Mission 66

If Scar dares to kill me, then Bai Ye dares to kill him.

When that voice echoed, the kitchen knife in Scar’s hand froze in midair. I let out a slight sigh of relief; though the one who came was still a demon, at least I could survive, and nothing mattered more than survival.

I finally learned his name—Bai Ye—a name both delicate and cold, suiting his aura: chilling and lethal.

Soon, I saw that madman slowly stride in. With his abilities, it was no surprise he found this place. I felt everything was within his grasp; from my capture by Scar, being stripped to my underwear and tied to a chair, all the threats—it all likely happened right under Bai Ye’s gaze.

He hadn't rescued me because it wasn’t yet his time to act; he wanted to see if I could still become the Chen Mu I once was. After all, Scar was a fellow participant in this killing game, a formidable adversary who might ignite my fighting spirit, stimulate my memory, and perhaps remind me of who I am.

But Bai Ye clearly failed, for after all Scar’s torment, I still had not regained a shred of memory.

At that moment, doubt crept in: am I truly Chen Mu? Even with the most severe brain trauma, after so many familiar events, shouldn’t I recall something? According to Liu She, I hadn’t undergone any procedure like lobotomy or hippocampal removal. If I had amnesia, it would be selective, a self-imposed forgetting that could be reversed by reconstructing the context—so why was there no sign of recovery? Unless I simply wasn’t him.

But if I wasn’t that twisted Chen Mu, why did I sometimes demonstrate reactions far beyond ordinary people?

It was a contradiction, and I had no answer.

Scar had already raised his eyes to Bai Ye, addressing him directly, “So it’s you, Bai Ye. Your master has fallen into my hands, and you dare speak to me in that tone?”

Scar clearly knew Bai Ye, and his words confirmed earlier suspicions: Bai Ye and I were indeed allies, and if I was still that depraved Chen Mu, Bai Ye would call me master!

Yet Bai Ye showed no anger at Scar’s words; he merely glanced at me, and a cold gleam flickered in his long, almond-shaped eyes.

He spoke to Scar, each word distinct: “Repeat what you just said.”

Bai Ye’s tone wasn’t arrogant or violent, rather light and unhurried, yet as his words fell, even I felt a chill run through me—Bai Ye truly possessed a terrifying presence.

Scar was formidable and twisted, but he seemed wary of Bai Ye; I saw his hand holding the knife tremble slightly.

He quickly controlled his emotions, lifted his chin and said, “Don’t be so self-assured, Bai Ye. This killing game is over for me. Every name on my list has been hunted, and I’ve gouged out each victim’s eyes, recorded the videos, and sent them back to headquarters. I’m just waiting for someone to come and hand over.”

Bai Ye replied flatly, “The killing time hasn’t ended. The one who laughs last may not be you.”

Bai Ye had barely finished when Scar burst into wild laughter, his tone arrogant: “If I’m not the winner, is it this coward who doesn’t even know who he is?”

Before Scar could finish, Bai Ye’s body moved suddenly. He darted to Scar’s side, his right hand flicked, and the sharp triangular spike appeared between his fingers again. Without hesitation, he slashed it toward Scar’s neck.

Scar wasn’t ordinary; he swung his kitchen knife at Bai Ye’s hand holding the spike.

But Scar was still a step behind. As his knife rose, Bai Ye’s left hand seized his wrist, and Bai Ye pressed in, pinning Scar to the wall. The spike was pressed against Scar’s neck; though Bai Ye didn’t cut deeply, he broke the skin and a thin trickle of blood appeared.

Scar was strong, his nerves steady, and didn’t tremble in fear, but I could see he was unsettled. He spoke to Bai Ye, his voice wary, “Bai Ye, do you want to die? Do you dare kill me? If headquarters finds out, you’ll die a hundred ways.”

I didn’t know how a living person could die a hundred times, but it was clear Bai Ye’s group was an alliance, a revenger’s league with strict hierarchy and enforcers. I wondered what spawned this avenger’s alliance, why they hunted members of Dawn.

Bai Ye responded, “No one wants to die. But if you dare insult him again, I will kill you.”

Scar dared not say more. He looked at me, then suddenly said to Bai Ye, “Let go, Bai Ye. I’ll help you kill Chen Mu—then he won’t be your master, and I’ll help you finish the task. We’ll call it even. From now on, you’ll take Chen Mu’s place. Bai Ye, do you really want to recognize such a coward as your master? Is he worthy?”

Scar had barely finished when Bai Ye’s spike stabbed into his neck—not fatally deep, but blood flowed.

Bai Ye’s voice was icy: “Even if he’s a coward, you have no right to slander him. Even if he deserves to die, he’ll die by my hand!”

To die by his hand—when Bai Ye finished, I shivered involuntarily.

Scar dared not speak again. Bai Ye ordered him to get out, and Scar immediately fled.

After Scar left, Bai Ye muttered to himself, “He really thinks he’s accomplished something. The names in Scar’s book of death and ours, the difficulty is worlds apart. He’s just a supporting role in this game.”

With that, Bai Ye came to my side, bent down, and cut the ropes binding me with the spike. I was too frightened to stand, afraid he’d kill me, since I did deserve death—and if so, only by his hand.

But he merely picked up my jacket from the floor and draped it over me, saying, “Chen Mu, I won’t kill you today. I want to give you one more chance.”

I summoned my courage and asked, “What do you want from me?”

He said, “Three days remain in this killing game. After three days, headquarters will send someone for the final reckoning and rewards. Our hit list is down to one—if we kill Fang Lin, we’ll be the victors. So you must kill Fang Lin within three days.”

Of course, I wouldn’t kill Fang Lin, but I didn’t dare refuse outright. I said, “I’m trying to become my old self, but killing Fang Lin is impossible—she’s in police custody now.”

Bai Ye, that twisted soul, simply said, “If you want to, you can find a way to kill her and take her head. I’ll give you three days. If Fang Lin isn’t dead in three days, I’ll kill her myself, and you’ll die with her.”

With that, Bai Ye turned and left.

After Bai Ye departed, I dressed and waited a while, making sure I was alone before rushing out in the direction they’d gone.

Leaving the basement, I found I was still in the abandoned underground factory, but it was already the next day. There were no police outside—which made sense, as they’d never guess I’d been tied up in the least likely spot, and Scar likely created the illusion I was held elsewhere.

Escaping the factory, I ran to the main road. Seeing pedestrians, I finally relaxed. I boarded a taxi, checked my pants pocket, and found my phone, which had been powered off to avoid tracking. When I turned it on, there were several missed calls—from Jin Ze and Fang Qinghe.

I immediately called Jin Ze back. Hearing I was safe, he sounded pleased, though he didn’t show it—his tone was as calm as ever.

He said they were at the cold case task force office, not the police station, and told me to go there directly.

When I arrived, I’d barely met Jin Ze before Fang Qinghe called me into his office.

Fang Qinghe asked what had happened, saying I’d kept too many secrets from him these days. He said it made things difficult for him—if I continued, he couldn’t handle the case, might have to change his approach, and couldn’t protect me.

This time, I didn’t conceal anything. Since Jin Ze trusted Fang Qinghe so much, I did too. I told him everything about Scar and Bai Ye, including their conversation.

As soon as I finished, a decisive light flashed in Fang Qinghe’s wise eyes, as if he’d made up his mind.

He quickly said to me, “Chen Mu, I have a difficult task for you.”

I looked at him in confusion and asked what task.

He soon replied, “I’ll help you recover your memory, so you can become Bai Ye’s master again. And you must act as our undercover agent.”