Besides the four victims' photos, several others adorned the wall. Officer Sun immediately knew—they were the killer's next targets.
After waiting long, the two policemen and the landlord sent out hadn't returned. Calls went unanswered. Sun rushed to the scene with reinforcements.
At a parking lot, he found the two policemen's bodies—their throats slit with surgical precision, service pistols still holstered, dark blood pooling beneath.
At the landlord's home, the place was ransacked. The landlord was stabbed to death. This time, River North's Severed Blade abandoned his miraculous methods, panicked, desperate to erase traces. Grandfather's clues had been right.
Sun regretted his lapse. When grandfather arrived, he ordered everyone out, sealed the room—a wuzuo (ancient Chinese forensic arts) trance-state requiring absolute stillness to commune with the dead. After one hour, he opened the door.
Acrid smoke coiled—mugwort and wormwood burning in a wuzuo ritual. On the floorboards, crimson footprints appeared like spectral wounds, converging toward a bloody palm print smeared on the wall.
With footprints and palm prints, new clues emerged—the killer's height, weight, fingerprints, habitual movements, even his shoes.
Sun mobilized all forces, working nonstop. Surveillance footage from a mall captured the killer—face hidden beneath a cap—but a woman closely accompanied him.
Following the lead, police found the woman—a textile factory worker, likely his wife or girlfriend.
But when Sun arrived, she was dead. Her heart lay gleaming on the kitchen counter—the killer's final sacrament to erase his humanity.
...
Grandfather cornered the killer twice, yet the police failed to capture him. It was an invisible duel, each side winning and losing.
The police proved River North's Severed Blade was no god—he had weaknesses. He could be defeated.
The task force threw all energy into the chase.
Then officers were killed one after another—five in total—each heart extracted intracorporeally, through unbroken thoracic cavities, without external wounds.
At this crisis, grandfather announced his withdrawal. Sun was furious and argued with him.
Without grandfather, the case stalled and went cold.
Sun's ashtray was thick with smoke as he spoke.
Suddenly, a chilling memory surfaced.
Ten years ago, River North's Severed Blade came to see grandfather.
I was seven then. Peeking through the frosted windowpane, I saw grandfather slide a bone-handled knife across the table—the twin blade to the killer's.
What they spoke of, I never knew.
Ten years later, why had River North's Severed Blade returned? To kill grandfather?
Was he the original killer—or his heir?
The case was shrouded in fog; the truth remained hidden.
I asked Sun, "The fat man who died last night—was that Zhang Bao, the one who escaped ten years ago?"
He nodded.
"I think I understand. River North's Severed Blade has thrown this impossible challenge at grandfather again."
"Oh? Did your grandfather crack the killer's method before he died?" Sun asked.
I shook my head.
He sighed, placing a heavy hand on my shoulder.
"Xiao Yang, your grandfather's death is partly my fault. If I hadn't called him back, he wouldn't have tangled with River North's Severed Blade. Now he's gone, focus on school and forget this. But I will chase this case forever. One day, you'll get your answer."
"Officer Sun, I have a request."
"Speak."
"If River North's Severed Blade strikes again, tell me. I want to catch him myself."
Sun hesitated.
"But..."
"My grandfather cornered him once—Song family secrets are his weakness. He taught me everything. I must bring him to justice."
"You don't trust the police?"
I said nothing.
Sun laughed.
"You're stubborn like old Song! When the blade resurfaces... it'll be your hunt."
Outside, neon lights bled across wet asphalt. Somewhere in Jiangbei's shadows, a whetstone scraped against steel.