The Mystery of the Inner Demon

Chapter 209 Black Hood

In a rented room of less than six square meters, the man opened a bottle of Red Bull and drank it all in one gulp.

The room was dark, but the moonlight streaming through the window shone softly on the mosquito net.

The man wiped the sweet liquid from his lips, opened his worn-out laptop, the screen lit up with blue light, and the mouse cursor clicked on a webpage. The page displayed only one sentence: "Sorry, the work you are trying to view has been taken down."

Far from being disappointed, he grinned, revealing a row of yellow teeth, then quickly double-clicked the mouse to create a new blank document and typed four words: "Chapter 100".

Just as I pressed the Enter key, there was a loud knocking on the door behind me.

His hand paused for a moment, but he didn't get up. Instead, he continued typing.

"Knock, knock, knock," the knocking continued, then stopped after three more knocks.

He impatiently tossed the empty can into the instant noodle box with leftover soup, stood up abruptly, turned around and opened the door in two steps: "I said I'd pay the rent as soon as I got my royalties!" As soon as he finished speaking, he looked up and saw that the person standing in front of him was not the short and stout landlady.

He lived in a small bungalow on the edge of the village, where there wasn't even a street lamp.

The person in front of him was wearing a black hoodie, with the hood pulled down, and stood silently in front of him.

"Who are you?" the man asked, even though he couldn't see the other person's face clearly, he was certain he didn't recognize him.

However, his expression changed as soon as he finished speaking.

At first, he thought something was stuck in his lower abdomen, but then, with a wet, pulling sound like cutting a melon, something was pulled out of his stomach.

Then came the burning pain, which grew stronger and stronger, instantly engulfing my entire body.

When he saw the man's raised dagger, dripping with sticky blood under the moonlight, he realized with horror that he had been stabbed.

Just as he was about to shout, a second knife pierced his neck. The gushing blood turned all his cries for help into guttural "crack" sounds, mixed with the barking of cats and dogs in the countryside, and no one would care.

Excited breathing came from inside the black hood in front of him, as he watched the man's legs give way and he collapsed onto the cheap floor tiles.

The man did not die immediately; he lay on the ground, convulsing in vain.

The man slowly squatted down, and as if to make sure he could see clearly, he took off his hood.

By the moonlight, the man could see the other person's vague outline, his eyes filled with despair mixed with confusion.

"You've never seen me before." The other person finally spoke, and he hadn't even heard the voice before.

He mustered his last bit of strength and struggled to roll over and crawl into the rented room, but the other party did not give him a chance and plunged the knife deep into his right shoulder again.

He deflated instantly, collapsing into a pool of blood like a limp rag doll. Salty, metallic blood churned in his throat, and he mumbled out three words: "Why?"

"Didn't you summon me?" The other man swiftly and mercilessly plunged his knife into his left shoulder. A "crack" echoed in his ear—the sound of a joint shattering. The fear of death far outweighed the pain, yet he still didn't understand. Unable to speak any longer, he stared wide-eyed at the unfamiliar face. The blue light from the laptop screen made the man appear like a messenger from hell.

"Oh, time is running out." The voice was cold yet mocking. "I'm just trying to fulfill your wish and prove I'm human, not AI. Do you like this sincerity?" The strange tone, a contradiction between eagerness and calmness, was very much like the voice service of artificial intelligence. The hand wearing a black rubber glove suddenly grabbed the man's right index finger, playing with it. "That little report button, was it clicked by this finger?"

As he spoke, with a "snap," the severed finger was thrown out of the window in the man's despairing gaze. Soon after, the sound of two dogs fighting over food could be heard outside—his index finger had been eaten by the village dogs.

The man's rational, machine-like voice continued: "The internet always gives people the illusion that it is a virtual world completely parallel to reality."

Hmm... Is it possible that this virtuality is simply because most people are lazy and don't want to bring things that can be solved with a mouse and keyboard into reality?
For them, sending a message in a second, or engaging in such a sincere face-to-face exchange like we do, is too much trouble.

However, I felt your sincerity.

Your eagerness to know whether I am human or AI is, in my opinion, a compliment.

I understand. Online, people can question everything, but they can't prove anything. The outcome seems predetermined from the start; the one who initiates the question wins. Because once the one being questioned begins to prove themselves, it's a bottomless pit. Ha, this solves nothing, and I don't like it.

Therefore, I overcame my human laziness and decided to solve the problem through action.

I don't like proving things, but I like solving problems; that sense of security comes from having things settled.

"Hmm...it's resolved now, I'm so happy." He took a slight breath of the bloody smell in the air, and even his "happy" was uttered softly.
-
"The case in Yingjiangbei?" Wu Shanqiu muttered after receiving the news.

"What? Are you being picky about the cases you take now?" Qi Fei raised an eyebrow and laughed.

"No, no, no," Wu Shanqiu quickly denied. "The people in Jiangbei are known for their 'simple and honest' nature. I'm just still a little shaken. It would be quite difficult to investigate again."

Qi Fei understood what Wu Shanqiu meant. Jiangbei was far from the urban area of ​​Nancheng, and the original inhabitants had their own way of doing things, passed down from generation to generation. He had heard from the old policemen that in the past, when they went to handle cases, they would bring several people with them, and if they disagreed, they might start fighting.

The car crossed the Yingjiang Bridge and headed north. Once it reached Jiangbei, the scenery was clearly different from the bustling urban area of ​​Nancheng.

This is the most chaotic and dilapidated place, nestled between the city and the countryside.

Sure enough, when the police car stopped on the roadside covered with rubble, the young man who had been playing billiards at the village entrance was already holding his worn-out cue stick, looking at them with a roguish grin.

People in uniforms are not welcome here.

The two walked through the village road, which was piled with all sorts of odds and ends, toward the very edge of the northwest corner.

Finally, a dilapidated bungalow appeared before them, with the door facing north, overlooking the wasteland on the edge of the village.

Regardless of local customs, the desire to join in the fun seems to be universal. This small, dilapidated house, which was originally deserted, is now surrounded by people.

Local police officers were struggling to maintain order.

Qi Fei and Wu Shanqiu climbed over the police cordon and finally saw the deceased...