Chapter Forty-Three: Transformation into a Dragon

“This is the case file. Take it.” Han Juan slapped the file into Lei Zhen’s hands, her face dark and sullen. Lei Zhen just chuckled, unfazed by her hostility. “We’ll be working together more in the future. Thank you for your cooperation this time, Inspector Han.”

Lei Zhen absentmindedly rubbed his shiny bald head and added, “Gao Wu as well—I’ll be taking him with me.”

“He’s all yours.” Han Juan gestured to her colleagues. “Go bring him out. And don’t forget a single transfer procedure. If anything goes wrong, we’re not taking the blame.”

Several inspectors hurried off to fetch Gao Wu, while a few supervisors from the Oversight Bureau followed closely behind. The transfer of personnel was no small matter, especially with Han Juan’s foul mood—no one wanted any tricks played at this stage.

After considerable back and forth, and a brief medical check to confirm Gao Wu’s physical health and mental clarity—no injuries, no issues—the Oversight Bureau signed off on the transfer.

Stepping out of the Public Security Bureau with the Oversight team, Gao Wu found the sunlight dazzling and his legs weak, as if he were walking on clouds.

He hadn’t eaten all morning, just downed a bottle of water. His robust metabolism was working overtime, and he was faint with hunger.

Once inside the black mid-sized SUV, Gao Wu spotted the old gentleman in the backseat.

Shang Hongyi smiled kindly at him. “Hungry, aren’t you?”

He handed over several Taiji energy bars. Gao Wu was nearly moved to tears as he accepted them—no one cared for him like his grandfather.

After wolfing down five energy bars, Gao Wu finally felt alive again.

“Slow down, don’t rush…” Lei Zhen, seated in the front passenger seat, turned around and laughed at Gao Wu’s ravenous state. “Once we finish your statement at the bureau, you can go home.”

Gao Wu was a little surprised. He looked to his grandfather, who nodded. “Director Lei and I go way back. If he says it’s fine, it’s fine.”

“Thank you, Uncle Lei.” Gao Wu quickly expressed his gratitude.

“Life and death are no small matter. By procedure, you should be held for at least forty-eight hours. But the video is proof enough of your innocence. No need for more red tape.” Lei Zhen’s tone grew serious. “You took down a cultist—quite the young hero. You deserve recognition.”

“I don’t dare claim such credit. I was just defending myself.” Gao Wu was content enough to be free and dared not expect any reward.

Lei Zhen understood his caution and smiled. “Relax. You have the video as evidence. The facts are crystal clear. I’m handling this case—there won’t be any reversals.”

He paused, then added, “I’ll help you apply for a commendation. Earning a medal for bravery is no problem. It’ll even boost your college entrance scores. And there’s a cash reward. You’ve earned all of this—no need to be modest.”

Gao Wu glanced at his grandfather, who said, “The video has spread far and wide—it’s impossible to keep this low-key. Receiving recognition is a good thing.”

He looked at Lei Zhen. “This won’t cause trouble for you?”

“So many people are watching online. Only by commending Gao Wu will the public be satisfied. It also sets a good example.” Lei Zhen waved it off, signaling it was a trivial matter.

“Thank you, Uncle Lei.” Gao Wu was genuinely touched—his grandfather’s friend was truly thoughtful!

Lei Zhen smiled. “No need to worry. The Public Security Bureau botched things this time—someone will have to take the blame. They won’t dare interfere again.”

Gao Wu felt a surge of satisfaction, though outwardly he remained composed. “It’s all official business. I understand.”

No need to act like a petty victor in front of Lei Zhen—he had some sense of restraint. Besides, Lei Zhen was a public official, too.

Lei Zhen was a bit surprised. Gao Wu seemed so sunny and open, yet he could hide his true emotions so well. Shang’s grandson was no ordinary youth… No wonder Han Juan was suspicious.

“So young, yet so dignified and magnanimous, decisive and courageous—truly a rare talent…” Having already shown his favor, Lei Zhen went all in, lavishing praise on Gao Wu for Shang Hongyi’s benefit.

Gao Wu deflected the compliments with humble denials, but inwardly he was delighted. Looking at the balding Lei Zhen, he couldn’t help but think the man looked more and more agreeable—a vice director indeed.

Even his grandfather was flushed with pleasure at the praise, visibly cheered.

