When Ryan woke up, the first thing he did was open his system panel:
[Light of Justice – Supercop System 2.0]
Host: Ryan Li (Li Han)Attribute Cap (Human Peak): 20
Current Attributes:
Strength: 16
Agility: 16
Constitution: 16
Spirit: 16
Lifespan: 24 / 120
Status: Strong – Healthy
Bloodline: Ordinary Human – Descendant of Yan and Huang
Talents: Enhanced Hearing & Vision, Photographic Memory
Supernatural Talents: None
Pets: None
Core Skills:Sniping, Computers, Cooking, Chinese, Swimming, Trace Analysis, Stealth, Diving, Forensics, Parkour, Tracking, Disguise, French – All L4 MasterEnglish, Lockpicking, Intel Analysis, Pharmacology, Chemistry, Toxicology, First Aid, Assassination, Makeup, Theft – All L3 Expert
Advanced Skills:Gun-Fu L2 (Bronze), Body of Steel L2 (Bronze), Driving God L2 (Bronze)
Items:Clone Card (15 hours), Infinite Desert Eagle, Substitution Doll ×1, Pet Egg ×1, Cleansing Pills ×2
Cards:Tracker ×9, Bulletproof ×2, Detection ×8, Firearm Upgrade ×7, Cloaking ×9, Wiretap ×5, Early Warning ×5✦ Prophet Card ×1✦ Fortune Card ×1
Storage Space (125m³):$280 million in cash, 200 gold bars, Solid Gold Ferrari 911, Infinite Desert Eagle ×1, one crate of grenades, a USB stick, assorted jewelry, watches, weapons
Justice Points: 800 (1,000 per lottery draw)
System Shop: UNLOCKED
Looking over his flashy status panel, Ryan grinned.
He had just upgraded all his L3 Expert-level skills to L4 Master and all his L2 Proficient skills to L3 Expert.
He'd used exactly 21 universal skill upgrade cards—none left, but worth it.
While his physical stats hadn't changed dramatically, his overall capability was now terrifying.
"Time to take that detective exam."
Now that the system had turned into a greedy merchant, regular patrol work didn't cut it anymore. It just didn't generate enough high-level cases.
And Hollywood Division? It was Beverly Hills' backyard—low crime, rich wives. Too quiet.
His two biggest hauls so far had come from a drug cartel and a high-seas organ trafficking ring—neither of which were everyday crimes.
He checked: administrative leave didn't stop him from taking the detective test. He could do it whenever he was ready.
Ryan got up. The bath water was already cold.
He grabbed a bite to eat and flopped onto the couch. Flipping on the TV, he caught a news report on the ISIS organ trafficking ring takedown.
As he watched, Ryan's expression slowly darkened.
The entire report made no mention of him.
Not just his name—there wasn't a single reference to any lone officer wiping out the entire ring.
The media emphasized it as a multi-agency task force operation, saying the breakthrough came from a kidnapping case that "led them to a long-monitored target," culminating in a full-scale raid.
Ryan's eyes turned stormy.
He didn't do it for fame—he wanted the system rewards.
But still… if the department wanted to take some credit, fine—as long as they talked to him first and offered proper compensation.
But to take everything—without even a heads-up?
"Fk that. If I wasn't tied to this system, I'd have resigned on the spot."**
"Interpol's still law enforcement—bet they'd kill for someone with my firepower."
Fuming, Ryan stormed to the garage and fired up Olsen's Dodge Hellcat.
With the V12 engine roaring, he tore straight for the precinct.
Inside the station, everyone gave him strange looks.
Everyone already knew what he'd done the night before.
But now, after watching the morning news and seeing no mention of him?
Let's just say the silence was heavy.
His partner, Henry, had already raised hell in the team leader's office.
Ryan, meanwhile, marched straight to the commander's door.
"Boss, I need an explanation."
He didn't wait for permission. Just knocked once, pushed the door open, and walked in.
"Piss me off enough," Ryan thought, "and I'll burn Parker Center to the ground."
Commander Alicia looked up, clearly expecting him. Her face was full of helplessness.
"Ryan," she said, "your credit isn't being stolen."
That made Ryan narrow his eyes. With his 16-point Spirit stat, his brain spun like a supercomputer.
"Who's trying to recruit me?"
Alicia blinked. She was genuinely surprised by how sharp Ryan was.
"Last night, after you left, Councilman Liam Clarke contacted me," she began. "He wants to make you a hero cop—Los Angeles' poster boy."
"And your results last night? They've shaken people all over the U.S."
"But then… Director Dylan from the DHS came to me."
Department of Homeland Security.
"He requested that your name be scrubbed from all media coverage," she continued. "He wants to temporarily assign you to DHS."
Ryan snorted coldly.
"Let me guess. He wants me to go undercover?"
"Fk. Him."**
Alicia hadn't expected him to be so blunt. Or so smart.
"Ryan, Director Dylan promised—if you complete this mission, he'll promote you directly into DHS as a tactical team leader."
Sure, DHS had only been created post-9/11, but it had since absorbed over 20 federal agencies and ballooned in power and prestige.
Top-tier salary. Top-tier resources. Top-tier influence.
Most cops and retired military would kill for a shot.
But Ryan?
He scoffed.
Would DHS help him launder $280 million?
Would DHS hand him Hollywood starlets?
Would DHS give him system cards and god-tier skills?
Undercover?
"I'd rather eat sh*t."
"Commander," Ryan said flatly, "not even a dog would agree to that undercover mission."
And with that, he made his stance clear.