The security guard listened to my deductions and admitted he was indeed late this morning, with panic written all over his face. He didn’t think too much about his colleague, Mr. Wang’s absence since he assumed he had already left.

I scanned the room with Cave Vision and noticed a few clues. Outside the security room, I found a glove in the grass beside the road, and the matching one slightly further away.

We followed this lead until we reached a construction site.

At the sight of a large group of policemen, the man in charge came forth and asked what had happened. "A man wearing a security uniform might have entered the site last night,” I explained. “Was there anyone on duty here?"

The foreman was just about to call someone when anxious shouts suddenly interrupted him. "There’s a man in the mixer!" exclaimed one of the workers.

We walked over, only to be greeted by the sight of a man submerged in the cement slurry, the security uniform still faintly visible under the grey mess. Unaware of the body, the workers had poured stones and cement into the mixer, allowing the machine to run for a while before it was jammed. Only upon inspection did they discover the body.

It took substantial effort to remove the body from the mixer. Even with careful handling, the body was already torn to pieces beyond recognition, frightening many workers. "Don't be afraid,” I assured them. “I know it’s got nothing to do with you!"

The current circumstances made it impossible for us to transport the corpses back to the station for examination, though it wasn’t necessary at all with my skills. I connected a water pipe and flushed the cement off the body before beginning the autopsy. Judging from the fatal wound, the security guard had committed suicide by slitting his throat with a sharp stone.

The opacity of the pupils suggested that the time of death was less than six hours ago. I stared at the corpse in a daze as a vague suspicion arose in my mind.

"Song Yang, is there something wrong with the corpse?" asked Xiaotao.

"His body itself is suspicious,” I surmised. “There was no need for Long Bangguo to kill him."

"Contrary to that, I believe it’s necessary!” argued Xiaotao. “He had to kill the security guard to enter the building."

I had previously observed the residential area and noticed that the surrounding walls weren’t high. Additionally, the bottom of the wall was decorated with flower beds so all Long Bangguo had to do was exert a little strength to flip himself over to the other side. Long Bangguo’s real motive behind murdering the security guard was to enter the security room and destroy the surveillance records.

After all, he had been a policeman himself so he knew merely deleting the files was useless. Hence, the thorough removal of all the hard disks.

But why?

He disclosed his identity to us last night and we already knew it was him before that. Was he thinking of hiding his face? Could some important information be revealed by his appearance?

"Could it be that he got plastic surgery?" speculated Xiaotao.

"When was he released?" I asked.

"According to his sentence, around last week,” she replied.

"That’s out of the question then. The recovery process after cosmetic surgery takes some time,” I remarked. “Besides, he’s a newly released ex-convict. Does he even have the money to get cosmetic surgery? The other thing is, he’s been in prison for the last twenty years, during which Nanjiang City underwent tremendous change. Yet his actions show familiarity with the city. I can’t help but think there’s something strange about that!"

I don't know what it was yet, but my intuition told me whatever it was would be an important breakthrough in the case.

The body was handed over to the police for disposal. Since there wasn’t any need for further examination, it was sent directly to the funeral home for cremation. I proposed we return to the residential area where I continued wandering about, though I found no useful clues.

Some time later, a police car came along with Director-General Zheng, Officer Xun and Officer Luo. Upon greeting them, Xiaotao said, "Director-General Cheng, the three of you are murder targets. Why are you still swaggering out to handle the case?"

"We came out as bait," Director-General Cheng flat out replied.

"Bait?" Xiaotao arched an eyebrow.

I explained my plan to Xiaotao. In fact, I had taken the time to call Director-General Cheng and the others over. Long Bangguo's overwhelming desire for revenge meant that he would continue to kill all the family members of the triad involved back then. The police were inevitably one step behind the murderer. He was likely to draw the force away from the base and sneak an attack at the city bureau.

Rather than this, the three officers could come with us and lure Long Bangguo out of the shadows to carry out his revenge and allow him to "succeed."

“It’s too risky,” Xiaotao shook her head.

"The enemy remains hidden while we’re out in the open,” I sighed. “It’s a risk we have to take."

Director-General Cheng took out the gun from his holster. It looked exactly like the real one, down to the last detail, even the serial number. "This is a prop gun that the technical department designed. When the bullet hits the body, there will be blood. We’ll act out our suicides for Long Bangguo to see."

"There’s something I’d like to ask,” I started. “When was the last time you saw Long Bangguo?"

The three men exchanged meaningful glances. "Twenty years ago!" announced Director-General Cheng.

"You mean, you haven't visited him in 20 years?" I asked in surprise.

Director-General Cheng rolled up his sleeves and showed me an old scar on his arm. "The last time I visited him, he tried to kill me with a sharpened toothbrush,” he said. “After that, he was denied visitation rights."

"Do you know how horrible it is when an officer is sent to prison?” asked Officer Xun. “The other prisoners will torture him using all methods possible. I heard that it only took him one month inside to collapse physically and mentally. It’s only natural he transferred all the hatred onto us..."

I couldn't help but wonder. Is this avenger really Long Bangguo?

Right then, Director-General Cheng's phone rang. Upon answering the call, he turned to us and said, "I’ve got bad news. There’s been more victims."

This time the incident happened in a warehouse in the suburbs. Someone heard gunshots at about 5 am and called the police, after which the officers from the nearby precinct rushed over to the scene where they found the bodies of the local triad members in the area. But their deaths were rather bizarre–the guns that killed them were all their own! Drugs and cash were found at the scene which suggested that the gang was dealing drugs late last night when they suddenly swallowed their gun muzzles and committed suicide as if possessed.

When we arrived at the scene, the place had already been cordoned off. More than a dozen people were dead, but this time the crime scene was even bloodier than the last. The ground was littered with the bodies of gang members with their guns still in their mouths. The impact of the bullets blew through the back of their skulls, splattering blood and brain matter all over the floor.

Director-General Cheng asked the officers from the precinct to return to the station while we dealt with the case.

I noticed there were several gangsters in their forties and fifties, possibly underlings from the gang back in those days who were now all big shots. Fortunately, innocent people weren’t involved this time.

I noticed some broken glass fragments that had fallen from the skylight at the bottom of the wall. More than one of the skylights were broken.

"Can the sound of gunshots break glass?" I asked.

She looked around and contemplated for a moment, "The warehouse is rather empty. Soundwaves bounce back and forth, so it’s possible."

In an obscure corner, I picked up a bloody handkerchief and sniffed, "The blood was left by the murderer."

"What makes you say so?" asked Xiaotao.

"The blood is thick and viscous. This contains gastric acid and saliva,” I remarked. “The murderer coughed out blood!"

But the question was–why? Was he ill? Following this line of thought, an idea suddenly struck me. Perhaps the murderer wasn’t affected by the music because he was deaf!

I was just about to speak up when a plaintive and melancholic tune reverberated through the warehouse, assaulting our ears like sharp thorns. It turned out the murderer had deliberately led us here to kill us all!