Chapter 197: Armor

Zhangshan Town.

This is a traditional town of Qinghe City, with only two streets forming a cross—just as it was 40 years ago, so it remains today.

In fact, compared to 20 years ago, Zhangshan Town has become even more desolate.

Half of the shops on the street are closed. The ones still open look exactly as they did two or three decades ago.

Jiang Yuan and the others walked to a small supermarket, entered to inspect it, and the curtain at the door felt like it had been there for 20 years.

It was as if time had frozen here, aged it, yet left it uncollected, unsellable.

"Boss, do you have a backyard?" Mu Zhiyang asked, his face expressionless, serious.

If you want to smile now, there'll be plenty of places to smile later.

The supermarket owner didn't seem easy to talk to—he glanced at the police walking the streets and asked, "What are you looking for?"

"If you really want to ask, let's take a formal statement." Mu Zhiyang snapped open his statement notebook.

"There's a backyard—go take a look." The owner quickly waved his hand.

"Do you have three-phase power?" Mu Zhiyang went inside, following the wires.

What they were actually searching for wasn't the murderer, but the location where the dismemberment occurred.

As the saying goes, the monk may run, but the temple won't— the dismemberment site must be closely tied to the killer. Especially in cases like this, where the body was cut into fine pieces, the killer would only do it in a place he considered safe and where he felt strong control.

Because it takes time and physical effort.

If someone caught him halfway through, he couldn't possibly explain it away— he couldn't say, like some suspect in a past case, "I cut up the body, but I didn't kill him… I woke up and found my husband dead— maybe he overdosed on sleeping pills last night…"

So dismemberment almost always happens in isolated, private settings.

If it's a shared rental apartment—even with a private bathroom—it wouldn't be used for dismemberment, certainly not for finely chopped dismemberment. An expert here could argue: the higher the housing price-to-income ratio, the higher the average quality of life, and the lower the rate of dismemberment.

Jiang Yuan followed into the supermarket's backyard and saw no equipment or location suitable for dismemberment.

Mu Zhiyang still asked a couple of questions: "Do you have a power saw… an axe… let me see…"

One shop done, move to the next—progress was slow, painfully dull.

Jiang Yuan walked silently beside them, watching.

Fundamentally, Jiang Yuan strongly disliked this kind of systematic search.

It was like the brute-force method in mathematics—no elegance at all.

You just look one by one, count one by one.

The greatest danger in this whole case is getting the scope wrong; the biggest mistake is missing something.

And the hardest part is that you almost certainly cannot complete a flawless inspection.

Now, the decision seemed handed over to fate—the most unreliable thing of all.

Next to the small supermarket was a greasy spoon, then a shop selling fly spray and rat poison, followed by several empty storefronts in a row.

The weather, dry enough to evaporate a reservoir, quickly made the investigating officers feel unbearably hot.

Another detective beside them couldn't help muttering: "So many shops, none have air conditioning. How can anyone be a customer without AC? Who'd sit down to eat in this heat?"

"Can't afford it," said the auxiliary police officer from the town station. "People here sell a bowl of noodles and barely make enough to cover the AC bill."

"Ah, even if things are bad here, they're still better than us… I'll go get some water." The heat made speaking feel like a waste of saliva—luckily, the city bureau had provided plenty of mineral water, with dispensers set up along both sides of the road.

Jiang Yuan, Mu Zhiyang, and the auxiliary police officer continued walking, and the officer added: "Age is a decent starting point. The killer must have the strength to kill and move the bodies— all the victims were large and heavy."

"But didn't he cut them up?"

"He couldn't have done it right there," Jiang Yuan said, arriving at the front of a farm machinery cooperative.

The door was locked, with a phone number posted on the sign.

The auxiliary police officer banged on the door and shouted: "Old Wang! Old Wang!"

After several shouts, a voice replied from inside: "Coming… I was sleeping…"

The door opened, and the smell of engine oil mixed with pesticides hit them.

Inside were several machines, clearly maintained, but clearly old.

The owner, around forty to fifty, was young by Zhangshan Town's standards.

