Courtyard House: First, kill the hypocrites, leave none alive.

"Ring ring—ring ring—"

The phone in the police station's duty room suddenly rang in the dead of night, its piercing ring breaking the silence. Officer Xiao Wang, on duty, jolted awake from his half-asleep state and grabbed the receiver.

"This is the Chengxi Police Station, please speak."

A hurried, trembling voice came from the other end of the phone: "Call the police...call the police! Someone's dead in the alley! Lots of blood!"

Xiao Wang immediately snapped out of his daze: "The exact location?"

"The third alley behind the cotton mill, turn in and you'll see it..."

"Secure the scene, we're on our way!"

After hanging up the phone, Xiao Wang rushed out of the duty room and woke up Zhang Gong'an and several other police officers who were resting. A few minutes later, two jeeps roared out of the police station and sped towards the cotton mill.

The streets were deserted in the dead of night, save for the flashing red and blue lights of police cars, an ominous sign. Officer Zhang sat in the passenger seat, his face ashen. He already had a bad feeling—the time, the place, the way the call was made…

too familiar.

As soon as the car turned into the back street of the cotton mill, a strong smell of blood filled the air. Several early-arriving auxiliary police officers were already guarding the alley entrance, their faces pale. They only breathed a sigh of relief when they saw the police arrive.

"Team Leader Zhang, he's...he's inside..." one of the auxiliary police officers said, his voice trembling.

Officer Zhang didn't speak, and strode into the alley. The beam of his flashlight pierced the darkness, illuminating the ground in the middle of the alley.

It was the same scene again.

A male corpse lay face down on the ground, a deep gash in his neck almost severing his head. Blood gushed from the wound, spreading across the ground and congealing into a dark red color. Scattered around the body were a few splattered drops of blood, forming eerie patterns on the walls and floor.

The forensic doctor knelt down to examine the body: "Male, around 25 years old, time of death approximately between 6 and 7 pm. One slit in the throat, died instantly. There were several other stab wounds on the body, but none were fatal; they were likely inflicted during the struggle before death."

Officer Zhang shone his flashlight on the corpse's face. Although it was covered in blood, it was still recognizable—it was Liu Guangtian.

Liu Guangtian, living in a courtyard house.

"That's the fifth one," Officer Zhang said in a low voice.

The police officers behind them exchanged bewildered glances, their faces etched with shock and fear. Qin Huairu, Jia Dongxu, Director Wang, Xu Damao, Yan Jiecheng, and now Liu Guangtian. Six lives lost, and a crippled Yi Zhonghai.

Chen Feng has gone mad, completely mad.

"Investigate the scene," Zhang ordered, "be thorough, don't overlook any clues."

But everyone knew there wouldn't be any clues. Chen Feng was too clean; every time, it was the same: kill, search, leave. He left nothing behind except the kitchen knife he'd left at Yan Jiecheng's scene.

The police officers began their work: taking photos, measuring, and collecting evidence. But as with the previous times, the scene was clean. No fingerprints, no footprints; the murder weapon was gone, leaving only the body and blood.

Officer Zhang walked to the alley entrance and lit a cigarette. The smoke drifted in the cold night air, mirroring his current mood—confused, powerless, and angry.

"Captain Zhang, should we notify the family?" a police officer asked as he walked over.

"Notify them," Officer Zhang said, "but don't say how they died. Just say... it was an accident, and let them come and identify the body."

"Yes."

The police officer turned to make a phone call. Officer Zhang leaned against the wall, taking a deep drag on his cigarette. He couldn't understand how Chen Feng had done it. The entire city was under surveillance, key areas were being monitored, the courtyard house was guarded 24/7, and security at the steel mill had been strengthened. Yet Chen Feng still managed to kill someone, and right on Liu Guang's way home from work.

How did he know Liu Guangtian's route? How did he know Liu Guangtian would pass through that alley at that time? How did he avoid all the informants?

Unless... Chen Feng is nearby. Near the steel rolling mill, or even possibly near the courtyard house.

Officer Zhang's eyes suddenly lit up. That's right, the most dangerous place is the safest place. Chen Feng probably hadn't gone far at all; he was hiding nearby, observing, waiting, and looking for an opportunity every day.

