The car was parked in a residential complex outside the school. This was an old neighborhood, clearly quite run-down, but for most college couples renting here, no matter what, the conditions were still much better than the school dorms.

Led by David Miller, the group quickly arrived at Unit 1, second floor of a residential building.

"Knock knock knock!"

Captain Harris went to knock on the door, but after knocking for quite a while, there was no response.

William Clark stood beside the door, reaching out to cover his nose. He smelled a strong scent of blood.

At this moment, Captain Harris suddenly looked at William Clark, then sniffed with his own nose, seeming to understand something. But the way he looked at William Clark changed a little.

William Clark's expression didn't change as he said directly, "There's a smell of fresh blood. My nose is very sensitive, there's no mistake."

Rather than being suspected, it was better to just say it outright.

Seeing William Clark speak so openly, the suspicion on Captain Harris's face immediately disappeared. He nodded, stepped back two paces, then sprinted forward and kicked the door open.

"Ugh..."

Almost everyone present bent over and started retching, even Captain Harris, the veteran detective, was no exception. Kicking the door open just now was like lifting the lid off a trash can—everything inside, the smell and the sight, all rushed out at once.

It was a small apartment, only 60 square meters, two bedrooms and a living room. The living room was so tiny that you had to turn sideways to walk past a table.

In this little living room, there was a chair. Sitting on the chair was a young man, his limbs nailed to the chair with long nails. His entire chest and abdomen had been hollowed out, and something was stuffed inside, making it bulge grotesquely.

"Secure the scene, don't go in randomly, call for backup, inform headquarters that a second murder scene has been found here."

Captain Harris forced himself to suppress his nausea and gave the order.

"Yes."

A police officer, as if granted amnesty, hurriedly ran down the stairs to make the call.

William Clark and Henry Grant recovered rather quickly. After all, aside from the stench and the twisted scene, there wasn't anything too out of the ordinary. Once they got past the initial discomfort, they could start looking for clues.

"That guy's stomach is all swollen—what's stuffed in there? A pillow? Cotton?" Henry Grant asked in confusion.

William Clark pointed at the boxes on the floor of the living room and said, "If I'm not mistaken, it's probably condoms filled with water, like water balloons."

Chapter 9: The Strange Person

A couple of students living together off campus: the girl was cooked, cut up, and dismembered into thousands of pieces scattered all over the campus; the boy was nailed to a chair, his chest and abdomen cut open, all his organs and intestines pulled out, and his abdominal cavity stuffed full of water-filled condoms.

The manner of death was beyond reason, extremely tragic. This didn't look like an ordinary revenge killing—it was almost at the level of a religious ritual.

As David Miller and William Clark walked back together, David Miller was clutching his chest almost the whole way. Clearly, the shock of what he'd just seen was too much for him.

William Clark, on the other hand, seemed fine—after all, his temperament was different.

But suddenly, recalling what Henry Grant had said earlier about the surveillance cameras, someone who could completely avoid the cameras and scatter so many body parts all over campus... it really didn't seem like something a human could do.

At this moment, William Clark's phone started vibrating.

"David Miller, you go back to the dorm first. I'll be back later." William Clark called out to David Miller, then walked toward the barbecue stall at the school gate.

"Hello, it's me. What's up, calling so late at night?"

"I heard about what happened at your school, tsk tsk." On the other end, Emma sounded like she was blow-drying her hair, the phone on speaker, so William Clark could clearly hear the buzzing of the hairdryer.

"News travels fast." William Clark walked up to the barbecue stall, looked at the grilled meat, his Adam's apple bobbing. It seemed today wasn't a good day for barbecue. "Boss, two bottles of beer, and grill me some vegetables. No meat."

"Heh, what's wrong, did it get to you today too? Honestly, if the method wasn't so perverse, I'd have thought you did it yourself at your school, you murder-obsessed maniac."

William Clark gave a dry laugh and sat down at a small table.

"I'm not that far gone yet, and I wouldn't just randomly target my own classmates."

"You said it yourself, that's only because you haven't gotten that far yet. I'm telling you, if your mental illness keeps developing, you're not far from becoming a serial killer."

"I think I already am."

"At least the people our club kills aren't good people."

"Why do we sound like the Powerpuff Girls, or Sailor Moon, shouting 'in the name of the moon, I'll punish you'?"

"Heh, pretty much. Actually, we're not much different from those people who like illegal street racing—we just play bolder and more dangerously. Alright, enough joking around. You know about my situation, right?"