He looked physically strong—wearing a work uniform with multiple pockets, and a screwdriver he could pull out instantly was more dangerous than an ordinary fruit knife.

"What are you doing?" the auxiliary police officer asked.

The owner replied: "Getting ready to head out. Just tidying up."

The auxiliary police officer turned to Jiang Yuan and Mu Zhiyang: "This place rents out farm machinery—trucks, water pumps, threshers, etc."

Mu Zhiyang grew slightly more alert, his hand resting on his holster, and asked: "We're from Qinghe City Police Bureau… what's your name?"

As he spoke, he sized up the man with a cop's gaze.

Of all the shops they'd visited today, this one best matched the suspect's profile.

"Wang Guoshan. This is my shop." The owner smiled; his skin, baked by the sun, bore the marks of a hard life.

"How many people work here?"

"Just me."

"This big a place, just you?"

"I rent out farm machinery. When someone needs it, I drive over to help. Can't afford to hire anyone now."

Seeing the owner answer smoothly and without excessive tension, Mu Zhiyang relaxed a little and said: "Labor costs really are high these days… Mind if we check the backyard?"

Wang Guoshan said: "The backyard's a mess…"

"We have to check everywhere," the auxiliary police officer urged. "We'll be done right after."

All the shops on this street were similar: storefront in front, courtyard and residence behind.

Wang Guoshan didn't hesitate long and led the three into the backyard.

The backyard had a cement floor; three single-story rooms faced the front, and on the right stood a color-coated steel shed, housing a large-wheeled tractor.

The yard was clean, not messy as the owner claimed, and showed no signs of habitation like the previous homes.

Jiang Yuan asked: "You don't live here, do you? Where's your home?"

"I live with my wife."

"Where's that?"

"You wouldn't know—it's a small place." Wang Guoshan smiled.

The auxiliary police officer remembered him: "Old Wang's a son-in-law from Jianjiang. Their place has a lot of rules."

Mu Zhiyang snapped to attention, turned, and immediately placed his hand back on his holster: "Which part of Jianjiang?"

Wang Guoshan glanced at Mu Zhiyang's gun and said: "Lichang Town, Jianjiang."

The auxiliary police officer here, from the town station, didn't know the case details—Mu Zhiyang nearly drew his weapon.

At that moment, the auxiliary police officer continued in the same sequence: "Do you have a cutting machine here?"

"No cutting machine."

"What about a chainsaw?"

"Chainsaw… yeah, I've got one—sometimes I use it to cut through hills. I'll show you." Wang Guoshan turned and walked toward the vehicle shed.

Mu Zhiyang froze for a second, then reacted instantly, shouting: "Stop!"

Wang Guoshan ignored him, sprinted into the shed, and climbed onto the tractor.

Mu Zhiyang yanked his gun out and pointed it at Wang Guoshan: "Stop, or I'll shoot! Stop!"

Wang Guoshan got in, started the engine, and accelerated rapidly.

Mu Zhiyang hesitated, then, only after the tractor had fully started, fired a shot into the air.

Bang.

The sharp sound drew the attention of many officers.

Whirrr…

Wang Guoshan drove the tractor straight toward Mu Zhiyang.

Mu Zhiyang spread his legs slightly, gripped the gun with both hands, and aimed at Wang Guoshan.

"Don't kill him," Jiang Yuan quickly warned.

Mu Zhiyang knew well—shooting Wang Guoshan dead now would only make things worse.

So he fired another shot into the air, aiming the barrel at the tractor's cabin, trying to force him to stop.

Wang Guoshan didn't even look—he stomped the accelerator and charged forward.

In that instant, Mu Zhiyang looked like an infantryman trying to stop an armored vehicle with his bare body.

Jiang Yuan grabbed him and yanked him back.

Wang Guoshan sharply turned the tractor's front wheels, sweeping them across Mu Zhiyang's lower leg.

Then the tractor smashed through the backyard's iron gate and sped out of town.

Mu Zhiyang let out a delayed cry: "Ah!"

The detective who had gone to fetch water and lost at least a third-class merit had timed his arrival perfectly—he arrived to see the chaos on the ground and stood there stunned.