O Despedaçador Yin-Yang
Quando o bisturi científico cortou um peito estranho... descobri que fantasmas mentem e deuses deixam impressões digitais. Sou um médico legista e acredito firmemente que o cadáver é a única verdade. Até que assumi uma série de cenas de crime dignas de uma "batalha entre divindades" — corpos que se autoincendiaram em salas trancadas, cadáveres que "cresceram" nas paredes, vítimas mortas por armas "invisíveis". Todos dizem que isso é tabu, que é sobrenatural. Mas eu só vejo um "assassino" com métodos desconhecidos. O que o mundo chama de paranormal, para mim é apenas um relatório de autópsia; aquilo que eles chamam de regras, eu chamo de arma do crime. A verdade, no fim, será dissecada por minhas mãos!
O Despedaçador Yin-Yang
A shrill alarm shattered the dead silence of the city bureau’s central morgue at two in the morning.
Aunt Chen, on duty that night, felt her heart skip a beat, the sluggish remnants of sleep instantly swept away by a cold spike of terror. She snatched up her reading glasses, trembling as she lunged toward the surveillance monitors.
The images flipped through one by one, finally freezing on Cold Storage Unit Three in the mortuary. The heavy stainless steel door now hung ajar at an unnatural angle, as if pushed by an invisible hand.
On the screen, the corpse stored inside—Zhou Zhenguo, a retired fingerprint expert who had died suddenly of acute cardiac arrest three days prior—was slowly, unnaturally, sitting up, his joints bending in rigid, inhuman directions.
Aunt Chen’s breath caught in her throat.
She saw the body, which should have been cold and stiff, press all ten fingers forcefully onto the stainless steel autopsy table. The fingertips scraped across the metal surface with a teeth-grating screech, carving seven distorted, worm-like arched symbols of varying depths.
“Aaah—!”
A piercing scream ripped through the night. In a panic, Aunt Chen grabbed the phone, stumbling over her words as she called the command center for help.
But by the time the heavily armed homicide squad, led by Captain Lin Zhiyuan, burst into the morgue, everything had returned to normal.
The door of Unit Three was tightly shut. Zhou Zhenguo lay quietly inside, his ashen face utterly lifeless.
If not for Aunt Chen’s ghastly pallor and the
