What is the reaction of the average person when they see a dead body? Not to mention being scared to the point of losing control, feeling sick, panicking, and being afraid - these are all emotions of resistance that are more or less present. But once again, Fānqiéluo proved with his actions that he is not an average person. He stared at the photos for a moment, his crimson lips slightly curved, looking somewhat indifferent, his gaze flowing through each photo, but then passing gently, naturally as if he was admiring a few landscape paintings.
As he faced the pale faces and contorted bodies of the deceased, his breathing remained unflustered, and there was not a hint of a ripple in his deep eyes.
"I don't recognize them," he shook his head, then extended his slender fingertips and gathered the photos together, overlapping them one by one. The one he placed on top was the photo of Gāo Yīzé's tragic death from falling off a building, and his fingertip remained on Gāo Yīzé's face, which had been disfigured and brain matter splattered.
How could an ordinary person dare to do this? If an ordinary person were to place their fingertips on the face of a deceased, even just a photo, they would feel as if their fingers had been bitten and then move away in horror.
Chuāng Zhēn felt almost amused by Fānqiéluo's attitude. Only a cold-blooded and ruthless killer could possess such strong mental resilience. Claiming that this case had nothing to do with him? Who did this person think he could deceive?
"I don't know you, so why would I receive a death notice from you?" Chuāng Zhēn forcefully tapped the table, and assertively said, "Don't tell me you don't know how that death sketch came about? You don't know what you said about the second, third, fourth? Are you trying to fool me?"
Fānqiéluo withdrew his profound gaze from the photos and looked at Chuāng Zhēn, his lips slightly curved, revealing a hint of "this scene is interesting, and I kind of like it".
Chuāng Zhēn bit his teeth, and confidently continued, "Let me guess, you weren't directly involved in these murders, but you did have contact with the real killer, isn't that right?"
Before Fānqiéluo could deny it, Chuāng Zhēn quickly interjected, "You accidentally discovered the killer's murder plan, but you had a grudge against Gāo Yīzé, he ruined you, so you wanted him dead. Therefore, not only did you not report the killer, but you actively participated in this series of murders."
Chuāng Zhēn spoke with great certainty, "As the killer committed the murders, as a reprisal for Gāo Yīzé's death, you were behind, drawing public attention, disrupting the police's investigative train of thought, so your plans could proceed smoothly. Your murder sketches, death notices, even alibis from the beginning, were prepared in advance by you. In this way, the true culprit protected by you could evade arrest, and you could walk away unscathed."
Fānqiéluo listened quietly and did not refute a single word.
Chuāng Zhēn continued to elaborate on their plan and crime details, as if he personally witnessed the entire process, which was a interrogation method he and Sòng Ruì had previously discussed. Based on speculation, they fabricated a story in advance, perfecting the details as much as possible, to lure Fānqiéluo to speak. While listening to the story, Fānqiéluo would definitely try to deny it, and Chuāng Zhēn would interrupt his denials repeatedly, then disrupt his thinking, and provoke his nerves. His mind would become confused, and in the process of refuting the story, he would naturally give some details to prove his innocence, some true and some false, which were exactly what Sòng Ruì and Chuāng Zhēn desperately wanted as evidence.
With this benchmark, whether Fānqiéluo was the killer would become clear. No matter how many lies he told, as long as the police saw through him, he would have nowhere to escape.
But at the moment, Chuāng Zhēn appeared assertive and forceful, but in fact, the more he said, the less certain he felt, because Fānqiéluo didn't say a word of refutation, just quietly and calmly listened. In the pauses in the speech, he would slightly raise his chin, signaling Chuāng Zhēn to continue speaking. He seemed to be listening to someone else's story, rather than facing a severe indictment about himself.
In the listening room, Liú Tāo and others were frantic, and even the usually composed Sòng Ruì frowned, feeling somewhat helpless. Although they suspected that there was someone behind Fānqiéluo, they could not find this person after searching through his social network and background. Otherwise, the investigation would not have remained stagnant.
Fānqiéluo was nothing like the emotionally unstable manic-depressive described in the records. On the contrary, his heart was probably as hard as steel, and colder than the glacier. Trying to break through his psychological defenses and find the real killer was as difficult as trying to chisel through a dam with a small hammer.
Chuāng Zhēn intensified his tone and said slowly, "Do you think you can walk away unscathed just because you didn't participate in the murders? You're wrong! Once we catch the killer, you will also go to jail! Do you know, you have already committed the crime of covering up and could be sentenced to less than three years in prison! Once you were the young master of the Fān family, a star idol in the entertainment industry, and now you will be a prisoner, a pariah everyone scorns! If you don't confess and reveal the true identity of the killer, your punishment will be more severe. After three years, even if you were released, how would you survive? With a criminal record, it will be a stain for the rest of your life! Think about it carefully!"
Chuāng Zhēn leaned on the table, trying to suppress his body, and locked eyes with Fānqiéluo with a sharp gaze.
Once Fānqiéluo's breath dissipated, Chuāng Zhēn, who was controlled by an invisible magnetic field, regained the freedom to breathe. This feeling was subtle and mysterious, but Chuāng Zhēn didn't want to think too deeply about it.
