American comic book: I, with my abundant martial virtue, love to do good to others.

Chapter 241 Preparing for the Official Competition

"Heart of Flame" was being held in a specially designed interrogation room at the FBI's Manhattan headquarters. His wrists and ankles were firmly bound by a special ability-suppressing device, and his eyes were coldly fixed on Lynn across from him, his face etched with exhaustion and struggle. He had clearly gone through a fierce internal struggle, while Lynn's gaze remained unwavering.

"Marcus, it's all over." Lynn spoke coldly. "Your operation failed, and Dawn's stronghold has been eliminated. The only thing you can do now is tell me the truth. Who's manipulating you?"

Marcos sneered, a hint of mockery in his eyes: "Manipulation? You think I'm a puppet? No, Inspector Lynn, everything I've done is for revenge, to make those who destroyed us feel pain."

Lynn moved closer, his voice low and resolute: "Revenge? If this is just your revenge plan, why do you have so many resources? Why does 'Dawn' obey your commands? You know this isn't something you can do alone."

Marcos paused for a moment, his eyes flickering as if weighing his options. He finally sighed and said in a low voice, "You think I'm the mastermind? No, I'm just a pawn. They know I hate this society, they know I hate those who turned me into a monster. They used my anger, gave me resources, gave me a team, and even told me what to do."

Lynn's expression grew even colder: "Who are they?"

Marcos's face darkened. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes filled with helplessness and pain: "Cohen Industries, and the people behind them. I've never seen their true faces, but every time I need something, someone delivers it. Funds, weapons, plans—they even told me how to create panic."

Kate stood to the side, listening to Marcos's testimony, a complex mix of emotions welling up inside her. She finally broke the silence, asking softly, "Why are you willing to say this now?"

Marcos turned to look at her, a bitter smile playing on his lips. "Because I failed. They'll pin the blame on me and erase all traces of their involvement. I know what my fate will be, but if I can expose their plans, perhaps I can salvage something."

Lynn's brow furrowed even more as he looked at Marcos with a scrutinizing gaze: "Do you have any evidence? Evidence that proves Cohen Industries was directly involved in these operations?"

Marcos closed his eyes and slowly said, "I kept some communication records and copies of the financial ledgers they gave me. I hid them somewhere, intending to keep them as a last resort. If you really want to find out the truth, go find those things."

"Address?" Lynn asked without hesitation.

Marcos opened his eyes and looked calmly at Lynn: "Warehouse No. 7 in the Brooklyn docks, under the floor behind the east wall. I just hope you can find them and expose their true nature."

Lynn nodded, quickly stood up, and gestured for an agent to write down the address. He turned to Kate and whispered, "We have to act immediately. This might be our only chance to find Cohen Industries directly involved."

Kate nodded, but a hint of unease flickered in her eyes: "Lynn, if what Marcos said is true, then the person behind it all might have already started cleaning up these traces. We have to hurry."

The two left the interrogation room and led a small team straight to the Brooklyn docks. The warehouse district was eerily quiet under the cover of night, with only the occasional gust of wind whistling through the dilapidated metal sheds. Lynn and Kate stood in front of Warehouse Number Seven, their eyes met for a moment, and then they nodded to signal their team to prepare to break down the door.

The warehouse was dark and cluttered, but completely empty. Lynn and Kate quickly located the markings on the east wall, pried open the floorboards, and sure enough, found a hidden metal box. Lynn opened the box; it was filled with paper documents and several encrypted hard drives.

"These are them," Lynn said in a low voice, quickly putting the documents into an evidence bag. "Marcus didn't lie."

Kate's gaze swept over the documents, but a sense of unease crept into her heart: "Lynn, if Cohen Industries' reach is really that deep, they won't let this evidence fall into our hands so easily."

Just as she finished speaking, the sound of an engine suddenly came from outside the warehouse. Several black SUVs sped up, and as the doors opened, several fully armed men in black filed out. They were clearly there to destroy the evidence.

