The Diary Leading to the Truth?

Tang Luo snapped the chain locking the iron gate and pushed it open.

"Let's go in and take a look."

The other two naturally had no objections and followed in Tang Luo's footsteps.

Zhou Zhenguo even checked the corpse to confirm it was thoroughly dead.

Disemboweled and gutted—a classic Jack the Ripper signature—but strangely, not a drop of blood had flowed out.

It was just like Old John that night.

They had no intention of trying to deduce exactly what abilities Jack the Ripper possessed through various phenomena and clues anymore.

Zhou Zhenguo and Chu Chongtian followed behind Tang Luo.

The only thought in their minds was, "Screw him."

It wasn't that they were fearless, but rather the helplessness of a last stand.

"Something's wrong."

Not trying to guess Jack the Ripper's abilities didn't mean they had stopped thinking.

As soon as they stepped into the manor's grand hall, Tang Luo and the others realized the situation before them was off.

The hall was empty, devoid of the slaughterhouse scene reported in the news and rumors.

There were no corpses, nor were there any bloodstains.

No corpses was normal enough.

Even if they wanted to preserve the crime scene, the bodies would eventually be removed, with outlines drawn in the corresponding places to mark them.

However, the bloodstains had also vanished.

That was not normal.

Bloodstains were crucial clues and evidence.

Even if Scotland Yard had a collective lapse in judgment and decided to scrub the blood away, it would be impossible to clean it this thoroughly.

The entire hall showed no traces of any murder ever having taken place—except for the white human outlines drawn by Scotland Yard.

Instead, it looked more like it had been burgled.

No, it should be said that it had indeed been burgled.

Many valuables were missing, leaving behind only the empty spaces where they had once sat.

"Even the blood is gone," Chu Chongtian said. "What is this? Has Jack the Ripper started turning into a god in this small town?"

"Let's check the secret room."

Tang Luo said, heading toward the second floor.

On the second and third floors, the "corpse outlines" were clearly much fewer than on the first.

The three arrived at the study; the door was closed but unlocked.

Opening the door, they could see the same gaps left behind by the removal of valuables.

As for books, few people considered them worth much.

The detectives from Scotland Yard had also failed to discover the secret behind the bookcase.

According to information from Scotland Yard, Count Thorndike and the others were still in a "missing" status.

They had not been found as corpses and confirmed dead.

"Master, is this where you killed those people below?" Chu Chongtian asked inside the narrow elevator.

He saw quite a few shell casings on the floor.

"Mn."

Tang Luo said, "That Ominous was obtained from Count Thorndike... I wonder if those bodies are still there."

They arrived at the basement.

A thick, heavy scent of blood rushed to meet them.

There were dried, dark bloodstains on the floor.

But all the corpses had vanished.

Just like the situation outside.

"Does Jack the Ripper eat people too?" Chu Chongtian said.

After the investigation, the three left the deserted manor and continued toward the small town.

"Perhaps."

Zhou Zhenguo thought for a moment. "Do you think Jack the Ripper is getting stronger?"

"Getting stronger?"

"From the initial sneakiness to the current large-scale slaughter, even the corpses and bloodstains vanish," Zhou Zhenguo said. "I think he must be growing stronger little by little through these killings."

"Donor Zhou's words make a lot of sense."

Tang Luo nodded, expressing his agreement.

Chu Chongtian looked up at the sky at a forty-five-degree angle.

He had been constantly analyzing the abilities and the upper and lower limits of Jack the Ripper, wanting to achieve the effect of "knowing oneself and knowing the enemy."

As a result, a single sentence—"he is growing stronger"—had overturned everything.

Today's wind was a bit noisy.

"So the longer we drag this out, the more disadvantageous it becomes for us. Perhaps by then, even the Master will no longer be a match for him."

Zhou Zhenguo spoke somewhat tactfully; in his view, Jack the Ripper was already difficult enough to deal with as it was. "We must keep searching, we must find his true form!"

"The only clue is the dagger. Tell me, is there a name engraved on it?"

Chu Chongtian asked.

Engraving names on personal items was not an uncommon occurrence.

"I didn't see one," Zhou Zhenguo said with a helpless laugh. "Maybe it's engraved with 'Jack'."

"Wait!"

Suddenly, Chu Chongtian stopped in his tracks.

It was as if a darkness behind his mind had been pierced by a narrow line of light, sparked by Zhou Zhenguo's helpless joke.

Masaka!

"Jack the Ripper—why is he called Jack?" Chu Chongtian asked a question that seemed as basic as why one plus one equals two.

At first glance, it sounded simple, even idiotic.

But upon closer inspection, it was a world-class, super-difficult problem.

"Because it's a very common name?" Zhou Zhenguo suggested.

Jack the Ripper, Spring-heeled Jack, Jack from the Titanic.

Jack was an incredibly common name.

"That's in the real world, in the West," Chu Chongtian countered. "In this small city, how many 'Jacks' have we encountered, aside from that Jack White? Not a single one. This is not a common name here."

"It's not just a convention that everyone decided to call him that."

"Think about it. The documents we received explicitly state 'Jack the Ripper.' Why would Scotland Yard name the killer that way?"

"It's officially defined as the Jack the Ripper serial murder case; there must be a reason for it!"

