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

Youyu stood up strangely, looked around, and frowned: "Did someone do this? Who could it be? Was it the guests or the staff?"

His gaze swept back and forth between the corpse and the door, as if trying to find answers from the existing clues.

Zhang Yangqing said, "Is it possible that it belongs to one of the young masters or ladies here?"

These words puzzled Youyu Weiwei, who asked in confusion, "This is the home of the young masters and ladies, why are they destroying it?"

His tone was one of confusion, as if he had heard a completely illogical conjecture.

Zhang Yangqing analyzed, "The guests' words are not without suspicion, but they are, after all, guests and don't know much about this place. Even if they wanted to cause damage, they probably wouldn't know the location of the surveillance cameras. Of course, I'm only saying probably; they might know some, but not all."

He paused, then continued, "Next are the staff here. Logically speaking, as long as they are normal human staff, the rules should all revolve around protecting this building, including me. That's the purpose of the staff. If they are strange staff, then they can't turn off the cameras, and I will definitely see them."

The expression on his melancholy and eerie face changed from confusion to sudden realization.

Seeing that he seemed to understand, Zhang Yangqing continued, "You guessed that it might not be the young masters and ladies here because this is their home, but have you ever thought about what they need to do now? They need to find a way to eliminate other competitors and gain more authority."

"If we were to guess a rule about the young masters and ladies, they wouldn't be able to personally attack their opponents here, otherwise they would lose their authority. So their best course of action would be to create some dangerous and bizarre creatures and let these creatures deal with their opponents. In that case, they wouldn't break the rules. So I think it's more likely that the young masters and ladies will take action."

He nodded with a melancholy and strange expression, then thought for a while, as if processing the information.

"I see. It's normal that the young masters and ladies living here are aware of the surveillance here. But I don't know how you came up with so much from such a small amount of information."

His tone carried an indescribable emotion, a mixture of admiration and感慨 (gǎnkǎi, a feeling of deep emotion).

He couldn't understand how Zhang Yangqing could be so brilliant; with just a little information, he could deduce things so logically.

Once you've done this reasoning, you won't be searching for clues like a headless fly; at least you'll have a goal.

It's not about searching aimlessly, but about verifying with a specific direction.

The melancholy, enigmatic voice continued, "So where do we go now?"

This had become a habit of his, and he guessed that Zhang Yangqing already had a plan.

Zhang Yangqing glanced at the marks on the ground and said, "These guys went upstairs. Let's go up and take a look."

There were footprints on the ground, very shallow and light, pointing upwards, one every few steps.

Upon reaching the fourth floor, Zhang Yangqing and Youyu Weiyi both frowned, because they smelled a faint scent of blood.

The smell was faint, but exceptionally clear in the quiet corridor, like freshly spilled blood that hadn't yet had time to congeal.

The two cautiously walked toward the direction of the bloody scent.

The corridor was eerie, with black mist emanating from some places. The black mist seeped out from the cracks in the walls, in wisps, as if someone was breathing on the other side of the walls.

The streetlights overhead shone dimly, illuminating only a small area at our feet, but not reaching far beyond.

It was dark outside the window, with the light from the streetlights shining in from outside, a dim yellow light that flickered intermittently.

Every word told the Chosen One that something was wrong here, that strange things were happening.

As they walked, Zhang Yangqing's strange, melancholic breathing could be heard, particularly clear in the empty corridor. A sense of danger emanated from them, as if something was watching them from the shadows, waiting for them to take the wrong step.

They walked around a few corners and came to the door of a room. The door was ajar, with a crack about the width of a finger.

Light shone through the crack in the door; it was very dim, like a light that was about to go out.

The two exchanged a glance, and a melancholic and eerie figure summoned a painted humanoid warrior from the painting. It was grayish-white, without facial features, and its body was composed of lines and blocks of color, as if it had stepped off the painting.

It walked ahead, pushed open the door, and went inside.

The room was dimly lit and served as a lounge.

The sofa was tilted, the coffee table was overturned, the table lamp fell to the ground, and the lampshade was broken.

A human corpse lay on the ground, dressed in a staff uniform, dark blue, with a name tag on its chest, but the meaning of the words on it was illegible.

He lay face down on the ground, blood seeping from beneath him, leaving a large dark red stain on the carpet.

It was horrific; the body had been gnawed on, with bite marks on the arms and a chunk of flesh missing from the shoulder, exposing the bone underneath.

It had no head, and the neck was broken in jagged strokes, clearly indicating it had been bitten off.

The fatal wound was in the chest; the heart had been ripped out, the chest cavity was empty, and there were claw marks on the edges.

There were signs of a struggle; the sofa had been pushed aside, the coffee table had fallen over, and there were several patches of blood on the floor, indicating that he had struggled, gotten up, fallen down, got up again, and fell down again.

Strangely, there were only the victim's footprints in the room, and no second person's footprints.

The killer's footprints disappeared, as if he had never been there.

The man crouched down, his expression melancholic and unsettling. He reached out and touched the corpse's skin, examining it closely. "It hasn't been dead long; the blood is still warm. The murderer might still be nearby."

His voice was very low, as if he was afraid of disturbing something or being overheard.

A smile appeared on Zhang Yangqing's lips: "Isn't the murderer possibly nearby? Right here nearby, didn't you notice?"

With a melancholic, eerie expression and a tense look, he glanced around: "Where? How did you determine that?"

His voice was somewhat uneasy, and his fingers unconsciously tightened their grip on the paintbrush, ready to fight at any moment.

Zhang Yangqing began his analysis in a serious tone: "This murderer leaves no trace when he walks, he can probably fly, and he was probably eating a corpse when he noticed us coming, so he hid."

As he spoke, a melancholic and eerie look began to sweep around his surroundings, his gaze lingering on the ceiling before pausing briefly in the corner of the wall.

I admire Zhang Yangqing's ability to analyze things so calmly.

Having analyzed the situation to this point, the melancholic and eerie figure had already guessed that the murderer was spying on them from somewhere, assessing their fighting ability.

The more he thought about it, the more his scalp tingled, and his eyes kept glancing around, afraid of missing any details.

His hands trembled eerily, his heart raced, and his back was drenched in cold sweat. (End of Chapter)