Chapter 53: Yin Law Cui Pan Guan

The case procedure was simple.

But there were two points of suspicion.

The first was the weapon used by the killer; Wu Xian couldn’t identify exactly what it was, only deduce it was some kind of sharp blade.

The second was the method of death.

The deaths of the father, mother, wife, and daughter closely matched the killer’s confession from this morning’s mental evaluation—this was no coincidence, but deliberate.

And just before leaving work, Wu Xian had learned that the suspect had escaped from prison.

The senior detective quickly gave Wu Xian an explanation.

Moments later.

Wu Xian had long assisted in psychiatric evaluations and was practically one of their own; the entire investigation bureau felt deep sympathy for him, so the senior detective used his authority to help him out.

“What kind of life do I even have left?”

It seemed he wouldn’t get anything useful from the senior detective—he needed to find a chance to “borrow” some files.

He watched the detectives’ investigative process with keen interest.

The detective patted Wu Xian’s shoulder with pity.

“Don’t worry, Doctor. We’ll catch the killer for you.”

Whether it was the hospital.

The senior detective returned and spoke solemnly to Wu Xian.

So Wu Xian sat down on a clean sofa.

Wu Xian was utterly stunned.

Wu Xian stood at the door, thinking for a long while.

Wu Xian felt considerably lighter—he realized Xu Ming’s family didn’t want their corpses left lying on the floor like this.

“Then come to the investigation bureau. I’ll appoint you as detective chief and put you in charge of this case.”

“What the hell?”

Merely observing these people’s investigative methods gave Wu Xian a sense of professional superiority.

Wearing a black official cap, girded with rhinoceros horn, holding a ceremonial tablet, clad in silk robes, his face dark and bearded, one hand clutching the Book of Life and Death, the other holding the Soul-Stealing Pen, his feet crushing a pile of mixed flesh and bones.

Or the investigation bureau and the streets and alleys.

Just as he hesitated, a flash of text appeared in his vision.

Wu Xian’s eyes flickered.

None yielded results.

Could this be a coincidence?

The senior detective shook his head.

【You found a clue to avenge your family and accepted the detective chief’s invitation. You will report to the investigation bureau tomorrow morning, determined to capture the true killer as soon as possible.】

To Wu Xian, appointing a victim’s family member as detective chief made no logical sense—it was absurd, ridiculous, an impossible fantasy.

“Fine! I’ll report tomorrow morning!”

Wu Xian didn’t even know how to complain—what kind of law enforcement agency just leaves a survivor of a mass murder at the crime scene and walks away?

He didn’t wait long.

“I’ve seen that look before. I know you won’t let the killer go… If you’re willing to abandon your current life, I can give you a chance at revenge.”

From Journey to the West, Chapter Ten.

All three statues looked identical.

It stated that beyond the sixteen deities, statues were rare and often tied to the special rules of the Blessed Lands.

“That’s not right either.”

Wu Xian, with no other choice, agreed, watching the fat senior detective drive away.

The appearance of Cui Pan Guan.

The senior detective’s face changed slightly: “He… he’s disappeared.”

“Based on my real-world investigations, the world inside the Blessed Land is just as real as the real world…”

Is the killer the same man he evaluated this morning?

“That’s why the streets are so monotonous…”

This was the legal explanation.

Wu Xian secretly rubbed his eyes with an onion, leaned close to the senior detective, and sobbed out his tragic story.

With the investigation complete.

Wu Xian, eyes red, asked for information on the prime suspect: “I heard the man I evaluated this morning escaped prison—can you tell me his name?”

He feigned grief, pointing at the blood-splattered room, biting his lip and growling.

This is the Earth Official—Yin Law Cui Pan Guan.

These people’s investigative methods were completely unlike reality; many procedures didn’t resemble professional work at all, but rather the half-baked ideas of an amateur writer.

But even after the explanation, Wu Xian still found it far-fetched.

This time.

Wu Xian abandoned the idea of asking further.

A stout detective with silver stars on his uniform entered—he must have been the leader of these officers; in any orderly society, the murder of a family of four was a major case.

Everything in this Blessed Land didn’t seem naturally developed—it was more like a virtual world crudely generated by an amateur with only basic settings!

This amateur didn’t understand medicine, didn’t understand how to investigate, and didn’t understand the world in any meaningful way.

Wu Xian finally realized where his persistent sense of unease came from.

He dialed the Blessed Land’s emergency number: 333.

The reality was, the investigation bureau was severely short-staffed, and the detective in charge of this case had vanished—they urgently needed personnel. If Wu Xian didn’t join, the case might be shelved indefinitely.

Wu Xian frowned: Why did this world protect criminal information so excessively?

He wasn’t satisfied and asked again: “What about the detective from this morning? Can I speak with him?”

He planned to clean the room first—without tidying up the crime scene, he wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight.

The detectives gradually left, all of them departing in Wu Xian’s bewildered gaze.

The world’s legal system encouraged investigators to stand on the victim’s side, and no one could empathize with the victim better than the victim themselves—so victims were often encouraged to join the manhunt.

Or the family.

But now it seemed this Blessed Land wasn’t free at all!

Every one of his actions felt guided by a massive unseen hand, pushing him onto a predetermined path—he seemed to have choices, but every step was already arranged.

Wu Xian had to try obtaining official information; otherwise, he couldn’t quickly avenge the doctor’s family.

A purple sandalwood long table suddenly appeared, bearing three statues, three incense sticks for the deities, a red candle holder, and a lighter in case Wu Xian couldn’t light the sacred incense.

But no matter the truth.

With the corpses covered in white sheets.

Only now.

Does this indicate that this Blessed Land’s rules differ greatly from those of other Blessed Lands?

Cui Pan Guan.

“That’s it?”

Several police cars arrived; officers in black uniforms dragged away the bodies, while the forensic team began photographing, collecting fingerprints, and gathering evidence.

A while later.

The senior detective took a deep breath, as if making a difficult decision.

But when he turned around, he saw the three statues!

In the center of the living room.

He had always assumed this Blessed Land was highly free, unlike the last one, where movement was severely restricted.

“Cui Pan Guan…”

Cui Pan Guan was not among the common sixteen statues, which reminded Wu Xian of Qi Zhiyong’s notes.

“No, not necessarily—perhaps it’s a copycat crime.”

The Emperor looked up and saw the man: wearing a black official cap, girded with rhinoceros horn. The cap’s ribbons fluttered softly; the rhinoceros horn belt gleamed with gold trim. He held a ceremonial tablet radiating auspicious mist, clad in silk robes shimmering with divine light.

His feet were shod in white-soled boots, stepping through clouds and mist; he carried the Book of Life and Death, inscribing fate and death. His hair was wild and tangled above his ears; his beard flew wildly beside his cheeks. Once a minister of the Tang Dynasty, now he presides over the underworld for the King of Hell.

(End of Chapter)