Detective story: In 2014, a female body was discovered inside an abandoned factory…
In 2014, a female body was discovered inside an abandoned factory on the outskirts of a small city in Arizona. The old medical examiner, with decades of experience, trembled as he stubbed out the cigarette in his hand. Then, speaking slowly during the briefing, he said, “This girl went through a living hell before she died.”
In 2021, it was the same abandoned factory. But this time, four male bodies were found. Their deaths were even more gruesome than before.
I took the box of orange juice my master handed me, took a sip, then looked toward the four bodies now covered with white sheets. After that, I turned to the police officers who were kneeling outside the factory, vomiting so badly they couldn’t even lift their heads.
“What’s wrong with you guys? You’re all veteran homicide detectives. How can you be throwing up like this?”
My master didn’t look much better. His face was grim as he glanced at me with a meaningful look and said, “Why don’t you go lift those white sheets yourself and see?”
I didn’t believe in ghosts or supernatural stuff. After so many years in this job, I had seen every kind of storm. I walked over to one of the white sheets, pulled it back, then quickly covered it again. My movements were fast and decisive. I looked down at the box of orange juice in my hand, then ran straight out of the factory.
When I turned back, my master’s complexion had improved a lot. Because the pained expression he had earlier had now transferred to me.
My master patted my shoulder. “Kid, you still have a lot of training to do.”
I gritted my teeth and replied, “Yes, Master.”
Suddenly, someone called my master’s name loudly: “Alex Rivera!”
I looked toward the voice. It was Marcus Hale, the current director of the Phoenix Police Department. Marcus Hale frowned as he surveyed the scene. Although he had started as a homicide detective, he didn’t even bother to step forward and lift the white sheet. Years of navigating the official world had taught him that just looking at the piles of vomit outside the factory was enough to imagine how horrific it was inside.
“Master, you don’t look happy,” he said. He hated it most when, during an investigation, higher-ups liked to stick their noses in. But no matter what, they were superiors. Alex Rivera still had to step forward.
“This case is being taken very seriously by the higher-ups. The victims all have special identities. We must catch the killer and punish them severely. There can be no mistakes.”
After giving the instructions, Marcus Hale got back into the police car and left.
Alex Rivera spat on the ground, his face darkening. He turned back. The two of them spoke quite far away, so I couldn’t hear clearly and had to ask again.
“Master, what did Director Hale just say?”
“What else could he say? The same old repeated lines, as if without his reminders, I wouldn’t know how to solve the case.”
Back at the station, I stared at the computer screen. Damn it, Master. All the powerful figures and sons of influential families I could think of were present here.
Alex Rivera snorted coldly. “If not, why would that old man personally come to the scene?”
The “old man” my master mentioned was, of course, Marcus Hale. When I first transferred to the homicide team, I had heard there was some grudge between him and my master. But what exactly it was, Alex Rivera had never told me, and I had no way of knowing.
Right at that moment, the door suddenly opened. “Team Leader Rivera, we found this on the second floor of the factory.”
A police officer handed a photo to Alex Rivera. The photo showed a section of wall on the second floor. On it was a line of words written in blood:
“I will take the sword of justice that you discarded from the darkness and hang it back above your heads.”
“Damn, that’s really badass,” I blurted out.
Alex Rivera slapped the back of my head. His tone was urgent. “You still haven’t seen anything? What?”
I was stunned and tried to recall. “The bodies I saw under those white sheets—what special features did they have?”
“All of them had a hole in the top of their heads.”
I tried hard to remember. Alex Rivera nodded. “But I still don’t understand. What’s so special about that? Even from the autopsy report, we can easily determine the cause of death.”
“That means the killer will strike again.”
Alex Rivera said coldly, “Why?”
“Because the sword of justice has not yet appeared. It has not truly been hung back above our heads.”
“So that means the case from that year didn’t only involve these four as the killers. It’s possible they were just the appetizer.”
That afternoon, the police team held a meeting about the new case. The amount of clues collected was too little, making the investigation almost stalled.
