In the United States, a Sheriff is a local law enforcement official in charge of maintaining public order and enforcing the law.

They are typically elected by local residents, with duties that include maintaining public order.

Furthermore, the Sheriff is also the county’s Chief Law Enforcement Officer, responsible for public safety, as well as bailiff and correctional duties in their jurisdiction. This gives the Sheriff a great deal of power.

News of what happened at the docks quickly reached the Sheriff’s office on Saint Paul Island.

A white Pickup Truck arrived at the docks, and a balding, elderly man stepped out.

He wore a green uniform with a gun at his waist, striding through the crowd with a steady gait.

The old man’s eyes held a stern composure, as if he had weathered countless storms.

His arrival instantly silenced the bustling docks.

The crowd parted to let him through, their eyes glued to his every move.

The old man walked up to Feng Mountain and asked in a peculiar accent, "Can someone tell me what happened here?"

"Mr. Nick, this man is from... P-P-P..." The middle-aged crewman nodded at the old man and started to explain, mentioning Feng Mountain’s identity.

He suddenly forgot the tongue-twisting place name. After someone behind him whispered a reminder, he caught on and continued, "The Sheriff from Point Laya. He says Justice is a suspect in a fatal shooting from two years ago."

"Mr. Nick, I didn’t kill anyone! They must be gang members!" Justice shouted, struggling.

The old man ignored him, turning his gaze to Feng Mountain and then to the gun-wielding Nash and Wawa. "Fellas, put your guns down. Saint Paul Island is a safe place. No one’s going to hurt you."

Feng Mountain raised a hand. Nash and Wawa lowered their AR-15s and moved behind Feng Mountain, but they kept their hands on their weapons, fingers on the triggers.

The old man’s expression was composed. "Sheriff," he said, "do you have any evidence that Justice is a murderer?"

’Evidence?’

’The divination *is* the evidence.’

’But I’m not about to tell you that.’

Feng Mountain shrugged, spreading his hands.

"Not at the moment. But if you can provide me with a room, I’m confident I can find the evidence very soon. I won’t be resorting to torture to get a confession, of course. Just a simple chat. And you’re welcome to observe."

"And if you can’t?" A sharp glint appeared in the old man’s eyes.

Feng Mountain met his gaze without fear, his tone firm and confident. "I’ll find it. I have to."

The old man narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Feng Mountain. He saw the young man’s tenacity and felt a burgeoning sense of admiration.

"Alright, come with me. I’ll give you three hours. If you don’t get anything out of him, you’ll have to compensate Justice personally."

With that said, the old man turned and headed for his Pickup Truck.

A small smile played on Feng Mountain’s lips. He reached out and grabbed Justice by the neck as if he were a scrawny chicken. Justice, having just been freed, was about to resist when he felt an immense pressure on the back of his neck. His body went limp, all strength draining away as if he’d lost control.

"No, no! Let go of me! What did you do to me, you Demon!?" Justice screamed in terror.

Curiosity piqued, the other people on the docks were eager to see how Feng Mountain would interrogate Justice. They headed for the Sheriff’s office in twos and threes.

The Saint Paul Island Sheriff’s office was a simple wooden cabin.

Aside from the Sheriff’s main office, there was only one other semi-enclosed room containing a long, vinyl-upholstered bench and a square table. It looked like a sobering room, probably a place for drunks to sleep it off.

Feng Mountain dragged Justice into the room, tossed him onto the long bench, and casually placed the Gun of Kindness on the table.

The moment the grip on his neck released, Justice found he could move his limbs again. He was about to stand up when he heard Feng Mountain’s chilling warning.

"I’d advise you to sit down and answer a few questions. Otherwise, I’ll shoot you on the spot for resisting arrest and attempting to disarm an officer. Feel free to try me."

Any thought of resistance vanished, chilled out of him by a warning as biting as the wind off the Bering Sea. He was wide awake now.

’He knew, deep down, that this man would do exactly as he said.’

"You... ask your questions. I have the right not to answer. I know my Miranda rights, so don’t try to scare me!"

The Miranda warning.

It’s a line often heard in Hong Kong cop dramas and American blockbusters: "You are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law." This is the Miranda warning.

The Miranda warning refers to the notification police are required to give criminal suspects before interrogation.

Specifically, before any questioning, police must inform suspects of their legal rights, including the right to remain silent, the right to refuse to answer questions, and the right to an attorney.

Feng Mountain let out a cold laugh. ’If he had nothing to hide, why would he bring up his Miranda rights so quickly?’

"Wawa, give me the bullet."

Wawa, who was standing outside the room, immediately pulled out an animal-hide pouch, entered, and handed it to Feng Mountain, shooting Justice a vicious glare.

’Why even bother with a trial for this piece of trash? He should just be thrown into the Ice Sea to drown.’

Sheriff Nick stood by the window of the sobering room, arms crossed. Along with him were residents of Saint Paul Island and other crewmen—a dozen pairs of eyes, all fixed on the scene inside. Outside the Sheriff’s office, a large crowd of residents, fishermen, and workers had gathered after hearing the news.

