It was a little past nine in the evening. At this time, many shops on the street had already closed for the night. Merck and Dean were sitting on the steps, talking.

Merck was a senior agent. Dean wasn't clear on Merck's capabilities, but the man's storytelling ability was genuinely impressive.

"In this era of the United States," Merck began, "material wealth is abundant, but social strata are rigid, and the pursuit of spirit is hollow. Many young people have all sorts of bizarre habits: objectophilia, homosexuality, pica. And then there are even more perverse desires: cannibalism and the wish to be consumed! The Cannibal Demon is one such person.

He first appeared on the internet. The video showed a crude dining table. On the table lay a fresh, still-bleeding arm. The Cannibal Demon, knife and fork in hand, dined before the camera with gentlemanly elegance. In just over ten minutes, he had eaten half of the arm before ending the video.

Some thought it was just a clown's performance. Others believed it was a prank. But there were also some who, watching him savor human flesh bit by bit, felt a strange yearning. They didn't want to eat; they wanted to be eaten—to be consumed piece by piece by the Cannibal Demon, elegantly, as if cherished.

Every three days, the Cannibal Demon would post a video of himself enjoying a 'fine meal.' Sometimes it was a hand, other times a foot, or a torso. This continued until he presented a woman's head... Someone recognized the woman as a female student who had recently gone missing. Only then was it confirmed that the items in the videos weren't food props but actual human body parts!

The police quickly found his residence through his IP address. But it was nothing more than a deserted house. And in the basement where the videos were filmed, he had left a message."

Merck paused at this point, quite scoundrelly, took out a cigarette, and looked at Dean as if expecting him to light it. After a brief pause, Merck realized the man before him wasn't his protégé but a hot-tempered Chief Inspector.

He asked awkwardly, "Chief Inspector Dean, do you have a light?"

Dean, annoyed by this bastard stalling mid-story, irritably pulled out his lighter. "Spit it out. What message did he leave?"

After lighting the cigarette and taking a deep drag, Merck's eyes glazed over as he stared into the darkness. He continued his story of the Cannibal Demon in a hollow voice, his words mingling with the smoke. "It's a message that still sends chills down my spine whenever I recall it."

"'Cold-bloodedness stems from transcendence! When humans transcended monkeys, they no longer sympathized with the monkeys' deaths. Therefore, humans could eat monkeys. When a creature transcends humans and consumes them, what would humans call this creature? Good evening, little snacks. You may call me—the Demon!'"

Merck took another deep drag from his cigarette and looked at Dean. "In him, I saw elegance and cruelty, nobility and decadence. But even now, I still don't understand the meaning of the message he left."

"He's spreading an ideology!" Dean said calmly. "He likens himself to a Demon who has transcended humanity, thus justifying his consumption of humans. If anyone accepts his ideology, they're doomed. It's also how he lures his 'food'."

This whole act seems incredibly pretentious, Dean thought. But in essence, it's no different from religious brainwashing or cult fundraising. In his past life, Dean had encountered so-called 'female Bodhisattvas' in small Southeast Asian countries who practiced 'corporeal charity.' These women had been brainwashed from childhood about the greatness of their deities and the profound, sacred meaning of this charity. Before globalization, they were merely tools for the monks to vent their desires. But after globalization, these liberated women not only continued their 'charity' but also raised the children born from such encounters to become the next generation of 'female Bodhisattvas.' Their worldviews were completely warped. To them, corporeal charity was a spiritual practice, not promiscuity. Once one's fundamental values are twisted, any madness can seem normal. Like offering oneself to a Demon.

After listening to Merck's description, Dean realized that the Cannibal Demon was doing just that.

He was using the internet to spread his twisted 'faith,' attracting a following of spiritually empty and numb individuals who came to worship him, believing his acts to be somehow 'sacred.' Once that seed of thought was planted, their tragic end was inevitable. Because a thought is the fastest-growing thing in the world...

After listening to Dean's explanation, Merck gave a thumbs-up. "Your psychological analysis is impressive. That's exactly what the Cannibal Demon does."

He sighed. "Ever since we found the place he used for filming, we've lost all trace of him. We initially thought he'd fled the area. But soon after, the Cannibal Cult appeared online. Its members were all followers and worshippers the Cannibal Demon had attracted through his videos. Some envied his power and twisted charisma. Others worshipped his philosophy. A small minority even believed that being eaten by him was a sacred and grand affair; they hoped the Cannibal Demon would consume their flesh to help them escape this filthy world. By the time we caught on, it was too late. He had a plentiful food supply and could accurately identify our bait. It wasn't until our colleagues in the Cybersecurity Investigation Department managed to identify a few of his core followers that we almost caught him. But during the operation... something went wrong."

"What about his behavioral patterns and your tracking methods?" Dean asked, gesturing towards a distant trash can. "Fresh human flesh and carrion are completely different. If he's been forced to eat carrion, it means he doesn't dare hunt the living anymore. That must be due to your efforts."

Merck nodded. "Yes, I must admit, you're truly excellent. You hit the nail on the head. The Cannibal Demon has a peculiar way of eating. He likes to treat parts of the body like a steak, sprinkling them with sage and salt before carving and consuming them. So, normally, the remains we find rarely show teeth marks. They're mostly rotting corpses he's discarded. He prefers fresh 'ingredients.' So, after luring his 'food' to his lair, the Cannibal Demon usually keeps them captive and savors them slowly. During that process, all ten out of ten so-called devotees end up regretting it. But apart from one lucky soul, no one has escaped. The reason we've been able to continuously track and force the Cannibal Demon to flee is because, thanks to this survivor, we've identified his physical appearance. Now, if he dares show his face, we have a high chance of identifying and apprehending him! But miraculously, he seems to anticipate our methods. The Cannibal Demon remained on the run, somehow suppressing his cannibalistic urges, until today, when we received your call and learned he'd started scavenging carrion."

After Merck finished, Dean shook his head in disappointment. "Merck, I'm certain you're mistaken. The Cannibal Demon hasn't suppressed his urges. He has devotees willingly offering themselves to him; you just aren't aware of it. The internet connects the entire United States. He likely has followers in Los Angeles providing cover and support. Otherwise, he wouldn't have come here."

Merck looked somewhat embarrassed and displeased by Dean's assessment, yet a flicker of doubt also crossed his mind. Their brief exchange had already convinced him of Dean's sharp investigative mind.

"You mean the severed hand wasn't the Cannibal Demon's work?" Merck asked tentatively.

Dean nodded confidently. "Someone who needs seasoning for human flesh wouldn't scavenge carrion! Psychopaths like him are typically extremely narcissistic and egocentric, with incredibly strong principles. He sees himself as a Demon superior to humans and has looked down on your pursuit from day one. My psychological profile suggests the severed arm found today is either the work of a copycat, or another cannibalistic psychopath has emerged, or..."

Dean grinned at Merck. "...or he thinks you're so incompetent that he's decided to give you some clues himself—to make the game more amusing and build his own legend!"

After all, legends need grand deeds to be recounted, Dean mused. That's how he'll get more people to worship him.

Dean relished this kind of opponent. Criminals like this usually offered a high amount of Experience Points!

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