Perhaps Fānqiéluo frequently sees a psychologist, and who knows, he may be privately studying psychology, and just tried to plant a psychological suggestion in me earlier. Chuāng Zhēn quickly found what seemed to be a reasonable explanation and refocused on the interrogation. gathering his thoughts, he bit his teeth and said, "Do you mean to say you can communicate with spirits? Did you see the death of Gāo Yīzé while communicating with spirits?"
"Exactly," Fānqiéluo smiled and nodded.
"Did you also see the deaths of Wáng Wěi, Zhào Kāi, and Máo Xiǎomíng?"
What is a spirit medium? Traditionally, someone who can communicate with spirits, gods, and ghosts is a spirit medium. They can command spirits and gods, discern the past, and predict the future. They can see through a person's thoughts and get to know their life story when they first meet. Whether spirit mediums actually possess these abilities is a subject of debate worldwide.
It's clear that the members of the special task force are advocates of science and atheists, and they don't believe in the so-called spirit mediums. They have been working hard for a long time and have devised many plans to break through Fānqiéluo's psychological defenses. However, when they thought they were finally going to get some results, what they received was such a ridiculous answer. How could they not be angry and annoyed?
Am I a spirit medium? What does that mean? So, those death sketches and death announcements, were they scenes Fānqiéluo saw when communicating with spirits? He had no connection with these cases at all? He didn't even know the true identity of the killer? Who is he trying to deceive?
Liú Tāo burst into laughter, pounding the table, "What is this? What did he just say? Did I mishear?"
The two young police officers shook their heads, both looking puzzled. After questioning and questioning, they ended up talking about spirits. This case was probably the most difficult, bizarre, and absurd case they had ever encountered.
In the interrogation room, Fānqiéluo had completely moved away from Chuāng Zhēn, and sat back in his seat, continuing to fiddle with a pile of photos. When his breath dissipated, Chuāng Zhēn, who had been controlled by an invisible magnetic field, once again had the freedom to breathe. This feeling was subtle and mysterious, but Chuāng Zhēn didn't want to think too deeply about it.
Fānqiéluo often sees a psychologist. Maybe he studies psychology privately. He may have tried to suggest something to me earlier. Chuāng Zhēn quickly found what seemed to be a reasonable explanation and refocused on the interrogation. Setting his mind, he gritted his teeth and said, "Are you implying you can communicate with spirits? Did you see Gāo Yīzé's death while communicating with spirits?"
"Exactly," Fānqiéluo smiled and nodded.
"And the deaths of Wáng Wěi, Zhào Kāi, and Máo Xiǎomíng?"
"I don't know who the killer is," Fānqiéluo stared at Chuāng Zhēn for two seconds, then suddenly smiled lightly.
Chuāng Zhēn's last nerve was at its breaking point, thinking he could ease up, but was abruptly cut off by this 180-degree turn of phrase. The vein on his neck throbbed rapidly, and when he spoke again, it sounded as if fire could come out of his mouth, "Fānqiéluo, are you playing me?!"
"What do you mean, playing me? Is that fun?" Although he said this, the steadily deepening arc of Fānqiéluo's smile showed that it was indeed fun.
Just as Chuāng Zhēn was about to explode with frustration, Fānqiéluo approached a bit more, and at the tip of his nose, chuckled, "Of course, I saw it with my eyes, but they were just some blurry light and fragments, nothing clear. How could I know who the killer is? Have you not heard, there is a kind of person in the world who doesn't need any tangible contact. They only need a hint or a flash of thought to understand many things. Their eyes can see the past, discern the present, and unveil the future. They can see what you see through your eyes, smell what you smell through your nose, taste what you taste through your tongue, and even probe your thoughts through your mind."
Fānqiéluo extended his pink tongue and lightly licked his crimson lips, and his originally pitch-black pupils had inexplicably become hazy, resembling a supernatural creature.
His words were illogical and conceptually vague, making it impossible for people to understand what he was trying to convey. But no one could resist watching him, listening to him, and thinking about him. When he revealed his most authentic self, no one could resist the bewitching charm.
Chuāng Zhēn was blown by his breath and couldn't move forward or backward, as if his entire body was tightly enveloped by an invisible magnetic field, and he could only remain in place. His expression remained cold, and his eyes remained sharp, but a fine layer of goosebumps crept from his cheek to his neck, revealing his uncontrolled agitation.
Fānqiéluo leaned in once again. When their noses were about to touch, he inclined slightly, sneering at him, and continued, "As long as I'm willing, your perception is my perception, your thoughts are my thoughts, your past is my past, your present is my present, and your future can also be my future. You have six senses, eye-consciousness, nose-consciousness, tongue-consciousness, ear-consciousness, body-consciousness, and mind-consciousness, while I have eight senses, beyond the six senses, I have Maran testimony and Alaiva consciousness. You can only use your body to understand the world, while I can mobilize all my senses, including my consciousness, to explore the unknown. Everything in the world is a medium for me."
Fānqiéluo slowly leaned back, and at the same time, the invisible magnetic field also receded. This feeling of being controlled by a magnetic field was inexplicable, making Chuāng Zhēn's hair stand on end.
Fānqiéluo's red lips slightly parted, and he said leisurely, "Someone like me seems to be called a medium by the outside world."