Chapter 14

The Resurgence Management Office waited an entire afternoon and nearly gave up.

Just as Zheng Shangyun prepared to send someone to the site at the risk of disappearance to gather more clues, a startled exclamation rang out.

“We’ve got a reply!”

The technician who had been stationed in front of the computer pointed at the red inbox on the screen.

Without wasting time, they had immediately begun tracing it using their technology the moment it arrived.

The first receipt had delayed them somewhat, preventing any useful information. This time, their setup was far more rigorous than before.

However… the technician in charge of tech gradually grew serious, staring at the screen with frustration.

Ten minutes later, he still frowned and shook his head.

“Still no luck.”

Our tracking tech tailored to weird types has never failed before.

“But this email vanished completely when faced with the trace.”

“Our probes sank into the sea without a ripple.”

Even though he didn’t want to voice the worst conclusion, the technician had no choice but to report it stiffly.

“So, we can’t pinpoint the sender from the email?” Zheng Shangyun pressed.

The technician nodded. “The situation doesn’t look simple.”

The problem now was that they couldn’t crack even a single email, and they hadn’t even begun exploring the neighborhood…

The email before them was clearly linked to the suddenly appearing “Taiping Luxury Garden.” A glaring clue lay right there, yet they couldn’t draw any useful conclusions. Zheng Shangyun couldn’t help feeling frustrated.

But years of handling emergencies helped him calm down. He turned to the technician.

“It’s fine. Open the email and see.”

“It’s the worst outcome already. Let’s just see what they said this time…”

Their previous reply hadn’t been pure bait. The content had also voiced everyone’s doubts.

To everyone at the Resurgence Management Office, Yunhe Convenience Store had no issues at all. They had no idea how the other side would respond.

But this time, the moment the technician clicked open the file on the big screen, a dense wall of text assaulted them without warning.

Even longer than the last one!

The sheer volume made their eyes swim. The technician dazed for a moment, and Vice Captain Yin nearby noticed in time, swapping him out before he recovered.

He has no special abilities—just ordinary human physique. Seeing two emails laced with eerie aura in a row would naturally cause disorientation.

Zheng Shangyun nodded, but even he felt the email’s content was overly voluminous this time…

It didn’t even seem like something one person had written.

A few minutes later, after everyone skimmed the latest reply, they couldn’t help twitching their mouths.

Zheng Shangyun: …

“It’s saying Yunhe Convenience Store was built on the road, affecting traffic safety?”

“And it reported Vigorous Property Management for inaction—said their home was robbed?”

“Cough… seems like it?”

Silence hung in the air. Xue Hengfu from the Sixth Squad scratched his head, thoroughly baffled.

Whether it was the squad captains gathered there or the tech staff, they all felt a sense of futility, like conversing with a madman, as they stared at the bizarre email.

“Tch, the one who sent this… is really okay in the head?”

Xue Hengfu couldn’t resist subtly tapping his temple while glancing at the captain.

Si Ning: …

“Shut it.”

One sentence, and the lively fatty grinned awkwardly before zipping his lips.

Yin Liao looked to his superior. “What now?”

As the current lead, Zheng Shangyun’s gaze locked on the email. He could confirm that aside from its inherent odd, eerie aura, the email itself held no overt dangers.

“Set it aside for now.”

“I’ll check with the higher-ups again.”

This fishing attempt had basically ended in failure.

Yin Liao fell silent but said nothing, merely turning to give the email a deep look.

…

After sending the file, Bo Ting rubbed his forehead, sensing the feedback might be iffy this time.

After all… the neighborhood residents had chattered nonstop, demanding he copy the utterly illogical group chat into it.

He himself had been baffled reading it—fat chance the recipients understood.

Whatever.

Sending a file cost nothing anyway.

With no expectations, he clicked send, then glanced at the night outside.

Hearing the kids squabbling downstairs, a smile tugged at his lips.

The next second, a rubber ball shot straight from the garden below, smashing right into the floor-to-ceiling window of Bo Ting’s living room.

The fragile glass cracked with a “crack,” and Bo Ting’s expression instantly froze.

Damn it!

Which brat!

Forgetting his air conditioner body in his rage-driven haze, Bo Ting flung open the window and yelled at the streetlamp below:

“Which brat threw that ball up here?”

In the garden under the building, the four brats—two boys and two girls—all took a step back.

After Bo Ting’s angry voice boomed out, they retreated beyond the streetlamp’s dim glow and bolted in unison.

“Lick lick” taunts rang out. Bo Ting looked closely and saw a little boy even making faces at him!

This was intolerable. Bo Ting spun, grabbed a raincoat from the bathroom, slipped it on, and snatched his phone. He checked himself in the mirror for two seconds.

Good—his peony-blooming face was covered.

Though the air conditioner’s height was a bit off, sneaking through the night while dodging cameras meant few would notice.

He had to!

Make this brat and their parents compensate!

The thought of the landlord returning from vacation to see that huge crack in the living room made him shudder.

Expressionless, he headed out the door.

He dashed down the stairs and quickly reached the spot where the brats had been playing.

But in his earlier hot-headed rush, he hadn’t thought much. Only after descending did it hit him.

Wait, were these brats that strong?

Hitting a ball from downstairs all the way to… the 13th floor?

What kind of superhuman kids were these?

The youth in the raincoat fell silent for a moment, staring oddly at the ball before him, utterly baffled.

But whatever—that wasn’t the point.

Luckily, from upstairs under the streetlamp, he’d spotted one brat’s escape route. Catch one, and he’d get the dirt on the rest!

Eyeing Building 5 across the way, Bo Ting pulled up his black raincoat hood and strode over with a frown.

Minutes later, he cornered the superhuman brat right at their home door.

The kid, who had smirked and fled so smugly, never imagined anyone would actually chase them down. Only upon reaching the door did it dawn on them. Spotting that black raincoat, it reacted as if beholding something utterly unbelievable, then scrambled inside and slammed the door in terror.

Bo Ting, a step too slow: …?

Scared now?

Not scared when smashing the glass?

Bo Ting never coddled brats. This one had already shattered his homebody principles—what more was there to say?

Dodging the camera stone-faced, he rolled up his sleeves and knocked.

“Where are your adults?”

“Get your mom or dad out here to talk.”

In the midst of his stern negotiation, Bo Ting didn’t notice that when he said “mom or dad,” the man and woman cooking in the opposite kitchen both froze in unison. Their bodies stiffened as if controlled by something, slowly turning toward him through the floor.

And atop their heads—strings indeed connected.

The brat across from him paled, its face under the moonlight covered in layer upon layer of cracks, just like a porcelain doll.

With “mom and dad” both halted, its pitch-black eyes rolled frantically, too scared to speak.

The realization that this “person” had entered Building 5 smoothly, with no other “adults” strangely intervening, wiped any smile from its face.

In the hallway, only Bo Ting’s voice echoed.

He checked his phone, “tch”ed, and warned impatiently:

“I know you’re in there.”

As the casual knocks resumed at its ears.

Hearing the cold snort from outside, the brat’s mental defenses finally crumbled.

Bo Ting was just about to post in the group chat to hash this out and let the neighbors judge, when a crying voice—even uglier than laughter—sounded from inside. It whispered, “Sorry, uncle.”

“I won’t do it again next time.”