Chapter 188: The Unbreakable Old Man

Boom!

A thunderous crash echoed through the air. Though he was still four or five meters away, the middle-aged man in the *magua* [TL note: a traditional Chinese jacket] struck out, and his palm-strike, delivered from a distance, twisted and deformed the steel door. It was ripped directly from its hinges, the central iron pillar snapping into two pieces.

‘How powerful!’ I exclaimed, utterly shaken. Even perceiving the scene through the Gu worm’s eyes, I could viscerally feel the immense force of that strike. If it could blast open such a thick iron door from afar, wouldn’t a direct hit turn a person into a bloody pulp?

This was the offensive art of martial prowess, a reason Yi Zhiqiu was so reluctant to teach me. If everyone learned such a technique, they would become portable bombs. Even the notorious killer old man, I suspected, would surely die if he took such a blow head-on.

As the door burst open, all the police officers raised their firearms. Even the three masters accompanying them drew their respective weapons.

That elderly Daoist priest produced a golden Eight Trigram mirror, while Yi Zhiqiu clutched his peach wood sword. The old woman, however, was the most unusual; she held a simple porcelain bowl.

It was an ancient bowl, its surface yellowed and its interior marred by black mold. The rim was chipped, making it seem like something fit only for the trash, something a normal person wouldn’t spare a second glance if they saw it on the roadside.

Yet, this porcelain bowl radiated a dense concentration of malevolent energy, clearly a cursed artifact. Judging by the sheer volume of this陰氣 (Yin energy), it was undoubtedly a powerful one.

It seemed to be a deeply ingrained habit for these three experts to retrieve artifacts meant for ghosts and demons when preparing for battle. Nevertheless, as masters cooperating with the police, they had to be far more formidable than those half-baked ghost exorcists. Even in unexpected situations, they surely possessed other means of defense.

Moreover, numerous police officers stood by, armed with guns, anti-riot forks, and other batons. No matter how ferocious the killer might be, he would find it impossible to escape this time.

The only one without a weapon was the middle-aged man in the *magua*. Yet, his earlier display had made it clear: his body was his most potent weapon, rendering any other implement superfluous.

Once certain that no hidden arrows or bullets would fly from the doorway, the police chief waved his hand. The officers surged into the cold storage, shouting, “Hands up! Don’t move!”

The police had mentally prepared themselves after surrounding Building Thirteen and gathering information from the surrounding residents. They had imagined countless scenarios for their entry, yet even so, the scene inside the icehouse sent a chill down their spines.

Five naked bodies hung from meat hooks, the unfortunate ghost hunters. They had been drained of blood, pierced by iron hooks, and suspended from the high racks of the cold storage, resembling slaughtered lambs.

Only the female ghost hunter lay on a table, stripped bare. Old Man Zhang stood before her, a butcher’s knife in his hand, actively carving into her face. Her features were already a bloody, mangled mess.

“My God! You demon! What are you doing to her?! Drop your weapon and surrender immediately!” A police officer gasped, roaring in fury.

I steered the Golden Cicada Gu to a high vantage point within the cold storage, granting me a clearer view of the female ghost hunter’s face than the police had. This inflicted an even greater shock and mental corruption upon me.

One of the female ghost hunter’s eyes had been gouged out and stuffed into her mouth. Her nose had been severed and sewn onto her ear, while her wounds were covered by a piece of human skin.

Her face, in short, had been completely cut and stitched beyond recognition.

Upon seeing a group of people rush in, pointing tensely at him, Old Man Zhang showed not the slightest hint of fear. Instead, he turned his head with a smile, saying, “Ah, the little thieves who stole my meat earlier.”

A collective gasp ripped through the officers.

Old Man Zhang’s face, with its completely dislocated features, combined with the blood covering him, instilled a primal fear in the police, despite their mental preparation.

“Drop your weapon! Put down the knife in your hand!” The police officers yelled, their shouts echoing repeatedly through the cold storage.

“Weapon? You mean this knife? It’s just what I use for selling meat,” Old Man Zhang stated, picking up the cleaver. The officers nearly opened fire right then, but Old Man Zhang merely placed the knife back on the chopping block, making no aggressive moves.

“Hands up! Squat down!” Seeing that Old Man Zhang seemed capable of communication, the police continued to issue arrest commands, though they did not relax their vigilance in the slightest.

The hanging bodies, and the disfigured female ghost hunter on the table, served as constant, gruesome reminders of just how savagely depraved this seemingly frail old man truly was.

This time, however, Old Man Zhang did not obey the police. He simply turned back to them and asked, “Officers, are you here to take the little thieves back to the station?”

“Hands up! Let me see your hands! We are here to arrest you!” The police officers sternly repeated.

“Arrest me? But I haven’t done anything wrong, officers. They were the ones who first broke into my cold storage, attempting to steal. I merely caught the thieves,” Old Man Zhang calmly retorted, as if he weren’t being targeted by countless firearms.

“Catch thieves? You’ve committed murder! We are arresting you for murder! Hands up! Let me see your hands!” The police continued to roar, repeating their commands.

“See my hands? Like this?” Old Man Zhang did not raise his hands. Instead, he extended his blood-soaked hands forward, spreading and waving them. This allowed them to see that he held no weapon, but he continued to argue, “I didn’t kill anyone; I merely captured them.”

“Shut up! Hands up and come over here! Any explanations can be given in the interrogation room! Now, hands up and come over!” the police shouted.

“Alright,” Old Man Zhang responded, then simply walked forward, without bothering to raise his hands at all.

“Raise your hands! Let me see your hands!” The police’s tension and stress intensified as they watched Old Man Zhang approach like this, especially as they saw his twisted face.

Yet, Old Man Zhang showed no intention of raising his hands. He ambled forward as if on a leisurely stroll, his distorted features fixed in a subtle, cruel grin, blood still dripping from his fingers. The sheer oppressive presence made it seem as though he might lunge at them at any moment.

In this atmosphere of extreme tension and bristling confrontation, one police officer could no longer bear the pressure. They accidentally pulled the trigger: “Bang!”

A gunshot rang out. Old Man Zhang’s body trembled, a fresh bullet wound appearing on him. A police officer had accidentally discharged their weapon, or perhaps it wasn’t an accident at all.

The single gunshot acted like a trigger. The surrounding armed police officers simultaneously opened fire, and in an instant, a barrage of gunshots erupted.

“Bang! Bang! Bang!” Countless bullets continuously struck Old Man Zhang’s body. He writhed and convulsed at high speed, like a breakdancer, with sprays of blood mist erupting from him repeatedly.

After a considerable moment, the gunfire gradually ceased under the police chief’s shouted command. Old Man Zhang, riddled with bullet holes like a beehive, was still standing.

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