Chapter 1126: The True Culprit Revealed (Part 3)

He treated hitting people with his car like some kind of game.

Like a kid whose mind stopped growing around ten years old, with zero sense of society.

Running someone down didn’t cause him any panic at all.

If someone was behind him, tricking him that hitting Aiden Shaw was just a game, and promising him a reward afterward.

That would be even more convincing.

But to make a madman obey, anyone who can direct this lunatic either lures him by catching his interest, or is someone closest to him.

All of this was Tiana Thorne’s speculation.

Staring at the madman who was still convulsing, with no basic awareness, living in his own world all day long.

She didn’t know what his inner world was like, whether he even understood what suffering was.

But right now he was in the throes of an epileptic seizure, face ashen, that kind of extreme contortion—any normal person watching would feel a stab of crushing inferiority and fear.

Tiana sat on a chair beside him, waiting for the madman to wake up.

“Miss, he doesn’t have local nationality. We found a discarded plane ticket on him.”

The flight route was the same as theirs, so he might have just gone abroad recently.

He could also be tied to the group that framed her father.

And what role exactly did this madman play.

A pawn?

“If we can’t get anything out of him, then we can only let him go,” Tiana said.

Jesse Rivers was stunned: “Miss, we finally managed to find…”

“Let him go. He’s mentally ill. What he says isn’t necessarily true.”

Of course she wasn’t stupid—clearly he was the one who did it, grabbing one, you grab a pair.

Let out more line to catch a bigger fish; she fully intended to see who was really behind all this.

Tiana spoke with firm resolve, and Jesse could only do as she said. Once the madman came around, they released him.

A few hours later, the madman woke up.

His hands weren’t tied, his feet weren’t bound, and there was no one around him.

He looked at his free hands, grinned, even dug at his nose with a finger, and hopped out of the steel factory like nothing had happened.

His mind might be muddled, but he seemed to know the way—he went back the same way he had come.

Walking along, he picked the wildflowers by the roadside.

With a big armful of flowers in his hands, a smile spread across his face.

It was the most genuine smile a mental patient could give.

After twisting and turning through side streets, the madman finally reached a sidewalk where there were pedestrians passing by.

Then, from the wide sidewalk, he turned a corner and headed onto a much narrower road.

The road was lined with old buildings, packed tightly in a row, all run-down; it looked like the old part of town.

Or workers’ housing.

When you entered a place like this, there would be a kind of boundary, an archway.

And beside the archway stood a cluster of trash bins.

It was as if no one had collected the garbage in ages; trash was piled up, spilling out of the bins, and the ground around them was heaped with stinking waste.

Mosquitoes swarmed in the air, making everything feel filthy and chaotic.

The madman hugged his bunch of wildflowers and walked into the slum.

Just as he passed by, a basin of dirty water was dumped toward his feet.

The woman of the house shot him a look of disgust and cursed, “Nutcase, stop wandering around in front of my door. You’re bad luck!”

The madman was clearly a bit frightened. He cradled the bouquet carefully, lowered his head, and shuffled past her doorway.

The woman snorted, then picked up her basin and went back into her tiny, sparrow-sized home.

The people here all seemed to know the madman; every one of them looked at him with contempt and disdain, as if just saying one more word to him would dirty them.

And the madman was timid and weak, his mind stuck at the level of a ten-year-old, looking a bit vacant, trembling all over—quite different from the one who’d rammed Aiden Shaw.

Only when he was off the road and no one was around to curse him did he straighten up properly and walk on.