Chapter Forty-One: Official Codename—Masks
“Could there be a mistake?” The Gentle Man instinctively questioned Yu Fu’s words, as they completely overturned his understanding.
Since the founding of City No. 3, nothing like this had ever occurred—never had there been an internal traitor.
“That’s why I told only you,” Yu Fu glanced at the Gentle Man, “Whether the intelligence is true or false, I can’t say. But at least the prisoner believed it. You don’t doubt my abilities, do you?”
The Gentle Man immediately closed his mouth. He trusted Yu Fu’s abilities implicitly, especially after having tested them himself.
“Because of the uncertainty, it’s best you know just this much,” Yu Fu tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Pay attention to this detail during your mission. Be extra cautious.”
Her meaning was clear. Qi Chen grasped the significance behind her words.
If the intelligence was false, sharing it would only sow unnecessary anxiety and fear. But if it was true, even the Special Operations Group might not be able to guarantee absolute secrecy.
If other operatives failed, it might not fundamentally harm the mission, but they—the anomalous walkers—could not afford any mistakes. Their loss, even individually, would be a huge blow to City No. 3.
“Understood. Assign us the tasks,” said the golden-haired man known as Old Monarch, his tone impatient and urging. His expression carried a hint of disdain.
The others seemed used to his attitude; none but Qi Chen reacted in any way.
“First, review your mission instructions,” Yu Fu produced a folder and handed out several copies to the group.
They scanned the documents quickly, each understanding their respective responsibilities.
“You want me to infiltrate?” Qi Chen stared at the papers, hands clenched, then looked up at Yu Fu in disbelief, wondering if there had been a mistake in the assignment.
The document stated in black and white that he and the Gentle Man were to go undercover at the enemy’s suspected gathering point—the Grand Music Hall—to gather intelligence.
He had no idea how to do that!
The Gentle Man was equally perplexed. “Shouldn’t this infiltration go to Prism?”
“She has her own mission,” Yu Fu cut off any further discussion with a single sentence.
“Gentle Man, do your best. Let’s see who does better,” Old Monarch said, arms crossed, a haughty expression provoking an urge to punch him.
Qi Chen instantly understood why his partner preferred avoiding contact with Team Two. He’d only just met Old Monarch, and the man’s peculiar temperament was already showing—a result, no doubt, of his own anomaly: an arrogance that brooked no one.
Fortunately, Yu Fu soon gave the order to begin, and they did not have to remain together any longer.
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“Hey, have you thought of a codename yet?” The Gentle Man kept his eyes on the road as he drove his red SUV, addressing Qi Chen in the passenger seat.
The operation had begun. For an undercover mission, they couldn’t take a Special Duty vehicle; their own private car was the only option.
“I have some ideas,” Qi Chen replied, still angled toward the rearview mirror, watching the cityscape recede. He was a bit dazed.
It was around eleven, but in this city, the view was always the same, illuminated by the towering lights everyone relied on.
Qi Chen realized he still hadn’t fully adapted to the rhythm of this world. The memories in his mind were deeply rooted.
Twenty years of habits could not be erased in a mere few dozen days.
“But I guess I’m getting used to it,” he thought. At least he was accustomed to carrying the Overlord anomaly within him—the occasional growl in his ear no longer unsettled him, but instead gave him comfort.
As he used the Overlord’s power more frequently, he found their communication smoother than when he first began.
At least now, he didn’t resist in battle, and during the confrontation with the Old Beggar, the Overlord cooperated perfectly.
“Maybe someday I’ll try entering that room and wear the Overlord’s mask,” Qi Chen mused, recalling the mask’s mocking words. He wasn’t sure he was qualified to use the Overlord’s power fully yet.
He shrugged mentally—let things take their course.
“So, tell me your ideas. I’ll help you decide,” the Gentle Man smiled, then his tone turned mournful. “Take it from me—choose your own codename. If you keep delaying, the department will assign one for you.”
“I procrastinated too much back then and ended up with ‘Gentle Man.’ I really regret it…”
His resentment for his own codename was obvious. Qi Chen remembered their first meeting, when the Gentle Man had wanted to be called ‘Tough Guy,’ and nearly burst out laughing.
He coughed to hide his amusement. “What do you think of ‘Mask’?”
“Mask?” The Gentle Man pictured the Overlord’s fearsome black-and-white face. “That’s a good codename. Fits your anomaly perfectly.”
“So, in future operations, I’ll call you Mask?”
Qi Chen nodded lightly. He did not know if, in the future, he would have only one Mask.
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The SUV slowed, finally stopping before a uniquely designed building.
“This is the Grand Music Hall,” the Gentle Man explained. “The last governor had it built to enrich the citizens’ spirits, hoping entertainment would lift their moods and reduce anomalies.”
“It was popular for a while, but now it’s lukewarm. Still, on holidays, it’s often packed.”
Qi Chen understood. Most people spent their time fighting for survival, and having a place to listen to music was almost a dream in this age of mist.
City No. 3 had provided a haven for the lost—a place to rest and dream.
Even the oldest City No. 1 only built its music hall after City No. 3 set the example.
“Gather your things. Let’s go in.”
Qi Chen adjusted his earpiece and followed the Gentle Man straight to the entrance.
After a brief inspection, the two entered the music hall without incident.
“I can’t even remember the last time I was here,” the Gentle Man said, scanning his surroundings.
Qi Chen, who had never visited before, was even more curious about the place. But what caught his attention most was the faint sound that reached his ears.
A gentle melody.
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