Xiong Wanyi didn't dare go into the room. He merely poked his head in for a look—and that single glance was enough to make him vomit every last bit of food he'd eaten that morning.
Inside the room stood four or five stainless steel racks, each with five tiers. Laid neatly across each tier were skinned human corpses. The bodies were completely flayed, exposing dark red muscle and pale yellow fat. A thin membrane covered their abdominal organs, and the intricate network of blood vessels and nerves beneath the skinless surface was clearly visible. The only thing you couldn't see—was skin.
Beneath each rack sat a large plastic basin, collecting the blood that still slowly dripped from the corpses above.
Seventh Brother forced himself to look inside once more, but he quickly turned away, dry-heaving. After catching his breath, he muttered, "I've seen sick people before, but this… this is psychosis on another level." As he spoke, he noticed the puddle of vomit at Xiong Wanyi's feet. With that already "contaminating" the crime scene, he gave up on formalities, pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and took a deep drag to calm his nerves. Then he added, "All the stuffing's here—but where the hell did he put the skins?"
Xiong, having finally stopped vomiting, clung to the doorway for support. He pointed weakly back toward the room he'd come from. "There's a dozen or so human skins in the wardrobe there. Don't know if they match these."
Seventh Brother glanced in the direction Xiong pointed but hesitated. In the end, he didn't go look. Instead, he took out his phone to call for backup.
But when he glanced at his screen, his eyes widened. "Xiong Wanyi, does your patrol area have any spots with no cell signal?"
He raised the phone and began walking laps around the living room, trying every corner—but not a single bar of signal. Not even a flicker.
Xiong Wanyi took out his phone too—same thing. No signal. No service. Dead zone.
After several more failed attempts, Seventh Brother gave up. He put the phone away and said, "I'll stay here and hold the place. You run back to the station and bring reinforcements. Get as many people as you can—and hurry!"
But before Xiong could respond, the front door creaked open. A man stepped inside and said, calmly, "No need to call anyone. The two of you can just stay here."
From the moment they'd entered the house, Seventh Brother's nerves had been wound tight. The second the man walked in, he immediately drew his sidearm and shouted to Xiong, "Hua Zishen?"
Xiong Wanyi shouted back, "That's him!"
The moment he had Xiong's confirmation, Seventh Brother didn't hesitate—he fired directly at Hua Zishen's leg.
Bang!
The shot hit right on target, striking Hua's lower leg with precision. But instead of collapsing or even flinching in pain, Hua Zishen merely staggered slightly—then continued walking forward as if nothing had happened.
Seventh Brother's expression changed drastically. He didn't have time to think. He raised his pistol again and emptied the remaining six rounds into Hua Zishen's torso.
Each shot landed. Each shot caused a momentary pause. But none of them stopped him. Hua kept walking, unfazed—his blank, lifeless gaze locked on them.
By now, Hua Zishen had reached Seventh Brother.
Even if the pistol was a standard-issue Type 64 and lacked stopping power, seven bullets should have done something. But not only did they fail to kill him—they barely slowed him down.
Both Seventh Brother and Xiong Wanyi felt their scalps tingle, as if something ice-cold had swept down their spines. The hairs on the back of their necks stood on end.
Thankfully, Seventh Brother had more experience under his belt. Though he was terrified, he didn't panic. With no time to reload, he tossed aside the empty gun, pulled out his police baton, and swung it with all his might toward Hua Zishen's face.
Thwack!
The baton landed squarely, smashing Hua's nose flat. A deep dent appeared across Hua's face. He staggered and nearly toppled—but didn't fall.
Seeing that the baton had at least some effect, Xiong Wanyi pulled out his own and prepared to charge in and help. But just as he stepped forward, the situation changed again.
Seventh Brother, seeing the first strike succeed, followed up with another, this time aiming for Hua's skull.
But just as the baton arced toward Hua's head, the man suddenly reached out—and grabbed it mid-swing.
He held the baton firm, and then… stepped in close.
Before Seventh Brother could make his next move, Hua Zishen suddenly lunged forward and bit deep into his neck. Xiong Wanyi had just reached them—he raised his baton and brought it down on Hua Zishen's head in a frenzy. The vicious blows distorted Hua's head into a grotesque shape, yet he still refused to let go of Seventh Brother's throat.
Seventh Brother's carotid artery had been severed. Deep red blood gushed from the bite and poured into Hua Zishen's mouth in torrents.
Seventh Brother struggled in vain, then began to convulse, until finally… he moved no more. All the while, Hua Zishen's throat worked rhythmically, greedily swallowing every drop of blood as though feasting.
Only once the body stopped twitching did Hua Zishen release it, letting it fall lifelessly to the floor.
Xiong Wanyi was paralyzed with terror, frozen in place with the baton still raised, his mind blank and devoid of thought. Escape was the logical choice, but he couldn't even move a toe.
Hua Zishen wiped the blood from his mouth with a sleeve, and said with a satisfied sigh, "Did you know? I haven't tasted human blood in over seventy or eighty years. All to maintain my cover in your world. But the moment you taste it again—this kind of flavor—it stays with you for life."
