Eager to learn the results of Ji An's investigation as soon as possible, Guan Xia decided not to go home that night and instead squeezed in with Pang Le.
The moment they stepped through the door, the two of them got to work—one on a laptop, the other on a tablet—searching online for any information about the "Judgment Angel."
At first, they were full of enthusiasm, but as time passed, Guan Xia's eyes grew unfocused, her expression numb, and her legs stiff from sitting too long.
Standing up to stretch, she checked the time and realized it was already past midnight. She walked to the living room and asked Pang Le, "Found anything?"
Pang Le was staring blankly at the ceiling, his tablet screen dark and tossed aside. It took him a moment to respond. "Just a bunch of random stuff—nothing connected to any 'organization.' I even dug through a few forums for hours. Either it's all mythology or people arguing about game stats. My head hurts."
He pushed the tablet away, annoyed, then turned to Guan Xia. "What about you? Any leads?"
Guan Xia slumped onto the couch beside him. "Nothing. I even combed through Feng Xingping’s short video account, scrolling all the way to the bottom and checking the comments. Everything looks normal, no red flags."
After a brief silence, Pang Le said, "Honestly, it makes sense. If this group really exists and can kill four people as easily as slaughtering chickens, they’ve probably been around for a while. They’d cover their tracks well. We only stumbled onto this by pure luck."
"Now we just have to hope Ji An finds something," Guan Xia sighed. "Fingers crossed it’s good news."
Guan Xia spent three whole days holed up at Pang Le’s place before finally receiving Ji An’s call.
"I’ve got something," Ji An said the moment the call connected, her tone direct. "I’m already on my way. Let’s meet at the usual spot?"
It sounded like some kind of covert rendezvous, and Guan Xia almost laughed before composing herself. "Got it. See you soon."
Hanging up, she heard Pang Le ask through a mouthful of takeout, "Was that Ji An?"
He was perched with one foot on the chair, eating messily, but the moment he guessed the caller’s identity, he started shoveling food faster.
Guan Xia glanced at her own half-finished meal and began wolfing it down. "Yeah, Ji An wants us to meet at the usual spot. Sounds like good news."
They finished eating in minutes, barely managing to wipe their mouths and throw on shoes before bolting out the door.
By the time they arrived, Ji An was already waiting in the small room. The previously empty whiteboard now held three sketches alongside several new photos, and the projector displayed a paused surveillance video.
Hearing the door open, Ji An looked up. "You’re here."
"Yep, we’re here," Pang Le said, quickly shutting the door and taking a seat across from her. "So, Ji An, is it good news?"
A rare smile touched Ji An’s usually impassive face, her eyes bright. "Very good news. Sit down."
Guan Xia hurried to join Pang Le, and Ji An stood, tapping one of the newly added photos. "Take a look. Does this symbol seem familiar?"
Guan Xia and Pang Le leaned in.
The image was clearly a cropped surveillance still—just the upper body of a man, likely zoomed in. The background was dark, the details unclear. The man wore a cap and mask, revealing only the faint outline of his nose. Ji An’s finger rested on his hand, where he held a phone. After scrutinizing it, they hesitated. "Is that… a tattoo?"
"Exactly," Ji An confirmed, tapping the spot again. "Look closer."
Guan Xia stepped forward, Pang Le right behind her. They had to press nearly against the photo to make it out. "It’s the Judgment Angel."
Guan Xia realized it first. After days of obsessively researching the symbol, she’d recognize it anywhere—even if the photo only showed a third of the winged figure.
Pang Le, who’d also memorized the design, was just a beat behind. "That’s it. No doubt. So Guan Xia was right—there really is a third person."
"Didn’t expect that twist," Ji An murmured, her gaze locked on the man in the photo.
"Does this count as solid evidence?" Guan Xia asked, tense.
Ji An snapped out of her thoughts and nodded. "This was caught on a surveillance camera one kilometer from the crime scene at 1:36 AM on the night of the murder. Combined with the link you found between Feng Xingping and Zhang Weiyan, it’s enough to reopen the cold case."
Guan Xia exhaled in relief. Their efforts hadn’t been wasted. Once they relayed the details to the West District police via Xu Nian, her next "halo recharge" wouldn’t be far off—meaning she could enjoy a stretch of safety and peace.
With Ji An’s words, the weight pressing on Guan Xia’s chest finally lifted, leaving her lighter. Her mind sharpened as she studied the photo again. "January 29, 2021. Why that date? Zhang Weiyan drowned himself on December 19, 2020. Both dates have 1, 2, and 9. Is there a connection?"
The three fell silent, until Pang Le suddenly asked, "When was Chinese New Year in 2021? Late January?"
Guan Xia and Pang Le both pulled out their phones to check, but Ji An answered first. "Already looked it up. 2021’s New Year was in February. Lunar New Year’s Eve was February 11."
"So it’s not tied to the holiday," Pang Le said, then backtracked. "Wait—unless they timed it right before. If so, maybe Zhang Weiyan chose the date?"
Guan Xia frowned. "When did Zhang Weiyan’s father, Zhang Hongxue, drown?"
Ji An thought for a moment. "Autumn, around National Day. But I remember Zhang Hongxue and Zhang Hongda’s father passed away from illness right before New Year’s."
She flipped through a black notebook on the table and confirmed, "January 29, 2008. That year, New Year’s Eve was February 6."
"Got it," Pang Le said, smacking his palm. "That’s too specific to be a coincidence. Zhang Weiyan must’ve picked it. Now we have a direct link between the murders and him."
