Before the official call, Mu Dai phoned Shen Gun to give him a heads-up, essentially asking him to be understanding if Luo Ren’s attitude wasn’t pleasant.

Shen Gun said, “Huh? Who’s this Luo Ren character? He’s not my friend, so why should I be understanding? I’m not taking the call even if he rings.”

Indeed, published authors truly are big shots with such arrogant personalities. High-level people are often like this. Mu Dai quickly clarified her position: “That’s exactly what I mean. I can’t stand his self-important attitude either. We need someone like you with culture and eloquence to put him in his place—crush him completely, on all fronts.”

Shen Gun was delighted by her flattery and immediately brightened up: “Alright, Little Pocket, for your sake, I’ll crush this Little Radish.”

Little Radish? Mu Dai nearly dropped her phone.

Turning around, she had to give Luo Ren a heads-up, too.

“This person…” she struggled to describe him, “has quite a personality. Think about it—someone who deals with supernatural and mystical matters naturally thinks differently from ordinary people. You can tell from the name he’s given himself: Shen Gun [Spirit Stick]. Why use such a flashy, deceptive term? It shows his confidence.”

Mu Dai was trying her best. Luo Ren was both irritated and amused. All this talk just to get him to be polite to this so-called Shen Gun? Fine, being polite doesn’t cost anything.

He nodded: “What else?”

Surprisingly, there actually was more to come. Mu Dai hesitantly continued: “He doesn’t like calling people by their proper names, he just casually gives them nicknames…”

She quickly emphasized: “But it’s just casual, absolutely no negative connotations. For example, he calls Wan Fenghuo ‘Little Wanwan,’ and me, he calls ‘Little Pocket’…”

Luo Ren was moved. If Mu Dai was using herself as an example to cushion the blow, how offensive must the nickname Shen Gun have been to him?

He calmly picked up his cup and took a sip of water: “Go ahead, what ridiculous nickname did he give me?”

“Little… Radish.”

Luo Ren’s scalp tingled slightly, but it wasn’t too bad, not offensive.

What made it worse was Mu Dai’s anxious attempt to smooth things over: “Actually, radishes… are nutritious and good for you. There’s a folk saying, ‘Radishes in winter, ginger in summer, no need for a doctor’s prescription.’ Some places call radishes ‘earth ginseng,’ so he’s praising you, comparing you to ginseng, Luo Ren…”

Luo Ren couldn’t hold back and sprayed his tea everywhere.

Mu Dai had been expressively explaining this right in front of Luo Ren, not expecting him to suddenly react that way. Despite her quick reflexes to avoid it, half her face still got splashed.

Mu Dai, always fastidious about cleanliness, jumped up with a yelp, searching the room for tissues. Luo Ren took out a handkerchief from his pocket, just as he was about to hand it over, Mu Dai snatched it away in a huff, wiping her face while glaring at him.

Luo Ren sincerely apologized: “I’m sorry, Mu Dai, for spraying ginseng water on your face.”

The official call finally began.

Luo Ren took the lead, explaining clearly and systematically. At first, Shen Gun thought it was just an ordinary case and listened somewhat absentmindedly, but gradually became drawn in. Occasionally, he would ask Luo Ren questions that hit the mark, such as: What exactly was the reason for such a long interval between the first and second murders?

For Mu Dai, it was like going through the entire case again—Luoma Lake, Erlianhot, Xiaoshang River, Zhang Guanghua, Liu Shuhai, Luo Wenmo, and… Pin Ting.

Finally, Luo Ren said, “Finding the truth is certainly important, but for me, rescuing Pin Ting is now the most urgent matter.”

After a brief silence, Shen Gun said: “Among all the cases I’ve seen, there’s nothing similar, but my intuition tells me there should be. It feels like something is still missing—if only we had more clues.”

Hah, if they weren’t at their wits’ end, they wouldn’t be desperately seeking his help. Still missing something? Missing the truth? If they had already found the truth, why would they need him?

Luo Ren smiled slightly, but for Mu Dai’s sake, he didn’t voice these thoughts.