"Xiao Wang!" he called out.

"arrive!"

"Notify all police stations to begin searching rental houses, vacant rooms, and abandoned buildings around the steel rolling mill and the courtyard houses. Chen Feng is very likely hiding nearby!"

"yes!"

At the same time, in the courtyard.

The Liu family had just finished eating and were chatting on the kang (a heated brick bed). Auntie Er was sewing shoe soles, Liu Haizhong was smoking, and Liu Guangfu was reading the newspaper. The atmosphere was tense; no one spoke, only the clock ticked away.

Suddenly, there was a rapid knocking on the door.

"Who is it?" Auntie Er asked.

"Police station, open the door!"

Liu Hai's heart tightened, and he got off the kang (a heated brick bed) to open the door. Two policemen stood outside, their faces serious.

"Comrade Liu Haizhong, please come with us," a police officer said.

"What's wrong? What happened?" Liu Haizhong asked.

"We'll talk about it when we get to the office."

Liu Haizhong glanced at the police officer's expression and a sudden sense of foreboding washed over him. He didn't ask any more questions, put on his cotton-padded coat, and followed the police officer.

The second aunt chased after him to the door: "Dad, what's wrong?"

"Stay home and don't come out," Liu Haizhong said as he turned around before being taken away by the police.

Liu Guangfu followed his father out, watching him disappear into the alleyway, his heart filled with unease. He remembered that his older brother, Liu Guangtian, hadn't returned yet; he should have been home by now.

"Mom, why hasn't my brother come back yet?" he asked.

The second aunt froze for a moment, her face turning deathly pale: "Guangtian... Guangtian, he..."

She dared not think any further, but that ominous premonition was like a hand, tightly gripping her heart.

At the police station, Liu Haizhong saw his son's body.

He stood at the entrance of the morgue, his legs weak, barely able to stand. A corner of the white sheet was lifted, revealing Liu Guangtian's pale face, the deep gash on his neck like a grinning mouth, silently mocking him.

"Guangtian... my son..." Liu Haizhong wept uncontrollably, threw himself onto the corpse, and cried out loud.

Two police officers pulled him away. Officer Zhang walked over and patted him on the shoulder: "Comrade Liu Haizhong, please accept my condolences."

"Who did it? Who did it?" Liu Haizhong grabbed Zhang Gong'an's arm, his eyes bloodshot.

"We are still investigating," said Officer Zhang, "but our initial assessment is that it should be Chen Feng."

"Chen Feng! Chen Feng!" Liu Haizhong roared, "I'm going to kill him! I'm going to kill him!"

"We will catch him," Officer Zhang said, "but now, what you need to do is cooperate with us and provide clues. What time did Liu Guangtian leave home today? Which road did he take? Was he with anyone?"

Liu Haizhong, panting heavily, tried to calm himself down: "He...he left at seven in the morning, with Guangfu. He usually gets off work around five-thirty and comes back with Guangfu. But today...today Guangfu said he had something to do and left a little later, so Guangtian left first..."

Which way to go?

"The third alley behind the cotton mill... that road is closer..."

Officer Zhang nodded. Sure enough, it was that alley.

"Comrade Liu Haizhong, please go back first and handle the funeral arrangements. Contact us immediately if you have any leads."

Liu Haizhong left the police station dejectedly and walked down the street late at night. A cold wind blew by, and he shivered, but he didn't feel cold; he only felt a huge emptiness in his heart.

My son is dead. My son is dead.

He recalled Liu Guangtian's appearance before his death—honest, simple, and a little timid. That night, when he testified against Chen Feng, Liu Guangtian hadn't actually said anything, just nodded in agreement. But now, he was dead too.

Is it retribution?

Liu Haizhong didn't know. All he knew was that all he wanted to do now was kill someone, kill Chen Feng, and avenge his son.

It was almost midnight when they returned to the courtyard. A few lights were on in the courtyard, and Aunt Er and Liu Guangfu were standing at the door waiting. When they saw Liu Haizhong return alone, their expressions changed.

"Where's his father, Guangtian?" Aunt Er asked, trembling.

