Chapter 13: High‑Tech Crime Methods

"This could very well be a kind of high‑tech crime we haven't encountered before!" Professor Chen said.

High‑tech crime?

The term left everyone stunned.

"Professor, what type of high‑tech crime do you think it might be?" Qin Zhixia cast an inquisitive gaze.

"Hypnosis." Professor Chen's speech was not fast, but each word carried weight, "An extremely sophisticated deep hypnosis. At a certain point, the killer had already implanted a psychological suggestion into Liu Guodong and Zhao Wei. And the 'heartbeat sound' that kept appearing in the testimony is the trigger switch for the hypnosis!"

He paused briefly, then continued explaining his theory.

"This 'switch' is likely a special‑frequency infrasound. Normal people can't hear it, but for a target implanted with a specific psychological suggestion, it acts as a Death Summoning Talisman. Once triggered, the target begins to experience a series of hallucinations, their mind eroded by self‑doubt and fear until it completely collapses."

"What about death?" Wrench immediately asked, "Hallucinations don't kill people!"

"Perhaps it's an unknown neurotoxin with a delayed‑effect mechanism," Professor Chen mused for a moment, his hypothesis growing bolder:

"While hypnotizing, the killer also somehow caused the target to ingest the toxin. The toxin lies dormant in the body, and only when the target's mind collapses and physiological indicators reach a certain threshold does it erupt, acting directly on the cardiac center to cause sudden death!"

The entire conference room erupted in a roar.

This theory is downright sci‑fi!

Yet it perfectly wraps all paranormal phenomena inside a "scientific" shell.

Especially now, as we approach the mid‑21st century, nations are racing in an arms buildup to prepare for a likely third world war, and it is said they have secretly developed many weapons beyond ordinary knowledge.

Therefore, it's not impossible!

"To master deep hypnosis, infrasound technology, and a new neurotoxin simultaneously..." Xiao Zhang felt a chill on his scalp, muttering softly, "What kind of omnipotent figure could access such technologies?"

At that moment, Professor Chen suddenly looked at Qin Zhixia, "How's the suspect screening going?"

Qin Zhixia pulled up another file, and the projection displayed Chu Che's warm, handsome face.

"At present, only he possesses the strongest motive and suspicion for the crime."

"A doctor from Jiang Hai City's Second Hospital, Chu Che. His mother died back then because her heart condition was seized by the powerful, similar to Zhou Xiaosheng's situation. According to our investigation, Chu Che had direct contact with Liu Guodong and Zhao Wei."

Professor Chen stared at Chu Che's data on the screen, his gaze growing increasingly profound.

"A top‑tier surgeon, well‑versed in the human body. A person who, after a massive trauma, has perfectly suppressed and hidden all emotions..."

He spoke slowly, analyzing Chu Che's psychology.

"These years, he has been like a precisely operating machine—calm, flawless, without a single error. Yet the longer he suppresses, the larger the black hole in his heart becomes. If, at this moment, he suddenly acquires a powerful force capable of fulfilling his notion of 'justice'..."

"He would definitely use it."

Professor Chen's conclusion sent a chill through everyone present.

A high‑IQ, high‑action madman whose heart burns with vengeance and may wield advanced technology.

This is absolutely every police officer's nightmare.

"But we have no concrete evidence!" Xiao Zhang said dejectedly, spreading his hands, "We've been watching him twenty‑four hours a day for days; this guy's routine is as regular as a retired senior official—work, off‑work, home, a two‑point line, he doesn't even order takeout! We can't catch any slip‑up!"

"I need an opportunity."

Professor Chen suddenly spoke, his eyes blazing as he looked at Qin Zhixia.

"An opportunity to have a relaxed conversation with him. I don't need to obtain legally admissible criminal evidence; I just need, through dialogue, to determine whether he is indeed the person we're looking for!"

"Once we can confirm, we can allocate resources, apply for the highest‑level surveillance on him, and then gradually gather evidence!"

Professor Chen's words left everyone deep in thought.

Qin Zhixia was silent for a moment, then suddenly lifted her head.

"I... have an opportunity."

She faced the group's puzzled gazes and spoke.

"He and I have a date next Saturday—to see a musical."

With those words, the air in the conference room solidified.

Xiao Zhang's mouth opened wide enough to fit an egg: "Qin, Qin Team... are you... preparing to soften him with love?"

"Get lost!" Qin Zhixia's cheek unusually flushed with a hint of red, but it was quickly replaced by professional coldness, "This is currently the only way to get close to him without raising his guard!"

She exchanged a glance with Professor Chen, took a deep breath, and made her decision.

