Chapter 450 - - SERIAL KILLER - pt. 1 Wuming Special (Can Skip)

Wuming was crouched on the tip of an old apartment. He had been staying there for almost an hour already. His knees were actually getting cramps. He impatiently tapped on the ledge as his eyes quickly scanned the place.

Still nothing.

Just around what hour was that moron going to strike?

He would not be impatient if not for the fact that he had been trying to find this person for the past week. A week and still not a f--ing shadow.

"Goddamanit," he cursed aloud. 

He checked his watch. Shouldn't he be out by now?

Wuming could only sigh as he waited. This was what he was being paid to do. To wait. To keep his eyes open.

And to keep this city safe.

He almost burst out laughing from his own joke.

But he would not deny it. At times like this, he thought that he was living his superhero dreams. You know, the kind of superhero that stays up all night to watch over the sleeping people of the metro and then by day he was just an ordinary man—a snubby billionaire perhaps… or a high school student.

He was on the hunt for a certain serial killer.

Wuming stood over the ledge. Even after years and years of training, his stomach still dipped a little at heights. His feet were steady as he walked on the foot-wide concrete. One foot went front the other, lightly stepping to the other corner of the rooftop.

This serial killer was kind of hard to pinpoint. The main reason being his victims being picked at random. No age, no gender, no specific profession. It was like he would step out of the house and the first person that he would encounter would get the red note of death.

For a week, there had been no deaths. But before that, there had been around a dozen already. This city already established a curfew. The only ones allowed out were the people who were getting back from work and those who had to make an emergency trip to the supermarket and the pharmacy.

Everybody else had to stay home.

The streets were quiet and it was honestly making Wuming a little lonely. After months of being in the busy and loud Chengshi, and being surrounded by his family and Addison… it was like he needed to get used to being alone again.

But the thing was, he didn't want to anymore. 

Wuming shook his head. This was not the right time to be thinking about emotional things. He needed to amp his body. This might be THE night.

Continuing on the serial killer… they knew it was a serial killer because before these dozen deaths, there had been no murder cases in this part of town for the past thirty or so years. Then suddenly everything started. Dead bodies everywhere. From what Wuming could gather, according to the forensics team, the killer was using heavy metal objects such as wrenches, hammers, and once a sledgehammer.

If you're going to ask Wuming, he would tell you that a serial killer should not happen at this day and age. Hell, they were in the age of technology. People got cameras everywhere. How was it that killers were running free?

But then again, he was up there on the ledge after countless killing contracts.

Wuming had been keeping an eye on every person that walked on the streets. They looked like ants from his standpoint. He was waiting for someone to get pulled on a corner and that was when he would make his move.

He moved around the rooftop, carefully tiptoeing from one end to another. This is getting boring, he thought. How was he supposed to catch the killer if there would be no kills happening?

Now, if you're going to ask who hired Wuming to do this job… well, let's just say that there was a certain concerned rich citizen who got the news and wanted to end this nightmare in this little town.

There were no deadlines given, but he had to make sure that the killer would not have another victim. And that the killer would be put to a stop.

"Ah!" he clutched his head as he groaned. "This is f.u.c.k.i.n.g nuts."

He tilted his head to the heavens and looked up the sparkling stars. They had been his company for the last seven days. He badly wanted to go home. But he had to finish the job.

"That's it," he said. "I'm going in."

He was tired of just watching from rooftop to rooftop. Where he had been staying was a hotspot for the killer. More than half of the killings had happen within a mile of that area. Wuming had to applaud the killer's guts for that.

Wuming, starving for some adrenaline, refused to take the stairs and instead used the rickety fire exit. It was rusted and—though he tried not to make a lot of noise—it creaked with every step that he took. It ended on the third floor of the building and he slid down a grimy tube until he reached the ground with a soft thud.

The small high that it gave him was almost a grain of sand in a beach.

He fixed his jacket and pocketed his hands. He started walking.

Wouldn't it be so exciting?

He started to grin.

Wouldn't it be so exciting if the killer saw him and decided that he would be the next target? Wuming could only imagine how the killer would come at him. Would he approach first, or go for the blow immediately?

What he could not imagine was the felling of the people when they come across somebody while they were walking down the street, probably tired from work, suspecting that it was the serial killer. Wuming could almost feel their fear in his own blood, making it rush.

He lazily grinned at the night.

Oh, just so he try to come at me.