In 2014, the body of Emily Chen was discovered in that abandoned factory. We suspected this new case was directly related to the 2014 massacre. Moreover, there was a high possibility the killer would strike again.
I had checked the files from the old case again. These four people had once been among the suspects in the 2014 massacre, but due to lack of evidence, they had been released. Besides those four, there was another figure: Ryan Park, the owner of Angel’s Bar in the southern part of Phoenix.
What we needed to do now was find Ryan Park and protect him.
“Let’s go.”
My master and I went straight to Angel’s Bar. At this hour, the bar was in full business. Bright lights, loud music, alcohol, and the smell of meat created a world completely different from the reality outside.
My master looked extremely uncomfortable with the atmosphere. He walked straight to the bar counter. “Where is your boss?”
As Alex Rivera asked, he pulled out his police badge from his pocket.
“Ah, sir, we run a legitimate business here,” the bartender shrugged.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Cooperating with the investigation is your duty.”
I reminded him.
The bartender looked uneasy. “Do you have a search warrant?”
Before I could answer, I noticed a group of men had already closed in. Each one was big and burly, with fierce faces.
I smirked. “You want a search warrant? Let me give you one.”
As I spoke, I reached down to my waist. In the blink of an eye, a black gun was pressed straight against the bartender’s forehead.
“Do you believe I’ll have the anti-drug team come here every day to work? Or should I check if your alcohol meets standards? Or maybe go through your accounting books a bit?”
When the bartender saw it was a real gun, he immediately turned into a meek lamb.
“Damn it, if you want me to take you to the boss, just say so. Why all the talk?”
A police officer kicked him in the butt. “Open the door.”
The bartender trembled as he pushed the door open. But right after that, he collapsed to the floor in terror.
Ryan Park was dead.
He was sitting in the office chair. There was a large hole in the top of his head. From the floor to the walls to the ceiling, the entire room was covered in bloodstains.
Alex Rivera frowned. Even after so many years as a police officer, this scene still shocked him.
“This place isn’t somewhere one person could lose this much blood. Call the station and check if there’s DNA from the four previous victims. If there is, this is very likely the first crime scene.”
After the bar was cleared out, only a mess remained. My master and I sat at the bar counter. No one spoke.
Suddenly, a young police officer came running down from upstairs, his face panicked. It was the unlucky kid who had to carry the body for my master earlier.
When I saw him running over, I patted his back to calm him. “Don’t be nervous. Speak slowly. You’ve only just joined the force and already encountered a case like this. Don’t get discouraged. In the world of homicide detectives, this case is truly extremely shocking. But stay calm. What’s your name? Who knows, maybe later the history of the police force will record your name.”
I tried to comfort him.
He panted, his voice broken. “I… I am Ethan Brooks.”
Alex Rivera, standing beside him, asked coldly, “Why did you run down here?”
Ethan Brooks swallowed hard, then said, “On Ryan Park’s back, there is a line of words. It was carved into his skin: the police badge and the oath we take when joining the force.”
Alex Rivera let out a long breath and waved his hand for the young officer to leave.
I frowned and turned to my master. “What’s going on?”
My master said in a low voice, “My master once told me that Ryan Park used to be an undercover police officer. And the person who directly instructed him was Marcus Hale.”
I widened my eyes in shock. “Master, are you saying you suspect Director Hale?”
Alex Rivera stubbed out the cigarette in his hand, using his finger to grind it into the ashtray. His voice was low and heavy. “It’s just a guess.”
I swallowed hard, suppressing the unease. “So is Director Hale in danger?”
My master laughed coldly. “In the police department, what danger could he possibly face?”
“That’s true,” I forced a smile.
When I returned to the station, I saw a chaotic scene. The parents of the four victims were making a huge commotion inside the police station. Marcus Hale didn’t know how to handle it either, because the identities of these people were too special.
After finally dealing with them with great difficulty, Marcus Hale immediately turned and asked about the progress of the case.
Alex Rivera said indifferently, “Ryan Park is dead.”
I caught a fleeting look of panic in Marcus Hale’s eyes.
Right at that moment, the medical examiner walked in, yawning, his eyes dark from lack of sleep. He tossed the report onto the table.
