Munitions Empire Chapter 2026 - 1888

"The efficiency of this operation is truly unprecedented! Are we setting a new record here?" An agent in the office burst out excitedly, his tone carrying a trace of disbelief. Backed by computer data, their case-handling speed had skyrocketed, particularly in scenarios pooling national resources. It was an utterly thrilling ride.

"Isn’t it?" The other agent shot back, a smug grin lighting up his face: "We checked all her entry details in only one hour—something that was once unthinkable."

He stopped briefly before adding, "Computers have boosted our direct investigation work by leaps and bounds. When she came in, her hair was dyed, and she handed over a full pack of fake ID papers."

"Have they pinned down the info provider?" the first agent urged, his voice turning grave.

"It’s all cleared up!" the second agent fired back with thrill: "We alerted the Eastern Continent team 30 minutes back. Sofia went via Dorne—you know how messy it is there. The strike team’s already moving in to grab not only the info giver but also the forgers and ID suppliers. No one’s slipping away." His words rang with unyielding resolve, highlighting the Imperial Security Bureau’s iron grip.

"Have they located her Chang’an hideout?" the first agent kept probing, eyes locked on the case updates.

"Confirmed as well." The second agent responded: "It belongs to a merchant’s private home. He showed up in Chang’an four years ago, matching our ’Nails’ profile. Most are recent settlers within five years, with shaky backgrounds that tie back to the Eastern Continent under scrutiny."

"I see." The first agent nodded pensively, sorting the files in front of him, then asked on, "So, have they nabbed that guy?"

He needed every bit of info on this bust to brief Director Li’ao properly.

"The strike team reports success—the target’s in custody." The second agent answered, his excitement barely contained: "Here’s the kicker: he tried sneaking near the Forbidden City just two days ago."

"Heavens!" the first agent gasped, "He’s neck-deep in it, then."

"No doubt," the second agent affirmed: "With the strike team’s gear on display, he’ll spill every secret soon enough."

...

Shadows loomed heavy in the interrogation room under faint lighting, the air thick with suffocating tension that felt almost tangible. Sofia’s subordinate, posing as a merchant, was hauled in, wrists chained to the icy metal seat, his frame quivering, gaze brimming with terror and worry. He fidgeted restlessly, sweat dripping from his brow, shining faintly in the low light.

Truth be told, regular folks never witness such dread; even those with a speck of guilt would soil themselves upon entry.

"I’ll confess everything! I’ll tell you all I know!" The merchant yelled out raggedly all of a sudden, his shaky voice barely audible, teetering on breakdown. Words tumbled from him fast, desperate to unload it all and ease his gut-wrenching dread.

Across the table, the interrogator sat stone-faced, gaze piercing like daggers, staying silent. He casually lifted a pen from the desk, twirling it slowly, the faint "click" echoing sharply in the hushed room, pounding at the merchant’s nerves.

Nearby, two hefty guards arranged an array of tools on a side table—gleaming steel pieces meant for machinery fixes, striking pure dread into the heart of Sofia’s merchant underling.

"Talk." The interrogator broke the silence at last, his voice deep and icy, stripped of feeling. To the merchant, it rang like sweet salvation, letting him exhale in massive relief.

"Your cooperation level decides the charges." His steady words packed a heavy threat, snapping the merchant back to rigid fear right after that brief ease.

"I will! I will!" The merchant clamored, clutching at this straw. He drew a shaky breath to steady himself: "Sofia dispatched me here four years back..."

He halted, gulped down hard, then pressed on: "She handed me chunks of cash to set up shop, my cover’s purely a merchant... No missions from her all these years."

"Keep going." The interrogator prompted without emotion, his gaze fixed firmly on the businessman, catching every tiny shift in his face.

"Roughly half a year back..." The businessman stuttered, his eyes darting about as if dredging up a memory: "She reached out to me out of nowhere..."

He halted once more, like he was sorting through his thoughts: "Staying at my home..."

