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At the same time, in Yacheng City.

Although it was way past midnight, the lights on the Special Department floor of the National Civil Security Bureau building were still on, signaling yet another sleepless night. 

In the Chief's office, Song Juwei was leaning back in his seat while massaging his temple, deep creases forming between his brows. His complexion was haggard and his eyebags seemed deep enough to reach his cheeks. The air was thick with the scent of tobacco, originated from the pile of cigarette butts in the ashtray. 

A few days ago, the entire city was abruptly thrown into chaos by a string of murders that occurred across the districts, and further investigations revealed that it was most likely done by the same person.