Mastering the Sword Manual, sweeping across the globe

They are chaotic and disorderly, yet they subtly form a vast and realistic ukiyo-e (woodblock print) picture:

There is the warmth of daily life, the anxiety of hoping one's son will become a dragon, the scheming of petty transactions, the numbness of just getting by, the escapism of immersing oneself in the virtual world, and the tranquility of finding joy in one's own little world.

There is flattery of power, forbearance of injustice, complaints about life, and appreciation for small moments of happiness.

As I said before, there are already countless places in this world where people's thoughts are not clear, and for those who have entered the realm of the extraordinary, there are even more to see.

Zhang Qiliang withdrew his senses and his gaze fell on the fifth floor of a building diagonally opposite.

With a slight movement, like a cat stalking in the night, he silently slid down the outer wall, and after a few drifts, he hovered precisely outside the window on the fifth floor of the building.

My fingers touched the edge of the window frame, and with a slight tremor, the internal latch silently popped open.

The curtains were pulled open a crack, and Zhang Qiliang slipped in sideways, landing almost silently.

This is a suite whose interior decoration is significantly more refined than the building's exterior.

The living room wasn't large, with beige faux wood flooring, a nicely made fabric sofa, and a shiny glass coffee table with a white porcelain tea set and fruit plate on it.

The smell of takeout dinner still lingered in the air, mixed with sweet fragrances and lingering steam.

The master bedroom door was ajar, warm light shone through, accompanied by the low hum of a hairdryer and the soft hum of a young woman humming an off-key pop song.

The door to the master bedroom was suddenly pulled open.

A middle-aged man in his early forties came out, wearing a neatly pressed light gray business jacket, but the buttons were undone, and his face showed displeasure and wariness at being disturbed.

He was slightly overweight, with his hair neatly combed and wearing gold-rimmed glasses. His eyes, behind the lenses, quickly scanned the dimly lit living room and instantly locked onto Zhang Qiliang, who was standing by the window.

"Who are you?!" The man's voice was low, with his usual stern commanding tone, as he took a slight step back and reached into his pocket with his right hand.

The questioning abruptly ended.

The unfamiliar young man with black-rimmed glasses casually raised his hand and gently placed a cold-looking, matte-finish handgun on the glass coffee table.

"Click".

A soft sound rang out clearly in the suddenly quiet living room.

As if he had just put down an insignificant object, the young man sat down on the sofa, leaned back to find a comfortable position, and even adjusted the cushions.

The hairdryer in the master bedroom has stopped.

A young woman, wrapped in a white bathrobe and with her hair still wet and draped over her shoulders, walked out of the master bedroom, drying her hair with a towel in her hand.

She had a pretty face and looked no more than twenty-five years old. The belt of her bathrobe was tied loosely, revealing her slender collarbone and a patch of fair skin.

Her face had a languid flush from a bath, and her gaze casually drifted across the living room—

The next second, she froze, unaware that the towel had slipped from her hand.

Her eyes were wide open, staring intently at the cold pistol on the coffee table. The color drained from her face rapidly, and her lips trembled slightly, but she couldn't utter a sound.

“You just asked me who I am.” The young man on the sofa finally spoke, looking up at the middle-aged man standing stiffly in the bedroom doorway: “Generally speaking, when asking someone who they are, you should first introduce yourself.”

As he spoke, the young man reached out and picked up a small stainless steel tweezer, presumably used for picking up sugar cubes, from next to the fruit plate on the coffee table.

The young man pinched the tip of the tweezers with two fingers, seemingly without applying any force, just casually kneading it like clay.

"Squeak..."

A faint, sickening metallic creaking sound rang out.

The sturdy stainless steel tweezers, right at his fingertips, were like wax melted by high temperatures, bending, curling, and kneading helplessly until they finally became an irregular little metal ball.

The young man casually placed the small metal lump back on the coffee table, next to the pistol.

"This is me... Okay, now it's your turn to introduce yourself."

