The police inspector's face turned livid as he aimed his pistol at the psychologist, whose expression was equally grim.

Li Ang, securely hidden behind the psychologist, said coolly, "If the two neighboring households—who frequently visited the Yiji Shrine and were very likely members of the organization—were the first to discover the deaths at the Fushen Pingyuan house, their priority wouldn't have been to report it to the Wakayama City police.

Although the Yiji Shrine Organization's influence is vast, having infiltrated various sectors of Wakayama City, including the sanatorium, directly involving the police would still carry the risk of exposure.

After all, the day of the celebration was quickly approaching, and there was no room for error.

The best course of action would be to conceal the news of the Fushen Pingyuan family's death, allowing the organization's specialists to handle the situation, at least until they found Weimen Ziyuan, who had been designated as the Shrine Maiden.

For this reason, they could send a real police inspector and a psychologist to conduct an interrogation..."

The Inspector took a deep breath and said solemnly, "Chuan Sang, perhaps your reasoning is correct. An organization that worships Tennyo Yiji is indeed lurking in this city, and they are responsible for the tragedy that befell the Fushen Pingyuan family.

However, this is truly the interrogation room of the Wakayama County police headquarters..."

"If this were truly an interrogation room, then at this very moment, armed officers would have already charged in attempting to subdue me."

Li Ang smiled. "Unless, of course, this is some secret stronghold of the Yiji Shrine Organization. And those stationed outside aren't well-trained professional officers, but two or three weak devotees whom I could kill before making my escape..."

Before Li Ang could finish, the Inspector's face tensed, and he pulled the trigger without hesitation.

The bullet whirled from the barrel, tore through the air, crossed the narrow wooden table, pierced the psychologist's forehead, and grazed Li Ang's hair, leaving a trail of blood.

The gunshot sounded muffled and oppressive in the soundproof room. Li Ang violently pushed the psychologist's corpse aside. He bent slightly and slammed his body into the wooden table, sending it careening towards the Inspector.

BANG!

The wooden corner of the table struck the middle-aged Inspector hard in the waist. He stumbled backward, his arm flailing uncontrollably upward.

Seizing the moment, Li Ang pushed himself up with his hands on the table—chair still tied to his feet—and leaped onto it. Like a breakdancer, he slid sideways across the surface on his back, skillfully snatching the psychologist's pen that lay there.

Just as he was about to slide off the edge, he drove the pen's tip into the Inspector's eye socket, burying it to the hilt.

The Inspector's body convulsed violently, instantly drained of all strength, and he collapsed to the floor.

Li Ang, also hitting the ground, kicked the wooden table over so its surface faced the door. He seized the pistol with one hand and reached for the handcuff keys hanging at the Inspector's side with the other.

All of this happened in a flash.

In the next second, the interrogation room door was violently smashed open, and three menacing, pistol-armed plainclothesmen burst inside.

However, they were met only by three successive bangs of gunfire.

The three men fell, bullets striking their foreheads. Li Ang, having just unlocked his leg cuffs, rose to a squat and took a long breath.

In his mind, Wanli Fengdao and Xing Hechou silently watched everything unfold. They hadn't been able to interject during the earlier deductions. Only Liu Wu Dai could keep up with Li Ang's train of thought, explaining to them the true meaning of Fushen Pingyuan's poem.

Watching Li Ang deftly strip the bulletproof vest and jacket from one of the dead men and put them on, Xing Hechou hesitantly said, "Brother Li, are you now going to..."

"Find Weimen Ziyuan."

Li Ang glanced at the surveillance camera in the corner of the ceiling and said calmly, "This anomaly began because of her, and it should end because of her."

He stood up, walked out from behind the overturned wooden table, picked up the several handguns scattered on the floor, and pushed open the interrogation room door.

He found himself in a spacious and dimly lit warehouse. The lights were off, with only a few rays of light penetrating through gaps in the ceiling.

From outside the warehouse, he could faintly hear the sound of waves, boisterous voices, operating machinery, and moving vehicles.

Looking back, the so-called "interrogation room" was actually a small, soundproofed room built inside the warehouse.

Behind the one-way mirror in the interrogation room, there was nothing.

He could even see the "surveillance camera" wires extending from the room's ceiling, hanging down outside, and connected to a laptop on a small wooden table in the warehouse.

"Heh."

Li Ang shook his head, took the laptop, and opened the warehouse's main door. He pressed the car key he'd found on one of the gunmen, followed the sound of the car horn, and got into the sedan.

It was now three twenty-five in the afternoon.

At 4:17 PM, in the top-floor office of the Wakayama City sanatorium, the bodies of guards lay scattered about.

The sanatorium director, a man with a full head of gray hair, sat in his chair, pale as a sheet. He looked at the middle-aged man before him with extreme fear and stammered, "What... what have you done?"

"Me? Just cleaned up some trash." Li Ang smiled as he finished reloading his handgun magazine. He took off his blood-stained outer jacket, then picked up the director's suit from the coat rack.

As he put it on, he continued, "I was also lucky. The celebration is just around the corner, and all those bigwigs who believe in the Yiji Shrine were here enjoying the 'special services' of the Shrine Maidens. It was a perfect opportunity to take them all out in one go."

The director's face turned ashen. He knew very well the terrifying power those bigwigs possessed.

He also knew that this man, who clearly didn't care about killing, would not spare him.

Although he knew, fear of death ultimately prevailed when push came to shove.

His teeth chattered, his wrinkled face contorted, and tears streamed down his cheeks as he begged, his voice pitiful and fervent, "Please, I beg you, I don't want to die..."

"Who does?" Li Ang shook his head and delivered a bullet to the director's forehead.

The gunshot reverberated, shaking the windowpanes.

Li Ang methodically flicked the bloodstains from his new suit collar, turned, and left the office. He entered the hallway and began to push the wheelchair.

The man in the wheelchair bore some resemblance to Fushen Pingyuan. It was Fushen Xiulai, his face fixed in a carefree, innocent smile.

Fushen Pingyuan's cousin had long ago been reduced to a vacant and docile invalid by a frontal lobotomy—

Some candidates who failed in their bid to become Shrine Maidens also underwent this surgery, then served as Tennyo, attending to the dignitaries who visited the Yiji Shrine.

Of course, by now, those dignitaries and their bodyguards were all lying in the basement. They had met grisly deaths, and their departures were anything but peaceful.

The Tennyo, however, had been moved by Li Ang to another room.

Pushing the compliantly smiling Fushen Xiulai, Li Ang left the sanatorium, now thick with the stench of blood. He took out his phone and made a call.

"Hello, Tokyo Television? I have some big news regarding the Wakayama City Yiji Shrine... Yes, I'll email the list and information shortly."

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