Chapter 100

Gun-related case!

Jiang Yuan was busy with evidence collection and hadn’t had time to think deeply; only when the half-black bullet landed in the evidence bag did his head begin to buzz.

As a modern police officer, terms like “shooting case” were rarely heard anymore; instead, “gun-related case” was commonly used—and it already spoke volumes.

For grassroots officers, “gun-related” usually meant merely involving firearms, often without even reaching the point of discharge, let alone a fatal shooting.

Even “gun-related” cases had tiers: excluding 2-joule toy guns, the most common were replica guns, then air guns, followed by homemade iron-shot guns, more advanced ones were homemade shotguns, and even higher…

Generally speaking, it couldn’t get much higher. At most, an old firearm would already trigger major attention.

Once “real” firearms were involved, every police unit treated it as a homicide-level case.

All of the above still referred only to “gun-related” cases.

“Real” shootings were unheard of in many places for years; the county bureau’s forensic team had let their ballistics reports gather dust, and technicians had long since switched to clerical duties.

But the bullet Jiang Yuan had retrieved was a genuine, live round.

Thus, the Wu Long wild man case was about to become a genuine shooting case.

Jiang Yuan secured the evidence, then stepped back to the opposite side of the firepit and assumed a one-handed aiming stance, pointing toward the opposite side.

Based on the angle and position of the bullet’s embedment, Jiang Yuan deduced the shooter had been standing and fired through the abdomen of Li Sanqiu, who was seated.

The bullet embedded itself into the cave wall thirty centimeters above ground, then shattered.

Jiang Yuan sighed lightly and searched again around the bullet, but found no further evidence.

The cave walls here contained soil, rocks, plants, insects, fungi, moss, and other substances; it was unrealistic to thoroughly search them in a short time.

Jiang Yuan packed up the tripod and camera, then exited the cave and called out to Liu Jinghui nearby.

Liu Jinghui had gone to climb higher for a view; the guide had come over, but Jiang Yuan gestured to stop him.

He offered no explanation—after working as a detective for a while, one developed strong instincts for confidentiality, especially avoiding leaks to outsiders.

Liu Jinghui looked close, but took over ten minutes to return, having fallen twice, his clothes now filthy beyond recognition.

Still, when he reached Jiang Yuan, he instinctively straightened his shirt before asking: “What did you find?”

“Come inside. You all wait outside.” Jiang Yuan led Liu Jinghui alone into the cave.

Entering from outside, vision suddenly plunged into darkness; it took a moment to adjust.

Jiang Yuan then pulled out the evidence bag containing the bullet and held it up for Liu Jinghui to see.

Liu Jinghui’s pupils instantly dilated, as if his eyes had been damaged by the contrast between the cave’s interior and exterior light.

“You just found this?” Liu Jinghui’s expression remained calm, as if he’d expected it all along.

Sherlock Holmes-type deduction fanatics always operated this way: they alone were allowed to drop shocking revelations; others weren’t permitted to present evidence outside logic…

Jiang Yuan said: “The entire evidence collection process was recorded on camera.”

Jiang Yuan turned on the camera and showed it to Liu Jinghui.

Liu Jinghui glanced only at the bullet’s location, then handed the camera back to Jiang Yuan, stepped to the opposite side of the firepit, and—like Jiang Yuan—gazed across the flames, made two hand gestures, and said slowly: “The shooter was standing.”

“Mm.”

“Then there must have been someone else present.”

“Mm?” Jiang Yuan looked at Liu Jinghui.

“Li Sanqiu was an educated man, fond of seclusion but polite. If only the killer and he were present, when the killer approached, Li would have instinctively stood up to greet him—or at least bowed slightly.” Liu Jinghui speculated: “Only if someone else was beside him, speaking, could the killer enter and shoot down at him from above.”

Jiang Yuan said nothing; he preferred to let evidence speak.

Looking at Liu Jinghui, Jiang Yuan asked: “What now?”

“What’s your suggestion?” Liu Jinghui didn’t mind being interrupted—he now held Jiang Yuan in extremely high regard.

Such critical evidence had eluded three separate attempts to reopen the Wu Long wild man case; that alone spoke volumes.

Jiang Yuan showed no pride, simply saying: “My suggestion is to call for backup. Bring in more people—different numbers mean different approaches.”

“Do you want more on-site investigators? Or trace evidence technicians? Or ballistics specialists?”

“The best would be on-site investigators familiar with ballistics. This bullet definitely needs to go to the lab below—I can’t handle it myself.” Jiang Yuan paused, then added: “The number depends on you; different numbers require different methods.”

