Mu Dai felt nervous. As she held the thermal imaging device, she felt a muscle twitch in her hand, like something flitting past.

Cao Yanhua was still tirelessly testing for the “heartbeat,” and Yi Wansan, intrigued by his persuasion, had also pressed his ear against the platform to listen.

Mu Dai turned the lens to the angle Luo Ren had indicated.

The principle of thermal imaging, simply put, is heat imaging, or as some call it, temperature imaging—different colors representing different temperatures of the object being observed.

Some horror movies exploit this feature. For instance, alien monsters might detect human body heat. No matter if people hide under beds or behind rocks, when those huge glowing eyes sweep over, the human outlines and their breathing are completely exposed, making the audience gasp and feel their hearts clench.

Mu Dai saw a human form lying prone close to the ground. Different colors are distributed across the body—greenish, bright red, dark, and blackish. Perhaps due to blood circulation within the human body, those colors seemed to breathe and flow. The red outline of the head was raised, like a beast poised to strike.

Mu Dai drew in a sharp breath. Luo Ren reached around from behind her, steadying her trembling arm.

He said, “Don’t be afraid. Look carefully.”

Mu Dai’s breathing quickened. Her gaze tried to move away several times, but she forced herself to keep focused on that spot.

Luo Ren said, “In the past, during night operations when both sides were at a standoff, we would use thermal imaging to observe the other side’s condition.”

“If they are afraid, their chest cavity temperature rises, but their limbs are very cold. If they are angry—the most intense of all emotions—the temperature between upper and lower body forms a stark contrast. The upper body temperature rises significantly, especially the head, which appears bright red—the saying ‘blinded by rage’ isn’t groundless.”

“And if they are sad or depressed, their temperature is almost a cold blue.”

He softly asked her, “Which type is she?”

She was the type Luo Ren had described as ready for battle—upper body bright red, lower body blackish. The temperature was especially high in the chest cavity, so bright it was almost yellow, like an intensely burning flame.

Mu Dai unconsciously lowered her voice: “This type, is it the most frightening?”

Luo Ren shook his head: “No, the most frightening is when the body appears almost entirely black, so calm there’s barely any temperature fluctuation.”

Mu Dai asked softly: “So what do we do now?”

“If the enemy doesn’t move, we don’t move. Let’s watch her first, see what she wants to do.”

Mu Dai made a sound of agreement, while a strange thought flashed through her mind.

Could that prone woman be her mother, Xiang Shilan?

Cao Yanhua and Yi Wansan had finished their commotion and finally noticed Mu Dai and Luo Ren’s activity.

“Junior Master, what are you looking at? It’s pitch dark, you can’t see anything. Why not use the flash?”

He thought she was holding a camera.

Luo Ren smiled slightly and beckoned Cao Yanhua and Yi Wansan over. Only when they were close did he say quietly: “That person is still there, lying prone in the rice field.”

Cao Yanhua’s mouth fell open. When he realized what was happening, goosebumps spread across his body. Yi Wansan wasn’t as nervous, asking Luo Ren: “So what do we do now?”

Luo Ren said, “Sit down and wait. Let her wonder what we’re up to.”

So they sat down in the clearing not far from the Tengma Sculpture Platform. All flashlights were turned off—four people, four silent silhouettes whose intentions were unclear.

Cao Yanhua muttered under his breath that this was called “setting up a false front to confuse the enemy.”

Luo Ren looked at him and said, “Fat Cao, sometimes when you speak, you quote classics and spout references one after another.”

Cao Yanhua became smug, saying: “Of course! In Liberation Monument, who doesn’t know me as Master Cao, the book lover?”

“Take my name, for example. Any scholar would recognize it has a classical reference: ‘Kong, Cao, Yan, Hua, Jin, Wei, Tao, Jiang’—it’s from the Hundred Family Surnames!”

Luo Ren said, “Your parents were quite particular when naming you.”

Cao Yanhua grew even more pleased with himself: “My parents are illiterate. How could they give me such a name? I chose it myself—a stage name. After all, when moving through the world, one needs a name that stands out.”

Yi Wansan interjected: “Then what were you called before?”

Cao Yanhua suddenly fell silent. After a while, as if changing the subject, he turned on his flashlight and shone it up and down the Tengma Sculpture Platform: “There are so many messages left up there.”

Yi Wansan wasn’t fooled: “Fat Cao, what’s your real name?”

As he spoke, he tugged at Cao Yanhua’s clothes. Cao Yanhua jumped away, shaking him off in a few moves, and quickly darted to the edge of the sculpture platform, pretending to examine the graffiti.

