Desperate people, accept the seed of my soul!

In a small alley during his escape, Shen Qinghou took a short breath and pressed his back against the cold brick wall.

The rage that had consumed reason when Gu Yanzhi and Lao Zhang were executed had completely subsided, leaving only empty shells. Every part of his body ached, and every bone groaned from the unbearable strain.

He looked down at his hands; the bandages had long since come undone, revealing the stitched wounds. A dent had formed at the tendon site, and the scabs had split open, with blood seeping out and mixing with mud, dripping down between his fingers and splashing into the muddy puddles on the ground, spreading out like tiny dark red flowers.

He still held the wreckage of the guqin in his arms. Broken strings were covered with bits of flesh and dried blood. The soundboard was cracked from being smashed, and splinters of wood were embedded in his forearm. He felt no pain, only that the guqin was as heavy as a mountain pressing down on him, making his chest feel suffocated and even his breath tasted rusty.

He tried to stand up straight, and a sharp pain shot through his left knee, as if someone had chopped it directly into the bone with an axe. It was so swollen that it filled the entire leg of his trousers, and the fabric was so stretched that it seemed about to tear.

The skin around the gunshot wound on my left shoulder was burning hot, and the edges of the wound were an abnormal red. The area that had been soaked in dirty water had started to ooze pus, which was sticky and stuck to my clothes. Every heartbeat made the wound throb with pain, and half of my body was numb.

The buzzing in his ears wasn't from the outside world; it was tinnitus caused by excessive blood loss, like thousands of bees were buzzing in his brain, making his temples throb.

He swallowed hard, his throat was as dry as sandpaper, and the metallic taste in his mouth grew stronger and stronger, burning down his esophagus and making his stomach churn.

He slowly slid down the wall to the ground, his forehead against his knees, and took a few breaths. Each breath brought a sharp pain to his chest and ribs, as if broken bone fragments were repeatedly stabbing his lungs.

He tried to focus his mental energy to perceive his surroundings. The dark purple seed in his sea of ​​consciousness was still there, but its light was dim, like a candle flame that was about to burn out and would be extinguished by a gust of wind.

He knew he could no longer use his abilities; if he plucked the string again, he might go completely deaf and never hear a sound again for the rest of his life.

A muffled shout came from outside the alley, several streets away, but it was moving in this direction.

Someone yelled, "Chase him! Drag that beast out of here!"

Shen Qinghou leaned against the wall to stand up, his fingers digging into the cracks in the brickwork, his fingernails flipping up halfway. A piercing pain shot from his fingertips to the top of his head. He gasped for breath and used his other hand to steady himself against the wall.

He used the scattered bandages to bind the broken pieces of the guqin to his back, the broken strings dangling in front of his chest like dead snakes, rubbing against his wounds, making him shudder in pain.

He leaned against the wall and walked deeper into the alley. His knees went weak with every step, and his shoes left shallow bloodstains as they scraped the ground. He knew he had only temporarily shaken off his pursuers. He needed to rest and find a secluded place to treat his wounds. Otherwise, he would die in this ditch before the security guards even found him.

------

At the execution site, the stench of blood was so strong it was like solidified paste, making one's stomach churn; even a single breath could taste the salty, fishy flavor of blood.

The young security guard, Zhou Cheng'an, knelt on the gravel, his knees aching painfully, but he didn't feel it, his gaze fixed on the person in front of him.

Old Zhang lay in front of him, his chest caved in like a cotton quilt that had been smashed by a hammer, his ribs shattered into pieces, and his coat was soaked in blood and stiff, like a blood-soaked iron plate.

The blood at the corner of his mouth had dried, leaving a dark red streak that stretched from his lips to his ear. His eyes were half-open, his pupils dilated, and he was looking towards the alleyway entrance.

Old Zhang's last stop was the alley entrance—he told Zhou Cheng'an to wait there for reinforcements while he went in first to scout ahead, refusing to let him follow, saying that newcomers lacked experience and wouldn't be able to escape if there was any danger.