"This organization is really something," Pang Le remarked. "Not only are they ruthless, but they also seem oddly considerate. What I can't figure out is, what do they want? Money? Zhang Weiyan doesn’t have any. Power? That’s even less likely. And as for looks—well, Zhang Weiyan clearly doesn’t have that either. So, when you think about it, the only thing left is his life."
"His life…" Guan Xia mused. "Why would they go to such lengths to help Zhang Weiyan get revenge, only to want his life? It’s not like they’re doing charity work."
"Maybe it’s their way of recruiting members," Ji An interjected suddenly. "While investigating Feng Xingping’s bank records, I didn’t find anything suspicious, but I did uncover something else."
Guan Xia and Pang Le immediately straightened up, their eyes fixed intently on Ji An.
Ji An tapped a finger on another photograph—this one showing a middle-aged man in his forties, balding, overweight, with a face full of coarse features. Though not old, his eyes were dull, giving off a sleazy vibe.
"This man," Ji An said, "died in 2018—homicide. The case remains unsolved. Coincidentally, he was Feng Xingping’s stepfather and had a prior conviction for child molestation."
Understanding Ji An’s implication, Guan Xia widened her eyes in shock. Pang Le exclaimed, "Damn, so Feng Xingping was the previous Zhang Weiyan. What about the third person? Does he share the same pattern?"
"I didn’t look into that," Ji An admitted. "Based on the current leads, this person is a strong suspect. I didn’t want to risk alerting him by digging further."
"Right, right," Pang Le agreed. "Let’s leave that to the police. We shouldn’t spook him."
Guan Xia was equally unsettled by Ji An’s findings. She studied the sketches and photos pinned to the board, then glanced at the open projection screen. "What’s this surveillance footage…?"
Ji An turned toward the screen. "This is a clip where we can see half of the suspect’s face. He seems to be a heavy smoker—less than three kilometers from the crime scene, he stopped to light a cigarette on the roadside. Unfortunately, he never removed his hat, so we only got a partial view. He also pocketed the cigarette butt instead of discarding it."
"Professional and cautious," Pang Le noted. "By the way, Ji An, what was the cause of death for Zhang Hongda’s family of four? And this killer must be trained, right? Both of Zhang Hongda’s adult sons were home when they were murdered."
"Death by sharp force trauma to the heart—instant kill," Ji An replied. "Based on the method, I’d say this suspect has more than just these four lives on his hands."
Guan Xia scrutinized the paused footage. "So, this man joined the organization much earlier than Feng Xingping, but he doesn’t look that old."
Ji An rewound the video and played it again.
From the camera’s high vantage point, the footage captured a quiet intersection in the early hours of the morning, nearly 2 AM. The streets were nearly empty, with only a few passersby. Soon, a man in a black jacket, black cap, and blue mask rounded the corner and entered the frame.
Though his face was obscured, his movements betrayed agitation—swaying his neck, rubbing his nose through the mask. As Ji An had guessed, he seemed desperate for a smoke. He finally stopped by a greenbelt, yanked off his mask, and lit a cigarette with visible urgency.
After finishing it, he regained his composure, stashed the butt in the pack, and hurried away, vanishing from the camera’s view.
"That behavior…" Pang Le hesitated once the video ended. "Are we sure it was just nicotine cravings? Could that cigarette have been laced with something?"
Guan Xia, though a non-smoker, also found the man’s pre-smoking demeanor odd.
"No cigarette butt was left at the scene," Ji An said, "so we can’t confirm whether it was just tobacco or something else. But once the West District police bring him in, we’ll know if he has a drug history."
Guan Xia exhaled and leaned back in her chair. At this point in the investigation, both she and Ji An had pushed their leads as far as they could. The rest was up to the police.
She looked at Ji An. "Ji An, do you know anyone at the West District Criminal Investigation Division?"
Ji An grasped her meaning instantly but shook her head. "Lu Tingfeng might, but I don’t. I used to work for the Ningyun Provincial Police in Shangshuang City."
"Ningyun Province?" Guan Xia and Pang Le were surprised. "That’s thousands of kilometers from Dingyuan Province. How did you and Lu Tingfeng even meet?"
"Fate," Ji An said with a faint smile. "I’ll tell you the story after this case wraps up."
Guan Xia’s focus snapped back to the present. Since Ji An had no connections to the West District police, she’d have to rely on Xu Nian again.
Checking the time—already past 9 PM—she hesitated briefly but decided not to delay. She dialed Xu Nian.
He answered promptly, his voice calm. "Guan Xia, what’s up?"
Cutting to the chase, she said, "About that case we discussed earlier, I remembered a few more details, and…" She paused, glancing at Ji An, who nodded permission. "And my friends and I uncovered some new information. We think the West District police need to know. Could you help us get in touch with them?"
Xu Nian sounded surprised. "What a coincidence. I’m at the West District precinct right now, talking to the head of their investigative team. If you’re willing, you can come here, or we can meet you somewhere else."
Unable to decide alone, Guan Xia replied, "Let us discuss it, and I’ll get back to you."
After hanging up, she relayed Xu Nian’s words to Ji An. "Should we go there, or pick another spot? Also… are we breaking any laws by investigating like this?"
Ji An chuckled at her unease. "Don’t worry. At worst, the police will scold us for taking risks and tell us to leave things to them. But they won’t arrest you—I promise."
Guan Xia exhaled in relief, finally at ease.
