BPIFC -Volume 1 – Chapter 126 The Survivors

Although Che Qianzi had already spent some time in the Municipal Investigation Bureau, he was still startled by the scene before him. He took several steps back to avoid the moving corpses.

Once the bodies had been cleared away, he looked down at the floor near the doorway. There was nothing unusual—only bloodstained water seeping from the corpses, and a layer of fine sand-like grains. It looked like sand tracked in from the shoes of one of the dead.

Che Qianzi squatted down and examined it for a long time, but found nothing abnormal. Disappointed, he stood up and said to Sun Desheng:

“I misjudged it. I thought someone might have written the killer’s name before dying. There’s nothing here… I told you that guy was a psycho.”

Sun Desheng narrowed his small eyes and chuckled.

“Brother, I thought the same thing just now—that there might be something under the bodies. But it looks like there’s no useful clue here. No need to keep searching Room 808. Let’s keep going upstairs. Old Hao, didn’t you say there’s a tough one up there? Let’s go deal with him.”

“Big Saint, don’t underestimate this,” Hao Wenming warned. “Back then even Gao Liang—he was just as calculating, maybe even more than you. And what happened to him…”

His expression suddenly became strange. He sighed and waved his hand.

“Forget it… let’s not talk about that.”

“Alright, then we’ll keep moving,” Sun Desheng said with a smile. “I thought I could turn things around this time, but that fake Old Xiao ran off. And Old Tu still hasn’t caught the guy. With all this time, he could’ve had a kid already.”

Since they found nothing useful in Room 808, Sun Desheng led the group up to the ninth floor.

From the sixth floor upward, the layout of A’an Building was identical: rental rooms lining both sides of the corridor, doors tightly shut. After what had happened downstairs, Che Qianzi now found the place even more eerie.

Just as they reached the ninth floor, Yang Xiao paused.

“Big Saint, there are still living people on this floor. Room 910 has two people, and Room 911 also has two. Not sure if they’re on the blacklist.”

Shen La originally intended to send his flying swords to investigate, but Sun Desheng stopped him.

“La Zi, no need. Brother, do me a favor—go knock on 910 and 911. Call them out. Don’t worry, they’re definitely not blacklist members. Probably just tenants.”

Thinking of the pile of corpses at Room 808, Che Qianzi hesitated.

“Don’t mess around. The place is a war zone. Who’d still stay here? That’s not normal people.”

“Exactly because it’s a war zone, they wouldn’t dare leave,” Sun Desheng said with a grin. “There’s gunfire and bodies outside—ordinary people wouldn’t dare go out. Just knock and make up a reason. Leave the rest to me.”

Che Qianzi didn’t know Sun Desheng well yet, but he instinctively trusted that the fat man wouldn’t harm him. So he walked over.

Standing in front of Room 910, he knocked and shouted:

“Police! Open the door! ID check! Open up—police inspection!”

There was no response.

Just as he wondered whether the room was empty or Yang Xiao had made a mistake, the peephole suddenly flickered—someone was peeking out.

Che Qianzi, impulsive by nature, immediately lost patience. He kicked the door hard.

With a loud bang, the already loose hinges gave way and the door slammed down—pinning a man in large shorts underneath.

“Ahhh! I’m dying! Help!”

A fat woman rushed out from inside the room, her voice hoarse like a man’s, probably from heavy smoking. She struggled to lift the door while shouting:

“I told you not to look! You just had to! Sir, just tell us how much you want—three or five thousand we’ll pay! If it’s a hundred thousand, just kill us then!”

“What nonsense is this?” Che Qianzi snapped. “Police inspection! Show your IDs!”

He turned and walked to Room 911.

Just as he raised his leg to kick, the door suddenly opened. A middle-aged man handed out two ID cards.

“Finally, police are here! I’ve been waiting nearly an hour! There was gunfire and explosions downstairs—we had no idea what was happening. We already called the police, and you’re only showing up now!”

“Oh, you called the police?” Che Qianzi took the IDs.

He glanced at them while continuing:

“You’re from Anshan? What are you doing in Beijing—working, traveling, or medical treatment? Why are you staying here?”

He was clearly repeating lines he had learned from television.

The man replied nervously with a smile:

“We’re here to accompany an elderly relative for medical treatment. It’s cheap here—80 yuan a night for the two of us. It’s just far; it takes over an hour by subway to the hospital.”

At that moment, the couple behind him also handed over their IDs.

“We heard the noise too and were about to go downstairs to check, but someone stopped us. Said he was an old policeman—said fugitives had entered the building. Told us not to leave and said his colleagues would come door to door to check IDs.”

Che Qianzi felt a jolt.

An “old policeman” checking IDs—that clearly meant them.

How had even someone as insignificant as him been calculated into this?

He couldn’t help asking:

“What did this old policeman look like?”

The residents now looked at Che Qianzi more and more strangely. This “policeman” seemed far too young.

The man in shorts asked suspiciously:

“Are you really police? How old are you? Even seventeen? Show us your badge.”

“I’m thirty. I just look young,” Che Qianzi frowned.

Before he could say more, he suddenly noticed something inside the room where the door had been kicked down.

A faint human-shaped shadow stood behind the couple, staring at him strangely—as if observing something completely unfamiliar.

At the same moment, Che Qianzi shouted back toward Sun Desheng:

“Something’s wrong! There’s something in this room! Hurry and come help!”

As he shouted, the shadow immediately lunged at him.