The manner of death for all ten members of the Xu family was nearly identical to that of the Chen family massacre—every victim had been killed by having their carotid artery severed with a sharp blade, including three young children.
“The same method of killing again.” Bai Jin was furious.
“Not entirely.” Shi Ting turned over the body before him. “This person has no wound on the neck—he was killed by a blade pierced through the heart.”
Bai Jin hurried over, and was also taken aback by what he saw. “Does this mean it’s unrelated to the Chen family massacre?”
“Take photographs first, then have E’Yuan bring the bodies back for autopsy. Don’t jump to conclusions about whether they’re connected.”
He rose and stepped around the body, making his way toward the main room.
The central room of the wing was the Xu family’s parlor. The eldest son of the Xu family lay collapsed inside, his carotid artery severed, blood streaming from the table all the way to the threshold.
Shi Ting picked up the teacup from the table and held it to his nose, his gaze lingering on the distinctive tea set.
“Seventh Brother.” Zheng Yun came in. “The perpetrator ransacked the scene and took away a number of valuables—but one safe in the room was left untouched.”
“The perpetrator was not after money.” Shi Ting said. “He walked in through the front gate without any attempt at concealment, and the family welcomed him with fine tea.”
“Someone they knew?”
“Not necessarily an acquaintance—but someone they recognized.” Shi Ting studied a painting hanging on the north wall. It was a genre scene depicting some kind of folk gathering, with figures, architecture, and local customs all interwoven.
It was an unremarkable painting, by an unsigned artist of no renown, and yet Shi Ting felt something strange about it—though he could not say precisely what.
He had someone take it down and pack it away, intending to examine it more carefully later.
“At least two items in this parlor are priceless.” Shi Ting lifted a jade brush holder. “This jade is warm and silky—smooth as fat—clearly a superior-quality stone, visible even to the untrained eye. And if the perpetrator didn’t recognize the jade, he surely recognized that gold qilin figurine—the gold alone in its casting would be enough to keep an ordinary person fed and clothed for several years.”
“That does have some similarity to the Chen family massacre—the perpetrator killed everyone, ransacked the scene, but only took some of the valuables. In theory, deep in the night, the perpetrator would have had ample time to take everything.”
“Taking the valuables was nothing more than a smokescreen—the perpetrator just wanted to conceal his true purpose.” Shi Ting set down the brush holder. “Were there any footprints or handprints found at the scene?”
“Nothing so far. The perpetrator wore gloves. The scene was disturbed and badly compromised—the footprints are of no use for analysis.” Zheng Yun glanced at the two teacups on the table and his eyes lit up. “The teacups should have the perpetrator’s fingerprints. If he wore gloves while drinking, the victim would have noticed.”
Shi Ting shook his head. “The water in the perpetrator’s cup was untouched—he never touched this teacup.”
“It seems the perpetrator came fully prepared. He left almost nothing of use at the scene—he has a strong counter-intelligence ability.”
“Take the bodies back to the branch first. Perhaps the bodies will give us something to work with.”
By now the sky had gone completely dark, and flashlights proved invaluable.
Guided by the beams of several powerful torches, the bodies were carried out of the compound one by one and loaded onto the branch’s transport vehicle.
Shi Ting stripped off his bloodstained gloves; an officer immediately took them away to be disposed of.
“How is it? Any findings?” Yan Qing maneuvered her wheelchair forward.
“The perpetrator was acquainted with the Xu family’s eldest son, and took some valuables after the killing. The perpetrator is cunning and has strong counter-intelligence capabilities—aside from the bodies, he left nothing of use.” Something like starlight flickered in Shi Ting’s eyes. “On the back of the Xu family’s second son—a section of skin is missing.”
When this body with the missing patch of skin was placed on the autopsy table, both Yan Qing and Shi Ting had the same instinct: the perpetrator behind the Chen family massacre had struck again.
Ten bodies in total had been brought back to the branch—but the branch’s autopsy room was in poor shape, cramped and outdated, clearly unequipped to handle a workload this heavy.
Ever since the promulgation of the Shun Cheng Law, not a single homicide had occurred in Wenshan County. The autopsy table was piled high with all manner of miscellaneous clutter.
E’Yuan muttered and grumbled at length as he cleared it all away.
The first body brought up was that of Xu Yongfu, the second son of the Xu family. Xu Yongfu had died from blood loss after his carotid artery was severed.
Apart from the wound at his neck, the only other abnormality on the deceased was the missing patch of skin on his back.
Yan Qing examined the edges of the wound closely, then said with excitement, “I’m certain of it—the blade used in this skinning was a specialized flaying knife, and both the sharpness and technique are consistent with the wound found on Chen Youwei, the eldest son of the Chen family, in the Chen family massacre.”
Shi Ting considered this. “The same technique, the same location, a patch of skin almost identical in size—what is the perpetrator trying to take, or trying to conceal?”
“Could it be a tattoo?” Yan Qing theorized. “Many organizations share identical tattoos. Perhaps this tattoo could expose the perpetrator’s identity.”
“That’s possible.” Shi Ting said. “I’ll have someone investigate Xu Yongfu’s background.”
When it came to conducting autopsies, Yan Qing preferred to begin with the most difficult cases. Among the ten Xu family bodies, only two were anomalous: the second son, Xu Yongfu, with the missing patch of skin on his back; and the eldest son, Xu Yongjie, who had died from a blade piercing his heart.
