Volume Seven: Phantom of River City Chapter Five: Angels and Demons

Page 1 of 3

Sitting in the office of the Jiang City Criminal Police Unit, Yaoguang continued to pore over the files.

“Sis, yesterday when we talked about the heart, it seemed like some kind of ritual. Can you use your spiritual power to sense anything?” Huo Mingkun sidled over and asked in a low voice.

“I already tried. The victim’s soul isn’t here at all—meaning the soul didn’t follow the corpse, and there’s no fluctuation of spiritual energy around the body. I can’t track anything. That’s what’s been puzzling me. Without spiritual fluctuations, there’s no way for the spirit-offering to track,” Yaoguang shook her head.

“All right then.” Huo Mingkun sighed.

“Phoenix, the DNA comparison results are out. The cigarette butt from Zhang Fengchuan’s office and the male corpse are a match—the same DNA. The hair sample matches the female corpse. We can now confirm: the male victim is Zhang Fengchuan, the female is Ma Yanran.” Captain Li handed over the report.

“Good. Thanks for your hard work. Is everyone here? I’ve already had Yitian wait downstairs. We’re heading to Zhang Fengchuan’s villa.”

“All right, let’s go,” replied Captain Li.

The car sped through the city and stopped at the foot of a detached villa. Yaoguang took out the key Wang Qing had given her yesterday and unlocked the main door. As the door swung open, everyone was struck by the overwhelming scent: “The smell of blood and formaldehyde.”

“No way—is this the original crime scene?” muttered Huo Mingkun, quickly putting on shoe covers, mask, and gloves before stepping inside. The villa had three floors; the ground floor was the living room, tidy and in perfect order. Yaoguang and the group headed upstairs. The second floor: master bedroom on the left, guest rooms on the right, each spotlessly clean. The group moved to the third floor. At the top of the stairs was a corridor, ending at a pair of double doors. Yaoguang walked over. “The smell is strongest here.” She pushed the door open—and stopped dead at the threshold.

“What’s wrong, Master—my god…” Jiang Yun, seeing Yaoguang frozen, stepped forward and also stood rooted in shock.

“What is it, you two?” asked Captain Li.

“Captain Li, we’ve found the victims’ heads and arms. You’ll have to see for yourself—I can’t describe it!” Jiang Yun turned his head stiffly, looking at Li with discomfort.

Li, suspicious, sidestepped Jiang Yun and walked in. “Good heavens.”

Xuan Chen and Tianyou also entered, and seeing the scene before them, felt a pang of sorrow.

“Ugh…” Yaoguang, standing there, suddenly coughed up a mouthful of blood.

“Master?” Jiang Yun caught her swaying form. “Brother Yitian, come quick! Master’s coughing blood!”

“Miss, what’s wrong?” Yitian rushed in, took in the room’s scene: “A bleeding angel and a sealed demon—Miss?” He quickly slipped a pill into Yaoguang’s mouth.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Let’s get to work,” Yaoguang forced herself to recover, wiped her mouth with the tissue Yitian handed her, then bent down to clean the blood she’d dripped. Taking a deep breath, she walked further in.

“Yitian, what did you just say—the bleeding angel and the sealed demon?” Captain Li inquired.

“Yes. There’s a precedent for this. For specifics, you’ll have to ask Miss, if she’s willing to tell you,” Yitian replied.

The group moved closer. At the far end of the room, two nearly two-meter-high frames stood side by side. The left frame’s background depicted the sky, with an angel in a white dress, wings outstretched. The wings weren’t painted, but pieced together from white feathers. Beneath the wings, the angel’s arms extended sideways—real human arms, affixed at the severed ends to the painting with wire. Blood streaked the wings, dripping down, giving the illusion that the angel’s wings bled. Above, at the angel’s neck, was a real woman’s head. Her long hair was brushed neat, hanging on both sides, her features delicate, makeup exquisite, eyes closed, long lashes casting shadows, and a single tear of blood at the corner of her eye. An angel fallen to earth, wings broken in unwillingness and sorrow—the entire painting desolate and mournful, magnificent yet terrifying.

The right frame had a background of hell—a demon in black robe, wings also fashioned from black feathers. The demon’s arms, also real human arms, extended and wired in place. There was no blood on these wings but one side was bound with a chain, tying arms and wings together in restraint. Above the demon’s neck was a man’s head, face dignified, eyes closed, blood seeping from the corners of eyes, mouth, nose, and ears, lips painted black, and a six-pointed star marked on his chest. A demon sealed in hell, perishing in bondage, exuding violence and blood—the entire painting oppressive and powerless, its splendor chilling to the soul.

“Phoenix was right—the murderer was creating a work of art. This isn’t just murder, it’s painting with living people. This level of depravity is something else,” Huo Mingkun gazed at the frames, then turned to Yaoguang. “Sis, are you all right?”

Page 2 of 3

“I’m fine, truly. Just reminded me of the past. Your curiosity—when this case is closed, I’ll satisfy you,” Yaoguang had recovered, but her hand was clenched so tightly her nails dug into her palm, sharp pain jolting her awake: “Ghost Sect, Phoenix will never share the same sky with you.”

“Master, look at the floor,” Jiang Yun pointed at the ground before the frames.

“A Soul Confinement and Gathering Array?” Yaoguang and the others looked at the blood-drawn formation, speaking in unison.