“All four victims were shot in the head. Looking at the wounds, it appears the bullets were fired from a modified police pistol.”
I exclaimed in shock, “A police gun?”
Alex Rivera immediately asked, “Has there been any report recently about a lost police gun?”
I understood he was asking me, so I nodded. “I’ll go check.”
As I turned to head toward the records room, I caught a slightly unnatural look on Marcus Hale’s face. But I didn’t stop. I just kept walking.
There were no reports of any lost police guns in the past ten years.
Alex Rivera pondered for a moment, then said, “Go rest. I don’t know what’s gotten into Director Hale, but tomorrow he wants to question all active-duty officers.”
I frowned. “He suspects the killer is a police officer?”
Alex Rivera shook his head. “Not sure.”
The next day, I sat in the interrogation room facing Marcus Hale.
“On July 13, where were you?”
“I was resting. I was at a volunteer event in Flagstaff.”
I continued asking a few more questions, but didn’t get anything valuable.
As I stepped out of the interrogation room, I met Alex Rivera’s eyes. I smiled faintly at him.
I sat on the long bench in the hallway, quietly fiddling with my fingers.
Alex Rivera walked over and stubbed out his cigarette. It seemed he wanted to say something, but in the end he didn’t open his mouth. He only uttered one sentence: “Damn it, that old man Marcus Hale is so annoying.”
I smiled slightly. “Master, don’t be angry. The important thing now is to solve the case.”
Back in the special investigation team, under the flickering lights, I asked the question that had been bothering me the most.
“Earlier, when the bartender was leading the way, he must have smelled the stench of blood. But why, at that time, did he not seem afraid at all? He only looked like he was afraid of being discovered for something. What was it?”
Alex Rivera took a drag on his cigarette, signaled for me to sit down, then played a video.
In the video, the bartender was sitting in the interrogation room. Across from him was a police officer.
The officer asked, “Why were you afraid of meeting your boss?”
The bartender lowered his head, seeming unwilling to answer.
The officer wasn’t in a hurry. He only tossed a bag of white powder onto the table. “This is just the remainder after you sold it. Do you know what this amount means? It’s enough to execute you eight times. If you confess now, you still have a chance to earn merit and reduce your sentence to life imprisonment.”
The bartender finally looked up. His eyes were red as he stared at the bag of heroin on the table, as if in a daze.
“It’s my boss’s stuff. I have nothing to do with it.”
“Your boss is dead. Do you think he can come forward to testify for you?”
The bartender was truly terrified. I saw his legs begin to shake.
“My boss didn’t let us disturb him.”
“Why did he like to work alone there?”
The officer tapped his fingers on the table. “Ryan Park, I need you to tell the truth, not play guessing games with me.”
The bartender clenched his fists tightly. After a long while, he finally mumbled, “He liked to torture women.”
Alex Rivera turned off the video. His face was calm as he looked at me. His eyes seemed to want to dig something out of me.
“Those four often frequented this bar before they died. They very likely did similar things right there in the office. Their methods can only be described with one word: despicable.”
I clenched my fists and gritted my teeth. “A bunch of scum.”
Alex Rivera exhaled a puff of smoke. His voice was low and heavy. “You should remember: Justice may come late, but it will not be absent.”
I patted the left side of my chest. “I am a police officer. There is my badge there. When I wear the uniform, my police number is also in that position.”
I turned to leave, but right at that moment Alex Rivera suddenly called me back.
“Actually, as a homicide detective, the sentence I hate the most is ‘Justice may come late, but it will not be absent.’”
I stopped and turned to look at him.
He stubbed out his cigarette hard. His voice was hoarse. “Because that sentence means our ability to solve cases is too poor. And time does not heal wounds. It only keeps tearing the scars open until people get used to the pain and accept it.”
I stood there stunned for a moment, then replied softly, “That’s right. Justice cannot be absent, but it also cannot come late. Otherwise, there will be no justice left in this world.”
The case fell into a complete deadlock. The killer’s ability to counter-investigate was too strong. Besides determining the cause of death from the bodies, we couldn’t find any other clues.
