My words were soft, yet articulated with such precision that she could not possibly have missed them. The final syllable, in particular, carried the full weight of my rage and sorrow.

Zhang Hemai’s body shuddered again, and then she looked at me with stark terror.

I met her gaze, then used my voice to cut through the ethereal music and the lights, striking directly against her eardrums: “So, I want to know, in that story, where is the woman’s head?”

Zhang Hemai finally broke. She let out a sudden, sharp cry, and everyone turned to look. Zhao Shiya rushed over anxiously.

“What’s wrong?” Zhao Shiya recognized the abnormality immediately, dropping her usual playful demeanor.

I remained silent, as did Zhang Hemai; she still looked horrified, like a wounded fledgling. But I knew this bird could transform at any moment into a monster beyond imagination.

“What is going on?” Zhao Shiya pressed urgently.

Seeing neither of us speak, Zhao Shiya took hold of us. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

Zhang Hemai stood up, but I spoke coldly, “Please answer me. Where exactly is the head?”

Zhao Shiya’s face changed, and she pulled me aside. “What nonsense are you talking, Officer Wang? You’ve had too much to drink; go sit inside for a bit.”

Zhang Hemai suddenly covered her face and hurried into the deeper recesses of the bar, and I had no choice but to follow. Zhao Shiya walked beside us, murmuring, “What is going on between you two? We all came here to have fun; there’s no need for this.”

“You don’t need to concern yourself with this. If you wish, you can sit and listen.”

Inside was Zhao Shiya’s usual private resting area, decorated warmly. When I entered, Zhang Hemai was sitting by the bed, staring blankly, her expression as if she had just endured something terrifying. Yet, I knew that terror was not something she had experienced herself.

“Officer Wang, did Hemai do something wrong?” Zhao Shiya asked, sitting next to Zhang Hemai on the edge of the bed.

“No, I just wanted to ask her a question.”

“Hemai, if you know something, just say it. Officer Wang is the police; you don’t need to be afraid of anything you say.”

At this, Zhang Hemai suddenly looked up, her expression utterly exhausted. She said slowly, “Officer Wang, I know you might suspect me right now, but I truly know nothing.”

I dared not believe this woman, yet from beginning to end, she hadn't actually presented any real evidence of guilt. The only anomaly was that story, so I had to press on to the absolute end.

“Then why did you tell that story? Why did the woman in the story have no head, and why did You Qiaolin hide my girlfriend’s head?”

Zhao Shiya, listening from the side, had her eyes wide open and was frozen in place.

“You Qiaolin told that story; I only repeated it. I had absolutely no idea he meant that, it’s terrifying.” As she spoke, Zhang Hemai’s body trembled incessantly.

Suddenly she shrieked, “I really don’t know anything!” and then she lunged, clinging to Zhao Shiya, sobbing uncontrollably.

My mind suddenly stalled. This wasn't an act; she truly didn’t know. And her explanation was perfectly logical. Aside from You Qiaolin, who else could have told that story?

You Qiaolin had planned everything in advance, including decapitating Xiao Xuan, and then fabricating a story to incorporate that exact detail. This perfectly explained why the story's plot so eerily matched reality, and it also affirmed the logical deduction that You Qiaolin could not have directly confessed his crime to Zhang Hemai.

He had merely told this deeply interwoven story to Zhang Hemai, who then relayed it to me. Zhang Hemai was merely a conduit; she was innocent.

But then, why would Zhang Hemai tell that story in the first place?

I was stumped again. Although I am not inclined to assume the worst, logic, after all, has no morality—only coherence.

The fact that Zhang Hemai told me this story the very first time we met was inherently illogical. However, I couldn't entirely rule out coincidence; perhaps that day she simply had an inexplicable urge to tell it—a matter even God couldn't sort out.

But I couldn't let her off the hook. I had to dig deeper. Even for something God couldn't resolve, I had to find a way until every facet was laid bare and undeniable.

“Why did you tell that story?”

My resolve clearly outstripped my intelligence, making my question seem ridiculous and tyrannical in the face of her seemingly insurmountable situation.

Yet, Zhang Hemai answered truthfully: “Because you are a police officer, I thought of telling you something related to the case.”

An absurd query, met with a flawless reply.

