"Hey, that just means you haven't seen enough! Me, I deal with this stuff all the time—it's like looking at frozen meat, doesn't faze me at all. I can haul bodies alone in the middle of the night, no problem!" The driver waved his hand proudly, then asked, "So, as a cop like you, how many dead bodies have you seen?"

"…A lot."

"How many is a lot?" The driver pointed his thumb at himself. "I've seen enough to form a battalion! All kinds! What about you?"

"…An army, maybe."

"Huh?" The driver was shocked. "You're exaggerating, aren't you?"

Logan Clark neither confirmed nor denied.

"Then if you've seen so many, what are you afraid of?"

"The more I see, the more afraid I get."

"What? What do you mean?"

The driver was completely baffled, but Logan Clark just gave a faint tug at the corner of his mouth under the driver's stare. "The more you see, the more you realize they're not just slabs of frozen meat, but real people. How could you not be afraid?"

The driver looked utterly confused, as if Logan Clark was speaking nonsense.

Logan Clark didn't explain further, waving his hand in self-mockery. "Guess I'm getting more and more soft as I get older." Then he zipped up the body bag.

—Just then, a hand reached from behind, grabbing his wrist and forcing him to unzip the body bag again.

Logan Clark looked up, and standing beside him was Ryan Foster.

Seeing the boss arrive, the driver immediately grinned sheepishly and retreated to the cab, not forgetting to throw Logan Clark a sympathetic look, as if to say, "Caught slacking off by the boss—good luck!"

However, Ryan Foster seemed not to have heard any of the conversation with the driver, and called out, "Matthew Reed."

Matthew Reed responded and secretly signaled to Logan Clark to slip away quickly.

"—Don't go," Ryan Foster ordered suddenly, as if he had eyes in the back of his head, without even turning around.

Logan Clark had no choice but to stand by the body.

"I said Stella Green is unlikely to be the killer because of this wound." Ryan Foster, wearing gloves, gently pulled aside the clothing covering Nian Xiaoping's chest, pointing to the already decayed stab wound above the heart. The surrounding flesh was gray and swollen, washed clean of blood by the rain, and emitted an extremely strong and indescribable odor.

"The murder weapon was thrust downward between the ribs, straight to the heart. About 3.5 centimeters wide, 7.5 centimeters deep. Judging by the shape, it was probably a double-edged blade. Double-edged knives often leave small nicks during stabbing, but there are no tentative wounds, no defensive wounds, no scratches from struggling or blocking on the victim's skin. Both hands and the insides and outsides of the arms show no reflexive injuries from blocking a knife. The tear in the clothing is smooth and intact around the edges. What does that tell you?"

Matthew Reed listened intently, resting his chin on his hand, while Logan Clark remained silent.

"—First, Nian Xiaoping was indeed killed in one blow, completely off guard, probably frozen in shock. Second, the killer was extremely skilled and strong, with nerves of steel—not some panicked punk who stole a neighbor's motorcycle to escape and got caught by traffic police."

Logan Clark's gaze flickered slightly as Ryan Foster let go of Nian Xiaoping's cold hand and zipped up the body bag again.

"So, you don't really believe that skeleton's confession, do you?" Matthew Reed was still hesitant. "The way this was done is just too far-fetched…"

"Matthew Reed, you need to remember one thing," Ryan Foster said. "A lot of times, eyewitness testimony is very different from the facts, but that's just another way of describing the truth."

Matthew Reed looked even more confused. "So, you mean—"

"Captain Bu, Captain Bu!" At that moment, Brian Hughes came stumbling over from a distance, calling out loudly, "I had the Caiying District police bring the eyewitness over to identify the scene. He's here now!"

They all turned to look. A police van was parked on the rocky riverbank, and the head of the criminal division personally led two auxiliary officers, escorting a teenage boy out of the vehicle and toward them.

"That's Stella Green. Doesn't look very tall, does he? Not even eighteen for another two months." Brian Hughes shook his head and smirked. "Good thing he's not an adult yet. I heard from the Xiaogang Village police that this kid is almost certain to 'go up the mountain' someday—no detention center can hold him…"

As soon as he finished speaking, the boy suddenly stumbled, caught sight of the body on the metal rack by the police car, and froze in place.

"What are you doing? Move!" the auxiliary officer barked impatiently.

"…Nian…Nian…" Stella Green mumbled a few syllables, then suddenly clutched his head and screamed, scrambling backward in terror: "Ghost! Ghost! There's a ghost!"

His scream was truly blood-curdling. Everyone on the open ground turned to look, even the head of the criminal division was alarmed. "What are you doing? Stand still!"

"It wasn't me! It wasn't me!"

"Stop! Don't move!"

"It wasn't me! There's a ghost! Ahhh, don't come over, don't come over!" The two auxiliary officers couldn't hold Stella Green back at all. The skinny boy was practically driven mad with fear, eyes rolling back as he struggled, his face twisted in panic: "It's a ghost! It's a ghost!! Ahhh, spare me! Spare me! Ahhhhh—"

The shrill screams echoed at the scene for a long time, and everyone looked at each other in shock.

"Holy shit," Brian Hughes was stunned too. "What do we do now?"