The eerie atmosphere made the scene seem frozen solid. Several detectives felt chills all over and shuddered before finally coming to their senses.
They had handled many cases, but this was the first scene they had encountered that was so horrifying. Instinctively, they sensed some indescribable danger—a danger born of the unknown.
"Devil..."
"Demon..."
They sucked in cold breaths and gripped their guns, preparing to enter and investigate. Just then, a bearded detective suddenly spoke: "It's him!"
"What?" The chief detective halted in his tracks.
The detective trembled faintly, his teeth chattering. His voice was thick with unmistakable fear. "Don't, don't go in!"
After a pause, he said, "I know this child. No, this devil!"
"He's a devil?" The chief detective found it utterly incomprehensible. He could not help looking at the little boy, who had been scared senseless, and at that face tinged with a sinister green beneath the lamplight.
Could he really have killed all those people?
The other detectives wore similar expressions, unable to understand why their colleague would say such a thing.
"I, I was in charge of a case involving him before! When he was born, the flu broke out, and every member of his family died within a few days. Then he was adopted by an orphanage. Over the next five years, the orphanage suffered a fire, a robbery, a lightning strike, and internal riots. Thirteen people died every year without fail. It became known as the playground of the God of Death."
The bearded detective could not hide his terror as he recalled it. "The year before last, that orphanage shut down completely after its nickname, the playground of the God of Death, spread far and wide. He was adopted by one family after another, but, but every family that adopted him eventually