Chapter 181: Cruelty Beyond Imagination

2022-05-20

Seeing our stunned faces, Guan Zengbin flexed her wrists and launched into a mini-lesson: “Among the feline species, house cats are just the right size to be tamed by humans without posing a deadly threat. The largest ones—like tigers and lions—could kill a person in seconds. And even the smaller kinds, like lynxes and servals, can take lives under certain circumstances.”

She waved her hand and went on, “Cats are even smaller, so a scratch or a bite will just leave you hurting—not dead. If they were much bigger, you probably wouldn’t stand a chance. Felines are usually solitary, quick to react, naturally wary and wildly curious.”

“Maybe it’s that untamable spirit that gives cats their mysterious charm,” Guan Zengbin added.

Zhang Qinrui nodded, then pointed gently at the two skulls. “All felines have barbs on their tongues. They use them to scrape meat clean off bones, which is why we’re looking at skulls picked this spotless. I’ve heard there were dozens of feral cats in there.”

While slipping off his gloves, Zhang Qinrui explained, “Wild cats are nothing like pets. Most of the time they’re scrounging for scraps, never knowing where their next meal will come from. When they stumble upon a feast like this, it’s not surprising they eat until they can’t move. Judging by how much is missing from the bodies, it checks out.”

“But,” Zhang Qinrui said, heading over to wash his hands, “feral cats and humans generally keep their distance. If you spot a cat and a dog in the street, call them over—chances are the dog will run up way more often than the cat. Anyway, I heard you ran into the killer down in that tunnel?”

I nodded. On our way back, I’d told a few people about it. I didn’t expect word to reach Zhang Qinrui so fast.

Scratching his head, Zhang Qinrui continued, “That’s where things get weird. If a person was present, all those wild cats had to be pretty used to them. That means our killer spends a lot of time among stray cats.”

He was right. Feral cats don’t usually trust people, especially ones living outdoors for years. But these cats didn’t shy away from the murderer at all. Suddenly, I remembered the missing woman boss.

Time. Time.

There was a common thread running through both stories. Suddenly, a new possibility occurred to me. Maybe the killer didn’t choose victims at random—maybe these were premeditated murders. In the first case, getting familiar with someone’s routine takes time. The killer had to plan for ages just to sneak into the victims’ home.

In the second case, winning over those feral cats would’ve taken time too. And, according to the story, these stray cats had shown up more than half a month ago. That means the killer was preparing for at least two weeks.

What’s more, only a few days separated the two stories. Their timelines overlapped. So, when the first crime took place, the killer was already out there with the strays. That suggests he had every detail mapped out—who he’d kill, how he’d do it, even when he’d strike.

This killer followed a strict plan. I should’ve realized—these crimes could never have been pulled off on a whim.

“I don’t think I’ll ever look at city stray cats the same way again,” Gu Chen muttered.

His comment made things awkward. None of us had ever thought about it like that. It was impossible to picture those adorable faces as animals feasting on corpses in the dark. Now that Gu Chen put it so bluntly, nobody really knew what to say.

Zhang Qinrui chimed in, “Honestly, I don’t see much difference. I always see pet dogs eat poop one moment and kiss their owner’s face the next…”

We were speechless.

Guan Zengbin cut in, “Let’s not dwell on it. Everything lives somewhere in the food chain. Either people eat animals or animals eat people. Humans dig into all kinds of meat every day, and nobody bats an eyelid. There’s still one body left. Let’s get through the autopsy before we get all sentimental.”

With that, Guan Zengbin started examining the little girl’s corpse. Zhang Qinrui pulled on gloves to help her.

Gu Chen and I stood quietly, looking down at the child’s body. A heavy sadness pressed on my chest. No matter the species, the death of the young always brings an unbearable grief.

Especially when it’s a little girl who died so horribly.

Guan Zengbin whispered, “Before we begin the autopsy, let’s see what these English letters mean.”

Just then, Zhang Qinrui gritted his teeth and spoke tightly, “Judging by the letters carved into her stomach, the wounds are fresh, and the flaps have a reddish color. That means—”

He suddenly stopped mid-sentence.

All eyes turned to Zhang Qinrui. Guan Zengbin said quietly, “It means the killer carved those letters while the girl was still alive.”

We all fell silent. Guan Zengbin had clearly noticed too, but hadn’t said it out loud before now. The girl’s stomach was covered in deep, messy English letters—jagged wounds where the skin had split apart. The pain must’ve been unbearable. Even a grown adult would suffer agony with their bones scraped like that, let alone a ten-year-old girl.

If the killer had even a shred of humanity, how could they torture a defenseless, innocent child like this?

“Let’s translate it,” I forced out, pushing aside a wave of helplessness and sorrow.

I couldn’t shake the regret that I hadn’t caught the killer in the tunnel. If another victim turns up, will it be someone even younger?

Guan Zengbin paused to think, then began translating: “Darkness endures through eternal night. Feral beasts devour souls. Washed of sin, swollen and vanished, finally scattered into oblivion. Tremble, you who still shiver in fear. The slaughter has begun.”

Just like last time, these twisted cryptic words made no sense at first glance. The killer’s intentions were shrouded in mystery. Maybe there was a purpose behind leaving such phrases—but was it aimed at us or just some personal message left behind?

I nodded. The autopsy began.

The whole room was silent except for the soft tap of the scalpel, the snip of scissors, the slicing of muscle, and the sound of our breathing. As we watched a little girl laid out like this, there was nothing left to say.

She might’ve had a special talent for piano—maybe one day a piano prodigy, or even a world-famous star. But now, she was just a lifeless body. Every bright possibility ripped away. Just a body on a slab.

An hour later, Guan Zengbin announced, “Estimated time of death: today at about 4:30 in the afternoon. Cause of death: a dagger driven diagonally into the back of her neck, severing the main artery. She died in under two minutes.”

Guan Zengbin went on, “After she died, the killer looped a fishing line around her neck and slowly strangled her.”

My skin crawled at the details. But why didn’t the killer go after me?

I frowned, staying silent.

Guan Zengbin finished, “That’s all. The girl’s body was perfectly healthy… What a waste.”

The final step for the pathologist was to return the organs to their proper place and stitch the body back together. We watched her being taken apart, then pieced together again. It felt like witnessing her whole short life flash by—reduced to a single autopsy and a few stitches.

Guan Zengbin covered the little girl with a white sheet. “After this case closes, the whole family can be cremated. Maybe then they’ll finally find peace.”

I turned to the others. “Let’s go check the basics. I’m convinced these aren’t random killings—there’s some method behind the choice of victims.”

“Which means,” I said, determined, “we need to find the connection between them.”