absurd deduction game.

The performer, sensing the gazes of the crowd, merely tilted his head slightly, a humble yet mysterious smile playing on his lips, and raised his glass in a gesture of respect towards the podium, his demeanor elegant and composed.

Evan nodded solemnly in the direction of the actor, his tone full of sincere gratitude: "What's even more remarkable is that Mr. Actor bought this painting not for his own collection, but decided to donate it to another investigator who is just as outstanding as him—Mr. Yu Xing!"

Another uproar erupted, and everyone's eyes darted back and forth between Yu Xing and the actor.

“Mr. Lingren believes that only Mr. Yu Xing’s temperament and insight can truly understand the extraordinary meaning contained in ‘Starry Night’,” Ai Wen added at the right time, his words full of praise for the two investigators’ vision. “Faced with such sincere friendship and a pure pursuit of art, I really cannot and will not refuse.”

He faced the crowd, spread his hands, and made a gesture of helplessness mixed with blessing: "Therefore, I have to announce with both regret and relief that 'Starry Night' will no longer be publicly exhibited. It will go directly to its final destination in such a legendary way."

"Let us give a round of applause to thank Mr. Lingren for his generosity and dedication to art, and also wish Mr. Yu Xing endless inspiration and enlightenment from it!"

Scattered applause began, gradually growing into enthusiastic applause.

Although many were disappointed at not being able to see "Starry Night" in person, this dramatic scene undoubtedly added a brilliant touch to tonight's exhibition and will be a topic of conversation in high society salons for some time to come.

At least in this town, no one would say "no" to the investigators from Utopia.

Amid the applause, Evan bowed slightly, a hint of triumph flashing in the depths of his eyes before quickly disappearing beneath the mask of an artist's sensualism.

As the last polite applause faded from the exhibition hall, Evan Clifford steadily stepped down from the podium.

He ignored the guests who tried to approach him to inquire or express their regret, his gaze like a precise magnet, locking onto Yu Xing, who was standing with Mrs. Funer.

He walked through the crowd, his steps carrying a deliberately suppressed urgency, his face a mixture of lingering artist's excitement and a secret, almost bursting-out-of-the-cocoon anticipation.

"Mrs. Funel, Mr. Yu Xing." He stopped in front of them, his voice lower and hoarser than when he was on stage, as if he was still immersed in the aftershocks of some intense emotion.

He first gave a polite bow to Madame Funer, then his gaze became fixed intently on Yu Xing.

“Mr. Yu Xing,” he repeated the title, his tone carrying an unmistakable, almost forceful invitation, “The ‘Starry Sky’ magazine has now been moved to the quiet lounge at the back. Would it be convenient for you to come with me now? I believe that only in undisturbed tranquility can you truly appreciate its… full essence.”

His words carried an ambiguous implication, and his deep brown eyes were fixed on Yu Xing, as if a hunter were confirming whether its prey had stepped into the edge of a trap.

He leaned forward slightly, lowered his voice, but made sure that Madame Funer could hear him clearly: "The generous gift from the actor deserves to be presented and explained to you personally on an occasion worthy of it."

This explanation makes perfect sense. Since the artists were unwilling to have "Starry Night" publicly exhibited, the painting did indeed need a private and ceremonial handover.

Upon hearing this, Mrs. Fernail elegantly raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

She gently nudged Yu Xing beside her with her elbow and whispered, "Go ahead, Mr. Yu Xing."

Yu Xing met Ai Wen's almost undisguised eager gaze, her face still calm and composed, but a fleeting hint of mockery, barely perceptible to others, flashed across her eyes.

He nodded slightly, his tone calm and even: "In that case, I'll trouble Mr. Clifford to lead the way."

"This way, please!" Evan almost immediately stepped aside to lead the way, as if afraid that Yu Xing would change her mind. He led Yu Xing through the guests who had not yet completely dispersed and were casting curious glances, towards the quieter and dimmer corridor deep inside the gallery.