Liu Haizhong looked at her, opened his mouth, but couldn't utter a word. Finally, he burst into tears, crying, "Guangtian... Guangtian is gone..."

"Ah—!" Auntie Er screamed and fainted.

Liu Guangfu quickly supported his mother, tears streaming down his face. Although he was afraid and heartbroken, he felt an overwhelming sense of dread—could he be next?

The crying startled the others in the courtyard. Lights gradually came on in each house, but no one dared to come out. Only Sha Zhu pushed open the door and went to Liu Haizhong's house.

"Second Uncle, what's wrong?" Sha Zhu asked, though he had already guessed.

"Guangtian... Guangtian was killed by Chen Feng..." Liu Haizhong cried.

Sha Zhu remained silent. He had expected it, but when the news actually arrived, he still felt a sinking feeling in his heart.

Yet another one. Liu Guangtian is dead.

Who will be next? Liu Guangfu? Yan Jiefang? Or himself?

"Second Uncle, don't cry yet," Sha Zhu said. "Help Second Aunt inside first, and then... take care of Guangtian's funeral arrangements."

Liu Haizhong nodded and, with Sha Zhu's help, helped his second aunt into the house. Liu Guangfu went to fetch water to wash his mother's face.

The others in the courtyard finally dared to come out. Yan Bugui, Aunt San, Jia Zhangshi, and several neighbors all gathered at Liu Haizhong's door, peeking inside.

"Old Liu, Guangtian, he..." Yan Bugui asked in a low voice.

"He's dead," Liu Haizhong said in a hoarse voice. "He was killed by Chen Feng on his way home from get off work."

The crowd exchanged bewildered glances, their faces etched with fear. Another one, the sixth. How many more would die in this courtyard?

"Then... what about the funeral arrangements?" Yan Bugui asked.

Liu Haizhong didn't speak. His mind was blank; he knew nothing.

Yan Bugui glanced at the mourning tent that hadn't been dismantled yet in the courtyard—it was erected for Yan Jiecheng, and now that Yan Jiecheng had been buried, the tent was still there. He began to make plans in his mind.

"Old Liu, I think this is how it should be done," Yan Bugui said, "our courtyard will help with Guangtian's funeral arrangements. The mourning tent is ready, and as for the coffin... we can just buy a cheap one. We can each contribute some money and get things done."

Liu Haizhong nodded; he didn't care about anything anymore.

Yan Bugui began making arrangements. He sent Shazhu to find a coffin shop, Third Aunt to buy incense and paper money, and Liu Guangfu to inform the relatives. He himself took a small notebook and began collecting the monetary gifts.

"Aunt Wang, what do you think about Guangtian's matter... how much will you contribute?"

"Uncle Li, you've been my neighbor for a long time, please help me out."

"Sister Zhang, you can decide what to give..."

Yan Bugui's hands were numb from collecting money, but he was calculating in his mind: the mourning tent was ready, saving him ten yuan; the cheapest coffin would cost twenty yuan; incense and paper money would cost five yuan; a banquet... well, forget it, he'd just treat everyone to a bowl of noodles, three yuan would be enough. A total of thirty-eight yuan, and now he'd collected forty-two, leaving him with four yuan.

He nodded in satisfaction. Although someone died, at least he didn't lose money.

Chen Feng was still awake in the small room behind the restaurant.

He sat on the bed, a sharpened dagger in his hand, its blade gleaming coldly in the dim light. He had just wiped the knife, and Liu Guangtian's blood still lingered on it—he had deliberately left a little bit unwashed.

This is the sixth one.

Liu Guangtian died, and his death was simple—one stab was all it took. Even simpler than Yan Jiecheng's death; he didn't even struggle.

Chen Feng sheathed the knife, leaned against the wall, and closed his eyes. The scene from just now replayed in his mind—Liu Guangtian's terrified face, the gushing blood, and the fallen body.

There was no pleasure, no guilt, only a cold, calm. Like stepping on an ant, nothing more.

But the mission isn't over yet. There are still many people involved.

Liu Guangfu, Yan Jiefang, Sha Zhu, Jia Zhangshi, Yi Zhonghai...

one by one.

