Chapter 29: Omen of Death

Shi Rang had expected to encounter another avenger pursuing the "Blue Signal" members when he opened the door.

But outside, there was only silence.

The other person had left—perhaps they mistook him for an accomplice and didn't want to fall into a disadvantageous two-on-one situation, or perhaps they had gone off in search of other criminals.

The screams were what had led him here. After a brief moment of surprise, Shi Rang understood the situation: these criminals were so arrogant and brazen, driving heavy-duty vehicles used for disposing of bodies through the night with their headlights blazing, that he couldn't possibly be the only one following their trail.

The other individual was clearly better prepared, armed with a gun, and perhaps something like gasoline.

As Shi Rang entered the workshop, he smelled the stench of burning flesh and heard, from far away, someone screaming on the stairs.

Perhaps that person held some clues... if they were still alive.

He moved through the darkness, feeling utterly hollow.

The flashlight he had brought was already buried in a deep pit, and his camera had been hidden away. Without any light, Shi Rang struggled to navigate the complex layout of the workshop.

He felt his way along like a blind man, just as he had when he arrived, constantly tripping and scrambling back to his feet, dodging debris and hanging cables that sought to snag him as he searched for the staircase against the wall.

It had to be either Greyhound or one of his associates.

Perhaps they had targeted Ying Shang to settle a score for their cohort.

It must have been... it had to be one of these people who did it...

But in the darkness, the file Angie had given him gradually surfaced in his mind. It was written clearly: both Greyhound and Ying Shang had appeared in Central Park on the 14th. Even if the surveillance photos of them entering the park showed only blurry silhouettes, they were direct proof.

There were two more photos following those—the shots of them leaving the park separately.

Without a doubt, Shi Rang, already fixated on "the truth," had ignored their existence.

If a bird attack had occurred in the park, Greyhound could not have walked out of the park on his own.

Yet, Ying Shang had no reason to lie to him. If the bird attack had been a joke, she would have explained it; she knew how earnest he was and never let him worry over a jest.

He had a recording; he had evidence that Ying Shang had spoken of this event...

He had evidence...

Shi Rang fumbled in his pockets, but only felt the fragments of his phone. After enduring so much destruction and upheaval, the data inside was ruined, perhaps beyond repair.

With his habitual stubbornness, he had never dared to copy them elsewhere.

He feared that if he uploaded them to a computer, they would be tampered with; he feared that if he copied them to hardware, they would be swapped out; he feared that the physical photos would be stolen again...

Now, Shi Rang began to doubt his own memory.

Had he truly ever obtained such a recording?

Yes, but assuming the bird attack had actually occurred and served as the absolute link between Greyhound and Ying Shang, why hadn't Angie uncovered it?

Was it possible that his risking life and limb here was merely the paranoia born of a desperate craving for a result to replace that eternal search and waiting?

He thought he was seeking revenge, conducting an investigation, but wasn't he just recklessly throwing his life away in an attempt to end this search?

The other person wandering the factory was likely not the "avenger" of his imagination; perhaps they were just a killer here to settle a score or silence a witness...

Pain invaded Shi Rang’s exhausted brain. Using his last shred of willpower, he dragged his body, stumbling until he finally touched the wall and his foot struck the stairs. Clutching that last, pathetic hope, he began to climb.

Perhaps the wounded man on the stairs would know something.

He had to do something.

As he stepped onto the first stair, Shi Rang heard a noise and a terrified shriek.

The noise came from outside the factory.

The shriek came from the direction he had just come.

The other "intruder" seemed to have caught Greyhound.

***

Greyhound burst through the door of the materials room, fleeing for his life in the darkness.

Hopping on one leg, he escaped with unprecedented speed; the desire to survive spurred him to keep bouncing, and he dared not stop even though his injured leg burned with agony.

Death was chasing him from behind. The anomalous corpse wearing his own face was relentlessly mimicking him. It, too, had a broken leg and was bouncing just like him.

Greyhound hopped once, *thud*. The anomalous corpse hopped once, *thud*.

But on the next jump, the sound changed.

*Thud.* Greyhound landed.

*Thud-thud.* The anomalous corpse landed.

With movements both comical and more agile than his own, it caught up tirelessly.

Greyhound wanted to scream for help, to find the location of the madman from earlier and drag him over to serve as a shield. He hoped even more that the phone call Brother Qiang had made to seek out a "professional" had brought useful reinforcements.

He didn't know if it was a hallucination, but he seemed to hear the sound of a vehicle approaching from afar.

Yes, that had to be the roar of an engine!

The useless cops in Pingyuan City were finally being of some use!

Greyhound turned toward the source of the engine sound, using every ounce of strength to compress his aching leg like a spring before releasing it with a violent jolt.

He leaped to a surprising height, arms outstretched as if he wanted to launch himself directly toward the sound of the vehicle.

He collided with a cluster of cables in the dark.

The limp cables were no longer electrified, but they still retained their toughness. One of them snared Greyhound’s neck, leaving him hanging in the air, his limbs flailing wildly.

His toes occasionally brushed the ground, but he could find no purchase. His injured leg and his sound one swung back and forth like the hands of a clock, twitching.

The anomalous corpse stopped. It came before Greyhound, displaying in the darkness the death mask it had prepared in advance:

Neck tilted to one side, pants soaked, tongue lolling out, face bruised and purple—it was exactly how Greyhound looked now.

Hanging a person took a long time; it was a protracted death, but the anomalous corpse did not intervene to hasten it. It gazed forward with eyes that bulged just like Greyhound's, waiting for the struggle to cease.

A full minute passed, and Greyhound went still.

The anomalous corpse seemed satisfied. Slowly, it turned away from the hanging corpse and lowered the other leg it had been holding suspended at its side.

In the darkness, its face changed once more. Above the tattered blue collar, Shi Rang's face emerged, eyes bloodshot, right forearm missing, and likewise staring with eyes that refused to close in death.

The transformation finished, and the anomalous corpse began to walk.

The first few steps were a walk, but it quickly escalated into a jog. Without warning, it navigated the straight-angled corners in the darkness, bypassed obstacles, and traversed the only clear path through the maze of cables and debris.

Soon, it rushed out of the maze, and before it lay the side exit of the workshop. As it turned, the staircase against the wall leading to the upper corridor appeared.

On the middle of the stairs, a figure was crouching.

Seeming to hear the sound of its approaching footsteps, the figure turned its head, searching blankly into the darkness.

"I'm not one of them," the living Shi Rang said aloud.

The anomalous corpse charged toward the stairs.

It could not comprehend speech, and therefore, from beginning to end, it failed to notice the rapidly intensifying roar of the vehicle.

The moment the anomalous corpse stepped onto the stairs, accompanied by a thunderous crash, two headlights smashed through the wall.