Chapter 8: Shadow of the Ripper

The whispers in the reading room gradually coalesced into a oppressive hum.This latest murder case had stirred the deepest fears within every London citizen. Every word in the newspapers seemed to carry the scent of blood, irritating people's fragile nerves.

People whispered to each other, using exaggerated tones and rich imagination to add layer upon layer of mysterious and terrifying colors to this ghostly killer known as "Jack the Ripper."

"Have you heard? When the body was discovered, the internal organs were neatly arranged to one side, just like... just like a surgeon performing an operation!"

"My neighbor's cousin is a patrol officer at Scotland Yard. He says the killer only needed one cut to slit the throat—the force and precision were unbelievable!"

"This is definitely not something a human could do! He's a devil! A devil crawled up from hell!"

Lin Jie sat in the corner, maintaining an outwardly calm expression while his ears greedily captured these fragments of information mixed with facts and rumors like radar.

He quietly closed the diary and hid it back in his bosom, then picked up a used old newspaper as well, pretending to be like everyone else, focused on this sensational case.

He wasn't infected by the panic surrounding him.

After deducing that "Jack the Ripper" might be a UMA, his mindset had instead become exceptionally calm.

Fear stems from the unknown.

And now, at least for him, the greatest unknown had been mostly uncovered.

What remained was how to use rigorous logic and analysis to confirm and identify that "devil's" patterns of action from the known clues.

He carefully read through all the reports about the "Ripper" cases in the newspaper.

He discovered that both ordinary citizens and Scotland Yard focused their attention on the killer's cruel methods and sympathy for the victims, while overlooking some details he considered crucial.

First were the victims.

The newspapers uniformly called them "unfortunate women," mostly prostitutes living at the bottom of society.

But in Lin Jie's view, behind this identity label hid deeper common points: they were all homeless, living extremely irregular lives, frequently wandering alone through the dark alleys of the White Church District late at night.

This meant they were perfect "isolated targets"—disappearing for an hour or two, or even a day or two, wouldn't attract anyone's attention.

The UMA showed high "predatory efficiency" when selecting prey, tending to choose the easiest targets with the lowest risk.

Next were the murder weapons.

Everyone believed the killer used one or more sharp surgical knives or scalpels, because the wounds were extremely smooth and precise.

But Lin Jie recalled the depictions of various UMAs in that German diary—many creatures possessed innate claws, teeth, or bone spikes sharper than humanity's finest steel creations.

Equating "smooth wounds" directly with "human blades" was itself a cognitive bias.

What if the murder weapon was part of the UMA's body? This would explain why no murder weapons were ever found at the scenes, and no witnesses had seen the killer carrying a knife.

The most crucial point was the clue repeatedly mentioned yet dismissed by most as nonsense—the sulfur smell.

In 19th century London, the scents of coal smoke and industrial waste were everywhere, with occasional strange odors being unremarkable.

Therefore, Scotland Yard hadn't given this clue sufficient attention.

However, Lin Jie knew from that diary that many creatures from the inner world, by their very existence, would distort or affect the surrounding physical environment, producing strange lights, strange sounds, or "abnormal odors" like this one.

This sulfur smell likely wasn't environmental residue, but the UMA's own unavoidable "body odor"—the most direct evidence of its presence!

A revolutionary criminal profile began taking shape in Lin Jie's mind:

The killer, or "predator," was not human. It was a highly intelligent, stealthy UMA.

Its targets were specific human groups—those detached from mainstream societal protection, isolated and helpless individuals.

Its methods didn't involve tools, but utilized its natural "weapons," explaining the clean efficiency of its techniques and the pristine crime scenes.

Its actions were accompanied by specific physical phenomena (sulfur smell), which was the key beacon for tracking it.

It took the victims' internal organs not due to perverse psychology, but likely because it was simply engaging in the most primitive "feeding" activity.

Once this profile model was established, many seemingly unrelated clues instantly connected, forming a clear yet terrifying picture.

Lin Jie could imagine that monster lurking in London's thick fog, how it selected prey with a calm and efficient posture, then silently completed hunt after hunt.

He was so immersed in his thoughts that he completely failed to notice that at the reading room entrance, an old patrol officer wearing severely worn old police uniform, with tired yet sharp eyes, had been observing him for a long time.

This old patrol officer was named Arthur Weston, a veteran at Scotland Yard who, due to his stubborn character and poor political skills, had spent his entire career rotating through the most chaotic parishes like the White Church District.

The recent "Ripper" cases had placed enormous pressure on him.

Today he came here just to temporarily escape the suffocating atmosphere at headquarters.

He noticed Lin Jie because this Eastern man's state was far too unusual.

While everyone else was gasping in horror at the case's terror, only he remained quiet as a stone.

His gaze was focused and calm, his fingers lightly tracing across the newspaper, not as if reading sensational news, but more like studying a... research report.

This focus reminded Weston of those top detectives with hound-like intuition for cases he'd encountered in his youth.

Out of professional habit, Weston took a cup of cheap coffee and casually sat down in the seat next to Lin Jie.

"Another poor girl, isn't it?" Weston sighed, speaking up as if to himself, but actually probing.

Lin Jie snapped out of his contemplation. He looked up and saw that weather-beaten face and police uniform.

His heart tightened, but he maintained outward calm.

Fearing that saying more would risk mistakes, he simply imitated those around him, nodding, his face showing pity tinged with fear.

But Weston didn't let it go. "Everyone says this is the devil's work. Young man, what do you think?" His sharp gaze fixed tightly on Lin Jie's eyes.

Lin Jie remained silent for a moment.

This was an opportunity, and also a huge risk.

Getting involved with official authorities might expose him to I.A.R.C.'s scrutiny, but could also grant him access to intelligence ordinary people couldn't obtain.

He decided to gamble.

Instead of answering directly, he picked up a pen and wrote a single word in the newspaper's margin:

Sulphur.

Then, he tapped his finger on this word, pointed at the paragraph about "victims' internal organs being taken" in the newspaper, and finally made a simple "eating" gesture.

He offered no extra explanation, because he couldn't explain. But these simple actions and symbols strung together conveyed a meaning clear enough.

Weston's pupils contracted.

He froze, staring fixedly at that word on the newspaper and the calm face of this Eastern man before him.

As one of the few officers who had personally visited all crime scenes, he knew better than anyone how real that sulfur smell was, and had privately felt puzzled by the killer's "precise removal" of organs.

But connecting these two with "feeding"... this idea was simply too bold, too insane!

This had completely transcended traditional criminal psychology, entering a much older, darker realm.