Chapter 171: The Faceless Slave (1/2)

The fake Dali sat on the ground with his legs folded, crying.

“Are you crazy, Uncle Wang?” he yelled. “Xiaotao-jiejie, I’m really Dali!”

Xiaotao was confused and didn’t know who to believe. “Even if you suspect him, don’t you think shooting him is a bit reckless?”

“He’s got calluses on his hands,” replied Yuanchao simply.

His observation skill was indeed impressive. In fact, Yuanchao had suspected Dali to be fake the moment he saw Dali running after me, so when I gestured to him to subdue the fake Dali, he took action straight away.

Then, the fake Dali’s expressions changed, and his voice altered dramatically too.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Neither of you can escape now. Even your police uniform won’t protect you!”

“Who the hell are you?” asked Xiaotao.

“You have no business knowing that, Miss Officer,” sneered the fake Dali. “I’m warning you. Some cases should be left unsolved. We’ve given you warning. There is only one outcome for those who don’t listen to us—death!”

“You dare to threaten us?” snapped Xiaotao. “Look at yourself!”

“Where is the real Dali?” I asked.

The thin smile on the fake Dali’s face grew wider. “I don’t know. He should be alive now, but if I don’t go back alive tonight, then I can’t guarantee that he’ll stay that way for long…”

Yuanchao kicked the fake Dali squarely on his stomach. The man fell flat on his back. Yuanchao always had a fiery temper, and the thing that angered him the most was arrogant criminals. Then Yuanchao grasped the fake Dali’s face with his wide palm and tore off his skin.

We were all stunned for a few seconds when we saw the man’s true face. He was completely bald, had no eyebrows, and no nose. He only had two holes where his nostrils should be, just like Voldemort in Harry Potter. There were bloody scratches on his face because the mask was glued to his face.

Yuanchao examined the mask in his hand for a while, then handed it to me. I found that it was made of rubber. This gave me a sense of relief, because I had been worried that they had cut off Dali’s real face and stuck it on this man.

“So you are a faceless slave, correct?” I asked.

“How did you know?” the man was startled.

“The Song family has been dealing with criminals for thousands of years,” I replied. “We know you more than you know anything about us.”

No matter how much the times had changed, the many hidden occupations associated with the underworld did not change much. These occupations included fortune-tellers, prostitutes, mercenaries, and so on, and much of it was still to be seen today.

Faceless slaves were one of these occupations. They had to cut off their noses from the first day they joined the organization. They would wash their face with special medicine day and night, making their skin as soft as bread dough. That way, they could easily morph into anyone. They also practiced changing their voices so they could mimic other people’s voices.

Experienced faceless slaves only needed to massage their face in a certain way and they would immediately look like someone else. The fake Dali was evidently not at that stage yet; he still needed a rubber mask to look like Dali. Still, I had to admit that his voice sounded just like Dali’s, and his acting had been very convincing indeed.

Such people could easily act as assassins, but in most cases, they would be used to spy and gather intelligence instead. They were no different from shadows. They had no names and no identities of their own. They were often killed by their employers because they knew too much. Few people even knew of their existence.

“Where is Dali?” I asked again.

“As long as I’m safe, he’s safe,” he replied.