Chapter 140: Trial and Adaptation

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I asked the officers if they had found the crime scene, but they all shook their heads. After inspecting the scene, I stepped outside to find Lu, the hefty cop, squatting and smoking while on the phone. Approaching quietly from behind, I realized he was talking to his wife. Between sweet nothings, he complained about the police’s slow progress—they still hadn’t finished examining the scene.

Noticing me, Lu quickly ended the call and asked if I had any observations. I nodded and shared my first theory: there were two perpetrators. It was a simple deduction. Judging from the vomit at the scene, it seemed one direct culprit forced an accomplice to sexually abuse the corpse and then compelled him to eat the flesh—an act of brutal domination and blood sacrifice.

The direct culprit took perverse pleasure in the crime, while the accomplice was repulsed, hence the vomiting. Lu nodded thoughtfully, agreeing it made sense. But I quickly added that while possible, this scenario was unlikely.

That’s because the vomit appeared freshly expelled, without the usual signs of retching. If forced, the accomplice wouldn’t have adapted so quickly—after all, consuming human flesh is fundamentally abhorrent.

I explained to Lu that this was a kind of premonitory message. He was momentarily stunned. “Kid, ‘premonitory message’ isn’t just a generic term; it’s insider lingo in investigations. I’m starting to think there’s more to you than meets the eye.”

I didn’t reply. Lu urged me to elaborate on what message the culprit might be sending through that expelled mouthful.

“The killer is likely preparing himself. He’s readying to eat live humans,” I said.

Lu’s face registered surprise but quickly settled back to its usual stoicism.

My theory wasn’t based solely on the perpetrator’s psychological challenge to the justice system. Compared to the previous crime scene, this time the meat in the pot wasn’t rotten. In other words, the killer hadn’t cooked the flesh thoroughly.

The less cooked the meat, the closer it is to raw human tissue. I didn’t believe the killer was simply experimenting with different flavors by undercooking the meat. Although it sounded strange coming from me, it seemed perfectly logical when applied to the mind of a murderer.

If the killer merely enjoyed defiling and eating corpses, he would have treated it like a lavish feast, adding spices and seasoning. He certainly had time to prepare, yet the pot contained only plain water and human flesh—nothing else.

Lu gave a wry, disgusted smile. “Or maybe the killer just doesn’t care about the taste.”

I shrugged. “That’s possible, but the police must stay vigilant. I believe the recent grave robberies are the killer’s way of slowly acclimating himself, preparing to sexually assault and cannibalize live victims. There’s still one body missing.”

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I told Lu that if my guess was correct, the last missing corpse belonged to a recently deceased woman, whose crime scene would soon be found. Next time, the meat in the pot would be even less cooked, nearly raw.

Lu considered this and agreed it was dangerous. He immediately alerted authorities to warn especially female citizens to stay alert.

After Lu hung up, I shared my final theory: the killer was likely impoverished.

Lu asked how I could tell. I pointed to the makeshift hut and the battered pot inside, as well as the similarly dilapidated pot found at the previous scene. Neither appeared newly purchased; they were probably scavenged or leftover household items.

Lu countered that maybe the killer avoided appearing in public to buy pots.

I shook my head. “Buying a pot in the market is normal and leaves no trace. The killer enjoys this process. Most people wouldn’t skimp even on eating utensils. Plus, did you notice? Neither crime scene had the murder weapon.”

The pots might be scrap metal, but knives used to cut flesh, although not new, must be sharp. The killer could have picked up a pot from the trash, but a discarded knife wouldn’t cut through flesh. Twice, the perpetrator neglected to clean the scene but always took the cutting instrument. That’s odd.

Putting this all together, I believed the killer was so destitute he couldn’t afford new pots or knives. He might have just enough money for a few meals. That explained why, at this gruesome feast, he used a worn pot and kept the knife for future use.

“Can’t even afford a knife and pot?” Lu scoffed, “How poor is he?”

“Nothing’s impossible. If I’m right, the killer is likely a long-starving, emaciated person,” I said. “This is just my theory—I don’t know how accurate it is, but I hope it helps.”

Lu frowned thoughtfully for a moment, then nodded.

By then, the police had finished processing the scene. Back at the station, I brought Wang Yazhuo and the kid along. Wang wasn’t interested in the case; she only asked if Lu was pretending to be clueless or genuinely slow. I shook my head uncertainly—when I shared my theories earlier, Lu seemed a bit overwhelmed.

After washing up, Wang lay on the bed. I didn’t know what came over the kid, but she suddenly insisted on sleeping by the bed’s edge, not the middle. Wang looked embarrassed, but the kid refused to budge. It was late, so I gave up my spot to them—but the kid made a bigger fuss.

Finally, Wang glanced at me shyly and told me to get in bed. Honestly, I didn’t mind—I had no feelings for Wang, and the kid was with us. Wang clearly felt differently.

The kid nestled into Wang’s arms, while I lay close beside her, hearing Wang’s uneasy breaths. Fortunately, the bed was large enough that a space remained between us.

Thus passed the night. The next morning, I woke to find Wang facing me, very close. Unlike other women in their twenties, Wang never wore makeup, yet she seemed to possess a certain purity.

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Wang’s short hair fell playfully across her forehead. Before I could turn around, the kid suddenly cried out. Wang’s eyes snapped open. Our gazes met, and in an instant, she leapt from the bed and asked what I was doing.

She grabbed the blanket, looking as if I had disturbed her, while the kid laughed—clearly she had woken Wang on purpose.

After clarifying what happened, Wang pulled the kid into her arms but couldn’t bring herself to scold her. Instead, she pinched the kid’s nose, calling her a mischievous little imp.

Shortly after this small scene, Lu called again, asking me to come to the station immediately.

I hurried there with Wang and the kid.

In Lu’s office, he told me my theory had been confirmed.

Just last night, another precinct received a report and found a new crime scene and a body. Early this morning, Lu had gone to the forensic center to examine the corpse. It had been sexually assaulted and had incisions on the chest and genitals. The medical examiner judged the body had died very recently, based on lividity.

Before calling me, Lu had arranged for families of the missing bodies to identify the three recovered corpses, all confirmed as their missing relatives.

At the latest scene, there was another battered pot, with human flesh inside—only lightly scalded, almost raw.

“The killer’s eating meat more and more raw. I’m afraid next time, he’ll eat it alive,” Lu said with deep concern.

At that moment, someone burst in to report that Qiu Xiao’s brother had suddenly and inexplicably fled during police questioning...

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