Chapter 013: The Principles of Sculpture

The first thing that caught my eye was a steel cable, as thick as a finger.

A steel cable threaded through human flesh.

For a moment, I thought my eyes were deceiving me. But upon careful inspection, I was certain: a steel cable had been passed through Song Yuan’s emaciated body, specifically drawn out from his lumbar vertebrae.

One end of the cable was secured to the crossbar of a bicycle; the other end was threaded between the bones of the lower back, effectively pinning the person in place. Any attempt to move off course would be restrained by the steel cord.

Everyone knows the lumbar spine is one of the most sensitive parts of the human body—even the slightest movement there can cause excruciating pain. This was the genius of Du Jiang’s design: a single steel cable had transformed three people into motionless statues.

On the bicycle’s side, the cable was fastened with a brass-core lock, securing the knot tightly. To remove the steel cable, one would first have to unlock it.

“This is unbelievable!” Xu Meijing was so horrified by the scene that she was left dumbstruck. “How did Du Jiang manage to thread a steel cable through all three of their spines?”

I analyzed that this procedure wasn’t difficult for a professional doctor. With knowledge of the body’s skeletal structure, it could be done, but it was a highly technical task—essentially a surgical operation that would take several hours at the very least. Any misstep could lead to instant death for all three. Managing to accomplish this in such a short time was the real challenge.

It was the first time I suspected Du Jiang might have had an accomplice. Setting aside the pre-designed killing machines, just this setup alone would require two or three hours of work. Du Jiang couldn’t have done it all by himself.

“That bastard Du Jiang! Damn your ancestors for eighteen generations!” At the mention of steel cable through the spine, Yang Zhihong erupted, “If you’re a man, come out and fight me one-on-one! Stop hiding like a coward!”

In the middle, Song Yuan wept and wailed, “Du Jiang! We were at least college classmates. Yes, we wronged you back then, but do you really have to go this far? A steel cable through the spine could kill someone! Let us down and let’s talk. Please, don’t let it end in death…”

Of the three, Gao Xiaolong was the most arrogant. His family owned a mining operation, and he’d arrived in a BMW X5, decked out in luxury brands. With his mouth cut open, he shouted toward the Red Cigarette Box’s speaker: “Du Jiang, isn’t it all about money? Name your price and I’ll have my dad transfer it to you. In this world, what can’t money solve? Release us, and I’ll give you fifty million! Fifty million is enough for you to live in luxury for the rest of your life!”

“Enough!” I interrupted, annoyed. After all these years, these three hadn’t changed a bit—Yang Zhihong still domineering and violent, Song Yuan still sycophantic and manipulative, and Gao Xiaolong still believing money could solve anything.

“You still think Du Jiang is the same pushover from two years ago, don’t you? Look at Ji Haifeng’s still-warm corpse beside you. Go see Gu Meijuan and the class teacher’s bodies. Let me tell you, you three are Du Jiang’s sworn enemies. Your fate will be even worse than theirs—utterly inhumane! And Gao Xiaolong, let me tell you, money is useless here! Your money can’t buy back Du Jiang’s legs; your money can’t cure his AIDS!”

“Beep… beep…”

The electronic warning of the Red Cigarette Box sounded, and the raspy male voice spoke as expected: “Welcome to the world of the Red Cigarette Box. Zheng Yan is absolutely right—this is a fair and just world. Heaven’s net is wide, and nothing escapes it. Every blood debt will be repaid here.”

“While the anesthetic is still working, I will now announce your sentences. Yang Zhihong, male, born 1987 in Donghai City, currently a personal trainer at a gym. In college, you were vicious and brutal, injuring dozens of students. After graduation, your habits only worsened. On July 5th last year, you robbed a college student, taking an iPhone and 1,200 yuan in cash, inflicting a mild concussion before fleeing. On August 12th, for a woman at a KTV, you seriously injured a man surnamed Han and fled. This January, you accidentally killed a male gym client, disposed of the body in a lake, and the case remains unsolved.”

