Chapter Seventy-Four: The Woman of Death and the Family

It wasn’t until twenty minutes later that Jiang Wan’s figure finally appeared within the campus. She looked at the grave expression on Chen Qing’s face and then noticed the photos displayed on his phone screen.

“Where… did these photos come from?” she asked uneasily.

“Online…”

“Online?!”

He nodded. “Someone posted them on a forum. Even though the site’s moderation system automatically blocked the images, I imagine quite a few people managed to save them before that. There’s always a delay before the filters kick in.”

“But the problem is—who did it?” she bit her lip, her face already turning pale. “We checked every officer who was at the precinct yesterday. No one left with any data!”

“Then it wasn’t them…” He pinched his chin thoughtfully. “The Offspring is a relic of the last century… It might have been able to influence its host, making them use their own devices to spread the images. But posting them online—doesn’t that seem a bit too far-fetched?”

Jiang Wan listened, nodding in agreement, but doubt soon crept into her eyes. “But who, then? Who would even know about these things…”

They spoke in low voices, and Chen Qing’s gaze drifted unconsciously upward.

“Could it be them?” he murmured, the image of a young girl flashing through his mind. “They paid such a heavy price, even sacrificing two C-class anomalous artifacts… How could they just withdraw, just like that…”

Hearing this, Bu Zhaozhao sighed from above, shaking her head. “Unlikely. Back when I was in charge, any incident involving mythological creatures was classified as top secret, not to be profited from, and had to be contained as quickly as possible. They…”

“But that was back then! That was two centuries ago! Ambition only grows with time.” Chen Qing cut her off before she could finish. “That was more than two hundred years ago! Even your death was because capital infiltrated the Foundation! Even you died for it!”

He looked up, meeting Bu Zhaozhao’s eyes. “Two hundred years. Two centuries ago, they were already trading in people, using them up and discarding them; today they just treat the masses as raw material! They did these things back then—they’ll do them now!”

He took a deep breath before continuing. “In any case… there must be humans fanning the flames behind all this. As for which faction, I can’t say yet, but they must be connected to someone within the precinct—someone like me. Someone is providing them with esoteric knowledge… otherwise, they couldn’t have mastered the Offspring’s rules so perfectly.”

Jiang Wan hesitated, about to nod, but Chen Qing interrupted with another question: “By the way, what about—Jie Hongbo, in the precinct? Did you investigate him?”

“Him?” She sighed. “He left the task force that night, said he couldn’t handle the shock. He’s been in low spirits and hasn’t shown up for two days.”

“You didn’t investigate him?”

“We did, but there was nothing on his phone. Actually, we found a lot of data on his secretary’s phone, but after looking into it, the network address where the data was supposed to be sent was wrong. Nothing was actually transmitted, so we dropped it.”

“Wrong?”

Jiang Wan nodded. “We checked the domain. It wasn’t registered. Maybe he just remembered it wrong.”

Chen Qing listened but couldn’t shake his unease. Was it really a mistake? He doubted it.

“Did you hear about the incident on the pedestrian street yesterday?”

She nodded. “Three dead. Two ruled as suicides, one as an accident. The restaurant should reopen today.”

“Did you look into the woman who died in the accident?”

Jiang Wan saw his face growing more troubled, his mouth opening as if to speak but then hesitating. It was clear he was preoccupied, but the questions he asked were carefully measured.

“What do you mean? We investigated, but the victim’s background was completely clean—nothing suspicious.”

“So how do you think the Offspring chooses its victims?”

He stared into Jiang Wan’s eyes, voicing the question that gnawed at his mind.

“I don’t know…”

“Neither do I.” He laughed, but there was some resignation in his smile. “Go check Jie Hongbo again. He’s the only one in the precinct who hasn’t been properly investigated.”

After Jiang Wan agreed, the case at the school was more or less left to them. Since the deaths had been caused by supernatural forces, the official line was simply that the students had suffered psychological issues. The case was wrapped up with remarkable speed; by the end of the afternoon, the school had returned to its usual calm.

Chen Qing left the campus with the departing police officers. Following his memory, he made his way to the restaurant, arriving just after two in the afternoon. At this hour, the entrance was rather deserted, with only a handful of staff present.

He walked in, and the host greeted him.

