Dual wielding volcanoes, killing through the west

Despite having reached a private agreement with the Red Center Gang, in public he still played the role of a police forensic doctor to the core, without the slightest sense of incongruity.

Gordon chain-smoked, his face still flushed with anger, his expression somewhat irritable. His hair, already thinning, was now a messy, tangled mess, clearly the result of his own self-inflicted dressing-up.

During this time, several sheriffs came in to report on their work. They were immediately driven away by his angry shouts as soon as they knocked. Sergeant Gordon, usually so good-tempered, seemed like a completely different person today, throwing such a tantrum that naturally no one dared to provoke him.

Mike wasn't much better off. They had just had a heated argument, and he even slammed his fist on the table. He was even angrier now, stiffening his neck and gulping down strong liquor.

In broad daylight, half a bottle of Kentucky bourbon was consumed, and Xiaomei, watching from the side, still felt lingering fear.

Fortunately, he came with him. Only Mike's influence could withstand Gordon's anger upon hearing the news.

……

"I've almost... figured it out." After looking at it for a long time, Koby finally put down the magnifying glass and gave his conclusion. "First of all, Sheriff, this string is used on violins. Sheep intestine is just one of the raw materials. The subsequent processes are very complicated. It is made by hand and requires a lot of effort. If it was made by the same person, you will see very similar traces in the twisting technique."

"At this point, let's not waste words, Kobyin." Gordon flicked a cigarette away with his finger. "Yes or no? Give us a clear answer."

"As far as the stringing technique is concerned, I tend to think that the two strings were made by the same person."

"call……"

As soon as he finished speaking, Mike's eyes widened, and he exhaled a breath of alcohol, as if he had just let out all the pent-up frustration.

“So, Il, based solely on two strings that could be made by anyone, you’re going to assert…” Gordon shrugged, a strange, ambiguous smile on his face, “that our mayor would wrap himself up tightly in the middle of the night, wearing a hood and a raincoat, and go around killing people in the streets and alleys? And after killing them, would he hang them one by one on deer antlers?”

"As a former police officer, do you think this conclusion matches the weak chain of evidence you provided?"

Mike, however, lacked the energy to argue with him. He pointed to Gordon's chest and said, "It's 'your' mayor, Gordon, not mine. He's promoting you, not me!"

"What kind of nonsense is this!" Gordon slammed the dossier on the table, roaring, "He's your mayor too. Your daughter-in-law, your granddaughter live in this town, your home is in this town! You mean... he dismembered your son?"

"Do you know that your family's subsidies, allowances, and death benefits weren't originally that much? It was a special grant from Mayor Wendigo! If he killed your son, why would he do it? Tell me why?!"

"Ha, ha... Gordon Jansen, it's been a while. You're still the same as before, thinking things are so simple."

Instead of getting angry, Mike laughed and shook his head, his tone carrying a hint of sympathy. "Do you still think he killed them because he had a personal grudge against someone?"

"Unfortunately, no. In that monster's eyes, we weren't human at all, we were livestock; he was the only human!"

"He kills others like a butcher slaughters livestock, needing no reason whatsoever. As for any compensation... it's just a few pennies to maintain this facade of a good person. To him, that amount is probably not even a fraction of what's in his account."

“You’re not calm, Il. I understand that you’re not calm about this, I completely understand.” Gordon finally shook his head violently, whether denying the statement itself or denying himself, it was unclear. “But you shouldn’t be talking nonsense like this. Whatever you’re thinking, stop right there!”

He waved his hand forcefully, indicating that the matter should be dropped and there was no need to discuss it further.

“On the contrary, Gordon, I’m as calm as can be when it comes to this.” Mike’s tone did change. “You’re one of the best cops I’ve ever trained… You may lack a bit of improvisation skills, but you have a solid foundation.”

"Something seems off, but it might just be a coincidence."

"But with so many odd things going on together, it's no coincidence—the two strings, the tongue that was picked up, and the area where Sean disappeared at the end. Only he fits all three. Who else would you suspect if not him?"

“Deep down, you know I’m right. You just don’t want to face it. That’s okay, I understand… but you also have to think about the brats under your command.”

Gordon's pupils dilated slightly when Sean was mentioned.

The Australian shrike never leaves anyone alive. If he didn't take action soon and things dragged on like this, the next time he saw Sean might be on the antlers. At least Mike and the others brought clues; before they knocked on the police station door, he was completely clueless. This town of White Torch was so big, he had no idea where to even begin his search.

……

He stared at the letter written by Wendigo on the wall for a long time, gritted his teeth, and after a fierce internal struggle, finally convinced himself.

"According to what you've said..." Gordon's tone softened slightly, "right now, someone is already conducting a thorough search of the mayor's house?"

“Bruce Zhang,” Mike said in a deep voice, “you know him.”

"...The guy who killed 25 people in the mental hospital?" Gordon rolled his eyes, a rare occurrence. "He didn't tear the building down, did he?"

"Don't worry, Chief Gordon, Mr. Zhang is very sensible," Xiaomei quickly assured him. "It's still in the search phase, so it definitely won't cause any damage..."

