Chapter 12
Racing all the way like the wind, Jiang Jitang arrived at the police station in a hurry with his helmet in his arms and explained his purpose.
“Ahem… Mr. Jiang, right? Please come with me.”
A man in plain clothes walked over. He had a strong build and sharp features—clearly someone capable. But the dark circles under his eyes, his unshaven face, and the faintly lifeless green hue covering his skin told another story.
Jiang Jitang’s visual perception was unlike that of ordinary people. He could clearly see that layer of dull green— the color of someone close to death. When he got closer, he even caught a faint stench of rot masked by cologne and medicine.
Right at the man’s chest.
An ominous power kept that area in an unhealed state, with some kind of tool barely keeping his life tied down.
Another thing that defied scientific common sense.
This world really was strange.
“Officer uncle…”
The address made the weary man twitch his eyebrows. “My surname is Han. Jiang Jitang, right? Come with me.”
Clearly dragged into working a job he didn’t want, Officer Han said nothing further and led Jiang Jitang into an office.
A middle-aged woman was already seated inside. She smiled, though a steely sternness remained between her brows. If a guilty criminal stood before her, their legs would likely go weak and they’d rush to confess everything.
“Please sit.”
Jiang Jitang sat down. After a few polite words, the woman quickly moved into formal procedure. They held a form—one questioned, one took notes.
They asked what he remembered about those three days, and if there had been any abnormalities recently. Jiang answered everything and continually supplemented details.
Everything appeared very normal.
The male officer noticed the metal eye-shaped bracelet on Jiang Jitang’s wrist but, seeing nothing unusual and Jiang Jitang behaving naturally, simply glanced at it without comment.
Once the process neared its end, they asked Jiang Jitang to sign. He extended his right hand and signed his name.
His writing was round, soft, without sharpness—just like the impression he gave: gentle and harmless.
After signing, he was escorted to another area to view the surveillance footage.
In the footage, his blurry silhouette could be seen walking out of the school with a bag, preparing to cross the street.
Up to there, everything was normal. Then suddenly, a sedan swerved erratically into view. As it approached the vicinity of the school, it abruptly turned and plowed into him. The figure in the video collapsed motionless to the ground.
The room went so quiet one could hear breathing. The man suddenly felt something was off, looking toward Jiang Jitang—only to find the handsome young man completely calm, his expression unruffled.
Even after something like this—so calm?
His mental composure was far too good.
The car stopped after hitting him. An old man got out, circled the fallen figure once, furtively glanced around, then hoisted him up and stuffed him into the car. Very quickly, both the car and person vanished from the camera.
The car next reappeared near a deserted alley.
“We’re already investigating this hit-and-run vehicle. You’ll be notified if there’s any update,” the man said flawlessly, as if reciting lines.
“Yes. If possible, I can accompany you to the hospital for a check-up to keep on record—especially your brain. I think you may have lost the memory of the crash due to trauma.” The woman added naturally.
It appeared the driver was an elderly person with poor driving ability, or perhaps fatigued or drunk, and knocked him down. Lacking legal awareness or understanding of the SkyNet (surveillance) system, they opted to transport the ‘corpse’ elsewhere to dispose of.
And unfortunately, Jiang Jitang woke after being unconscious for three days in the alley, but due to the extreme stress, he lost memory of the crash. Only when he submitted a report and the police checked surveillance did they uncover abnormalities and call him in.
With video evidence and official backing, the logic was perfectly airtight—almost without flaws.
“The facts are basically clear, but we still need some materials to open the case. I’ll accompany you to get examined at the hospital?” The woman remained kind.
The man then handed him a form. “You know what’s happened. If you have any further questions, feel free to ask. If not, sign it. We’ll contact you when there is news.”
“If you do find the driver… because of his age, will the matter be trivialized?”
“Dumping someone after hitting them is a serious offense. Rest assured—the law will not let any criminal go free, no matter who they are or how old.”
Jiang Jitang rotated the form and skimmed it. Seeing no major issue, he switched the pen to his left hand. Where he shouldn’t have signed, he signed—with his left hand. This time, the three characters “Jiang Jitang” were sharp and forceful.
The man froze.
Jiang Jitang looked up at him, and smiled. There was a trace of sharpness in his eyes.
There were at least three optimal disposal spots near the school gate that were both secluded and unsupervised. Yet the man in the video deliberately drove through a pedestrian street and bustling commercial area to reach an alley.
And Jiang Jitang was clearly left-handed—yet the blurry figure in the video instinctively used his right hand to block in response to danger.
This world felt like a massive lie crafted for ordinary people.
On his way from home to the station, he passed many people: homemakers with baskets heading to market, students cycling to school, and exhausted office workers pushing through fatigue. From their faces, all one could see was peace and prosperity.
But when is peace ever so easily obtained?