As he spoke, the young man shifted to a more relaxed sitting posture, crossed his legs, and calmly looked at the middle-aged man whose face was beginning to turn pale. "Well, let's start with your resume. What year you were born, where you went to school, what year you started working, what position you held, what business you were in charge of... Take your time, we're not in a hurry."

The middle-aged man was stunned.

The young man who suddenly appeared wasn't in a hurry at all. He didn't urge them at all, and even stretched his neck a little. Then, he politely turned to the stunned young woman and nodded.

"Excuse me, ma'am, could you please pour me a cup of tea?"

The young woman shuddered, as if waking from a dream.

She glanced at the middle-aged man in horror, then quickly looked at the gun and iron ball on the coffee table. Almost instinctively, she staggered to the water dispenser, her hands trembling so badly she almost dropped her teacup.

Seeing this, the middle-aged man broke out in a cold sweat.

Without going into what that pistol meant.

It doesn't even mention what the terrifying finger strength that can crush stainless steel so easily means.

After suddenly barging in and taking control of the situation, the first request he made was, "Pour me a cup of tea first..."

This setup clearly indicates they're about to make a big splash.

26. To slander someone's innocence out of thin air

It took the lady quite a while to pour Zhang Qiliang some tea.

“Pour a drink for this…” Zhang Qiliang thought for a moment, “…your friend as well.”

The woman did as she was told, and with trembling hands, poured a glass for the middle-aged man as well.

The subtle sound of tea being poured into a porcelain cup was amplified infinitely in the deathly silent living room.

She gently pushed the cup in front of the two of them, her fingers curling back as she withdrew it.

As if he hadn't noticed the increasingly fine beads of sweat on the man's forehead, Zhang Qiliang raised his hand, as if he were greeting a friend in his own home: "Why are you standing? Don't be so formal, sit down."

The man's Adam's apple bobbed, and he obediently sat down on the single sofa to the side, his back ramrod straight, not daring to relax at all.

The light gray executive jacket now felt like a heavy, out-of-place shell, clinging to his slightly overweight body.

"By the way," Zhang Qiliang extended his hand, "would it be convenient to borrow your phone?"

The man didn't hesitate at all, or rather, the pistol on the coffee table and the stainless steel tweezers crumpled into a ball of iron had already made all the choices for him.

He quickly took out his phone from his inner pocket, entered the password to unlock it, and respectfully handed it to Zhang Qiliang with both hands.

Zhang Qiliang took it and quickly swiped his finger across the screen.

A few minutes later, after finishing the setup, Zhang Qiliang glanced around the living room, picked up an ashtray and a few books from the coffee table, adjusted the lampshade, and soon a sturdy phone stand was set up.

He inserted the man's phone into the camera, and the camera lens was steadily pointed at the pale-faced middle-aged man on the sofa.

The screen is lit.

"Alright," Zhang Qiliang said, leaning back on the sofa after finishing all that. He picked up his cup of tea and took a small sip. "You can start introducing yourself now."

Recorded? Or live?

The middle-aged man was filled with fear and doubt. He couldn't figure out what kind of person the man in front of him was up to, but years of experience had given him an instinctive intuition: judging from the power the man was displaying, his style of doing things, and the seemingly childish yet chilling form of "investigation" he was currently using, this was absolutely, absolutely not someone from any censorate department—no, it was not something anyone within any known institutional framework would do.

However, when you're under someone's roof, you have to bow your head.

The gun barrels and the iron weights defined the laws of physics here. The middle-aged man took a deep breath, trying to make his voice sound steady, and began his self-introduction, which he had recited countless times but now found incredibly difficult to understand:

“My name is Zhou Mingyuan, born in 679, and I am a local.”

"His educational background... was initially that of a Xiucai (a scholar who passed the county-level imperial examination), and he graduated from the State Economic Academy."

"After starting work, with the care of the imperial court, from 705 to 705, I studied economic management at the Xingcheng branch of the Da Yang Dynasty Administrative Academy while working, and obtained the degree of Juren..."