----

"boom-----!!"

With a burst of strength, Zhang Renfeng slightly pushed aside the four-tiered bookcase, then picked up a table and smashed it against the wall where the bookcase was located, creating a hole in it! With a loud bang, wood chips flew out like splashes of water, and glimmers of light shone through from the inside, confirming his suspicion that there was indeed a secret compartment on the other side of the wall.

They were separated from this dark secret by only a wall.

"Alana, step back," Zhang Renfeng instructed. "Step back a little more."

"call……"

The walls themselves were also made of wood; to put it bluntly, they were just thicker wooden planks.

Taking a deep breath, Zhang Renfeng lowered his center of gravity, touched the ground with his toes, and transformed into a ferocious porcupine, charging wildly and smashing through the door with his shoulder. With a "boom," he completely shattered the wooden wall! The moment he rushed into the wall, he didn't smell a strong stench of blood, which made him breathe a sigh of relief for the time being.

It was less a secret room and more a place where he processed "meat".

Large cleavers, small meat cleavers, and all sorts of kitchen utensils and cutting boards are readily available.

Several iron hooks hung from the high ceiling, empty of anything, yet gleaming with the cold, metallic light of metal, exuding an eerie atmosphere.

……

"Waaaaah! Waaaaah...!"

Sean was tied to a chair, his limbs firmly secured by knots, unable to move. His mouth wasn't gagged, but he could only make these kinds of sounds. Although he saw someone coming to rescue him, the terror in his eyes was still hard to erase.

Noticing the bloodstains at the corner of his mouth that were not yet completely dry, Zhang Renfeng frowned.

"What's wrong?" Alana also crawled in through the small hole. "Is the person still alive?"

"Still alive, but..."

Wendigo pulled out his tongue.

Chapter 177: Caused by Long-Term Vegetarianism

"Pull out...the tongue..."

The cannibalism rumors were just speculation before, without any strong evidence, so subconsciously, Alana never took them seriously.

It wasn't until the bloody evidence was laid bare before him, and he saw a once carefree and outgoing person now acting like a frightened animal, even instinctively wanting to run away when Zhang Renfeng untied him, that a sense of fear rose from the soles of his feet and chilled him to the top of his head.

Yes, Wendigo didn't treat him as a human being at all, but just as an "ingredient"... whenever he wanted to eat him, he would cut off a part of him.

Among the group of people in the mental hospital, one of them is missing a tongue.

"He's going to die, isn't he?" Alana exclaimed. "Isn't there always this saying about 'biting your tongue to commit suicide'? How come he's still alive..."

“A typical suicide by biting off one’s tongue actually involves swallowing the severed half of the tongue, which blocks the trachea and causes choking,” Zhang Renfeng explained as he untied the man. “But the tongue bleeds very easily. Even a small bite will cause a lot of blood to gush out of the mouth, making it look frightening. In fact, if the incision is made at the base of the tongue, there won’t be much bleeding.”

“No matter what, we have to get him to the hospital first. No matter how clean the wound is, he still needs professional treatment.” After thinking for a moment, Zhang Renfeng quickly made a decision, “I’ll take him.”

“Let me go,” Alana volunteered. “My Foxtrot is faster!”

“I know, but your Foxtrot is too small. It can comfortably carry one person, but if there’s another person, there won’t be enough space. If we go any faster, the ride will be extremely bumpy, and it could easily reopen the wound.”

With one hand supporting him, Zhang Renfeng lifted the adult man onto his shoulder as if carrying a sack of flour, without even panting. "My Turkmen horse has a broad back and is more suitable for this."

"Your mission is to relay the latest information to the police station. Remember, everything must be done covertly, absolutely..."

"boom----!!"

With his right arm used to support people, Zhang Renfeng used his left hand to press down on the three-tiered bookcase, his arm straight, instantly highlighting his chiseled muscles. With a dull thud, he shoved the bookcase back with brute force, barely covering the hole in the wooden wall.

Fortunately, the floor was also black, and there were only slight scratches, so they weren't noticeable at first glance.

"Don't make a big fuss. Wendigo is very perceptive. If he senses anything is wrong, he will run away. If we miss this opportunity, it will be difficult to catch him again."

……

"Woo..."

Sean seemed to suddenly come to his senses, and with his still trembling hands, he forcefully removed the holster from his belt and tossed it to Alana.

"woo woo woo woo!"

He gestured with his hands, and amidst his indistinct voice, more blood oozed from the corner of his mouth, as if any slight movement would aggravate the wound at the base of his tongue.

However, even as he coughed up blood, the burning hatred in his eyes remained undiminished by the dark and gloomy chamber.

Gordon may not be convinced of this fact, but with his holster present, it would be more convincing.

"Understood...Understood!" Zhang Renfeng was initially shocked that the young man had endured such torture yet still refused to yield. Then, he felt a surge of respect for the young man and patted his hand, promising, "This isn't over. I'll make sure he dies a horrible death!"

----

Mesvid-Chidel Bank, VIP reception room.

