absurd deduction game.

Chapter 1122 Did I change my mind so quickly?
Amidst the clinking of glasses, a deadly scheme lurks beneath.

The Gallery of Lights is ablaze with lights tonight.

Inside the enormous arched glass windows, figures moved about, and soothing classical music flowed through the meticulously designed exhibition space, intertwining with the champagne bubbles and the fragrance of fine perfumes that filled the air, creating a luxurious and bustling atmosphere that seemed completely out of place with the recent gloom in Yolikof.

Mrs. Funer, arm in arm with Yu Xing, stepped gracefully into this bizarre and wonderful world.

She was undoubtedly one of the focal points of the evening. Her royal blue velvet dress accentuated her graceful figure, drawing everyone's attention with a gossipy interest in her husband's infidelity.

Yu Xing, who was standing next to her, naturally attracted everyone's attention.

"Look, who's that next to Mrs. Fernal?"

"A new face, but with a really good presence..."

"I heard it's her date tonight, an investigator? That makes sense. When a marriage is in trouble, only having a high-ranking investigator as a date can avoid gossip..."

"An investigator? Someone from Ideal Country? I've seen a few these days, but this one must be one of the newest arrivals, right?"

Quiet whispers rose around them like waves, only to quickly subside under polite smiles.

Countless curious, admiring, or inquisitive gazes fell upon Yu Xing, but he seemed oblivious, merely turning his head slightly and whispering to Mrs. Funer, "It's quite lively here."

Mrs. Funnel smiled and said, "It is quite lively. I expected that some people would gossip about my marital status. With Mr. Yu Xing by my side, I am more confident in facing these boring rumors."

Her gaze swept quickly across the room, and she said in a low voice, "It seems everyone has arrived."

Following her gaze, Yu Xing casually scanned the crowd in the exhibition hall. His senses, like an invisible spider web, quietly spread out and instantly caught several familiar auras.

Near the bar, an actor was holding a glass of champagne, chatting and laughing with an elderly man with gray hair and a lord's sash. Today, the man was wearing a dark purple velvet suit, his long hair was still tied back, his features were handsome, and his smile was gentle, as if he was born for this occasion.

He seemed to sense Yu Xing's gaze, raised his glass in a distant gesture of greeting, and a subtle, enigmatic smile played on his lips.

Yu Xing turned his eyes away unhappily.

On the other side, he saw Cang Nong, whom he had met once before in the old archives. This slightly awkward young man was wearing a waiter's uniform that was a bit tight and didn't seem to fit him well. He was carrying a tray full of wine glasses and moving among the guests, but his eyes were alert as he looked around. He had obviously sneaked in as a staff member.

When he saw Yu Xing, his eyes lit up slightly, and he quickly blinked as a greeting.

Near the inner part of the exhibition hall, in front of a huge abstract painting, Qu Xianqing was standing quietly.

She was still wearing that sharp pantsuit, with a sophisticated black trench coat over it, standing out from the ladies around her in their swaying skirts, yet exuding a cool and aloof aura.

Standing next to her was a middle-aged man dressed in a church deacon's robe, who appeared to be there as a representative of the church.

Qu Xianqing also saw Yu Xing. Their eyes met briefly in the air, and they nodded slightly.

Besides them, Yu Xing also sensed several other auras belonging to the diviners, some strong and some weak, scattered throughout the exhibition hall. Some were disguised as guests, while others seemed to be bodyguards of certain powerful figures.

A rough estimate suggests that there were more than a dozen people involved in the deductions at this art exhibition.

It seems that this so-called art feast has long been seen by those in the know as a potential hunting ground for valuable contributions or a source of clues.

“Come, Mr. Yu Xing, let me introduce you to some friends,” Mrs. Funel said softly, leading Yu Xing to the center of the crowd.

The first person she approached was a middle-aged man with a refined appearance, slightly graying temples, and wearing a dark suit.

His face bore a perfectly measured hint of sorrow and weariness, but his eyes remained sharp. He was none other than the great banker, Defit Claude. Beside him stood Felia, her face pale and dressed in a light pink gown.

"Good evening, Mr. Claude, Miss Felicia," Mrs. Fernail said with genuine concern. "I hope you will take care of yourselves and find solace in your grief."