Alex Rivera suddenly spoke, his voice hoarse. “We’ve investigated the relationships of Emily Chen again. Have you found anything?”
The whole person looked haggard to the extreme. His eyes were red from lack of sleep, and his stubble covered his face, making him look no different from a vagrant.
A police officer lowered his head in disappointment and reported, “It’s very difficult to find. Emily Chen was an orphan with no blood relatives. Even if we found someone, they had never lived with her, so we couldn’t get anything. As for the orphanage where she used to live, can we find anything from there?”
“That orphanage was an illegal private facility. It was already investigated long ago. The director of the orphanage was actually a human trafficker who made money by selling children. Two years ago, he was executed. Emily Chen’s file, whether in the official system or in real life, is as clean as a blank sheet of paper.”
I pondered for a moment, then made a suggestion. “We can trace the gun. After all, guns and ammunition are strictly controlled in the country. Every police gun has its own registration number.”
But Alex Rivera shook his head. “Just based on the bullet diameter, we can’t confirm it’s a police gun. We can’t rule out the possibility that this is a smuggled gun from abroad. Moreover, if it really is a police gun, you’ve seen it already. In the past ten years, there has been no report of a lost gun. You know what that means: losing a gun means losing your head.”
After a long time, public opinion began to explode. Thanks to the amplification by the victims’ parents, news of the case was pushed to the top of social media. The term “useless police” spread at a shocking speed. Many people even dug up the 2014 massacre again. Same location, same investigative deadlock. It was truly ridiculous.
When we questioned the victims’ parents, they didn’t tell the truth. But in front of the media, they continued to lie. Such hypocritical people could still hold power in their hands.
What no one expected was that, thanks to social media, the case suddenly gained a new clue.
The person providing the information was a man who claimed to be a classmate of Emily Chen.
The day he came to the police station, I happened to be resting, so I could only sit in front of the computer and listen to the recording of the interrogation again.
“Do you know Emily Chen?”
“Yes. Back in school, she and I were desk mates.”
“Did she have any hobbies? Or anyone she was close to?”
“It seemed she had a younger brother.”
“What was her brother’s name?”
“I don’t know. She never mentioned him.”
“I only remember that back then she lived a very hard life. After school, she still had to work part-time. You know how late high school students get out of class. Even I, after a day of studying, didn’t want to move. Yet she still had to go out to earn money. It was really too miserable.”
“Do you know where she worked?”
“It seemed to be a bar. Because at that time, besides bars, there weren’t any other places open so late, especially in 2014. Even 24-hour fast-food chains hadn’t appeared in that area yet.”
“A girl who wasn’t even of legal age, with no connections and no money, could only go to places like that.”
“Do you remember the name of that bar?”
“I forgot. I only saw it mentioned online, so I contacted the police. I left there a long time ago.”
“It was Angel’s Bar, right?”
“Yes, yes. That’s the one.”
“Thank you for the information. If this clue helps the case, we will prepare a reward for you.”
“No need for a reward. But… has Emily Chen really died? Before, I heard she transferred to another place to continue studying.”
“She has really died. It’s a pity. She was a very hardworking person. Her studies were also quite good.”
“Oh, right. She also had a very close friend outside of school. His surname was King. He was a young man. She often mentioned him.”
“Do you know his full name?”
“I don’t know.”
The interrogation ended. The valuable information was only that much.
I turned to Alex Rivera, my face full of distress. “Master, a younger brother whose whereabouts are unknown, a friend whose only known detail is the surname King. How many people have the surname King? Master…”
Alex Rivera sighed. “That’s why this case is so difficult to investigate. But yesterday I went to see my master. I asked him if the case of Emily Chen from that year had any important clues. He said yes.”
I looked up. “What is it?”
Alex Rivera spoke slowly, uttering two words: “Video recording.”
I frowned. “What video recording?”
“They had a habit: every time they tortured someone, they would record a video. But there was only one segment missing—that was Emily Chen’s segment.”
I felt my back go cold. “Master, what are you saying?”
He said, “As long as we find that tape, we can definitely convict them.”
