Chapter 59: Why Use Weapons to Kill?

Everything happened too suddenly.

Xia Yutian screamed like a slaughtered pig, staring at Sun Junliu with blood pouring from her mouth, and instantly wet his pants in terror.

I pushed the door open, walked over to the window, glanced at Xia Yutian on the floor, and said, “That bastard deserves it.”

Qi Shuang was also trembling. The two policemen had two ribs broken and were barely managing to stand up.

A long, drawn-out fart escaped from Xia Yutian’s pants, his eyes filled with sheer terror. Sun Junliu had bitten off a piece of his ear, chewed it, and spat it out to prevent him from reattaching it.

Xia Yutian sobbed, “I was wrong, I shouldn’t have…” Qi Shuang’s legs went weak, and she leaned against the wall, shouting, “This is the behavior of a violent maniac! She’s definitely sick—give her an injection, a sedative!”

Sun Junliu looked up, her eyes brimming with murderous intent. Shen Yihu yelled, “Xiao Qi, what are you just standing there for?”

I had originally wanted to see if the bananas, peaches, apples, or oranges would kneel on the ground, but Shen Yihu’s shout snapped me out of it. I pulled the curtains open. The ten o’clock sun was blazing, streaming through the glass and illuminating Sun Junliu. She raised a hand to block the light, but her eyes, peeking through her fingers, bore into me with an unrelenting stare.

It was a gaze full of malice—and also of pleading.

Sun Junliu was forced into the darkest corner of the room, her body trembling, her lips quivering, the blood at the corners of her mouth slowly drying. Xia Yutian picked up the chewed pieces of his ear from the floor, utterly baffled by Sun Junliu’s condition. His years of psychiatric evaluations had never prepared him for this.

No matter how strong or erratic a woman might be, she couldn’t possibly throw two grown men against a wall hard enough to break their ribs. That moment of sheer savagery would haunt Xia Yutian’s nightmares for years.

The curses in Xia Yutian’s throat died unspoken as he gathered the fragments and ran out, hoping to somehow piece his ear back together.

The doctor told him that an ear wasn’t a jigsaw puzzle—once shattered, it couldn’t be fixed. At least he still had one ear left, so he could hear clearly, though having only one ear dangling wasn’t exactly dignified.

Sun Junliu huddled in the corner, tears streaming from her eyes.

Under the harsh light, the little ghost inside her was forced into submission, unable to act recklessly, only glaring at me with gnashing teeth. I barked, “All of you, get out! No peeking!” Shen Yihu echoed, “Everyone out!”

Qi Shuang shot me a glance and demanded, “Who the hell are you to order me out? I’m the expert here!” I smirked, “Then tell me—am I craving oranges right now, or do I feel like killing someone?”

Qi Shuang froze for a second before storming out, slamming the door behind her. “All of this is just black magic nonsense.” Shen Yihu ushered the other two officers out as well and stood guard outside to keep anyone from approaching.

As I moved closer, Sun Junliu laughed softly, “You can’t stop me now. I’ve already succeeded.” I grabbed her, dragging her over to the window, pressing her pale, bloodless face against the glass under the scorching sunlight. “What the hell have you done?”

Sun Junliu had lost all dignity, crumpling to the floor like trash, saying nothing—only laughing. “I’ve succeeded. Whether you’re Guanyin or the Jade Emperor, none of you can save him now.”

I glared at her. “No matter who he is, you can’t just kill people!”

Sun Junliu gave a bitter laugh. “It’s already too late. I should’ve died that night in the car crash. It was the little ghost I raised that saved me.”

I demanded, “Why? Why would the ghost save you? Weren’t you trying to send it away with the otherworldly flower? Why did it still protect you?”

Sun Junliu explained, “The ghost I raised was incredibly powerful. I named him Xiao Jie. He died before he was even born—his mother died in a car crash too. A Taoist priest dug up the coffin, took the child’s body, and refined it into a ghost. Xiao Jie’s resentment was too strong—I couldn’t control him. That’s why I wanted to send him away. But before I could, the accident happened. That night, when I was sure I was going to die, Xiao Jie entered my body. My wounds healed almost instantly.”

I asked, “Then what kind of person do you think Ma Shuangxi was?”

Sun Junliu shook her head. “He was a fool. He actually died for me. What could I do besides shed a few tears for him? He’s already dead—he was innocent, the most pitiful one.”

I sighed heavily.

After being exposed to the sunlight, Xiao Jie could no longer maintain his hold on Sun Junliu’s body, making her writhe uncontrollably. I pressed a jade ruler against her chest to prevent the ghost from corrupting her heart and slapped two ghost-sealing talismans on her forehead and chest.

Under the relentless sunlight and the pressure of the talismans, Xiao Jie was desperate to break free and tear me apart. Sun Junliu’s lips had turned pale, her pain unbearable. She slammed her head violently against the glass, her hands pounding the floor—as if she had descended into the madness before death.

But no—what I hadn’t anticipated was that this was only the prelude to an even greater madness.

Sun Junliu finally screamed in agony, her mouth stretching wide as a tiny head forced its way out. With a powerful burst, the tempered glass shattered. Xiao Jie tumbled through the broken pane. I rushed to the window, watching as his form dissipated further and further in the air.

Finally, under the scorching summer sun, he turned to nothingness—gone from this world forever.

Sun Junliu’s torment lessened. Watching Xiao Jie turn to ashes, she murmured, “Xiao Jie, don’t blame me. I just couldn’t bear your love and hatred anymore.” For years, Sun Junliu had been unable to conceive, and over time, she had developed a motherly affection for Xiao Jie. And Xiao Jie, having died in the womb, had doted on her with equal intensity.

