I am a full-level celestial master, you let me enter the strange talk of rules?

At that moment, the bandaged security guard slid down from the pillar connecting to the ceiling. His bandages were covered in blood, and the red blood dripped down his fingers onto the carpet, quickly seeping into the dark red plush.

His face was very pale, his lips were purple, and his forehead was covered in cold sweat, indicating that he had lost a lot of blood.

It's clear that he climbed up and slid down with great effort, which caused his wounds to reopen.

If other chosen ones saw this, they might ask a question, since he climbed up and turned on the surveillance camera.

But Zhang Yangqing wouldn't say any of that. It wasn't that he was heartless, but in Zhang Yangqing's understanding: You're the one who turned off the camera, I'm already being lenient by not beating you to death, why should I care about you?
He didn't speak, but just glanced at the bandaged security guard. That glance was very calm and emotionless.

The security guard, realizing he was in the wrong, didn't say anything. He took out a new roll of bandage from his pocket, bit one end, and wrapped the other end tightly around his injured hand, round and round.

The bleeding stopped quickly. He moved his fingers to make sure he could still move them, and then stood up straight.

As a security guard, bleeding and injuries are commonplace and nothing to be surprised about.

The bandaged security guard followed Zhang Yangqing's gaze and saw a human arm on the table in the middle of the restaurant.

It wasn't a complete corpse; there was only one arm, torn off cleanly from the shoulder down to the fingers.

The fabric on her arm was exactly the same as the one Zhang Yangqing was wearing—the same color, the same material, and the same style.

The arm rested on the main seat of the table, a white napkin on a plate. The arm rested on the napkin, the fingers slightly spread, as if grasping something, or as if rejecting something.

The two approached to observe. Previously, the surveillance footage was unclear, black and white, blurry, and only outlines and light and dark could be seen.

Now you can see clearly that her arms are slender, her skin is fair, and her nails are painted with light pink nail polish and are neatly manicured.

There were no rings on her fingers, no bracelets on her wrists, nothing at all.

This is a woman's arm.

The cut on the severed arm was messy, not cut with a knife, but torn. The muscle fibers were not cut, but pulled apart, jagged and uneven, like a piece of torn cloth.

The bone fracture was also rough; it wasn't sawed, it was broken.

One can imagine how horribly the last monitor died.

If a skilled swordsman were to cut off your arm, it would be a swift and clean cut, over before you even had a chance to react, and it wouldn't hurt as much.

But this tearing method was different; she was fully conscious when something forcibly ripped her arm off her body.

She watched her arm being ripped off, heard the sound of her muscles tearing, and felt her bones being forcibly broken in her joint sockets—the feeling was excruciating.

Zhang Yangqing didn't move the arm; he was just observing.

He squatted down, looked at it for a while, then stood up, went around to the other side of the table, and looked at it from another angle for a while.

Then he turned to the bandaged security guard and said, "Was this arm here when you came in?"

The bandaged security guard nodded, his gaze falling on the arm before quickly shifting away, not daring to look any longer. He replied, "I didn't pay much attention at the time, but I did see an arm here. I didn't dare to move, nor did I get that close."

Zhang Yangqing looked at him calmly, but the bandaged security guard felt an inexplicable pressure, as if something was pressing on his chest, making it hard for him to breathe: "You didn't kill him, did you?"

The bandaged security guard took a step back and waved his hand quickly: "Brother, this has nothing to do with me. I've only been here a few days. If I had known being a security guard was this dangerous, I wouldn't have come."

Zhang Yangqing didn't entirely believe this.

The bandaged security guard is suspected of murder, but there is currently no evidence, and appearances still need to be maintained.

Zhang Yangqing nodded, feigning belief: "That's true, with your skill level, you probably couldn't beat this female surveillance operator."

Judging from the muscle definition, skin condition, and wear and tear on her nails, he concluded that the female security guard had definitely trained. Not just for show, but genuinely trained; the muscles in her arm were well-defined and firm, and there was a sense of power flowing beneath her skin.

This is enough to prove how strong the guy who killed her was.

The bandaged security guard may have been slightly displeased upon hearing this, but he didn't show it and quickly resumed his憨厚 (honest and simple) smile.

His smile contained embarrassment, helplessness, and something else that was hard to define.

He scratched his head and said, "That's right, look at how badly I've been beaten. I don't have that kind of skill."

He spoke with sincerity, but Zhang Yangqing sensed another meaning behind his words.

Zhang Yangqing also noticed many details from this sentence.

The bandaged security guard kept using the act of being injured and showing weakness in order to make him underestimate him, to make himself appear harmless and not worth being wary of.

Showing weakness is the best disguise. If you think someone is weak, you won't be on guard against them. If you're not on guard against them, they will have an opportunity.

This was the calculation of the bandaged security guard.

He's intelligent, resourceful, and even knows how to feign weakness perfectly.

Not too much, not too fake, just right to make people believe it.

This is the verbal battle between Zhang Yangqing and the bandaged security guard.

On the surface, the two of them were discussing things amicably.

But behind every sentence lies another meaning, and behind every expression lies another emotion.

They're probably all secretly plotting against each other.

This also shows that the bandaged security guard is definitely not unintelligent.

There were no further details about the restaurant. Zhang Yangqing walked out first, his pace neither fast nor slow, just as he had come in.

He walked to the door, paused, and without turning around, his voice came from behind him: "I still need to repair the surveillance cameras in a few places, let's do it together."

Zhang Yangqing's words were still part of a game of strategy.

His calm demeanor and familiarity with the area left the bandaged security guards unsure whether he had just arrived or had been there for a while.
If you just arrived, why are you so familiar with the layout of the corridor, the location of the stairs, and the direction of the doors?
If the surveillance footage has been there for a while, why are so many of the images turning off?

The bandaged security guard frowned slightly from an angle where Zhang Yangqing couldn't see him, but quickly relaxed his brow.

"Alright, I'm happy to serve you, brother." The bandaged security guard followed, walking behind Zhang Yangqing, keeping a distance of two steps.

He's neither too close nor too far, so that people won't feel like he's stalking them, nor will they feel like he's distancing himself from them.

As the bandaged security guard walked down the corridor, the game continued.

He slowed his pace, moved to Zhang Yangqing's side, and observed Zhang Yangqing's profile out of the corner of his eye.

"Brother, how long have you been here?"

His tone was casual, like a new colleague asking a veteran employee about something.

He wanted to know how much Zhang Yangqing knew, how much intelligence he had gathered here, and whether he had been to places he hadn't been.

Zhang Yangqing didn't exaggerate much, casually saying, "I've been here for a while now, and as your senior, there are some things I need to tell you." (End of Chapter)