“So where is that video recording?”
“It wasn’t found that year.”
I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. “So after so many years, they must have deleted it completely.”
But Alex Rivera shook his head. “No.”
I was surprised. “Why?”
“Because that was Ryan Park’s only trump card when negotiating with them. So that tape is very likely in the hands of the killer who murdered Ryan Park.”
Alex Rivera nodded.
I took a deep breath, my voice lowering. “That means if we find the tape, we can close the 2014 massacre case. But first, we have to find the killer of this murder case. In other words, these two cases can be considered one unified case.”
I clenched my fists. “But the biggest problem is we don’t have any clues about the killer at all. It’s a deadly loop.”
I sighed and turned off the computer, staring at the photos on the white board.
Right at that moment, Alex Rivera’s low voice sounded. “There will be clues, right?”
I nodded slightly, my voice so soft it was almost a whisper. “There will be.”
A few days passed. The atmosphere in the homicide team became extremely tense. Everyone was in a state of mental exhaustion.
A girl in the prime of her youth had died. A group of privileged young masters had been murdered. On top of that, a loyal hound of the powerful had also lost his life. The chain of events was so obvious it couldn’t be mistaken. Yet the key evidence couldn’t be found anywhere.
All of us knew the killer would definitely strike again.
Someone suddenly spoke up. “The killer is taking revenge for Emily Chen. Until he kills all the people he needs to kill, the evidence will naturally be revealed. We can just wait. After all, those bastards deserved to die.”
No one refuted it. Because everyone felt sorry for a flower that hadn’t even had the chance to bloom before withering.
Alex Rivera looked at me. His voice was low and heavy. “Do you have any thoughts?”
I bit my lip. “No. I’m still investigating.”
“Still investigating.”
Five years had passed. From 2014 until now, five years had gone by. Five years of groping in the dark.
Suddenly, that name rang out: King Reed.
The sound from memory and reality suddenly overlapped. I startled out of my reverie and realized Alex Rivera was calling me.
I took a deep breath and looked at him. “Master, I’m a bit tired. I’ll go rest for a while.”
Alex Rivera stayed silent for a moment, then nodded. “Go ahead.”
After I left, someone grumbled discontentedly, “Team Leader, why did you let the kid rest while not letting us rest?”
Alex Rivera cursed straight out, “Rest your mother. He has been hunting this case longer than any of us.”
I and Emily Chen met at the end of 2012. At that time, we were both in tenth grade. She studied at a key school in the city, while I studied at a key school in the state.
The first time we met, I was going to buy bubble tea and happened to see her working part-time in the shop. The afternoon sunlight shone through the glass onto her face. At the age when one first knows the feeling of a crush, for some reason I liked her right away.
So I started coming to the bubble tea shop frequently, just to find opportunities to talk to her more.
Two months passed like that. But then one day when I went to the shop, she was no longer there. I asked the owner and learned that she had been reported for working while underage. The owner was very angry and gritted his teeth, saying, “I felt sorry for her, so I gave her a job. A kid with no support and no money—if she doesn’t work, how is she supposed to live? Yet some idle bastards think they’re righteous and report it as child labor. What kind of justice is that?”
I understood his anger wasn’t just because he lost an employee, but also because he had to pay a not-small fine.
After that, I asked around and found her school. After experiencing one loss, I didn’t want to repeat the mistake. At that time, I didn’t know where I got the courage from. But I was determined to pursue her.
With a beautiful girl like that, it was normal if it was a bit hard to pursue. But what surprised me was that she agreed to date me very quickly.
You are listening to *Gruesome Case 722*, broadcast on the Trần Thiên Minh YouTube channel.
But I wasn’t happy. Because a child lacking affection can have her heart filled with just a little love. Emily Chen was like that. That made me feel heartache. So I tried my best to treat her well. Gradually, she became more confident. I was very happy because of her. She had become more radiant.
But in love, conflicts are hard to avoid. Twelfth grade had too much academic pressure. Small matters were blown out of proportion. So we made a decision—a naive decision, but very fitting for that age. We decided to temporarily break up. A decision that most teenagers have experienced. But for me, it was a decision I would have to pay for with my whole life.