Beside him, the recorder scribbled furiously, capturing every bit of the interrogation. Next to that sat a tape recorder along with even more sophisticated gear.

His words dropped to a whisper, barely audible: "And then... she began scheming to assassinate His Majesty the Emperor..."

"Go on talking." The interrogator cut in abruptly, his voice turning sharper: "What part did you have in this? What actions did you take?"

"Sir! I swear I did nothing!" Sofia’s underling refused to link the Emperor’s assassination to himself, bursting out desperately, his tone laced with hopelessness: "I lack the courage for such a thing!" He shook his head vigorously, tears streaming down, clouding his sight.

"Recount the facts! Cut the crap!" The interrogator bellowed harshly, impatience creeping into his words. At this stage, resistance was futile; death was inevitable, so all that remained was bargaining for a less painful end.

"I..." The merchant faltered, avoiding the interrogator’s stare: "She simply requested my help in placing bombs..."

"How many bombs did you prepare altogether? Where were they placed?" The interrogator bore down relentlessly, his voice intensifying, as though drilling into the merchant’s very soul. This was the crux of the questioning—the bombs’ locations remained a mystery. He had to dig deep: "Are you aware of any other Sofia subordinates pursuing similar tasks?"

"Sofia had a burly guy with her, name unknown, handling the backup plan with a sniper rifle to kill the Emperor... I, me and, me and Sofia managed the bombs... That’s everything I know."

As he spilled these details, an agent spun around and exited the room, pulled out a phone, and alerted a teammate from a different ops team. This merchant’s account would propel the parallel probe forward without hitches.

Nobody could rashly assume just two kill squads existed, but this merchant confirmed knowledge of two, both now in custody.

Noticing the departure, the merchant gulped nervously and pressed on, quivering, his murmur faint: "I carried the bomb for a trial run, yet security at the Forbidden City was ironclad. Lacked the nerve to approach the Observation Platform..."

He stopped, gathering resolve, then went on: "The cash she handed over vanished in business losses, no spare funds to grease the guards..."

"Lying means far worse torment for you." The interrogator cautioned coldly, his words dripping menace.

"I used the money she provided..." The merchant flipped his story instantly, spilling truthfully, terror in his eyes: "Failed to bribe Forbidden City guards, too scared to admit it to her, blew it all on my own..."

"Blew it?" The interrogator queried with interest, doubt edging his voice.

"Ah... Right, I, I kept the money for myself." The merchant rushed to reply, eyes shifting. Fearing disbelief, he elaborated: "Own a hideaway property outside town... Bribing’s no simple feat... This is a capital offense; nearing anyone for the Emperor’s hit is suicide..."

"Keep spilling it." The interrogator smirked inwardly. Sofia’s crew were all cut from this cloth. How could she challenge the Great Tang Empire Security Bureau? With a chilly mental scoff, he commanded unyieldingly.

"No choice... Couldn’t face Sofia..." The merchant justified, helplessness tinting his words: "Thus, couldn’t get the bomb close to the Observation Platform, so, so, I stashed it in my store."

"Store’s address! Out with it!" The interrogator roared commandingly, intimidation thick in his voice. Learning of at least one live bomb lingering in Chang’an City put the Imperial Security Bureau agents on high alert again.

"194-6 Star Street." The merchant uttered shakily, then hastened to plead: "No need to panic... I, I skipped adding the detonator..."

He feared the bomb could detonate without warning, obliterating his entire shop, which was why he never fitted the fuse into the explosives themselves.

"You actually... possess quite the sense of caution!" The interrogator shot a scornful look at the man, then swiveled toward his subordinates huddled in the corner, barking: "Dispatch someone at once to verify this! Make it quick!"

"Sir... I, I truly lack the, the guts to assassinate His Majesty the Emperor..." The merchant wailed desperately. The interrogation room door creaked shut gradually, silencing his cries echoing down the corridor the moment it latched.