Mastering the Sword Manual, sweeping across the globe

More than 11 hours have passed since Zhang Qiliang destroyed the phone.

The police only began to take him seriously and search for him around 6 p.m., after online public opinion had escalated and the government's legal publicity department had issued instructions.

Before that, it was just an ordinary dispute that hadn't even been formally filed.

Zhang Qiliang had a whole day to spare.

“Captain Li,” Wang Lei walked over with a small notebook, “I asked the neighbor in apartment 502 next door. An old lady said that this morning, around 9:30 to 10:00, she heard the door next door close, and then footsteps coming downstairs. She was in the kitchen at the time and didn’t look through the peephole. But she said that the young man is usually quite quiet, and today the door closing sound was ‘a bit loud.’”

“From 9:30 to 10:00…” Li Rui repeated the time, “which matches the time when his cell phone signal disappeared.”

"Yes. Also, the convenience store owner downstairs said that around 10 o'clock, he saw Zhang Qiliang carrying a black backpack come out of the building entrance and walk eastward. He was walking quite fast, but he seemed normal and didn't run away. The owner also said that he was wondering at the time, 'Isn't this young man going to work today?'"

With my bag on my back, I headed east.

"East... what direction is it after leaving the group's location? Is there surveillance?"

“There’s an old security camera at the east gate of the community, and the angle might not be very good. We’ve already sent someone to adjust it.” Wang Lei paused. “Captain Li, looking at it this way… he left around 10 a.m. as usual. At that time, we didn’t even know if this case was legitimate or not.”

Li Rui nodded. The logic was clear: After the incident, Zhang Qiliang went back to the company to get his things, then went home, quickly disassembled the hard drive, smashed his phone, and calmly left a few hours before the police launched their investigation, carrying a backpack that he had already packed (or packed temporarily).

He simply ran away.

But why?

Li Rui walked over to the pile of cell phone wreckage, where his colleagues from the technical team were taking photos as evidence.

He looked at the electronic devices that had been deliberately, even ritualistically, destroyed.

"Wang Lei," Li Rui began, "if you were in that situation and assaulted someone in the street, even if the other person was at fault first, what would you do?"

Wang Lei thought for a moment: "Me? I'd probably... panic a little, but I'd also think, is there any way to mediate? At worst, I'd pay some money and be nice. The worst that could happen is a few days in jail, right? For something like this, I'd give up my job? My family? Run away? Is it really worth it?"

“Yeah, is it really necessary?” Li Rui looked at the empty hard drive bay. “Fifteen days of detention at most, a few hundred or a few thousand in fines. But what he chose was to completely cut off contact, destroy any electronic devices that could be tracked, abandon his stable job and residence, and just run away…”

He turned around to face the shabby rented room: "This reaction, this decisiveness, this preparation... it's too much."

Wang Lei seemed thoughtful: "You mean... he might have had a problem to begin with? Or, the incident of hitting someone triggered something else?"

"Check his file, check all his records, the more detailed the better." Li Rui's voice was cold. "An ordinary programmer shouldn't have this kind of counter-surveillance awareness and decisiveness. His behavior doesn't seem like someone facing legal risks for the first time. It's more like..."

"Like what?"

“He looks like someone with a criminal record, or…someone who’s always ready to go on the run,” Li Rui said slowly. “If we hadn’t just checked his file and knew he was clean, just looking at the scene and the actions, I would believe he was a habitual offender with a major case on the run for many years. And only a serious offender with a sentence of more than seven years would have such a reaction.”

But the files are clean.

At least, the official records are clean.

The technical team leader approached: "Team Leader Li, the phone was completely destroyed. The tool looked like a hammer or something similar, but we didn't find it in the room. The hard drive was taken, probably to prevent data recovery. Also, we found a very small amount of ash on the edge of the drain filter in the bathroom. It might be from burnt paper, but the amount was too small to determine what it was."

Burning things? Destroying a phone? Disassembling a hard drive?

What is he covering up? Or rather, what is he "dealing with"?

"Contact his company and see what's left at his workstation," Li Rui ordered. "Also, check his recent phone calls, social media activity, and spending records, especially large or unusual expenditures. Investigate his interpersonal relationships for any unusual contact. He ran away so decisively; there must be a reason and preparation supporting his decision. Find that reason."

Wang Lei quickly jotted it down, then pressed on, "But Captain Li, the problem is, what should we do now? The person's escaped, the stuff's destroyed, and this is all the information we have. What should we do next..."

Li Rui raised his hand and rubbed his temples; this was indeed the most pressing problem at the moment.

“Let’s report to the higher-ups first,” he sighed. “Explain the situation clearly: someone was assaulted, there is evidence, but he overreacted, went missing, and destroyed items; his behavior is abnormal. Request that he be summoned on the grounds of an administrative case.”

He paused, his tone tinged with helplessness: "What else can we do? We can't just issue a warrant for arrest over something like this before we find out anything, can we?"

