Someone Fired a Gun

The system fell silent for a second, then a line of text appeared before his eyes.

[Verification successful. The subject's identity is: ordinary human.]

Lin Yang closed the interface and opened his eyes in the darkness. The corners of his mouth curved slightly. "Then the answer is clear."

Early the next morning, everyone woke as soon as daylight filtered through the windows. No one needed to call them.

Everyone knew today was judgment day.

When Lin Yang came out of the office, everyone had already formed a semicircle on their own.

Zhang Hao and his two companions were held in the middle. Zhang Hao still looked defiant, his brother kept his head down, and the balding middle-aged man remained as unhurried as ever, his eyes half open as though he were dozing.

Lin Yang first walked up to Zhang Hao's brother.

He casually asked a few questions. "What were you doing yesterday? What about the day before? What did you eat? What's your mother's name?"

He answered them all. But he was timid and visibly nervous as he spoke.

Everyone looked at him with suspicion. "This guy acts so shifty. Could he be the one?"

"I'd say he probably is!"

Lin Yang said nothing. He patted him on the shoulder, then turned and walked toward the balding middle-aged man.

He asked the same questions.

"I was sleeping last night, and the night before too... My mother's name is..."

The balding man's expression was calm. His answers were flawless! He calmly answered every question without hesitation.

The fat man and the others nodded. "This man looks honest and simple. He doesn't seem like a Faceling!"

"That's right! The last Faceling must be that Zhang Hao's brother!"

"..."

Lin Yang looked down at him and was silent for two seconds. "All right, I know who the Faceling is."

The fat man raised the utility knife, already aiming it at the young man's neck.

The classroom was so quiet that only the sound of breathing remained.

Then Lin Yang raised his hand and pointed at the balding middle-aged man.

"Kill him!"

The middle-aged man froze for an instant, then his expression began to change. There was no vicious look of someone who had been exposed!

His eyes turned red!

They filled with tears that glistened in the gray daylight and ran from the corners of his eyes to his chin!

"No! It's not me..."

His voice trembled. It wasn't trembling with fear, but with the hurt and helplessness of an honest man who had been wrongly accused.

"Look at me! I have a child. My son is only four, and he's still waiting for me to come home. I don't know why Brother Lin pointed at me, but I really am not a Faceling. I can swear it to heaven!!"

He turned to the people around him and pressed his palms together, as if begging everyone to take a good look at his face.

"Look at me. I'm this old, and my hair's all fallen out. Do I look like a Faceling?

"If I were a Faceling, why did I spend the past two days looking for food with you? Why did I behave myself and never make a move when I stood watch?

"If I were a Faceling, why didn't I run away last night?"

People in the crowd began to waver.

Shen Cheng's younger sister pressed her lips together, her gaze darting between the middle-aged man and Lin Yang. "Brother, could he... be a good person?"

Shen Cheng said nothing. He shook his head and rubbed her head.

A few older women lowered their heads. They didn't speak up for anyone, but neither did they move toward the middle-aged man.

Doubt was a seed. Once planted, it would take root in silence.

Liu Yan squeezed out of the crowd and stood in front of the middle-aged man. Frowning, she pointed at him.

"That's not right! A few days ago, when I was with Zhang Hao, this uncle brought me food.

"He was hungry himself, but he still broke off half a biscuit for me. Would a Faceling go hungry to share food with someone else?"

She turned to glance at the middle-aged man. He nodded at her, and another tear fell.

"Yes, I remember that!" a small, thin man beside her said quietly.

"He doesn't talk much, but he's pretty honest. He really doesn't seem like a Faceling..."

"Could Brother Lin have... made a mistake?"

"That's a human life at stake."

Those last words seemed to open a floodgate.

More and more people began whispering to one another, their voices rising like the tide.

Shen Cheng stepped forward. He sided with neither Liu Yan nor Lin Yang, but simply frowned and asked a question.

"Lin Yang, what evidence do you have that proves he's definitely a Faceling?"

Lin Yang said nothing.

Because Shen Cheng was right to ask.

He had no evidence. He was ninety-nine percent sure that the balding man was a Faceling, because verification couldn't be wrong.

But he couldn't tell them about the system. Once his identity as the seer was exposed, he would be the next person to die in the night.

He could only use something else.

Lin Yang stepped forward and stood before the balding man.

"Last night, I saw an eye," he said. The room fell silent at once.

"The eye that looked in at me through the vent. There was a scratch at the corner, left on the skin by rust scraped off the iron grate! I saw the same scratch at the corner of his eye."

He reached out and pointed to the outer corner of the middle-aged man's right eye.

Everyone followed his hand with their eyes.

There was indeed a thin red mark at the outer corner of the middle-aged man's right eye. It was so faint that no one would notice it without looking closely.

A low murmur rippled through the crowd. Some leaned closer, while others sucked in a breath.

But the middle-aged man didn't panic. He raised a hand, touched the red mark beside his eye, and gave a bitter smile.

"Brother Lin, I got this from the corner of a drawer yesterday when I was searching a desk for food. Shen Cheng was right beside me at the time. You can ask him."

Shen Cheng froze for a moment, then slowly nodded.

"I did see him crouching by a desk, but I didn't notice whether he got scratched then."

The middle-aged man looked even more aggrieved.

"Did you hear that? Even your own man isn't sure. Brother Lin, I know you want to protect everyone, but I really am not a Faceling.

"If you kill me, you'll have killed an ordinary person. You'll be a murderer! You made the rule: no killing without absolute proof. Are you going to break it yourself now?"

His words were flawless. Every sentence struck at Lin Yang's weakest point. The rules he had relied on to establish his authority had now become shackles preventing him from killing.

Several people who had been hesitating just moments ago now looked at Lin Yang with wariness rather than uncertainty, as if he were the one they needed to guard against.

Lin Yang bent down and picked up the utility knife the fat man had dropped.

The blade gleamed coldly in the gray daylight. He glanced at the knife, then raised his head, his gaze passing over the crowd and settling on the face of the middle-aged man, who was still playing for sympathy.

"I made the rule," he said calmly.

"If someone has to break it, I'll do it."

He took two steps forward.

"No!"

Two girls rushed out and spread their arms, blocking the way to the middle-aged man.

"Brother Lin, you said we couldn't kill people recklessly! What if he really isn't a Faceling? If he really isn't, we'll have killed a good person!"

"That's right! If you kill him, how are you any different from a Faceling?" the other shouted.

The fat man raised his stick. "All of you, get out of the way! Lin Yang says he's a Faceling! Then he's a Faceling!"

Just as the two sides were on the verge of coming to blows.

"Bang!"

A tremendous blast rang out!

The sound was unlike any other in this world.

It was crisp and sharp, like a bolt of lightning splitting the corridor from one end to the other!

Everyone flinched and ducked their heads. The girl with the ponytail screamed and covered her ears, and the table leg in the fat man's hand nearly slipped from his grasp.

Then everyone turned!

Liu Jialiang stood at the edge of the crowd.

He held a gun in his right hand. Its body was pitch-black, with signs of wear on the surface, and yellowed tape was wrapped around the grip.

A thin wisp of smoke still rose from the muzzle.

His stance was steady, and the hand holding the gun didn't shake. He looked through the sights in the same direction,

The balding middle-aged man lay on the floor!

The bullet had gone through his forehead, and blood poured from the little hole. It was black!