Dual wielding volcanoes, killing through the west

There was no response. In his hysterical rage, Frank calmed himself down. Although his wrist was still sore from where he had smashed it, he cared more about what was deep inside him—the suppressed unease had finally disappeared.

"Yes, yes, that's right."

Frank wiped his face, picked up his paintbrush again, and changed his paper. Although he had finished the wine, he felt he didn't need it anymore.

Just then, there was a knock on the door.

----

"Dong dong!"

Zhang Renfeng was a light sleeper. Even with the howling wind outside, he still heard the knocking sound mixed in with the noise. When he turned his head, he saw that the firewood in the fireplace had long since burned dry without him noticing. He took out his pocket watch and saw that it was 6:12 a.m. The outside was still pitch black, with not a trace of dawn in sight.

With such heavy snow, he could no longer hear the breathing and heartbeat outside the door through the wall. So he waited a while, and about five seconds later, the knocking sounded again, even louder than before. This time, both Ren and Tito opened their eyes and sat up in bed.

"Get ready." Zhang Renfeng didn't say much, just left with this sentence, and then drew the Volcano Pistol from his belt.

If it had happened yesterday afternoon or evening, he wouldn't have been so wary and would probably have opened the door normally.

But now, the blizzard caused by the cold wave has been raging all night and hasn't stopped yet. Anyone with eyes can tell that the weather is not suitable for going up the mountain. Most people with a sound mind would choose to find a place to take shelter and wait for the blizzard to pass. So, the person who can brave the blizzard and knock on this door located high in the mountains must be no ordinary person.

Gunman?

Horse bandit?

the wanted?

It's possible that none of those are true, but by preparing in advance, you'll definitely have the initiative in your own hands.

Ren once again lay in ambush in the darkness behind the fireplace, a single knife in his hand, ready to provide support at any moment.

……

Open the wooden door.

A bright silver glint swept across his eyes in the cold wind.

Standing in the snow was a "sturdy and slender" girl. Zhang Renfeng rarely used such a word to describe a girl, and very few girls met his standards for using this word. But without a doubt, the girl before him was one of them.

She wore a tight-fitting brown leather armor set, lined with chainmail, arm guards, knee pads, and hard-soled leather boots. A metallic belt cinched her waist, outlining her slender figure. Hanging from the belt was a strangely shaped gun, somewhat resembling a miniature crossbow, but more for decoration, as Zhang Renfeng could hardly ignore the two swords on the girl's back.

Counting on his fingers, this should be the first person he encountered in this vast west who used a "sword" as a weapon.

A knife-wielder, a swordsman, a boxer—it's like winning the lottery that this small, corrupt Dover Manor could gather three such extraordinary individuals at the same time.

What's most striking isn't the girl's black cloak billowing in the wind, but her hair.

Unlike the old man's white hair, this was silver, with a cool, metallic sheen. Zhang Renfeng had seen plenty of blonde hair, and occasionally even red hair, but this silver hair was a first for her. Literally, it caught her eye.

The silver-haired girl was very open and honest. In terms of height, she was not much shorter than Zhang Renfeng, and they were almost eye-to-eye.

Observation is mutual; while he was observing her, she was also observing him.

Amidst the heavy snowfall, those emerald-like eyes narrowed slightly. "Won't you let me in?"

"That depends on what you're here for." Zhang Renfeng didn't budge. A smile returned to his lips, and his hand no longer rested on the gun handle, but hung down naturally.

In his mind, he began to picture the girl drawing two swords from behind her the next moment and slashing at him from all directions.

But she didn't. Instead, the girl cleared her throat and threw him a question in return, "Did you all stay here last night?"

"Yes." There was no point in hiding it, so Zhang Renfeng told him the truth. "What's wrong?"

“My name is Silverfrost. I’m... how should I put it, let’s just call me a mercenary. I’ll take any job as long as the money is right. This job came in a really urgent way, and the client can’t find anyone else but me.”

Silver frost.

Like Red Fox and Old K, they often use code names to avoid enemies in the industry. Not long after the incident where they caused him to go berserk and lose control, Zhang Renfeng still felt lingering fear about his mercenary identity, and his brow furrowed slightly.

Yinshuang gently swept the snow in front of the door with the back of her foot, explaining, "He asked me to find someone who got lost on this mountain just two days ago. According to the employer, he disappeared almost instantly. At that time, it hadn't snowed this much yet."

"The employer is very worried about her condition and hopes I can handle her in a way that will cause her as little harm as possible..."

----

"ah----!!!"

When it comes to bringing someone to their senses, nothing works better than a scream.

Zhang Renfeng reacted instantly, interrupting the conversation and running towards the corridor.

But to his surprise, this dazzling silver color was just as good as his, not lagging behind at all.

Chapter 422: This is Red Center's KDA!

The door was wide open. Vivian slumped to the ground, leaning against the wall, covering her mouth and nose, her shoulders heaving in panic and helplessness.

In contrast, Zhang Renfeng, who barged in, was as calm as if he came from another planet.

"Frank...he...he..."