Duffert Claude gave a slight bow, his voice deep and magnetic: “Thank you for your concern, Mrs. Fernell. Life goes on, and… my wife was also looking forward to Mr. Evan’s art exhibition.”

He turned his gaze to Yu Xing, paused slightly, clearly recognizing him, and gave a forced, grateful smile. "I remember you. Thank you and the other investigator for saving my daughter and my lives that night."

"Eh?" Mrs. Fernell, who had not heard of the background, raised an eyebrow in surprise.

Felia also looked timidly at Yu Xing. After the upheaval in her home, she had lost the liveliness she had shown just two days ago. She whispered, "Thank you, Mr. Yu Xing."

“That’s my duty.” Yu Xing followed Fernail’s example and returned the courtesy. Her gaze calmly swept over Duffert Claude, the banker who exuded the composure of a successful businessman and a hint of grief after losing his wife. He seemed to be greatly affected by the situation.

Next, Mrs. Fernail introduced Yu Xing to a host of prominent figures in town, including Sheriff Brown and his wife, Principal Princeton of Yorickf University, mining magnate Sir Hopes, and antique dealer Mr. Raphael.

Yu Xing responded to each question with the intention of officially building a network of connections today. He advised himself to be composed and speak appropriately, neither appearing overly enthusiastic nor being impolite. He quickly left a good impression on these powerful figures.

Just as the pleasantries came to an end, the lights at the front of the exhibition hall were dimmed and the music was lowered.

All eyes turned to the small, temporary podium set up at the front of the exhibition hall.

A young man with slightly curly hair and a pale complexion, dressed in an artist-style loose shirt and black trousers, walked up.

He was about twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old and could be considered handsome, but his dark brown eyes revealed a gloom that was inconsistent with his age and... a kind of indescribable emptiness.

"The main character for tonight has arrived—it is the painter Irwin Clifford," Mrs. Furnell whispered to Yu Xing.

The painter stood in front of the microphone, his gaze slowly sweeping over the well-dressed guests below the stage, a slightly stiff smile appearing on his face.

"Distinguished ladies and gentlemen," his voice was not loud, but had a peculiar magnetism that seemed to easily capture the audience's attention, "Good evening. Thank you all for taking the time to attend my art exhibition at such a special time."

The room fell silent. "Art is humanity's way of confronting nothingness and pursuing the eternal light," Evan's voice carried an almost chanting tone. "It originates from life, yet transcends it. It captures fleeting inspiration, yet attempts to touch upon the essence of eternity..."

His speech was full of praise for art and some metaphysical reflections, and it sounded quite profound.

However, Yu Xing's attention was not entirely on the words themselves.

He keenly sensed that, as Evan narrated, the paintings hanging in the exhibition hall seemed to faintly emanate a kind of extremely weak yet common spiritual fluctuation, like a sleeping insect being quietly awakened.

This fluctuation carried an allure and a subtle, almost imperceptible corrosive quality, somewhat similar to the pollution he felt in the sketchbook on Rose Avenue, but far more powerful than the spiritual monsters attached to the paintings that he had "devoured" during his last visit to the gallery.

It seems that the new paintings on display this time are a trap specifically prepared for the upper-class attendees.

More importantly, Yu Xing sensed an extremely subtle yet instinctively appetizing aura emanating from this painter, a mixture of starry-sky coldness and a twisted madness.

"...May the light of art dispel the fog in our hearts and bring enlightenment and comfort." As Evan's speech drew to a close, he raised his voice slightly, "Now, I declare this exhibition officially open! Please enjoy the art to your heart's content. It would be my greatest honor if any of the works could touch your heart."

Applause erupted, the lights softened again, and the music flowed once more.

As Evan stepped down from the podium, he was immediately surrounded by several enthusiastic guests.

But his gaze, seemingly intentionally or unintentionally, pierced through the crowd and landed on Yu Xing, who was talking quietly with Madame Funer.

That gaze was scrutinizing, carrying a hint of barely perceptible coldness, and... a certain interest in discovering prey.

Yu Xing looked back calmly, but Ai Wen looked away first. Seeing this, Yu Xing's lips curled into a barely perceptible smile.

After that, guests had free time to explore the area.

