Chapter 40: The Other Killer
Taibai Town went into lockdown. Every entrance and exit was placed under strict control, and lodging records from hotels of every size were pulled in full.
Even places like farmhouse courtyards were required to report the identities of all guests staying overnight.
Before long, they found several sets of guest information that roughly matched. And sure enough—among them was a man with albinism, male, around 180 cm tall.
The moment that information came in, everyone’s eyes lit up.
“We found the suspect!”
Albinism, and the height was close—this had to be one of the killers!
The station chief immediately contacted Lin Jiangye at the courtyard. Lin Jiangye quickly arrived at the police station with the lynx, and saw several suspects gathered in the center of the lobby.
“Consultant Lin, Consultant Lin…” the chief whispered in Lin Jiangye’s ear, as if he were sneaking around.
Lin Jiangye’s gaze swept over the men they’d brought back—fast—then landed on the male standing at the very back of the group.
He looked young, early twenties at most. Build-wise he was indeed thin and frail, and his pinkish irises matched what the little “fat chirpers” had described.
Lin Jiangye lifted the lynx out of the car—still snoring softly in his arms. The instant the cold wind hit, the lynx woke up at once, staring up at him with watery, bright eyes.
“Go check whether it’s him.” Lin Jiangye set the lynx down and waited for it to track the scent it remembered.
The lynx licked its paw, washed its face with it, and then sauntered forward—swaggering straight into the crowd.
Faced with a medium-sized wild cat that clearly counted as a predator, people instinctively edged aside, terrified that the big cat might pounce and tear at them.
A couple of bolder ones, seeing how docile it looked, even reached out to pet it—only to get snarled at right in their faces. They recoiled in fright.
The man at the very end watched the lynx approach, sniff him, and then… it lay down.
“Whoa!” People had only ever seen that kind of “signal” from police dogs. Who would’ve thought a lynx could be used like a K9 too?
Everyone was amazed. But the man identified by the lynx remained unusually calm.
Shang Fuyan narrowed his eyes, held the man’s face in his gaze for a moment, then immediately warned the local officers:
“His partner is about to leave town. He showed up on purpose to draw your attention.”
The station chief jolted. He trusted Shang Fuyan without hesitation, and immediately ordered the officers guarding the exits to tighten checks even further—no slack at all.
The moment Shang Fuyan spoke, the man’s calm mask cracked. His “three whites” eyes—white showing beneath the iris—turned vicious as he stared at Shang Fuyan.
But in the next second, a low beastly growl rose.
Everyone turned—and saw the lynx had arched its back, posture primed to attack. If the man made even the slightest move, it would pounce.
“Lynx. Come back!”
Lin Jiangye’s voice cut through the fear in the room. No one doubted the cat’s claws and teeth could rip a human open.
The lynx still rumbled a warning in its throat, eyes locked on the man as it backed away slowly—step by step—until it returned to Lin Jiangye’s side.
Even then, its gaze never left the man.
For the first time, fear appeared on the man’s face. Being watched by a wild predator felt awful—as if the next second he’d be torn apart.
Lin Jiangye crouched, stroked the lynx’s head, then scooped it up.
“Don’t worry. He can’t do anything to us.”
This was a police station. If he dared move, he’d be pinned to the ground by officers in seconds.
Sure enough, officers had already formed a tight circle around him, eyes hostile.
“Sir, you’ll need to come with us to the interrogation room.”
Two members of the major-crimes team stayed behind; the rest went to search the man’s lodging.
Before leaving, the major-crimes captain paused, turned, and looked at Lin Jiangye—who was currently being rubbed on all over by the lynx.
“Mr. Lin, why don’t you come along and take a look?”
Shang Fuyan’s mouth curled slightly into a strange smile.
He was standing just behind Lin Jiangye, so Lin Jiangye didn’t see it—but the captain saw it perfectly.
And the captain knew exactly what that smile meant. His neck flushed faintly, and his eyes filled with guilt.
But Shang Fuyan’s smile disappeared quickly. The captain scratched his head hard, and the group drove off in silence.
The man’s lodging was also a farmhouse courtyard—more precisely, a small guesthouse. It wasn’t large; the entire place could only house about three people.
When the owner saw the police, he nearly got scared to death. He thought they’d discovered he’d renovated his home without permission.
He tested the waters with a question.
Good news: the police didn’t care about that.
Bad news: one of his guests might be a murderer—specifically, the murderer behind the eight-student case that had the whole place in chaos.
Compared to that… illegal renovations didn’t even count as a big deal anymore.
Lin Jiangye, Shang Fuyan, and the captain entered first. The room was small; the man had little luggage—only one or two spare outfits. Nothing else.
