Chapter 97: Delivery Service
Chapter 97: Delivery Service
The motorcycle raced down the deserted road.
Sato Hayato clung to Fang Cheng’s waist from the backseat, eyes squeezed shut against the roaring wind. Fang Cheng revved the motorcycle to its limit, the engine’s growl reverberating through the sleeping city.
After disposing of the corpse in the sewer—his usual efficient method—Fang Cheng received Takeda Masumi’s investigative findings. With photos of the hat man and precise activity timelines, the surveillance had been straightforward.
Takeda Masumi traced the hat man’s recent movements, including his entry into the “Device Malfunction Zone” that afternoon. In this era of omnipresent drones and cameras, criminals had adapted. High-end electromagnetic devices now created localized voids in surveillance networks, often disguised as equipment failures. Only well-funded syndicates could afford such tools.
Sato Mai had vanished within one such temporary void—clear evidence of planned abduction. The hat man’s presence there, captured in photos, made him an obvious suspect.
Though no footage showed Sato Mai being taken to the hat man’s recent hideout—a traditional guesthouse with a glaring red LED sign—it remained their sole lead. Fang Cheng raced toward it, Sato Hayato in tow. Leaving the brother unattended risked trading one tragedy for another if lurking cultists struck.
They screeched to a halt outside the guesthouse. Fang Cheng produced two Ultraman masks. “For the cameras,” he grunted, tossing one to Sato Hayato. Takeda Masumi could erase digital trails, but eyewitnesses were another matter.
The receptionist froze mid-text as the masked duo entered. Her hand hovered near the panic button until Fang Cheng flashed a counterfeit ID. “Countermeasures Department. Press that button and you’ll be mopping prison floors tomorrow.”
Her nervous laugh sounded tinny. “How… how can I help?” Her fingers stayed beneath the desk, brushing the silent alarm.
Fang Cheng opened his phone and showed the girl the hat man’s photo. “This man stayed here. He left around 9 AM. Tell me his room number and how many accomplices were with him.”
The hat man’s twisted face glared menacingly from the photo.
The frightened girl stammered, “Room 209… three others in the room.”
“Cooperation noted.”
Fang Cheng pocketed his fake ID and tapped the counter. “Disable surveillance.”
The girl hastily shut off all cameras.
“Spare room key?”
“Owner keeps them. Should I call him?”
Fang Cheng shook his head. “Ignore any noises. Calm guests if they panic.”
His formal tone convinced the girl of their authority. She nodded rapidly.
Fang Cheng led Sato Hayato behind the counter. When they left, the girl grabbed her phone to alert the owner – but froze. All signals had disappeared.
…
In Room 209, three Blissful Faith cultists lounged around a coffee table. One watched beauty streams through headphones while others viewed underground cult broadcasts – more common than illegal videos online.
Knock-knock-knock.
The cultists exchanged glances. Their key-carrying leader wouldn’t knock. “Who’s there?” barked one.
“Package delivery!”
“Wrong address. We ordered nothing.”
“A baseball cap guy sent this! Call him to check!”
The cultists hesitated – their leader wore that cap. “Verify it,” one ordered, peering through the cat’s eye.
An Ultraman stood outside.
CRACK! A crimson spear exploded through the door, impaling the cultist. The door shattered as Fang Cheng stormed in, spears in hand, driving the skewered man backward.
The remaining two fumbled for daggers. Fang Cheng hurled his second spear. It streaked crimson, punching through a cultist’s chest before he could dodge.
The last attacker hesitated, then lunged. Fang Cheng’s spear melted into a longsword mid-thrust. Steel rang as he sliced the cultist’s dagger in half.
Fang Cheng dashed forward, fist crunching into the man’s jaw. The punch launched him across the room, crashing against the wall.