"Since starting work, I have worked in various government offices, and currently serve as... currently a sub-department head in the municipal government office."

The middle-aged man finished speaking in one breath without pausing, as if afraid that if he stopped, he would never be able to continue.

Zhang Qiliang listened quietly without interrupting, only occasionally picking up his teacup to take a sip.

After Zhou Mingyuan finished speaking, Zhang Qiliang put down his teacup, nodded, and said in an unreadable tone, "Your resume is quite impressive... From the grassroots to the city, you've worked in multiple positions. It seems you've done a lot for the urban development and people's service of our Great Yang Dynasty."

"It's my duty, it's what I'm supposed to do," Zhou Mingyuan replied reflexively, his face plastered with the usual humble smile he wore when facing superiors or the public. But in this moment and place, that smile seemed incredibly stiff and strange.

“Alright,” Zhang Qiliang seemed to accept his statement and naturally followed up the conversation: “Then tell me specifically what ‘duties’ you’ve done.”

“…Huh?” Zhou Mingyuan’s smile froze.

"There's too much to cover, you don't know where to begin, do you?" Zhang Qiliang nodded understandingly. "Let's start with your current department—the Urban Construction Division of the Municipal Administration. Give a brief report on your main responsibilities this year, what you've accomplished, and what the results have been."

Zhou Mingyuan took a deep breath and forced himself to get into the zone.

Fortunately, we just had a mid-year work summary meeting a few days ago, so the materials are still relatively fresh.

Fortunately, at his level, he still needs to personally oversee many specific data points, so he's not completely clueless when asked.

He adjusted his posture, focusing his gaze as much as possible on Zhang Qiliang's face rather than the camera flashing red dot, and adopted the clear, data-driven tone he used when reporting to the deputy prefect in charge:

"Very well. This year, under the strong leadership of the magistrate and the specific guidance of the deputy magistrate in charge, the Urban Construction Department has focused on the central goal of 'improving the level of refined urban management and ensuring the safe operation of municipal facilities,' and has carried out the following work, achieving certain results."

"First, regarding the maintenance and upkeep of municipal infrastructure, we adhere to the principle of 'prevention first, combined with control,' implementing a combination of routine inspections and planned maintenance of main and secondary roads, bridges, underpasses, and other facilities within our jurisdiction. As of this month, we have completed..."

"Secondly, regarding the construction and use of special projects and funds, our company was mainly responsible for or coordinated the advancement of two key municipal livelihood projects this year. One is the 'Streetlight Supplementation Project in Backstreets and Alleys of the Old City,' for which we applied for and received approval for 180 million yuan in special government funds, and it has now been completed..."

"Thirdly, regarding internal management and team building, our department currently has six on-staff clerks and four contracted assistants. This year, we strictly implemented the various learning systems of the government office, organized four professional training sessions, and focused on learning..."

"Overall, the company's work in the first half of the year was stable and orderly, and most indicators met expectations. However, there were some difficulties and challenges, such as the serious aging of some facilities and the pressure on maintenance funds; the slower-than-expected progress of a few projects due to planning adjustments or coordination issues with surrounding areas; and the increasing scope and refinement of management requirements as the city expands, sometimes making the existing staff insufficient. We need to actively seek support and work hard to overcome these challenges in our future work."

After finishing his report, Zhou Mingyuan stopped, his palms sweating profusely, but he consciously maintained the standard expected of a section-level cadre in his tone and content.

“Okay,” Zhang Qiliang said this time, no longer hesitant. “Let’s go through it one by one.”

"The first item, as you just mentioned, involves milling and paving approximately 15 kilometers of asphalt pavement on the main roads, repairing approximately 8200 square meters of damaged sidewalk pavers and curb stones, and addressing over 370 instances of various road defects such as potholes and cracks..."

