Chapter Eighteen: The Chopstick Maniac

Walking through this French-style villa, the air was thick with the stench of blood—six corpses lay within its walls. Shen Ye first made sure to erase any traces he might have left behind: footprints, fingerprints, anything that could give him away. Only when everything was tidied up to his satisfaction did he put on a pair of gloves and reach into Ma Guosheng’s pocket to retrieve his phone.

It was a Huawei P8—quite a handsome device. Unfortunately, it was smeared with blood, and Shen Ye wasn’t sure if it would still work. It even had a fingerprint unlock feature. Shen Ye pressed Ma Guosheng’s finger to the sensor, and with a soft click, the phone unlocked.

Unhurried, Shen Ye calmly dialed 110.

After a short wait, the call was answered.

“Hello, this is the 110 emergency line of Yangcheng County Public Security Bureau. This is Operator 17 speaking. How may I assist you?” A sweet female voice greeted him.

After the recent carnage, Shen Ye’s mood was unexpectedly tranquil. “I do need your help—I’ve killed someone.”

The female officer on the other end was momentarily taken aback. “You said you’ve killed someone? Where did this happen? Please don’t panic. According to the law, if you killed in self-defense, it is not a crime. Please give me your address and tell me the reason for the killing.”

“No, it wasn’t self-defense. Hold on, let me have a cigarette first.” Shen Ye took a cigarette from the pack, lit it, drew in a deep breath, and then, in no hurry, continued, “In fact, I didn’t kill just one person. I killed six.”

Shen Ye realized he was toying with the 110 operator. Perhaps it was the afterglow of violence that left him so relaxed.

He felt remarkably at ease.

At the Yangcheng County Public Security Bureau, Operator 17, Lin Wei, was a striking young woman, slender and about five foot five, a recent graduate. She felt something was off—this caller claimed to have killed six people. That was an enormous case. Yet during the call, he’d asked her to wait while he had a smoke, showing a composure and ease she had never encountered in over a year of fielding emergency calls. Either this was a complete lunatic, or he was a prankster and nothing had happened at all.

“Alright, I won’t tease you any longer.” Shen Ye took another drag and spoke into the phone, “Have you heard of Ma Lao Liu, Ma Guosheng—one of the crime bosses in Yangcheng County? I’ve killed Ma Guosheng and his five top henchmen. The bodies are here at the luxury villa he built in Tangquan Township.”

Lin Wei was left utterly speechless. What was happening? She hesitated, then said, “Sir, murder is against the law.”

“I know. Laws are tools to maintain order. But I am here to exact divine justice, to punish evil—two entirely different things.” Shen Ye exhaled smoke. “As for my crime, the law will punish me, but rest assured, the authorities won’t find me. That’s the end of my tease.”

“Little sister, I’ve told you where the killings took place. Hurry over—if you arrive in ten minutes, you might even catch me.” After finishing the call, Shen Ye ended it, tossed the P8 to the floor, and stamped on it, shattering it into several pieces.

Sparks flew from the phone’s circuit board.

Shen Ye didn’t rush to leave. He smoked, eyes on the clock above the wall.

A man must keep his word. Since he said he’d wait ten minutes for the police, he would wait ten minutes. Only when the time was up did he stand, dust himself off, and walk away.

Outside, the wind howled and rain lashed down. The night was dark and wild—the perfect night for killing. Tonight, the slaughter had been nothing short of exhilarating.

...

Meanwhile, at the Yangcheng County Public Security Bureau, Operator Lin Wei, the recently graduated, graceful young officer, dashed breathlessly into her superior’s office to report.

Panting, her chest heaving, she painted a striking picture. “I just took a call—not sure if he’s a lunatic or what. He said he killed Ma Guosheng and his five top men at Ma’s villa in Tangquan Township.”

“What!” Captain Meng Zhitan of the county’s criminal investigation team leapt to his feet.