Lin Jiangye pointed at the clothes and asked the lynx, “Which ones was he wearing when he killed them?”
The lynx went over, sniffed, picked out a coat, then picked out a thick pair of pants.
“Aow!”
“This—this! This is what he wore back then!”
It lifted its chin proudly, pleased with itself.
Lin Jiangye handed the two items to the police, rubbed the lynx’s head, and kissed its nose.
“Good job, little one!”
The lynx’s head tilted even higher. Then, as if remembering something, it looked around, swinging its head left and right.
“Where’s the bird? That bird?”
It wanted to show off, but the raven hadn’t come today.
The lynx barely moved and Lin Jiangye already knew what it was thinking. It wasn’t allowed to bully—but it could still show off, right?
Lin Jiangye raised a brow and poked its head.
“No provoking Bixi.”
Then he pinched its ear—pure warning.
The lynx immediately started making a low, rumbling sound, like it was muttering complaints under its breath. Unfortunately it was too mumbled for Lin Jiangye to translate.
Shang Fuyan and the captain were seasoned investigators. They tore the place apart and found several useful details.
Under the man’s bed was a clump of soil—dark, almost black—completely different from the soil around the guesthouse.
“Bring it back and compare it with the soil near the crime scene.”
Outside, Shang Fuyan spotted a row of tools—hoes and the like—stacked in a corner. He had the owner called over and asked whether the tools had been lent to anyone.
The owner looked blank.
“I dunno. I just leave ’em there. Whoever needs ’em uses ’em. Ain’t worth much.”
Then Shang Fuyan questioned the other two guests.
“Did you ever see the guy in this room take those tools out?”
One thought hard.
“Can’t say if he took them out, but I saw him come back carrying tools. Late at night, too. Scared me half to death.”
When he recalled the timing, it matched the night of the deaths.
Shang Fuyan crouched by the tools, examined them closely, then reached a hand back toward an officer.
“Swab.”
The officer froze for a second, but under Shang Fuyan’s gaze he obediently handed it over.
When the swab was returned, the white tip was stained red.
“Test whose blood this is.”
The officer’s spirit soared. If it came back as the victim’s blood, the man would be finished.
Shang Fuyan stood, returned to Lin Jiangye’s side.
This wasn’t his territory. Helping was fine; he shouldn’t interfere too much beyond that.
“Now we’re missing the woman,” he said—then paused, noticing the lynx was already asleep.
Lin Jiangye held it like a child, one hand gently patting its butt, humming a little tune with no recognizable name. Shang Fuyan listened quietly, feeling a rare calm settle in.
“What song is that?” he asked—then caught Lin Jiangye’s glance and hurriedly lowered his voice, afraid he’d wake the lynx.
In truth, even if someone shouted beside it, the lynx probably wouldn’t wake. It knew it was safe in this human’s arms.
This wasn’t the first time someone had asked. When Lin Jiangye hummed lullabies at home, Jiang Xin had asked too, even wanting to learn.
But Lin Jiangye couldn’t answer—couldn’t teach it—because it was a tune that surfaced automatically in his mind after gaining abilities in another world.
No title, no written score. He’d once asked his mentor; the mentor said it was a melody “carved into” the ability itself—something that awakened along with the power.
Lin Jiangye fell silent for a long while before finally saying, “Just something I hum… no name, no sheet music.”
Shang Fuyan listened a bit longer. The peace didn’t feel like an illusion.
It really did seem to soothe the heart.
When the officers finished searching the place, the lynx was sleeping deeply.
At the same time, news came from the police station—news that was neither fully good nor fully bad:
“He confessed quickly. Says he’s the one who killed all eight. But he refuses to admit anyone helped him.”
Exactly as Shang Fuyan had predicted—he had shown up to cover for the other person’s escape.
But that left Lin Jiangye confused.
“It’s been days since it happened. They still didn’t leave?”
Shang Fuyan thought for a moment, then pulled up recent news and offered a guess.
“They probably tried to leave. But ‘fate’ forced them to stay.”
Seeing Lin Jiangye’s confusion, Shang Fuyan gave a soft chuckle.
“A few days ago there was a blizzard. The town closed roads temporarily so people wouldn’t leave and get into accidents. Before it reopened, Guan Huahui came to report the case. After that, they definitely couldn’t go anywhere.”
He showed Lin Jiangye the blizzard reports from those days. With conditions like that, neither cars nor flights could easily get out.
“So basically, only running off like the white deer was the correct answer.” The deer got out during road closures how? Four legs—just run.
They passed the guess along to the major-crimes team, then returned to their courtyard to rest.