He glanced at himself in the mirror hanging in the living room, then pointed at his own face and asked, "This skin's served me well for almost two years now. Not once did anyone grow suspicious. So, what gave me away?"
Xiong Wanyi was too terrified to speak.
Hua Zishen shook his head at his reflection, then proceeded to do something that utterly shattered what remained of Xiong's nerves.
He stripped himself completely naked.
Once exposed, a dark red seam ran down from Hua's chest to his abdomen. Staring at himself one last time in the mirror, he inserted both hands into the seam and pulled it apart. At the same time, his neck shrank back—and a bloody, skinned thing wriggled out of the human hide.
This "body" looked exactly like the skinned corpses in the next room—muscle and sinew without a trace of skin.
The creature looked once more into the mirror but clearly disliked what it saw. It turned its exposed eyeballs toward Xiong Wanyi. Lacking lips, the creature's bare teeth clicked against each other as it said, "If properly maintained, this skin could have lasted another two or three years. But thanks to your interference, I need a replacement now. I've got backups, sure—but none fit quite like this one."
He bared his teeth in what might've been a smile and added, "Your skin, on the other hand, looks… promising. Last time you tried to test me, I almost peeled it off right then and there—if not for the potential trouble it might've caused."
Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked into the room full of skinless corpses.
Xiong Wanyi knew this was his chance to flee—but his body was still paralyzed by fear. He couldn't even move a toe.
A moment later, Hua Zishen emerged again, now holding a long, gleaming blade. He crouched beside Xiong Wanyi and murmured, "It'll hurt at first. I can't have you dying before I'm finished. But once the skin's off, it won't matter."
He reached for Xiong's shirt, his slippery hands fumbling with the buttons.
Soon, Xiong's upper body was exposed—muscular and scarred from years of fieldwork. Hua Zishen raised the blade and began lining it up against Xiong's chest. Just as the tip was about to cut down—
Hua Zishen suddenly twitched.
He froze. His expression twisted into fear. Slowly, he turned his head toward the front door.
At the same time, feeling suddenly returned to Xiong Wanyi's limbs. Seizing the moment, he sprang to his feet. With Hua Zishen distracted, he sprinted for the window.
But just as he jumped, someone else outside leapt toward the same window—bang! The two collided mid-air, crashing against the glass, which shattered into pieces.
Xiong was thrown back into the room.
From outside, the person cursed, "Who the hell's blocking the way?!"
Hua Zishen still stared dumbly toward the front door, as if in a trance.
It wasn't until Xiong bounced off the window—and the figure outside prepared to leap in again—that Hua seemed to snap out of it.
He glanced at the figure outside and growled. Then, with shocking speed, he turned and bolted for the front door.
But the moment he flung it open—a black, gleaming blade was already waiting, its edge pointed inward.
It all happened too fast.
Hua Zishen was running too quickly to stop. As he barreled through the doorway, his neck slammed directly into the blade.
There was a flash of crimson—and then his head and body parted silently.
It could be said that Hua Zishen had beheaded himself.
From behind the wall stepped the blade's wielder—a stern-looking man in his fifties. His face was expressionless, his eyes ice cold. He didn't even glance at the body. Instead, he calmly pulled out a plastic bag, nudged Hua Zishen's severed head into it with his foot, as if it were garbage.
A second man, in his thirties, came running in from the window. He slipped on gloves and dragged the headless corpse back into the house.
Xiong Wanyi had barely begun to comprehend what was happening. But one thing was clear—the older man had just saved his life.
Later, he would learn that these two were Qiu Bulao and Wang Ziheng—Chief and Deputy Chief of the Public Security Bureau's Major Case Division.
They refused to explain anything about the case, and shortly after, Xiong Wanyi received a gag order directly from the provincial Public Security Department.
Three months later, Xiong Wanyi was abruptly forced out of the police force. The reason given: failing his annual assessment.
Xiong couldn't make sense of it. These assessments were usually a formality—when did they become so strict? And why was he the only one they got strict with?
No amount of personal connections could save his job.
Just as he was preparing to leave, he received a transfer request—from the Bureau of Paranormal Investigation in the capital.
To Xiong Wanyi, it was a lifeline. He had no other options.
Soon, he found himself in the Bureau, where Gao the Fat Man tricked him into signing a 99-year employment contract…
Like me and Sun Fatty, Xiong was assigned to Division One under Hao Wenming. Later, when he encountered Qiu Bulao and Wang Ziheng again, the truth of that day began to come into focus.
Due to staff shortages in Division Two, Xiong was often borrowed to help out, and it wasn't until Sun Fatty and I arrived that he was officially transferred there.
On several occasions, Chief Qiu would again save his life while handling cases. To Xiong, Qiu Bulao had become an almost godlike figure.
In his heart, there was only one man fit to succeed Director Gao—Qiu Bulao. If there had to be a Deputy Director, it should have been no one else.
And that was what he could never get over—how such a huge promotion had, inexplicably, gone to Sun Fatty.