Accidental Hero: The Rookie Who Outshines the Force - Chapter 92

Fengzi glanced at Lu Cheng, then at his own “Qilin Arm,” and thought to himself: this shouldn’t be possible.

Xiao Zheng and Xiao Hu suspected that Fengzi was intentionally holding back, subtly currying favor with Su Qingwu.

Xiao Zheng muttered, “Let Maoge take this one!”

A taller, more muscular detective stepped forward. His arms were thick and veined, clearly honed by regular workouts.

Maoge was Su Qingwu’s devoted admirer. To him, Lu Cheng was nothing short of a thorn in his side.

There was no way he’d let Lu Cheng get off easy.

“Ready? Three… two… one… go!”

Maoge lowered his stance, veins bulging on his forearms.

1.5 seconds later—

Smack!

Lu Cheng effortlessly slammed a powerful arm onto the table, making it recoil from the impact.

Maoge slowly straightened, frozen in disbelief.

All he could picture in his mind was the rage-faced meme of Cao Aman overturning a rice bowl.

1.5 seconds. Instant defeat.

Xiao Zheng and Xiao Hu couldn’t help exclaiming—Lu Cheng’s arm strength was insane.

The remaining two didn’t dare challenge him—one out of fear of losing, the other out of concern for the honor of the entire criminal investigation unit.

Not competing didn’t mean defeat… but a total wipeout was almost the same.

A group of young detectives seethed—once again, Lu Cheng had shattered their pride!

This kid… damn it!

Xiao Zheng and Xiao Hu couldn’t beat him, so they joined in—after all, he was Su Qingwu’s partner. In their eyes, he was “on their side.”

Last time, he’d even brought them seafood for a night snack. Comforted by that memory, they weren’t upset at all. In fact, they were happy.

On the third-floor window, Qin Mian smoked quietly, watching Lu Cheng. He turned to Su Qingwu and asked, “How’s your boyfriend’s shooting skills?”

“Better than mine,” Su Qingwu replied casually.

Qin Mian’s hand trembled, cigarette dropping slightly. “You’re not joking?”

“No.”

“…”

He stared at Lu Cheng’s back, feeling an ever-stronger urge to summon him over.

…

At the moment, Lu Cheng’s strength at 22 points was equivalent to a 75kg-level national weightlifting champion, capable of deadlifting 180kg.

Combined with Martial Arts Mastery Lv2, his muscle quality across the body was further enhanced.

Pure strength-wise, no one could get the upper hand unless they were at least two levels stronger than him.

Leaving the precinct, Lu Cheng drove back to Qianfo Temple.

Yesterday’s lack of progress didn’t discourage him.

For the police, monitoring a suspect for several consecutive days was routine.

But now, Lu Cheng was acting alone.

He couldn’t call for backup—there was no evidence. How could he explain it?

Claiming Master Huiming was suspicious, not a real monk? The abbot could easily counter with defamation charges.

Entering the temple, worshippers streamed in as usual.

Qianfo Temple was known in Sanliqiao for blessings related to wealth and children, drawing both devout worshippers and tourists.

Lu Cheng headed straight to the main hall. Before he reached the entrance, the Fly Catcher triggered—Master Huiming was within fifty meters.

He entered and paid respects to the Buddha—after all, only Buddha statues could be “free to worship.”

Incense and divination cost money. Lu Cheng wasn’t going to fund a temple with a suspicious abbot.

Hands clasped, he bowed repeatedly while keeping one eye on Huiming.

It had to be said—Master Huiming’s skill in Buddhism was impressive enough to awe the worshippers.

But to Lu Cheng, an unbeliever, it all sounded like clever psychological manipulation—pushing worshippers to buy “first incense,” ring the bells, and attend meditation classes.

No wonder he became abbot—he was a master at collecting wealth under the guise of piety.

Gone were the days of “Buddha saves those with fate.” Now, it was “Buddha saves those with money.”

Lu Cheng shook his head. Does faith really require burning incense in a temple? Isn’t it supposed to be “Buddha in your heart, Buddha in all you see”?

Satisfied that Huiming was in the main hall, Lu Cheng moved to the rear courtyard, hoping to sneak in and inspect the mat.

But the janitor monk from yesterday was still on duty. If seen, Lu Cheng couldn’t explain himself.

Two hours passed. The janitor monk… was still sweeping.

Two hours! Such a small courtyard… how long does it take to sweep it clean?

Maybe he wasn’t sweeping the floor—maybe he was sweeping the world’s dust.

Lu Cheng sighed—no chance today.

When the temple closed, Lu Cheng, as yesterday, crouched outside, waiting for Huiming to slip up.

This time, he was better prepared: long sleeves, long pants, a sun-shield mask—no exposed skin, no mosquito bites.

Using the same excuse, he told He Xueting he was covering a night shift for a colleague.

As monks completed their bedtime rituals—chanting and prayers—everyone returned to their quarters by nine.

Huiming, however, stayed.

By 10:30, Lu Cheng noticed he still hadn’t gone to bed.

His purple-light indicator wasn’t on the bed—it remained at the scripture desk.

Lu Cheng assumed he was reading or writing. Another half-hour passed, and finally, Huiming turned off the lights.

Something clicked in Lu Cheng’s mind—lights off but not in bed? That was suspicious.

Under the dim moonlight, he scaled the wall with ease.

Hands gripping the top, he climbed over.

Temples had cameras, but dead zones existed.

Approaching Huiming’s courtyard, he saw the gate was locked—so he climbed over the wall again.

Meanwhile, the purple light shifted slightly. Horizontally, Huiming remained at the scripture desk, but vertically, the light had dropped over two meters.

Lu Cheng’s heart raced—there was a basement?

What was Huiming doing down there? Could he have imprisoned someone?

Memories of the Luocheng Prisoner Case over a decade ago surfaced—a man had dug a cellar to trap six women, committing unspeakable crimes.

The thought made Lu Cheng tense.

He tracked Huiming’s position closely. Confirming the abbot remained in the basement, he approached the door quietly.

An old-style wooden door, locked, could be nudged just enough to reveal a finger-width gap.

Peeking through, everything was pitch black. Curtains drawn.

Lu Cheng produced a flashlight, letting a sliver of light shine through the gap, then turned it off.

Sweat beaded on his forehead.

He saw the room—mat lifted, a flat floor beneath—but a square meter-sized seam glowed faint yellow.

Crouching in the corner, he observed the basement’s purple light moving slightly. The space seemed about twenty square meters.

Lu Cheng couldn’t tell what Huiming was doing. No sounds came from below.

He didn’t dare barge in—maybe the abbot was doing something private but legal.

But if Huiming was committing heinous acts… perhaps imprisoning someone…

His mind raced.

He couldn’t act impulsively.

Lu Cheng took a deep breath, hiding in the shadows, waiting.