novelraw Chapter 1180: Puppet Strings
Chapter 1180: Puppet Strings
In the upper-floor restroom of the academic building, Zhao Le stood alone before the mirror.
His hair was wet and hung down in clumps. His lips were pale—an obvious sign of enduring pain. He took a deep breath as his trembling hands slowly unbuttoned his shirt.
Beneath the parted fabric, bruises could be seen across his chest and abdomen. Zhao Le ran his fingers over them—each touch brought a burning sting of pain.
Thud—!
Suddenly, Zhao Le slammed a fist down on the sink.
Thud—!
He hit the same spot again—slowly, deliberately.
Thud, thud, thud, thud—!!
Blow after blow, he pounded the sink while staring into the mirror, eyes unblinking. He was completely silent.
This went on for several minutes before he finally stopped. His knuckles were red and bleeding. Taking a deep breath, he buttoned up his shirt, returned his expression to normal, and walked out.The next moment, the door to one of the stalls slowly opened—it was Chen Mingming.
Leaning against the doorframe, Chen Mingming stared at the spot Zhao Le had just left, thoughtful.
He hadn’t intended to be there, only to find a quiet place to study the strange pistol in his possession.
After three experiments, Chen Mingming had developed a basic understanding of its functions.
First: The bullets it fired ignored space and distance. The actual range remained unknown—he thought of testing it on someone across the ocean. But the “space-ignoring” effect was confirmed—when a suspect died in custody, Chen Mingming immediately received feedback through the silver pistol.
Second: Difficulty. The easier the target, the lower the life force cost to create the bullet. The more difficult, the more it consumed. Once the bullet formed, the user would feel something drawn from them.
Third: Conditions. Aside from sacrificing life force to form bullets, something else seemed required. This wasn’t from the gun seller’s instructions—just Chen Mingming’s intuition.
He had attempted to re-enter that mysterious place, but failed. It seemed some condition must be met first.
“Let’s try one more test,” he murmured to himself.
After leaving the restroom, Chen Mingming spotted Gao Wen standing alone on the open floor between levels, leaning against a railing and staring into the distance, clearly deep in thought.
Chen Mingming’s hand began to glow faintly. The pistol materialized again, and in his other palm, a translucent bullet began to form. He hadn’t infused it with life yet, but he already knew how much would be needed.
Soon, though, he dispelled both the gun and bullet.
“Same cost as before… fixed targets consume fixed values?” he muttered, choosing to take a different path to avoid passing by Gao Wen.
…
Not long after Liu Minghao and Wei Zidào left, they arrived at the local branch office of the Management Bureau. After being received by a few clerical staff, they settled into the dormitory.
With no full-time agents stationed there, the facilities were basic—but livable.
The two began to review their mission.
“Brother Hao, what now?” Wei Zidào lay on the bed with his hands behind his head. “We went to the scene, checked the body—no trace of anything. The method used was beyond the detection range of our gear. Could it be a high-level demon? Or a cultivator with strong Daoist skills?”
Liu Minghao said nothing. He took out the container with the strange tumor inside. A yellow talisman was stuck to it, emanating cold energy and simulating low temperature. Liu Minghao silently observed the growth’s activity.
Wei Zidào continued rambling, “Could be a curse-killing? There was no sign of vital essence drained, nor soul loss or life-force devouring. So maybe not… revenge? But come on, Brother Hao, say something!”
Liu Minghao finally replied calmly, “In cases like this, we typically list it as a cold case.”
“Cold case? What do you mean?” Wei sat up, curious—he was still relatively new to the field. After the Mount Tai incident, manpower shortages gave him a chance to work field duty.
Liu Minghao explained, “Aside from us who handle Daoist and demon matters, there are also cultivators roaming the mortal world. Most do so for worldly experience. Some are focused on justice—eliminating evil. Famous groups include the Heavenly Dao Sect of Dragon-Tiger Mountain, and the Mount Mao sect.”
“And?”
“They can’t stand injustice. They follow ancient ways—kill evil without mercy. If they come across a demon doing harm, they’ll strike. That saves us the trouble. But if the target is human, it’s more complicated.”
Wei understood. “You mean the victim might’ve been taken out by some vigilante cultivator…” He made a slicing gesture across his neck.
Liu Minghao said plainly, “That guy committed rape and murder. What do you think?”
Wei frowned, “But he already confessed. He was probably going to be sentenced—maybe not death, but life at least. No need to interfere, right?”
Liu shook his head. “You don’t get how these people think. To them, someone like that shouldn’t live another day. From arrest to trial to sentencing could take a long time. And if the family pulls strings, he might avoid the death penalty entirely.”
“I see…” Wei sighed.
Liu waved a hand. “These rogue cultivators do what they want, based on their own standards. They only kill the wicked. Most times, we just turn a blind eye. We can’t argue over someone who deserved to die. Honestly, I’d kill such scum too—but we’re public servants. If we cross the line, it’s over.”
“So… we’re just assuming some righteous vigilante did it?”
