Chapter 47: The Case of the Hammer Demon (Part 16)

On the evening of November 1st, the setting sun sank low. Twilight poured like molten gold over the mottled stone walls of Zhaogang Village in the ancient town, and the withered branches of an old willow tree etched the fissures of the sky against the evening wind.

An elderly farmer whipped his thin bamboo switch, driving the final old ox across a stone bridge covered in green patches. The ox hooves shattered the sunset's reflection on the water, startling dark red fireflies from the reed bed—the last embers of late autumn, their wings stained with the ash of burned wheat straw.

Running water wrapped around scattered withered leaves as it skirted the west end of the village. Suddenly, smoke rose from the chimney of a household, and wisps of white mist drifted across a haystack, miraculously transforming into human shapes before being torn apart by the gathering dusk.

"Old Li, you're back. Was the temple fair fun? Was it lively?" the farmer greeted his neighbor.

That day happened to coincide with the ancient town's temple fair. In the afternoon, a bus departing from the Fuxian bus station slowly rolled in.

From it stepped a man, dark-skinned and short in stature, yet he walked with such speed that even the bicycles by the roadside could not keep pace with him.

He paused in front of a street stall, his eyes falling upon a four-pound sledgehammer with a handle seven or eight inches long. He asked the boss, "How much for this hammer?"

The boss sized him up and held out five fingers.

He did not haggle, tossed fifty yuan to the boss, slipped the sledgehammer into a plastic snakeskin bag, slung it over his shoulder, and left the ancient town, turning south onto a highway.

Walking two or three li south along the highway, then turning west toward a riverbank, he arrived at a village known as Zhaogang Village.

At the head of the bridge stood a stone tablet bearing the inscription "Rebuilt during the Wanli Era," its carved characters oozing a rust-like hue as though soaked in the blood and tears of countless grievances over the centuries, now solidifying into a purplish-black scab alongside the remnants of the western sunset.

Twilight bled like gore, and he wandered within the shadows of Zhaogang Village. A stolen kitchen knife gleamed coldly under the moonlight. When it slashed against a poplar tree by the roadside, it produced a dull, chopping thud that startled the crows roosting in the branches above. The poplar branch trembled slightly in his hand, as if foreseeing the blood it was destined to touch.

In the dead of night, he slipped into Chen Gengshen’s house. The poplar branch was left at the doorway of the eastern room. Moonlight filtered through the lattice window, dyeing the interior an eerie, ghostly grey-blue. As the octagonal hammer rose and fell, four bodies collapsed one after another, their blood shimmering in the moonlight like will-o'-the-wisps. Rummaging beneath a mat, he unearthed over ninety yuan; the banknotes were stained with blood, feeling in his hands like burning funerary paper.

He stepped outside, spotted the poplar branch by the door, and casually picked it up. A second thought crossed his mind—he would no longer need it—so he tossed it away into the courtyard.

The poplar branch lay quietly on the ground, five bloody handprints writhing in the moonlight like a quintet of blood-drinking butterflies. Meanwhile, he returned inside, violating the girl’s corpse amidst the overwhelming stench of blood. The moonlight streamed through the lattice, casting his distorted shadow upon the wall like the silhouette of a demon.

At the break of dawn, he pulled a quilt over Chen Gengshen's head, as if drawing a definitive period to this slaughter.

Early on the morning of November 2nd, when the police cars arrived, a faint, elusive weeping drifted through the morning mist of Zhaogang Village. Yet the bloody handprints on the poplar branch were slowly fading under the sunlight, as though attempting to erase every trace of the gruesome tragedy.

"Captain Lei," Old Wang said, handing the poplar branch to the approaching Lei Chen. "We inspected every poplar tree in Zhaogang Village and found no traces of newly cut stumps. Based on this, we deduce that this branch was either cut down or picked up by the suspect from somewhere outside Zhaogang Village."

"Were the bloody handprints left by the killer?" Lei Chen asked.

Old Wang nodded. "Almost certainly."

Lei Chen immediately handed the poplar branch to Li Rui. "Forensic Doctor Li, take a look."

Li Rui carefully observed the bloody handprints on the poplar branch and frowned, saying, "Only five bloody handprints can be distinguished. Because the blood is too thick, no fingerprints are visible. We'll have to take it back for analysis."