“Good afternoon, sir. Do you have a reservation?”

Chen Qing shook his head and replied, “Don’t worry about me. I’m here for your boss. He’ll be coming to meet me.”

He finished speaking and sat down to the side. He might have been relaxed, but the staff dared not ignore him. They busied themselves, bringing him water and snacks, their faces wearing sycophantic smiles, as if genuinely devoted to the ideal of service.

He watched their bustling and couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. But his thoughts didn’t linger long, because he soon saw the boss, Mr. Su, hurrying over.

Sweat beaded on Su’s forehead and he looked flustered, but his complexion was much improved, and the dark circles under his eyes had faded.

“Mr. Chen! I can’t believe you came in person! Thank you so much, Mr. Chen!”

He expressed his gratitude several times, not even having fully entered the restaurant.

“Has Karans been in touch with you?” Chen Qing asked, curiosity in his voice.

“Karans?” Su looked puzzled and shook his head.

“Good.” Chen Qing stood and began to walk. “I need a word with you. Will you come with me?”

Su was momentarily stunned, but seeing the faint smile on Chen Qing’s face, he didn’t dare refuse. He nodded, bent in deference, and hurried to follow Chen Qing outside.

They walked several hundred meters before Chen Qing asked, “Do you have a car?”

Su blinked, then nodded.

“Is it safe in there?”

Su hesitated again, but nodded, now visibly anxious.

They continued for a few minutes until they reached the car. Once inside, Chen Qing pressed something in his pocket, making the car’s audio system emit a deep hum.

“I need you to do something for me,” he said, eyeing Su. “And as compensation, I can share some esoteric knowledge with you.”

“For you, or for the people behind you?”

He paused, squinting at the car’s central console. “Does it make a difference?” Chen Qing laughed, sidestepping the question.

“No difference! None at all!”

“There are two things I need your help with.”

“Please, go ahead.”

“First: I need an abandoned, empty church. Your kind should have no trouble finding such a place. Second: I need to visit the home of the woman who died yesterday—you should have her address.”

Su frowned, thinking for a moment, then used his phone to make some inquiries and gave his promise.

“Understood. How should I notify you once I’ve found them?”

“Once both tasks are done…” Chen Qing handed him a website address. “Just send me a private message through this site.”

Su immediately took down the site, entered the minimalistic interface, and looked around curiously.

“Are there others?”

He nodded. “Of course, but you won’t see them yet.”

Chen Qing was silent for a moment, then smiled. “You’re a veteran. I shouldn’t have to spell things out for you. But still, I’ll say this: in this chat group, don’t reveal who you are, don’t try to guess anyone else’s name or identity. If you need to, use a pseudonym.”

Su nodded knowingly. “Of course, I get it. It’s the black market! Everyone keeps their faces covered, takes what they need, and parts ways as strangers. If you slip up, it’s on you for lacking skill. I understand completely!”

As he finished, his phone chimed. He turned to Chen Qing and provided an address—the place where the woman had lived.

Chen Qing committed it to memory, then suddenly asked if Su wanted to come along. Su was taken aback, hesitated, but finally agreed.

They spent about twenty minutes on the ring road, then another twenty to reach their destination. By the time they arrived, it was after four in the afternoon.

Chen Qing looked at the plain apartment building before him and sighed quietly. The residents watched the two of them warily, their expressions cold and guarded.

“It’s on the fourth floor.”

They climbed up to the door. The mailbox was stuffed with envelopes, the utility bill perched on top.

He knocked softly, but there was no response from inside.

“Let me, please!” Su rolled up his sleeves, glanced around, and produced a wire.

His hands worked for just a few seconds—an outside observer would have thought he merely stroked the lock, and the door opened.

Chen Qing was not surprised by this, but Su, seeing Chen Qing’s composure, was a bit puzzled.

They stepped inside, but hadn’t gone more than a few steps—barely onto the balcony and the hallway—when the thick stench of blood struck them.

“Wait here,” Chen Qing said, his face calm, though his heart twinged painfully.

Another death… another one.

He thought to himself, then spoke over his shoulder to Su: “Don’t come in.”

He ignored Su’s reply, rolled up his pant leg, put a shoe cover over his foot, and stepped into the hallway.