“Wait, a what kind of array?” Captain Li was bewildered.

“It’s a Soul Confinement and Gathering Array, a legendary Daoist ritual—supposedly to trap the souls of the dead, preventing them from reincarnation,” Jiang Yun explained.

“Oh, so the killer believes in this stuff. Really?” Captain Li chuckled, pulling out his phone. “Hello? Xiao Qin, bring your team up, we’ve found the victims’ heads. Right, that’s all.”

“Well, who doesn’t,” Jiang Yun laughed along, then glanced at Yaoguang, sticking out her tongue—luckily quick-witted; there was no way to explain this to the captain.

Yaoguang smiled and gave her a thumbs-up, then mouthed, “There are spirits here.”

“Yitian.” She beckoned Yitian over, whispering in his ear, “Both victims’ souls are here. In a moment, break the formation and take their souls into the spirit-sealing compartment in the car—don’t harm them.”

“Yes, Miss,” Yitian replied.

“Ah Yao,” a ghostly voice sounded behind Yaoguang.

“What are you doing here? Don’t look,” Yaoguang quickly activated telepathic speech.

“It’s fine. I sensed something was wrong and came. The bleeding angel and the sealed demon—Ghost Sect’s reach is long,” the male immortal replied.

“I can confirm the killer isn’t of the Ghost Sect—the array is too crude. He’s just using their methods to achieve his ends. I just don’t know what he’s trading. I hope it’s not souls—otherwise, there’ll be no evidence left,” Yaoguang said.

“I’ll try to track them. Take care—don’t let me worry,” the immortal replied.

“All right,” Yaoguang said.

“Sis,” Huo Mingkun glanced at the door, signaling the immortal had left.

“Mm,” Yaoguang nodded.

“They followed Brother Yitian, hand in hand, not struggling at all,” Huo Mingkun whispered.

“Let Yitian question them tonight,” Yaoguang nodded, knowing he meant Zhang Fengchuan and Ma Yanran’s souls.

“What are you two whispering about?” Captain Li asked.

“Nothing, Phoenix just felt a bit sick—I was comforting her,” Huo Mingkun replied.

Yaoguang stared at the paintings, an inexplicable fury burning within her.

Page 3 of 3

The sound of police sirens downstairs broke the silence. Xiao Qin entered with his team. “What kind of fetish is this—painting with real people?”

“God, if these paintings weren’t made with real victims, they’d be masterpieces. But treating the dead like this—I just want to nail the killer to the wall. Sick freak. Uncle Wu, get to work,” Xiang Xiang pulled out her tools to begin the autopsy, but was frustrated by the two-meter-high frames. “How do we get these down? Phoenix, please!”

In the next instant, Yaoguang leapt up, hung from the ceiling’s decorative beam, inverted herself, and carefully removed the victims’ heads, handing them down. She repeated the process for the arms and the other painting, then, after ensuring the team received the remains, flipped to the ground and landed lightly.

“You’re some expert. How did you train like that?” Li stared at her.

“Secret art, passed down in my sect. You couldn’t learn it,” Yaoguang replied, then glanced at Xuan Chen, indicating her annoyance—having to fake martial arts prowess.

Xuan Chen smiled at her. Huo Mingkun and Tianyou exchanged quiet grins.

The trace inspection team scoured the room, using blood detection lamps in a meticulous search.

Yaoguang looked around—the villa was spotless. Apart from the formation on the floor, there was almost no trace of anything.

She circled the villa, then returned. “Captain Li, have the techs pull surveillance footage from the community.”

“All right,” Li answered, moving aside to make the call.

“Captain Li, the villa is so meticulously cleaned—not a single hair found. There are faint traces of blood on the floor, but nothing that can be collected. The blood was scrubbed with chemicals—there’s not even residue in the tile grout. This killer is terrifyingly thorough,” Xiao Luo from forensics shook his head.

“Xiao Luo, come to the bathroom,” someone called.

“Coming.” Xiao Luo entered, with Yaoguang following.

“Look,” the officer pointed at the floor drain.

Xiao Luo crouched, opened the cover, and used long tweezers to probe inside. After a while, he extracted a small clump of hair, entangled with fragments. “There’s tissue residue and bone splinters.” He carefully placed the hair into an evidence bag. “Captain Li, though the place is spotless, evidence shows this is the primary crime scene. The killer was highly protected—no fingerprints, no footprints, not even blood spatter on the walls. No tools found either. We did a quick comparison with household knives and fruit knives in the kitchen and dining room—none are the murder weapon.”

“Understood,” Li nodded.

“This murderer’s meticulousness and psychological control are at the highest level. In all my years, I’ve never seen a crime scene like this,” Xiao Luo remarked.

“All right, that’s enough for now. Let’s head back,” Li said.

On the way back to the station, everyone was still discussing Anqing. Yaoguang, a cigarette between her fingers, stared out the window. She didn’t take a single drag—the smoke burned down to the filter, nearly scorching her fingers, yet she didn’t notice, lost in thought. Jiang Yun gently removed the cigarette and looked at Xuan Chen. “Chief Xie, what’s wrong with Master?”

“She’s lost in memory,” Xuan Chen sighed. “Those memories are stained with blood. Someday, she’ll tell you herself.”