After all, it had been a long time since Saint Paul Island had a murder case. The usual trouble was just drunken brawls. They’d fight, sober up, be friends again, and then repeat the cycle of drinking and fighting.

Feng Mountain saw that Justice had quieted down.

He opened the animal-hide pouch and took out a bloodstained bullet.

He held it out in front of Justice.

"Recognize this bullet?"

"I don’t." Justice shook his head adamantly. ’Only an idiot who’d been smacked by a whale’s tail would admit to that.’

Oh!

Feng Mountain’s lips curled into a slight smile as he continued to hold the bullet. "Take a good look. A close look. Maybe you left a clue on it."

’A clue?’

’Did you find your Sheriff’s badge on the ground or something?’

’Doesn’t he know that the high temperatures from firing a bullet would destroy any trace evidence on it?’

’Not unless you find the gun, and too bad for you, I already threw it into the Bering Sea.’

’And here I was, all worked up. I can’t believe the big piece of evidence was just a bullet.’

Justice grinned, letting his gaze fall on the bullet and pretending to examine it seriously.

But in the next moment...

The dried bloodstain on the bullet seemed to shift.

Justice’s smile froze on his face. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. The bullet was just a bullet, the stain just a stain. He was about to let out a sigh of relief when his eyes suddenly shot wide open.

The bloodstain on the bullet came to life, coalescing into a single drop that fell to the floor.

The droplet then expanded into a pool of blood, from which a red, human-like figure slowly rose, stretching its limbs and twisting its torso.

The crimson color slowly faded, revealing a familiar face.

’It was the Inuit man he had shot and killed.’

’How is he alive?!’

’God!!’

’Demon!!’

Justice screamed wildly, trying to get the attention of the people outside, but when he looked around, he found he was all alone in the room.

The Indigenous Sheriff was gone. Mr. Nick was gone. The Crabbing Boat crewmen were gone. The island residents were gone. There was nothing.

Cold sweat instantly beaded on his skin.

Justice’s heart hammered like a drum, and fear felt like an invisible hand closing around his throat.

"You’re the one who killed me?"

The voice echoed through the room, striking Justice’s soul like a clap of thunder.

Justice’s body convulsed as he stared in terror at the Inuit man before him.

The accusation struck him like a heavy hammer, blow after blow against his conscience.

Justice opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

His throat felt clogged, and endless terror was all that filled his mind.

And then.

The Inuit man twisted his body. His legs melted together, forming a walrus’s tail. His torso bloated into that of a walrus, leaving only his human head. From the corners of his mouth, two thick, white tusks of Walrus Ivory slowly emerged.

’Walrus People??’

Justice trembled all over, terrified. He wanted to run, but he found himself glued to the bench, his limbs refusing to obey.

The Walrus Person’s eyes glowed with a strange red light as it slowly approached. The heavy thud of its movements echoed through the room, each one landing like a hammer blow on Justice’s heart.

When the Walrus Person was right in front of him, Justice thought he could smell seawater and blood.

The combined stench hit him full in the face, making his stomach churn.

Fear washed over him like a tidal wave, and his body trembled uncontrollably.

The next moment.

A tearing sensation shot through his legs.

The Walrus Person pierced his thighs with its thick Walrus Ivory tusks. Blood gushed from the wounds, just as it had when he’d poached walruses in Point Laya, piercing their bodies with a sharp Long Spear. Now he was tasting that same pain.

Justice’s consciousness began to fade. The phantoms of the walruses he had poached appeared before his eyes.

The sound of chewing reached his ears. Justice looked down and saw the walrus—with the Inuit’s head—gnawing on his feet.

The sight of his own flesh and bone was seared into his vision.

The pain was indescribable.

Justice wanted to struggle, to scream, but he had no strength left.

He could only watch as the grotesque creature devoured his body, his heart filling with despair and regret.

Pain washed over him in wave after wave, and his consciousness slowly sank into the agony.

He seemed to see all the sins he had ever committed.

The Inuit man he had killed, and all those walruses.

...

Outside the sobering room.

Sheriff Nick, the Crabbing Boat crewmen, and the island residents watched, puzzled. Feng Mountain had asked only one question and then fallen silent. All eyes were on Justice, who was still inside the room.

Justice, however, was drenched in sweat. His gaze was vacant, his face ashen, and his body trembled slightly, as if he were trapped in some bottomless terror.

The onlookers exchanged confused glances, wondering what on earth was happening to Justice.

They looked to Feng Mountain for an answer, but his expression remained placid and unreadable.

A tense, mysterious atmosphere enveloped the entire room.

An inexplicable sense of unease settled over everyone.

A sea breeze drifted gently through the window, bringing a slight chill that did nothing to ease the tension in the air.

Just then, Feng Mountain raised his hand and snapped his fingers.

The sharp sound echoed in the room, like a bolt of Lightning cutting through the oppressive tension.

Justice’s eyes flew open, and he began screaming like a madman.

"I killed the Inuit man! I was the one who shot him! Don’t eat me!!"

...