The next time I heard news about her was the news that she had died. It was only then that I learned she had a younger brother. In her final year of high school, her younger brother got sick, so she did everything to earn money. Yet I had never known.
I had once naively thought that everyone had a happy family.
Later, I became a police officer. I told myself that all of them must pay the price—the price they deserved to pay.
Seven years have passed. There has not been a single clue. It wasn’t because the killer hid too well, but because power can bury everything.
Perhaps I don’t even need evidence to make them pay. Because from the very beginning, they deserved to die.
I will kill them with my own hands.
Only one person left.
I looked toward the director’s office and tightened the gun at my waist.
I stepped forward.
The sound of gunfire broke the silence of the police station.
The first person to rush in was Alex Rivera.
Marcus Hale was being held tightly by the neck. The gun was pressed against his head.
“King Reed, what are you doing?”
Alex Rivera’s eyes were bloodshot. His voice roared hoarsely.
I laughed coldly. “What am I doing? Why don’t you ask this bastard what he did?”
Anger and tension screamed in my head, making me grip the gun tighter. I could feel Marcus Hale’s fear. This fear only added more courage to me.
Alex Rivera shouted, “No matter what he did, the law will punish him. King Reed, don’t forget—you are a police officer. He is also a police officer.”
I gritted my teeth and tightened my grip even more. More and more people rushed in, but the office wasn’t big enough. Some stood outside the hallway, looking in through the glass door.
I pressed Marcus Hale into the corner. I couldn’t let anyone have the chance to shoot me first.
“Confess what you did. If not, I’ll kill you right now.”
I whispered into his ear, my voice low and cold as ice.
Marcus Hale trembled like a leaf in a storm. “I… I don’t know what you want me to say.”
Bang.
I shot him in the leg. A pained scream echoed throughout the police station.
Alex Rivera hurriedly stepped forward, threw his own gun to Ethan Brooks, then slowly advanced toward me.
I raised the gun and fired a shot right at Alex Rivera’s feet.
“Don’t come any closer.”
He stopped, halting his steps.
I turned back to look at Marcus Hale. My voice pierced straight into his soul. “This is your last chance. If you still don’t speak—”
Bang.
I shot him in the other leg.
“I… I’ll confess. I’ll talk. That year, I lost a police gun. I was desperate and didn’t know what to do. They told me that if I helped them with one thing, everything would be resolved.”
“Who are ‘they’?”
Marcus Hale’s face was deathly pale. Cold sweat poured out like a bath.
“Help cover up evidence. Help their sons escape punishment. In return, they promised to help me get promoted. They also helped me get rid of Owen Vance.”
Speaking to this point, he glanced at Alex Rivera. Owen Vance was Alex Rivera’s master from that year.
The entire room fell silent.
Alex Rivera said nothing, only stared at me fixedly.
“Master, I took a deep breath. Open the third drawer on the right side of his desk.”
Alex Rivera didn’t hesitate. He walked straight to where I pointed. He opened the drawer and discovered a USB drive inside.
I clenched my fists. “Plug it into the TV.”
Alex Rivera did as I said. The TV screen flickered a few times, then a surveillance video appeared.
In the video, a girl was tied tightly to a chair. It seemed she had long lost consciousness. It looked like someone had deliberately blurred her face, as if they didn’t want others to see her tragic image. But the men in the video were extremely clear. They were exactly the ones who had been killed in the abandoned factory, along with the owner of Angel’s Bar, Ryan Park.
When they saw how they treated the girl, not a few police officers’ eyes turned red. “Beasts.”
Someone gritted their teeth and cursed.
Right at that moment, the door in the video opened. A person walked in with his back to the camera. But his voice rang out very clearly. The whole room fell deathly silent.
“Director Hale, why are you late?”
That was Ryan Park’s voice.
In the department, there was a party. I drank two glasses.
Marcus Hale’s voice sounded in the video, carrying the smell of alcohol. He looked up at the tied girl and gave a disgusting smile.
“Oh, little sister, this time you’re fresh. Wake her up. I don’t like playing with corpses.”
