Chapter 89: The Blood Fiend

The thick, surging stench of blood and resentment billowed above the metal box, twisting and writhing like the howls of a vengeful spirit. Lu Zhiruo opened her mouth and inhaled; the swirling blood scent and malice vanished as she swallowed it all in a single gulp. She let out a satisfied burp, her face aglow with pleasure.

Then, Lu Zhiruo reached into the box and drew out a piece of bloody skin. Human skin—a whole, intact hide, freshly flayed from a living person. “Excellent quality: tender, soft, yet not too thin. Only a girl around ten years old would have such texture,” she murmured with a smile, lightly stroking the skin.

I fought to suppress the murderous rage threatening to overwhelm me; if my emotions fluctuated too wildly, I would lose control of this body—Lu Biyu’s body. At that moment, I recalled the skinning case Chen Ying’en and her team were investigating. If my guess was correct, it was closely linked to the matter I was unraveling now.

Just then, Lu Zhiruo carried the metal box into her own room. I left my room and approached her door, pressing my ear against it to listen. After a while, I reached out and gently twisted the handle, opening the door just a crack. Peering through the gap, I saw Lu Zhiruo undressing, piece by piece, until she stood completely naked.

Before the mirror, she turned her body, seemingly very satisfied. At first, I viewed her with a man’s gaze, but the feeling quickly dissipated, replaced by a chill that rose up in me. Her back and chest split open, revealing fresh, crimson flesh beneath. “So fragile—good thing new material has arrived, I can patch myself up,” she muttered.

She slid her hand across her scalp; in an instant, her entire skin split apart, peeling away to expose the raw, bloody flesh within. A foul, sinister aura began to permeate the room. My pupils contracted; goosebumps prickled across my skin. What manner of demon was this?

The humanoid mass of flesh removed the skin, spreading it across the table, then picked up the new human skin. As blood seeped into it, the new skin fused seamlessly with the old. I watched as the fleshy creature squeezed some liquid from its body and smeared it onto the skin. Soon, it began to wrap itself in the repaired hide. Before my eyes, the blood and flesh were enveloped once more, and in the blink of an eye, the monster became a stunning beauty, her figure exquisite, skin porcelain white, features flawless.

I retreated quietly to my room, collapsing onto the bed. My body shuddered, and my soul thread pulled back into its true vessel. Meanwhile, Lu Zhiruo slipped on her pajamas, only to notice the door ajar. She paused, hurried over, opened it fully, glanced around, then strode to Lu Biyu’s room.

She raised her hand; a current of blood surged from her palm, and a blood-red seal appeared at Lu Biyu’s brow. “Seems I forgot to close the door properly,” Lu Zhiruo murmured.

Downstairs, I jolted awake, exhaling a long, turbid breath. “Hiss…” I pressed my temples, pain stabbing through my skull. This art of controlling another’s body through blood was draining—too costly for the soul. Best not to use it lightly.

Lighting a cigarette, I began to recall the records of the Great Nether Yin-Yang Technique. “Could it be a Blood Fiend?” I wondered.

A Blood Fiend was once human. After being flayed, it would fuse with a plant demon known as the Blood Gourd, enduring unspeakable agony and emerging as a Blood Fiend. Usually, Blood Fiends were not born willingly, but crafted by sinister Yin-Yang masters.

So, who was pulling the strings behind all this?

Moreover, if someone could use a Blood Fiend to impersonate Lu Zhiruo, they must know that the real Lu Zhiruo had been captured by Nether beings and would not return, allowing them to assume her identity without fear.

The next morning, I arrived at Team Three’s base.

“Brother Qin, coming by so early—were you missing me?” Ye Luo bounded over, giggling.

My gaze lingered on her swaying charms, making my throat dry. “You’re truly sharp—I missed you terribly.”

“Brother Qin, you’re staring again, so annoying!” Ye Luo pouted, stamping her foot, which only made her curves more pronounced.

If only it were summer—the scenery would be even more spectacular.

I withdrew my gaze, tousled her hair, and asked seriously, “I haven’t been able to contact Captain Chen and the others. Where did they go?”

“They diverted from Xinmin City to Wushan, because the evidence suggests the cultists fled there,” Ye Luo replied.

Wushan… I arched an eyebrow. Wushan again. Ever since the incident at Zhangjia Village, nothing strange had been reported there.

“By the way, Lu Zhiruo’s next stop is Wushan. She’s supposed to leave today,” Ye Luo added.

My heart stirred. “Then I’ll head to Wushan and find Captain Chen’s team. Send their location to my phone.”

