Empire of Shadows No Chapter 512

Ponda staggered to his feet, falling several tis. He felt that there was sothing wrong with his equilibrium.

He was clearly standing, but his senses were telling him that the world was spinning.

He instinctively tried to adjust his balance, only to end up falling to the ground.

He looked back at the house, now a ruin, and at his colleagues trapped under the debris, their mouths opening and closing in agony, yet he couldn’t hear a single sound.

What the fuck, what happened?

His mind was a blank. The massive explosion had left him in a daze.

Even his vision was blurry with afterimages.

He suddenly felt a force from behind push him forward, nearly knocking him to the ground. When he turned back, he saw many of his fellow agents rushing from other areas towards the ruins, using their hands to move things out, to throw them away.

He stood in the crowd, his eyes sotis dazed, sotis clear.

After a while, perhaps a few minutes, he gradually ca to his senses, and the sounds he had lost returned to his ears.

“Quick, save them…”

“Help…”

“Soone help !”

“Does anyone have a tourniquet?”

Four n simultaneously dug a mangled body out of the ruins, laid it to one side, and then continued digging.

No one knew how many people were in the house at the ti, nor did they know how many had survived. All they knew was that they had to get these people out from under the rubble as quickly as possible.

Ponda also joined the rescue team. He now understood what Lance ant by “don’t get too close to the front.”

At the sa ti, a shudder of fear, coming from the depths of his soul, ran through him.

If he… had been a little closer, did that an he would also be buried under the rubble?

“I’ve found Webber!”

Ponda straightened up, imdiately dropped what he was doing, and walked towards the voice. A large crowd had already gathered there. He pushed his way to the center of the crowd, and he did indeed see Webber.

But not a complete Webber. Only his upper body, and a mangled upper body at that.

Ponda’s head was buzzing. Although he had known the answer before he ca, he was still startled.

He turned to look at the dark wilderness around him, and a disquieting chill rose from the soles of his feet.

In the city, Dale was on the phone with a friend, a capable friend.

“…It’s not that I don’t want to help you, Dale. We’ve known each other for many years. You know what kind of person I am.”

“If there was anything I could do to help you, I definitely would.”

“Your repeated poor performance has made everyone very disappointed in you. The fact that you haven’t been transferred to another place is already the best we could do.”

Dale’s head throbbed as he listened to these words. “I know, so I’m not asking you to do anything for

now. As long as I can be safe, that’s enough.”

“I’m no longer planning to return to Golden State. I’m going to buy a house here and bring my family over…”

As he said these words, Director Dale’s mood clearly dropped. If he could, he didn’t want to resign himself to his fate.

But he had indeed not done a good job.

He had been considering so things lately. When he decided not to return to Golden State, it ant that his bottom line was in jeopardy.

Make a fortune, then retire, had beco his subconscious thought. He knew he had this thought, but he was trying his best to deny it, or to ignore it as much as possible.

At the sa ti, he also knew very well that one day he would have to face this problem clearly and take that step.

Cris of office—many people had done it. It was actually no big deal.

His friend on the other end of the line coughed. Director Dale sensed that sothing was wrong. “You’re calling , it can’t be just to say a few irrelevant words. Is there sothing you want to say?”

“Tell !”

He added so force to his tone. His friend was silent for a few seconds before saying, “Golden Port is a rapidly developing and important city, both in terms of its international role and its geographical location in the Federation. So, so people are very interested in your position.”

The first half of the sentence didn’t seem to be a problem to Director Dale, which was why the final twist almost caught him off guard.

“You’re saying, soone is interested in my position? Who?”

“We are good friends, so I’m willing to tell you the truth… several people.”

“Damn it!”

“You fucking called

in the middle of the night just to tell

that soone is trying to kick

out of this position?”

“Fuck, fuck you, brother!”

Director Dale’s sharp shouts echoed in his office.

His friend on the other end of the line waited for a while. After his emotions had stabilized a bit, he continued, “The Prohibition Committee recently received a report that ntioned the problem of smuggled liquor in Likalai State.”

“23% of the Federation’s smuggled liquor enters the Federation through Likalai State. Its long coastline has beco a favorite spot for smugglers.”

“And it’s too close to Yalan.”

“You know what I an.”

Director Dale had spent a considerable amount of ti in Golden State. He certainly understood the aning behind these words.

It wasn’t that a large amount of smuggled liquor was coming in through this channel, making Prohibition a joke.

It ant that there were huge interests at stake.

Interest is the true driving force of the world. With interest, there is desire, there is demand.

Soone had set their sights on the interests here, and he didn’t have the ability to hold on to his power, so soone wanted to move him aside.

Like moving a piece on a chessboard, they would pinch his head and then toss him aside.

