Solving the case: Combining the police dog's olfactory genes at the beginning

The Gulfstream G650ER's flight management system emitted a soft beep, and a green locking frame popped up on the HUD, firmly locking the center coordinates of the crater in place.

He released the control stick.

Under the control of the autopilot, the aircraft plunged downwards at Mach 0.96, its nose pointing straight ahead, like an arrow shot out with its tip pointing directly at the center of the crater.

Then Luo Fei stood up and got out of the driver's seat.

When the viewers saw this scene, everyone in the live chat was stunned.

"He stood up???"

"What is he doing? Why did he stand up while flying the plane??"

"No, no, wait, he got out of the driver's seat!"

"He walked out of the cockpit! He walked to the back!"

"Captain Luo, where are you going?! Captain Luo!!"

In the live broadcast, Luo Fei turned and left the cockpit, walking to the passenger cabin area in the middle of the aircraft. The Gulfstream G650ER's cabin is not spacious, with four leather seats on each side and a narrow aisle in the middle.

His pace was neither fast nor slow. As he passed each row of seats, his gaze would linger on the empty seats, as if he were looking at something that others couldn't see.

Those seats were empty, but in his eyes, they might have been occupied by many people—his comrades from the Ganjiang team who had sacrificed their lives, those who would never be able to return home.

He walked to the boarding gate in the middle of the plane.

The Gulfstream business jet's boarding gate is located in the middle of the left side of the fuselage. It's a sealed door that flips outwards, with an emergency release handle around the door frame. Luo Fei stood in front of the gate and reached out to press the emergency release procedure on the control panel next to the door.

The red warning light on the control panel began to flash, and a mechanical female voice sounded, repeating the same sentence in English: "Emergency hatch is opening, cabin depressurization is imminent, please ensure all personnel are wearing oxygen masks."

Luo Fei was not wearing an oxygen mask.

He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the dry, slightly cool air of the cockpit, then grabbed the door handle and pulled it down hard.

The sealed door popped open outwards.

A violent gust of air rushed into the cabin in a fraction of a second. The enormous pressure difference swept up all the lightweight items in the cabin—the headrest covers on the seats, an aviation magazine in the aisle, a jacket that Luo Fei had taken off and placed on his seat. All of these things were carried by the airflow toward the boarding gate, as if they had been violently thrown away by an invisible hand.

The sky outside the door was instantly exposed to Luo Fei. The air at an altitude of three thousand meters was icy cold, with wind speeds exceeding eight hundred kilometers per hour, blowing against his face like countless knives simultaneously slicing through his skin.

The comments section went crazy.

"He opened the cabin door!!!!"

"Captain Luo, what exactly are you trying to do?"

He was standing at the hatch. He was standing at the hatch.

"Is he going to jump? My God, that's 3,000 meters in the air!"

"Jumping from 3,000 meters without a parachute is like being minced meat."

"Was he wearing a parachute? Did any of you see him wearing a parachute?"

"He wasn't wearing one! He was just wearing his jacket! He didn't have a parachute!"

"Captain Luo, no!!"

Luo Fei stood at the edge of the boarding gate, his clothes fluttering in the strong wind, his hair torn into a mess by the airflow, and the scar on his face turning a pale color in the wind.

He reached out and grabbed the door frame, glanced back at the passenger cabin, then at the cockpit where he had spent less than two hours, before turning back to face the vast emptiness outside the door, and the rapidly approaching mountains and crater below.

He leaped into the air.

He clutched his phone tightly in his hand, the camera pointed at his face, capturing the moment he jumped. The cries and screams in the live chat merged into a river of despair; countless people covered their eyes in front of the screen, yet couldn't help peeking out through their fingers.

They saw the image begin to spin violently, the sky and ground flipping wildly in the shot, clouds, mountains, sunset, crater, ash smoke—all the scenery turned into a blurry patch of color, stretched into messy lines as it spun at high speed.

Luo Fei was in freefall at an altitude of 3,000 meters.

The wind howled in his ears, making it almost impossible for him to hear anything. His body spun around in the air, his phone clutched tightly in his hand, the camera lens rotating with his body.

