Chapter 143: The Spoils and the Police Enter

I think the one thing human beings can never figure out, even if they spend a lifetime doing so, is how they will die.

Just like him, he had never imagined that he would die in such an ordinary residential house.

He had never imagined that, despite having become an investigator and having thoroughly studied modern firearms, he would still die at the hands of such a thing.

He would never have thought that the young man lying paralyzed downstairs could effortlessly kill him a thousand or eight hundred times.

Nor would he have thought that all of this was triggered by an ordinary person.

After he died, Jiang Wan felt around his body and fished out a scabbard.

The scabbard was very short, no longer than an index finger, and it looked as if it could only hold the front half of a blade.

The daggers he used were all the same.

As Jiang Wan touched the scabbard in her hand, information related to it flashed through her mind.

"E-Grade Intangible Cultural Heritage: The Choir's Autograph Pen.
After storing a blade for a certain period of time, the stored blade will track a pre-designated target within a certain range.
Within that range, the blade will always advance toward the target.
Members of the choir usually require a massive amount of sustenance and maintenance: within a certain time frame, a sufficient quantity of wailing must be provided to the choir.
After a certain amount of use, a sufficient quantity of wailing must be provided to the choir."

Sensing the information in her mind, she finally let out a heavy sigh of relief.

This was the reason why her opponent had only launched a single attack against her at the very beginning; he could not—and dared not—continue his attacks indefinitely.

She staggered a couple of steps, pulled a blanket off the sofa to cover the man's body, and called out into the room a few times, summoning Zhang Tinglan out.

Her face was pale white; it was from the fright, yet also the pristine white complexion reflected by the moonlight.

The hand with which she pushed the door open was trembling, and her steps stumbling as she walked out. When she looked at Jiang Wan and saw her covered in wounds, her tears immediately began to stream down uncontrollably.

Lingering fear, worry, and guilt—complex emotions burst forth in her heart all at once.

She staggered and hurried to Jiang Wan's side. As she reached out to support Jiang Wan and help her onto the sofa, she saw Jiang Wan shake her head.

"He's still down there..."

Hearing Jiang Wan's words, the expression on her face panicked for a moment: "Y-Yes! I'll go find him, it'll be fine if I go find him!"

Before she finished speaking, and before her foot even stepped out, her arm was grabbed by Jiang Wan.

"Help me down there." She shook her head, the wounds on her body still bleeding.

"But your injuries..."

"Let's go." Seeing the other person resolutely shake her head, feeling helpless and lacking any decision-making power of her own, she followed Jiang Wan's advice.

The two walked all the way down, and upon reaching the deserted street, they were instantly shocked by the scene before them.

They saw blood flowing like a river, tiny trickles nourishing the trees along the side. In the middle of that vast river of blood, Chen Qing's body lay right in the center.

Yet within that river of blood, there was a small, clean patch of empty space. It was as if the blood was actively avoiding him, leaving his entire body spotless and pristine, yet he just lay there, motionless.

Seeing the blood flowing beneath them, its color already somewhat darkened, Zhang Tingyun staggered back two steps, allowing the blood splashed by her heels to stain her with tiny specks of crimson.

"What... what happened to him?" She looked at Chen Qing and asked Jiang Wan beside her, "What on earth did he encounter out on the street?"

Hearing the question, she opened her mouth but gave no answer. Looking at the young man's body in the river of blood, she didn't even dare to imagine whether that was a living body or a corpse.

Her fingertips grew slightly cold, and with that hand, she bit by bit, resolutely pushed away the living support on her arm. She stumbled, yet her steps were unusually determined.

She walked forward step by step, hearing the sound of Zhang Tingyun's footsteps coming from behind. She turned her head and stopped the young woman's kind intention to continue supporting her.

"Chen Qing?" Her voice trembled slightly, but she was trying hard to suppress it.

She walked slowly forward, reaching out her hands—which had already lost their warmth—toward his neck. She touched him gently, feeling that faint, pulsing heartbeat, and as she looked down with lowered eyes, she saw Chen Qing's opened eyes.

"Yo... you're here?"

Looking at Chen Qing's glowing white face, she let out a massive sigh of relief.

It was a comfort far greater than the previous battle, a relief far deeper than the joy of escaping death just moments ago.

Immediately afterward, she heard Chen Qing speak again: "Can I borrow some clothes?
My clothes are torn."

Hearing Chen Qing's words, her gaze dropped downward, and her cheeks turned completely red.