When the action team was on assignment, they often turned off communications, but each member carried a tracking device. Only logistics within the same team had access—so if something happened, even the bodies wouldn’t be lost.

I got into the car and drove straight to Wushan.

…

The sun hung in the sky, and life in Wushan unfolded at a slower pace than in Linjiang. On the streets and in the alleys, people basked in the sun, chatting leisurely.

Xiao Shatou in Wushan comprised rows of old houses, mostly inhabited by former textile factory workers and their families. The elderly had nowhere to go, so they set up tables below, playing cards and mahjong, sipping tea.

Today was no different—calm and relaxed—until a piercing scream shattered the tranquility. Everyone, young and old, stopped what they were doing, faces stricken.

A second scream followed, then the sound of a breakdown—wailing and shouting. A middle-aged woman, hands covered in blood, staggered out of an old building. Her face was deathly pale, terror and despair etched deeply.

“Guo Dama, what happened?” A crowd gathered, someone called out.

The woman’s lips quivered, trying to speak, but before a word escaped, she collapsed.

Some rushed to her home, only to flee moments later, screaming. One tumbled down the stairs, another ran outside and vomited.

“Something’s happened,” Chen Ying’en said gravely as she watched.

“Dali, notify the local police. Ghost, see if you can track anything,” Chen Ying’en instructed, then entered the building.

On the east side of the third floor, the door was wide open, and a heavy stench of blood wafted out. Chen Ying’en stepped inside and saw, in the living room, a blood-soaked figure. A layer of skin had been flayed from her body, yet she was not fully dead, still writhing.

She wanted to live—she reached out a bloody hand towards Chen Ying’en.

Chen Ying’en felt pity but was powerless. “I’m sorry. I can only promise to avenge you,” she whispered.

The blood woman’s throat emitted a hissing sound; her outstretched hand suddenly fell limp, and she moved no more.

Soon after, thick resentment gathered above her body, slowly forming a ghost.

With a crack, Chen Ying’en struck it with a Spirit-Destroying Seal, and the newly formed ghost dissipated instantly.

Just then, Niu Dali and Ghost entered.

“The perpetrator set up several decoys—I can’t track them,” Ghost said.

“Hm, all the previous victims were girls around ten, but this one seems to be an adult woman,” Niu Dali observed.

Chen Ying’en nodded. “It means the killer’s motive has changed. Based on previous cases, if we don’t find the culprit soon, another victim will follow.”

She continued, “Find out the victim’s identity and family background.”

Soon, the victim’s information was laid out before Chen Ying’en. The deceased, Li Li, age twenty-three, had recently quit her job and stayed home. Her social circle was small: shopping and dining with a few friends, or watching shows on her phone.

Her family background was clear. Both parents had worked at the textile factory. After it closed, her father died in an accident while working elsewhere; now she lived with her mother, Guo Xiaomei.

Chen Ying’en pondered for a long time. “The victims’ family backgrounds aren’t the reason they were targeted—the most likely factor is appearance.”

“But without specific features, guessing the next target is like searching for a needle in a haystack,” Ghost said.

“Let’s check the surveillance and see if any suspicious individuals appeared nearby,” Niu Dali suggested.

At that moment, someone else walked in. The three turned around in surprise.

“Qin Feng, what are you doing here?” Chen Ying’en asked, astonished.

“Yeah, Qin, weren’t you investigating that celebrity?” Ghost chimed in.

I didn’t respond. I glanced at the corpse on the floor. “I found some clues on my end—they link directly to the skinning case. We can merge the investigations.”

I recounted everything about Lu Zhiruo, and all three were shocked.

“Blood Fiend? It’s been years since one appeared—could a Blood Fiend have escaped?” Chen Ying’en said.

“Were there many before?” I asked.

“According to Ninth Bureau records, Blood Fiends appeared en masse a decade ago, but most were exterminated or suppressed,” Chen Ying’en replied.

“Suppressed?” I pressed.

“Yes. Back then, the legendary Li Changsheng of the Ninth Bureau lured the Blood Fiend King to the Demon-Suppressing Tower and sealed it along with a horde of Blood Fiends inside,” Chen Ying’en explained.

So it was old Li who did it!

“Where is the Demon-Suppressing Tower?” I asked.

“No one knows,” Chen Ying’en shook her head.

“Weren’t Blood Fiends created by evil cults? Could this cult have started making them again?” I wondered.

“Blood Fiends require Blood Gourd plant demons, but when the Blood Fiend King emerged, it absorbed all Blood Gourds and wiped them out,” Chen Ying’en answered.