After he spoke, Ryan Park picked up a basin of cold water and splashed it straight onto the girl. He even slapped her hard a few times. The girl woke up and began screaming and crying for help.
“Save me! Police! Help!”
It was truly a bunch of beasts.
The girl’s words were suddenly cut off. Because she saw Marcus Hale taking off his belt.
Right after that, he pounced on the girl like a wild beast.
The whole room was left with only the lewd laughter of the group of men.
“Director Hale really plays rough, haha. As expected of Director Hale—classy.”
About ten minutes passed. Marcus Hale stood up and slapped the girl across the face.
“Damn it, she’s no different from a corpse.”
Ryan Park walked over, put his arm around his shoulder, and laughed. “Don’t be in a hurry, Director Hale. I have something fun here. Inject her with a shot and I guarantee she’ll be as happy as a slut.”
One of the three men who were later killed in the abandoned factory walked over, holding something in his hand—an injection syringe. He approached, blocking the girl from view. Only a few seconds later, her body began convulsing violently.
The group began to panic. Because after convulsing for a moment, she became completely still.
“Dead… she’s dead.”
Ryan Park’s voice was full of panic. Marcus Hale also sobered up from his drunken state.
One of them hurriedly made a phone call. But of course, they didn’t call the police and didn’t call for emergency help.
The video fast-forwarded. A moment later, the door opened again. A middle-aged man walked in. Seeing the scene before him, he stepped forward and slapped one of the young masters across the face, then kicked him to the ground, punching and kicking him fiercely.
“I already told you guys—when playing, you have to know restraint. The result is you killed someone.”
He beat him for a long time. It seemed he only stopped when he got tired. Then he walked in front of Marcus Hale, grabbed his hair, and slammed his head down onto the table.
“I raised you with all this money to watch over them, not to let something like this happen.”
Blood flowed down Marcus Hale’s face, but he didn’t dare resist and didn’t dare make a sound.
The middle-aged man took a deep breath and calmed down. He asked coldly, “Who is this girl?”
“A little orphan.”
“Then find somewhere to dump the body. As for the rest, let Marcus Hale handle it.”
Then he turned to look at Marcus Hale. “Give me your police gun.”
Marcus Hale froze. “I… I can’t lose my gun.”
The middle-aged man laughed mockingly. “Listen to me, and you won’t lose your gun. Otherwise, I’ll strip you.”
He took the gun and pointed it at the girl’s body, firing several shots. Then he threw the gun back to the young master who had just been beaten.
At that moment, he looked at Marcus Hale fixedly. “Now you and I are sitting in the same boat.”
The whole room fell silent. No one spoke.
On the video screen, it was still playing.
“I already gave you a chance.”
I pushed Marcus Hale away hard and pulled the trigger three times in a row. The bullets struck accurately into the police badge on his chest. He didn’t deserve it.
Marcus Hale fell to the ground and died on the spot.
Bang. Another gunshot sounded. It was from the special forces team outside the door. It seemed they didn’t intend to kill me immediately. The bullet only went through my right hand, which was holding the gun. But I didn’t stop. My left hand quickly drew the other gun from my waist. It was the police gun that Marcus Hale had lost years ago—the gun he had used to end Emily Chen’s life.
I raised the gun. The barrel pointed straight at Ethan Brooks, who was standing beside Alex Rivera.
Bang.
This time, the special forces shot straight into my head.
Everything sank into darkness.
From Alex Rivera’s perspective:
I looked up at the abandoned factory before me. Memories from seven years ago suddenly flooded back.
Time really flies. Seven years ago, I was just a young police officer. Now I have become the leader of the homicide team.
Four male bodies were laid neatly on the ground. Looking at the fixed positions at the scene, it was clear they hadn’t been arranged by us police, but by the killer himself in this way.
A bad premonition crept into my heart. Killers with high ritualistic tendencies are always the hardest to deal with. Because there are those who view killing as an art. Each corpse is a meticulously crafted piece.
Sure enough, during the subsequent investigation, we felt like we were treading in mud. Every clue that could advance the case had been erased by the killer. He had extremely sophisticated counter-investigation skills. He had even once worked within the police system.