The scene that netizens saw was like being thrown into a high-speed washing machine, making them dizzy and unable to distinguish between heaven and earth.

Some people started sending vomiting emojis in the comments, but most people were crying, calling his name, and praying for a miracle.

"I can't see clearly, I really can't see clearly, the scene is changing too fast!"

"He fell! He really fell!"

"Three thousand meters! Without a parachute, you're guaranteed to die."

"I can't watch anymore, I really can't watch anymore!"

"Captain Luo, why? Why did you do this?"

Chen Xuanran sat in his apartment, with three screens in front of him: Luo Fei's live broadcast room, the Red Hacker Alliance's internal communication channel, and a location tracking program that was tracking Luo Fei's phone's GPS signal.

When she saw Luo Fei jump off the plane, she sprang up from her chair, covered her mouth with her hands, and stared wide-eyed at the image on the screen that was spinning wildly.

Her hands were trembling, her shoulders were trembling, her whole body was trembling, and tears welled up in her eyes, streaming down between her fingers and dripping onto the keyboard, wetting a row of keys.

"He jumped..."

Chen Xuanran's voice trembled violently, "He jumped! He didn't have a parachute! He jumped!! Zhou Xiaobei, did you see him? He jumped!!"

Zhou Xiaobei's voice came through the encrypted channel, surprisingly calm, so calm that Chen Xuanran wanted to reach through the screen and slap him.

"I saw."

"How can you be so calm after seeing that?! He jumped! Over 3,000 meters!! Without a parachute!!!"

Chen Xuanran's voice was so sharp it almost cracked.

"He knows how to fly."

Zhou Xiaobei said this in the same nonchalant tone as if he were saying, "He can ride a bicycle."

"What flying technique?! What the hell are you talking about?!" Chen Xuanran practically yelled into the microphone.

Zhou Xiaobei did not answer her. His gaze was fixed on the GPS signal data of Luo Fei's phone on another screen.

The data showed that Luo Fei's falling speed was consistent with free fall acceleration in the range of 3,000 to 1,500 meters, but when he passed the 1,000-meter height line, the falling speed began to decrease abnormally.

The rate of decay was very small, and it would be impossible to notice without carefully examining the data curve, but Zhou Xiaobei did.

"His descent speed is slowing down."

Zhou Xiaobei said into the communication channel, as if talking to himself, or as if explaining to Chen Xuanran, "He's almost a hundred meters away."

Chen Xuanran froze. She stared intently at the live stream screen, which was still spinning, but the speed of rotation seemed to have slowed down. The frequency of the alternation between the sky and the ground was decreasing, and the scenery that had been stretched into blurry lines began to become clear again.

She could see the outlines of the mountains in the distance, the color of the sky, and—she could see Luo Fei's own face.

The image stabilized.

In the live stream, Luo Fei is pointing his phone at his face. Behind him is a gray sky, and thick smoke from the Fuji volcano is billowing up several kilometers away.

His hair was a mess from the wind, and a grain of sand, which had flown in from who knows where, clung to the scar on his face, but his eyes were bright, as bright as two stars in the dead of night.

He smiled at the camera.

"Chen Xuanran," he called her name, his voice carrying through the howling wind to every device in the live stream, "Don't cry. I won't die from the fall."

Chen Xuanran stood in front of the three screens, covering her mouth with her hands, tears streaming down her face even more fiercely. But amidst the torrent of tears, the corners of her mouth began to twitch uncontrollably, turning upwards—she didn't know if she was crying or laughing, perhaps both.

She looked at the man floating in the air on the screen, at the volcano behind him billowing smoke, at his hair being blown by the wind like a tangled mess, at him saying to her in a tone as if he had just come back from the market, "Don't cry, I won't fall to my death"—she laughed and cried at the same time, squatted down in front of the three screens, buried her face in her knees, and her shoulders shook violently.

The scene seen by the viewers in the live chat was completely different from what Chen Xuanran saw. They saw Luo Fei holding his phone, the camera pointed directly at his face, with a gray-white sky and the blurry outline of Mount Fuji in the distance in the background.

The shaking in the footage was minimal, as if it were filmed on a relatively stable platform, creating a stark contrast to the previously captured, wildly spinning footage.