The two figures gradually disappeared into the shadows of the corridor, as if they were being silently swallowed by an invisible maw.

Mrs. Furnel, who remained where she was, gently waved her silk folding fan, looked in the direction they had left, smiled thoughtfully, then turned around and gracefully joined in the final greetings and farewells.

They walked through the gallery, where the paintings that had "faded" hung, and headed towards a more private area deep inside the gallery.

The carpet in the corridor absorbed the sound of footsteps, and all around was silent except for the two people's soft breathing and a kind of indescribable, gradually spreading sense of oppression.

Evan stopped in front of a heavy door inlaid with dark wood grain. He took out a key, inserted it into the lock, and turned it with a clear "click".

"Please come in." He pushed open the door, stepped aside, and gestured for Yu Xing to enter.

Yu Xing stepped inside.

This is a larger lounge, elegantly decorated with comfortable sofas and coffee tables, presumably used by the gallery to entertain VIPs. But at this moment, all attention is involuntarily drawn to the solitary painting standing in the center of the room.

It was covered by a deep purple velvet curtain and leaned quietly against the easel.

Evan gently closed the door behind him, shutting out the last sound from the outside world.

The room fell into an almost absolute silence, as if the air itself had frozen.

He walked to the easel, his fingers trembling, and with an almost reverent excitement, he grasped a corner of the curtain.

“Are you ready, Mr. Yu Xing?” he asked in a hoarse voice, his eyes fixed on Yu Xing. “This will be a miracle you’ve never seen before…”

"A miracle?" With no one else around, Yu Xing didn't stand on ceremony. He let out a sneer. "Actually, I didn't understand either... You already guessed I was the one ruining your plans, so how dare you present the final painting to me alone? So your confidence comes from the word 'miracle'?"

Evan: "..."

Of course, of course!
Even a legendary investigator, even a powerful investigator who can remove the pollution from all the paintings in the exhibition without leaving a trace, cannot withstand "Starry Night"!
Because that is the aura of an ancient god!
He didn't wait any longer and pulled hard!
The velvet curtain slid down, revealing the "miracle" hidden beneath.

—Starry Night.

Upon first sight of it, even Yu Xing, who was prepared, couldn't help but slightly contract her pupils.

On the canvas, there is no dazzling Milky Way, no familiar constellations, and not even a clear distinction between heaven and earth.

It was a boundless, thick, and impenetrable deep space background, not pure black, but a constantly writhing and changing mixture of dark purple and eerie green, like a living cosmic membrane.

Against this unsettling backdrop, countless "stars" dot the landscape.

They are not round dots of light, but rather twisted, multi-faceted, constantly rotating and contracting geometric symbols, or bizarre patterns that stare at the outside world like broken eyeballs.

They emanated a cold, inhuman light, their colors eerie—pale white, filthy yellow, and morbid pink… This light illuminated nothing, instead making the surrounding darkness deeper and thicker. And among these “stars,” the silhouettes of unimaginably enormous, indescribable shadows could be vaguely seen, lurking behind the colors, composed of countless writhing lines and incomprehensible structures. Their very existence exuded a sense of oppression capable of shattering the sanity of mortals.

The entire painting seemed to possess life; Yu Xing could clearly "hear" a silent shriek, a cold and frantic call from the depths of the universe, directly affecting the depths of his soul.

The viscous, almost tangible, power of pollution spread from the canvas like a tidal wave, filling the entire room. It was far more powerful, ancient, and malevolent than all the mental pollution cores he had previously devoured combined.

This is a distorting force that points directly to the origin of the rules; it contains a more fundamental... conceptual alteration.

This seems to be a different ancient god from the Red Moon, Yu Xing thought.

Evan stood beside the painting, breathing rapidly, his face flushed an unnatural red. He greedily took a deep breath, as if savoring the polluted fragrance.

He looked at Yu Xing, his eyes filled with anticipation and malice: "How is it? Mr. Yu Xing, this is true art! Transcending the mundane, reaching the very source, feel it, feel this...gift from the stars!"

