When I heard those words, I froze for over ten seconds.
The shadowy figure let out a cold laugh. "What's the matter? Don't want me to see what your grandfather taught you?"
"He didn't teach me anything!" I snapped back.
"Then how did you find this place?" he asked casually.
I broke into a cold sweat. This man was terrifyingly smart. He saw through my lie in an instant.
"Hmph, not bad. You're quite capable for someone so young," the shadow murmured, his curved blade trailing lightly across my waist.
Was he my grandfather's enemy? Why was he testing me? Would he really let me go if I figured it out?
My mind was a mess. In my seventeen years of life, I'd never faced anything like this. Panic and dread tangled in my chest, and my sweat-soaked shirt clung coldly to my back.
"Hurry up. My patience is limited," the figure urged.
I had no choice but to examine my grandfather's body.
First, I pressed my finger against his skin—roughly ten degrees Celsius. His nails were intact. No signs of a struggle. I pried open his eyelids. The eyes were clear, no clouding...
...
...
As I worked, I gradually calmed down.
There were no visible wounds. No signs of poisoning. His cheeks still had a faint blush. If it weren't for the absence of any vital signs, I would've thought he was just sleeping.
Were the wounds hidden beneath his clothes?
I muttered an apology in my heart and gently removed his garments. Emotions churned within me, but I forced myself to remain rational.
I inspected every inch of his skin and bone structure. No fractures. No cuts.
I placed my ear to his chest and tapped near the diaphragm. Still, nothing. No internal bleeding.
No signs of suffocation. No bruises. No poisoning. Nothing.
How could this be?
I couldn't find the cause of death.
For a moment, I even began to doubt everything I had learned.
Minutes passed. The cold wind in the warehouse blew through my damp clothes. I wiped the sweat from my forehead.
"You mean to tell me the grandson of Song Zhaolin can't identify a simple cause of death?" the shadow sneered.
"…"
"Say it. Or I'll show you—using the same method that ended your grandfather's life."
I clenched my fists. There was no escape.
"I don't know!" I shouted.
"That's your answer?" the figure asked.
I shot to my feet. If I was going to die, I might as well try. Maybe—just maybe—I could get out of this alive.
Even if I failed, I had to at least see his face. If I died, I'd become a vengeful spirit that would haunt him.
He was less than half a meter away. I spun around and threw a punch.
But a gloved hand caught my fist in midair.
That's when I saw him clearly.
He was about 1.8 meters tall, wrapped in a black trench coat. Not an inch of skin exposed. On his face, a grotesque mask—a grinning demon with two cyan fangs.
His eyes behind the mask were pitch-black. No reflection, no human warmth. For a moment, I doubted if he was even human.
With a slight twist, he cracked my wrist. Pain shot through me.
"Bold," he said. "But stupid. Killing you would just stain my hands."
He paused. "I'll spare your life—for now. When you can figure out how I killed your grandfather, then I'll come back for you. Remember—I'm the nightmare of the Song family."
He raised a finger and tapped the center of my forehead.
Darkness swallowed me.
…
I woke to the sound of sirens. A large hand patted my face. It was Officer Sun, crouching beside me, trying to wake me.
"My grandfather—where is he?" I asked urgently.
Officer Sun sighed. "Song Yang… I'm sorry. He's gone."
I wasn't shocked. Just hollow. My chest tightened. Rage, shame, and helplessness twisted inside me. I bit my lip until I tasted blood.
He draped a coat over my shoulders. I only then realized I'd spent the night in the warehouse. I felt the chill in my bones.
The bodies had already been taken away. Officer Sun told me my aunt had searched for me all night and only rested after confirming I was safe.
I followed him to the city's criminal investigation unit. During the interview, I told him everything. Then I asked:
"Who is the Blade of Jiangbei? How did my grandfather really die? And who was that fat man?"
Officer Sun frowned. "I know you're eager for answers. But if your grandfather told you to stay away, I think you should listen."
"How can I not care!" I stood up, nearly shouting. "That man killed my grandfather! I'll make him pay!"
He sighed. "Alright. I'll tell you what I know. But you must promise—never speak of this to anyone."
He lit a cigarette, just as another officer entered the room holding a file. Seeing me, the officer hesitated.
"It's fine," Sun waved him in. "He's one of us."
The officer looked uneasy. "Sir, the autopsy reports… they're out."
Sun took the report, glanced over it—and his expression darkened.
"It's him," he muttered. Then he handed the report to me.
It was my first time reading a modern autopsy report, but I understood most of it.
Victim One—the fat man—showed no external injuries. No signs of poisoning. His eyeballs had been removed while he was still alive, resulting in torn optic nerves and ocular muscles. But most horrifying was this:
His heart was missing.
Not removed by force. No visible incisions on skin or ribcage.
Yet inside the black plastic bag in his hands… was a human heart. His own.
I felt a chill crawl down my spine. Taking a heart out without damaging the body—is that even possible?
As for my grandfather, the report stated:
Massive perforation of the heart valve, likely caused by a sharp object. Cause of death: cardiac failure. No visible wounds. No signs of struggle. No toxins.
Speechless, I stared at the report.
Officer Sun took it back and said, "Only one man can do this. The Blade of Jiangbei. He's returned… to settle the score with the Song family."
And with that, Officer Sun began to recount a strange, unsolved case from ten years ago…