If he could cooperate, there was a high probability that he could still remain on the board. But if he didn’t cooperate, then he would be thrown into the chess box.

“One of them is even a local of yours, from the State Prohibition Committee. Don’t tell anyone I said this.”

“That… Webber, his uncle is lobbying.”

Director Dale cursed again. After cursing a few tis, he beca very dejected, because he had no ability to resist this matter.

The Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Hazardous Materials, from its inception, was a vertical departnt, directly responsible to the mbers of the Congressional Prohibition Committee.

The purpose of this was to prevent the Bureau of Hazardous Materials from being suppressed by local governnts, as local economic policies and protection strategies could conflict with so law enforcent content.

This also ant that the upper echelons of the Bureau of Hazardous Materials had absolute control over them. Webber’s uncle didn’t even need to win over the big shots in Congress. He just needed to propose that “the director of the Golden Port Bureau of Hazardous Materials needs to be changed,” and if no one objected, then he could start operating.

Director Dale tugged at his collar, feeling an invisible noose around his neck, gradually tightening.

“Is there any way to make this not happen?”

There was no sound from the receiver. It was clear that his departure was a foregone conclusion.

He cursed a few more tis. Suddenly, he heard footsteps outside, and then the office door was burst open.

His face was filled with anger, not because soone had burst open his office door, but because soone was coveting his position and power.

Now he needed an outlet for his frustration.

He glared at the person and then said into the phone, “I’ll call you back later.”

Then he hung up and looked fiercely at the agent who had burst in. “You’re this old, and your mother still hasn’t taught you how to knock?”

This was actually a very nasty way of putting it, equivalent to insulting soone’s mother.

But fortunately, this person was in no state to care about such things. He was panting heavily, his face filled with terror. “Sothing terrible has happened, Director Dale!”

Director Dale looked at his face for two or three seconds, and his expression gradually beca serious. “You’d better tell

sothing that I would consider terrible!”

“Senior Agent Webber is dead…”

“A total of eleven people are dead, and more than a dozen are seriously injured. Many are lightly injured. I don’t know…”

Director Dale’s head now felt as if it had also been blown up by a bomb. In that instant, there was only one sound left in the world.

A high-frequency, constant “eeee” sound. The whole world began to spin. He gripped the edge of the desk tightly, forcing himself not to fall.

After about ten seconds, he ca back to his senses. His stiff eyeballs moved, and his gaze beca a little more agile.

“What happened?”

The subordinate recounted the entire incident, including how they arrived at the farm and found no one, but discovered whiskey worth four to five hundred thousand.

Then they searched the entire farm and found so account books and a locked iron box in a room.

Senior Agent Webber opened the iron box in front of everyone. Who would have thought there was a bundle of explosives inside?

And the pull cord for the explosives was attached to the top of the iron box.

He was killed instantly on the spot.

Several pieces of him are still missing.

The people around him and near the iron box were all killed. Besides the explosives, the iron box also contained a kind of triangular iron shrapnel. Any bone in its path would be pierced and shattered.

Director Dale leaned back heavily in his chair, his face filled with exhaustion. “Call back all the off-duty agents. Have them participate in the rescue work. And then…”

He hesitated for a mont, about a few seconds. “Call the police.”

What he was thinking now was how to extricate himself from this matter. Calling the police was a very appropriate move. And from this, it could be seen that Director Dale was indeed not a diocre talent in politics.

Using a third-party law enforcent agency to collect evidence and investigate could minimize his potential suspicion and responsibility in this matter. But at the sa ti, this would also make the Bureau of Hazardous Materials the focus of public opinion again, and a negative focus at that.

He could already imagine the strange expressions on the faces of those gentlen in Congress when they saw this news—

That Dale they had given up on had fucking made big news again?

He was a little desperate now, even feeling that he couldn’t even retire safely.

The news spread quickly in Golden Port. After all, it was rare to see a large number of police cars and ambulances rushing out of the city with their sirens blaring.

Both the hospital and the police station were as leaky as sieves. Soon, a series of phone calls brought the news to the ears of the upper-class society.

The Bureau of Hazardous Materials encountered a trap/ambush while investigating a case, and dozens of people died.

Charlie also confird this situation from the side. Hunter also went to the scene to personally handle the case, as requested by Charlie.

Although he was just a low-level tool, a politician, his years of contact with the Bay Area had made him vaguely understand Director Dale’s aning. If he wanted to be independent, then this was an opportunity to bring both sides together.

Regardless of whether Director Dale could hold on to his position at the Bureau of Hazardous Materials after this incident, even if he couldn’t, he was not completely worthless.

His network of connections, the phone numbers he knew, might co in handy soday.

The scene at the farm was very lively now. Large searchlights were set up everywhere, illuminating the farm’s building complex as if it were dayti.