When the station chief saw only them return, he panicked.
“Where’s Consultant Lin? He’s not leaving, is he?!”
They’d only caught one suspect—there was still another!
Thankfully an officer explained they’d only gone back to rest, not to leave, and the chief’s frantic heart finally settled.
Another day passed, and the autopsy results came in—along with the lab result for the mysterious red smear Shang Fuyan had ordered tested.
The moment the two arrived at the station, they heard waves of grief-stricken wailing.
“Families are identifying the bodies,” an officer murmured. Both men understood immediately.
Lin Jiangye moved through the crowd and reached the chief, taking the report from his hands.
The report said all eight victims died of freezing.
But one victim had blunt-force trauma to the head—and the red substance Shang Fuyan collected came from that head wound.
Combined with the two other guests’ testimony, it confirmed that suspect Fan Rong had indeed returned that night carrying tools.
The clump of soil on his shoe matched the soil beside the corpse pit exactly.
Fan Rong had nowhere to run, nowhere to deny.
The problem was—he never intended to hide himself. He intended to hide the other criminal.
“Still, it’s not like we have zero leads,” the major-crimes team leader said. They reviewed the surveillance from the days before the incident and finally found footage from a small shop camera: a man and a woman together. The man was Fan Rong.
“We’ve basically confirmed the woman too. Jiang Chou—165 cm, 72 kilos, matches your profile. And we verified she has a black backpack with a panda charm.”
The leader let out a silent sigh. At this point he was completely convinced.
Lin Jiangye and Shang Fuyan remained calm. They knew that finding a person didn’t mean convicting them on the spot.
Sure enough, the leader’s next line was:
“But we can’t find evidence she took part in the killing.”
“What about motive? Have you figured out their relationship with the victims?” Shang Fuyan asked.
The police had started digging the moment Fan Rong surfaced, but so far they’d only uncovered Fan Rong’s connection to the group.
“Fan Rong’s older sister was their classmate. Guan Xiong pursued her, got rejected, and then humiliated her relentlessly.”
From their investigation, those eight students were essentially Guan Xiong’s bullying clique.
The chill in Lin Jiangye’s expression deepened. His face didn’t change much—but everyone could feel it:
His mood was awful.
Truly awful.
“Then what? Fan Rong is avenging his sister?” Avenging her was one thing… but killing eight people at once?
The leader gave a cold laugh. His gaze went past the window to the parents outside, sobbing in misery—his eyes complicated.
Part of him felt those bullies were getting what they deserved, and their parents played a big role in how they turned out…
From a rational, law-enforcement standpoint, however, these eight weren’t criminals who had to die—at least some of them hadn’t crossed that line.
“His older sister was humiliated until she broke down, and then she jumped into the river and killed herself.” It had been a tiny household where an older sister and younger brother depended on each other. Their parents were already gone, but they’d left behind some money—enough for the two of them to study and keep going.
With their parents gone and his sister dead, the brother was left completely alone.
“Eight people. Guan Xiong was the ringleader. Two tall, big-built boys were his lackeys—more like hired fists. Those two had girlfriends. And the other three… inside the group they were the ones being bullied, but outwardly they acted as bait, luring targets in.”
Those last three were exactly the ones the captain thought didn’t deserve death.
They were victims too. Even if they were guilty—joining in as accomplices under pressure—if this went to court, a judge would likely weigh the coercion and hand down a lighter sentence.
They’d sorted out suspect Fan Rong’s relationship with the victims, and they understood his motive. But they still couldn’t find what the other person had to do with any of them.
Lin Jiangye hesitated, then held out his hand to the station chief. “Print me a copy of that girl’s photo… two copies.”
When everyone looked over, Lin Jiangye explained his plan. “If the human angle won’t yield anything, then we ask the animals. By the way—does your canteen food taste good?”
Shang Fuyan immediately understood and helped clarify: “You can’t figure out Jiang Chou’s motive, right? Then first pin down her movements. After that, check whether any small animals saw her. If they did, they might’ve heard her say something.”
The police had worked for ages and only found one piece of footage showing Fan Rong and Jiang Chou together. That meant they’d been cautious around cameras for a long time—anything sensitive wouldn’t be discussed under surveillance.
But the point was—
When humans whisper and do secret things, do they guard against harmless little animals nearby?
No.
And that was Lin Jiangye’s opening.
Everyone’s eyes lit up. They hurriedly handed Jiang Chou’s photo over. Lin Jiangye opened the car door and released Bixi.
“Memorize this woman’s face.”
