Chapter Sixteen: Resonance of Perception

In the hospital, upon hearing that Mulan had encountered that terrifying criminal, Leo suddenly became agitated, startling everyone else in the ward.
"You ran into that guy?"
Mulan nodded solemnly.
"His skills are truly frightening. No wonder you all suffered such severe injuries, and his mental state is highly unstable. He’s an extremely dangerous individual. The attack on me was clearly premeditated—he came specifically for you. Perhaps he had been lurking outside the hospital all along!"
Several police officers nearby felt a chill run down their spines at these words, the thought that this horrifying figure might have been watching them from outside the hospital causing goosebumps to rise. They grew increasingly tense, glancing nervously at their surroundings and the door to the ward.
Leo paused, then immediately responded, "Are you hurt?"
In fact, upon hearing that Mulan had faced that ruthless criminal, old Buck was already anxiously examining Mulan from head to toe, and some officers were about to call for a doctor.
Mulan shook his head, a trace of lingering fear on his face.
"The confrontation was extremely dangerous, but I wasn’t injured. The Valentine Police Department should mobilize all its resources to arrest or execute him. Now is your best chance—I’m certain he’s wounded, his mobility and ability to hide severely compromised!"
As he spoke, Mulan pulled from his pocket the murder weapon wrapped in a handkerchief. Once the handkerchief was removed, a slightly twisted boning knife was revealed, its blade scored with bullet marks and nicks that spoke of how harrowing the brief clash had been.
Leo looked at Mulan differently now; the other officers' expressions mirrored his, while old Buck breathed a sigh of relief, though worry lingered in his eyes.
"We’ll definitely catch him!"
...
The stove at home still needed to be extinguished, but this time Mulan didn’t go back alone. Leo insisted on assigning a police officer to accompany him, reasoning that it was too dangerous for Mulan to be alone and some protection would be wise.
Yet in truth, it was unclear who was protecting whom—the officer was so tense, his right hand pressed to his holster, fingers gripping the handle of his gun. Even when his hat was blown away by the wind, he showed no inclination to retrieve it.
When the two arrived at Mulan’s house, the officer followed Mulan closely into the kitchen, where the stove fire still burned, lending the room a cozy warmth.
The officer rubbed his right hand, stiff from clutching his gun. Meanwhile, as Mulan shut off the stove, he glanced at the table and then at the cane he’d brought with him. He was certain his memory hadn’t failed him; there could only be one explanation—some supernatural force closely associated with him had caused the cane to suddenly appear at his side.

Mulan’s thoughts turned once more to the Wheel of Light—was it his golden finger, or perhaps some kind of supernatural power unique to this world?
"Mulan, do you think perhaps those shots you fired killed him?"
Mulan turned to look at the officer, who seemed nervous once again, possibly letting his imagination run wild. His gaze kept flickering to the dark space atop the stairs and sweeping over the windows.
Better to be vigilant than complacent, Mulan thought.
"He didn’t die—I saw him escape with my own eyes. His speed didn’t suggest a mortal wound."
As he spoke, Mulan withdrew three bullets from the inside pocket of his trench coat. He placed one on the spot where his cane had previously rested on the table, another on the cabinet, and the third in the pocket of a coat hanging at the entrance.
"What are you doing? Oh, I see—you’re preparing for a potential indoor fight, so you’ll always have a crucial bullet to reload in an extreme situation!"
"Officer Peter, you’re exactly right!"
Mulan smiled at the officer, affirming his somewhat unconventional speculation. He lifted his cane, hooked his hat from the rack, and put it on.
"Alright, let’s go."
"Back to the hospital?"
"No, to the police station. Officer Peter, I suddenly think you might be right. That lunatic was willing to kill Leo’s younger brother for a mere scratch during Leo’s pursuit—after our confrontation, he surely hates me with a passion. He could be lying in wait anywhere to ambush me. The sooner Valentine’s officers act, the better."
The battlefield had brought Mulan immense danger and stimulation. Life had grown peaceful since his retirement, but insomnia and hallucinations continued to plague him. Ironically, that recent perilous encounter had given him a feeling he hadn’t experienced in a long time.
Did Mulan have mental issues? Absolutely not—or so he believed. Perhaps he simply had a penchant for challenge deep within.
The original missing persons case had drawn attention because one of the victims was from the Viscount’s family, prompting immense pressure from them and other nobles on the police department. After investigating the basement, it was generally concluded that all the missing children had perished.
This put even greater pressure on Valentine’s detectives and inspectors. Leo and his team had failed to capture the suspect, and many were injured. The commotion was considerable, with numerous witnesses; the facts of the case could hardly be concealed, and it wouldn’t be surprising if the Valentine Daily featured the story prominently the next day.
Just as they were fretting, they suddenly received new information from Mulan and Officer Peter. After a brief confirmation, they didn’t hesitate: on one hand, they agreed to Mulan’s request and increased police protection at the hospital; on the other, the chief inspector immediately ordered another detective to lead several officers, lanterns in hand, to return to the scene with Mulan.
The chief didn’t expect to apprehend the criminal that night, but at least wanted to gather more solid information—crucial for dealing with reporters or, perhaps, to preemptively offer some good news after the bad to the press.

They first located the spot where Mulan and the assailant had clashed at close quarters. Then, in pairs, the officers braved the wind, lanterns in hand, to search the surrounding area carefully.
"Over here, come quickly!"
In a narrow alley, two officers called out to the others.
Mulan and the officers hurried over. In the lantern light, they discovered bloodstains on the ground and walls.
"He really is wounded!"
The detective crouched to examine the wall and floor, then followed the trail of blood droplets.
"It appears he fled here after fighting you and hid for quite some time—probably only left after confirming you’d gone."
The officers instinctively looked to Mulan; the detective’s words made one thing clear: the depraved, terrifying man was deeply afraid of Mr. Jonest.
While Mr. Jonest was armed, so were the dozen officers who had previously cornered the suspect in the basement. And yet, the outcome was vastly different.
Mulan crouched as well, compelled by a certain intuition. He mimicked the detective and gently touched the bloodstains.
Suddenly, a chaos of sensations swept through his mind; he could almost smell something strange, his spirit subtly trembling as another, extraordinary sense opened within him.
The detective straightened and gave a command with a wave of his hand.
"Follow the blood trail!"
The officers, emboldened, followed the traces, but soon lost the trail—after all, the criminal wouldn’t allow himself to bleed endlessly.
Still, the police achieved their goal: confirming the suspect was injured, which could be credited to their efforts.
Mulan also accomplished his purpose: as he led the armed officers in pursuit, he repeatedly attempted to summon bullets along the way, with no success. Yet he made an unexpected discovery—when he touched the assailant’s blood, he felt a vivid sense of the other’s cruelty and madness.