Nightmare Apostle

After wiping away his tears, Zhao Xuejun recounted everything that had happened in detail, making everyone frown from time to time as they listened.

"You said you heard that Ghost’s footsteps. Did you smell anything burnt, like a scorched Hu smell?" Yang Xiao pressed him.

"No, no burnt Hu smell, but... but there was a bloody stench, really pungent." Zhao Xuejun nodded, his expression grave.

Ye Zheng thought for a moment at this. "Doesn’t sound like a Source Ghost. It should be a Chang Ghost with its face flayed off."

"I agree. If it were a Source Ghost, it wouldn’t be that easy to deal with. And so far, there hasn’t been a direct lethal attack inside the Cultural Palace." Yang Xiao paused, then added, "That man in the ballroom who was scared to death by the corpse doesn’t count."

After these few attacks, Yang Xiao and the others had summed up some experience. Yang Xiao judged that all of these were Chang Ghosts killed by the Source Ghost, now causing trouble.

The true Source Ghost—once it makes a move, it kills. And the Source Ghost only acts late at night, after they’ve already left the Cultural Palace.

Yang Xiao had also been attacked by Ghosts in the Cultural Palace, more than once, but it later turned out that the one attacking him was Master Zhang, who was in charge of maintaining the film equipment—also a Chang Ghost.

And the Ghost Zhao Xuejun and the others ran into tonight had no burnt Hu smell but did have a bloody stench, so it was very likely also a victim whose face had been flayed off in a horrible death, now turned into a Chang Ghost.

"Then why were you making that move just now? I mean, covering each other’s eyes." That was what Ye Zheng was genuinely curious about.

On this point, Zhao Xuejun explained, "I noticed that this Ghost’s vision seems off. If we don’t move, it barely moves either."

"But if we look at it, then it starts moving, and it tracks us very fast. At the time we couldn’t find the door, we had no way to outrun it."

"So you mean this sighting is mutual: only if you see it first can it lock onto your position." Yang Xiao had been smart since he was a kid, his comprehension was sharp.

"Yes, yes, exactly!" Zhao Xuejun nodded repeatedly. He didn’t know how to put his feelings into words, so Yang Xiao said it for him.

"You were worried someone among you would be tricked by the Ghost into opening their eyes, so you came up with this idea: the two of you cover each other’s eyes." Yang Xiao couldn’t help looking at Zhao Xuejun with a bit more respect. "Not bad. Very clever."

This Zhao Xuejun was also a survivor who had cleared two tasks, and in this task he was second only to Yang Xiao and Ye Zheng.

Though he couldn’t compare to the experts Yang Xiao had run into in previous tasks, he was still decent enough; Yang Xiao’s standards weren’t that high.

Hearing Yang Xiao praise him, Zhao Xuejun immediately flattered him, saying it was just petty cleverness, nothing that could be put on the table compared to Captain Ma’s great wisdom.

Everyone knew Yang Xiao wasn’t someone who liked being buttered up, but what Zhao Xuejun said was in fact true, so he didn’t pursue it.

Just then, footsteps sounded from the corridor outside the door. Yang Xiao had only just stepped out when he ran into Chief Zhou coming straight toward him.

"What are you doing here? I was still looking for you downstairs." Chief Zhou said.

"We were discussing some things. Well? Any leads?" Yang Xiao pressed.

Seeing Chief Zhou glance past him at the people behind, Yang Xiao took the hint and immediately dismissed the team, telling everyone to go back and rest first.

Once everyone had left, only Yang Xiao, Ye Zheng, and Captain Zhou were left at the scene, with two people from the Security Section guarding the door outside.

Chief Zhou invited the two of them to sit. The three sat around the table. Chief Zhou took a deep breath and briefly sorted out his thoughts. "There’s quite a lot. I’ll tell you one thing at a time."

"Your suspicion was correct: there really was a problem with that case back then. I’m now inclined to think Zhou Wenqing was wronged—the real killer is someone else."

As Chief Zhou spoke, he took out a rough little notebook from his pocket. After opening it, they saw page after page densely filled with steel pen writing.

Chief Zhou wet his finger with a little spit and flipped to a page. "We carefully went through the files of the assault case from back then, and we visited some of the old workers from those days, including employees who worked in the same workshop as Zhou Wenqing and people who had contact with him. We found the following doubts."

"First of all, the case was wrapped up far too hastily. The Ominous Instrument used by the killer was never found in the end."

"According to Zhou Wenqing, after he committed the crime a second time, he became afraid and worried about being caught, so he destroyed the Ominous Instrument in advance and threw it into the lake. We have no way to verify that."

"Then there were the injuries on Zhou Wenqing’s hands. That also can’t be used as ironclad evidence to nail him down."

"We investigated. He was a worker in Workshop No. 2. Workshop No. 2 did relatively dangerous work, constantly dealing with machinery—washing, clamping, polishing. Getting hurt if you weren’t careful was very common. The other old employees who worked in Workshop No. 2 can confirm this."

"And then there were the so‑called iron shoes. That’s even stranger. Would anyone really wear such heavy, cumbersome shoes to commit a crime? Zhou Wenqing isn’t an idiot."

"That detail looks more like a frame‑up, a disguise the real killer used to divert the direction of the investigation."

"We visited more than a dozen people who had dealings with Zhou Wenqing back then. Everyone’s general impression of him wasn’t very good."

"He was very odd—withdrawn, unsociable, taciturn. No one knew what he liked or what hobbies he had."

"But there’s one thing: Zhou Wenqing often came to the factory’s Cultural Palace and would sit there for an entire evening, only going back when it was almost closing time. He always chose some remote, dark corner to sit in. He didn’t interact with anyone, just sat there quietly watching."