He never cleaned up crime scenes, leaving them in complete disarray, littered with evidence. The bodies were simply abandoned at the scene with no attempt at concealment. His home was filthy and foul-smelling, like a garbage dump—exactly what one would expect of a mentally disturbed person’s dwelling.

Yet to say he completely lacked organizational ability wouldn’t be accurate. He would groom himself meticulously before committing his crimes. He also had his distinct signature criminal behaviors and took trophies. These two aspects showed he had a strong sense of ritual. When evading police capture, he managed to escape from tight encirclements with remarkable agility, crossing mountains and remaining cautious and adaptable during his long flight.

Yin Feng tapped a pen against the case file. This indicated that Xu Baping possessed considerable criminal aptitude and mental capacity. If not for that traffic accident that injured his brain and made him prone to rage and emotional instability, he would have executed his crimes more effectively, making it even harder for the police to catch him…

Something stirred sharply in Yin Feng’s mind as if he was about to grasp something important. He picked up the current “apprentice killer” case file and placed it alongside the old one. His brows furrowed in deep thought before a smile emerged.

Perhaps there was an unexpected way to catch this person… instead of searching blindly like they were now.

Having made up his mind, Yin Feng set down the files. After reading for nearly two hours, he felt fatigue setting in. Noticing a bottle of mineral water on the desk corner, he took a drink. Then he leaned back in the chair, gazing out the window.

The afternoon sunlight was peaceful. He could hear people occasionally passing in the hallway, catching snippets of Ding Xiongwei’s laughter and conversation, along with various footsteps. Still recovering from serious injuries and having slept little the previous night, exhaustion was catching up with him. He closed his eyes while resting in You Mingxu’s chair, smiling as he recalled her earlier resigned yet amused expression when she said, “Fine, I’ll drink it.”

He wanted to hold her, to tease her, to see her face flush red with the desire to resist yet unable to bring herself to do so.

Like a fierce wild doe that he had finally managed to embrace.

Yin Feng hadn’t expected to dream, let alone about his time of imprisonment in Guizhou.

Since awakening from his recent serious injury, he has remembered many things, including how he met, knew, and fell in love with You Mingxu. He had also recalled fragments of his experience in Guizhou, though not completely. He vaguely felt he had forgotten something very important, but whenever he tried to think deeper, his head would ache, so he simply let it be, waiting for his memory and brain to recover with time.

Although that memory filled his subconscious with dread, he rarely dreamed of those circumstances. It was as if a barrier separated him from the secrets of that time.

Yet unexpectedly, on this afternoon filled with bloody crime scene images, he dreamed of it again.

It was an exceptionally quiet room, as quiet as this drowsy afternoon.

He seemed to smell blood and feel pain throughout his body. Opening his eyes, he saw bloodstains everywhere.

He was wearing a nearly tattered T-shirt, lying face down on the floor.

Looking up, he saw the room was empty, with a table nearby holding various knives, saws, electric batons, torches… many tools still stained with blood.

His blood.

Yin Feng slowly got up. Even someone as tough and sinister as him couldn’t help but feel bone-deep terror at seeing these tools that had once “attended” to his body.

Though unguarded at the moment, he knew he couldn’t escape this hell. But having managed to stand, he wanted to walk around.

He didn’t know where he was heading.

Where was his Xu? Where was his You Mingxu?

Deep in this old dream, thinking of You Mingxu caused Yin Feng to feel a stabbing pain in his chest. That endless darkness and loneliness loomed behind him like a monster. His hand, hanging from the chair’s edge, unconsciously clenched tight.

He stumbled along the dark corridor for a while. The rough, cold walls felt vivid under his touch, achingly familiar—clearly, scenes etched deep in his memory. He knew he had been here before, truly been here.

Yin Feng reached a doorway and slowly turned his head.

He heard familiar voices speaking inside. Two voices he had heard before.

This room had windows and thus light. A man stood at a desk with his back turned. That figure was so familiar—tall, straight-backed, wearing dark, cold colors just like himself. Hearing movement, the man turned around, and Yin Feng once again saw those cruel, misty eyes that seemed full of contemplation. On that face so similar to Yin Feng’s own, a faint, cruel smile appeared.

Yin Chen.

He said: “Yin Feng is being naughty again, daring to sneak out. Didn’t you enjoy playing with your brother yesterday? Why aren’t you waiting obediently? Yin Feng… your brother’s precious treasure, the meaning brother wants to prove.”

Yin Feng heard himself stammer: “Brother…”

Then he saw the smile gradually fade from Yin Chen’s face as he said: “You saw, didn’t you? You know.”

Yin Feng slowly turned to look at the person sitting at the desk, half-hidden behind Yin Chen.

“He was bound to find out eventually,” Yin Feng heard that person say. Though the voice was familiar, he couldn’t identify who it belonged to.

He only saw that it was a young man, tall and thin, wearing black clothes and glasses, sitting there. Yet Yin Feng felt as if struck hard—he was… he was…

But in the dream, as if surrounded by sunlit mist, Yin Feng could never see his face clearly, only feeling an overwhelming sense of familiarity. It was someone he knew. Someone… impossible to ignore.

That person stood up, face still hidden in the mist, patted Yin Chen’s shoulder, and said: “I’ve chosen Gu Tiancheng. His transformation and absorption will be your responsibility.”

Yin Chen replied: “Alright.” He glanced at Yin Feng, smiled, and asked: “What about him?”

That person said: “Since he’s almost ruined, throw him out.”

Yin Chen smiled and said: “You can bear to?”

That person replied: “I can. Personality is such a base thing—no breaking, no establishing; no death, no rebirth.”

Yin Feng felt dazed, that familiar voice echoing repeatedly in his mind:

No breaking, no establishing; no death, no rebirth.

No breaking, no establishing; no death, no rebirth.

No breaking, no establishing; no death, no rebirth.

…

Vaguely, as if some great forgotten matter, a deeply hidden secret, was about to reveal itself to him, yet remained just out of sight.