This was a disgusting and agonizing process. With the combination of weight-loss drugs and dieting, his weight began to plummet rapidly, and the extraction of his canine teeth caused localized atrophy in his facial muscles. These two ingenious yet cruel methods brought about an extremely rapid change in William Ford’s appearance! In addition, the photo on the wanted notice was one he had deliberately left for the police in the old house—William Ford had calculated that they would never be able to find any recent photos of him! As a result, even though he hadn’t changed his name, no one would associate him with that murderer!

　　Prologue: A bleak and painful memory!

Chapter 2: Tattoo

　　After chopping more than two hundred pounds of pork ribs into uneven pieces, William Ford finally finished today’s work. He swung his sore arms and walked expressionlessly into the back room, picked up his battered plastic lunchbox salvaged from a trash heap, filled it to the brim with white rice, and began eating it in big mouthfuls with some pickled vegetables on the side. He would also ladle some of the oily broth left over from the customers’ dry pot ribs to soak his rice.

　　A dinner and a monthly wage of two hundred yuan. That was the compensation for William Ford’s job, and also the main reason the shrewd boss allowed this clumsy worker to stay. This pay was only about a third of what a dishwasher earned, but the workload was three times as much!

　　So, no matter how silent, aloof, or awkward William Ford was, as long as he didn’t make any major mistakes, even the most authoritative head chef in the kitchen couldn’t kick him out—of course, provided there wasn’t a replacement willing to work for even less.

　　William Ford finished three large boxes of rice and four servings of pickled vegetables, stood up silently, walked to the sink to wash his lunchbox, and just then, Brian Grant, who was supposed to be supervising him, deliberately bumped into him, noisily stacking dozens of bowls and plates into the greasy, sudsy dishwashing sink. Then, rolling his bull-like eyes, he cursed, “Are you blind? Get out of the way!”

　　William Ford calmly put away his battered lunchbox, but couldn’t help glancing at him. In fact, William Ford was always at peace with these little things. He had endured the ridicule, contempt, and indifference of society for so long that compared to that, Brian Grant’s deliberate provocation was nothing more than a drizzle!

　　The reason William Ford looked at him again was:

　　Through the collar of Brian Grant’s grease-stained white chef’s uniform, a faint green, strange tattoo was vaguely visible! The tattoo was a ferocious, roaring demon’s head, and as William Ford’s gaze fell upon it, the demon’s fierce, vivid eyes seemed to wink at him in a sinister way!

　　Both men shuddered at the same time! Brian Grant’s endless stream of foul language was abruptly cut off as if by a pair of scissors, and William Ford’s young, cold, and hardened heart was suddenly seized by a chill that ran from head to toe!

　　However, both of them turned away at the same time and went about their own business, as if nothing had happened.

　　After tidying up everything in the shop, it was already past ten at night. William Ford struggled through the crowded dining hall, and by the time he reached the door, he had already calculated the profit the current customers could bring the boss: a total of 6,714.56 yuan. With just one glance, he had tallied up all the customers, and then, through mental arithmetic and cost calculation, he arrived at this figure in just two seconds. This was simply William Ford’s habitual way of training himself. Once he got out onto the street, he would start memorizing the license plates of passing cars. In fact, he was forcing his sharp mind to keep working nonstop, otherwise he would be unable to stop himself from thinking about the eyes of his parents, who had committed suicide by poisoning!

　　Those two pairs of eyes—full of despair, helplessness, and sorrow!

　　After his parents’ death, William Ford did not cry. His heart felt as if it were being shredded by thousands of knives, with hot, stinging blood flowing from wounds that never healed. He hated himself for not noticing his parents’ suicidal thoughts—something he could have done. This snowballing self-blame drove William Ford to kill, or directly or indirectly cause the deaths of, the six people responsible for his parents’ demise. But the growing emptiness after his revenge became unbearable. There was even a mad voice in his heart screaming: “Either destroy me, or destroy this world!”

　　Two rows of streetlights stretched quietly ahead, forming two parallel bands of light. Cars drove by, some fast, some slow, and as William Ford walked along the sidewalk, he suddenly let out a muffled groan and clutched his head in pain.

　　This was the aftereffect of overusing his brain.

　　With his talent for deduction, he knew all too well what his fate would be in the near future: a mental breakdown and forced isolation, or a choice to go out in a blaze of destruction.