Lynn acted decisively, ordering over the communicator: "Squad, prepare to cover the withdrawal! We cannot allow the evidence to fall into their hands!"

A fierce firefight erupted inside and outside the warehouse. Lynn and his team used the cargo crates as cover and engaged in a tug-of-war with the men in black. Kate was escorted to a safe corner; although she was instructed not to get close to the fight, her eyes remained fixed on Lynn, her heart filled with complex emotions.

In the chaos of the firefight, Lynn handed the evidence to a team member and whispered the order: "Take this stuff away immediately and send it back to headquarters!"

"Detective, then you—" The team member hesitated for a moment.

"I'll cover you, let's go!" Lynn interrupted him, her eyes resolute.

The team members nodded and quickly withdrew with the evidence. Lynn continued to fight the men in black until the last enemy was subdued, at which point he finally breathed a sigh of relief.

When everything calmed down, Kate stepped forward, looking at Lynn, who was covered in gunpowder, with a complicated expression, and said softly, "You knew there was danger, but you still put yourself first."

Lynn looked at her, a weary smile on her face: "Someone has to do this. I can't let these people ruin our only chance."

Kate didn't say anything more, but simply reached out and gently grasped Lynn's arm, her eyes filled with gratitude and a hint of unspoken emotion.

As Lynn entered the house, he heard the sound of a television and the clatter of pots and pans from the kitchen. Although it had only been a few months since he'd been home, everything seemed strangely unfamiliar. He saw George busy in the kitchen, clearly preparing dinner. His adoptive father's back was slightly hunched, but he still chopped and stir-fried vegetables deftly, as if time hadn't changed him at all.

"Lynn, you're back." George turned around with a smile upon hearing the voice, but his eyes held a hint of weariness and a subtle sense of estrangement. Lynn nodded, took off her coat and hung it by the door. "Yes, I'm back to see you all."

George gave a soft hum, turned around and continued with his work, saying in a flat tone, "Gwen is in her room. She's been very busy lately. Go check on her."

Lynn followed the familiar stairs to the second floor and knocked on Gwen's door. There was a hurried rustling of papers inside, followed by her sister's panicked voice: "Who is it?"

"It's me." Lynn pushed open the door and found Gwen slumped among a pile of application forms and textbooks, her eyes filled with weariness. "Are you alright?" he asked.

Gwen forced a smile: "Of course, applying to college always keeps me busy."

Lynn walked over and saw the scattered scholarship application materials on the table, feeling a pang of heartache. He sat down opposite her and said, "You don't need to work so hard. If you need anything, just tell me or Dad, and we'll help you."

"Will you really help?" Gwen looked up, a hint of barely perceptible reproach in her voice. "You're so busy you rarely even come home. Do you even know what I've been busy with?"

Lynn was speechless for a moment. He tried to explain, but the words that came out of his mouth were just a sigh.

At dinner, George served several home-style dishes. Although the table was lavish, the atmosphere wasn't as relaxed as he had imagined. Lynn tried to break the silence with a conversation, "Dad, how have you been lately? Are you still doing those community things?"

"Of course, I'm not busy at all," George replied casually, taking a sip of his water. His simple answer made Lynn uneasy. He noticed that George's face was paler than before, and his arm movements were slightly slower.

Gwen kept her head down as she ate, occasionally glancing up at Lynn and George, but clearly not wanting to join their conversation. Lynn finally couldn't hold back any longer, putting down his chopsticks and asking, "Dad, is something wrong with you? You don't seem as energetic as before."

George frowned, put down his chopsticks, and his tone became slightly stern: "Don't overthink it, I'm fine. You should worry more about yourself."

Gwen also looked up and said coldly, "Lynn, he's in excellent health, much better than you. And you? You're so busy with work that you can't even take care of your family, and now you suddenly want to ask about our affairs?"

Lynn's face stiffened; he felt caught in a position he couldn't refute. He said softly, "I'm just worried about you. I know I haven't done enough, but I'm trying to make up for it."

George sighed and waved his hand. "That's enough. Let's eat."

