Chapter 10 Hairpins

Lin Xiaosu did not rush into the room. Standing at the doorway, he first activated his Time Reversal ability.

Four whole days had already passed. It seemed his power was being pushed to its limits; just as he felt a faint sting in his eyes, the scene he’d been searching for finally appeared: an elderly man with white hair reclined on a grand armchair, gazing idly at the ceiling, his feet leisurely tapping the floor.

This scene hardly resembled that of someone about to die suddenly.

Yet, in the next instant, everything changed...

A jolt ran through Lin Xiaosu’s heart...

Three meters away, Changye and Zhou Mei were both watching him intently.

Zhou Mei whispered, “Sister Chang, even if he has some way of sniffing things out, it’s still impossible. Four days have passed, the mountain winds are strong, and the windows have been open for days. Any scent would’ve long since dispersed...”

But Changye’s eyes gleamed. She took a silent step forward.

Her movement was utterly noiseless.

Lin Xiaosu suddenly felt a chill run down his spine. He exited the Time Reversal state and turned around, only to find Changye standing soundlessly behind him. He was startled—was this woman part cat?

“Have you discovered anything?” she asked.

Lin Xiaosu replied, “Nothing’s apparent at first glance. I’ll look inside. Oh, by the way, do you have photos of the scene as it was found?”

“We were waiting for you to ask!” Changye raised her hand, a pair of glasses appearing on her face. “Display photo number 1352!”

As soon as she spoke, a layer of light shimmered from her glasses—a three-dimensional, holographic projection, crystal clear, every detail vivid. The elderly man Lin Xiaosu had seen through Time Reversal was there, sitting in the grand armchair, head thrown back, mouth slightly open...

Lin Xiaosu marveled, “Your police technology is impressive. This is incredibly clear.”

“Just say which part you need enlarged,” Changye offered.

“I’ll check inside first, no rush.”

He entered the meditation chamber and observed carefully. At least, in the eyes of the two female officers, he appeared to be meticulously examining the room.

Ten minutes passed. Then twenty...

Lin Xiaosu finally exited the room, shaking his head gently. “During the timeframe of his death, there was no one else present in the room!”

“Tch.”

Zhou Mei felt a pang of disdain. Twenty minutes of careful observation, yet such a useless conclusion?

Now a question arose—was this a scam? Earning ten thousand in twenty minutes seemed a little too easy.

“Are you certain it was a natural death?” Changye pressed.

Lin Xiaosu shook his head. “There’s one more thing to rule out.”

“What is it?”

He lifted his hand, pointing outside the window. Beyond it, about ten meters away, was a high embankment overgrown with vegetation.

Changye’s brows furrowed. “You suspect a remote attack?”

“Is there any method of attack that could produce symptoms similar to a cerebral hemorrhage?”

“No,” Zhou Mei interjected. “Any remote attack would leave an external wound, but a brain hemorrhage has nothing to do with trauma... right, Sister Chang?”

Changye didn’t answer immediately. Her gaze grew pensive. “Go and check over there.”

“All right.”

Lin Xiaosu proceeded to the base of the embankment, examining the area. He climbed up from the side, struggling for a while before finally reaching the top. Suddenly, he uttered a soft exclamation...

At some point, Changye had appeared behind him. “What did you find?”

“Look!” Lin Xiaosu pointed at his feet.

Changye stared at the tangled grass but saw nothing unusual. “What?”

“This blade of grass was crushed underfoot four days ago,” Lin Xiaosu explained.

Changye’s eyes lit up. Crushed grass from four days ago—an area where people rarely ventured. “Are you sure it was a person?”

“There’s no direct footprint, but with careful observation, you can tell by the way the grass is pressed down. You can also judge when it was stepped on by how dry it is.” Lin Xiaosu traced the shape of a footprint in the air.

The more Changye looked, the more it resembled a footprint.

“If you can’t see it here, look over there—there’s something even more interesting!” Lin Xiaosu lifted his hand, indicating a leaf.

In the center of the leaf was a tiny hole—a puncture mark.

Changye’s expression changed completely.

She wasn’t so confident in reading footprints, but when it came to needle marks, she was an expert—she used needles herself.

With her keen eyes, she could tell this was the trace of a needle piercing through.

A needle had passed through this leaf, aimed directly at the head of Qu Taiqing, who had been lying in the armchair!

“Crescent!” Changye called softly.

A delicate female voice sounded from her glasses, “Sister Changye, what do you need?”

“Check immediately—autopsy room 37, see if there’s a ‘hair needle’ beneath the scalp on the right side of the deceased’s head.”

“Understood!”

On the other end, a rapid examination began. Changye stood on the slope, her gaze fixed unwaveringly on the window. At that moment, her eyes seemed infinitely deep. Lin Xiaosu had never seen such a look before.

