Chapter 983: The Path Turns

Noon.

Police cars returning began to increase noticeably, and the newly cleared investigation center grew busy again.

Most of those brought back weren’t even suspects—they were still civilians—so they were all taken to interview rooms, not interrogation rooms.

Compared to interrogation rooms—the usual term for interrogation chambers—interview rooms were far more comfortable, often with sofas to sit on, water to drink, and even rare smiles from the officers. Here, they weren’t handcuffed, nor were they chained to their chests like with seatbelts—in short, they could still maintain basic human dignity.

Most people who entered the interview rooms simply told their stories from years ago and completed a statement; those with questions would continue giving statements, questioned repeatedly, gradually edging toward interrogation.

Bringing people to the police station for questioning was about enforcing the seriousness of the process.

When a person was at home, at work, or outdoors, they habitually lied freely, as if lying cost nothing.

In fact, it often didn’t cost anything—but at the police station, it was different.

Every word spoken in the police station was recorded, repeatedly questioned, gently probed further, then sharply interrogated.

A few who had already relocated elsewhere were also questioned at their local police stations—the rule being: minor cases by phone, major cases in person. The Jianmen Academy case was a well-known major case for the Jingcheng Bureau; officers sent to fetch suspects were so cautious even with phone calls, fearing they’d alert the culprit.

The effect was… negligible.

“Without other leads, just the victim’s coworkers and the Feihuang Tengda connection, this is the only list we can narrow down to,” Wang Chuan handed Jiang Yuan a thin list.

The list still had six names—simply put, these were the six coworkers of Zhang Xiaoya with unexplained massive wealth.

“What were the investigation results?” Jiang Yuan knew these six had already been questioned.

“No clear evidence,” Wang Chuan shook his head slightly, signaling this round of screening had been all noise and no substance.

Jiang Yuan felt a flicker of disappointment. In his criminal investigation career, this was, neither big nor small, a failure.

Liu Jinghui spotted it at once and smiled: “Finding a lead and checking it out without reaching a conclusion is normal. If this screening yields nothing, just move on to the next lead.”

Jiang Yuan glanced at Liu Jinghui.

Liu Jinghui froze, then understood: “Right—we don’t have a second lead anymore. Haha, when I work with you, I rarely run into situations like this.”

“So you often encounter similar situations?” Jiang Yuan caught the implication.

Liu Jinghui smiled: “I’d say half the cases I’ve been involved in are like this. Nowadays, the criminal investigation teams only call me when their cases stall and the forensic team has no ideas left.”

“Is that true?”

“Everyone loves forensic technicians,” Liu Jinghui shot Jiang Yuan a sidelong glance.

In truth, forensic technicians clearly weren’t among the favored group. If detectives had endless cases, then the technical staff among them had endless paperwork to fill.

In short, wherever there was a shortage, they were sent.

Of course, forensic technicians were slightly more favored than those doing pure deduction.

Jiang Yuan never got to experience this differential treatment—or rather, as a county forensic doctor, since his posting began, aside from a dirty, messy work environment, his interpersonal relations had always been relatively smooth. His superiors valued him, and those he worked with respected forensic doctors.

Jiang Yuan asked: “When you encountered this before, how did other detective teams usually handle it?”

“Detective teams vary by region. In places like Longli County, where things are tight, you just smoke—any kind of cigarette, quantity over quality. Smoke enough, your brain gets a jolt, and maybe you’ll think of something,” Liu Jinghui described with experience: “Personally, I prefer hot pot—spicier the better.”

“Does eating spice make your mind clearer?” Wang Chuan cautiously absorbed the secret.

Liu Jinghui shook his head: “I just like hot pot.”

Wang Chuan rolled his eyes.

“But…” Liu Jinghui smiled, adding: “Taking a break is always good—refresh your mind, things like that.”

“Let’s get something good to eat. Hot pot takes too long—go for dry pot instead. All kinds of dry pots. Order a lot.” Jiang Yuan chose one option.

Compared to solving the case, this was clearly much easier.

