Chapter 98: The Red of Rust

“We’ve met before?”

In the end, it was Luo Shaotian who spoke first, eyes cautious.

At the question, the Master Craftsman slowly turned the respirator-covered face toward him.

“Heh… hehehe…”

A dry, rasping laugh—mixed with the mechanical huff—huff— of the respirator—scraped through the night like two rusted iron plates grinding together, saturated with bottomless sorrow and venom.

“Met before?”

He rolled the two words on his tongue, each syllable squeezed out of a throat ruined by fire.

“‘Met’ doesn’t even begin to cover it… Officer Luo, your memory is really something.”

His mechanical prosthetic leg shifted forward half a step.
The metal foot crushed the gravel beneath it with a sha—sha sound, unnervingly loud in the dead silent night.

“Do you still remember? Five years ago. The fire in Sunshine Happiness Residential Complex.”

“Do you remember… the coward kneeling in front of you, begging you to catch the culprit, begging you to get justice for his family… that pathetic loser?”

At those words, Luo Shaotian’s body visibly stiffened.

“That year, I lost everything.”

The Master Craftsman’s tone remained flat—like he was telling someone else’s story.

“My wife… that woman who nagged me every day about smoking too much—she was burnt into charcoal.”

“I grabbed her hand, tried to pull her out of the fire. What I pulled out… was half a charred arm.”

“My daughter. My little girl who had just entered second grade—who hugged my neck every day after school, begging me to read her storybooks…”

“When the firefighters found her, that tiny little body was curled up under the bed, clutching a completely burnt-black cat in her arms.”

He paused, the flow of the respirator turning faster, messier.

“You know where that cat came from? My daughter found it in the garbage pile downstairs.”

“It was raining that day. The little thing was shivering, mewling like it was crying. My daughter’s heart was soft—begged me all night to let her keep it just for one night, and she’d find it a home the next day.”

“My wife’s heart was soft too. She saw the kid begging, so she agreed. She even bathed the little creature, fed it milk, wrapped it in a towel.”

“My daughter gave it a name—Little Snowball. She was so happy she barely slept the whole night.”

At this point, the Master Craftsman let out a sound—half sob, half laugh—so wrong it made the scalp prickle.

“But who would’ve thought… right across from our place… lived a little bastard.”

“That brat—only ten years old—went around the neighborhood throwing stones at cats.”

“My daughter fought with him, trying to protect that kitten.”

All for that.
Just for that tiny, stupid reason…

“That night, he went to the stairwell, poured gasoline into bottles, lit them, and threw them into our kitchen.”

Luo Shaotian’s expression flickered, darkening.

“I remember you, Officer Luo. Of course I do.”

The Master Craftsman’s mechanical fingers suddenly pointed at him, the voice trembling with rage so intense it nearly tore through the ruined throat beneath the mask.

“When the fire was out, and I woke up in the hospital—with not a patch of good skin left on my body, missing legs, missing an arm…”

“It was YOU. You, wearing that spotless police uniform, sitting by my bed!”

“You swore up and down that the culprit had been caught. You told me to rest easy, that you’d make sure he paid the price!”

“I STILL remember your exact damn words! You said—”

“‘Master Wu, trust me. Trust the country. Trust the law. We will never let a single criminal go! Justice may be delayed, but it will NEVER be absent!’”

He mimicked Luo Shaotian’s voice—slow, deliberate—every word dripping with blood and mockery.

“And what happened? Hah… what happened?!”

“Just because that little bastard was young—just because he was a minor—you didn’t kill him!”

“Two lives! Two living human beings! And money was enough to brush it all aside?!”

His roar exploded, every word like molten rock erupting from deep underground.

“Bullshit law! Bullshit judge! Telling me the kid was too young to punish!”

“That’s the ‘justice’ you promised me?! That’s the ‘law’ you told me to trust?! THAT’S the ‘accountability’ you swore to deliver?!”

“TO HELL WITH ALL OF IT!”

His cries—full of blood and tears—burned into Luo Shaotian’s ears like red-hot iron.

And that scorching pain made his memories eerily clear.

He remembered.

He saw it—
the building blackened by smoke, standing like a gutted corpse under the blue sky.

And he saw a rookie cop fresh out of police academy.