The police had also ford “search teams,” searching for anyone hiding in the tall grass. From ti to ti, a flare shot into the sky would briefly illuminate the wilderness like daylight.

Hunter used a screwdriver to pry a triangular fragnt from the wall. Just holding it lightly in his hand, he could feel a slight sting when its sharp point touched his skin. It was very sharp.

There were many such fragnts on the walls. Whether it was wood, cent, or any other structure, it would be pierced and embedded.

“The design of this bomb is very professional,” Hunter put the fragnt in a matchbox and then into his pocket.

Such professional shrapnel was definitely not just casually made. He needed to investigate and see who made it, or if anyone knew any information about it.

The tragic scene made him break out in a cold sweat, especially when he heard that this abandoned farm might be connected to the Lance Family. He felt a strong sense of unease.

There were many traces and indirect evidence at the scene, but not a single piece of direct evidence.

To deal with Lance, indirect evidence was definitely not enough. There had to be heavy, strong evidence to send him to prison.

As for killing him?

Hunter had considered it, but gave up, because it was unrealistic.

If he couldn’t mobilize a large number of law enforcent officers or gunn, he couldn’t do it. If he were to solve the problem of Lance, he could only go through legal channels.

At the sa ti, he, including Director Dale and Charlie, realized one thing: there was a mole for Lance in the Bureau of Hazardous Materials.

And this mole was high-ranking enough to know about this matter. It was even possible that this was a trap, a setup, arranged around Webber.

That night, all the agents from the Bureau of Hazardous Materials who had participated in the operation did not go ho. They all went to the police station, including Ponda.

He was still in a state of shock, constantly smoking. But this also fit the psychological state he should be in.

“…Anything else to add?” an officer paused his pen. He looked at Ponda. There were more than ten cigarette butts at Ponda’s feet.

He didn’t necessarily smoke every puff of every cigarette. Sotis he only took the first and last puff, sotis a few more.

The presence of cigarettes had beco a psychological dependence for him. People who have suffered severe trauma do have such a need.

Ponda shook his head. “No more.”

He had just recounted what happened that night in great detail. He didn’t hide any content, because he believed that others would also be very detailed.

The officer nodded, turned the page, and then prepared to write. “Can we talk about Webber?”

Ponda looked up at him. “About what?”

“Did he have anyone in the Bureau of Hazardous Materials with whom he had a particularly bad relationship?”

Ponda’s pupils contracted slightly. He lowered his head, using the act of smoking to avoid the other’s gaze. “I don’t quite understand what you an.”

The officer didn’t mind being more explicit. This was also a thod of observation and interrogation. “We suspect that soone set this trap specifically for Webber.”

“So we want to ask, was there anyone who had a bad relationship with him?”

Ponda could already feel his scalp and the skin on his body begin to itch, followed by a feeling of sweating.

He could clearly feel the sweat seeping out of his pores. His mind was racing. He needed to protect himself.

He had never been so focused before. His thoughts were like lightning, crazily circling in his head, making his brain spin at supersonic speed.

If it weren’t for the mbrane outside his brain, his brain matter might have already been flung out.

He licked his lips. “I don’t know… maybe I’d count as one?”

“You?” The officer’s expression changed slightly. He stared at Ponda.

Ponda did not avoid it and t his gaze.

He had also interrogated others. He knew very well that during an interrogation, so subtle changes in expression could lead to suspicion and questioning.

Just now he had spoken so frankly about the problem. If he were to be evasive now, and not even dare to look at this officer, his suspicion would be infinitely magnified.

At the sa ti, he did not avoid the fact that he and Webber did not get along, because everyone knew. Avoiding this issue would only show that he had a guilty conscience.

So he was very frank.

He nodded and said, “Yes. Originally… the Bureau of Hazardous Materials was planning to promote , but Webber was parachuted in from the State Prohibition Committee and took my promotion spot.”

The officer showed a “so that’s how it is” expression, and at the sa ti, there was so sympathy in his eyes. A guy who got in through the back door, of course, not in the physical sense.

“So you didn’t like him?” the officer asked.

Ponda shook his head and said, “It should be that he didn’t like . He always gave

a hard ti. I was considering a work transfer.”

“After all, he’s my direct superior, and he has connections in the State Prohibition Committee. I’m no match for him.”

“But this afternoon, he suddenly called

to his office, wanting to reconcile with . He even said he would promote

to senior agent.”

“He hoped that I could better support his work, and then these things happened tonight.”

The officer recorded this truthfully. He drew a few circles around Ponda’s na. “So you’re saying, he hinted to you in a subtle way that he might be promoted to Director?”

(End of Chapter)

The novel has already been fully translated up to the last updated chapter. You can access it on my Patreon at /caleredhair