Zhou Chengan reached out and tried to close Old Zhang's eyelids a few times, but they bounced back and wouldn't close, as if Old Zhang was still staring at the direction of the alley entrance, waiting for Zhou Chengan to let him know he was safe, waiting to catch the murderer, and waiting to retire and go home to take care of his grandson.

"Old Zhang..." His voice was squeezed out of his throat, as if someone was choking him, hoarse and incoherent. Tears fell onto Old Zhang's cold hands, leaving small wet marks.

Someone behind him shouted, "Gu Yanzhi is dead too! All four limbs are shattered! His face is smashed beyond recognition!"

Someone else shouted, "News has come from the music academy: all six bodyguards are dead in the lobby of the teaching building, bleeding from all seven orifices! Their bones are shattered!"

Fang Yuan, the security officer leading the support team, kicked over a nearby trash can. The metal can rolled out and crashed into the wall with a piercing clang that made people's ears ring.

"Eight people!" His voice boomed, shaking the alleyway. "That beast killed eight people! Especially Old Zhang, whom he killed right in front of us!"

He pointed at Old Zhang's corpse on the ground, his fingers trembling, his voice trembling, and his eyes red as if about to drip blood.

"Old Zhang has been a policing officer for thirty years. He knows the situation of every household better than the neighborhood committee! He's the first to arrive when a call comes at three in the morning. He never refuses to work on holidays. He teaches new recruits step by step if they don't know how to do something! Last month, his son got engaged, and he was so happy that he treated the whole team to dinner. After drinking, he told me, 'Old Fang, I'll work for two more years and then retire. I'll take care of my son's child then.'"

Fang Yuan's voice suddenly went hoarse, his Adam's apple bobbed a few times, and he swallowed back the sob that was rising in his throat.

"He's lying here now, beaten to death! We didn't even have a chance to save him!"

Someone smashed the windshield of a police car and punched it; blood trickled down between the fingers.

"Chase him! Chase him to the ends of the earth and grind him to dust!"

"Lock down the city! Turn the old city upside down!"

"I'm going to kill him with my own hands! To avenge Old Zhang!"

Someone's hand holding the baton was trembling; it was an uncontrollable rage. His knuckles were white, and his bones were cracking.

Someone pulled the gun out of its holster and put it back in, repeating this several times, his teeth grinding together and his cheeks taut like stones.

Zhou Cheng'an stood up. His pants were torn at the knees, and blood seeped out, staining his trouser legs red. He didn't care. He looked at Fang Yuan and called out in a tearful voice, "Team Leader Fang."

Fang Yuan looked at him, his eyes bloodshot.

"Old Zhang told me to guard the alley entrance." Zhou Cheng'an's voice trembled, tears mingling with the blood on his face as they streamed down. "He went in to scout ahead, telling me to wait for reinforcements. I should have gone in with Old Zhang! That way, nothing would have happened!" He took a step forward, his back ramrod straight, like a javelin. "Let me participate in the pursuit. This is what I owe Old Zhang! I'll personally bring that beast back to pay for Old Zhang's life!"

Fang Yuan stared at him for a few seconds, nodded emphatically, then turned and roared at everyone, his shout so loud it made the plaster on the alley walls crumble: "Chase him! Find that beast! Alive or dead! Avenge Old Zhang!"

Three security cars started up at the same time, their engines roaring back and forth in the narrow alley like the howls of wild beasts. The tires rolled over the broken glass and pools of blood on the ground, and the splashed liquid hit the wheel arches, making a sticky sound.

Zhou Chengan sat in the passenger seat, clutching Lao Zhang's police badge in his hand. The metal edge hurt his palm, causing blood to seep out. He gripped it even tighter, his knuckles turning white.

Outside the car window, Old Zhang's body was covered with a white sheet, which was immediately soaked with blood, leaving a large patch of dark red, like a flower blooming in a pool of blood.

He watched the red patch grow larger and larger, his grip on the police badge tightening until his nails almost dug into his flesh.

The sky ahead was just beginning to brighten, a hazy grayness pressing down on everyone, making it hard to breathe.