Then he opened the map the police had given him and marked every confirmed point on Jiang Chou’s route. “Go see if any local ‘kids’ have seen her. If they have, ask whether they heard her say anything. If yes, bring them to me. And tell them there’ll be food prepared by humans.”
Bixi was already experienced at this kind of work. After memorizing the streets, it clamped the photo in its beak and flew off.
They watched the raven vanish into the sky—nervous, but hopeful.
“So… that’s it? That works?”
Lin Jiangye glanced back at them. “Of course not. We need help on the mountain too. So your canteen needs to prepare a stash of food.”
In town, the raven would mostly encounter cold-resistant little birds—small appetites, easy to feed. But the mountain had plenty of small carnivores. If you didn’t prepare properly, why would anyone help?
The station chief nodded hard and immediately passed the order down.
“Oh—and don’t cook the meat yet. Just thaw it and keep it stored.” Lin Jiangye added.
Town was Bixi’s job. The mountain would be entrusted to the white deer and its side.
As for the lynx? No. The moment a carnivore showed up, herbivores would bolt. You wouldn’t even get close enough to ask.
“Next, you all need to move too—check Jiang Chou’s lodging for clues, question her family and friends.” Lin Jiangye didn’t need to say it; the major-crimes unit was already doing it.
Lin Jiangye stayed at the station, patiently waiting for updates from the white deer and from Bixi.
Neither side had an easy time. For Bixi especially—Taibai Town was brutally cold. Most animals were already hibernating. Stray animals rarely survived such temperatures; they either left early or were taken in by shelters.
Which meant Bixi could hardly get anything useful from them.
It flew for a long time—so long it started to feel cold.
This was Bixi’s first time in a place this freezing. Everything was fascinating—especially the fact that back at the courtyard, Lin Jiangye had even built it a snow raven.
Bixi perched on a utility pole. Before long, several small birds landed beside it, staring curiously at the gem tied to its leg.
“So pretty! What is that?”
Bixi felt smug as hell. It lifted its claw and waved it, then lowered the photo from its beak and showed off. “My human bought me this shiny thing. Super expensive!”
One bird followed the motion and looked at the woman in the photo, tilting its head. “Then what’s this?”
Since it had their attention, Bixi slid right into the real question: “Have you seen this female human? If you have, and you heard what she said, my human will treat you to a big meal!”
The moment food was mentioned, the little birds got excited.
Of course, not all of them trusted Bixi. “Are you helping humans trick us?”
Bixi snorted in contempt. “My human is the best, best human in the whole world. I don’t even want to bring you over—what if you end up clinging to my human?”
Like that hateful big cat that kept hogging Lin Jiangye’s arms.
So annoying.
Crow hates big cats.
The small birds hadn’t expected this raven to be so spicy. It was just a question—why so fierce?
But food was food. Their desire started itching. “For real? Will there be enough? Or just a little bit?”
“Yes! And lots! I guarantee you’ll eat until you’re full!”
The birds exchanged glances, their bead-black eyes practically glowing.
They were hungry. They wanted food.
“I’ve seen this human!”
“I’ve seen her too!”
“I haven’t—but I know who has! Come with me!”
Chirping noisily, they led the raven into an alley.
Meanwhile…
The white deer carried the photo back to its herd and happened to run into the deer king resting. Seeing the youngster with something in its mouth, the deer king let out a puff of fog through its nose.
“What is that?”
“The human asked me to help find animals who’ve seen this female human. He said if we find them, there’ll be food!”
Other sika deer came over too—but not every deer had seen her, and not every deer could clearly tell humans apart.
Still, they all remembered that “special” human from earlier.
Such a strange human—one look and you wanted to lean in and nuzzle.
The deer king stepped closer to look, then pointed in a direction.
“That human… you should try asking them.”
“Them?”
“Fishers. I remember them saying they met a female human—she even fed them a bit.”
The little white deer froze. The human had told it this female human was bad—but if she didn’t even harm little creatures like fishers, why was she “bad”?
The deer king lowered its head and looked at the youngster, a hint of helplessness in its gaze.
Human ‘good’ and ‘bad’ don’t always match animal ‘good’ and ‘bad.’
“That isn’t important, child.”
The deer king nudged the young deer gently with its nose.
“Go ask them. You might get a surprise.”
After watching the youngster leave, other deer gathered around the king, puzzled.
“Why help a human so much?”
That human’s scent did make them feel safe—but they didn’t have to get involved. Why meddle in human affairs?
Yet the deer king seemed unusually indulgent toward that human.
The deer king slowly lay down. Facing the herd’s confusion, it spoke—calmly—one sentence that stunned every deer present:
“The mountain… may have poachers.”
