VESSEL - Extinction Countdown 987: Fireseed of the Heart

When you have eliminated the impossibles , whatever remains , however improbable , must be the truth.—Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (1859–1930)

Yingtian City, 067 Precinct.

“What? Ye Shisan and Lin Changrong boarded You Dragon King’s private jet? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

The shout came from Detective Captain Yi Qing, nicknamed “One-Eye” by colleagues.

She hung up the phone down, fuming. An informant tracking Lin Changrong had called, saying he’d seen Lin with Ye Shisan. When pressed, Yi Qing learned the tip was a day old—she chewed the informant out.

Anger aside, this was a key lead. Ye Shisan, a bakery owner, and Lin Changrong, a prominent figure, were worlds apart. Their private meeting was suspicious.

Even if Ye Shisan had saved Lin’s life, connecting with You Dragon King, Dragon Gate’s leader, wasn’t easy. Lin Changrong must have bridged them.

But how did a baker like Ye Shisan link to Dragon Gate’s kingpin?

And there was more. Tips suggested Hong Gang, Dragon Gate’s rival, had been currying favor with You Dragon King. They’d funneled business from their turf to his second son, You Lulong, and planned a joint company.

Dragon Gate ruled the global underworld; Hong Gang was the nation’s top local syndicate. A mighty dragon can’t crush a local snake, yet now they were allied.

Yi Qing couldn’t make sense of it. In her hometown, Yongzhou City, one call would’ve cleared this up. But parachuted into 067 Precinct, she was shunned, her resources thin. This strange case felt like scaling a mountain.

She sighed and dialed. “Dulao, it’s me…”

Zhang Dulao, born Zhang Zhuxian, was nearing ninety. Of Miao descent, his family was revered for fairness across villages and practiced a mysterious art called mystic arts. Yi Qing called him “Dulao,” a southern minority term for a respected elder.

As her former superior, Zhang Dulao had pulled strings years ago to transfer Yi Qing to Yingtian after she lost an eye and retired.

She hadn’t contacted him since. Discipline demanded it.

Zhang Dulao belonged to a covert unit called Fireseed. Its members vanished from society. Leaving meant death or absolute secrecy as a “cripple.” Yi Qing, blind in one eye, was such a cripple, discharged with Zhang’s help.

His effort to secure her exit was a debt she owed.

When Yi Qing joined 067 Precinct, rumors of a “big shot” backing her pointed to Zhang Dulao.

His voice showed surprise. “Yi Qing? Is this line secure?”

“It’s the precinct’s encrypted line, patched with Fireseed’s second-gen hardware algorithm. Safe enough.”

“Look, you fought to retire, turned down a desk job at headquarters. What, you’ve come around?”

Yi Qing bit her lip. “No, I need your help with something else.”

“You know Fireseed doesn’t handle civilian affairs.”

“I know, but this case is too strange. Sometimes I feel an invisible enemy lurking, and I’m certain it’s not human.”

“You’re calling on a hunch?”

She gritted her teeth. “Yes, a hunch!”

Silence lingered. “…Only an old fool like me would buy your nonsense.”

Zhang hung up. Yi Qing exhaled.

She’d been honest, with no hard proof to sway him.

Since taking the crash case, she’d hounded everyone involved, torn through files, and scoured the scene for days. Ye Shisan was the one she’d overlooked.

His file was too simple: a thirty-four-year-old man, twenty years in a mental hospital, a few lines of history. Nothing suspicious.

But that simplicity was the issue. After visiting Shisan Bakery, Ye Shisan became her focus.

A “recovered” schizophrenic running a bakery, surviving a strange crash, then dining with Dragon Gate’s kingpin? How did he earn You Dragon King’s favor?

Reviewing the forensic report, Yi Qing spotted a clue.

The crash’s first impact was the taxi’s rear door, sliced clean. Ye Shisan was closest to it.

Two possibilities: First, Ye Shisan was innocent, and the door was pre-cut. But how did it stay intact? He’d entered the backseat—opening a tampered door would’ve broken it. Even if glued with special tech or rigged with a remote bomb, there’d be explosive residue or fragments. The entire door’s edges were flawless.

Second, if not pre-cut, the mystery deepened. Slicing a car door so cleanly required heavy machinery. Who could do that mid-drive?

It seemed unsolvable, but Yi Qing trusted Doyle: eliminate the impossible, and the improbable truth remains.

Ye Shisan was the last suspect. She didn’t know how he cut the door, but he was involved.

As she pondered, her phone buzzed—an unknown caller.

Zhang Dulao worked fast. Help had arrived.

A gentle, leisurely female voice spoke. “Officer Yi Qing?”

“That’s me.”

“Heh, you’ve got pull. Old Zhang dug up old favors for you. We should meet.”

“Who are you?”

“Call me YiQueen. Publicly, I’m the general manager of Hanfeng Design under Hantang Group in Xiedi City. I’ll be in Yingtian in two days. Got time?”

Yi Qing’s mind raced. Hantang Group! She’d heard Fireseed’s new Yingtian branch used it as a front.

This YiQueen was an active Fireseed operative.