Chapter 73: Paradise of the Devil [Sixth Update]

Yan Yu’s eyelid twitched; it seemed Hao Zhuang’s words had struck a nerve with Feng Liang.

Hao Zhuang quickly shut his mouth, and the fat man, understanding the situation, silently stepped forward and kicked Yang Yongsheng again.

This beast—he defiled not only girls, but boys as well...

“Just now, I sensed a heavy resentment... something terrifying,” Feng Liang said, glancing warily at Yan Yu’s left arm.

Yan Yu gave a faint smile and patted his arm. “Don’t worry about too much for now. Let’s tie up Yang Yongsheng first.”

Feng Liang complied, binding Yang Yongsheng tightly to the office chair. He then picked up a dagger and handed it to Yan Yu. “If you won’t let me do it, then do it yourself. I want to watch him die.”

Yan Yu took the dagger, but tossed it into a corner. “I can’t kill him either. Let’s all look for evidence of Yang Yongsheng’s crimes and hand him over to the police. He’ll get what he deserves.”

Feng Liang silently picked up the dagger from the corner. “I don’t believe it.”

The fat man tried to console him. “Justice may be delayed, but it never fails to arrive.”

“Delayed justice—is it really justice?” Feng Liang sneered. “Yang Yongsheng has killed so many, yet justice has never come. Why should justice appear only after I’m tortured to death? Is my death meaningless, or does justice simply not exist?”

A heavy silence fell.

Yan Yu pressed down on Feng Liang’s hand, the one gripping the dagger, and said, “You may not believe in justice, but you can believe in me.”

Feng Liang looked at Yan Yu, and finally put down the dagger.

“There must be evidence of Yang Yongsheng’s crimes here in his office. Let’s search together. We’re bound to find something!”

With that, Yan Yu began rifling through the drawers in Yang Yongsheng’s office.

But Feng Liang spoke up. “No need to look. Yang Yongsheng would never hide that evidence in a drawer. The evidence... is here.”

He walked to the bookshelf, silently pointing to a parchment-bound book.

On its cover was the image of a ram’s head.

Yan Yu frowned at the symbol.

So Feng Liang had already found proof of Yang Yongsheng’s crimes while he was alive, but before he could expose him, he was tortured to death.

Feng Liang gently pressed the parchment book, and with a dull sound, the bookshelf began to slide apart, revealing a staircase leading underground.

“What... what’s going on?” the fat man and the others gasped in surprise.

“All the evidence you need is in there,” Feng Liang said.

“Let’s go down and take a look.”

—

The moment Yan Yu descended the staircase, he wrinkled his nose at the overwhelming stench of formalin.

Formalin—a preservative solution, used specifically to soak corpses.

As soon as he entered the basement, Yan Yu was stunned by what he saw.

The small basement contained more than a dozen glass jars, each only half as tall as a person, and packed inside each one was a naked corpse.

The youngest victims appeared to be about ten years old, the oldest barely twenty—boys and girls alike, all strikingly attractive.

There were few wounds on their bodies, and every face bore a strange, eerie smile.

“These bodies...” Yan Yu swallowed hard. He recognized them all—they were the very ghosts who had just been following Yang Yongsheng.

Among them, he could also see Feng Liang’s own corpse.

Feng Liang walked to his own jar and gazed at it in silence.

“Yang Yongsheng is a true monster. He likes adults, he likes children, he likes women, he likes men, and even... he likes the living as much as he likes the dead.

“Anyone who resists him is tortured to death, their bodies stuffed in these jars for him to admire forever. He calls this place—‘Paradise for Devils.’”

Yan Yu walked to an empty jar and looked down. The nameplate on the jar read: Chen Miaofu.

Even Yan Yu couldn’t help but shudder. Had he not arrived in time today, perhaps Chen Miaofu would have ended up as one of Yang Yongsheng’s ‘collections.’

Suddenly recalling something, he anxiously searched the jars.

Thankfully, his mother’s corpse was not among them.

“That day, when Instructor Yan brought me to Yang Yongsheng’s office, after he molested me, he still wasn’t satisfied. On a whim, he took me down here to admire his collection—and even wanted to molest me again in front of these bodies... I resisted, so he killed me, and made it look like suicide.”

Feng Liang walked to a chair in the center of the basement, his finger gently tracing the wires attached to it.

“Do you know why our bodies have so few wounds? Yang Yongsheng doesn’t like scars, so we were all electrocuted—right here in this chair.”

“He’s nothing but a beast!” Hao Zhuang could not help but curse.

Feng Liang let out a self-mocking laugh and turned to Yan Yu. “Yan Yu, are our corpses enough to get Yang Yongsheng the death penalty?”

Yan Yu nodded slowly. “More than enough. Enough to sentence this monster ten times over.”

It was the most tragic story Yan Yu had encountered in his eighteen years of life.

Some crimes can only be proven by the bodies of their victims.

“You can take photos and call the police. I’ll wait for you upstairs,” Feng Liang said, and climbed out of the basement.

—

“B-boss, let’s call the police right now. This place is too horrifying,” the fat man stammered.

“You two go up first. I’ll join you soon.”

Yan Yu had noticed that there was an office desk in the basement as well. He was certain it held something he needed.

“Be careful, then,” the fat man and Hao Zhuang said nervously, hurrying upstairs.

Left alone among the corpses, Yan Yu sat in the office chair and opened the desk drawer.

Inside were a few account books, recording every source and destination of the money—proceeds from Yang Yongsheng’s deception of parents, and further evidence of his crimes for the prosecution.

Yan Yu continued to search the drawers.

Suddenly, he found a metal box, old and worn.

He opened it in silence, discovering several photographs and a folded file envelope inside.

His hands trembled as he picked up the photos. When he saw the familiar yet distant woman, he clenched his teeth.

In the picture, his mother lay on a hospital bed, her head covered in wires for electroshock therapy. Yang Yongsheng stood beside her, smiling as he operated the switch.

His mother—pregnant for nine months and due to give birth at any moment!

Apart from Yang Yongsheng, other figures appeared in the photo, their backs to the camera, facing Yan Yu’s mother.

“Mom... you really did come here.”

Yan Yu put away the photos and unfolded the file envelope.

It was empty. After a careful check, he focused on the cover.

[Patient Name: Tang Xinyi]

[Date: February 19, 2000]

[Signed by: Ren...]

The signature was scrawled so badly that Yan Yu could only make out the character “Ren.”