Time ticked by...

After five minutes, Changye’s glasses glowed faintly and a voice came through: “Sister Changye, you’re amazing! There is indeed a hair needle in the right hemisphere of his brain! It penetrated an inch and seven-tenths, leaving no trace outside—missed in the first inspection. The needle was coated with a neurotoxin, T30!”

“T30—the only effect is to instantly coagulate blood in the area, causing a blockage!” Changye said.

“Yes! That’s the real cause of death for case 2198!”

The light in Changye’s glasses faded.

She turned slowly, at that moment as poised as a night hawk in flight. It seemed as if the air around her dropped by a few degrees.

“There’s only one question left—can we trace the perpetrator from these clues?”

Lin Xiaosu turned, scanning the tangled undergrowth. Crossing the road, he smiled. “We’re in luck—he didn’t take the main road but used a forest path instead...”

Taking the path inevitably left traces of movement.

Though an ordinary person might see nothing, compared to finding a needle hole in a leaf, these clues were routine for Lin Xiaosu.

Rounding a hill, even Changye could now see a relatively clear footprint, its tread pattern sharply defined—thankfully, it hadn’t rained in the past four days.

Changye aimed her glasses at the print and took a photo.

They continued tracking.

Through woods and over hills, they finally reached the main road leading into the county. Lin Xiaosu stopped, his brow furrowed. “Now it’s down to luck. Are there any surveillance cameras nearby?”

His challenge was never in finding the culprit.

The murderer, wearing a plaid windbreaker, his build and features were etched clearly in Lin Xiaosu’s mind.

But knowing wasn’t enough—he needed to present this image in a reasonable way.

That called for surveillance footage.

And in his supernatural vision, he could see them clearly—a hundred meters away, hidden under an eave, was a camera. From this angle, it should have caught the man in the plaid jacket getting into a car...

He didn’t want anyone to know just how sharp his eyesight was.

So he asked for help.

Changye’s glasses lit up again. Countless grids appeared in the air, with three light dots—three cameras. Besides the one Lin Xiaosu had already spotted, there were two others entirely hidden from view, yet she had uncovered them with her remarkable technology.

“Retrieve the footage. The time is...” Changye gave a command.

Instantly, the projection shifted to the night four days prior.

Lin Xiaosu’s eyes widened in shock. Unbelievable!

Police retrieving surveillance footage didn’t even contact the camera owners?

She just pulled it up directly?

Wasn’t this hacking?

Even Zhou Mei, though a police officer herself and well-versed in evidence collection, was astonished. She’d reviewed surveillance footage countless times, but never with such silent, undisturbed ease.

Still, despite this miraculous retrieval, one last step was missing.

Surveillance cameras only cover so much. The plaid-jacketed man emerged from a blind spot. Even if the footage showed him getting into a car by the road, so what? Plenty of people did the same. There was no way to link him directly from the mountain to the car—without that, all their efforts would be in vain.

Just as the video caught the man in the plaid jacket getting into the car, Lin Xiaosu called out, “Stop!”

The footage paused.

“Look at his shoes,” Lin Xiaosu said.

“Shoes? The sole pattern isn’t clear enough...” Changye replied.

That was the flaw with civilian cameras—they could capture faces, but the details of shoe soles were beyond them.

“No need to see the sole pattern. Just look at the brand logo on these Warrior sneakers. From there, you can find the product’s detailed features.”

Changye’s eyes lit up.

“Search!”

At her command, a flurry of shoes appeared in the virtual space above her glasses. In moments, a matching pair was found: brand—Duli, production date, manufacturer, product details...

The sole flipped, matching exactly the clear print they’d seen on the mountain trail.

Zhou Mei cheered, “We’ve got him!”

Changye’s glasses shimmered. “Search for this individual!”

In an instant, it was as if the whole world unfolded before her; countless images flashed by, similarity percentages climbing—80%, 85.2%, 96%, 100%!

As the green 100% appeared, a profile surfaced.

“Ding Haichun, male, 48, native of Fengcheng County, Dongchu Province. Founder and legal representative of Huanggang Science & Trade Company...”

Lin Xiaosu stared, dumbfounded. “This system of yours is incredible—can you find anyone with just a photo?”

“Not quite,” Changye explained. “The system’s effectiveness depends on the completeness of the database. It’s been upgraded eight times and now covers all levels of public servants, business registrants, and anyone with a criminal record. Ordinary people aren’t fully covered. But if you’ve ever been to a train station or airport, your information gets included—though all it shows is when you were there, not your name or family details...”

As she explained, the system kept working.

Finally, it stopped, a red dot pinpointing the target’s current location—no more than ten miles from where they stood.