“You want obedient ones?”

“As long as they can work. Whether they obey you or not—you don’t get to decide.” Jiang Yuan was fully aware: his rank was too low, his experience too shallow, he was too young, and unfamiliar with local conditions. If the arriving technicians chose to listen, fine; if not, it didn’t matter—he could still conduct his own investigation.

Local detectives handling crime scene investigations were likely average at best. Like those in Ningtai County, they might even miss evidence in a bathroom; you couldn’t expect them to perform flawlessly in complex mountain terrain.

The Guard Is Here

Many people spend their entire lives never achieving a perfect score—not because they don’t want to.

Liu Jinghui easily guessed Jiang Yuan’s thoughts, but he turned serious: “Say exactly what kind of people you want—I’ll do my best to get them for you, no other factors considered. This is a gun-related homicide; we have ample leverage to demand resources.”

“Then get several obedient on-site investigators, one or two who understand ballistics, and thoroughly search the inside and outside of the cave. Also check the ravine. And get a dog—a cadaver dog—to scan the area for possible additional bodies or body parts.” Jiang Yuan scanned the surroundings but made no overly complex requests.

From Jiang Yuan’s perspective, this cave was small enough that a day and night of searching had already been extremely thorough. Though another two days could yield even finer results—even digging down three feet—the discovery of the bullet as a key piece of evidence meant the investigation’s direction should now shift.

But such matters fell under investigative strategy—Liu Jinghui’s natural domain—and Jiang Yuan had no intention of overstepping.

Liu Jinghui quickly clarified his thoughts, nodded, went to retrieve his backpack stored in the cave, pulled out a satellite phone, and signaled the guide to help him find a signal.

Not long after, Liu Jinghui returned, nodded, and said: “People will arrive tonight. The bureau is assembling teams now; another group will come tomorrow or the day after.”

“The ones arriving tonight… won’t be from the township police station, right?” Jiang Yuan asked.

“No, I specifically requested on-site investigators. Liyuan City is right here—they can pull personnel from the municipal and district bureaus quickly.” Liu Jinghui finished, then asked with some excitement: “What’s next? What are you planning to do? Need help?”

“I’ll search the cave floor again. Then check the spot where the body was found this afternoon.” The bullet Jiang Yuan had just found lay near the cave’s lower section—equivalent, in a city home, to the height just above the baseboard and below wall outlets.

At this height, ordinary passersby never examined it closely. Moreover, due to the cold, damp conditions, the cave floor was a habitat for countless organisms.

Liu Jinghui grunted, standing at the cave’s central firepit, observing silently.

“After being shot, Li Sanqiu may have staggered out—or been dragged out. Now that we’re here, we know how drastically different sleeping in a cave is from sleeping outside; the killer likely didn’t want the body, blood, or internal organs to contaminate the cave environment.” Liu Jinghui mused: “So why shoot Li Sanqiu?”

Liu Jinghui looked at Jiang Yuan.

Jiang Yuan stared back at Liu Jinghui.

With no one to play off, Liu Jinghui lost interest and said bluntly: “Anyone who reaches this point, unless they’re a hiker, has problems… But shooting Li Sanqiu? That’s brutal.”

“Killing with a cold weapon is easy to get injured from,” Jiang Yuan said from a forensic perspective.

Online videos often explain: if someone attacks you with a knife, your best strategy is to run—it’s very smart. But few tell attackers this: when you brandish a knife at an ordinary person and leave them no escape, their counterattack can easily injure—or even kill—you.

When forensic experts examine bodies killed by cold weapons, the first thing they distinguish is defense wounds; some corpses show twenty to thirty such wounds, meaning even killing an ordinary person may require dozens of strikes—highly likely to exhaust or cause mistakes in the attacker.

In short, it’s easy to kill someone, but killing someone isn’t easy—and killing without injury demands strategy.

Liu Jinghui understood Jiang Yuan’s point, thought for a moment, and said: “Earlier we said there was a third person by the firepit, meaning the killers outnumbered Li Sanqiu. Also, Li was seated, meaning he didn’t anticipate the attack. With numbers, preparation, and firearms, it at least shows one thing: they had no shortage of ammunition and were skilled with guns.”

“Maybe,” Jiang Yuan said, not seeing evidence but not refuting Liu Jinghui’s theory.

“That’s a minor issue.” Liu Jinghui tapped the firepit with his finger: “The key question is why they abandoned the body so easily. I climbed up earlier and saw that just another one or two hundred meters into the mountains, though difficult, you could dump the body far from the trail—greatly increasing safety and making it nearly impossible for hikers to find.”