"Why is the video stable now???"

"He's suspended in mid-air? He's really suspended in mid-air?!"

"Impossible! How could someone be suspended in mid-air?"

"Look at the clouds in his background. Their relative positions haven't changed, so he's definitely not falling anymore."

"What the hell is the principle behind this?!"

"Flying technique??? Captain Luo knows flying technique???"

"Do you guys remember someone saying during the live stream that Captain Luo has special abilities?"

"I thought it was a joke at the time, but now I believe it."

"He really was floating in the sky. He really was floating in the sky."

"Then why did he just jump out of the plane and fly over here using a flying technique?"

"Didn't you watch the previous live stream? The flying technique only has a 100-meter limit, but he was at 3,000 meters back then."

Luo Fei ignored the comments in the live stream. He turned his phone from a selfie angle and pointed it at Mount Fuji in the distance. The moment the image flipped, everyone in the live stream saw the scene they would never forget.

The Gulfstream G650ER's silver-white body became a blurry shadow as it swooped down at high speed, heading diagonally toward the crater of Mount Fuji at near-sonic speed.

When the plane was less than 500 meters from the edge of the crater, a thin layer of white water vapor began to form on the surface of the fuselage due to high-speed friction. This was a visible barrier formed by the condensation of moisture in the air after being compressed by the violent airflow.

The aircraft maintained perfect posture, flying straight as an arrow with a stable course, like a precision-guided cannonball heading headlong into the crater that was emitting ash and smoke.

The moment it crashed in, the whole world went silent.

A dazzling burst of light shot into the sky from the crater, the orange-red flames and pure white shockwaves intertwining, like a giant flower blooming above the crater.

The flames reached a height of several hundred meters, displaying an eerie yet magnificent color under the setting sun—a fiery white at the center, gradually turning orange outwards, followed by billowing black smoke, the edges of which were tinged with a dark red by the setting sun.

The shockwave generated by the impact spread outwards from the crater, creating a clearly visible white ring in the sky above it, like ripples appearing on the surface of a calm lake after someone has thrown a pebble into it.

The loud bang arrived a few seconds later. A muffled and deep explosion came from the depths of the crater, as if a huge door underground had been slammed open by some indescribable force.

The sound was extremely low in frequency, so low that it was difficult for the human ear to pinpoint its direction, but the vibration it brought was incredibly real—glass within a radius of tens of kilometers trembled simultaneously, the paper lantern hanging at the entrance of the izakaya swayed twice, and the sake bottle in the izakaya owner's hand slipped from his fingertips, shattering on the ground into a shower of sparkling glass shards.

In the live stream, over 2 million viewers witnessed all of this.

The comment section went blank for a brief moment when the plane crashed into the crater—not because the system lag, but because 200 million people forgot to type at the same time.

Everyone's thoughts froze in front of that image; everyone's fingers hovered above the keyboard and screen, motionless. This silence lasted for about two seconds, and then the comments flooded out like a burst dam.

"It crashed in."

He really crashed in! He really crashed in!

"Fushishan got hit, damn it!"

"Did you see that light? It shot out!"

"The volcano's magma chamber was breached; this is definitely not an ordinary impact reaction."

"It's smoking! It's smoking! It's smoking! Look, the volcano is smoking!"

"That's not smoke, that's volcanic ash. The volcano has started erupting."

In the Ministry of Defense's underground command center in Chiyoda Ward, Tokyo, Shigeru Tanaka stood in front of a large screen, watching the dot of light on the plane disappear at the location of the crater.

His hand slid off the conference table, and his body slowly, little by little, slumped backward until he finally collapsed into the swivel chair behind him. His entire weight slammed against the back of the chair, which slid back half a meter before hitting the wall behind it and coming to a stop.

"It crashed in."

A staff officer's voice broke the deathly silence of the command center, as soft as a whisper in a dream.

In the office of Kamikaze Bureau Chief Takijiro Onishi, he wasn't sitting. He was standing, the screen of his intelligence terminal displaying real-time data transmitted from the Nashi Prefecture volcano monitoring station. (End of Chapter)