Chapter 979: The Strange

Late night.

The night was deep and silent.

In the quiet corridor, only the muffled voices of men could be heard, discussing how to send someone to die.

“This case grows stranger the more we dig,” Liu Jinghui said, one hand resting on a stack of case files, while before him lay an entire room full—enough to fill two or three medium-sized vans.

Wang Chuanxing was buried deep in the boxes, his voice muffled as he replied: “So the previous task force didn’t even restart it—just glanced at it and dropped it?”

“They probably never even reached the strange part,” Huang Qiangmin said calmly from his corner: “Cases like this? No one dares restart them without perfect preparation. But when the chance lands in your hands, you can’t not look.”

Cops understand the power of opportunity better than anyone—they’ve actually seen it.

If a clue emerges in a case like Jianmen Academy, following it up is only natural. There’s nothing problematic about it—when cold cases get new leads, cops investigate immediately.

But this case is genuinely hard to crack.

The moment you dig deeper, the clues vanish.

Even Jiang Yuan’s two new leads—the bloodstain analysis results and the information from Wang Futing—only took two steps further before naturally breaking off.

Jiang Yuan sat upright at a long table, several computer screens in front of him displaying images as he shook his head while watching: “Flying claws are still obscure. Especially after the founding of the PRC—they’ve basically been lost. Those who knew how to use them had no reason to anymore. So when the photos from that day showed marks on the wall, no one recognized them as flying claw marks after someone wiped them twice.”

Liu Jinghui had seen the photos Jiang Yuan mentioned and said: “Without Wang Futing’s confession, no one would’ve recognized those as flying claw marks.”

In the crime scene photos, there were indeed several deep, strip-like marks on the wall of Jianmen Academy—but someone had scuffed them twice with their foot. Under normal circumstances, it was nearly impossible to identify their origin. The key point: no one mentioned flying claws, so standard forensic officers never considered them.

Even Jiang Yuan only looked for flying claw marks after hearing the term “flying claw.”

LV6 tool mark identification was godlike, but it couldn’t make the marks in the photos speak for themselves.

This may have also affected Jiang Yuan’s search for similar cases. If crime scene officers hadn’t taken close-up photos, Jiang Yuan couldn’t have connected them.

Jiang Yuan paused, then briefly explained the flying claw marks as part of case communication: “Flying claw users among river pirates were mostly eliminated after the founding of the PRC. Those who survived prison were under strict surveillance. Very few lived into the 90s, and even fewer could train apprentices. Such men were famous in the Republic era—why would one hire Wang Futing to pick a lock?”

“If you know how to use a flying claw, you can pick locks?”

“Not necessarily, but picking locks is far simpler than using a flying claw. The lock at Jianmen Academy wasn’t high-end—anyone could learn it with a little practice.”

“So it makes no sense for a flying claw user to hire Wang Futing to pick a lock.”

Jiang Yuan confirmed: “It doesn’t make sense.”

Liu Jinghui nodded slowly: “This afternoon I had Meng Chengbiao check. According to Wang Futing’s latest statement, after seeing the flying claw, he went home and grew increasingly uneasy, so he grabbed his pre-packed safety bag and immediately took a train south. He returned over a year later to find his home ransacked, so he moved.”

Huang Qiangmin clicked his tongue: “This guy’s got some brains.”

“Or he’d be dead by now,” Cui Qi added his own judgment: “He might just be the real killer’s scapegoat.”

“That’s actually plausible,” Liu Jinghui said, glancing over—then seeing it was Cui Qi, the bastard, he wiped the smile off his face and continued: “Wang Futing is likely a firewall the real killer set up for himself. He just didn’t expect Wang Futing to be clever enough.”

“Otherwise he wouldn’t have lived until the Duan Da era,” Huang Qiangmin replied. These veteran cops could fully imagine the immense danger hidden in those few lines.

“Too bad Wang Futing didn’t die,” Cui Qi sighed: “If Wang Futing had died, it would’ve proven there was a conspiracy.”

