Chapter 46 Another One Dead

Chi Yun waved her hand, signaling her subordinates to take both suspects away. Then she walked up to me and asked in a low voice, “Is there a problem?”

“There’s something off. Have people cordon off the entire lake with rope and make sure no one gets close,” I replied, my mind still turning over the impression of that footprint. If it were a ghost, perhaps the chill of the spirit body could condense into droplets of water, but that slippery, viscous residue should never be present.

I stood by the window of an interrogation observation room at the police station, holding a cup of coffee as I gazed into the night outside. The observation room had a one-way mirror, allowing a clear view of the proceedings inside the adjacent interrogation room.

Just then, Chi Yun entered and came to stand beside me. “The deceased student is named Liu Juan. The suspect, Liu Zhenhui, is from her hometown and has been pursuing her since high school. But later, Liu Juan chose the boy who rushed over—his name is Liao Zhigao. According to Liu Juan’s roommate, tonight Liu Zhenhui asked Liu Juan out to settle things once and for all.”

I nodded. Indeed, all the hallmarks of a crime of passion were present—unrequited love leading to murderous rage.

“Have you checked on Ye Wen?” I asked.

“Yes, we did. Ye Wen was Liu Juan’s best friend. She was found drowned in the Baoshun River near the medical college half a year ago. The police received a report at the time, but after investigation, it was ruled an accidental death,” Chi Yun replied.

“Have someone interrogate them, focus on Ye Wen’s case,” I instructed.

Inside the interrogation room, Liu Zhenhui, still covered in blood, was shackled to the chair, his expression terrified and restless. He kept glancing around, looking as if he’d been scared out of his wits.

At that moment, the door opened and two police officers walked in.

“She’s back… she’s really back…” Liu Zhenhui stammered, trembling.

Bang! A middle-aged policeman slammed the table and barked, “Cut the act. Answer my questions honestly and you’ll get leniency. Resist, and it’ll be worse for you. Name?”

“She’s back, she’s back, I’m dead…” Liu Zhenhui muttered, lost in his own world.

“Not just me, they’re all going to die, all of them, hahaha!” His face twisted into a manic grin, laughter turning hysterical.

I frowned. “Forget it, this guy’s lost his mind. Even if we get something out of him, it won’t count.”

“Then we’ll have to try Liao Zhigao,” Chi Yun agreed.

But Liao Zhigao insisted Ye Wen’s death was accidental, that she slipped and drowned. Any other questions, he evaded, directing everything back to Liu Zhenhui killing Liu Juan. When pressed, he threatened to file a complaint, saying he wasn’t a suspect—his girlfriend had just died, and he was only cooperating with the investigation.

“Let him go,” I told Chi Yun.

She nodded and ordered for Liao Zhigao’s release.

By the time all this was over, it was already one in the morning.

I tailed Liao Zhigao back to Linjiang Medical College. His dorm was in the west wing, which meant passing by the lake where the incident occurred.

I observed him taking a detour, making a wide circle before returning to his dorm.

After making sure he’d gone in, I headed to the scene of the crime and took out my compass. The needle quivered slightly, indicating faint fluctuations in the magnetic field.

I pricked my finger and let a drop of my blood fall onto the compass, activating a thorough search. If there was any spirit or monster in the lake, the Netherworld Compass would not fail to detect it.

Yet the result was disappointing. The lake was calm—nothing unusual.

I was about to leave when a faint scent of sandalwood drifted on the breeze.

Following the scent, I found three sticks of incense, burned down to their ends, stuck upright in the grass nearby. The ashes around them were a deep blue-black, quite unusual.

“This doesn’t seem like ordinary incense.” I took out an evidence bag, collected the remnants and some of the ashes, planning to have Zhao Zheng look into it.

…

Returning to the Third Unit’s headquarters, I found only Zhao Zheng and Ye Luo present; Chen Ying’en, Ghost, and Niu Dali had all gone to Huaiyun City to handle a special case.

“Qin, have some coffee,” Ye Luo greeted me warmly, handing over a cup.

“Thanks.” I accepted it, noticing Ye Luo still standing there, her big, bright eyes fixed on me.

I caught on and smiled. “You’re being extra nice—what do you want?”

“Qin, could you use your account to send me a message? Just say, ‘Ye Luo is a super adorable, beautiful, and kind girl’—please?” she pleaded, moving behind me to massage my shoulders.

I was bewildered. “Wait, what message?”

“Using your ‘Handsomest in the World’ account,” Ye Luo clarified.

At that, Zhao Zheng adjusted his black-rimmed glasses and explained, “The ‘Handsomest in the World’ account is legendary on the forum. It appeared over a decade ago and became famous for pulling off incredible feats.”

