Chapter 114: Clues

Afterward, I continued on to Wang Wenshan’s old house. It remained a vacant, silent building. I asked a passerby about it and learned that all the residents had agreed to the demolition, which was scheduled to take place soon. Under normal circumstances, this would be fine, but my mind suddenly went blank: every single resident had agreed?

In my recollection, Wang Wenshan still had many belongings in that old house. This meant that if it were to be demolished, his consent would be mandatory. As long as one person refused, the building could not be torn down. This was the capital, after all, where no one would dare to carry out an illegal forced demolition.

With this thought in mind, I hurried into the building. Stepping into the unit entrance, I headed toward Wang Wenshan’s home. After climbing a few flights of stairs, I saw that the security door was covered in a thick layer of dust, suggesting no one had returned in a long time. I gave the handle a firm tug, and to my surprise, the door opened. A sudden sense of tension washed over me. My right hand instinctively reached for my waist, but I was unarmed. I had discarded my gun back at the Ancient Loufan Tomb—it was illegal, and I didn't want the trouble—and my black gold ancient saber was currently stored at Zhang Cheng's place. I was completely defenseless.

With a heart full of trepidation, I slowly stepped inside. The room was incredibly dim; tall buildings had been erected on both sides, blocking out the sun. Combined with the autumn chill, the air inside was biting.

A quick glance was enough to tell me that someone had been here. My eyes swept across the room, noting that many items had been moved. For safety, I checked every room to ensure no one was hiding, and once confirmed, my racing heart slowed.

I looked at the study; it seemed much as it had when I was last there, though many books had fallen to the floor, clearly disturbed by human hands. It had been ransacked. I instinctively suspected the "Old Ghost" and his associates, but then I remembered being attacked here before. Was that assailant one of the Old Ghost’s men? Honestly, I couldn't say for sure.

However, as my gaze drifted, I noticed something odd. The window was closed. I remembered clearly that the person had jumped out through that window, shattering it in the process. Yet now, the window was closed and repaired. I touched it; sure enough, it was new glass. Who would be so bored as to come to this old, abandoned house just to fix a broken window?

I was puzzled, but it was clear there were no more clues to be found here; the place had been thoroughly picked over.

My thoughts returned to what the passerby had said: the entire building was slated for demolition because every resident had signed off. When I had inquired previously, the demolition plan had been stalled precisely because everyone had refused. Now that everyone had supposedly agreed, that included Wang Wenshan.

But had Wang Wenshan not been missing all this time?

Could someone be impersonating him to authorize the demolition, perhaps to destroy the site and cover up some secret? I began to let my imagination run wild, though these were merely guesses and deductions.

The more I thought, the more tangled my logic became. I couldn't make sense of it. I found myself wishing for Black Glasses; his analytical mind would surely have unraveled this. But I was alone, and I had never been good at deep thinking. The complexity of the situation forced me to delve deeper, and I felt, as Black Glasses had warned, that I had truly fallen into a massive whirlpool.

I opened my palm and looked at the red moles on my skin, offering a bitter smile. Time was truly running out. I stood up and walked out of the old building. A thought occurred to me: since the entire building was being demolished, the agency in charge must have collected the signatures. I would go to them and ask. Perhaps I could find a lead on Wang Wenshan. As for Li Ling’s message about the "Dragon Head," it left me feeling lost, but I had to pursue every possible shred of hope.

The demolition office was easy to locate. This wasn't a private enterprise, but a government-led project. After catching a taxi, I arrived in no time. When I asked about the case, the official in charge hesitated, asking what my relationship was to Wang Wenshan. When I said I was a relative, his suspicious look caught me off guard.

"Sir, is there a problem?" I asked.

The official explained that until half a month ago, Wang Wenshan was the only one who hadn't signed. The community workers had been searching for him. Then, a man claiming to be Wang Wenshan’s son appeared with identification and documentation, signing the agreement on his father's behalf. Given the complexity of the project, and the fact that it was an immediate family member providing valid proof and a signature that matched, the staff hadn't questioned it. After all, who would bother impersonating a family member just to sign away a property?

The official pulled out a file to show me, as he was now beginning to doubt the validity of the signature himself, worried about his own liability.

I examined the agreement. It did indeed bear Wang Wenshan’s name. I couldn't tell if it was authentic—I hadn't paid much attention to his handwriting—but I knew it couldn't be real. Not necessarily because the signature was a forgery, but because if Wang Wenshan had resurfaced, he would have contacted me. Furthermore, he was officially listed as a missing person, and the Archaeological Institute was still searching for him. How could he have reappeared so silently?