The art exhibition officially opened, and guests dispersed like a tide, gathering in twos and threes in front of different paintings, commenting and talking in hushed tones. The air was filled with a unique atmosphere that blended art, money, and social interaction.

Mrs. Fernail clearly enjoyed the occasion; she took Yu Xing's arm and walked enthusiastically toward the nearest painting.

“Let’s start from here. All of Evan’s paintings on display this time are new ones that I haven’t seen yet. Look, such vibrant colors.”

She was looking at a landscape painting depicting an autumn wheat field outside the town of Yolikev.

Golden waves of wheat rippled in the wind, with red-brick farmhouses and a clear blue sky in the distance. The scene was full of sunshine, joy, and tranquility.

“It’s such a heartwarming scene, isn’t it?” Mrs. Fernail murmured. “It always reminds me of the carefree days of my childhood on the manor.”

“It does evoke some pleasant associations,” Yu Xing agreed, her gaze fixed on the painting.

In his perception, deep within this seemingly peaceful painting lurked a faint yet constantly emanating spiritual fluctuation, like a sweet trap, enticing viewers to indulge in this false pastoral idyll and erode their will.

With a slight thought, an invisible branch of curse, like a fish diving to the bottom of the water, silently pierced through the surface of the painting and precisely stabbed into the core of the mental fluctuation—a distorted, golden energy cluster composed of "satisfaction" and "inertia".

Tentacles coiled upwards, and the power of the curse, like the most efficient digestive fluid, began to break down and absorb it.

In Yu Xing's field of vision, the scene of "Autumn Wheat Field" changed instantly!
The golden wheat ears withered and turned black at a visible speed, and the plump grains shriveled and fell off; the azure sky was covered with haze, and the sunlight was dim; the walls of the farmhouses in the distance were mottled and peeling, as if they had been eroded by decades of wind and rain in an instant.

The "warmth" and "joy" atmosphere emanating from the whole scene deflated quickly like a punctured balloon, leaving only a real, slightly desolate autumn feeling.

On a practical level, a plump gentleman standing in front of the painting, who had been admiring the painting, froze slightly, blinked in confusion, and muttered to himself, "Strange, I just thought this painting was particularly pleasing, but suddenly it... feels quite ordinary?"

He shook his head and moved on to the next painting.

Mrs. Fernail seemed to sense something as well, tilting her head slightly: "Hmm? Is it just my imagination? This painting doesn't seem so appealing anymore."

Yu Xing remained calm: "Perhaps it's due to prolonged viewing and visual fatigue. Mrs. Funnel, shall we go take a look over there?"

He naturally guided Madame Furnel toward the next painting.

This is a portrait painting, with the title of the work labeled below.

"The Girl with the Sapphire Earring" - Yu Xingmo said.

In the painting, a pretty young girl turns her head to the side, her eyes shy, and the sapphire by her ear sparkles. The painting technique is skillful, capturing the girl's youth and a hint of unspoken emotion to the fullest.

"Look at those eyes, they're so lifelike," Mrs. Fernail praised. "Evan really has a unique talent for capturing the spirit of his subjects."

In Yu Xing's perception, the "trap" in this painting was even more hidden and malicious.

Deep within the shy gaze of that young girl lies a core that constantly radiates the spiritual pollution of "infatuation" and "possessiveness," tempting viewers to develop unrealistic obsession and attachment to the figures in the painting, especially easily influencing those who are emotionally empty or paranoid.

Another ethereal tentacle reached out, like a precise scalpel, piercing into the core of that "obsession".

In an instant, Yu Xing "saw" the face of the pretty girl in the painting begin to distort!
Her shy gaze turned to terror, her mouth opened silently as if to scream, her entire face began to deform and collapse like a melting wax figure, and her earring lost its luster and turned gray.

A silent spiritual shriek, accompanied by the shattered energy of "obsession," was greedily devoured by the branches.

The original captivating "spirit" of the painting vanished instantly. Although the brushstrokes remained the same, it became an ordinary portrait that, while exquisite, lacked soul.

A young gentleman who had just been gazing at the painting with rapt attention stroked his chin in bewilderment, muttering to himself, "Huh? I was just thinking this girl was my dream girl..."

"Did I really change my mind so quickly? Is that true?"

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