But Shen Gun wasn’t just making empty talk: “I’ll call you back later. I need to think this through.”

The wait wasn’t long, though it felt endless. Luo Ren took Mu Dai to visit Pin Ting.

Through the bars, they saw Pin Ting sitting on the floor hugging her knees, staring blankly at the carpet, unconsciously pulling her feet back as if afraid imaginary blood would stain them.

“Luo Ren, you and Pin Ting aren’t blood-related, are you?”

Luo Ren turned to look at her: “Why do you ask?”

“Just a feeling.” Mu Dai gestured toward the chain around his neck. “It’s like wearing a lover’s photo. My intuition is usually accurate.”

Luo Ren smiled: “Not just Pin Ting—Luo Wenmo and I aren’t blood-related either. We just happen to share the surname Luo. When I was young, due to family circumstances, I lived with Luo Wenmo for a long time. In my heart, they’re closer than actual relatives.”

“But Uncle Zheng said that after Pin Ting’s incident, you never came back to see her.”

Luo Ren’s eyes darkened briefly, but he quickly smiled again.

“I didn’t come back because I was ashamed.”

“Uncle told me not to let him kill anyone, and I failed. When I left Pin Ting, I told her, ‘Don’t be afraid, I’m here for you.’ But what happened? She went insane. My words were meaningless—not a single promise kept. I’ll never make promises to anyone again for the rest of my life.”

Mu Dai stared at Luo Ren, wanting to say something but not knowing what.

A distant ringtone broke the silence—Shen Gun was calling.

Shen Gun said, “I’ve gone through the entire case from beginning to end. What I’m about to say is just speculation. But speculation isn’t necessarily wrong. Any scientific theory exists as speculation or hypothesis before being proven by experiment or fact.”

Luo Ren felt his throat go dry: “So, what’s your speculation?”

“There’s something inside Pin Ting’s body. I’m not sure where it came from yet, but it’s the same thing that was inside Zhang Guanghua, Liu Shuhai, and Luo Wenmo.”

“This thing isn’t like a virus; it seems alive. Its transmission doesn’t resemble infection but more like nearby free choice. I’ll assume its shape is rectangular, and if you could see it, it might look like human skin—a rectangular piece of human skin.”

That made sense, since both deceased Liu Shuhai and Luo Wenmo were missing such a piece of skin from their backs.

Mu Dai interjected: “What about the feet? Everyone had their left foot cut off.”

“Little Pocket, be patient. I’ll get to that shortly.”

Alright, Mu Dai wisely kept quiet.

“Liu Shuhai and Luo Wenmo were only discovered to be missing a piece of skin during the autopsy, and there was no corresponding tear in their clothing. This is the main reason I believe this skin is alive. I suspect that when the victim dies and the scene is chaotic, this piece of skin quietly crawls out from the victim’s collar and hides itself.”

It was a spine-chilling imagination, but after careful consideration, they couldn’t raise any objections.

Currently, we only have Liu Shuhai and Luo Wenmo as reference cases. Cen Chunjiao ran out when Liu Shuhai died, and when she returned, she brought an old doorman with her, possibly alerting other onlookers. As for Pin Ting, according to you, after Luo Wenmo’s death, only Pin Ting was at the scene. Uncle Zheng discovered it after some time had passed.”

Luo Ren’s heart jolted: “Are you suggesting this piece of human skin consciously avoids numerous witnesses and tends to choose isolated individuals?”

Shen Gun said, “Yes, it’s like crime—rarely committed in public, usually targeting deserted alleys and lone pedestrians.”

“You mentioned that the small inn in Jinan was near the bus station, and your uncle’s car arrived late at night due to a breakdown on the road. If your uncle happened to be passing alone behind the small inn just after the murder, and that piece of skin crawled out from Liu Shuhai’s room window… that’s what I meant by nearby selection with a certain freedom.”