I fell into deep thought. The intricate complexity of the entire affair had surpassed the limits of my intellect. I racked my brain, searching for the critical link.

Zhao Shiya interjected gently, “Officer Wang, Hemai and I are good friends. I know she would never do anything bad.”

I had no intention of backing down yet, so I replied coldly, “Before his downfall, I also considered You Qiaolin a good man—a very good one at that.”

Zhao Shiya shot me a sharp look and ignored me.

Zhang Hemai said, “Officer Wang, I truly never imagined you would suffer such great harm. All I can say is I am sorry.”

I offered no affirmation or denial. At this moment, I trusted no one, no word. I only wanted to find Xiao Xuan’s head. But my own limitations brought me shame; I always seemed to hover outside divine intervention, sinking into confusion.

I sighed and said, “You are right. I was being suspicious.” At this point, I could only retreat temporarily and wait for the next opportunity to strike.

Zhang Hemai visibly relaxed. She steadied herself against the headboard and looked at me wistfully, then said, “I want to visit her grave.”

That single sentence caused the walls around my heart to crumble rapidly, because anyone who respects the dead must also respect life. In that moment, I dismissed nearly all my doubts about Zhang Hemai, though I still needed to pass this final test to confirm the truth.

When I finally left Lan Guiren, it was already late, nearly 1:00 PM. Though I hadn't eaten, I didn't feel hungry. As I walked toward the police car, a taxi sped past dangerously close, nearly hitting me.

Watching the receding taxi, I suddenly felt a connection to something, and I struggled in thought until, finally, it clicked.

I remembered I had taken a taxi to Lan Guiren that day, and that was where I met Zhang Hemai. Following my previous analysis, if You Qiaolin had intentionally arranged for me to meet Zhang Hemai at Lan Guiren, he must have found that specific cab driver. If the driver could prove someone had instructed him to take me there, it would confirm a prior arrangement between Zhang Hemai and You Qiaolin—or perhaps he had notified Zhang Hemai only after I got in the car.

The logic was simple: if Zhang Hemai were innocent, she couldn't have known I was going to Lan Guiren that day, nor could she have known I would take a taxi, let alone sit there waiting for me. And that story would never have reached my ears.

However, You Qiaolin knew Zhang Hemai’s habits intimately; he might have known she frequented Lan Guiren to drink when idle, so he dragged me—the blind cat—there, and I happened to run into Zhang Hemai—the dead mouse. That was also plausible. And if so, this possibility entirely removed Zhang Hemai from the game, making her an outsider.

Zhang Hemai, what kind of woman are you???

It seemed I absolutely needed to pay You Qiaolin a visit. I wondered if the bastard’s body had recovered at all by now?

Just then, Xiao Cuo called. “Brother Lei, what are you doing?”

“Is it important?” I was agitated and in no mood for idle chatter.

“It’s a small thing, but can you come over here?”

“What is it? Be clear, I’m busy.”

“I found something abnormal over here and I’m afraid I can’t handle it alone, so I need your help.”

I knew he was investigating the 'Grim Reaper' case. What he deemed abnormal must relate to that. And if he couldn't handle it, major trouble could erupt. So, I quickly confirmed the address, instructed him not to make a move until I arrived, and sped off in my car.

When I met Xiao Cuo, he was standing alone on the street. If he hadn’t been in uniform, I would have mistaken him for some creepy neighborhood lurker.

Squealing to a stop, Xiao Cuo agilely slipped inside and pointed behind us. “That direction.”

I maneuvered the car around a corner and finally asked, “What exactly is the matter?”

“I just got a call from Director Jiang—the priest at the church has been murdered!”

My hand twitched. “What happened?”

“I don’t know the details, but we’ve been to that church. That place is awfully sinister.”

“Oh, so you got scared and called me for courage.”

“Because I’ve never dealt with foreign phantoms before, and I don’t know how deep they run.”

“Go to hell with your foreign phantoms. This could just be a setup by criminals, making us think it was supernatural to throw us off the trail.”

Ever since I learned about the various grinding methods used on the bones from forensic expert Lin Shuqing, I had begun to doubt cases attributed to ghosts. But since I hadn't received word from the stone quarry yet, I couldn't draw a final conclusion.

“I hope so. Who wants to deal with that kind of thing?”