The dinner ended in silence, and Lynn felt a long-lost sense of alienation envelop the house. He returned to his room, sat at his old desk, and looked at the childhood items still neatly arranged in the drawers, his heart filled with mixed emotions. This home had once been his warmest haven, but now it seemed like a strange place where he needed to reintegrate.

Lynn vowed that he had to do better, not only for himself, but also for his adoptive father and sister.

The next morning, when Lynn woke up, he could already hear George's deep voice coming from downstairs. He rubbed his eyes, went downstairs, and saw George holding an old hat and a pair of worn-out sneakers, clearly getting ready to go out.

"Lynn, you're up?" George looked up at him, his tone still calm but with a hint of expectation. "I'm going for a walk in the park. Will you come with me?"

Lynn paused for a moment, then nodded: "Of course."

Fifteen minutes later, they stood at the entrance of the community park they used to frequent as children. Sunlight shone on George's wrinkled face, and his gaze held a nostalgic quality, as if he were traveling through time.

"When you were little, you always ran around here," George said softly, leading Lynn slowly deeper into the park. "Back then, you had just moved here, and you were introverted and didn't really want to play with other kids. So I brought you here every day, taught you how to play soccer, and taught you how to greet the other children."

Lynn recalled those hazy memories, and a smile involuntarily appeared on her lips: "Yes, I still remember when you forced me to play baseball with the neighbor's kids. I hated it at first, but it later became my favorite sport."

George nodded and pointed to an old swing not far away: "Do you remember that swing? Gwen was sitting on it when she was little, and she fell off and cried like a little rascal—but you laughed and comforted her, and even carried her around for a lap."

Lynn followed the light and saw that the swing was old and rusty, but he could almost see Gwen sitting on it as a child, giggling. He said softly, "You've done so much for us, but I've never really thanked you properly."

George stopped and turned to look at Lynn, his expression softening for the first time: "You are my children, Lynn. It's what I should do. Raising you has given me purpose and meaning, especially after your mother left."

Hearing this, Lynn felt a pang of pain in his heart. He knew that his mother's death was a huge blow to George.

George took on the responsibility of raising them alone, but never mentioned these hardships to them.

"Dad, I'm so sorry. All these years, I've been so busy with my own things that I never thought about how you managed to get through it all," Lynn said softly.

George patted him on the shoulder and said with a smile, "It's good that you're back now. Life has been tough, but you've all grown up healthy, and that's the best reward for me."

Behind a bench not far away, Gwen quietly took out her phone and recorded the scene. A slight smile played on her lips as she thought to herself that this conversation would surely become one of their family's most precious memories.

One evening, Lynn returned home late from work. As he passed Gwen's room, he heard deep guitar music and soft singing coming from inside. He stopped and found the door slightly ajar. Through the crack, he saw Gwen sitting in a chair, holding an old guitar, intently playing it. Scattered on the bed beside her were some lyric books and a music competition entry form.

Lynn pushed open the door, and Gwen jumped in surprise. She quickly put her guitar aside and used her body to block the forms: "Brother, you scared me!"

Lynn glanced at the documents on the bed and raised an eyebrow: "So, this is why you've been locking yourself in your room every day lately?"

Gwen's face flushed slightly, and she said in a low voice with some unease, "I—I'm just trying it out, I might not even participate anyway."

Lynn walked into the room, picked up the registration form, which clearly stated "City-level Youth Music Competition".

He smiled slightly. "Gwen, this isn't just a 'trial run.' You're preparing for the real game."

Gwen glanced to the side somewhat guiltily and muttered, "I'm just afraid I won't perform well."

I will disappoint you.

Lynn sat down, her tone softening: "Gwen, do you really think we'd be disappointed because of this?"

Dad and I will only be proud of you, no matter the outcome.

Despite Lynn's words, Gwen still seemed somewhat insecure. The next morning, Lynn told George about it. After listening, George pondered for a moment and said, "Gwen needs our support, but we can't just tell her we know. That would put more pressure on her."