Chapter 317: Inadequate Skill

Zhu Huan tried desperately to look, tried desperately to look… but still could not discern any trace of the "newly cut key" Jiang Yuan had mentioned.

But from Jiang Yuan's expression, Zhu Huan knew he might not be pulling his leg.

Zhu Huan could only shake his head: "This little thief is really shady—rabbits don't eat the grass right beside their burrows, yet he can pick locks with hook picks, so why the hell does he have to target people he knows?"

Jiang Yuan set down his phone and said: "Maybe he's a beginner. First time killing someone, still clumsy—but cautious by nature, so he tried cutting a key first, hoping to save time. The skill of key-cutting might be newly learned… or poorly mastered, or just bad luck. He also wore a hook just in case."

Zhu Huan didn't hear Jiang Yuan's later deductions—he only exclaimed in surprise: "You're working on cold cases?"

"Yes."

"Ah… you're… pretty impressive." Zhu Huan himself often worked on cold cases, using fingerprint comparisons.

But even though Zhu Huan frequently matched fingerprints in cold cases, that didn't make cold cases easy for him.

Fingerprint battles are a special circumstance: experts like Zhu Huan gather together, work under normal daily and occupational conditions, spurred by healthy competition, spending thirty to forty straight days examining hundreds of thousands of fingerprint images—just to possibly match one cold case.

With only 365 days a year, after one fingerprint battle organized by the provincial bureau and another by the ministry, a fingerprint expert's energy is nearly drained.

On ordinary days, when working fingerprints alone, how could he possibly match the intensity of a fingerprint battle? A little laziness, and months would slip away.

Working cold cases by fingerprint analysis is hard enough—doing it through other methods is almost unimaginable.

Zhu Huan had been in the Criminal Investigation Brigade for so many years—he'd seen plenty of cold case work, and precisely because he'd seen so much, he knew just how difficult it was.

Many cold cases are pursued year after year. Some detectives follow their old cases for two, three, five years—until finally, a breakthrough emerges.

But Jiang Yuan isn't even from the Criminal Investigation Brigade—meaning he's just opened a new cold case.

Zhu Huan couldn't help recalling Jiang Yuan's cases from the past few days, weeks, and last month, and his heart tightened: Jiang Yuan is truly terrifying—he's already surpassed Wang Chao.

Regardless of the whirlwind of thoughts in Zhu Huan's mind, Jiang Yuan took off his gloves, pulled out his phone, and called Wan Baoming.

Wan Baoming is Deputy Director of the Forensic Science Center; for key physical evidence in cold cases, he must not only be aware of it but also secure the evidence, arrange for specialists to photograph and document it, and so on.

When Zhu Huan heard Jiang Yuan was calling Wan Baoming, he immediately understood the importance of the physical evidence.

His heart was itching like a cat's claws—he couldn't help asking: "Did you solve the case?"

"No; we're nowhere near that." Jiang Yuan smiled.

Zhu Huan inexplicably sighed in relief—if Jiang Yuan cracked the case right on his face, it would be unbearable.

Zhu Huan said: "Hook picks aren't easy to learn. In the old days, thieves worked for years for their bosses without ever mastering the real technique. Especially single-hook pick manipulation—it requires endless practice."

"Some people have high costs learning skills; others are born with low costs." Jiang Yuan said.

Zhu Huan pondered Jiang Yuan's words and asked: "Do you have a suspect in mind?"

"Not exactly a suspect—this case is about wealthy people." Jiang Yuan smiled.

The warehouse burned down supplied medicine to Jianyuan Pharmaceuticals—its products were classic high-value, low-weight goods.

This large warehouse had only two people: the female boss and the warehouse manager. Yet the killer murdered and burned the bodies without taking any medicine bottles—this wasn't something an ordinary petty thief or poor criminal could do.

From this perspective, the case must involve someone familiar—targeting the female boss's life.

It's highly likely the Yuan family of Jianyuan Company. Only they have motive to kill a mistress.

Of course, according to the current case team's analysis, the killer's original intent was theft—he encountered the female boss, killed her, then abandoned the theft plan and fled. The hook marks inside the lock Jiang Yuan examined are also evidence—the warehouse manager's cousin possesses this skill.

It sounds plausible, but only just plausible.

A seasoned thief planning to steal from the warehouse suddenly encounters a woman weighing less than a hundred catties—and accidentally kills her? That's unprofessional. Killing someone and then fleeing without stealing anything? Even less believable.

The best partner for a crime boss on the run has always been money—even if he decides to flee, the right move is to first exchange something for cash, then escape calmly, comfortably…

Wan Baoming arrived quickly.

Jiang Yuan then explained to him the difference between the marks left by a newly cut key and those left by hook picks.

Wan Baoming didn't fully understand, but Zhu Huan did—and in understanding, he caught a glimpse of Jiang Yuan's forensic capability, falling silent.

Hook pick marks are familiar to everyone—they're simply the scratches and pressure marks left by the hook and tension wrench manipulating the pins.

Marks from a newly cut key are harder to distinguish, especially from a poorly fitted key: some are too small, some too large; oversized keys forcing hard contact naturally leave traces—but these are easily confused with normal key marks and hook pick marks. At such times, one must consider timing and sequence.

Zhu Huan listened and watched, realizing he couldn't tell them apart—the lock pins are tiny, and their sizes aren't fixed; common types include standard pins, cup-shaped deformed pins, and spiral-shaped deformed pins.

In short, Zhu Huan's trace examination skills could handle basic tasks, but he had no qualification to operate in the realm of pin locks—he couldn't even understand them.

His tool mark identification skill was at best level 2. —utterly incapable of gauging Jiang Yuan's true ability.

Wan Baoming was even more direct—he didn't need to understand. After barely hearing it out, he said to Jiang Yuan: "Just make your judgment. What's next?"

"Find the key," Jiang Yuan said. "This lock was removed from the back of the warehouse. The key was always kept by the female boss—never given to the warehouse manager. No such key was found among the evidence. Ask the people close to her—see if they can locate the key, and determine under what circumstances it might have been copied."

Wan Baoming nodded: "In this case, the key was likely copied just before the crime—probably within the weeks leading up to it."

"Highly likely," Jiang Yuan agreed. "Investigate the Yuan family—see who knows hook picks, who knows key-cutting."

"The Jianyuan Yuan family?" Wan Baoming blinked.

"Yes."

"Even if this woman is the Jianyuan boss's mistress… fine, they have motive—but how could the Yuan family learn hook picks?"

"Rich people get bored. Maybe they hired someone to teach them—it wouldn't cost much."

"That… alright. Still feels stupid."

Jiang Yuan smirked. "Don't rich people learn to fly planes? Learn racing? Especially extreme sports—paragliding suits—what good are they? Yet people still rush to learn them."

"Alright, we happen to have someone there." Wan Baoming checked his list and made a call.

According to Changyang City Public Security Bureau standards, Jiang Yuan's cold case team of eighteen people was perfectly suited to investigate a single homicide.

Now deployed, they could be organized on the spot when needed.

Several officers organized themselves and quickly arrived in Qinghe City.

As officers from the Changyang City Criminal Investigation Brigade, they owed Jianyuan no special courtesy. In just half a day, they turned the Jianyuan office district upside down.

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