As I spoke, I mused: Why was the priest murdered? Perhaps because we found that location, and he knew something, leading to his silencing? Or maybe because after seeing us, he observed something later and was consequently killed?

Either scenario was bad news, as it indirectly proved the case was connected to the 'Grim Reaper.'

The moment I thought of that tall, eerie church, I felt physically ill and entertained thoughts of retreating. If it truly involved the 'Grim Reaper,' what business did a mere mortal like me have getting involved?

“Xiao Cuo, I think we should request the bureau send a Taoist master,” I said very seriously.

“Stop joking. With my current gear, I wouldn’t dare report it to the bureau. If they found out, they’d confiscate it all.”

“Hmph. You think the bureau doesn't know about your little trinkets? That’s why they labeled it a mysterious case—to use your stuff. They pretend not to know so that if something goes wrong, they can just wash their hands of it.”

Xiao Cuo looked momentarily stunned. “Really? Then what should I do?”

I saw that this guy was genuinely naive; after all this time, he hadn't grasped something so simple. I figured Chinese ghosts must have low IQs, or this kid would have been toyed to death long ago.

“Do what you must do. Don’t overthink anything else. If you truly run into something, subdue it if you can, but preserving your life is paramount.”

“Yes, yes, thank you for the guidance, Brother Lei!”

The police siren wailed as we arrived at the church. Already sparsely populated, the church now felt even more desolate due to the murder, like a medieval castle amidst a bustling city.

The crime scene investigation team had already arrived. After flashing our credentials, Xiao Cuo and I entered.

The victim was the same priest we had encountered that day. He was dead in his own room, but not in a bizarre way; a ten-centimeter stiletto plunged into his back had prematurely introduced him to God.

The blade was positioned perfectly, piercing the gap between his shoulder blades and driving straight into the priest’s fragile heart. Due to the rupture, blood seeped from his eyes, nose, and mouth.

The body lay prone across the desk, stabbed at least thirty times. Wounds of varying sizes riddled his body. The elderly man didn't have much blood to begin with, and thirty-plus punctures had drained it onto the floor, where the pooling blood was a dark crimson, not as bright as that of a young man, as if symbolizing life’s endpoint was near, only he hadn't reached it himself but had been forcibly escorted there by brutal stabbing.

The entire room was orderly; nothing was disturbed, suggesting the victim offered no final struggle. Yet, beneath this calm lay a more brutal ruthlessness, as the assailant was likely someone the priest trusted, otherwise, they couldn't have slipped into the room silently to launch an attack.

Forensic doctor Lin Shuqing pointed to the dense cluster of wounds. “None of these were fatal. The killer seemed intent only on wounding him; only the final thrust was meant to kill.”

“If that’s the case, the priest should have screamed before he died. Why didn’t anyone hear it?”

Lin Shuqing gently turned the body’s head. I leaned closer and saw that the priest’s mouth was stuffed with a floor rag—and the rag was so large it had stretched his mouth until it split.

The torn corners of his mouth were raw and bleeding, stretched open rather than cut, revealing bluish-white sinews.

I couldn't imagine the intense pain when a person's mouth is forced open like that, especially an elderly man subjected to such savage brutality. This was beyond what a human could commit!

A sharp pain pierced my chest, and my own lips ached as if they were the ones being torn apart.

Lin Shuqing sighed softly and let the priest’s head fall back into place.

“Any findings?” My voice was soft, but the tone was heavy. Faced with such brutal acts, I had to seek justice for the deceased.

“None,” Lin Shuqing replied quickly and decisively, indicating the scene was immaculately clean.

A shock went through me. In the 'Grim Reaper' cases, besides the method of death, another characteristic was the utter lack of traces left at the scene. Although the victim’s body remained here, this case also offered no evidence. Was this a coincidence, or…?

I frowned deeply. Xiao Cuo carefully circled the room once, then looked at me with a bewildered expression. Knowing he had found nothing, I said, “Let’s go check the attic on the roof.”

Although I dreaded going to that terrifying place again, for the sake of that body subjected to inhuman abuse, I had to. Otherwise, I didn't deserve the uniform I wore.

Hearing this, Xiao Cuo perked up. We left the priest's room and headed for the top floor.

Reaching the roof, I looked up at the wooden hatch door, resting silently, severing my connection to whatever lay above.

What secrets were hidden up there?