Meng Zhitan, known as the Smiling Buddha, had a face like a Maitreya statue and greeted everyone with a cheery smile. He was a bit plump—looking more like a businessman than a cop. Yet his investigative skills were top-notch, and his case closure rate was exceptional.

“Who knows if this caller was telling the truth, but we’ll check it out regardless.”

“Alright, Lin, Su, you two come with me,” Captain Meng decided.

Despite the raging storm, it took only half an hour for the police car to reach Tangquan Township.

Five officers sat in the vehicle. Normally, gun control here was strict, but today, all five were armed—after all, the suspect claimed to have killed six people. No one dared take chances.

Tangquan Township was a rural area on the outskirts of town, with several factories and many migrant workers. But no one dared build a house near Ma Guosheng’s extravagant villa. It stood alone, isolated.

The police car pulled up outside the French villa.

“There’s a scent of blood—everyone stay alert.”

The officers in the back chambered rounds in their pistols.

In China, police rarely carry firearms, but given the suspect claimed to have killed six people, caution was necessary.

Officer Su, a police academy graduate and marksmanship expert, led the way. He burst through the door in a textbook breach stance, muzzle angled slightly down, then dove for cover and surveyed the villa’s interior.

The first floor was immaculate—luxuriously decorated, no sign of blood.

But as they ascended to the second floor, they were stunned.

On the floor and up the stairs to the third level, five or six bodies lay sprawled in disarray, blood pooling across the floor. Several corpses had chopsticks embedded in their throats. The most gruesome sight was beneath the marble table—a body split in two, viscera exposed.

“Secure the scene. Check if the killer is still here,” Captain Meng said, involuntarily sucking in a cold breath. In over twenty years on the force, he’d only encountered such horror a handful of times.

The five detectives swept through the rooms, searching for another five minutes.

“The killer is gone,” Captain Meng secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Facing a murderer who had just killed six people would have been daunting.

“The door was locked when we arrived, but the kitchen window was open, with footprints beneath it. The killer must have entered through the window,” Captain Meng mused. “He then encountered the people on the second floor and killed four there.”

“One of the corpses is Du Wenfeng, known as the Plum Blossom Blade, infamous in the underworld.”

“The killer must have been incredibly strong—he lifted a two-hundred-pound marble table and crushed Du Wenfeng to death.”

“Finally, the killer went to the fourth floor and easily dispatched Ma Guosheng and Zhang Ning.”

Captain Meng analyzed the scene step by step, reconstructing what had happened. He gazed at Ma Guosheng’s corpse, feeling a complicated mix of emotions.

Ma had been a big figure in the county, yet here he lay, dead. But Meng had little personal connection to Ma, so he felt no particular sense of loss.

“That can’t be,” Su protested, the bravado of youth in his voice. “No one’s that strong. That marble table must weigh two hundred pounds—we’ve had training, but none of us could lift it alone.”

“No,” Meng shook his head, a flicker of fear in his eyes. “In my twenty years as a detective, I’ve seen and heard of a few people with that kind of strength.”

Su still looked doubtful, muttering, “How could anyone wield a two-hundred-pound marble table as a weapon?”

“I expected you might not believe it.” Meng shook his head again. “I’ve only heard rumors, but it seems there truly are people in modern society who live like characters from martial arts novels. Their strength surpasses anything we can imagine. I suspect Ma crossed one of these people.”

“Is there really such a thing as the martial underworld?” The other officers glanced at Meng in disbelief—if anyone else had said it, they’d have called him crazy.

“There is. But enough about that.” Meng straightened up. “Lin, collect fingerprints.”

“Yes, sir,” Lin replied.

...

That night, the Yangcheng County criminal investigation team set up a special task force for the case.

But they found no fingerprints, hair, or blood from the killer at the scene. The villa stood alone in a rural village with no surveillance cameras. Besides, Ma Guosheng had made countless enemies—investigating from that angle was a dead end.

After some time, the investigation was reluctantly closed.

However, the criminal investigation team did give the mysterious killer a nickname:

The Chopstick Demon.

He was known for driving chopsticks through his victims’ throats.