SES Chapter 125 Part 1

Chapter 125

Mu Dai was a little nervous. As she held the thermal imager, her hand twitched as if something had suddenly darted beneath her skin.

Cao Yanhua was still tirelessly testing for a “heartbeat.” Even Yi Wan San, tricked into curiosity, pressed his ear against it to listen.

The camera shifted to the angle Luo Ren had pointed out.

The principle of thermal imaging is simple—it produces a heat map, sometimes called a temperature image. Different colors represent the varying temperatures of what’s being measured.

Some horror films exploit this effect—for example, alien monsters that detect body heat. No matter if a person hides under a bed or behind a rock, one sweep of those huge glowing eyes reveals the outline of their body and the sound of their breath, making audiences scream in fright.

On the screen, Mu Dai saw a human figure pressed close to the ground. Different colors spread across its body—glowing green, vivid red, darkened black. Maybe because of blood flow, those colors seemed to ripple, as though the figure itself were breathing. The crimson outline of its head lifted slightly, like a beast ready to strike.

Mu Dai gasped. From behind her, Luo Ren wrapped an arm around her, steadying her trembling arm.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said. “Look carefully.”

Her breath came fast, her eyes darting as though they wanted to look away, but she forced herself to keep them fixed.

“In the past,” Luo Ren said, “when we fought at night and both sides were at a standoff, we used thermal imaging to observe the enemy’s state.

“If they were afraid, their chest temperature would rise, but their limbs would be cold. If they were angry—anger being the most intense of all emotions—their upper and lower body temperatures would contrast sharply. The upper body would blaze hotter, especially the head, glowing crimson. That old phrase about being ‘blinded by rage’—it’s not just empty talk.

“And if they were sad or despairing, their bodies would turn nearly blue, like cold.”

Then softly, he asked her, “Which one is she?”

The figure was exactly the one Luo Ren had described: poised for battle, her upper body glowing crimson, lower body dark, chest cavity blazing so bright it seemed to burn like fire.

Mu Dai lowered her voice without realizing it. “This type… is the most terrifying, isn’t it?”

Luo Ren shook his head. “No. The most terrifying is when the entire body is nearly black—so calm that there’s almost no fluctuation in body temperature at all.”

Mu Dai whispered, “Then what do we do now?”

“If the enemy doesn’t move, we don’t move. Watch her. See what she wants to do.”

Mu Dai nodded faintly, though a strange thought flashed through her mind—

Could that crouching woman be her mother, Xiang Silan?

Cao Yanhua and Yi Wan San finally noticed Mu Dai and Luo Ren’s tension.

“Little Master, what are you looking at? It’s pitch-black out here—you can’t see anything. Why not use the flash?”

He thought she was holding a camera.

Luo Ren smiled faintly, beckoning them closer. Only when they approached did he lower his voice:
“She’s still there. In the rice field. Lying flat.”

Cao Yanhua’s mouth fell open. Once it registered, goosebumps rippled all over him. Yi Wan San wasn’t as rattled. He asked Luo Ren, “So what now?”

“Sit down and wait,” Luo Ren said. “Make her unsure of what we’re planning.”

So they sat in the open space not far from the Tengma platform, flashlights switched off. Four people, four silent silhouettes—uncertain, unreadable.

Cao Yanhua muttered under his breath, “This is called laying a false trail.”

Luo Ren looked at him. “Cao Fatty, sometimes when you talk, you string together all these fancy sayings like you’ve read half the classics.”

Pleased, Cao Yanhua puffed up. “Of course. At Jiefangbei, who doesn’t know me—Cao Ye, lover of books?”

“Even my name shows it. Anyone well-read would recognize the reference: ‘Kong, Cao, Yan, Hua; Jin, Wei, Tao, Jiang’—it’s right there in the Hundred Family Surnames.”

“Your parents gave you a thoughtful name,” Luo Ren remarked.

Cao Yanhua looked even prouder. “My parents? They can’t even read. They didn’t name me—I chose this myself. An artistic name. A man in the jianghu needs a name with some weight behind it.”

Yi Wan San cut in: “So what was your real name before?”

Cao Yanhua went silent instantly. After a moment, he switched topics, flicking on his flashlight to scan the Tengma platform. “Lots of scribbles up here.”

Yi Wan San wasn’t letting him off. “Cao Fatty, what was your real name?”

He tugged at Cao Yanhua’s sleeve. Cao Yanhua leapt away, shaking him off, and darted to the edge of the platform, pretending to study the carvings.

Mu Dai still had her eyes locked on the woman in the field, but she could hear their antics. It almost made her want to laugh.

Then Cao Yanhua suddenly exclaimed, “This name—Sun Hailin—it sounds so familiar.”

Luo Ren thought so too, but before he could place it, Cao Yanhua slapped his thigh.
“Right! Isn’t that one of the guys whose wallet I—uh, I mean, found?”

He remembered. Sun Hailin—the so-called “witness” to Yi Wan San’s car accident. Cao Yanhua had even tested his blood.

“Old man like that,” Cao muttered, “still playing around like the youngsters.”

Luo Ren’s chest tightened. Some kind of clue was hovering just out of reach.

The flashlight beam dimmed. Cao Yanhua leaned around to the far side of the round platform, the light gilding the Tengma statue, making it look even more mysterious in the dark.

Yi Wan San murmured at its silhouette, “In ancient times, this really could have been an altar. Doesn’t it look like it? With the rice fields bowing in the wind—like worshippers. Then a priest on the platform, chanting spells to the heavens…”

A shiver ran through Luo Ren. He barked out instinctively: “Cao Yanhua!”

Startled, Cao stuck his head out. “Huh?”

“Look carefully at the names carved up there,” Luo Ren said. “Do you see Song Tie, Ma Chao, or Wu Yuping?”

Mu Dai froze, but kept her eyes glued to the imager, though her heart pounded violently.

She felt as though loose puzzle pieces were about to snap together.

After a pause, she heard Cao Yanhua call out:

“Song Tie—yeah, he’s here. Zhang Tong too… Haven’t seen Ma Chao yet, but he should be—he’s one of the little leaders.”

“And Wu Yuping… nope, not here.”

Yi Wan San came over to help search.

The dizzying array of names blurred together like ants, countless enough to fill another Hundred Family Surnames.

But indeed, no Wu Yuping.

Cao Yanhua looked up. “Brother Luo, someone Wu Yuping’s age—a middle-aged auntie like her—wouldn’t come here to mess around, would she?”

Before Luo Ren could reply, Mu Dai suddenly shot to her feet.

Luo Ren’s instincts flared. “Closest to who?”

“Cao Yanhua!”

Even without her answer, it was obvious. Behind Cao Yanhua, the rice stalks rustled and parted in a fast, low ripple, like a wave cutting across the sea.

Cao blinked, confused, then terror dawned. “Me?!”

Luo Ren didn’t stop to think. He vaulted onto the platform in two strides, grabbed Cao Yanhua by the shoulder, and yanked him close. A gust of wind bent the rice at the edge, revealing the faint silhouette of someone standing stiffly there.

Cao Yanhua shrieked, flinging himself backward.

Yi Wan San cried out, panicked, “There! There’s someone there!”

Overhead, a shadow swept past—it was Mu Dai.

It happened too fast for Luo Ren to sort out the order of events. He only knew that as he hauled Cao Yanhua back, Mu Dai had already tackled the figure, the two of them rolling into the rice.

Then came a scream.

A scream so chilling it made Luo Ren’s heart stop for several beats.

The next instant, he was at the edge of the rice field. Just as before, all he saw was a receding trail of bent stalks, rushing away.