"... Let's do it this way."

"Wrench, immediately prepare the smallest one‑way communication earpiece! When the time comes, Professor Chen will be behind, guiding my questioning in real time!"

"This time, we must tear off his Mask!"

West of the city, an old residential complex.

The night was as black as ink, completely swallowing this city‑forgotten corner.

A black Jinbei van lurched and parked crookedly at the entrance of the housing estate.

The door swung open, and a bald, muscular man with a face full of flabby flesh and a massive gold chain around his neck leapt out.

He was the infamous local boss of this area, Feng Gou Qiang.

Feng Gou Qiang is a thug leader for Jiang Hai City's real‑estate developer 'Han De', and also a collector for their loan‑lending operations.

"Damn it, another rundown old estate; probably can't pay anything back."

Feng Gou Qiang spat onto the ground and swaggered into the estate.

According to the tip, the unlucky guy who owed hundreds of thousands in gambling debts was hiding on the 5th floor of Building B.

Feng Gou Qiang kicked open the rust‑stained iron gate and entered the stairwell.

A cold breath mixed with mildew and dust rushed toward him.

He grimaced in disgust and climbed the sole staircase upward.

But a strange thing occurred.

He was clearly walking down, yet after half a day, his feet kept leading to the platform that led to the third floor.

The upward staircase led to the fourth floor, while the downward staircase led to the second floor.

He just came up from the Second Floor.

He doesn't believe in superstition, turns around and walks upward again, trying to go around from the Fourth Floor down.

But when he, panting heavily, climbs up one level, what he sees is still that damned platform leading to the Third Floor.

Upward is the Fourth Floor.

Downward is the Second Floor.

He is trapped.

It's like an ant crawling on a Möbius strip; whether up or down, the end is also the beginning.

Feng Gou Qiang feels a tingling on his scalp, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up.

At that moment.

"Zila—"

The only voice‑controlled lamp overhead begins to flash wildly, flickering on and off.

Black, viscous liquid starts seeping from the wall.

The liquid on the mottled wall slowly coalesces, forming one palm‑sized, pitch‑black handprint after another.

Dense and layered.

In the air comes a faint, intermittent sobbing.

One of a woman, and one of a little girl.

Harsh and desperate, as if coming from the Abyss of hell, drilling into Feng Gou Qiang's ears.

"Ah—!"

This ruthless figure, who has been on the road for over a decade and never flinches when cutting people, was terrified at that moment.

He lets out a scream and, like a madman, rushes downward.

He wants to get out of here!

He wants to escape!

The staircase stretches infinitely beneath his feet, and on the walls on either side, those black handprints seem to come alive, coldly "staring" at him.

He runs for an unknown amount of time, his legs weak as noodles, his lungs burning painfully.

Finally, he stops, leaning on the wall and gasping heavily.

He's saved.

From his peripheral vision he notices the floor has changed.

He lifts his head, trying to see which floor he's on.

But when he sees the hastily scrawled number in red Paint on the wall, his blood instantly freezes.

"4"

A vivid red "4", as if written with blood.

He was clearly running downward!

How did he end up on the Fourth Floor?!

An indescribable terror grips his heart.

He wants to run, but his legs feel as if filled with lead, unable to take another step.

Behind him.

A sour‑tingling sound of Nail scraping the cement wall comes from behind.

Feng Gou Qiang stiffly, bit by bit, turns his head.

The wall behind him is writhing.

The hard cement becomes as soft as soggy mud.

One, two, ten, hundreds…

Countless pale, swollen, corpse‑stained arms burst out from the wall!

Those arms belong to men, to women, and even to a child's tiny arms.

They form a twisted jungle, reaching toward Feng Gou Qiang.

"No—!"

The desperate roar is instantly drowned.

Feng Gou Qiang is seized by those countless hands, and in extreme terror, is dragged hard into the cold wall.

The wall surface returns to smoothness.

As if nothing ever happened.

Meanwhile.

On the rooftop of the residential building, security guard Lao Wang, responsible for Night Patrol, is holding a cigarette, idly watching the distant city nightscape.

Suddenly.

His pupils suddenly contract.

Right at the edge of the neighboring building's rooftop.

A dark silhouette materializes out of nowhere!

Like a TV with a bad signal, the picture flickers and the person abruptly stands there.

Security guard Lao Wang even thinks his eyes are playing tricks.

He rubs his eyes, wanting to look more closely.

The next second.

The suddenly appearing silhouette spreads its arms, steps forward without hesitation, and leaps from the hundred‑meter‑high rooftop!