Mu Dai felt chills running down her spine as she stared at the case notes on the wall. Indeed, it was nearby selection: Zhang Guanghua drowned in a river near Datong, and Liu Shuhai showed abnormalities after his car accident and fall into water near Datong; Liu Shuhai died in a small inn near Jinan’s bus station, while Luo Wenmo happened to pass by late at night; Luo Wenmo committed suicide in his room, and at that time, only Pin Ting rushed in.

Luo Ren asked: “Does this piece of skin have the power to bewitch people, forcing them to drastically change their behavior and do things they wouldn’t believe themselves capable of?”

Shen Gun hesitated briefly: “I believe so, but it varies according to a person’s experience, knowledge, self-control, and so on. For instance, your uncle seems to have had strong self-control and possibly put up some resistance. You once asked Pin Ting what exactly was wrong with him, and she couldn’t say, which suggests Luo Wenmo controlled it well—only family members could sense something was off through intuition. He even told you, ‘Don’t let me kill anyone.'”

“In stark contrast is Pin Ting. Because she’s already insane, her consciousness is easily controlled, so her abnormal behavior is extremely obvious.”

That did seem to be the case. Uncle, in those days, might have had urges to sing and dance, but they were just momentary flashes of confusion in his mind, quickly controlled. But Pin Ting was different—she had no inhibitions, singing when she wanted to sing, dancing when she wanted to dance, not caring whether it was appropriate or if anyone was watching.

The room grew frighteningly quiet. Shen Gun cleared his throat: “Now, let’s set this issue aside and discuss another.”

“‘The Song of Dance’ is an ancient folk song, and foot amputation was a punishment from roughly the same era. Previously, you were constrained by the idea that ‘foot amputation’ and ‘skin removal’ were both horrific death conditions. But what if we consider them separately?”

Mu Dai couldn’t help but ask: “How can they be separated?”

“The skin removal is this piece of skin leaving on its own because it needs to find its next host. But the foot amputation is another force punishing the criminal—perhaps the crime committed at the time corresponded to the punishment of foot amputation.”

After saying this, Shen Gun paused for a good while: “Do you understand?”

Mu Dai nodded: “I understand.”

“What about Little Radish, do you understand?”

Despite the tense and eerie atmosphere, Mu Dai still wanted to laugh when she heard Shen Gun call him “Little Radish.”

Luo Ren gave Mu Dai a somewhat helpless look: “I understand.”

“Good. Now, I’ll state my most important inference—how to save Pin Ting.”

Luo Ren’s gaze suddenly intensified, and he sat up straight. Mu Dai also held her breath in tension.

Shen Gun’s next words left them speechless.

“Aren’t you going to applaud? Shouldn’t there be some applause when important matters are announced?”

How could Luo Ren applaud in this state of mind? But Shen Gun had been analyzing for so long, and it did seem worthy of praise. Mu Dai had no choice but to clap on her own. Luo Ren looked at her, and her applause immediately grew softer. She felt frustrated inside: Why am I doing this? For whom?

But that small trace of grievance was quickly overshadowed by Shen Gun’s next words.

“If my speculation is correct, Pin Ting, like Luo Wenmo, will soon kill someone. You can try to prevent it, but you can’t be perfect, and you might not succeed. Pin Ting will soon face the same fate as the previous three—death, foot amputation, skin removal.”

Luo Ren’s face gradually turned deathly pale.

Mu Dai couldn’t bear it and quickly asked Shen Gun, “So, how do we save Pin Ting?”

“The foot amputation happens because the deceased killed someone. The skin removal happens because the person is already dead and has no more use, so it seeks a new host. My idea is to have Pin Ting feign death before she has a chance to kill anyone. After the skin leaves her body, revive her.”

“Feign death?”

Shen Gun chuckled: “Of course not, the kind of pretend death—that wouldn’t fool it. I mean actual cessation of breathing, using these few minutes for the skin to leave her body, then… resuscitating her.”

“However…” his tone shifted, “this ultimately isn’t a good solution.”

Mu Dai understood.

No one knew what kind of evil force this so-called living “human skin” truly was. After it left the body, could it be restrained, trapped, or contained? If not, even if they saved Pin Ting, there would always be another victim to possess.