Special forces soldier demobilization: Starting from the county government compound, a meteoric rise

After a violent flickering that could burn out an ordinary motherboard, the light and shadow on the screen finally froze.

No code.

No numbers.

There is only one photograph, silently floating in the center of the pitch-black background.

It was an extremely ordinary photograph. The old man in the photo, about seventy years old, was wearing a faded dark blue Zhongshan suit. He was sitting under an old locust tree, holding a tattered fan with half its feathers missing, and smiling at the camera.

His eyes held a kind of compassion born of experience, much like the old man next door at the alley entrance who would walk his bird every morning and give a passing child a couple of pieces of candy.

"Click."

The mouse in Ghost Hand's hand fell to the ground with a crisp sound. He was frozen in place, as if under a spell, his lips trembling bloodless, and he could only gasp for breath, unable to utter a single word.

Dead silence.

In the underground chamber, it was so quiet that you could hear even the sound of dust falling.

Liu Ming was also stunned.

He stared at the old face on the screen. His hand, which had been gripping the teacup tightly, had turned pale from the excessive force, and even made a teeth-grinding grinding sound.

This face is familiar to everyone in Kyushu.

His name is Qian Zhixian.

Former Director of the National Development and Reform Commission, now Special Advisor to the Kyushu Diet Secretariat, and one of the few remaining high-ranking leaders.

In China's textbooks, he is synonymous with "hard work and perseverance." In the city's officialdom, he is a pillar of "integrity and uprightness."

In Liu Ming's heart, he was the kind elder who personally pinned the First-Class Merit Medal on his chest at the awarding ceremony, patted him on the shoulder and said, "The future of Kyushu is in your hands."

……

"Boss...is there...is there a system error?"

Ghost Hand finally regained his voice, but it was hoarse, as if it had been sanded. He frantically typed on the keyboard, trying to refute the reality before him through big data comparison.

"That's Mr. Qian! He's the Mr. Qian who rode his old-fashioned bicycle to high-level meetings every day! He's the Mr. Qian who wouldn't let the government pay for the repairs when the heating in his house broke down, preferring to wear his own military overcoat instead!"

"How could he... how could he possibly be 'Shadow'?"

Ghost Hand's eyes reddened, a mixture of anger and despair from having his worldview shattered.

Liu Ming did not speak.

He stared intently at the electronic fingerprint in the lower right corner of the screen, which had undergone multiple verifications and was displayed as "absolutely matching".

That fingerprint was imprinted on the last classified report of the failed "Switching the Sun" operation, and it was also imprinted on the $300 million key package that was just recovered from the Cayman Islands.

The truth is colder than any eloquence, and crueler than any conspiracy.

"A great villain may appear loyal."

Liu Ming spoke slowly, her voice as cold as ice, each word seemingly squeezed out from between her teeth.

"We've all been fooled by him for thirty years."

Liu Ming closed her eyes, and images of Qian Zhixian in the public eye flashed through her mind.

That was Qian Zhixian, wearing a patched white shirt, queuing for food with the cleaners in the most rudimentary canteen. That was Qian Zhixian, who couldn't even bear to buy fruit so he could donate an extra two thousand yuan to children in impoverished areas.

That was Qian Zhixian, who even slammed his fist on the table and berated a minister for his extravagance and waste during a council meeting.

He is a moral monument in the officialdom of China and a spiritual totem in the hearts of countless young cadres.

But who could have imagined that beneath this monument lies an abyss filled with bones and blood!

He rode his bicycle to high-ranking positions to meet with spies on the way; he ate the simplest meals to cover up the illicit flow of his vast fortunes every second; and he vehemently condemned wastefulness.

It was because he felt it was a waste to waste that money on food and drink, and that it would be better to sell it to overseas forces in exchange for more leverage.

"Ghost Hand, investigate his family background."

Liu Ming opened her eyes, and the bloodshot color in them surged again.

"Boss, I checked. His account is as clean as a blank sheet of paper. He has no property, no savings, and his only asset is that old apartment in the high-rise housing complex."

Ghost Hand looked somewhat dejected.

"No. He doesn't want money."

Liu Ming stared into the old man's eyes in the photo. The gaze that seemed to transcend time and space gave him an unprecedented sense of unease.

What he wants is... a sense of control.

"He enjoys the thrill of manipulating everyone, and he enjoys the perverse satisfaction of watching everyone worship him, only to have them sent to hell by his own hands."

"He trained my father to be his 'scapegoat,' but my father refused, so he had to die."

Liu Ming's voice trembled slightly, a sign of losing control after extreme anger.

"He has been very attentive to me these past few days, and even helped me suppress Zhao Ruihu and Luo Binwang. It's not because he thinks highly of me, but because he feels that... my knife is sharper and easier to use than my father's."

"As long as I kill all the dissidents, he, this 'shadow,' will be the only order in the land of Kyushu."

……

The screen in the locked room flickered again.

Ghost Hand unearthed another set of top-secret logs hidden beneath the pixels of the photos.

Those were communication records spanning ten years.

[October 12th, the plan is progressing smoothly; Jian Guo has entered the game.] [October 18th, Jian Guo discovers something amiss; he cannot be allowed to remain; a swift resolution is necessary.] [October 25th, the dust has settled; his son has been sent away and need not be pursued further.]

Looking at these cold, hard words.

Liu Ming felt a sharp pain in her chest.

This is the truth, the truth he has been searching for for ten years, a truth that is so filthy and so absurd.

That leader who kept claiming to be working for the country and its people was actually a butcher who personally severed the backbone of the nation.

"Boss... what do we do now?"

Ghost Hand looked at Liu Ming with a confused expression in his eyes.

"Arrest them?"

"That's the leader. Without special approval from higher-ups and irrefutable evidence, we'll be considered treason the moment we show our faces."

"What is he doing now?"

Liu Ming asked.

The ghostly hand tapped on the keyboard, accessing the satellite surveillance footage of the high-rise residential compound.

In the scene, under the moonlight, Mr. Qian still looks poor and lonely. He is sitting alone under the grape trellis in the small courtyard, holding a tattered newspaper in his hand, reading it intently by the dim light of the street lamp.

No matter how you look at it, that image depicts a hero who dedicated his life to his country, and whose later years were desolate yet peaceful.

"He's waiting."

Liu Ming stared at the monitor screen, a cruel and cold smile curving her lips.

"He's waiting for that fake 'sixth-generation fighter jet engine' technology to spread overseas, and he's waiting for his last 'pension' to arrive."

"He thought he had won in this life, and he thought he could go to Babaoshan with this 'clean reputation'."

Liu Ming stood up.

In that dimly lit secret room, he was like a demon god returning from hell.

That black suit, at this moment, exuded an aura even more sinister than the Dragon Fang combat uniform.

"Old man, it's time for you to finish this charade."

Liu Ming turned her head and looked at the kind old face on the screen.

There was no longer a trace of tenderness in his eyes; all that remained was boundless killing intent, intent that seemed to burn the entire world to ashes.

"Ghost Hand, synchronize all data with the top leader."

"Notify all members of 'Dragon Shield' to bring live ammunition."

"Let's go see Mr. Qian off... in his final moments."

Liu Ming strode towards the exit of the secret room.

Every step he took resonated with the pulse of this land, each step carrying a resolute determination to overturn the times.

"A villain disguised as a loyal subject, this performance is quite good."

His voice echoed in the empty corridor.

"Unfortunately, your platform has collapsed."