“If Wang Futing had died, there wouldn’t be this case at all,” Tao Lu glared at him.

Cui Qi chuckled: “So Wang Futing dying would be a win-win?”

“He’d be better off dead,” Liu Jinghui replied immediately: “If there really is a conspiracy, eliminating Wang Futing is basic. Only then does the case truly close.”

“So this is essentially reverse proof—that there’s no conspiracy? It’s like a proof by contradiction.”

“Only if the underlying conditions haven’t changed,” Liu Jinghui said, not one to be led by others—he thought deeply: “There’s another possibility: Wang Futing fled faster than expected, or escaped beyond the conspirators’ sphere of influence. Then, when he returned, circumstances might have changed.”

“Sphere of influence?” Cui Qi laughed foolishly: “You mean…”

“Stop that nonsense!” Tao Lu cut him off sharply, forcibly steering the conversation back to the case: “Liu Chu, Jiang Yuan’s earlier judgment was that the Jianmen Academy killer was after money, not people. But now, from what you’re saying, the suspect seems deliberately targeted—more like a personal vendetta than theft.”

Liu Jinghui glanced at Jiang Yuan, then smiled: “As investigations progress and new clues emerge, revised judgments are only natural.”

In other words, Liu Jinghui had rejected Jiang Yuan’s judgment.

Jiang Yuan smiled from the other end of the table: “I’ll defer to Liu Chu’s judgment. When we thought the killer was after money, Duan Da’s Wang Futing hadn’t confessed yet. Now we know his accomplice used a flying claw and paid five hundred yuan to hire Wang Futing to pick a lock—that doesn’t fit a theft motive. But whether it’s personal isn’t clear either. If the killer only wanted to kill Zhang Xiaoya, he wouldn’t need to wait inside Jianmen Academy or rummage through so many items.”

“Rummaging might’ve been to confuse Wang Futing. But if the killer only wanted to kill Zhang Xiaoya, he wouldn’t have chosen Jianmen Academy. Between the factory and his home, there are many better spots—easier to fake as a robbery, effortless to stage. Also, the timing doesn’t fit: Zhang Xiaoya returned home unexpectedly, and not at his usual time.”

Liu Jinghui’s analysis flowed in a steady stream.

Everyone listened and thought, their minds filled with questions.

As Liu Jinghui said, this case was strange at every turn.

“If it’s not theft or personal revenge, it can’t be a love killing. Zhang Xiaoya didn’t seem to have any romantic entanglements,” Wang Chuanxing chimed in, not seeking answers, just adding voice to the discussion.

Liu Jinghui grunted: “Unlikely to be a love killing. If it were, he wouldn’t have hired Wang Futing—he’d have asked a friend.”

The room fell silent again.

They had moved from method of crime to motive.

Traditional criminal investigation methods follow a formula—ultimately, just a few core principles.

The killer used a flying claw—a highly distinctive tool, perfect for river pirates. But river pirates operate constantly, across multiple locations, treating crime as a career.

The suspect in this case clearly doesn’t fit that profile.

Nor does it make sense that a river pirate, after committing murder, would abandon the flying claw—it would be beneath them and contrary to their greatest interest.

River pirates live by “drink today, die tomorrow.”

Those afraid of death, burdened by caution, wouldn’t act this way. Most river pirates don’t die in execution—they die in gang wars.

They’re far more likely to die in nightclubs than in prison.

After the flying claw trail hit a dead end, the motive discussion that followed was a method cops had used countless times.

In summary, murders generally fall into: theft, personal revenge, love, abandonment, superstition, provocation, insanity, or passion. But one by one, all were ruled out.

Twenty-odd cops sat scattered in corners, flipping through files and screens, long minutes passing without a word.

Liu Jinghui had been helping them organize their thoughts.

In fact, his questions and answers were guiding their thinking.

Then Liu Jinghui spoke again: “In that case, we can’t ignore the Zhang family’s role.”