"The name 'Jack' should be a clue no less important than the dagger."

"I've been wrong so many times! This time, by the laws of probability, I should be right at least once!"

Chu Chongtian was very excited.

Must I be wrong for a lifetime just because I was wrong once?!

I, Chu Chongtian, refuse to accept this!

"It makes sense."

Tang Luo nodded again, offering his Zen-like agreement.

"Master, let's go to Scotland Yard and ask clearly why he is called Jack the Ripper," Chu Chongtian said.

"Very well."

The three of them arrived at the chaotic Scotland Yard.

After receiving several eye-rolls and impatient rebukes, they finally obtained what they wanted.

Jack the Ripper had been officially named by the Inspector of Scotland Yard.

It was roughly after the third murder that the Inspector had officially named him and ordered a comprehensive investigation.

The clues actually pointed to the highest law enforcement officer of the small city?

Moreover, this officer was already dead.

His body had been taken away by his family, and the funeral had already been held.

Why the Inspector had named the killer Jack, no one knew.

Perhaps the Deputy Inspector who was close to the Inspector knew, but that person was also dead.

The remaining Deputy Inspector, in fact, did not have a good relationship with the Inspector.

All of the Inspector's personal belongings had been sent back to his home.

Consequently, Tang Luo and his companions headed to the Inspector's residence.

After presenting the document, perhaps because it bore the Inspector's own signature, they were permitted by the Inspector's family to enter his study.

They began to look for any discoveries.

They had originally prepared themselves for a forced entry or a nighttime infiltration.

Now, they were searching step-by-step, without any excessive twists and turns.

Tang Luo forcibly pried open the safe hidden inside the study desk cabinet.

The detective's family did not know the combination to the safe.

They hadn't called a locksmith or a blacksmith to force it open yet, either.

Therefore, it had remained perfectly intact.

Inside was a revolver, a few bullets, some money, some documents, and a diary.

Keeping his expression neutral, he tucked the diary away and told the detective's family that the safe was broken and contained a few items.

Tang Luo and the other two left and began to read the diary.

"Holy crap!"

A few minutes later, Chu Chongtian couldn't help but exclaim.

"He sure knows how to play."

Tang Luo offered his assessment.

The diary recorded the detective's colorful nightlife; "he sure knows how to play" was an understatement.

But this was clearly not what they were looking for.

Continuing to flip through it quickly, they found the dates in the diary were not continuous.

Sometimes he wrote two or three entries a week, sometimes only once.

There were even gaps of ten days or half a month.

"It's been torn out."

Soon, Tang Luo and the others saw traces of diary pages having been ripped out.

"You've got to be kidding me."

Chu Chongtian let out a mournful sigh.

The frustrating quest chain of "I want to complete Task A, so I go find B, B gives me Task C, and to complete Task C I have to go find D" felt like it was about to jump right out in front of them.

Fortunately, after flipping a few more pages.

What they originally thought was missing had grown back again!

"Detective, where are you headed?"

"To the palace gates, to lose my manhood, to see my colleagues, to serve the Emperor."

"And if you never return..."

"Then I shall never return!"

Thankfully, thankfully, the detective was not that kind of person.

Chu Chongtian was instantly overjoyed and began reading with insatiable hunger.

After a dozen blank pages, the next recorded date was a few days before the first murder occurred—

November 23rd.

That nightmare again.

I write it down, then tear it out.

Now I know, I seem unable to escape it.

Thirteen days!

Thirteen whole days!

The same dream!

In the dream, I lie on the cold, hard ground, my vision a blur.

Shadowy figures sway before me; I cannot see them clearly.

I do not know who they are, either.

Intense pain radiates through my body, yet I cannot move a muscle.

I endure it bit by bit, until the moment I suddenly wake from the dream.

The pain lingers on my body, slowly fading, as if it had truly existed.

November 24th.

The same dream, the same blurred scene, the same intense pain.

Likewise, even struggling feels like a luxury.

However, this time, I vaguely heard a name—Jack.

Is it the name of the "me" in the dream, or one of those blurred figures?

November 25th.

I didn't have a dream today; it seems I am finally shaking it off?

November 26th.

A murder occurred last night; the victim was disemboweled, and the impact has been terrible.

The nightmares have vanished, but trouble in reality has arrived.

November 30th.

Another murder, damn it!

December 5th.

Fine, this is the third one, and I've started suffering from insomnia.

Perhaps this is a good thing; at least I don't have to worry about the nightmares anymore.

December 8th.

I didn't suffer from insomnia, nor did I have any nightmares, which sounds like a good omen—

If not for the fact that I woke up in the middle of the night to find myself standing at my bedroom door!

Thankfully, Mary and I have been sleeping in separate rooms for five years.

At least she won't discover my sleepwalking?

December 10th.

I want to lock myself away because I found a trace of blood on my body.

I don't know what I did while sleepwalking, and I am feeling somewhat terrified—

December 24th.

Well, aside from the damn serial murders, there are no other worries for now.

I need to give the murder case a name; let's call it the Ripper, the Jack the Ripper case.

Thanks to a lecher who reads a lot of books, Tyrannosaurus Journey, and Miao Zhi for the tips!