Was that so?

I quickly pulled out my phone and opened the Ninth Bureau’s app forum. Sure enough, ‘Handsomest in the World’ was dominating the boards.

Scrolling through page after page, I gained a rough understanding.

Fifteen years ago, ‘Handsomest in the World’ appeared out of nowhere. He never teamed up with anyone and never showed his face—no one in the Ninth Bureau knew what he looked like.

As a level-one member, he once took on six level-three missions and one level-four mission at once, and completed them all flawlessly. After ascending to level three, he handled only level-six missions and succeeded every time.

He posted three photos that caused a sensation at the time: one of a pyramid made of demon heads, another of a neighboring princess asleep in spring, and the third—a true scandal—was a candid shot of the most beautiful woman in the Ninth Bureau, now Deputy Director Xia Hua, fresh out of the bath (with everything below the neck pixelated).

Rumor had it that Director Xia swore to skin him alive for that, and the uproar lasted a long time. Few knew what really happened between them.

After that, ‘Handsomest in the World’ disappeared, never to return. Most believe he died in the line of duty.

Reading all this, I couldn’t help cursing Old Fox Zhou under my breath for his mischief.

Still, I deeply admired ‘Handsomest in the World’—the guy was absolutely legendary. But I resolved never to reveal my identity; he’d stirred up way too much trouble, and I wasn’t about to take the blame.

Thankfully, although I was registered with the Third Unit, my name didn’t show up on the app. Only Director Zhou and a few people in the Third Unit were aware.

“Ye Luo, drop it. No one must ever know I’m using the ‘Handsomest in the World’ account,” I told her.

“Qin…” She pouted, trying to act cute.

I patted her head. “Not happening.”

I went to Zhao Zheng and placed the evidence bag with the incense and ashes in front of him. “Zhao, check this for me, see if you can identify what kind of incense it is.”

Zhao Zheng nodded and began searching the database.

Soon, he spoke. “Found it. Based on the residue and the color of the ashes, it’s likely a type of Spirit Incense used to feed ghosts—a technique from the ancient Incense Master Sect. Very rare these days.”

The Incense Master Sect was a branch of the onmyoji tradition, using incense to channel spirits and communicate with the supernatural. The Soul-Gathering Incense I’d used before actually originated from that school.

“Feeding ghosts, huh?” I frowned. It seemed this case was indeed more likely the result of human malice.

Just then, my phone rang. It was Chi Yun.

“Qin Feng, something’s happened. Liao Zhigao is dead,” she said urgently.

“He’s dead? How?”

“He… he drowned himself,” she replied.

“He jumped into the lake?”

“No, he drowned himself in his dorm using a washbasin,” Chi Yun said, still incredulous.

Could a washbasin drown someone? People have a survival instinct. Unless he lost all consciousness and buried his face in the water involuntarily, it’s nearly impossible for someone to drown themselves in a basin.

I rushed to the men’s dormitory at Linjiang Medical College. In the washroom of Liao Zhigao’s dorm, I found him slumped over a full basin of water, lifeless.

I lifted his head and saw his eyes wide open, the pupils already ashen gray, his face contorted in agony—he must have suffered terribly before death.

Then I noticed five pitch-black fingerprints on the back of his neck.

“What do you think?” Chi Yun asked in a low voice.

“Just as you thought. What did his roommates say?” I asked.

“They said Liao Zhigao came back late. They only heard him come in, then went to sleep. When they woke up in the morning, they found him drowned in the basin and called the police,” Chi Yun replied.

I remembered what Liu Zhenhui had said—Ye Wen had returned, he would die, and they would all die.

My eyes narrowed. “They”? Who else?

Liu Juan was already dead. If he meant only Liao Zhigao, why say “they”?

Liao Zhigao’s body, covered with a white sheet, was carried out as crowds of students gathered below.

Suddenly, the two men carrying the body stumbled, and Liao Zhigao’s corpse tumbled out, his horrific death mask revealed to all.

A chorus of screams erupted.

From above, I scanned the students’ faces like a hawk.

I noticed two in particular: one, a petite girl with ear-length hair, frail as if still in middle school; the other, a stylishly dressed girl with dyed brown hair.

The petite girl blended into the crowd, but her composure was unnatural.

The brown-haired girl, on the other hand, was trembling not from horror at the corpse, but from something deeper—her face was ghostly pale, and her fingernails nearly pierced her palms.

“Did you get pictures of those two?” I asked a policeman with a telephoto camera.

“Yes, all taken,” he replied.

“Check their identities,” I said, exhaling a smoke ring. In my mind, the outline of the truth was taking shape.