# 482
Chapter 482 – The Smell of Blood
“Qiye, Qiye!”
Baili Pangpang shook Lin Qiye, who was lying on the sofa. “Wake up, we’ve landed.”
Lin Qiye slowly opened his eyes, turned to the window, and saw that the private jet had already touched down on the tarmac.
“Alright…”
He stood up, grabbed his black case, and stepped off the plane.
Just now, he’d been inside the Asylum of the Gods.
Ever since Sun Wukong had uttered that sentence, he’d fallen silent again; no matter how Lin Qiye called out, there was no response.
Left with no choice, Lin Qiye left the ward, planning to try again later. Anyway, the door to the fourth ward was now open, so he could visit Sun Wukong anytime.
If once didn’t work, he’d try twice; if twice failed, three times…
No matter what, he had to figure out Sun Wukong’s condition.
This first encounter hadn’t seemed to yield any useful information, yet Lin Qiye had a faint hunch that the key lay in that final line—“Don’t call me Great Sage.”
Could his illness be connected to the title “Great Sage”?
Lost in thought, Lin Qiye climbed into the car Baili Pangpang had arranged. The vehicle pulled away smoothly, heading for Team 008’s station.
“Hmm… let me brief you on Team 008.” Lin Qiye opened the file in his hand. “Six members total. Captain Li Hong is a ‘Boundless’ realm expert; the other five are all ‘Sea’ realm. Compared with Team 009, they’re an absolute crush.”
“Only one serial number apart—how can the gap be this big?” Cao Yuan asked, puzzled.
“They used to be about equal,” Lin Qiye explained. “Three years ago, Team 009’s captain was also ‘Boundless,’ but he died chasing the Believers’ Third Seat. Huang Yuande took over afterward.”
“The Believers again…”
“So for this challenge, do we have to face that ‘Boundless’ Li Hong?” Baili Pangpang asked.
“That depends on how Sword Saint senior performs…” Lin Qiye glanced at Zhou Ping, whose mouth twitched as he turned to stare out the window.
“If it’s five-on-five, even if Captain Li joins, we can put up a fight—we’ve plenty of trump cards,” Lin Qiye continued. “But six-on-five, the pressure’ll be huge.”
“We’re always outnumbered,” Baili Pangpang sighed. “When will our squad finally get a sixth member? Fighting short-handed gets tiring…”
“My captain authority was stripped; I can’t reassign promising rookies from other Night Watch teams. We have to recruit ourselves,” Lin Qiye said gloomily. “Trying to lure people into a nameless, number-less squad? Easier said than done.”
Everyone drooped a little.
“Still, five of us isn’t bad—at least we get along great.”
“Yeah, whether we ever become a special team doesn’t really matter.”
“Let fate decide.”
While they chatted, the car arrived at Team 008’s station: an unremarkable detective agency sitting alone in a remote development zone. Apart from a couple of shabby snack shops, no other storefronts were around.
Lin Qiye stepped out and looked up at the second-floor window, where dusty glass bore several big characters in eye-catching red:
—Daylight Detective Agency.
“Tsk, Team 008’s setup is pretty fancy,” Baili Pangpang marveled.
Lin Qiye nodded. “Captain Huang told me about them last night. The whole team loves mystery novels, so they all call themselves detectives. Between missions they solve puzzles and take civilian cases for fun.”
“Nice corporate culture,” Cao Yuan approved.
“What’s ‘corporate culture’?” Jialan asked curiously.
“It’s when a group shares the same spiritual pursuit.”
“Oh…” Jialan pondered. “Then what’s ours?”
“Do we even have culture?”
“……”
“Maybe no corporate culture, but we’ve got Qiye culture,” Cao Yuan declared.
Nearby, head down, Zhou Ping was muttering to himself. He took two deep breaths, mustered his courage, and weakly called out:
“Team 008 inside, listen up—you’re surrounded! If… if you don’t come out for a fair five-on-five, we’ll… we’ll tear up the tickets!”
His voice was so soft that ten meters away it sounded like a whimper, yet his face flushed as if he’d used every ounce of oxygen and might faint.
Lin Qiye and the others froze.
After shouting, Zhou Ping remembered something and quietly added: “…Thank you for your cooperation.”
Lin Qiye: …
Well, at least he’s more polite than before.
Fortunately no passers-by were nearby; otherwise the embarrassment wouldn’t be Zhou Ping’s alone—Lin Qiye and company would also be digging four-bedroom apartments with their toes.
“Um… Sword Saint senior,” Lin Qiye said carefully, “that was good, but… could we speak up a bit, or maybe go inside first?”
Zhou Ping looked pained. “I have to say it again?”
“Yeah, I don’t think they heard you.”
“…Then let’s go inside.” Zhou Ping hesitated. “I think I’m starting to find the feeling.”
Lin Qiye: …
They walked to the door, pushed open the glass, and entered.
It was broad daylight and the agency was unlocked, yet no one manned the front desk. Lin Qiye called out several times; no one came downstairs.
The reception area stood empty. They exchanged glances; silence hung thick.
“Strange. Detectives all like sleeping in?” Baili Pangpang wondered.
“Maybe they’re out on a case.”
An Qingyu shook his head. “I doubt real detectives leave the door unlocked.”
Zhou Ping, who’d been nervously rehearsing his “threat,” came back to himself, unclenched his fists, sniffed the air, and frowned.
“Something’s off…”
His gaze sharpened.
“There’s the smell of blood.”
Blood?
Lin Qiye’s brows knitted. Ignoring courtesy, he released his mental perception to its limit.
The next second, his face changed drastically.
“Not good!”