The words struck like a thunderclap. For ten seconds, I couldn't move.
The shadow sneered, "What? Can't prove your grandfather taught you anything?"
"He didn't!" I blurted.
"Then how," the blade pressed harder into my side, "did you find this place?"
Cold sweat poured down my back. He'd seen right through my lie.
"Hmph. Not bad for a boy," he muttered, the curved steel tracing my kidney.
Was he Grandfather's enemy? Why test me? Would he really let me go if I answered right?
My mind raced. Seventeen years of peaceful life shattered in a single night.
"Move faster," the voice grated. "My patience runs thin."
I knelt beside Grandfather's body, forcing myself to focus.
Examination Sequence:
Skin temperature: ≈10°C — consistent with ambient warehouse temperature, death likely within 3 hours
Fingernails: Clean, no epithelial debris — no signs of struggle
Eyes: Corneas clear, pupils fully dilated — no clouding or drug traces
External trauma: None observed on visible areas
Forgive me, Grandfather.
With shaking hands, I unbuttoned his crimson tang jacket.
Torso: No bruises, abrasions, or subcutaneous hemorrhaging
Rib percussion: Normal resonance — no evidence of internal bleeding
Neck: No ligature marks, petechiae, or trauma
His cheeks still held faint warmth. If not for his lifeless pupils and silent chest, he might've been asleep.
No poison. No trauma. No signs of respiratory failure. Nothing.
Had everything I'd studied failed me?
The shadow laughed, his voice like dry gears grinding. "Can't even diagnose your own blood?"
"I DON'T KNOW!" I screamed and lunged upward—
Crack. A gloved hand seized and snapped my wrist with terrifying ease.
Agony tore through me.
In that blink, I saw him:
Six feet tall, encased in a black trench coat
A demonic mask grinning with green fangs
Eyes like voids—no whites, no reflection
Not human. Not completely.
"Brave," he murmured, tightening his grip. "But foolish. Killing you now would only stain my hands. I'll return when you understand how he died. Remember—I'm the nightmare of the Song family."
He raised one gloved finger and tapped my forehead.
Darkness swallowed me.
The Autopsy Paradox
Sirens wailed in the distance. I awoke to Sun Laohu slapping my cheek.
"Grandfather—!" I gasped.
"He's gone, Song Yang." His voice was rough, his face haggard.
Later, at the precinct, I gave my statement. Then I turned to Sun.
"Who is River North's Severed Blade? How did Grandfather die? And the fat man—who was he?"
Sun lit a cigarette. The ember glowed like a dying star.
"Your grandfather begged you to stay away from this."
"I don't care! I want the truth!"
He sighed and slid a file across the table—Grandfather's autopsy report.
Victim #1 – Unidentified Middle-Aged Male (Dragon Tattoo)
Enucleation: Eyes extracted ante-mortem with surgical precision
Heart excision: Cardiac removal without sternotomy or rib fractures
Evidence: Victim's heart recovered from plastic bag held in left hand
Victim #2 – Song Zhaolin
Cause of death: Mitral valve perforation
Result: Acute cardiac tamponade and sudden cardiac arrest
External trauma: None
Thoracic cavity: No blood, no signs of injury
I stared at the report.
A heart pierced through the ribcage—without breaking skin? No bleeding?
Sun retrieved the file, his expression grim.
"Only one man kills like this. Ten years ago, six bodies were found in the River North district—organs removed, no external wounds. We called him the 'River North's Severed Blade.'"
He exhaled a long stream of smoke.
"And now... he's returned. For the Songs."
His voice fell to a whisper as the ash on his cigarette trembled.
"You're next."
And with that, he began recounting the unsolved horror from a decade past...