Mu Dai had to keep her eyes on the woman, but she could still pay partial attention to the drama unfolding beside her and found herself wanting to laugh.

Over by the platform, Cao Yanhua suddenly exclaimed: “This Sun… Hailin, the name is so familiar!”

Luo Ren thought it sounded familiar too, but before he could place it, Cao Yanhua slapped his thigh: “Isn’t this one of the people whose wallet I stole… I mean, found?”

Now he remembered—Sun Hailin, one of the “witnesses” to Yi Wansan’s car accident pushing incident. Cao Yanhua had previously tested him with blood.

Cao Yanhua muttered: “At his age, he’s still copying young people and coming here to play these games.”

Luo Ren felt a jolt in his heart, sensing some hint was floating just out of reach.

The flashlight beam dimmed as Cao Yanhua, with his backside protruding, swayed to the other side of the circular platform. His light gilded the Tengma statue, adding an air of mystery and strangeness in the darkness.

Yi Wansan murmured as he stared at the outline of the Tengma Sculpture Platform: “In ancient times, this would truly resemble a sacrificial altar.”

He pointed toward the vast expanse of rice plants bending in the wind: “Don’t they look like they’re worshipping? Imagine a priest standing on the platform, muttering incantations like ‘Heaven spirit, Earth spirit…'”

Luo Ren’s whole body jolted. Instinctively, he shouted: “Cao Yanhua!”

Cao Yanhua started, his head popping up from behind the platform: “Huh?”

Luo Ren said, “Look carefully at the names on the platform. Are there any from Song Tie, Ma Chao, or Wu Yuping?”

Mu Dai froze momentarily but knew to stay vigilant. Her eyes remained fixed on the thermal imaging device, though her heart was pounding furiously.

She vaguely sensed that scattered puzzle pieces were about to connect.

After a pause, she heard Cao Yanhua respond.

—Song Tie is here… I also see Zhang Tong… Haven’t found Ma Chao yet, but he must be here, he’s a little leader.

—Wu Yuping… haven’t seen her…

Yi Wansan went over to help him search.

After another round of searching, they grew dizzy. There were so many characters, densely packed like ants. Without exaggeration, there were enough surnames to compile another Hundred Family Surnames book.

But indeed, no Wu Yuping.

Cao Yanhua looked up at Luo Ren: “Brother Luo, someone of Wu Yuping’s age… a middle-aged woman probably wouldn’t be persuaded to come play these games.”

Before Luo Ren could answer, Mu Dai, who had been keeping watch, suddenly shot to her feet.

Luo Ren sensed something was wrong, but had no time to ask details: “Who is she closest to?”

“Cao Yanhua!”

Her answer was unnecessary. Behind Cao Yanhua in the rice field, there was a rapid rustling motion, like a wave suddenly breaking on the ocean surface.

Cao Yanhua was confused but suddenly felt fear: “Me?”

Without time to think further, Luo Ren took two steps onto the platform, stretched out his long arm, and grabbed Cao Yanhua’s shoulder, pulling him forward. A gust of wind passed by, bending the edge of the rice field and revealing a vague, rigid silhouette.

Cao Yanhua screamed, reaching back reflexively.

Yi Wansan shouted anxiously: “Person! There’s a person there!”

A dark shadow passed overhead—it was Mu Dai.

Everything happened so quickly that Luo Ren could barely sort out the sequence of events. He only knew that as he pulled Cao Yanhua over, Mu Dai had lunged at the figure and rolled with them into the rice field.

Then came a terrified scream.

That scream stopped his heart for several seconds.

The next moment, he rushed to the edge of the rice field, seeing the same pattern as before—a rapidly retreating depression in the rice.

He had no mind to chase: “Mu Dai?”

Though it was only a few seconds, it felt longer than a day and a night. Finally, he heard her soft response.

Luo Ren exhaled, feeling cold sweat on his back. He took a few more hurried steps forward and saw Mu Dai getting up from the ground.

Only now did Cao Yanhua regain his senses, calling from behind: “Junior Master, are you alright?”

That was also what Luo Ren wanted to ask.

Mu Dai stood up and, after a long while, shook her head, saying: “I’m fine.”

Luo Ren went over and gently embraced her. She was breathing heavily, her body trembling slightly. After a moment, she suddenly broke away from him, exclaiming: “Where’s the thermal imaging device?”

She had brought the thermal imaging device with her when she lunged.