Chen Feng opened his eyes and looked at the low ceiling. The restaurant owner had asked him a question earlier that day: "Xiao Li, who else lives in your family?"

He replied, "They're gone, they're all dead."

The boss sighed and didn't ask any more questions. But Chen Feng knew that the boss was starting to have doubts. A man in his thirties, with no family, no friends, who works silently all day, doesn't talk, and doesn't socialize—that's not normal.

He needs to move to a different place.

But he couldn't leave immediately. The situation was still tense, and the police were definitely conducting a thorough search. He needed to wait a few days, until Liu Guangtian's funeral was over, and until the police's attention shifted slightly.

Moreover, he needs to know the situation of the next target.

Liu Guangfu must be terrified right now; he'll probably take leave from work. Yan Jiefang is too. As for Sha Zhu… Sha Zhu might still go to work, but he'll definitely be more vigilant.

It's difficult to make a move.

Chen Feng thought for a moment and decided not to take action yet. He would wait a few days, until those people lowered their guard and until the police withdrew some of their forces.

He needs patience.

He took a steamed bun from under the bed, broke it in half, and ate it slowly. The bun was dry and hard, but he ate it carefully, chewing each bite for a long time.

After eating, he drank some water, then lay down and closed his eyes.

But I couldn't fall asleep. My ears were perked up, listening to the sounds outside.

There were light footsteps moving around in the yard. Was it the boss? Or...?

Chen Feng quietly got out of bed, walked behind the door, and peeked out through the crack in the door.

The courtyard was empty, with only the moonlight shining on the ground, casting a silvery white glow. There was no one there.

He went back to bed, but instead of lying down, he sat with his back against the wall.

This is safer.

Time passed slowly. Occasionally, the sound of a cat meowing could be heard outside, and the distant rumble of a passing train could be heard, but silence soon returned.

Chen Feng finally couldn't hold on any longer and fell asleep.

But he slept very lightly, and his dreams were full of blood.

The next morning, a mourning tent was set up again in the courtyard.

It was the same mourning tent, the white cloth was dirty and torn in places, but no one cared. Liu Guangtian's coffin was placed under the tent, the cheapest kind, the wooden planks so thin that light could pass through.

The Liu family sat beside the coffin. The second aunt was crying her heart out, Liu Haizhong's eyes were vacant, and Liu Guangfu kept his head down, not uttering a word. Everyone else in the courtyard came to help, but they were all absent-minded, their eyes frequently glancing towards the courtyard gate, where two policemen were standing guard.

Yan Bugui was busy collecting gifts and settling accounts. Sha Zhu was helping move tables and chairs. Jia Zhangshi was burning paper money, but her eyes were fixed on the Chen family's house, plotting how to completely take over the house.

Yi Zhonghai also came out, sitting in a wheelchair, pushed by an older woman. He looked at the mourning tent, the coffin, and the busy but fearful people, and felt a chill in his heart.

Retribution. It's all retribution.

He recalled the money he had taken from Jia Dongxu, his tacit approval of the fire, and his role in framing Chen Feng.

Now, karma has caught up with me. My hand is ruined; living is worse than being dead.

"Old Yi, come inside, it's cold outside," an older woman said softly.

Yi Zhonghai shook his head and remained silent. He looked at the mourning hall and the coffin, with only one thought in his mind: I'm next.

But he waited a long time, and Chen Feng didn't come.

Not only did they not kill him, but no one else was touched either.

For the next few days, the courtyard remained calm. Liu Guangtian was buried, the mourning tent was dismantled, and the courtyard returned to tranquility. Some of the police withdrew, leaving only two to stand guard at the courtyard gate.

It seems like everything is over.

But no one dared to let their guard down. Everyone knew that Chen Feng was still there, nearby, in the shadows, waiting.

Waiting for the next prey.

Waiting for the next killing.

Meanwhile, Chen Feng was sharpening his knife in a small room behind the restaurant.

The blade was very sharp, gleaming coldly under the light.

He polished very slowly and carefully, as if he were polishing a work of art.

He is waiting.

Waiting for an opportunity.

Waiting for someone.

Waiting for a bloodbath.