Chapter 50: The Hammer Fiend Case (Part Nineteen)

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The sky was just beginning to lighten, but the surroundings remained quiet. He hurriedly got up and approached the courtyard, but having set out too late, daylight was nearly breaking by the time he arrived.

He calculated the time. "Those two old bastards should be waking up soon. If they catch me inside, the plan’s ruined."

Even without being discovered, time was tight. So, as timid as a mouse, he quickly retreated outside the estate, took off his clothes, and stuffed them into a haystack to the northeast, preparing for future attempts.

Just past midnight that same night, he returned to the small courtyard like a ghost.

The courtyard walls on both sides were low, with piles of firewood stacked at the base. Using the wood as steps, he scaled the wall and slipped inside.

There were three main rooms facing south, with a kitchen on the east side facing west. The old man slept in the main room, while the kitchen held a woman and two little girls, both doors left open.

Noticing an additional little girl, he secretly rejoiced. “Heaven’s been kind to me.”

A dim yellow glow seeped from the window lattice of the main room, casting shadows on the old locust tree in the courtyard; the branches swayed like prison guards wielding batons.

Once inside the main room, he first knocked the old man unconscious with a hammer, then stabbed his heart with a fruit knife, followed by cutting his throat with scissors. Covering the head with a blanket, he turned to the kitchen.

Inside stood a paulownia wood cabinet, whose scent reminded him of the polish on a dowry box at a neighbor’s sister’s wedding.

This momentarily distracted him. Just then, a girl on the bed suddenly awoke. Moonlight slanted through the window crack, revealing the man’s lean back—marked by a burn scar.

“Who are you?” The youngest girl at the bed’s end trembled in voice, fingers reaching under the pillow for scissors.

“Don’t move.” A hoarse dialect rolled from his throat, his sweaty palm dampening the girl’s neck.

At that moment, the old woman also woke. “Who’s there?”

“Damn it!” Seeing the old woman about to scream, he wildly raised the hammer and smashed down on her and the little girl sleeping beside her.

Both girls stopped moving. Feeling the icy tears at their eyes, a shiver ran through him, and the hammer slipped from his grasp.

After murdering the family of four, he began searching both rooms for money—rifling through drawers, beds, and chests. Having turned both rooms inside out, he found nothing.

He paused, his gaze lingering on the girls’ bodies. The bed creaked under heavy weight; the stale smell of the old rattan bed mixed with blood assaulted his senses.

At the first rooster crow, the small man climbed over the earthen wall. A silver bracelet, taken from the old woman’s hand, jingled faintly against his thigh. Its surface was engraved with “Longevity and a Hundred Years.”

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As dawn broke, he saw the stone stele at the village entrance inscribed with “White Nan Village,” dew blurring the characters like blood and tears.

...

Across from the city police station, jazz music flowed through the café air like a faint wisp of smoke.

Li Rui stared at the swirling milk foam in his cup; the latte art had blurred into a vague bloodstain pattern. Outside, sycamore leaves fluttered in the dusk, their shadows cast upon the table like the bloodied poplar stick from the crime scene.

“You haven’t been sleeping well lately,” Wen Rou said gently, stirring the latte before her. The lipstick mark on the cup’s rim looked like an unhealed wound. “Still thinking about the case?”

Li Rui’s fingers tapped the table unconsciously, matching the jazz drumbeat. “From Xiping to Huixian, all the way to Drum Tower, he’s been killing—and we...” His voice faltered, as if the smell of formalin filled the air again.

Wen Rou reached out and covered his hand with hers; the warmth reminded him of those cold bodies on the dissection table. “You’re no god, Li Rui. We’re all doing our best.”

Just then, Li Rui’s phone vibrated. A message from Lei Chen cut through the café’s calm like a surgeon’s knife: “New body found in White Nan Village, same MO. I’ve arranged for intern officer Xiao Wang to pick you up. Hurry.”

Li Rui jumped to his feet, knocking over his coffee. The brown liquid spread across the table like blood at the scene. Wen Rou quickly grabbed napkins to clean, though her hands trembled slightly.

“Let’s go.” She grabbed her coat, a hint of jasmine scent brushing Li Rui’s cheek.

Outside, sirens wailed, growing louder. Red and blue lights flickered through the glass, casting their shadows on the walls—distorted silhouettes of hunters chasing demons.

The jazz music continued, yet no one listened. The unfinished latte on the table cooled, the foam revealing a blurred face.

The police car screeched to a halt on a muddy country road, startling crows from the treetops. Intern officer Xiao Wang stumbled out, morning dew soaking his pant legs.

A sickly sweet, rotten smell hung in the air, like decaying fruit mingled with rust.

“Put on the mask.” Li Rui handed over an N95, his eyes seasoned with experience. Xiao Wang’s fingers shook as he took it, knuckles whitening.

The crime scene curtain fluttered softly in the morning breeze, whispering. Xiao Wang followed Wen Rou, his every step muffled as if on cotton. Crossing the threshold, the thick stench of blood pierced his mask and struck his nostrils. His stomach convulsed as if an invisible hand squeezed it mercilessly.

The corpse lay face-up in a pool of blood; the skull smashed like a watermelon, brain matter and blood congealing into eerie patterns on the floor. Xiao Wang’s throat tightened uncontrollably, saliva rising. He turned to flee but tripped on the threshold, his knee striking the ground hard.

“Heaving—”

He vomited violently onto the courtyard’s muddy soil; breakfast soy milk and fried dough mingled with stomach acid staining his uniform. Tears streamed unbidden, blurring his vision. In a daze, he saw Li Rui crouched by the corpse, expertly examining the wounds as if facing a teaching cadaver.

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“This happens the first time,” Wen Rou said softly, handing him a bottle of mineral water. “Go rest in the car for a bit.”

Xiao Wang shook his head, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. In the morning light, he noticed a streak of blood in his vomit—whether gum bleeding or psychological, he couldn’t tell. He took a deep breath, donned his mask again, and shakily walked inside.

This time, his gaze no longer wavered but fixed firmly on the corpse, as if imprinting the brutal scene into memory.

After completing the on-site investigation, Li Rui and Wen Rou approached Lei Chen with heavy expressions. “The elderly female victim’s body was covered with a blanket; hair was found on her left hand’s fingers. The two young female victims were covered with sheets, which bore extensive bloodstains and some hair.”

“Both girls’ bodies tested positive for small amounts of rice blue larvae,” Li Rui added.

Wen Rou continued, “The wounds indicate blunt force trauma, likely from that octagonal hammer.”

Lei Chen ground his teeth. “Damn it! That bastard...”

Li Rui shook his head. “Though the wounds were caused by an octagonal hammer, it may not be the same hammer each time.”

“Are you suggesting there are two killers?” Qi Wei asked.

“That’s not what I mean,” Li Rui explained. “If I were the killer, I’d discard the weapon after each murder and buy a new one before the next. Carrying a bloodied hammer is too risky.”

“Exactly. Those hammers are common hardware store items—hard to trace,” Lei Chen agreed.

“The killer has already claimed many lives; he’s numb to the sight of splattered blood and victims’ dying agony,” Li Rui said. “Every day, his two tasks are: find an opportunity to kill and evade capture. If we keep chasing him from behind, we’ll never catch up.”

“Then what should we do?” Lei Chen asked.

“Understand the opponent, become the opponent, defeat the opponent,” Li Rui replied.

“How do we understand him?” Lei Chen pressed.

Li Rui shook his head. “That’s the problem—we know nothing about him.”