Desperate people, accept the seed of my soul!

Top floor of the inpatient department of the Fifth District Hospital.

This is a supervised ward established through cooperation between the police department and the hospital, converted from a regular ward.

Chen Guohua was placed on a hospital bed in the innermost room.

Although it's called "residential surveillance," in some ways the conditions here are much better than his cold, damp home.

The air conditioner kept the temperature constant, the bedding was clean, and the nutrient solution and dialysis equipment were slowly dripping into his veins.

A young police officer named Zhang, who was in charge of guarding Chen Guohua, sat on a chair outside the ward and monitored him.

Time passed in silence, and a sense of boredom gradually spread.

To shake off his drowsiness, he casually turned on the wall-mounted TV hanging in the corner.

The screen lights up and defaults to the local news channel, with the volume turned down very low.

Chen Guohua lay on the bed with his eyes closed, seemingly asleep.

In reality, he was sensing the dormant seed within his body.

As the violent energy subsided, although the feeling of depletion in the body was intense, the suffocating feeling of impending death was actually relieved with the support of medication from the hospital.

This was part of his plan—to use the medical resources provided by the police to buy himself time for recovery and observation.

The television broadcast the somewhat monotonous sound of the evening news.

"...Now for a local news report. The city police have issued a statement regarding the recent disappearance of a woman in the Fifth District. The search and rescue operation is still ongoing. The missing person is Xu Suyuan, female, 22 years old, a live streamer on an online platform. Police are appealing to the public for information..."

Chen Guohua's eyelids twitched slightly, but he did not open his eyes.

Such disappearances are not uncommon in Chenxi City. Even though Chen Guohua has had less and less contact with the outside world since he became seriously ill, he has vaguely heard of several such cases.

The news footage then shifts.

"Next is a financial news item. The Wei Group announced today that it has donated another five million yuan to the Chenxi City Poor College Students Foundation. Mr. Wei Zixuan, Executive Director of the Group, personally attended the donation ceremony and stated that the Wei Group will continue to pay attention to the city's educational and public welfare undertakings."

Wei Zixuan.

The real culprit.

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The name struck Chen Guohua like an electric current, instantly piercing his consciousness.

Chen Guohua suddenly opened his eyes and turned to look at the television screen in the corner.

On the screen, spotlights flashed.

A young man is standing on the podium, holding up a huge donation check plaque.

He looked to be no more than thirty-five or thirty-six years old, with a gentle and refined smile on his lips.

Facing the camera, he spoke eloquently, his eyes revealing a compassionate concern, as if he were truly a philanthropist who cared deeply for students from impoverished families.

"...Education is the foundation of a nation, and the Wei Group has always been committed to helping young people with dreams. I don't want to see any talented student have their wings clipped because of poverty..."

Wei Zixuan's voice came through the television speakers; it was mellow, magnetic, and captivating.

What a perfect appearance.

What a beautiful lie.

Chen Guohua stared intently at the smiling face on the screen, his hands, hidden under the blanket, gradually tightening, his nails digging deep into the flesh of his palms.

This is the person.

This well-dressed beast, just because he took a fancy to Xiaoyu, was able to wantonly destroy her life;

Because they didn't want to take legal responsibility, they could use millions to bribe lawyers and Zhao Qiang's family to smear the victim as a slut.

Now, however, he stands in the spotlight, enjoying flowers and applause, using the name of "charity" to gild himself.

How absurd this world is.

The screen at the bottom scrolls through information about Wei Zixuan's upcoming schedule:

"...Mr. Wei Zixuan will attend the annual charity gala dinner held this Friday evening at the 'Genting Palace' Hotel in the city center, where many more political and business figures will be present..."

Friday.

Heavenly Palace on the Cloud Top.

Chen Guohua loosened his clenched fist; his palms were already bleeding from being pinched.

He closed his eyes again, but this time, the dormant "seed of the soul" in his chest began to beat slowly and powerfully once more.

He silently memorized the time and place.

Since the law cannot reach that glamorous class, and since the sunlight cannot shine on those sewers filled with money.

Then let his broken body, which has crawled back from hell, drag that person standing on the clouds into the mud.

------

Fifth District Police Station, Criminal Investigation Division Office.

The ashtray was piled high with twisted cigarette butts, and the strong smell of tobacco fermented into an unsettling odor.

Lei Zhen sat behind his desk, his brows furrowed in a deep frown.

It was 3 p.m. on Friday, more than 40 hours after the massacre of Zhao Dayou's family.

He no longer compared the two contradictory reports—the irrefutable fingerprint DNA from the trace evidence department and the hospital's diagnosis of myasthenia gravis that "couldn't even open a mineral water bottle"—this deadlock had been chewed over too many times.

Lei Zhen's current focus is entirely on finding a "third possibility".

Since Chen Guohua is physically incapable of killing, there are only two possible conclusions:

First, someone framed him.

Did someone meticulously collect Chen Guohua's skin flakes, blood, and even fingerprint molds to fabricate the crime scene?

Second, there was someone to help.

Was there a strong accomplice who carried out the crime behind Chen Guohua's back, or who held his hand and stabbed him with a knife?

"Boss." Liu Wei pushed open the door and came in, holding a newly compiled investigation form in his hand. His face was even more grim than before. "All the peripheral investigations are finished."

Lei Zhen suddenly raised his head, his eyes bloodshot: "Tell me in detail?"

"The forensic department conducted a second review. The fingerprint showed obvious sweat gland pores and sebum secretion characteristics. The skin texture at the pressure point was dynamically deformed by compression, and the skin flakes were extracted from deep within the rib crevices of the deceased. Old Wang guarantees that this is definitely not a fingerprint imprinted after death or a forged mold, unless someone cut off Chen Guohua's hand and brought it to the scene."

"What about the accomplices?" Lei Zhen pressed.

Liu Wei shook his head and handed the report to Lei Zhen: "We investigated thoroughly. In the past five years, Chen Guohua has only been going to the hospital and staying at home. His social relationships are very clean. There are no phone records, no mysterious financial transactions, and the neighbors all confirmed that he is a loner. Let alone accomplices, he doesn't even have a friend who can help push his wheelchair."

It's not a frame-up.

There was no help.

All the logical loops collapsed at that moment, leaving only Chen Guohua lying on the hospital bed, barely alive.

Lei Zhen grabbed the car keys from the table and stood up abruptly: "Let's go to the hospital again."

"Now?" Liu Wei was taken aback. "The doctor said he just finished dialysis and is currently in a deep sleep."

"Even if he's unconscious, I have to see him." Lei Zhen strode out. "The conventional investigation has reached a dead end. The only way to break through is to look at Chen Guohua himself. I want to see with my own eyes what else is hidden beneath this frail body that we haven't yet figured out."