Siheyuan (traditional courtyard house): Starting with the Korean War, returning home to take charge

News of Yamada Ichiro's disappearance spread throughout the Metropolitan Police Department the following morning.

He Yuzhu huddled in the abandoned warehouse, munching on a rice ball he'd pilfered from a convenience store, while scrolling through news feeds on the system. He couldn't understand Japanese, but the system thoughtfully translated the headlines—"Yasukuni Shrine Priest Mysteriously Disappears, Police Launch Investigation."

He swallowed the rice ball and took a sip of water.

There are still 1199 people on the list.

On the third night, he adjusted his strategy.

Staking out is too slow. Killing them one by one would take a month. He flipped through the map in the system, dividing Tokyo into six districts, and marking dozens of targets in each district.

1 a.m., Adachi Ward.

The first shop was a general store, with its roller shutter half-closed. He Yuzhu climbed in through the back window, stepping on a pile of empty wine bottles and nearly slipping. The house smelled strongly of mildew, mixed with the odor of salted fish, making his eyes sting.

The target was snoring in bed, bald, fat, his face turned towards the ceiling, his mouth wide open. On the bedside table was a photograph of an elderly man in military uniform, his face stern, medals pinned to his chest.

He Yuzhu stared at the photo for two seconds.

Grandfather. Military police. Nanjing.

He pulled a dagger from behind his waist.

As the blade sliced ​​across his throat, the man's eyes snapped open, his mouth gaping, but he couldn't utter a sound. Blood gushed out, staining the pillow a dark red, like a splash of ink.

He Yuzhu waited until he stopped moving, then cut off his head and put it into the system space.

It took less than three minutes in total.

As he stepped out the door, a stray cat in the alley meowed. He paused for a moment, then disappeared into the darkness.

2:00 AM, Arakawa Ward.

The taxi had just pulled into the parking space when the headlights went out. The driver, a thin man in his forties, got out of the car, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He stood by the car, took a few puffs, flicked off the ash, and walked towards his house.

He Yuzhu came out from behind the utility pole and followed.

As they reached the door and the driver reached for his keys, He Yuzhu covered his mouth. With a knife to his neck, the man froze, his cigarette butt falling to the ground and sparks flying.

"Your grandfather was in the 16th Division?"

The driver couldn't understand the Japanese, but he understood the tone and the place name. He started to struggle, elbowing himself backward and making muffled noises.

A knife.

The body went limp and slid slowly to the ground against the door. Its head was tilted to the side, its eyes still open, staring at the dim streetlight at the alley entrance.

After finishing his hair, He Yuzhu glanced at the cigarette butt that had fallen to the ground. The embers were still burning; they flickered briefly before going out again.

3 a.m., Taitung District.

The apartment building has five floors and no elevator. He Yuzhu climbed up through the fire escape. The motion-sensor lights in the hallway flickered on and off, and a large patch of plaster had peeled off the walls, revealing the gray cement underneath.

The door to the first house was ajar.

Just as he reached out, the person inside suddenly burst open the door, brandishing a kitchen knife and slashing at him. He Yuzhu dodged to the side and kicked the man in the stomach, sending him stumbling backward and knocking over the shoe cabinet.

The noise was too loud. Someone next door shouted in Japanese, which I couldn't understand, but they were definitely asking what was wrong.

He Yuzhu had no time. He lunged forward, pinned the man's head down, and stabbed him.

The door next door opened, and someone poked their head out. Seeing a person dressed in black in the hallway, they shrank back in fright and slammed the door shut.

He Yuzhu dragged the corpse into the house, closed the door, and put the head away. The whole thing took less than a minute.

The door to the second apartment wasn't closed properly, leaving a crack. He pushed it open and went inside. The apartment was dark, with only a little light coming from the bedroom. Two people, a man and a woman, were asleep on the bed.

He walked up to the man, raised the dagger, and held it in mid-air.

The woman turned over, groggily opened her eyes, and saw a dark figure standing at the head of the bed. Her mouth opened, about to shout—

He Yuzhu slit the man's throat with a knife, and covered the woman's mouth with his other hand. The woman struggled, scratching his hand until it bled. He waited until she stopped moving before releasing her.

The two corpses lay side by side. The woman's eyes were still open when she died, and the faint moonlight from the window was reflected in her pupils.

He cut off both heads, turned around, and went out.

The third apartment was at the end of the corridor. The door was closed, and there was no light inside. He had just reached the door when he heard movement inside—footsteps, very light, and more than one person.

The door opened suddenly.

A man rushed out, wielding a baseball bat, and swung it at him. He Yuzhu jumped back, and the bat hit the wall, chipping off a piece of plaster.

Two more people rushed out of the house, one carrying a knife and the other empty-handed.

Three against one.

He Yuzhu didn't back down. He lunged forward, grabbed the wrist of the man holding the baseball bat, twisted it, and the man screamed as the bat fell to the ground. He kicked the man away, and his dagger slashed across the neck of the second man.

He turned around to run away on the third turn, but was caught up from behind and stabbed in the lower back.

After collecting the three heads, he leaned against the wall and took a few breaths.

Blood flowed down the wall, pooling at the feet. The motion-sensor lights in the corridor went out, then came on, then went out again, flashing intermittently.

5:00 AM, Edogawa Ward.

This is a workers' area; the houses are cramped and the alleys are narrow. He Yuzhu had just finished his twenty-first meal when footsteps came from the alley entrance.

He pressed himself against the wall and held his breath.

Two patrolling policemen walked by, their flashlight beams sweeping across the ground. One said something, and the other chuckled. The beams stopped at the alleyway where he was hiding, then moved away.

He only emerged from behind the wall after the footsteps had faded into the distance and continued walking forward.

It was six o'clock in the morning, and dawn was breaking.

He Yuzhu squatted on the roof of a house, panting heavily. He was covered in blood, and his clothes were sticky and clinging to his skin. He put the last head into his system space and glanced at the time.

Five fifty-eight.

Forty-seven in one night.

The sound of police sirens blared in the distance, one after another. He stood up, jumped from the rooftop to the low house next to him, then jumped down and disappeared into the alley.

In the warehouse, he lined up the forty-seven heads in a row.

Forty-seven faces, each with a different expression. Some were terrified, some were contorted, some had their eyes closed, and some were still open. He squatted there, looking at them, and suddenly felt a little nauseous.

His stomach churned, and he leaned against the wall, dry heaving a few times, but nothing came out.

My mind went blank.

[Number of viewers in the live stream: 4,567,890]

[Bullet Comments]

Holy crap, forty-seven in one night? Streamer, are you even human?

The descendants of war criminals deserved to die!

My grandfather is from Nanjing, and he cried uncontrollably when he saw this.

Let's give a tip!

[User "Nanjing Massacre Memorial Hall" donated 1,000,000 points: Thank you on behalf of 300,000 compatriots]

[User "Passionate Youth" tipped 500,000 points: The streamer is awesome!]

[User "Tokyo Student" commented: Holy crap, I'm in Tokyo, and I just passed through Arakawa Ward and saw a circle of police cars. Turns out it was the streamer who did it! My classmate said his neighbor died this morning, headless! His father used to be a Japanese soldier!]

[User "History Teacher" commented: I just checked, and several of these war criminals' descendants are still involved in Japanese politics and business! Serves them right!]

[User "Avengers" commented in the live chat: Streamer, could you make the next person die a little more gruesomely? My great-grandfather was burned alive by the Japanese devils.]

He Yuzhu stared at the comment and remained silent for a few seconds.

He opened his private message and replied with two words.

"address."