Chapter 8: Seeking "Wu Jing" for a Scam

Without knowing his own identity, Xing Xiaolong came up with a surefire shortcut to obtain his personal information: get himself into the police station.

Regardless of whether Xing Xiaolong had legal status or not, as long as he entered the station, was handcuffed, and seated in that “iron chair,” all answers would be revealed. At the very least, his family details for the past three generations would be clear.

But how could he manage to get into the police station without committing a serious crime that might affect his upcoming military training?

This wasn’t a difficult problem for Xing Xiaolong!

After walking a couple hundred meters down the street, drawing on the specialized micro-observation skills honed during his military security guard training, Xing Xiaolong quickly gathered ample information.

The social structure and environment of this world were almost identical to the one he was familiar with. The streets bustled with black-haired, yellow-skinned people, and shop signs everywhere bore Chinese characters, making it clear this was a city very much like those back home. In fact, it could very well be the downtown of a city in his own country. Of course, this still needed confirmation.

Since it was a modern, law-abiding society, and since the law differentiated between civil and criminal matters, the ideal way to get into the station and access the information he wanted—without tarnishing his personal record—was to start a fight.

He couldn’t, of course, attack a police officer or randomly pick a fight in a public place; assaulting an officer or provoking trouble would be too much. The best plan was to create a civil dispute, something minor that skirted the boundaries of disturbing public order, ideally resulting in both parties being taken to the station.

That way, Xing Xiaolong would be detained for a public order violation, and through the authorities’ internal system, he’d be able to find out whether he was an undocumented person or a “legal citizen,” as well as all his personal information.

If Xing Xiaolong really had a legal identity in this world, joining the military would be straightforward—he’d just need to sign up at the recruitment office.

Having settled on a plan, it was time to act.

Xing Xiaolong scanned the crowd and walked a few hundred meters along the street. After careful selection, he found what he thought was the perfect target: a young couple, glued together, laughing and joking as they shared an ice cream cone, blatantly showing off their affection in public.

Single for over twenty years, Xing Xiaolong strode toward the lovey-dovey couple. With his height of 1.81 meters and a solid physique built through military training—even if he hadn’t handled firearms—he felt confident he could easily take down the young man, who looked to be only about 1.73 meters tall.

“Sorry, my friend, but I have no choice. Just blame your bad luck,” Xing Xiaolong muttered inwardly, apologizing in advance as he quietly approached the couple from behind.

He waited for the perfect moment: just as the girl on the right playfully pinched the young man’s nose and the latter dodged to the right, Xing Xiaolong deliberately sped up, ensuring that as the young man moved left, he collided squarely with him.

“Damn, this guy is solid! Like running into a wall,” thought Xing Xiaolong, who had assumed that being bumped by this “shorty” would be nothing to him. Instead, it felt like a muscular brute had rammed into his chest—knocking the wind out of him and leaving his chest aching.

Clearly, this inconspicuous “shorty” was anything but weak; his entire body was packed with muscle.

He was the type that looked slim in clothes but was nothing but muscle underneath—a true powerhouse.

“Shit, I must’ve picked the wrong target,” Xing Xiaolong thought, stumbling from the impact. He sensed something was amiss, but it was too late to back out now; he could only grit his teeth and carry on.

He raised his voice and shouted angrily, “What the hell is wrong with you? Can’t you see where you’re going? If you want to be all lovey-dovey, do it at home, not in the street!”

“We’re so sorry, we didn’t mean to,” the girl quickly apologized, unaware this was a setup. She thought her boyfriend had accidentally bumped into Xing Xiaolong.

“Huh?”

As Xing Xiaolong caught up from behind, he finally saw the girl's face. For a split second, she seemed oddly familiar, though he couldn’t recall where he’d met her before, and this wasn’t the time to ask.

To keep the act going, he roared again, “Sorry? Is that supposed to fix it? If an apology was all it took, why would we need the police? I’m not going to argue with you. You bumped into me, and now I’ve suffered serious internal injuries. Today you’re paying me compensation for emotional distress—ten thousand, or you’re not leaving!”

“Injuries? You…”

The girl was furious at being extorted after offering a sincere apology, her cheeks flushing red. She stepped forward to argue, but the young man beside her pulled her back. He turned to face Xing Xiaolong, giving him a slow, appraising glance from head to toe.

He raised an eyebrow and said coldly, “Look, buddy, you’re clearly here to pick a fight. A man your size has nothing better to do than scam people on the street? Aren’t you ashamed? Let me make this clear: you’re not getting a cent out of me. But if it’s a fight you want, I’m happy to oblige.”

This “shorty” clearly wasn’t someone to be trifled with. Despite being half a head shorter than Xing Xiaolong, he showed not the slightest fear and was ready to fight right there and then.

“Wait a minute… Aren’t you… Wu Jing?” Xing Xiaolong’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as he got a good look at the young man.

Though Xing Xiaolong loved playing military shooter games and rarely had time for movies or endless TV series, there was one exception—“Wolf Warrior.”

That film had taken the country by storm, shattering box office records everywhere. Back in his army days, Xing Xiaolong had even taken leave from his regiment for the first time ever to see it in a theater. The retired soldier protagonist, Wu Jing, had made a deep impression on him.

And now, this “shorty” standing before him looked exactly like Wu Jing—except much younger, barely out of his teens, seemingly not even twenty yet.