Chapter 65: He Must Be a Expert

At that moment, Nancy walked over, holding another laptop.

I glanced at the psychology forum interface and guessed, "This must be Lawrence's computer! Nancy, can you check if there's anything suspicious on it?"

Nancy looked at the screen and nodded. "Sure thing."

She sat down in front of the computer and started typing. After a while, she said triumphantly, "There's an encrypted folder here. The password is pretty complex. I'll need some time to crack it, but it shouldn't take too long."

"Alright, we'll wait," I replied.

A few minutes later, I saw a new folder appear on the screen. Its icon looked like a locked box.

Nancy had already cracked the outer shell and was now trying to access the core.

"This folder's encryption is pretty special. It uses multiple layers, including AES-256, SHA-3 hashing, and a custom key generation algorithm. He must be an expert."

Nancy first performed a brute-force attack on the AES-256 encryption, then moved on to cracking the SHA-3 hash. She used rainbow tables to quickly match the hash values.

The custom key generation algorithm was more troublesome. She needed to reverse-engineer the key generation method, a task requiring patience and precision. Any mistake could ruin everything. 

She started with fuzz testing, using various random data combinations to attempt decryption, then moved on to cryptographic analysis, studying the mathematical patterns of the key generation. 

She discovered that the key was generated using the user's birthday, phone number, and other personal information through a complex mathematical formula.

"The password is cracked. I'm trying to access the core now."

A progress bar appeared on the screen, moving slowly forward. With each increment, my heart pounded harder. My palms were sweaty. I had a feeling that something shocking was hidden inside.

Finally, the progress bar reached 100%. The folder was successfully opened.

Inside were numerous video files.

Nancy opened one of the videos, and the scene immediately made me feel nauseous.

It was a video of a male student being tortured.

In the video, he was naked and tied to a chair, looking like a skinned beast, covered in wounds. Whip marks crisscrossed his body, the flesh torn and bloody, resembling crimson flowers blooming in hell.

His mouth was wide open, but it seemed like his throat was constricted, leaving only desperate whimpers struggling out. His eyes bulged, bloodshot, as if they would burst from their sockets at any moment. It was the epitome of fear, like a drowning fish struggling in vain.

Tears mixed with snot ran down his face, forming murky rivulets. He twisted his body, struggling futilely. The ropes cut into his flesh, tightly binding his wrists and ankles like bloodthirsty pythons.

I fought the urge to vomit, staring intently at the screen. The video was like a powerful magnet, holding my gaze. I knew that worse was yet to come.

Nancy clicked on another video, showing a scene of multiple people being tortured, a vision of hell on earth.

A woman's lower body had been severed at the waist, her intestines dragging on the ground, mixed with blood, like a filthy rag. Blood flowed from her broken spine, pooling into a small puddle. Her genitals were twisted into a grotesque shape.

Another man's head was half-severed, brain matter spilling from the cracked skull, splattering the walls in a twisted abstract painting. Half of his face was distorted and deformed.

The youngest girl had half her skull chopped off, blood and brain matter splattering the walls. The edge of her skull was sharp as a knife, exuding a suffocating stench of blood. Her half-open mouth revealed a few blood-stained teeth, like a horrifying sculpture.

My temples throbbed, and I felt my blood boiling.

Lawrence, this monster in human skin, was worse than a beast!

I suppressed the churning in my stomach, my fingers trembling as I clicked on the next video.

The images on the screen were like sharp blades, stabbing into my heart.

I saw Ralph. He was tied to a chair, completely naked, his body covered in whip marks and burns. Some areas were split open, revealing the bloody muscle beneath, like chewed-up meat, still turning outward. Other areas bore the blackened marks of cigarette burns.

His mouth and eyes were split open, like wounds cut by a blade, grotesque and twisted. His body was covered in blood and grime, his hair matted to his face like a clump of discarded grass.

His face was filled with pain and despair. His mouth was open, but no sound came out, only painful, animalistic howls, his throat producing hoarse sounds.