Theoretically, the most that can be done right now is to summon him—even entering his room without proper procedures is already considered a gray area…

Wang Lei frowned as well: "Yes, if he's determined to hide, and we can't get him summoned even once, we don't have much follow-up enforcement power. Unless..."

“Unless this escalates, or he causes something even bigger.” Li Rui continued, his gaze sweeping over the pile of deliberately smashed phone fragments on the ground. A thought suddenly flashed through his mind, “Could this be his purpose?”

"Purpose?" Wang Lei asked, puzzled.

“We’ve kept the matter at the level of ‘administrative case, suspect missing’,” Li Rui said slowly, as if organizing his thoughts. “It makes us feel that something is wrong with him, but procedurally we can’t fully investigate. He’s been given a kind of… ambiguous space to move freely. But what’s the point of that?”

He shook his head, feeling that his guess was a bit far-fetched, but Zhang Qiliang's series of clean and efficient actions, which far exceeded the necessary level, could not be explained by common sense.

"Forget about the significance for now, follow the procedures and find out everything you can." Li Rui waved his hand, ending the topic. "Hurry up, I have a feeling... this person won't just disappear like that."

6. Crossing states and provinces

Where is Zhang Qiliang now?

To be honest, he himself wasn't quite sure.

Around 10 a.m., he left his rented room, carrying a backpack stuffed with a few changes of clothes and all his cash, and headed straight for the East Bus Station—but didn't go in.

He stood outside the station, watching the long-distance buses slowly leaving the station area and heading to various destinations.

He selected a car, with the only selection criterion being the destination province, a place he had never been to before and had never had any connection with.

The bus kept stopping and starting, traveling through states and provinces.

Zhang Qiliang dozed off several times in the car, and each time he woke up, he looked out the window at the completely unfamiliar fields and mountains rushing past.

He did not get off at any of the stops along the way until the bus pulled into the long-distance bus station in the capital of the neighboring province.

At four o'clock in the afternoon, he stood at the exit of a bus station in this unfamiliar provincial capital city.

A stream of people speaking various dialects surged past him, the air thick with the mixed smells of dust, gasoline, and street food.

He tossed a tree branch he had casually broken off into the air, and the branch fell, pointing eastward.

He carried his bag and walked in that direction, finding a bathhouse with a faded sign that looked quite old.

Soaking in the warm bath, the rising steam blurred his vision, and Zhang Qiliang let out a long breath.

He knew that although his efforts were not foolproof, he had gone to such lengths for the sake of the steamed bun shop. If the fast-track team came knocking on his door again in the near future, it would be too outrageous.

Yes, he didn't know if things had escalated to the point where the fast track had to get involved, but he assessed that the possibility was not low.

Once they are approached, there are only two outcomes: either bow down and apologize to the old man, or accept the maximum penalty.

Given Tongda Jianjing's nature, an apology is absolutely out of the question—and accepting punishment, even just a fine or detention, is certainly not something he'll be able to accept.

In fact, from the moment he decided to flee and avoid direct conflict with the authorities, his "thoughts" were no longer so clear.

He could clearly feel that since he embarked on his escape, his physical condition had been slowly but steadily declining.

Unlike the dramatic, step-by-step changes in the morning, it decays like water dripping on stone, decreasing by about 0.01 times every hour.

From a peak initial value of 1.9 times, it has now dropped to approximately 1.77 times after being submerged in the pool.

Moreover, the most troublesome thing is that, judging from this situation, or rather, based on Zhang Qiliang's understanding of himself, the negative impact of this decision to back down is like a continuously effective debuff curse.

Even if he does other enjoyable things afterward and his strength increases as a result, this mental obstacle will continue to hold him back and offset some of his gains.

Unless... he settles this score completely.

But what does "completely ending" mean? Zhang Qiliang doesn't even dare to think about that scene now.

After taking a bath, Zhang Qiliang closed his eyes and rested on a recliner in the rest area, carefully going over the next steps in his mind.

At 6 p.m., it was getting dark.

He changed into the oldest, faded T-shirt and jeans from his backpack to make himself look even more destitute.

He hailed a taxi and told the driver a place name he'd heard from the locals—a mixed area west of the provincial capital, known for its cheap hotels, day jobs, and idle transient population.

The car stopped at an intersection, and the scene before us was immediately separated from the bustling city center.

The narrow street is lined with drab self-built buildings, the ground floor of which is crammed with neon signs advertising "XX Job Agency", "Cheap Accommodation" and "Internet Cafe".

Many young people with blank stares squatted or stood by the roadside, some smoking alone, others chatting in low voices in groups of three or five. The air was filled with the smell of cheap tobacco, sweat, and fried food.

A van advertising job openings was parked haphazardly on the roadside, and the driver leaned out and shouted, "Loading and unloading workers, 200 yuan a day" and "Electronics factory interviews tonight."

Everything here exudes an air of temporality and uncertainty.

Zhang Qiliang didn't go to those job posting sites to join the fun.