“Mr. Wu…”

He could even hear his own voice from back then, dry and young.

“Master Wu… please accept my condolences…”

He remembered speaking with sincerity—absolute conviction.

“We’ve already identified the arson suspect and will begin the arrest immediately!”

“Please trust me. Trust the country. Trust the law!”

“We will never let a single criminal escape!”

“Justice may be delayed, but it will never be absent!”

The man called “Master Wu” had only cried in silence.

His throat had been scorched by smoke—he couldn’t speak. Only guttural sounds escaped him.

Luo Shaotian had known then—
This man had lost everything in the fire.
His wife.
His eight-year-old daughter.

He remembered clenching his fists, swearing to his own family deep inside:

He would make the culprit pay the highest price.

(Price?)

A voice suddenly surfaced from the deepest part of his mind—taunting.

(So, Luo Shaotian—what price did you actually make him pay?)

(A brat who burned a family alive… only received “juvenile rehabilitation.” That’s a price?)

(Remember your rage. Remember the fury you felt toward this broken, unjust system—your helplessness.)

Luo Shaotian’s pupils contracted sharply, veins popping on his temples.

He felt his blood heating—boiling with the revived memories.

That suppressed, forbidden power lurking within him slithered upward like a shark smelling blood, licking greedily at the reopened wound in his heart.

(…You and him are the same, you know.)

The voice grew seductive, insidious.

(You were both betrayed by this powerless ‘order.’ You both watched evil stroll away before your eyes and could do nothing.)

(That’s why you chose ME, didn’t you?)

(You chose the power that lets you deliver justice with your own hands.)

(You’re right, Luo Shaotian.)

(You’re stronger… purer… than that naive idiot you were five years ago.)

“I…”

His lips moved unconsciously.
He wanted to retort—
but realized he had no argument.

“Yeah…”

Of course he remembered.

He remembered everything.

He even remembered the case a year after the fire—
the massacre that shocked the whole city.

The ten-year-old arsonist—
and his parents, who protected him—
were brutally tortured and killed.

The crime scene was a river of blood.

Every clue pointed to one suspect—

Wu Jianguo.

The sole survivor of the fire.

But…

he had an airtight alibi.

According to medical records and community surveillance,
at the time of the murder, Wu Jianguo was in the rehabilitation center.

A cripple missing both legs and an arm—confined to a wheelchair.

He had no ability to commit the crime.

The case became a cold case.

The first, and most painful, unsolved mystery of Luo Shaotian’s career.

And now…

The answer stood right in front of him.

Slowly, Luo Shaotian raised his head.

His eyes locked onto the Master Craftsman.

The hydraulic prosthetic legs.
The metal-gleaming mechanical arm.

The fragments of memory snapped together.

The Akagane Gang.
The steel graveyard formed by laid-off workers.
The West Hall Lord who could turn scrap into weapons.

“The Wrench.”

“…So that’s it.”

“The Akagane Gang’s ‘Wrench’…”

“He’s the one who helped you stand again.”

Luo Shaotian didn’t know what expression to make.

Understanding?
Pity?
Sorrow?

He didn’t know.

He simply followed his own doubt.

“For revenge, you turned yourself into… this inhuman thing?”

“For revenge, you joined a scummy gang like the Akagane Gang?”

“…Was it worth it?”

The question dropped like a spark into boiling oil—
instantly igniting the madness he’d kept buried.

“Worth it?”

He repeated the word—
the laugh under the respirator sharp and grating, like a rusted saw cutting into the ears.

“Heh… hahahaha… HAHAHAHAHA—!!”

He threw his head back in hysterical laughter.

Tears and despair twisted together in that laughter, as if he were coughing up all his organs through that burned throat.

“My wife is dead! My daughter is dead!”

“And you’re asking me—whether it was WORTH it?!”

The laughter cut off abruptly.

His massive head snapped toward Luo Shaotian.

Behind the goggles, two terrifying red glints flared violently.

“I DON’T KNOW! I CAN’T TELL ANYMORE!”

He roared:

“But there’s ONE thing I DO know—”

“—You uniform-wearing bastards who try to stop me from getting revenge—are no different from that little monster!”

“YOU ALL DESERVE TO DIE!”

“AND TODAY—YOU’RE f*cking DYING RIGHT HERE!!!”