Luo Ren took it from her, but didn’t look through it yet. Instead, he asked: “Don’t you know that in such situations, you shouldn’t lunge forward?”

You don’t know what that thing is. You can observe silently, you can watch from hiding, but you shouldn’t charge directly at it.

Mu Dai said softly: “I know.”

She had realized it mid-air, but she had this flaw—perhaps related to her martial arts training—sometimes her body moved faster than her thoughts.

Luo Ren’s tone was somewhat stern: “If you know, then change it.”

He scanned the surroundings with the thermal imaging device. The woman had disappeared, or perhaps was beyond the effective range. At least for now, their immediate vicinity was calm and safe. The wind was just wind, the rice plants just rice plants.

Mu Dai stood with her head lowered for a while, then began walking outward.

Cao Yanhua was still recovering from the shock. Ironically, though he was the person at the center of the incident—pulled and rescued in the commotion—he hadn’t even seen a shadow of the attacker. Confused, he asked first Yi Wansan, then Mu Dai: “What just happened?”

Luo Ren approached him and asked, “What happened to you then? Why did you reach back like that?”

Cao Yanhua hesitated.

It was hard to explain. At that moment, he just felt like a column of cold air had struck the back of his head—yes, a column.

He reflexively reached back, and the instant his fingers touched the wind, it dispersed.

Then, Luo Ren pulled him down to the ground.

He finished and looked at Mu Dai: “Junior Master, what about you?”

Mu Dai bit her lip.

In the thermal imaging device, the woman had been lying prone on the ground. Mu Dai had stood up abruptly because she suddenly saw the woman begin to move rapidly across the ground.

She hadn’t even stood up—just using her forearms and hind legs for power, she moved at extreme speed within the visual range, like an agile reptile.

At that moment, Luo Ren had urgently asked: “Who is she closest to?”

She had answered: “Cao Yanhua!”

In just that moment of response, the woman had already reached the edge of the rice field. Her body pivoted sharply on her heel, and through the lens, Mu Dai witnessed an eerie scene.

From the woman’s chest cavity, where it had been burning like a ball of fire, there emanated a pale blue beam of light, shooting directly at the back of Cao Yanhua’s head.

In that instant, she forgot she was seeing this through a thermal imaging device. She instinctively felt Cao Yanhua was in danger. Her mind and body acted as one—she leaped up, using the Tengma statue as leverage to lunge forward. Her first reaction was to knock the woman down.

As she soared through the air, her eyes finally left the imaging device’s lens, and she realized with shock that what she had just seen was a world composed of temperature. In the real environment, people were still people, shadows shadows.

But the arrow had left the bow and couldn’t be recalled. She couldn’t stop herself. She crashed into the woman, and they both tumbled into the rice field.

As she reached this point in her explanation, her voice began to tremble. She seemed to recall something unsettling and stopped.

Luo Ren thought it was because his tone had been too harsh earlier. He took her hand and gestured for her to sit on the circular platform.

He said softly, “I’m not angry with you.”

Mu Dai forced a smile, then shook her head: “It’s not that.”

“I rolled with her, tumbling together on the ground. The woman was on top of me, so I pushed her away.”

She pushed against the woman’s chest, at the heart’s location, and to her complete surprise, her hand sank in.

The outer layer of fabric covering the chest was merely a disguise. Her hand pushed through, feeling as if it had entered a cavity in the chest.

Through the clothing, she felt the temperature beneath her hand. Not only was there warmth, but also a rhythmic pulsation, like a heartbeat.

Thump, thump, thump.

Her mind went blank. She didn’t even think to stop the woman when she suddenly fled. She lay on the ground for a while, her hand still extended in the pushing gesture.

Cao Yanhua was dumbfounded by what he heard.

He looked at Yi Wansan: “This must be the Murder Slip, right?”

Yi Wansan didn’t respond. Of course it was—it matched the Phoenix Lock’s hints: the rhythmically pulsating cavity and that strange wind.

Luo Ren said, “I think I understand what’s happening now.”

Cao Yanhua was skeptical: “You understand already?”

“Some of it is speculation, but I’m ninety percent certain.” He looked at Yi Wansan. “You reminded me.”

Yi Wansan was confused: “What did I remind you of?”

“You said this resembles an ancient sacrificial altar.”

Luo Ren looked at the Tengma Sculpture Platform: “There’s a supposed horror story about this platform, and a game built around it. At midnight, a person comes alone to the circular platform, puts their ear against the cement, and supposedly hears a heartbeat.”