He found a relatively conspicuous street corner, a place with many people coming and going, where he could observe the whole situation, squatted down, bought the cheapest bottle of liquor from a nearby convenience store, unscrewed the cap, and slowly poured it around his body. The strong, pungent smell of liquor immediately filled the air.

Then, he lit a cigarette, took two puffs, stubbed it out, and threw it on the ground. He repeated this process, and soon there were more than a dozen cigarette butts scattered around his feet.

Coupled with his old clothes and deliberately downcast, dejected eyes, the image of a desperate man drowning his sorrows in alcohol quickly takes shape.

Sure enough, within half an hour, several groups of people were drawn to this "target".

A dark-skinned middle-aged man handed over his business card: "Hey bro, wanna do food delivery? Rent a car, deposit 500, and earning over 10,000 a month is no dream!"

A young man in an inexpensive suit spoke fluently: "Nighttime sorting, cash on delivery! Twenty-five yuan an hour, right here in the logistics park, pick-up and drop-off service!"

There was also a smiling older woman who leaned closer and whispered, "Young man, I think you're a very honest person. There's a great opportunity to make money. The investment isn't big, and the returns are quick. It mainly depends on your connections... Are you interested in learning more?"

Zhang Qiliang blankly accepted each business card or flyer handed to him, nodded, mumbled a few "hmm" sounds, and memorized the contact information and basic details, but without exception, he shook his head and refused them all, only making his "disappointment" and "hesitation" even more convincing.

These are not what he is waiting for.

About half an hour later, it was completely dark, and the streetlights came on, casting a dim yellow glow.

A man in his early thirties, wearing a plaid shirt and jeans, with an ordinary appearance and a cigarette between his fingers, strolled over slowly.

He circled the area twice, his gaze seemingly casually sweeping over Zhang Qiliang, who was squatting there, as well as the ring of wine stains and cigarette butts around him. A faint smile appeared on his lips.

Finally, he stopped in front of Zhang Qiliang, squatted down, and offered him a cigarette: "Brother, you've been squatting here for ages, looks like you've run into some trouble?"

He exhaled a smoke ring, his eyes scanning Zhang Qiliang. "ID card... are you selling it? I'll pay a high price, all paperwork is clean, and I'll settle the payment on the spot."

"Sell it," Zhang Qiliang looked up, his eyes revealing a desperate urgency. "How much?"

"100." The other person held up their index finger.

Zhang Qiliang immediately shook his head.

The other party clicked their tongue: "Alright, I see you're not having an easy time either, 200. That's the price. Take it or leave it. I'm just helping someone out and taking the risk."

Zhang Qiliang hesitated for a few seconds, then nodded: "Okay..."

He reached into his pocket, pretending to take out his ID card.

"Hey, stop!" The other person quickly grabbed his hand. "Brother, there are too many people around here. Let's find a quiet place."

He led Zhang Qiliang into a dimly lit, cluttered alley.

When they reached the depths of the alley, the other person stopped, took out two crumpled hundred-yuan bills from his pocket, and held out his other hand to Zhang Qiliang.

Zhang Qiliang shook his head: "Never mind... I'd rather not sell."

After saying that, he turned and walked towards the alley entrance.

"Damn it!" The other person was stunned for a moment, then their temper flared up, and they caught up in two strides. "Are you fucking kidding me? Are you crazy?!"

Zhang Qiliang stopped and turned around, his face expressionless: "What the hell are you talking about?"

I received the goods and was still tricked. What's the point of all this? The jeans not only continued to be harassed, but also reached out to grab Zhang Qiliang's collar.

He had only raised his hand halfway when he felt a gust of wind hit his face.

Snapped!

For the first time, I realized that seeing stars wasn't a figurative expression, but a real blackout, with afterglow flickering on my retina like golden stars.

It took seven or eight seconds for the man in jeans to come to his senses. He covered his face, both shocked and angry, but when he met Zhang Qiliang's eyes, all the rest of his words got stuck in his throat.

That look... was terrifyingly calm, yet something else seemed to be hidden deep within it; it was definitely not the look of a young man who was desperate and had to sell his ID card.

He shut up, subconsciously took a half step back, and his eyes showed surprise and fear.

Zhang Qiliang didn't look at him again, turned around, and walked out of the alley at a leisurely pace.

In the short process of turning around, taking a step, and leaving, a familiar warmth, faint but continuous, emerged.

1.77, 1.78, 1.79, 1.80...

As I stepped out of the alley and into the mixed light and shadow of the main street, I was 1.85 meters tall.

As he blended into the crowd and moved away from that area without looking back, 1.90.

See, their strength has returned!

Moreover, the chances of this guy reporting it to the authorities are extremely low.

However, what Zhang Qiliang was really concerned about at the moment was not physical fitness, but the two hard cards in his pocket that still carried the warmth of other people's bodies.

With physical abilities 1.77 times greater than others, and in the long two minutes it took to walk from the trading point to the alley entrance, Zhang Qiliang's hands, which were more agile than most people could imagine, managed to borrow two ID cards from the scalper's bulging shirt pocket.