"Yes, I saw it." Zhang Renfeng's heart was slightly stirred.

A quick glance down reveals crumpled pieces of paper on the floor, and an unfinished half-painted oil painting on the easel.

Judging from the number of crumpled papers, he must have been working until well past midnight. This process of constantly sifting through discarded drafts reminded him of an eagle. If it reaches a certain age and is still alive, it must fly to a cliff and desperately smash its beak and claws against the rocks until they fall off, bathed in blood and feathers, and grow back completely new.

There was no sign that the stove had been lit in the room, meaning he had done all this in the freezing cold.

The man was very rude to him upon their first meeting, but Zhang Renfeng didn't think so; he didn't think the man deserved to die for it. This was the general attitude of most white people towards him, and further north, the treatment of Chinese laborers was even worse and more appalling. Unless he became president, this problem was unsolvable for the time being. Zhang Renfeng didn't have the power to change the stereotypes of millions of people about him; he only hoped that the man would stay out of his way for the next few days—that was enough.

And now, this wish has been fulfilled in a bloody way.

Frank was hanging on the wall like a slaughtered rabbit, waiting to be sold in a butcher shop.

His eyes bulged out, staring intently in a certain direction below. His feet dangled in the air, and his body was already somewhat stiff. He had been struck hard in the throat, his Adam's apple crushed, preventing him from screaming. The murderer's tool was a broken chair leg, which had pierced directly into his shoulder blade, through the wall, and pinned him to it like a painting.

His clothes were ripped open, revealing a hole in his chest, and his heart was gone.

“Good heavens…” Tito couldn’t help but twitch her brow, but her reaction was more like disgust than fear. She muttered to herself, “Where did I end up? Is this really the 19th century? It feels so comforting, like coming back home.”

"How many people are left?" Zhang Renfeng asked quickly.

“They’re all here.” Ren glanced at the corpse hanging on the wall. Clearly, he was a man of the world and showed no emotion. “I’ve sealed the door. The two coachmen are in the hall, and the other two artists should be in their respective rooms.”

“…Eleven, twelve. Counting the one he’s currently drawing, thirteen, a total of thirteen drawings. The murderer certainly didn’t think these drawings could provide any information, so he just left them on the ground.” Zhang Renfeng counted the crumpled papers on the ground one by one, then turned and asked, “Generally speaking, how long does it take to draw a picture like this?”

“Everyone’s drawing pace is different, so I can’t say for sure, because I’m particularly slow…” Vivian frowned, looking troubled. “He’s very good at this. According to him, he can finish a decent painting in about thirty minutes.”

thirty minutes.

Zhang Renfeng frowned slightly. He regretted it once again. He shouldn't have let Mike, Xiaomei, Igor, and Jimmy leave him all at once; he should have at least taken one with him. His habitual dependence on these external brains made his mind like a machine without lubrication—it could turn, but it would turn haltingly.

He looked to the side as if seeking help.

Ren was another story; he knew this type of person all too well—basically a lower-tier version of himself, all brawn and no brains. All that swordsmanship training was for when his mind went blank, so he could just charge in with his sword?

Sure enough, Kenkawa Jin consciously retreated outside the door, not even appearing in his sight, so as not to occupy his thinking space.

Tito sighed, cleared his throat, looked at him with a hopeless expression, and then said, "That's assuming he performs normally, right?"

……

"Yes, just his usual performance!" It was as if a lightning bolt had struck Zhang Renfeng's mind. He suddenly realized, "The fact that he produced so many rejected drafts means that he wasn't in good shape last night. Maybe his hands were cold, or maybe he had some emotional fluctuations after arguing with Li De. In short, he was dissatisfied with every single painting."

“I didn’t realize that.” Tito shrugged. “He seems to have quite a passion for art when it comes to his work. In this situation, he has a million reasons to cut corners and do a shoddy job, but he still redraws it again and again.”

“Mr. Frank…” Vivian seemed to realize this as well, and involuntarily turned her gaze to the corpse hanging on the wall.

Perhaps, deep down, this man wasn't as frivolous as he appeared. He also had his own pursuits and passions, which had once burned brightly.

Unfortunately, I no longer have the chance to learn more about him.

“Since that’s the case, let’s assume he had an off day. Each painting took longer than usual, maybe 10 to 15 minutes longer.” Zhang Renfeng began racking his brains to calculate. If there were an abacus on site, he might be able to finish even faster. “There are 13 paintings in total. Starting from the time he entered the room, that’s… um…”

“Around 3:30 a.m. last night, considering that murder also takes time, I don’t think it’s unreasonable to bring it up to 3 a.m.,” Tito quickly gave his answer. “What we need to figure out now is where the remaining people were and what they were doing during that time period.”

"Wait a minute!" Vivian exclaimed, sensing the underlying meaning in her words, "You don't mean to think..."

“The answer is obvious. The murderer is among us, except for her.” Zhang Renfeng turned her head and gestured towards Yinshuang with her chin. “She came this morning.”

Vivian shuddered when she saw the two swords behind Silverfrost. She stopped arguing, simply took two steps back for no apparent reason, and silently slipped out of the room.