“The general public might not be interested in the Tengma Sculpture Platform itself, but they’re attracted to the game. Games are thrilling, boast-worthy—tests of courage, bets, and punishment-like pranks. Many people come here for these reasons, like Ma Chao, Zhang Tong, Song Tie, and Sun Hailin.”

Mu Dai suddenly realized: “Are you saying that those who framed Yi Wansan and me, those who spread false accusations—they’ve all visited this Tengma Sculpture Platform?”

Luo Ren nodded: “That’s the connection between them. They have different occupations, different ages, and might be strangers in daily life, but their one common point is that they’ve all visited the Tengma Sculpture Platform.”

Cao Yanhua murmured reflexively: “And then at midnight in this rice field, that eerie woman appears?”

Luo Ren said, “‘Appear’ isn’t quite the right word. More accurately, she ‘waits’.”

Yi Wansan felt a jolt in his heart. That’s right—perhaps she “waits.” The woman discovers people coming, approaches, holds her breath, and waits.

“On such a night, at such a platform, people come holding their breath, pressing their ears against it to hear the so-called heartbeat. It’s more like a devout ritual, similar to ancient times when people would go to altars to listen for the guidance of spirits.”

“It’s at this moment that the woman approaches without anyone noticing. Perhaps through the power of the Murder Slip, she can influence others, just like…”

Luo Ren considered a more vivid description: “It’s as if she injects a virus—harmless at first but waiting for the right moment to activate.”

“The infected people return to their lives, eating, sleeping, and working as usual. Then, when necessary, they suddenly become witnesses, or are arranged to work in concert toward the same goal.”

Mu Dai murmured: “So hearing the heartbeat, followed by that sudden gust of wind, is… the prelude to infection?”

Luo Ren nodded: “In this process, some anomalies occurred. Mu Dai was the first.”

She had come to the Tengma Sculpture Platform with Zhang Tong, imitating him in listening for the heartbeat. Suddenly, she felt a wind directly striking the back of her neck and instinctively raised her hand to block it.

That wind suddenly vanished.

Luo Ren said, “You have the power of the Phoenix Lock, which is why that wind couldn’t affect you, but this immediately exposed you.”

Mu Dai smiled: “So she targeted me?”

“That night, the woman was probably nearby. After you left, she likely followed you, got a clear look at your appearance. Later, after Zhang Tong’s incident on the bridge, the supposed witnesses’ mental image of the perpetrator matched your appearance from that night.”

Yi Wansan felt a chill: “I was the second one exposed?”

Luo Ren nodded: “Your blood caused Ma Chao to lose his composure. But there was a coincidence—the woman happened to be near that street and targeted you impromptu. Such hasty arrangements have the most flaws, which is why you were cleared once the surveillance video emerged.”

“During this period, Wu Yuping was an anomaly. She was the only one whose false memories began to fade without having contact with our blood, and she’s unlikely to have visited the Tengma Sculpture Platform. So I thought of what Ma Chao said—that Wu Yuping suddenly fell when cycling to the bridge.”

“That fall was likely deliberate. The woman probably caused Wu Yuping’s minor accident and then briefly influenced her. But because this influence didn’t occur at the Tengma Sculpture Platform, Wu Yuping’s memories quickly faded and couldn’t persist.”

Cao Yanhua felt a chill down his spine. He looked at Mu Dai, then at Yi Wansan: “Am I the third one exposed?”

Luo Ren didn’t speak, only turning to look at the Tengma Sculpture Platform.

There were as many names on that platform as there were people “infected” by the fourth Murder Slip.

This infection wasn’t lethal, violent, or bloody—it was even refined and civilized.

Just moving the lips to say: I saw it, it was him, he passed by at that time, he pushed him, and so on.

The first three Murder Slips all created scenarios. This one was creating something, too.

But this scenario was ongoing, happening under the open sky of Nantian, in broad daylight.

That woman should be Xiang Shilan, Luo Ren thought. In a way, they should thank her. She wasn’t a high-IQ criminal—her thinking wasn’t meticulous, her plotting was crude, always with flaws.

But every name on the Tengma Sculpture Platform corresponded to a real, living person in Nantian County. You could untangle and verify the false accusations of two or three people, but what if everyone was saying the same thing?

What if among them were police officers, people in charge of surveillance footage, people with the power to influence decisions, people who could make final judgments?

They weren’t safe now. They couldn’t withstand an overwhelming wave of accusations and frame-ups.

They needed to find that woman immediately—there wasn’t a moment to lose.