Chapter Seventy-Six: The Entire Game Thrown Into Disarray

To ensure there were absolutely no issues with the Prisoner statue, Qi Chen chose to remain in the art gallery for another two hours. The bronze Prisoner no longer concealed himself, repeatedly attempting to untie the copper ropes wound tightly around his wrists.

Yet, without the ropes being undone, the eerie being’s strength was no greater than that of an ordinary person—especially since he had to keep his pose and could barely move to work at the knots. The Tyrant had pulled those ropes to their absolute limit. Without outside assistance, the Prisoner’s chances of freeing himself were almost zero.

During this time, a group of security personnel employed by Mistwalk Transport Group entered the gallery, likely having discovered the unconscious guard at the entrance and come to investigate. The leader of the security team was far sharper than the previous guard; after Qi Chen reiterated his identity, the gallery staff chose to cooperate without protest.

“If you want to avoid any accidents, you must completely seal off this gallery from now on—do not open it for the exhibition, no matter what!” Qi Chen declared, resolute. The manager, dressed in a well-fitted suit and gold-rimmed glasses, forced a smile—reluctant, but acquiescent.

He offered a statement that sounded as much like a warning as advice. “Sir, I hope you’re prepared to take responsibility for your actions... Mistwalk Transport Group will, of course, cooperate fully with any order from the Third City Public Safety Bureau. However, this exhibition was filed with the Bureau long ago—it’s not just an ordinary event. I can tell you that Mistwalk planned to sign important business agreements with several major groups during the exhibition. This would be a significant contribution to the Third City. I hope, afterwards, you’ll provide an explanation satisfactory to all parties.”

Qi Chen merely smiled. He trusted the promise Fu Ying had once given him—to act boldly—far more than anything the manager said. Besides, even within Third City, traitors had arisen among the leadership.

Could Mistwalk Transport Group also play a unique role in the brewing chaos?

The transport of so many strange weapons into Third City was a glaring anomaly—without a major transport force behind it, it’s hard to believe. But now wasn’t the time to investigate.

“If there’s a problem, come find me directly,” Qi Chen said, leaving the gallery without another word.

Clearing out hidden anomalous weapons had gone far more smoothly than he expected. Aside from the firefight at the branch bureau, this art gallery operation was completely uneventful. Contacting Warm Guy and Refraction, he found their actions had likewise gone well.

So far, the three of them each had only one target left.

Hailing a taxi on the roadside, Qi Chen’s face radiated confidence; he was ready to confront the final anomalous weapon. If they could resolve these quickly, there’d even be time for further preparations.

But the taxi had been driving less than ten minutes when it abruptly stopped in the middle of the road. Qi Chen frowned, looking ahead.

A long line of cars was jammed ahead—some accident seemed to have happened further down.

“What’s going on...?” the driver muttered in confusion.

Suddenly, laughter echoed from up front; a line of children appeared in view, forming a small parade. Each child’s face was lit with genuine joy, and their hands held bags in bright colors.

One little boy hopped over to Qi Chen’s taxi, tapped on the window, and pulled out a handful of small candies from his bag, his childish voice ringing out: “Want some candy, mister?”

Qi Chen was taken aback. The candy in the boy’s hand looked strangely familiar; he suddenly remembered and reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a candy with identical wrapping.

He’d received this candy from a middle-aged woman on his way to work at the Anomaly Handling Department; she’d given candy to many kids on the roadside that day.

What kind of coincidence was this?

As Qi Chen pondered, the driver had already helped himself, popping a candy into his mouth and savoring its sweetness.

“This is pretty good,” the driver remarked.

Seeing the driver show no unusual reaction, Qi Chen felt a bit more at ease. He looked out at the traffic jam, but unease still crept into his heart.

...

...

“Old Lord! Report your current situation immediately!”

Inside the command vehicle, Fu Ying stared at the blank action recorder screen, once again contacting Old Lord via communicator. Ever since Old Lord had entered the unsettling villa, all contact had been lost.

Reports from the perimeter squad suggested intense combat was underway inside—the commotion was so great it had disturbed many residents in Shang Mansion City. Multiple channels had already exerted pressure on Fu Ying, including the Third City’s political authorities and various business groups.

“Captain Fu, your operation is truly reckless,” Director Qiu sneered. “If you keep acting this way, what will become of Third City’s reputation in the Alliance?”

“Shut up!” Fu Ying’s eyes were cold, showing not a shred of courtesy to Director Qiu. “I don’t give a damn about your so-called reputation.

“If you want to assign blame, write it in your supervision report.

“I’ll tell you this: I’ve already lost an entire Special Ops squad—those are real lives! Compared to them, reputation is worthless!”

Director Qiu had clearly not expected Fu Ying to rebuke him so fiercely in front of the staff; his face turned crimson, a lump in his throat he couldn’t spit out.

Just then, two distinct ringtones rang out simultaneously.

Fu Ying and Director Qiu glanced at each other and each took out a communicator from their bags—the sound came from their devices.

“What’s going on?”

They spoke in unison, exchanging a look.

The messages on both communicators were strikingly similar:

“Alliance notification received: the Intercity Exchange Conference will convene a day earlier! Elder Li plans to depart ahead of schedule—in three hours!”

...