Winter, 1943. The French Concession in Shanghai.
A new chief detective arrived at the Central Police Station in the French Concession. His surname was Lin, and his name was Lin Yue.
He was greedy. He was ruthless. Right in front of the Japanese secret police, he smashed an anti-Japanese stronghold to pieces, then turned around and smuggled an entire crate of medicine past the enemy for the underground party.
The Japanese all called him a good dog.
"You're a good dog. A good dog should know how to bite."
The upper ranks of the Military Statistics Bureau hated him to the point of grinding their teeth. They slapped the title of major general on him, hoping to hitch him to their war chariot. He burned the paper right in front of them, because the black uniform of a police officer was his shell.
The blacker the shell, the cleaner the accounts inside.
No one knew that if you really listened to that "good advice" System, you'd be done for.
So he listened only to the enemy's advice.
When the enemy told him to bite, he bit. When they told him to slaughter a city, he did.
Then, again and again, the System told him: Character assessment, passed. Reward granted.
"In my eyes, Chinese and Japanese people fall into just two categories: those who pay, and those who don't."
Until Dai Feng was lost in the Shanghai branch of the Military Statistics Bureau.
Until his handler died in a safe house in the French Concession.
Until he realized there wasn't even one person whose body he could claim.
Only then did that game of chess truly begin.