"Captain Lei, is it really that bastard?" Captain Wang's voice trembled slightly.

"The *modus operandi* is almost identical to the previous cases, and the murder weapon is the same—an octagonal hammer. It must be the same person," Lei Chen said, taking a deep breath. "Old Wang, don't worry, we will catch him."

Just as the forensic team attempted to place the poplar branch into an evidence case, one end stubbornly refused to fit, protruding persistently as if resisting removal. The moss on the bark cast a faint, phosphorescent glow in the sunlight, and the five bloody handprints seemed to slowly writhe, as if struggling to break free from the bondage of the wood.

When leaving the crime scene, the forensic personnel were loading the bodies into the vehicle. Seated inside, Li Rui stared at the stretcher covered by a white sheet, a knife-like pain twisting inside his chest.

Lei Chen walked over and tapped on the car window.

Wen Rou rolled down the window and asked, "What is it, Captain Lei?"

Lei Chen rarely revealed an expression of exhaustion. "How about we grab a drink after work?"

"What's got into you?" Wen Rou appraised him.

Lei Chen pointed at his own chest. "It feels blocked right here!"

Wen Rou glanced at Li Rui in the front passenger seat, as if seeking his opinion.

Li Rui pondered for a moment before replying, "Alright, I was thinking the exact same thing!"

Lei Chen forced a faint smile. "Great, I'll pick you guys up after work. Make sure to call Xiao Qi!"

At midnight, Back Alley Bar.

Neon lights refracted a dizzying halo within the whiskey glasses. Li Rui downed his whiskey in one gulp, the sound of ice cubes clinking against the glass rim reminding him of the jingle of surgical instruments on an autopsy table.

In the corner of the bar, Lei Chen sat staring blankly at his phone screen, which displayed a birthday greeting sent by his girlfriend—today was supposed to be the day he spent cutting a cake with her.

"This is the fifth one." Li Rui poured himself another glass, the amber liquid sloshing within. "The same methods, the same... cruelty."

His fingers unconsciously traced the rim of the glass, as if feeling the ligature marks on a victim's neck.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, a vulgar man was holding a hostess tight, revelling wildly in a KTV private room.

The reek of cheap perfume reminded him of the bloody stench clinging to the victimized girl. He tilted his head back and chugged a large mouthful of beer, the foam spilling down the corners of his mouth, bearing a chilling resemblance to the bloody froth that had bubbled from the young girl's lips that night.

The neon lights distorted into grotesque patterns in his eyes. In a drunken daze, he envisioned the murdered girls wearing red dresses, spinning endlessly across the dance floor with their skirts flying like bloody butterflies.

"Another bottle!" he roared at the top of his lungs, his voice as hoarse as that of a wounded beast.

The trembling hostess handed over a bottle, only for him to shove her away violently. Staggering to his feet, banknotes fell haphazardly from his trouser pockets—the "spoils" he had traded human lives to acquire.

"Waitress, another bottle!" Lei Chen called out.

"We missed something," Wen Rou mused.

Her Martini was nearly gone, the lipstick stain on the rim resembling an unhealed wound. "The killer isn't operating at random. He is... enjoying the process."

Li Rui’s temples throbbed violently as the image of the blood-soaked poplar branch flashed in his mind. The five bloody handprints writhed in the moonlight, seeming to mock the incompetence of the police.

Suddenly, Lei Chen's phone vibrated, and his face instantly lit up with a mix of surprise. "We have a lead! A waiter at Liren KTV reported that a customer there bears a striking resemblance to the suspect."

"Are you certain?" Wen Rou asked.

"Not certain, but we cannot afford to pass up a single lead."

"Let's go." Li Rui stood up, the lingering taste of whiskey turning bitter on the tip of his tongue. "Tonight, we'll make him pay the price."

Just as their vehicle sped all the way toward Liren KTV, the drunken man happened to step out of his private room.

His wolf-like eyes swept across his surroundings.

The waiter's evasive glance instantly alerted him to danger. Without a second thought, amid the terrified gazes of the onlookers, he stumbled out of the KTV, ducked into a narrow alley, and ran desperately into the darkness.

There were no surveillance cameras covering that alley; as long as he wasn't caught on film, the police would never find him.

Yet it seemed he was once again forced back into a life of desperate flight and exhausted wandering.

At this thought, he could not help but curse aloud, "Screw you all!"