# 517
Chapter 517: Crimson-Eyed Shadow
“How are they moving so fast?!”
In the speeding 007 squad car, a bespectacled girl exclaimed in shock.
“What’s wrong, Xiaoyu?” asked Deputy Captain Han Qing.
Because of the rules, 007’s captain Guang Qingsheng couldn’t join this purge mission, so Han Qing was leading the team to the East District.
Qi Xiaoyu pressed her right index finger to her temple, eyes tightly shut.
“They’re riding some kind of vehicle that ignores terrain—blinked straight to the edge of the East District. They’ll reach the theater any second.”
“Must be one of their members’ abilities.” Han Qing pondered. “No matter. Let them run ahead at the start.”
“Exactly,” Zhao Kun laughed. “Speed means nothing. With Xiaoyu’s [God-Sense Diagram], as long as that ‘Mystery’ is still inside the East District, we’ll identify it and drag it out in an instant.”
“Deputy Han, do we really need to go all-out?” Yang Letong asked hesitantly. “Since this is the Fifth Reserve Squad’s assessment, why not ease up a bit and let them pass? Everyone’s happy.”
The others nodded.
To them this was just another cleanup; to the Fifth Reserve Squad it decided whether they became an official team. If they stumbled here, bad blood would last forever. A small step back would give Great Xia a new special squad and win their gratitude—perfect ending.
Han Qing glanced around. “You think a team worthy of being the fifth special squad needs us to throw the match?”
Yang Letong froze.
“If the Night Watch brass favors them, they must have something special. This confrontation isn’t to block them—it’s to whet their edge, bit by bit. We’re just the whetstone. And a whetstone has to be hard; only then can it sharpen a blade. If we crumble too easily, they’ll despise us and think 007 is mediocre.”
“What if… we win?”
“If the blade breaks on the stone, their skill is lacking and they don’t deserve to be a special squad.” Han Qing’s voice was calm.
…
East District. Century Grand Theater.
“This is where the ‘Boundless’-level Mystery was sighted?” Baili Pangpang eyed the dilapidated building suspiciously.
“The place is nearly a century old. Back then it was Huaihai’s brightest spot, but modern entertainment and a newer, fancier theater downtown stole its audience. Even scheduled shows play to empty seats,” Cao Yuan explained.
“Old Cao, how do you know so much?”
“I lived in Huaihai a year. Came once when tickets were discounted.” Cao Yuan shrugged.
Police had sealed the building after the sighting, but Guang Qingsheng had smoothed things over, letting Lin Qiye and company enter.
Inside was shabbier than out. Every corner swept clean, yet everything felt tattered. The hall was cramped, rows of seats squeezed tight; only a few second-floor boxes looked spacious.
“That’s where it was seen,” an officer behind them said, pointing.
They followed his finger—then stared. “The stage?”
“Mm.” The officer nodded. “Watch the footage.”
He set a monitor on a front-row table and hit play.
The camera angled across the stage, catching actors’ faces and the first two audience rows—empty. Still, the cast performed earnestly.
Suddenly, in a stage corner, black liquid seeped from nowhere, slid down a pillar, pooled into a shadow. Within the gloom, a crimson spot glowed—an eye—glancing around.
It slithered to an actor’s feet, erupted like a black beast, and swallowed him whole.
The rest scattered in terror; two scrambled offstage; the actress opposite the victim fainted on the spot.
The shadow receded, thinning into a film over the actor’s body. His eyes shut as if asleep.
Then a vertical crimson eye opened on his brow, eerie light pulsing.
Possessed, the actor ignored his collapsed colleague. Calmly he peeled off his costume, stepped down, donned a black overcoat from the audience rail, chose a black top-hat from a rack, and set it on his head.
He lifted his gaze; beneath the low brim the crimson eye stared straight into the camera. His lips curled.
He grabbed a prop cane, tapped the floor three times—and vanished.
Screen went black.
“That’s it?” Baili Pangpang blinked. “He didn’t kill anyone?”
“No. The others survived, but the possessed actor is still missing,” the officer said.
An Qingyu gazed at the stage, lost in thought.
“What is it?” Lin Qiye stepped beside him.
“Captain Guang was wrong,” An Qingyu said slowly. “It doesn’t have ‘fairly high’ intelligence—it has extremely high intelligence.”
He pointed to the darkness above stage right. “That camera is well hidden; even a careful person might miss it, yet the Mystery spotted it at once. Then it dressed itself—clothes, hat—its behavior isn’t like a Mystery at all…
It’s like a real human.”