Soon, the scent of steaming hot pot filled the Criminal Investigation Brigade building—Jiang Yuan, a native of Jiangcun, didn’t hesitate to treat everyone at others’ expense.

Tao Lu clearly couldn’t be the culprit, so after a long day’s work, the detectives stopped pretending to be busy and enthusiastically devoured dry pots in the cafeteria.

At that moment, a low-key Audi A6 drove into the courtyard of the Criminal Investigation Brigade.

By the time Tao Lu received the news, the person was already inside.

“The bureau chief is here. Director You,” Tao Lu barely had time to call Jiang Yuan.

The Criminal Investigation Brigade had its own separate office space; such operational units rarely hosted visitors.

But when a superior occasionally showed up and saw everyone feasting, it was slightly nerve-wracking.

Tao Lu exchanged a few words, then quickly explained: “Everyone’s been working for days, on 24-hour standby. Morale’s low. We’re treating them to something good.”

“Your mess hall’s doing well,” Director You smiled, his expression unreadable: “How’s the Jianmen Academy case progressing?”

“Still under screening,” Tao Lu couldn’t say the leads had dried up and everyone was recovering with food.

Director You grunted: “Any problems you need me to solve?”

Tao Lu hesitated, then said: “Not at the moment.”

Although it was rare for a superior to offer help, Tao Lu genuinely had no resource needs.

The case’s progress wasn’t being blocked by resources.

Upon hearing this, Director You’s brow furrowed. He clearly sensed Tao Lu’s unease—if this were a victorious force charging forward, someone would’ve asked for better conditions by now.

“Where’s Jiang Yuan?” Director You immediately sought a more effective respondent.

“He’s coming right away,” Tao Lu signaled his subordinate, who promptly rushed off to warn him.

A moment later, Jiang Yuan arrived with several others, each carrying PADs and case files.

Director You saw them and waved his hand with a smile: “I don’t ask about case details—I’ve been off the frontline for a long time. Just tell me: can this case continue? Should we push forward or hit the brakes?”

He fixed Jiang Yuan with a heavy, oppressive gaze.

Jiang Yuan, having just finished his dry pot, patted his stomach, fell silent for a full minute, then said: “Since you asked, I actually have a hypothesis. Originally, I wanted to verify other options before discussing this one… but now, all other options have already been ruled out…”

“Jiang Team Leader,” Liu Jinghui, recalling their earlier discussion, couldn’t help but warn Jiang Yuan—mentioning politics…

Jiang Yuan shook his head slightly at him: “We’ve always suspected the killer might already be dead.”

“Huh?” Not just Director You, but Liu Jinghui and others also froze—this answer differed from what they’d previously discussed.

Jiang Yuan clearly had pondered this for some time; he spread his hands: “The killer used a flying claw—it’s a highly advanced skill, yet never used again afterward, which feels wasteful. Second, our screening has been extremely thorough, yet we still haven’t found anyone. That’s likely because we’ve only been screening living people…”

“Any evidence?” Director You was sharp—he knew subordinates wouldn’t voice pure speculation at his level.

Jiang Yuan nodded, gestured for Wang Chuan to produce a photo, and handed it to Director You: “While everyone was screening people these past two days, I’ve been reviewing photos, specifically asking for many photos of factory workers—especially those showing hands. I also researched flying claw techniques.”

Jiang Yuan continued: “Training a flying claw is grueling. Certain spots on the hand develop calluses, and these calluses are nearly impossible to eliminate. Like students who study hard—they develop calluses on the first joint of their middle finger, and even after twenty or thirty years, they don’t fade. Flying claw training is much the same.”

Jiang Yuan pointed to a young man in the photo: “This photo isn’t very clear, but we don’t have others. Wang Chuan’s team is investigating this person, but it’ll take a while.”

“How long?” Director You asked directly.

“The time it takes to eat a hot pot,” Jiang Yuan didn’t overpromise.

“Bring me a hot pot—I’ll have some too,” Director You sat down heavily, suddenly radiating an approachable air.