An Li handed over the freshly validated certificate without hesitation.

“I was sent by the provincial authorities. Effective immediately, I’m taking over the case concerning the hundreds of mysterious deaths in Lianyun District, Wuzhou City.”

The officer standing before the car’s expression shifted slightly. He accepted the document, examined it carefully, then exchanged a glance with his colleagues.

“Please wait a moment,” he said, returning the certificate. “I’ll consult the director.”

He returned shortly after.

“Please come in.”

We stepped out of the car and entered. An Li swaggered ahead, dragging a large bag of hazardous materials—no one dared inspect it.

Inside the Investigation Bureau, a crowd had already gathered. The moment they spotted An Li, several hurried over.

“Headquarters kept telling us to wait for instructions and not handle it ourselves,” one said, frustration edging his voice. “We waited days… and hundreds more died. We almost thought they’d abandoned us.”

The lead officer had rushed over first, venting briefly. These bizarre cases had begun weeks ago. Powerless to solve them, they’d requested backup—only to be ordered to stand down, maintain vigilance, and wait.

A month passed. The death toll climbed. Officers who couldn’t stand by any longer took risks… and met tragic ends.

“Xiao Wang, mind your manners,” the middle-aged man who appeared to be the director interjected. “Commander An, let’s discuss this inside.”

Inside lay the media room and archives.

I moved to follow—but a female officer gently blocked me.

“Be a good little sister. Don’t wander off. Come, big sister will play with you for a bit.”

“No! I don’t want to play!” I kicked and squirmed mid-air, struggling desperately. “I need to see the case!”

A few nearby officers chuckled. This little loli who’d somehow tagged along with Commander An brought a flicker of lightness to the police station—a place heavy with tension for over a month.

An Li didn’t glance back. In hindsight, she’d probably anticipated this. That’s why she let me come.

Good thing I, Luo Xiaoxiao, am no mere cute-girl act. I’d foreseen this too—and came prepared!

...

“It began a little over a month ago. The first murder occurred 42 days ago. This was the initial victim.”

Photos were laid on the table, one by one.

Horrifying. The corpse was mutilated beyond recognition, limbs seemingly torn off by brute force.

“And these,” the briefing officer continued, “are records of all 503 confirmed deaths since. There may be more missing persons unaccounted for. Per orders, we didn’t investigate further.”

Beyond the photos, lines of data scrolled across the projector screen. Scenes mirrored the first—equally nauseating.

“Based on our intel,” the officer said, highlighting a line on screen, “this is the sole common thread among all victims.”

An Li glanced sideways slightly. “This commonality is far too generic.”

*Too generic* meant nearly anyone could share it.

Like saying all deceased people are carbon-based lifeforms. Or that every university student knows one plus one equals two.

Too absolute. A sharper analogy: students who fell ill from food poisoning at a school had all eaten plain white rice in the cafeteria that day.

Sounds connected… until you realize it proves nothing.

Here, the link? Every victim had attended promotional events at various shopping malls across Lianyun District.

Too broad. No single mall. Different times, different places.

In Lianyun, stepping out to buy groceries could mean passing a mall hosting an event.

“And what baffles us most,” the officer added, pulling up new images, “is the perpetrator. We still don’t know if it’s one person or many. Only that they always hide inside *these* to commit crimes.”

“One colleague, fearless, tried tearing one open. He lost his life… for nothing. Inside? Only air. No remote-controlled mechanism. It defies logic.”

“Recently,” another chimed in, “some in Lianyun have spread superstition—claiming to be Taoist masters, playing ghost and god.”

An Li nodded. “Mm. Indeed. They’re just playing ghost and god.”

Many groups claim to champion light and justice. None wield power of this systematic nature.

...

“Bro, big bro,” I said, pulling a cigarette from my pocket and offering it to a nearby young officer. “Smoke?”

He burst out laughing. “You little rascal! Bribing at your age? Who taught you that?”

I puffed my chest. “Bribe? It’s just sharing a cigarette!”

Another officer approached, a wry smile on his face, and took the pack. “So young yet already savvy with social tricks? What’ll you be like grown up? But sorry—this is a police station. Someone your age shouldn’t hold cigarettes. We’ll return these to Commander An later.”

He assumed this little loli must’ve swiped them from An Li.