Liu shook his head. “I can’t be sure. But this area is the Dragon Consultant’s personal domain. Similar things have happened before. Like two years ago—there was a big demon named Sun Xiaosheng. A druggie pushed his own mother off a building for money. That demon skinned the guy alive and hung him up. In the end, nothing came of it. We’re not going to fight a demon over someone like that, are we?”
“Fair enough…” Wei exhaled, looking resigned.
“We’ll investigate for a few more days. If nothing turns up, we’ll report it truthfully. HQ will make the evaluation.” Liu Minghao said casually, then raised the container in his hand. “Right now, I’m more concerned about what’s inside this thing. It looks... disturbingly strange. Go file a request and get us some detection equipment. I’ll start analyzing it in the meantime.”
“Got it.”
…
…
Night fell. Neon lights flashed. Alcohol loosened inhibitions.
In the alley behind a bar, a man had both hands restrained—another man, wearing a thick gold chain, was punching him repeatedly in the stomach, hard enough that blood spilled from his mouth.
He was already tipsy, not fully conscious. Now with the beating, he was retching bitter liquid mixed with blood.
“You bastard, Qian Er. Got money to chase girls, but not to pay your debt? Huh?”
“No… no, Brother Xiao… g-give me a chance, just three days! I swear I’ll pay you back!” Qian Er begged, voice shaking. “You kill me now, you won’t get a dime! Give me three days! My family—my boss gets a pension—”
“Trash.” The man called Brother Xiao landed another vicious blow, knocking Qian Er to the ground. He spat on him and said coldly, “Three days. You don’t pay up, I’ll break your legs. Let’s go.”
Brother Xiao and his men left.
Qian Er lay on the ground, clutching his stomach, unable to stand. He was drunk, in pain, muttering, “Damn… smiling bastard… one day, I’ll gut you… Who… who’s there?!”
Panic surged through him. Someone was approaching—he feared it was Brother Xiao coming back. The alley was too dark, and he couldn’t make out who it was from the ground.
The person crouched down. In their hand was… a bottle of baijiu. Qian Er had no strength to resist, and the figure forcefully poured the liquor down his throat. He choked and swallowed painfully.
Already bloated with beer and battered, Qian Er felt worse with the burning liquor. In moments, his vision blurred, stars in his eyes. “Who… who… I’ll kill you—”
“Do you want to kill the person who just beat you?” the voice asked calmly.
“Kill… who?” Qian Er groaned, crawling to sit up against the wall.
“Brother Xiao.”
It was a young-sounding voice.
Qian Er retched again, head lolling side to side against the wall. “Kill… kill that bastard… hehe, haha…”
“Take it.”
Something was shoved into Qian Er’s hands—it felt like a gun. He burped, then slowly raised it.
The voice, almost magical, whispered in his ear: “You have no money. He’ll come for you again. He might cripple you next time. Then you’ll never stand again. People will laugh at you. You’ll never find work. Your family won’t care if you live or die. Your life… over.”
Qian Er’s eyes grew twisted. Rage consumed his mind.
“KILL!! KILL!! KILL!!”
A bullet formed slowly in front of him.
Bang—!
The gun fired. The bullet vanished.
Qian Er sat there, grinning foolishly.
Six days.
That was the information received by the young man—the "cooldown" period. But those six days weren’t deducted from him.
The young man silently watched Qian Er.
Qian Er collapsed again, clutching the pistol, and soon passed out, snoring, unconscious of the world.
Strangely, the silver pistol slowly disappeared from his hands… and reappeared in the young man’s hand.
“It needs killing intent… That kid before didn’t have it. So that’s how it works.”
He calmly walked out of the alley.
Up ahead, a car crash had drawn a crowd. A private car had lost control and slammed into a fire hydrant.
Two panicked men pulled out a burly, gold-chain-wearing man from the driver’s seat, yelling, “Brother Xiao! Brother Xiao!!”
A tiny bullet hole sat on Brother Xiao’s forehead.
His eyes would never open again.
Chen Mingming calmly put on his headphones and walked through the crowd.
…
…
Around 10 p.m., Sir Ma, who was heading home, ran into Zhou Yusheng, who wasn’t.
Sir Ma was about to make a casual comment, but his phone rang—it was Lin Feng.
He signaled Zhou Yusheng to wait and answered. After just a few seconds, Sir Ma’s face changed drastically.
“What?!”
“What happened?” Zhou Yusheng’s expression turned serious.
Sir Ma stared at him in shock for a few seconds before speaking grimly, “Wu Rong is dead… They just found her body. Dismembered. Just like Wang Liang.”
…
The next morning, after preparing breakfast and watching his sister eat, Zhao Le packed up for school.
But just outside his building, the security guard called him over.
“Little Le, you’ve got a package.”
“Package?” Zhao Le was puzzled—he didn’t remember ordering anything.
“Yeah, someone dropped it off early this morning. Has your name on it.” The guard handed him a shoebox-sized parcel.
“Thanks, sir.” Zhao Le smiled politely, took it, and headed for the bus stop.
As he walked, he opened the package, tearing off the wrapping and throwing it into a trash bin. Then, still walking, he opened the box.
It was, indeed, a shoebox.
Inside was a silver pistol.
(End of Chapter)