Silverfrost, however, paid no attention to this action. She was more like an energetic female detective, chin in hand, approaching the already cold corpse and examining it carefully. Looking wasn't enough; she even reached out and tentatively felt around in the hole in Frank's chest, and even though she was wearing gloves, the action itself still sent chills down one's spine.

"Are you... natives of Dofuchu?"

“I work there, but most of the time I’m out and about,” Zhang Tito asked, puzzled. “What does it matter?”

“No wonder, it seems you didn’t know…” Silver Frost measured the depth of the opening with her hand, clearly certain, “This method was done by [Dover Ripper].

“Dovercho…” Zhang Renfeng frowned.

"The Ripper?" Tito looked puzzled. "Never heard of him!"

"Because the mayor didn't want the title to spread and become as catchy as the Oregon shrike. Every time someone was killed, the newspapers would rush to report it, which could make the killer addicted to it and continue killing in order to gain fame and attention. He didn't want a repeat of the tragedy of White Torch, so the name 'Dover Creek Ripper' would never appear in any official statements."

"However, while it may be out in the open, it's been widely known in private... This guy specializes in taking hearts, which is a bit different from the Australian Shrike. He's quite famous in our circle, considered one of the 'Five Great Serial Killers of the West'."

"Five notorious serial killers?" Zhang Renfeng's lips twitched into a bitter smile. "There are actually five of these freaks?"

"The Shrike of Aozhou, the Ripper of Dover Hill, the Nymph of Water, the Slayer of Springstown..."

After naming four names, Silver Frost raised her fifth finger and murmured, "And Red Center."

Zhang Renfeng froze on the spot, unsure of what expression to make, his smile frozen on his face.

He didn't know the KDA of the others, but he had a pretty good idea of ​​his own. Calling him a serial killer wouldn't seem like a valid argument.

……

"Thump—!!"

Just then, a muffled thud came from the opposite side of the corridor, as if someone had slammed something heavy against the wall.

"No, get out! Get far away from me!"

Li De's roar echoed in the corridor, lingering for a long time.

Chapter 423: Justice Stained with Blood

"Hey, what's going on inside...?"

"Someone's dead! That guy with the mustache who painted nudes, oh my god... he had a hole in his chest, someone ripped his heart out, fucking like a ghost. What kind of luck do we have, coming out to drive a carriage for someone and running into something like this?"

"The man was killed last night. The mountains were blocked by heavy snow, and there was no one else outside the house. The killer is probably still hiding among us right now."

"Damn it, is there even a question? It must have been that stone carver who killed him. The others had no grudge against him, so why would they kill him? It's unbelievable... Our contract stipulated that we would pay the other half of the money after we arrived in town. Now that he's dead, it's like we've been carrying a corpse all this way. What incredibly bad luck!"

"Well, on the bright side, at least he paid half the fare. If his contract stipulated payment upon arrival, we'd be losing money..."

……

Inside the hall, because the main entrance was locked by Ren, the two coachmen couldn't get out and could only huddle in the corner, furtively discussing the explosive news they had just learned.

Last night, they slept directly in the living room. Ren didn't need to wake them; after such a serious incident, those who were supposed to be awake would have been awake long ago. The two of them were like ants on a hot plate, restless, pacing back and forth along the edge of the living room. They spoke very softly, as if afraid that if they raised their voices, they would disturb the real murderer.

Ren was following Zhang Renfeng's instructions to wake up the people who were still sleeping, but in reality, he only needed to wake up the two artists.

The old man, a landscape painter, calmly opened the door after knocking twice. He was now standing steadily behind Ren, motionless, as if asleep standing up, whether still half-asleep or something else.

Zhang Renfeng leaned against the door frame, his gaze sweeping over everyone in the hall, as if trying to etch this scene into his mind.

He sensed something was off, but couldn't quite put his finger on it. He just wanted more time to think. His mind wasn't that quick, but he wasn't stupid either. Many things he couldn't understand right now needed to be put into his head, go through a few twists and turns, before he could figure out what was wrong.

However, the rapidly deteriorating situation did not give him such an opportunity.

"We mean no harm. Your name is Reed, right? Come out and let's talk. Don't be so tense. Come out first. We don't have any weapons."

In stark contrast to the old man, Reed, inside the room, displayed extreme resistance upon hearing the knock, like a hysterical mad dog.

"I said...get out...get out! I told you not to come in!" Reed's furious roar came from inside the door, his emotions extremely unstable. The extremely high tone seemed to be just a way to mask his tension and fear. "I don't want to talk to any of you!"

The commotion was quite loud, attracting Tito and Silverfrost as well. Vivian was left alone in the room, alone with the Frank image on the wall.

In the dry, cold air, she stared into Frank's frozen gaze for a moment, then looked around as if searching for something.

Whether she found it or not, she sighed, slowly stepped forward, and extended her right hand, as white as jade, pure and flawless, to gently touch her already cold forehead.

"Rest in peace, no matter what."

……

"Boom!"