"What's wrong, Mr. Lecter? Is it not to your liking?"

"..." Wendigo glanced at the cold dish in front of him, then raised his gaze until he finally took in the man sitting opposite him.

The handmade grey suit fit the man perfectly. He appeared to be in excellent physical condition, without the bulkiness often associated with middle age. Sitting opposite him, his back was ramrod straight. Perhaps due to poor eyesight, his eyes were squinted, making them difficult to see. Yet, his expression remained perpetually smiling, as if the smile were welded to his face.

In interpersonal communication, language accounts for about 30% of the information conveyed. The remaining 70% is conveyed through body language, eye contact, and micro-expressions.

His narrowed eyes concealed his true gaze.

A stable sitting posture, without revealing any unnecessary body movements.

A constant smile replaces subtle facial expressions, as if wearing a mask of personality.

McCann Mesvid, the bank's founder and Chedel's partner, was considered a formidable rival by Wendigo in the town.

……

“Yeah, are you going to eat or not?” Quella, sitting to the side, showed no interest in the matter. She tossed her hair and rudely snatched the oysters from Wendigo’s plate. “If you’re not going to eat them, give them to me.”

Wendigo glanced at the food on the plate. "Oysters, acorns, brandy—the ancient Roman nobility used these to feed their animals, making their meat more flavorful."

“Humans are animals too, Mayor Lecter,” McCann smiled, raising his glass to him. “I’m a vegetarian.”

“Are you?” Wendigo asked calmly.

“Yes. I try not to eat animals with central nervous systems.” McCann delicately used a knife to pry open the oyster shell, rolled up the soft meat inside with a fork, put it in his mouth, and swallowed it slowly. “Somehow, this feeling of guilt seems to lessen.”

“I never feel guilty about what I eat,” Wendigo said calmly. “Since we’re on this topic, I’m hosting a banquet tonight. Perhaps I’ll have the honor of inviting you, Mr. Mesvid?”

“Let’s not, because I’ve been a vegetarian for a long time, and my tastes… are probably quite different from yours.” McCann easily changed the subject of their meal, smiling as he said, “It’s rare for us to get together here, so let’s talk about serious matters.”

"It's time to get down to business." Quira licked the juice off his fingers, then popped an acorn into his mouth, crunching it loudly. "The Wolf Shepherd Gang is gone. Who's going to fill the hole they left behind? You're not really counting on that yellow-skinned bastard, are you?"

"is it not OK?"

"Hmph..." Quira spat out the hard shell of the acorn, pulled out a large stack of papers from his pocket, and slammed them on the table. "Name, identity, experience, all fake. Is this something a normal person would do? Keeping such a guy of unknown origin by your side, be careful he doesn't turn around and bite you one day."

Wendigo didn't touch the documents, but instead gave him a meaningful look.

"You've investigated all of this?"

“Ha.” Quira shook her head, her face full of disdain. “You really think the Cold Cicada Gang is a pushover? If I wanted to, there’s no secret I couldn’t uncover. You, and you…”

He raised another finger, casually pointing to McCain as well, "They're all the same, hehe."

After saying that, he picked up his glass again and drank the brandy in large gulps.

McCain and Wendigo exchanged a glance, both seeing a hint of helplessness in each other's eyes.

"In that case, our friend must be aware of the recent uproar in White Torch Town, right?"

“…I don’t like your tone, Mesvid. You’d better remember, your relationship with the EU is one of mutual cooperation and exploitation. You’re only responsible for providing the money, receiving the money, and splitting the profits; you have no say in business matters.” Quira’s expression was slightly somber. “And then what?”

“Red Center.” Wendigo swirled his glass, letting the aroma of the wine rise and cleanse his keen sense of smell, before saying leisurely, “He’s still active around White Torch Town.”

Chapter 178: At times like these, it's better to stay still than to act.

Looking at the holster on the table, Gordon slumped into his chair, supporting his chin with his hands, his eyes somewhat glazed over.

Ever since this crucial piece of evidence arrived, he felt as if he'd been shot in the chest, utterly dejected. He mechanically gulped down cup after cup of hot coffee, filling the entire office with a sour, bitter smell.

Apart from Captain Mike and Zhang Renfeng, who had ridden all the way from the clinic to the clinic after settling Sean in, everyone else was refused service and turned away at the door.

The moment Zhang Renfeng entered, he noticed something amiss—the Wendigo handwritten thank-you letter that he considered a pillar of support and had framed on the wall had been removed, leaving only an empty square mark.

Against this dark background, this patch of pure white stands out starkly.

"Is this holster heavy enough?" Mike crossed his arms and resumed his menacing, deadpan gaze. "Or do we need more evidence to prove that the guy in human skin is a troublemaking beast?"

“…No need.” Gordon finally let out a long sigh, resting his head on the back of the sofa as if all his energy had been drained. He murmured, “This is a gift for him. He was the best shot in this batch of new recruits. As an encouragement, the best new recruits will be given a holster. The style, the color, even the part that has changed color from rubbing is the same.”

"It's him right."

Gordon squinted. "So, the person... is saved?"