“I’m just an ordinary person—but someone killed me, and carried on as if nothing happened. What am I? An NPC detached from the program? Who wants me dead? Who erased every trace?”
Jiang Jitang’s voice was soft—but like thunder in their ears. Their faces changed instantly.
“I think, Mr. Jiang, you may be misunderstanding—”
Before the man could finish speaking, something invisible flowed from Jiang Jitang’s palm. The wound barely held together by some precious artifact was soothed, and the pain he’d grown accustomed to began fading.
He looked at Jiang Jitang. “You’re…?”
“Do you think I’m misunderstanding?” Jiang Jitang replied mildly.
The man lifted his shirt hem. The others’ eyes passed the bulging abdominal muscles and the twisted scars, shifting focus to the metal compass covering his chest.
He then removed the gauze from his chest. Corrosive green residue still clung to the bandage—but there were now granulations growing, filling in the gap. The fearsome wound was healing, while the curse could do nothing.
Last night, Jiang Jitang had absorbed a larger wishing star. Today, he was no longer the Jiang Jitang of yesterday—he could now heal three severely injured people at once.
And this was just the beginning.
The power of the Tree of Life had only begun to reveal itself.
Within roughly ten seconds, Jiang Jitang withdrew his hand. The rapid healing stopped; the malign power returned like a tide, but unable to affect the repaired areas—it could only stubbornly prevent further recovery.
“You can save me.” The man stared directly at Jiang Jitang. His eyes burned like flames—looking at him as one of his own. “What is that #$%^… You are also &^%$.”
Jiang Jitang only smiled. He heard a series of beeping sounds, as if the world still had secrets to conceal from him. Without showing his reaction, he calmly asked, “Can I see the real video now?”
“Yes.” The man didn’t hesitate for even a second.
The woman beside him shook her head but understood his feelings. Anyone who lived face-to-face with death every day, only to discover they might not die immediately, would be ecstatic—borderline unhinged.
“Actually, we’ve been investigating this matter as well. Since we initially thought you were an ordinary person, we didn’t plan to tell you the truth.
“You know—ordinary people wouldn’t understand even if they heard the truth. They’d think the authorities are evading responsibility and might cause more trouble instead.” He began playing the real video while explaining.
Jiang Jitang believed half of what he said. True, ordinary people might be shielded and communication would break down, but handling everything with a blanket approach was also problematic.
But time was life. He had no patience to lie dormant and slowly investigate. As a civilian with nothing to his name, his resources were too limited—better to reach directly for internal contacts.
As for using healing, it served as a test.
To gain information, one must offer something valuable. Since this man was working with an open wound, that wound was the best entry point.
From his probing, he now understood that this world truly held mysterious forces—and the man had shown pure joy, not suspicion, upon witnessing his healing.
Second, he wanted to demonstrate his own value—for the future.
Despite being a government employee, the man had received no effective treatment. Jiang Jitang suspected this world lacked a specialized healing method.
If this world lacked healers, then someone fused with the Tree of Life seed—like him—would be invaluable. A healer is precious and harmless anywhere.
The real video began.
It began at the school gate, but this time, no car or old man appeared. Instead, on the other side of Jiang Jitang came a shadow shrouded in dark mist, walking toward him.
“Was the original video like this?” Jiang Jitang frowned as he watched.
“Yes, this is the original. He came prepared.”
No wonder they had shown the fabricated version. Which ordinary person would believe this? That’s why they first presented the normal-looking fake footage.
The man enlarged a section of the video, but the figure walking from across the street remained blurry. Even electronic equipment couldn’t record him clearly.
A previously forgotten fragment of memory flashed by. Jiang Jitang frowned, trying to make out what it was.
Unclear what the pixelated person did, but suddenly, in the footage, Jiang Jitang lowered his head. Then, like a machine being controlled, he walked forward step by step.
The footage continued switching angles. One could clearly see him, head bowed, walking through the bustling pedestrian street, across the sunlit commercial district, and into a deserted alley—never to emerge.
The man was about to stop the video playback on his phone when he suddenly noticed Jiang Jitang coughing up a mouthful of blood. His face had already been somewhat pale—now it was ghostly white.
“You—?”
Jiang Jitang gestured for him to stay silent. The middle-aged woman, realizing something, held the man’s shoulder and shook her head.
Clotted black blood spilled out with the returning memory, and Jiang Jitang laughed—freely, joyfully.
He saw a black sheet of paper. A pen inscribed pale-gray words upon its surface:
Jiang Jitang, born on [year] [month] [day] [hour] [minute], shall die on [year] [month] [day] at [hour] [minute] in a place seldom visited, cause of death: life force depletion and cardiac arrest.
Someone had used a piece of paper—to kill him.
Translator Note:
Ryuk (a.k.a Death Note) is that you? O.O