With Xiao Jie gone, how could she possibly kill anyone now? I said, “Sun Junliu, I’ll ask you one last time—who were you planning to kill? Tell me. If the bloodshed continues, even I won’t be able to save you. You’ll never reach heaven—only hell awaits you.”

Sun Junliu suddenly snapped back, “What’s your name? Why do you care so much? There’s so much suffering, so much hatred in this world—can you possibly handle it all? Are you insane?”

I smiled. “Me? I’ll never know why I care so much. Life is like a game of chess—once you make a move, there’s no turning back. My name is Xiao Qi.”

Sun Junliu shook her head. “You’re a good man, Xiao Qi. Just leave. I’ll never tell you who I was going to kill—or how.”

Interrogating a woman with nothing left to lose wasn’t my forte.

There was an interesting moral dilemma: If a criminal had planted a time bomb that would kill a hundred people, and his only weakness was his daughter—would you cut off her hands and feet to force him to reveal the bomb’s location?

Shen Yihu was waiting for me outside. “Did she say who she was going to kill?”

I shook my head. “She refused.”

Qi Shuang scoffed, “She can’t even stand up anymore. How is she supposed to kill someone with a knife or a gun?”

I shot her a glare. “Killing doesn’t always require weapons. You wouldn’t understand even if I explained it.”

Suddenly, an ear-piercing, drawn-out laugh erupted from the ward. Sun Junliu had plunged into true, unrestrained madness.

Her teeth clenched, her eyes glowing green, she repeatedly smashed her head against the wall, green liquid oozing from her lips—utterly deranged, as if poisoned by some ancient curse.

Qi Shuang shook her head. “She’s really lost it this time.”

Sun Junliu looked at me through the door, a triumphant grin spreading across her face. All her previous fits of madness had been an act—clearly, to survive, she had chosen to become a lunatic.

Watching her, a deep unease settled in my chest. The white otherworldly flower she had sought was meant to send the ghost away.

But it was Xiao Jie who had saved Sun Junliu—not the flower.

Shen Yihu, Chen Tuhu, and I had all assumed it was the mantis love curse that had saved her, sacrificing itself to ashes. But we were completely wrong.

The ashes weren’t the remnants of the mantis curse’s self-destruction—they were the birth of a true mantis curse. Like the ancient texts said, when a cultivator ascends, their mortal shell is left behind.

Sweat trickled down my forehead, my hands trembling slightly. Xiao Jian, crouching beside me, sensed my unease and licked my shoe reassuringly.

Everything—everything—had gone according to Sun Junliu’s plan.

Panicked, I turned to Shen Yihu. “Where was the clay pot from Sun Junliu’s house sent?”

Shen Yihu, infected by my tension, paled. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?”

I shook my head. “We were wrong. The mantis curse isn’t dead—it’s still inside that pot.” Shen Yihu’s face darkened. “The pot was sent back for examination. Could something go wrong?”

I said, “Hard to say. Take me to get that pot.”

Shen Yihu crushed his cigarette and sped out of the hospital, driving like a madman toward the police station, kicking up dust and drawing a trail of pursuing traffic cops.

Under the blazing sun, my heart felt as cold as winter.

Why does sorrow and slaughter never cease in this world? As I pondered, I realized I was overestimating myself—just an ordinary man, why bother with such grand questions?

The car screeched to a halt in the police station courtyard. Shen Yihu and I jumped out, sprinting toward the evidence room.

Shen Yihu shouted as we ran, “Everyone, to the evidence room!” The door was flung open—the clay pot had cracked, but the white plastic bag inside remained intact. Most horrifying of all, the red thread inside had turned completely green.

I swallowed hard. The mother mantis had crawled out.

Where had it gone?

I said, “Shen Yihu, everyone—hold your breath. Let me sense its presence.” The room fell silent, everyone stifling their breaths. Even Xiao Jian sniffed the air cautiously.

I could feel it—it hadn’t gone far. It was still in the building. Shen Yihu’s face drained of color. “You mean… it’s still here? Will it kill?”

I said grimly, “If it weren’t here to kill, it wouldn’t have escaped.”

Shen Yihu’s expression twisted in horror. “A mantis curse on the loose—should we evacuate?” I shook my head. “Don’t panic, Officer Shen. Vengeance has its target—it won’t harm the innocent. No need to cause a scene.”

Shen Yihu asked desperately, “Is there any way to stop it?”

I sighed. “Unless you know curse magic, no. I can handle bugs, but a curse this deep with this much hatred? Even the *Compendium of Materia Medica* doesn’t have a cure for a mantis curse.”

Though curses couldn’t travel thousands of miles like legends claimed, they could move unseen across hundreds of meters. And the methods of planting them were bizarre—each with its own deadly trick, impossible to counter easily.

Following the trail, we reached Wang Han’s office. The door was locked from the inside, faint sounds coming from within. Someone was in there.

Shen Yihu grew even more agitated—I’d never seen him so shaken. Nervously, he patted his pockets for a cigarette, finding none. “Are you saying the curse is already in the chief’s office?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

It all made sense now. The repeated attempts on Sun Junliu’s life using underworld forces—the dump truck, the suicidal thugs, the conveniently malfunctioning traffic cameras, her forced psychiatric hospitalization—Wang Han had the power to orchestrate all of it.

A man like Wang Han knew how dangerous a mistress could be. She might not bring him down, but she could ruin his career. Eliminating her wasn’t out of the question. With just a word, countless people would kill for him.

And if Sun Junliu had any leverage over him, the risk of her becoming a target was even higher.