The remaining Xu family members had all been killed in the same way—a single lethal cut to the carotid artery.
What Yan Qing dreaded most was performing autopsies on children, especially infants still in their swaddling. They had not yet had a chance to look properly at this world, and already they were being taken from it.
Every time she encountered a case like this, Yan Qing burned with the desire to bring these killers to justice.
When the body of Xu Yongjie, the eldest son, was placed on the autopsy table, Yan Qing and E’Yuan exchanged a glance.
If the same person was responsible for both the Chen and Xu family massacres, this body—the one anomaly that had died from cardiac rupture—might hold an important clue.
The scalpel carved through flesh and skin in the silence of that room, producing a sound that sent a chill down the spine. The night outside grew steadily darker, and the small autopsy room filled with the thick metallic scent of blood.
Fine beads of sweat had gathered across Yan Qing’s forehead. The long journey and the uninterrupted autopsies were pushing her to the limit of her body’s endurance—but standing before the autopsy table, this was her mission. Even if she had to push through on sheer will alone, she would complete it with excellence.
Ten bodies, their remains still fresh. Ten pairs of eyes, unable to close in peace.
“If you can’t keep going, you can take a break.” Unable to bear watching any longer, Shi Ting finally broke the silence.
Yan Qing was not part of the Military Police Division—she had no obligation to work herself to exhaustion on their behalf.
“I’m all right.” Yan Qing glanced at the old clock on the autopsy room wall. “Dr. E, let’s divide the work—you go with Dr. Liu from the branch to handle the other bodies. Xu Yongjie is mine.”
E’Yuan wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve and said, “Good.”
Dr. Liu from the branch, meanwhile, had not performed a single autopsy since joining the force. Now, confronted with ten bloodied bodies laid out before him, he had been so frightened that at one point he could barely hold his scalpel.
Insufficient manpower and limited capabilities were the greatest challenges facing every local branch—and in moments like this, reinforcement from headquarters was essential.
The autopsy room was too cramped for both Dr. Liu and E’Yuan to work at once, so they moved to an adjacent room that had been hastily cleared out.
“So, who exactly is that girl who came with you all?” Dr. Liu couldn’t suppress his curiosity. “She seems incredibly capable.”
E’Yuan said, “She’s a friend of our Director’s, and my own teacher. She works as a volunteer consultant for the Military Police Division—our forensic advisor, in effect.”
“But she looks like she’s only seventeen or eighteen.” Dr. Liu was astounded.
“Don’t let her age fool you—she’s remarkable. The Liao He dismemberment case and the consecutive murders at the nursing school that our division cracked a while back—she was indispensable to both.”
“She’s really that capable?”
“Why else would I have taken her on as my teacher?” E’Yuan shrugged. “Let’s stop talking and get to work.”
Both rooms carried out their autopsies simultaneously. Yan Qing had no assistant—only Shi Ting remained at her side to observe and occasionally lend a hand.
Noticing the sweat continuously forming on her forehead, Shi Ting drew a blue handkerchief from his pocket and gently dabbed away the perspiration.
Yan Qing’s full attention was on the body before her, entirely unaware of what Shi Ting had done.
When the clock hands pointed to twelve, the old hanging clock let out a low, muffled toll—the hammer striking the bell again and again until it had rung twelve times and fell silent.
Yan Qing straightened up, glanced over at the clock, and set down her scalpel. “Done.”
She peeled off her blood-stained gloves. Exhaustion crashed over her in waves, but she rallied what remained of her strength to report her findings to Shi Ting.
“The deceased and the perpetrator had engaged in a struggle. The perpetrator was unable to sever the deceased’s neck smoothly, and instead stabbed the deceased through the heart during the fight—leaving a stab channel in the body. The channel measures 16 centimeters in length and 3 centimeters in width, with a triangular wound shape and smooth wound walls.” Yan Qing spoke each word with precision. “In both this case and the Chen family massacre, the perpetrator used a sharp implement to sever the victims’ arteries, causing death from blood loss. Sharp implements come in many forms, and a wound alone cannot yield a definitive identification—but this time, the perpetrator encountered desperate resistance, and it forced him to reveal the full profile of his weapon.”
Shi Ting said, “Before going into business, Xu Yongjie had served in the military. Based on some old photographs found in his room, he had won a martial arts championship during his service and had a notable reputation in his unit. The perpetrator likely did not anticipate that Xu Yongjie would fight back, which created a flaw in what had been an otherwise perfectly executed plan. His preferred kill method—severing the carotid artery—proved ineffective against Xu Yongjie. The perpetrator was not necessarily in a dominant position during the struggle; simply killing Xu Yongjie was difficult enough—he had no capacity to choose his method.”
He recalled the scene in his mind. “Xu Yongjie’s young daughter was found dead on the steps behind him—it’s very likely that in trying to protect her, Xu Yongjie was momentarily distracted. In that moment of confusion, the perpetrator drove the blade into his heart. After killing Xu Yongjie, the perpetrator killed his daughter as well.”
A powerfully built father—fighting to protect his small, helpless child—while a killer without a trace of humanity raised his blade.
Picturing that scene, both of them felt a deep sadness—and at the same time, their resolve to crack the case grew heavier.
“You just said the perpetrator left the full profile of the murder weapon in the body—what exactly is the weapon?”
—