"So, in these projects that benefit the country and its people, how many kilometers, how many square meters, how many defects... are there in the parts that you personally handled or were aware of? Are there parts that you, or some people around you, felt were 'somewhat interesting'? Or that you needed to 'show some appreciation' outside the formal procedures to ensure smooth progress? Or... could the standards be 'appropriately relaxed' in terms of materials and acceptance?"

“Absolutely not!” Zhou Mingyuan blurted out, his face filled with offended anger.

"All projects are strictly implemented in accordance with the Bidding Law and the Municipal Bureau's Engineering Management Regulations. There are clear procedures and multi-party supervision for fund use, material procurement, construction supervision, and final acceptance. Our company is only responsible for coordination and preliminary acceptance. The situations you mentioned simply do not exist! This is a matter of principle and a red line of discipline!"

His rebuttal was forceful and consistent with the first reaction expected of an official whose integrity has been questioned.

Zhang Qiliang smiled, said nothing, and just looked at him quietly.

There was no mockery or anger in that smile, only a kind of almost pure...observational interest.

Just like the people in the laboratory, watching the microorganisms in the petri dish respond to stimuli.

The observational abilities of extraordinary individuals go far beyond simply having sharp ears and eyes.

When an extraordinary person concentrates their mind and sharpens their perception to a certain degree, the subtle acceleration of the other person's heartbeat, the dilation of capillaries in the auricle caused by the rush of blood, the instantaneous contraction and dilation of the pupils under stress, the unnatural tension of the vocal cord muscles, and even the slight change in the rate of sweat evaporation on the skin surface... all these subtle physiological signals converge into an unhideable wave called "feeling guilty," which clearly and unmistakably crashes onto the shore of perception.

Moreover, Zhang Qiliang's visit was not due to any ambiguous or suggestive scenes.

Those two hours of listening on the rooftop were not in vain.

“Oh, no… Well then,” Zhang Qi nodded, “what did you mean when you called ‘Old Liu’ at 7:10 p.m. and said, ‘Think of a way to make the material report for that batch of manhole covers pass, and I’ve already negotiated the price. Don’t worry, you’ll get your share of the compensation’?”

Zhou Mingyuan's breath hitched.

Before he could react, Zhang Qiliang continued calmly:

"Also, at 7:36, you called someone named 'Engineer Wang' and said, 'When the newly paved asphalt on Jiefang East Road is being compacted, the thickness index should be slightly adjusted, don't be too strict, the boss there knows how to handle things.' What did you mean by that?"

Each word was like a cold hammer, precisely striking the shell that Zhou Mingyuan had just constructed, a shell called innocence.

"I...I didn't! This is a frame-up!" Zhou Mingyuan's face turned pale visibly, his lips trembling slightly. "I was just...just having normal work communication with them! I don't know where you heard this from, but it's absolutely slander! It's taken out of context!"

"Alright then." Zhang Qiliang's face showed helplessness. He reached out and touched Zhou Mingyuan's hand, which was resting on his knee.

This action made Zhou Mingyuan freeze, instinctively wanting to pull back, but he didn't dare to actually move.

Zhang Qiliang stopped halfway through extending his hand.

His gaze wandered casually around the room before settling on a roll of wide, transparent tape peeking out from under the TV cabinet.

Zhang Qiliang walked over, bent down to take out the tape, and walked back to Zhou Mingyuan with it.

"What...what are you going to do?" Zhou Mingyuan's voice changed completely, filled with uncontrollable terror.

His body involuntarily shrank back, pressing against the back of the sofa, his eyes fixed on the ordinary roll of tape, as if he had seen some monstrous monster.

Looking at the deformed tweezers on the table, then at the stranger's calm gaze, and repeatedly scanning his own mouth, his behavior and intentions couldn't be clearer.

"Torture to extract confessions is illegal!"

27. No victims.

Zhang Qiliang tore off several pieces of tape, making a slight ripping sound.

The situation became clear, and panic completely overwhelmed any remaining hope.

"The phone call at 7:10... yes, it's about a new batch of composite material manhole covers!"