Really, it’s not a dream!

At that moment, the car radio suddenly interrupted with a traffic news bulletin:

“Just now, there was a traffic accident on Qingyang Avenue in the main urban area. An Audi crashed into a bridge pier. The relevant authorities have already rushed to the scene to handle the situation. Here, we remind drivers traveling at night to drive carefully, avoid driving while fatigued, and cherish your life.”

“Qingyang Avenue, huh? That’s not far from here.” The driver of William Clark’s car spoke up.

Then, just five minutes later, the traffic news station interrupted with another bulletin:

“Upon investigation, the Audi involved in the accident on Qingyang Avenue was the same vehicle that hit and ran on Hongpu Road earlier tonight. After hitting a little girl on Hongpu Road, the driver fled the scene. According to police speculation, the accident on Qingyang Avenue likely occurred because the fleeing driver was in a dazed state during the escape.”

“Karma, it’s really karma.” The driver of William Clark’s car slapped his leg and sighed.

He didn’t notice that the passenger sitting behind him was already drenched in cold sweat after hearing this news.

Chapter Four: Murder Club!

After switching cars at three different locations, it was only in the early hours of the morning that William Clark finally arrived at the dormitory area of his school. The dormitory for his major was in the old building. The gatekeeper was an auntie who had just gotten divorced. She didn’t really guard the door at night, nor did she lock it. After dinner, she would just go to bed, so students could push the door open themselves to come and go.

Moreover, there were no cameras here. It seemed that ever since his first murder, William Clark had developed an instinctive aversion to cameras. He hated anything that could record his movements.

He entered the dormitory building and went straight to the public restroom. The innermost stall had been secured in advance by William Clark with a wire. He climbed up, then changed into the clothes he had left in the washbasin. The clothes and shoes he had worn out earlier were placed in the basin. Afterward, William Clark went to the faucet and took a shower, coming out dripping wet.

He covered the washbasin with a towel, hiding the clothes and sneakers inside. Now he was wearing a tank top and shorts, his lean muscles exposed, hair wet, and breathing a little tiredly.

He pushed open the door to his dorm room and went in. William Clark sat down on bed number 1. Some water, intentionally, splashed onto the face of a fair-skinned boy on the bed. The boy opened his eyes sleepily, and after a while, realized it was William Clark.

“William Clark, you went to take a shower?”

“Yeah, couldn’t sleep, too hot, so I cooled off.”

He replied, just to leave an impression, then William Clark went to his own bed, number 4. There were four people in this dorm, with odd-numbered beds on the bottom and even-numbered beds on top.

At his own bed, William Clark hung a curtain, dark brown and opaque.

Lying on the bed, what occupied his mind wasn’t the scene of today’s murder, but rather the matter of this terrifying broadcast. Compared to that, his own act of killing seemed almost insignificant.

In fact, even when making these alibis, William Clark felt somewhat uninterested from a gut feeling. Although Henry Grant always said that his alibis were too contrived and that as long as the police didn’t suspect him early on, everything would be fine, William Clark still subconsciously went through the whole process.

Lying in bed, he couldn’t sleep—simply couldn’t. Normally, after the brief mental excitement following a murder, he would feel exhausted from the release and be able to sleep well. This time, it was completely different.

After lying in bed for half an hour, William Clark sat up. There was a small desk on his bed. He unfolded it, turned on his laptop, and after entering the start screen, went straight into a hidden folder. This was a folder named “X,” containing seven subfolders, each with information on one of his murder targets—a total of seven.

Targets one through six were either pickpockets or vagrants. Killing these people was simple and easy, as long as he chose the right place, the right opportunity, and a suitable alibi.

In fact, although TV constantly broadcasts police crime-solving documentaries, what they show are basically only the successful cases, giving viewers the impression that all criminals are inevitably caught;

But in reality, there are far more cases that leave the police completely clueless. William Clark knew this very well. Any murder, as long as the basic anti-investigation elements are handled, makes it very difficult for the police to catch you. Moreover, his killings were motiveless and without a specific target, so the police couldn’t trace him through the victim’s social connections, making him even safer.

After all, not every police officer in the real world is Sherlock Holmes.

This female office worker was the first target William Clark chose who wasn’t a fugitive or a pickpocket. It was only because his craving was growing stronger that he decided, for the first time, to pick a target of a different level.

William Clark opened the seventh folder. It contained information on that female office worker. Her name was Grace Miller, 28 years old, currently working as a secretary at a company.