Based on the available data, I proposed a very likely accurate inference: the killer is one of the victims from the case seven years ago, and he is seeking revenge.
After determining the direction of the investigation, I went to see my master. Because the case of Emily Chen from that year had been handled by him.
From what he recounted, I learned that Emily Chen had a younger brother. But both siblings had once lived in an illegal orphanage. They had no detailed records. The girl wasn’t even born in a hospital.
The case of Emily Chen had always been an unhealed wound in my master’s heart. It was also because of this case that he chose to retire.
“Damn it, Marcus Hale.”
I slammed my hand down on the table and roared, “I already said it ten thousand times—that day I was at home organizing a birthday party for my wife. The case was already a headache. Why did he have to stick his nose in?”
“King Reed, what the hell is he talking about? On July 13, how could he have been a nurse at the hospital? That whole day he was at home with me celebrating my birthday.”
“Do you know who the killer is? Or is he the killer himself?”
I began secretly investigating King Reed under my personal capacity.
I discovered he had a habit: after work, he often went to a café. I remembered this shop used to only sell bubble tea. Now it looked much more upscale.
I continued tailing him for a few days. Then I saw him arguing with a man. The other person wore a baseball cap and a mask, so his face couldn’t be seen clearly. Actually, King Reed was dressed exactly the same. But I was too familiar with him. Just by his posture, I could recognize him.
The other person suddenly pushed King Reed. He stepped back two steps, steadied himself, then immediately raised his knee and shoved the opponent to the ground. After that, King Reed stepped forward, grabbed the man’s collar, and shouted something. But I was standing too far away and couldn’t hear anything.
I began to guess who the person confronting King Reed that day was.
This morning, when Ethan Brooks submitted his report, I happened to notice a scratch on the palm of his hand. The intuition of a veteran police officer began connecting the image of him with the man in the baseball cap.
I went to find King Reed. I couldn’t let him go down the wrong path. I had always treated him like a son.
But when he heard me speak, he didn’t look surprised at all. He only shrugged and said calmly, “In the future, smoke less, Master.”
No matter how you heard it, this sentence sounded like a refusal.
I said angrily, “What the hell are you talking about?”
He smiled, then continued, “I am not the killer. I will tell you who the killer is.”
I frowned. “Speak.”
He looked at me. His voice was calm. “Can you promise me one thing?”
“I won’t promise.”
I had a feeling that as soon as I agreed, he would immediately die right in front of me.
But he didn’t care whether I agreed or not. He still spoke on his own. “Please protect a person. Watch her grow up.”
I was stunned. “Who is the killer?”
He smiled. “When the time comes, you will know on your own. And the person I want you to protect—you will also know when the time comes.”
I truly regretted not stopping him. Because now he was standing right in front of me. In his arms was the bastard Marcus Hale.
I admit Marcus Hale deserved to die. But I truly wished he would die in an accident—perhaps a gas leak or being hit by a truck—rather than being killed by the hand of the student I treated as a son.
At this moment, I was completely in despair. Everyone thought I was the person who understood him best. I was his master. I should be the one to negotiate with him. But precisely because I understood him, I knew no one could stop his determination to walk into death.
He forced me to play the video in the USB drive. The content inside was a complete, despairing record of a flower that hadn’t had the chance to bloom.
Then he pushed Marcus Hale away and pulled the trigger three times in a row. Each bullet struck accurately into the police badge on his chest. He didn’t deserve it.
Marcus Hale fell to the ground and died on the spot.
Bang. Another gunshot sounded. It was from the special forces team outside the door. It seemed they didn’t intend to kill me immediately. The bullet only went through my right hand, which was holding the gun. But I didn’t stop. My left hand quickly drew the other gun from my waist. It was the police gun that Marcus Hale had lost years ago—the gun he had used to end Emily Chen’s life.
I raised the gun. The barrel pointed straight at Ethan Brooks, who was standing beside Alex Rivera.
Bang.
This time, the special forces shot straight into my head.
Everything sank into darkness.
