When I first arrived in Jiangcheng, the police brought me a bizarre case: a wealthy man had died horribly, his body covered in countless tiny puncture marks.
I picked up my compass. The needle spun wildly, unable to point in any direction.
That night, the victim’s belongings suddenly appeared in my room: an ancient cloth doll embroidered with blood-red incantations.
The doll blinked, then spoke to me in the wealthy man’s voice: “You’re next.”