Lei Zhen proved himself not just a smooth talker but efficient in action, too. After Gao Wu gave his statement at the Oversight Bureau, Lei Zhen personally returned all his belongings and escorted both Gao Wu and his grandfather out the door with full honors.

Back at the old house, Gao Wu gazed at the peaceful courtyard and felt as if he’d lived through another lifetime.

“For the next couple of days, don’t go to school—lie low for a while,” his grandfather advised. “I’ll go buy some groceries. Let’s have a good meal tonight to wash away the bad luck.”

Once his grandfather was out, Gao Wu pulled out his phone and sent a message to Song Mingyue: “I’m out. All’s well now. Thank you.”

“Okay.”

“I won’t come over tonight—want to spend time with Grandpa. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“All right.”

Song Mingyue’s replies were as concise as ever. Gao Wu was at a loss for words, but he knew full well that he owed his release to her efforts behind the scenes. He also knew how difficult it had been—just getting the video out under pressure from the Public Security Bureau must have taken immense resources.

He truly didn’t know how he could ever repay such a debt.

After ending the conversation, Gao Wu contacted Shang Qingjun. She must have been waiting for his news, because she replied the moment he messaged her.

She sent a huge surprised emoji, followed by a big hugging sticker. “So glad you’re back safe!”

Ever since she’d gotten the call from Grandpa that morning, Shang Qingjun had been waiting for news. Now, at last, she could breathe easy.

Even separated by thousands of miles, Gao Wu could feel her happiness. A smile crept onto his face—his grandfather cared for him, Song Mingyue cared for him, but Shang Qingjun’s concern was different from theirs…

The two chatted for a long time, only stopping when Shang Qingjun had to go to class.

That evening, he shared a sumptuous dinner with his grandfather, and they talked for a long while.

Most of their conversation revolved around the cult and its demon gods. His grandfather, a military man, had often taken part in operations to wipe out cultists and knew much about their organization and the demon gods they worshipped.

He had seldom spoken about these things before, because in the past twenty years, times had been good and traces of the cult were rare. But in recent years, things had begun to change—the cult seemed to be reviving.

“It’s said the Pantheon Cult has twelve demon gods, each with their own strange powers. The demon gods are not subordinate to one another and even fight among themselves. So the Pantheon Cult isn’t a single entity but rather a collective term for many cults,” his grandfather explained, his face grave. In the past, when the cult ran rampant, the casualties were enormous. Those who embraced the cult became like madmen—fearless and completely unreasonable.

He went on, “According to the records, cult followers are divided into nine ranks, the lowest being adherents, attendants, and acolytes. By the acolyte level, you’re already a high-level martial artist.

“At higher ranks—deacons, priests, and high priests—even the weakest are warriors. These people are empowered by the demon gods and possess all sorts of supernatural abilities. Very dangerous.

“As for the highest-ranking demon god followers—I have no idea…”

In the end, his grandfather cautioned, “There’s no loyalty among cultists. But you’re too much in the spotlight now, so be careful in case they seek revenge. Don’t go to White Dragon Mountain in the morning, and don’t go out at night.”

“Mm, I know…”

After dinner, Gao Wu practiced his boxing and sword forms in the courtyard, working up such a sweat that steam rose from his body before he showered and went to his room.

There, he practiced the Nine Forms of the Azure Dragon several more times before finally lying down to rest.

Downstairs was quiet—his grandfather must have gone to bed. Gao Wu reached for his sword beside the bed; its solid weight filled him with a sense of security.

With everything ready, Gao Wu opened the Infinite Merit Book. His merit had already reached 250,000.

In a single day, he’d gained over 70,000 more merit—a pace that delighted him. If only it could continue for ten days or half a month, he’d have a million.

But he knew that was impossible. There was only so much merit a single video could generate, and he couldn’t sustain such massive traffic.

The news of his release had already spread; by tomorrow, public interest would dwindle rapidly. In two or three days, this wave of attention would be gone.

Gao Wu couldn’t help but laugh at himself. The fact that things had ended so well was already a blessing. The extra windfall of merit was a delightful surprise—he couldn’t afford to be too greedy!

He invested 100,000 merit into the Azure Dragon Divine Energy Incantation. Instantly, in the depths of his mind, countless blue-green divine lights converged and transformed into a skyward-roaring azure dragon!

In that trance, Gao Wu felt himself become one with the dragon, soaring and whirling through boundless heavens…