Yang Zhihong, surprisingly, did not refute but frowned and asked, “Du Jiang, where the hell did you find all this out? You put in a lot of effort for revenge, huh? Even the police don’t know all this, but you do?”

Xu Meijing and I exchanged glances, both seeing surprise in the other’s eyes. If what Du Jiang said was true, Yang Zhihong was a bona fide murderer—someone who should be executed.

“Well then! Since you know, let me down already. I’ve already got blood on my hands—one more won’t make a difference! Damn it!”

The Red Cigarette Box ignored his outburst, continuing: “Song Yuan, male, born 1988 in Xiaohai Village, Donghai City. Song Yuan, you are clever—always reading the room and currying favor. In college, you thrived on your silver tongue, but you built your own success on the suffering of countless Du Jiangs. After graduation, you took your knack for opportunism to its extreme, securing a government job and manipulating your way up through cunning schemes. How many dirty tricks are hidden in your record? You hold leverage over others and use it for your own advancement. In this society, the most dangerous aren’t the corrupt officials, but small-minded schemers like you!”

“No! No! You’re lying! I didn’t do anything! I didn’t beat you back then; I was just a bystander. Your leg, your illness—none of it has anything to do with me. Du Jiang, you’ve got the wrong person. I’m innocent!”

“Innocent? My ass!” Yang Zhihong spat, “Song Yuan, have some shame! Which of those schemes weren’t yours? You always called yourself our advisor! Song Yuan, you’re the real culprit! Every trick was your idea—including breaking Du Jiang’s leg!”

“Gao Xiaolong, son of the Shunde Coal Mine owner in Donghai City, you think money can buy anything. To you, money is omnipotent—it can cover up any crime, buy any woman’s body. But in reality, no amount of money or mines can buy people’s hearts. Take Xu Jiaojiao, for example…”

Xu Jiaojiao? I didn’t know why Du Jiang would bring her up now. Back in school, Xu Jiaojiao was a legendary figure—beautiful, charismatic, the daughter of a real estate tycoon whose family funded the construction of our dorms.

Xu Jiaojiao was the school’s golden girl—gorgeous, sexy, the apple of everyone’s eye. Anything she desired, countless people would line up to give her. Many male students dreamed of marrying into her family for a life free from want.

Gao Xiaolong was one of her suitors. I remember he once placed 9,999 roses at the classroom door, serenading her with a guitar in a public display of affection, only to be kicked over by Xu Jiaojiao herself, smashing his guitar. That kick cemented her legendary status.

Xu Jiaojiao was a sore spot for Gao Xiaolong, and at the mention of her, he lashed out: “Mind your own business! Who the hell do you think you are, Du Jiang? Don’t let me get out of here, or I’ll wipe out your whole family!”

The Red Cigarette Box laughed coldly: “Heh… Settle your own debts before you talk. I told you—this is a fair world. If you’ve made mistakes, you will be punished. On Du Jiang’s birthday, you gave him a broken leg and a fatal disease as a ‘gift.’ Today, I’ve prepared gifts for the three of you—gifts I’ve chosen with great care. I hope you never forget them.”

“Next comes the test of your brotherhood. Before you are three stationary bikes, each corresponding to a gift. Who gets their gift first depends on your cycling speed. Your only hope for survival lies with Zheng Yan and Xu Meijing. If they find the key during the race, you can end it early. The bike race begins now! Good luck!”

“Clack! Clack! Clack!”

Before I could grasp the rules of this so-called contest, the killing mechanism activated, and three bright red boxes descended from above.

These were specially made metal boxes, about the size of regular suitcases, painted with a vivid red, each adorned with a red heart and seven-colored ribbons. Clearly, Du Jiang had indeed prepared three gifts.

The boxes landed on the tracks between them. Six conveyor belts began to operate, moving the boxes forward. After about six or seven meters, the boxes would fall directly onto the three captives.

From this, I began to understand the mechanism: it was essentially a conveyor belt setup. The design itself wasn’t particularly terrifying or perverse; the horror lay in the three gifts Du Jiang had prepared. No one knew what was inside those boxes, nor how heavy the consequences would be.