An extremely repressed sense of tension, like dancing on the edge of a blade.

I put on my forensic gloves.

Carefully, I opened the bag and took out the fountain pen.

It felt cool to the touch.

The metallic texture was heavy.

My fingers gripped the barrel.

I closed my eyes.

Instantly.

Countless chaotic images flooded into my mind.

Not hallucinations.

They were more like countless photos flashing by rapidly.

A telegraph paper filled with codes.

A dim basement.

A ticking transmitter.

A pair of hands typing rapidly on a keyboard.

Those hands were steady, with distinct knuckles.

But the owner of the hands had a fast-beating heart.

I could "hear" that pounding heartbeat.

Every keystroke felt like a gamble.

Outside the window, there was an unfamiliar European street scene.

Patrolling soldiers walked by.

The sound of boots on the cobblestone road was exceptionally clear.

The scene shifted again.

A secret meeting.

On a park bench.

Two people exchanged intelligence using a newspaper.

I couldn't see their faces clearly.

But I could feel the atmosphere of suspicion and panic.

Betrayal, lies, death.

These words were branded into this pen like a mark.

Finally, the scene froze.

Those hands that had been typing on the keyboard dropped listlessly.

The fountain pen slid from his grip.

It hit the floor.

Making a crisp sound.

I opened my eyes abruptly.

My forehead was covered in cold sweat.

"How was it?" Captain Stone asked urgently.

I gasped for air.

"The owner of this pen is dead."

"He was a spy. Or, to be more precise, an intelligence agent."

"He worked abroad for a long time, transmitting information."

"He was very lonely, very nervous, and lived in constant danger."

"In the end, he was exposed. He... committed suicide."

After I finished saying this, I felt as if all the strength in my body had been drained away.

Director Chen and Captain Stone exchanged a look.

In their eyes was shock they couldn't hide.

Director Chen spoke slowly.

"Everything you said is correct."

"The owner of this pen went by the codename 'K'."

"He was one of our country's most important intelligence agents, having spent thirty years undercover behind enemy lines."

"Half a year ago, his cover was blown; to prevent secrets from falling into enemy hands, he took poison and died."

"This fountain pen is his only relic, and we spent a great deal of effort to bring it back."

Director Chen stood up and walked over to me.

His expression was unprecedentedly serious.

He reached out his hand to me.

"Comrade Julian."

"On behalf of 'Bureau Nine,' I welcome you to our ranks."

Chapter 14

Bureau Nine.

A name I had never heard before.

A department that did not exist in any public document.

My transfer paperwork was processed with astonishing speed.

Publicly, it was announced that I had been transferred to the Policy Research Office of the General Administration of Customs.

I had become a civilian staff member.

My colleagues threw a farewell party for me.

They all envied me, saying my future was limitless.

Only I knew what kind of future I was heading toward.

When saying goodbye to Captain Stone.

He gave me a firm hug.

"Julian, once you get over there, be careful with everything."

"Remember, your ability is your weapon, but it may also be your weakness."

"Protect yourself."

I nodded, my eyes feeling a bit hot.

Without Captain Stone, I wouldn't be who I am today.

He was like an older brother to me, and also my guide.

Early the next morning.

A black Hongqi sedan parked right on time downstairs.

The driver was Director Chen’s secretary.

A taciturn young man.

The car drove westward, heading toward the suburbs.

Finally, it stopped in front of a courtyard surrounded by high walls and electric fences.

It looked like a sanatorium.

Lush trees and a tranquil environment.

But the sentries standing guard at the gate and the cameras hidden in the shadows.

All indicated that this place was far from ordinary.

The heavy gates opened slowly.

We drove inside.

It was much larger than I had imagined.

There were training grounds, laboratory buildings, and dormitories.

Everything was orderly, yet tinged with a solemn, murderous aura.

I was brought in front of a dormitory building.

"Comrade Julian, from today on, you will live and train here."

"Your codename is 'Antenna'."

"Remember, from the moment you step through this door, your past and your name are temporarily sealed."

"You are only a probationary member of Bureau Nine, 'Antenna'."