Yu Xing ignored him, his entire attention focused on "Starry Sky".

As planned, he deliberately relaxed his defenses, as if opening a floodgate, actively guiding the immense polluting power into his body.

In an instant, a chilling torrent, seemingly formed from countless mad thoughts, surged into the depths of his consciousness along his line of sight!
The scene before my eyes began to distort and deform.

The warm glow of the wall lamps in the lounge dimmed and flickered like dying stars, and the patterns on the walls seemed to come alive, twisting into eerie symbols like those in a painting.

A million incomprehensible murmurs echoed in his ears, chaotic and frenzied, trying to tear apart all his rationality and cognition.

But Yu Xing's core consciousness remained steadfast, like a lighthouse in the eye of a storm.

He clearly sensed the flow of pollution, how that force was trying to reshape his soul, how it was imprinting some foreign, cold will onto the very source of his existence.

Then, he felt that force locking onto a certain "concept"—the connection between the head and the torso.

An extremely eerie feeling descended upon me instantly.

There was no pain, no tearing sensation, and not even any physical tactile feedback.

But Yu Xing "knew" that, according to some rule definition that transcends the material realm, his "head," his "neck," and his "torso" below were forcibly severed.

Death then came.

He subconsciously raised his hand and touched his neck.

The touch from his fingertips was warm and complete, his skin was smooth, his neck bones were strong, and his arteries pulsated steadily under his skin. Looking down, he could see his chest and arms, everything was normal.

However, on a level of perception, an undeniable fact told him that his head was no longer there.

He lost connection with his head; a void, conceptual “severance” existed on his neck, as if it should have been empty.

This is an extremely contradictory experience: physical feedback such as vision and touch is normal, but deeper cognition leads to completely opposite conclusions.

Yu Xing narrowed her eyes slightly, carefully savoring this peculiar state.

The system within him hesitated for two seconds before confirming that he had indeed triggered a new mission.

[Side quest triggered: You have encountered the "Celestial Painting"]

You find yourself as a "headless person".

It turned out to be the case.

"Headless Man"?
The pollution in this painting can cause people to fall into the concept of head and body separation without realizing it. It's as if a person has already died the moment they look at the painting, but is still kept alive by the pollution in the painting.

Isn't this the same as the headless homeless man that Qu Xianqing encountered the night before last?

Could it be that this painting was an experiment conducted in the slums before it was decided to be exhibited?
That makes sense.

"The Headless One"... a conceptual curse, and ordinary people who are afflicted with it will not have the same clear senses as him; they will simply become dead without even realizing it.

Even for those who perform calculations, if the calculations are performed by someone with weaker perception, they will not be able to detect their own abnormal state, and the system prompts will not appear.

He looked up at Evan.

Aiven was staring intently at him. When he saw Yu Xing raise his hand to touch his neck, a hint of feigned confusion flashing in his eyes, the painter's inhuman, twisted smile could no longer be contained and spread out, almost reaching his ears.

That smile was filled with the ecstatic joy of a successful plan, the intoxication of power, and a morbid sense of satisfaction from having others completely under one's control.

He succeeded.

This powerful and unsettling investigator was finally turned into one of his own kind by the great being he served! He became a pitiful creature, headless and left only to depend on the will of the ancient god!

"How do you feel, Mr. Yu Xing?" Evan's voice trembled with excitement. "Did you feel... that freedom from the shackles of the flesh, that closer connection to the true nature of the universe?"

Yu Xing lowered his hand, showing neither fear, anger, nor fanaticism.

This unusual calm gave rise to a slight unease in Evan's ecstatic mood, but it was quickly overwhelmed by the wave of success.

He firmly believed that no one could remain sober under the direct light of "Starry Night." His Lord had already subtly planted faith in the other's soul, though it had not yet sprouted.

In other words, the Lord felt that this was not the time to allow the pollution to erupt.

"Freedom?" Yu Xing finally spoke, her voice completely normal. "How absurd." (End of Chapter)