item might still be inside the criminal division?"
Was this even humanly possible?
Were these people… insane?
Xiao Yang watched their "just saw a ghost" expressions and nearly burst out laughing.
If he threw out a casual:
> "Just kidding!"
He might actually get beaten to death on the spot.
Suddenly, he felt a gaze boring into him.
He turned his head—
Chu Dongchan.
Narrowed phoenix eyes.
Goddess-level cold.
Her gaze glinted like icy stars, as if she could see into the depths of his soul.
Xiao Yang's heart skipped a beat. A little guilty.
Tch. What are you looking at?
You realize if I closed my eyes right now, you'd be in real trouble?
…What exactly he might imagine doing with his eyes closed—
No one needed to know.
Apparently sensing his thoughts, Chu Dongchan's eyes flashed like a bayonet.
Crap—
Xiao Yang immediately turned his head away.
Nope. Not messing with her.
> "You're not joking?"
The senior officer in the white shirt finally recovered.
Frowning. Staring at Xiao Yang with suspicion.
> "Wanna find out?"
Xiao Yang grinned.
Time to test his theory.
> "I know you guys have ways to reconstruct the scene—restore footprints, right?"
His tone was confident.
His memories of police academy training from the "previous" Xiao Yang were now his.
He wasn't clueless about forensics.
Don't let trashy crime dramas fool you.
Just because a criminal "cleans" the scene doesn't mean there's nothing left.
For example—blood.
Even if you wash it off, trace proteins and residues remain.
And footprints? Even easier.
You just need a microscope. Or a strong magnifier.
Take snow, for instance.
People walk over it, compact it.
Even if you sweep, the compressed snow lingers.
Footprints are the same idea.
Air always carries micro-dust and debris.
Step on it, and your shoes press that residue into the surface.
Even sweeping won't remove everything.
Plus, soles pick up all kinds of materials—
Grease, bacteria, grime, sand…
Every step you take, you leave trace evidence behind.
Ordinary people might not get it—
But experienced forensic cops?
They know.
Reconstructing those steps would let them trace exactly where the intruders went.
Which rooms.
Which desks.
What they touched—or didn't.
And just like that—
You'd have your answer.
> "The crow leaves its caw, the man leaves his trail."
That old saying?
Not a joke.
---
Restoring the scene would take time.
Fortunately, that had nothing to do with Xiao Yang.
He was now sitting on the curb—eating takeout, sipping bottled water.
Eyes blank, chewing slowly as he stared at the sky.
Dawn broke gently.
A soft mist lingered.
The city glowed like a watercolor painting come to life.
In all his past life, Xiao Yang had always wanted to watch a sunrise.
Never got around to it.
Today—he finally did.
A shadow appeared beside him.
If not for his Warfare King's Technique, with its heightened instincts,
He wouldn't have sensed it at all.
His blank eyes regained focus. A spark returned.
> "You really coming to marry me?"
Chu Dongchan's earlier expression—cold disgust when he refused to join the force—
Yeah, he saw that crystal clear.
It was obvious she had no intention of actually dating him.
Just like the original Xiao Yang, who probably planned to phone it in.
> "Real people don't do blind dates," he muttered.
> "If you didn't want to be a cop, why go to police school?"
Chu Dongchan asked, quietly sitting beside him.
She gazed toward the golden light spilling across the horizon.
Xiao Yang put down his lunchbox.
> "One day, I smelled something rotten in my room."
> "Looked everywhere. Couldn't find the source."
> "Eventually, I found a rotting dream and a decaying ideal stuffed inside my pillow."
> "But that wasn't the worst of it."
> "I followed the stench… and found a corpse under my bed."
> "It was me. My younger self."
He grinned.
Chu Dongchan's eyes flashed.
Was this really a 22-year-old?
She suddenly found him hard to read—like a fog-covered morning, quiet yet mysterious.
> "What about you?"
Xiao Yang asked, eyes on the rising sun.
"Where'd you serve?"
> "Classified," she replied, tone frosty.
Xiao Yang blinked.
Seriously?
> "Why'd you join the military?"
> "Wasn't my choice."
She paused, seeming to weigh what she could reveal.
> "I was already a soldier at seven."
…Xiao Yang nearly choked.
> "How old are you now?"
> "Twenty-seven."
She gave him a look.
What kind of idiot goes on a blind date and doesn't even know the other person's age?
Twenty years of military service.
Xiao Yang's eyes went blank.
His expression screamed: Are you messing with me?!
He sat frozen for several seconds before frowning.
Could be true.
You don't just become a war goddess by doing basic training.
But being recruited at seven?
That was wild.
Then he remembered her earlier word: classified.
There were things ordinary people weren't allowed to know.
Secret training programs. Specialized child operatives.
He'd heard rumors in his past life—like "National Defense Youth Programs."
It all made sense now.
No wonder she was a living legend.
At that moment, a police captain emerged from the building.
He spotted Xiao Yang and gave him a nod.
Time to work.
Xiao Yang rose to his feet.
> "You little brat—I'm coming for you."