I was taken into a room.

A single room, furnished simply.

A bed, a desk, a wardrobe.

On the desk lay a new set of training fatigues and a handbook.

On the cover of the handbook, there were only two words.

"Code of Conduct."

I opened the handbook.

Page one, line one.

"Absolute loyalty, absolute secrecy."

For the next three months, I underwent the most grueling training of my life.

Physical endurance, combat, marksmanship, intelligence analysis, psychological warfare.

Everything was conducted to the highest standards.

At the end of every day's training, I was as exhausted as a dead dog.

But the most tiring part wasn't the physical aspect.

It was my "ability training."

My instructor, whose surname was Yan, was a man of few words.

Every day, he would bring all sorts of "evidence."

Asking me to touch and perceive them.

A blood-stained brick.

A rusty dagger.

A sloppy suicide note.

Behind every single object lay a story filled with negative emotions.

Violence, despair, madness, death.

Time and time again, I was submerged by these emotions.

My head would ache as if splitting; I would feel mentally adrift.

Several times, I nearly collapsed.

Instructor Yan told me.

"Your ability is indiscriminate reception."

"You must learn to filter, to screen, to build a firewall."

"Otherwise, you aren't reading them, you are being devoured by them."

He taught me a method similar to meditation.

Making me imagine my own spirit as an absolutely secure fortress.

Opening only a tiny window to peek at the outside world.

Instead of throwing the entire city gate open to the enemy.

The process was painful and long.

Here, I also met other "people like me."

In our cohort, there were five people in total.

Besides me, "Antenna".

There was a man codenamed "Polygraph."

He could judge if someone was lying through subtle facial expressions and physiological reactions.

His accuracy rate was terrifyingly high.

A girl codenamed "Chessboard."

She had photographic memory and extraordinary logical deduction capabilities.

To her, any complex case was like a chess game that could be replayed.

A young man codenamed "Ghost."

He excelled at infiltration and disguise, appearing anywhere without a sound.

And an older uncle codenamed "Know-It-All."

He was like a living encyclopedia, knowing all sorts of obscure knowledge and strange tales.

The five of us came from all corners of the country and various backgrounds.

But now, we shared a common identity.

Probationary members of Bureau Nine.

We trained together, studied together, and ate together.

A special tacit understanding and comradeship formed between us.

We knew that one day in the future.

We would become each other's most trusted back-up.

Three months later.

Instructor Yan called the five of us to his office.

"Your training is over."

His face remained as expressionless as ever.

"Starting tomorrow, you will form Bureau Nine’s first 'Special Task Action Group'."

"Your first mission is coming up right away."

Chapter 15

The first mission.

These four words gave meaning to all the sweat and pain on the training ground.

The faces of the five of us were written with excitement and tension.

Director Chen personally gave us the mission briefing.

In the conference room, there were only the six of us.

The atmosphere was serious to the extreme.

"Target person, Philip Jones."

Director Chen turned on the projector.

On the screen appeared a photo of a blonde, blue-eyed white man.

He looked like an elegant scholar.

"British, publicly known as a reporter for The Times stationed in China."

"But he has a secret identity."

"MI6, the British Secret Intelligence Service, senior operative."

"Codename, 'Gardener'."

"According to the intelligence we have gathered, 'Gardener' has built a massive spy network within our country."

"This network, like an invisible spider web, has stolen a significant amount of our intelligence involving the economic, technological, and military sectors."

"We have tried various methods, but none could reach the core of this web."

"Because 'Gardener' is extremely cunning; he never uses any electronic devices to communicate."

"He uses the most ancient, yet most secure method to transmit intelligence."

Director Chen paused, his gaze sweeping over each of us.

"Antiques."

"He utilizes his identity as a reporter to frequently visit various auctions and antique markets."

"By buying and selling seemingly unremarkable antiques, he completes the hand-off and transmission of intelligence."

"The intelligence is hidden within those antiques."

"Using a micro-technology that we have yet to decipher."

The conference room was silent.

We all understood the difficulty of this mission.