Nightmare Apostle

Yang Xiao glanced at him and started to rather like the guy; being slow wasn’t a problem, what mattered was not being stupid and unaware of it. This Guo Tiejun, though just about to be a newcomer, was someone who understood things.

Yang Xiao swept his gaze over everyone and noticed that, not counting Liu Hongwei from the clinic, two people were still missing.

"Where are Zhao Xuejun and Hu Weimin?" Yang Xiao asked.

"They’re with the people from Security Section. I saw them riding bikes, wearing red armbands, heading toward the front plant." Zhang Xiaomin reported.

Yang Xiao nodded, figuring Security Section had assigned them some tasks—after all, their positions in the factory were as Security Section staff.

Strictly speaking, Yang Xiao and Ye Zheng should’ve gone too, but Chief Zhou knew they’d been busy all night and didn’t call them.

Sitting at the table, Yang Xiao opened the manila file envelope; this time the materials inside were far more detailed than what Security Section had sent last time.

Besides the case files, there were attached photos and many handwritten witness statements, which was a huge help for Yang Xiao and the others.

Over the years, there had been three homicide cases in the factory related to fires: the explosion in Workshop No. 4’s auxiliary warehouse, the flash fire in Production Section’s surplus materials, and the one Yang Xiao was most focused on—the malicious arson on the 4th floor of the office building.

By now, Yang Xiao had already formed some investigative directions, doing reverse reasoning based on the Ghost’s behavioral habits and killing methods.

First, this Ghost has a habit of coughing, which very likely was caused by inhaling large amounts of toxic gases at a fire scene.

Second, the victims killed by the Ghost had their corpses severely damaged, their facial skin flayed off; either the Ghost has some kind of collecting fetish, or it’s a deliberate act of venting hatred and revenge.

Lastly, every mutilated victim had gone to the Cultural Palace at night before they died, which shows there must be some sort of origin link between the Ghost and the Cultural Palace.

Following these lines of thought, Yang Xiao re-examined the three cases; this was basically using the conclusion to search for the process.

But to his surprise, after reading through all three cases, none of them fit his conjectures particularly well.

"Could it be... it’s not these?" Yang Xiao couldn’t help but start muttering to himself.

"There’s another possibility: the materials in here may not be fully truthful. Maybe someone deliberately concealed some key clues." Holding the files, Ye Zheng reminded him.

It had to be said, Ye Zheng’s words hit the nail on the head; after all, the two of them had seen a lot of the world.

Given their identities, in the real world they were more than capable of stirring up storms with a turn of the hand; if they wanted to distort right and wrong and hide the truth, it wouldn’t be hard for people like them.

Perhaps one of these three cases wasn’t at all what the files described, but instead had enormous secrets hidden behind it.

However, if that was the situation, then it was troublesome. What they lacked most right now was time; if the factory’s Security Section refused to cooperate with them, then for just a few of them to clarify everything down to the last detail within only a few days would be sheer fantasy.

And if they happened to touch secrets that weren’t meant to be touched, they themselves might get dragged into it.

Just as Yang Xiao was locked in a mental storm, footsteps sounded outside the door, then someone knocked, very softly.

"Dong, dong-dong, dong."

The knocking was rhythmic; it was the code they’d agreed on earlier.

The visitor was one of their own.

When the door opened, two people entered one after the other: Zhao Xuehua and Hu Weimin.

Their faces didn’t look good; clearly they’d already learned from Security Section what had happened last night—that Wang Yong had had an incident, vanishing without a trace in the public washroom, not leaving the slightest clue.

"Where did you two go?" Yang Xiao sat there without moving and raised his head to ask.

"Security Section sent people to notify us to join a security inspection—in fact, it was a covert check for enemy agents." Zhao Xuehua replied.

"What on earth happened to you?" Ye Zheng looked at the trailing Hu Weimin. The guy was filthy, with mud on his cuffs and pant legs, the whole person rather bedraggled.

At that, Hu Weimin pulled a bitter face and explained that he simply couldn’t handle the old-style bicycles of this era—they were heavy and not agile. When passing a stretch of road paved with crushed stones, he wasn’t paying attention and took a fall with both man and bike.

It was just a small episode, and Yang Xiao didn’t dwell on it. He went on asking, "Did you find anything during the inspection?"

"No." The two answered in unison.

Though a bit disappointed, this was within expectations. Yang Xiao waved his hand and motioned for them to sit.

"Captain Yang, last night we ran into something a bit strange. We’re not sure... not sure if it has anything to do with this case." Zhao Xuejun suddenly spoke up.

"Go ahead." Yang Xiao wouldn’t let any clue slip by.

"Here’s what happened. Last night, after we left the Cultural Palace, we went straight back to the dorm. I was too tired and went right to sleep; the first watch was Hu Weimin’s turn."

"While I was sleeping in a daze, suddenly Hu Weimin woke me up. He was crouched by the window, telling me to look outside." Zhao Xuejun said.

At this moment, Hu Weimin picked up the thread and continued, "I saw a bit of firelight flare up out in the night, but the flame wasn’t large and only lasted a few seconds, like... like someone striking a match."

"I vaguely saw a human figure there, but the figure flickered once and then disappeared."

"Striking a match would normally be nothing, but it was deep night at the time and there wasn’t a single person outside. And... and that spot is a waste area—no one lives there." Hu Weimin added, looking rather peculiar.

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