Zhang Haiyan rushed to the second floor of the Maritime Office and sat in front of the old supervisor. The old supervisor repeated three times, but Zhang Haiyan shook his head each time.

“Absolutely impossible. I trained at the Nanyang Archives and have always been a maritime supervisor,” Zhang Haiyan pushed his credentials in front of the old supervisor, who opened the documents and then shook his head.

“We have never issued such credentials, and we are responsible for shipping, not for any investigations,” the old supervisor said, looking at Zhang Haiyan. Zhang Haiyan continued, “The person who trained us was named Zhang Haiqi; she raised us.”

“Clearly, the person who raised you has deceived you,” the old supervisor said, picking up a key from the side and handing it to the clerk. “Sir, I don’t know what you’ve been through, but here is the key to our archive room. You can check all the records. I can guarantee you won’t find a single piece of paper with the words ‘Nanyang Archives’ on it.”

Zhang Haiyan looked at the old supervisor, took the key, and the old supervisor told the clerk, “Please do not disturb the documents, remain calm. We are on good terms with others; don’t make us uncomfortable.”

Accompanied by the clerk, Zhang Haiyan spent the entire evening in the archive room. Not a single piece of paper bore the words ‘Nanyang Archives.’ In fact, since the establishment of the Maritime Office, there had been no subordinate agencies at all.

Zhang Haiyan silently thanked the clerk, shouldered his bag with the name Zhang Haixia, and left. The dusk was blood-red, and his mind was blank. He arrived at the door of the Haili Bank.

The bank was closing, and he walked in. Under the watchful eyes of the employees, he noticed that all the decorations in the archive room had changed. Even the structure was completely different.

If it weren’t for some details outside remaining the same, he would have doubted whether he had walked into the wrong place.

He was escorted out of the bank by security and sat down at the corner across the street, watching the bank. He and Zhang Haixia leaned against the wall, and he began to recall his childhood.

The Maritime Office was his direct supervisory unit; he didn’t need to report to the Maritime Office but only to his foster mother. Since childhood, their salaries, benefits, clothing, and education had all come from the Nanyang Archives, and they had never doubted that they were working for an official agency of the Maritime Office.

“Could it be that my foster mother has been deceiving me?” Zhang Haiyan couldn’t understand.

Why would she deceive me? If I wasn’t working for an official agency, then all the people I had killed over the years—did that mean I was just like those people on the ship, a killer?

Impossible. The Nanyang Archives must have been erased by a huge force. Was it the true culprit behind that plague?

But the old supervisor seemed like a good person; he had checked all the records himself. Could it really be so thoroughly erased?

Zhang Haiyan looked at Zhang Haixia.

I must be very foolish, he thought, lighting a cigarette for himself, and suddenly saw the note in his pocket.

Miss Dong’s note.

Miss Dong was not an ordinary person; she must know that there were killers on the ship. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be possible for her to act so decisively, using her presence to directly take over Warner’s gun crew and clear the ship.

When this woman boarded the ship, she actually had no helpers by her side; she patiently waited for this opportunity on the ship. She took advantage of Warner’s greed to achieve her own goals. However, this matter originally had nothing to do with her; the assassins were supposed to kill people from the Nanyang Archives. Why would she take such a huge risk to hunt down these assassins?

Could it be that she has a connection to the Nanyang Archives, just like Zhang Ruipu? Zhang Haiyan looked at the note, which was now impossible to trace. The bank was closed, and if she wanted to erase any traces, even the Nanyang Maritime Bureau was so clean, there would be nothing left in the bank.

Zhang Haiyan felt a sense of abandonment. He stared at the note, which presented an entirely unexpected situation for him. He needed to think about what to do next. Suddenly, he noticed a simple drawing in the corner of the note, very abstract but easily recognizable: it was a hermit crab.

He glanced at his watch, which also had a hermit crab on it. This was the emblem of the Nanyang Archives.