Chapter Sixty-Six: The Real Me and That Other Self

No one paid attention to his delirious mutterings, no one cared for his madness. They stepped aside, opening a path, granting him the shortest route to the surveillance room.

Jie Hongbo gazed at the indifferent faces around him, his heart pounding with sudden dread, anxiety seizing him. He rose slowly, but even his deliberate movements did not seem to be an attempt to stall for time. He knew that, no matter how much he delayed—even until this time next year—the journey to the surveillance room was unavoidable.

He approached hesitantly, the dim light from the corridor spilling into the surveillance room. No one bothered to turn on the lights inside; the reason was unclear. But the glow from the corridor only made the interior appear more sinister.

His foot touched the threshold, and the sticky sensation beneath made him frown. In the next instant, his face turned pale as ash.

He saw his secretary there, the one who had followed him everywhere, handling countless matters large and small. Now, the secretary lay sprawled on the floor, his mouth sunk into someone’s flesh, his body and limbs torn apart. His clothes had long since sunk into the pool of blood, and his naked lower torso—within its crimson, tender cavity—was stuffed with a hand, whose owner was unknown.

That hand had ripped apart most of the viscera, puncturing the thin layer of skin. Pale yellow human fat, blended with blood, clung to the hand.

As for the other three, their conditions were even more horrific.

One had his facial features erased, achieved by teeth and fingertips. Another’s bones were painted in vibrant colors, as if smeared with children’s paints brought from somewhere, applied with hair and clothing. The third was unrecognizable, scattered everywhere and nowhere at all.

“How did this happen…how could it…” His lips trembled. He had thought this was merely an event for gilding his reputation, a situation orchestrated by his family to wash away the stain of his incompetence and the death of his teammate years ago.

But how could it—how could everything have turned out like this!

It was supposed to be a case resolved by simple psychological factors…they even believed in that child! This small place was just as inept as it had been decades ago…

What happened? What happened?

Blood and froth dribbled from his mouth, landing on his neck and jolting him from his memories.

He turned to the crowd, his eyes bloodshot: “No…no…this was just an accidental death caused by psychological factors! Everyone should receive more psychological counseling and training!”

But at that moment, not a single person responded. All his subordinates, the driver he brought, his employees—none spoke.

They stared at this middle-aged man, blood and saliva dripping from his mouth, his hair disheveled, and slowly stepped back.

“Today’s events—I will report them truthfully to the higher-ups. Because of your erroneous command, your misjudgment, you have caused the most serious case of police casualties in history.” Jiang Hongyun was panting, his gun already holstered.

“It wasn’t me…” Jie Hongbo murmured, as if convincing himself, gaining a bit of confidence: “It wasn’t me! None of this was my doing!”

He looked at the crowd, his eyes red from earlier beatings: “You don’t believe me, do you…you think that little brat is the savior, is that it?”

Before he could finish, he broke into a run, dashing down the police station corridor until he reached the evidence storage room.

The officer guarding the door looked surprised, but before he could utter a word, Jie Hongbo shoved him aside and charged in.

“Where is it…where is it! Tell me!” He rummaged through the neatly arranged evidence, spewing curses toward the doorway.

He cursed the man’s relatives, from grandmother to grandfather, then from grandfather to child.

The officer’s expression soured at the barrage of foul language.

“What are you looking for?”

“The damn stick I had you store this afternoon!” Spittle and flecks of blood sprayed the guard’s face.

The guard stepped back two paces, his face impassive: “You came and took it four minutes ago yourself. Are you…are you alright?” His tone was cold, his eyes tinged with disdain. He pointed to the nearby surveillance camera and the signature log.

“What do you mean?” Jie Hongbo froze at the gesture.

“You signed your name yourself, the camera recorded your face. Are you alright?”

He stared at the log, sweat dripping in large beads from his face.

“Impossible…impossible…absolutely impossible…”

He muttered, stepping up to the document, staring at the ugly handwriting, then at the photograph on the screen taken at the time. A hot surge welled up within him, and he collapsed straight backward.

…

When Jiang Wan arrived, and after she heard the course of events, her lips twitched.

She turned, walked into the corridor outside the evidence storage room, and peered out at the street. Sure enough, the figure was no longer in its original position.

Chen Qing was seated at an ice cream stand, cheerfully waving up at her.

“That kid…”

How could she forget that the other possessed a relic capable of altering one’s appearance?