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

Seeing the Eighth Young Master's death, the red-haired psychic was filled with disbelief, as if he were witnessing a scene that should never have happened.

Although he wasn't one of the Eighth Young Master's subordinates, he knew just how powerful the Eighth Young Master was.

The reason why the Eighth Young Master is so arrogant is because of his talent and strength, as well as the fact that his subordinates are also very capable.

The bandaged men around him were all formidable fighters, and they felt no pain, no fear, and would never betray him.

The Eighth Young Master himself is a combat genius, proficient in close combat, ranged attacks, defensive shields, and energy bursts.

On ordinary days, he was able to help his mistress deal with some dangerous enemies, which was also the basis for his arrogance.

Among all the young masters and ladies, he was definitely one of the top fighters.

When the killings first began, the red-haired psychic was already wondering if it was the Eighth Young Master who had started it.

Because the Eighth Young Master was the most dissatisfied with the other young masters and ladies, and also the one with the strongest murderous intent, he didn't even give the Ninth Miss a kind look.

Even though his subordinates all knew that he harbored resentment over his favoritism towards his mistress and scorned the mediocrity of his other brothers and sisters, he always felt that he was the most qualified person to inherit everything.

Who would have thought that he would be the first to die, and that he would die such a tragic death?

Even the red-haired psychic, who was used to such carnage, felt nauseous. His stomach churned a few times, and he had to lean against the wall to keep from vomiting.

He cautiously walked up to examine it, squatted down, and carefully looked at the head.

His hair was standing up, and the shape of his eyebrows, the mole on his face, and the curve of his mouth confirmed that it was indeed the Eighth Young Master. It wasn't a fake; it was real skin and a real head.

Black blood was still seeping from the cut flesh, and the skin at the edge was the same color as the skin, without any trace of disguise.

The red-haired psychic looked at the side dishes again. The meat on the plate was neatly cut and arranged in the shape of flower petals, garnished with cilantro and lemon slices.

Each piece of meat has skin attached, and you can even see the fine pores on the skin.

Without a doubt, those side dishes were also the remains of the Eighth Young Master.

He was dismembered and made into exquisite dishes, which were placed on the table like a grand feast for people to enjoy.

The red-haired psychic stood up, his face still pale.

He walked up to Zhang Yangqing and said in a somewhat hoarse voice, "Who did this?"

Zhang Yangqing looked speechless and shrugged: "It wasn't me who did it, how would I know?"

Zhang Yangqing is no god; he just arrived here, and the murderer must have premeditated something, or rather, orchestrated a large-scale operation.

It's fair to say that virtually no clues were left behind. Zhang Yangqing hadn't read the script, so how would he know who did it?

The melancholy man pointed at the body parts and asked, "Should we take these away or have someone watch over them?"

Zhang Yangqing shook his head and said, "No need, this is definitely not suicide."

Red-haired psychic: "."

Melancholy and eerie: "."

That makes sense. Who commits suicide and then dismembers themselves into eight pieces, turns them into food, and displays them here?

It wasn't that Zhang Yangqing hadn't considered the possibility of suicide, but this certainly didn't look like a suicide scene.

Judging from the neatness of those incisions, the person who made the cut was calm and professional, avoiding major blood vessels with each cut, allowing the blood to flow out slowly instead of splattering everywhere.

Judging from the exquisite presentation, the person had the leisure to arrange the meat slices into the shape of flower petals and slice the internal organs into thin pieces and arrange them aside while committing the murder.

This was not a spur-of-the-moment impulsive killing; it was a premeditated execution.

The most important point is that this is a retaliatory murder. Someone is using the most cruel method to declare to everyone: I can kill you, and I can kill you in the way I like.

So after Zhang Yangqing turned on the surveillance, he didn't do anything else, but went to the third place, which was the conference room.

The three of them walked carefully down the corridor.

On their way to the conference room, they encountered some weaker, more eerie entities.

Some resembled a viscous black liquid, slowly crawling on the ground; others looked like an eyeless canine, emitting a low growl from a corner; and still others resembled a floating rag, silently tumbling in the air.

Zhang Yangqing didn't let the melancholy eer and the red-haired psychic expend too much energy; he used the power of his glove to take care of both of them.

The other two were handed over to the two of them to work together. Together they killed the two monsters. Every battle was quick and clean.

When they were killing the fourth one, they encountered several other young masters and ladies' subordinates who helped them deal with the strange remains.

Leading the group was the middle-aged man who was a professional assassin. He still looked as capable as ever, holding a blood-dripping fruit knife with strange bits of flesh hanging from the tip.

Beside him was a mysterious man in a dark cloak. His face was obscured, but he was very steady and walked almost silently. He was someone Zhang Yangqing had seen before, and he was very strong.

The other henchmen were also injured, with bloodstains on their clothes, but their eyes were still bright, and they had not been crushed by fear.

In a way, the leader and Zhang Yangqing knew each other.

He asked Zhang Yangqing and the others where they were going, and Zhang Yangqing said they were going to the place where the surveillance was problematic, which was the conference room.

The servants of these young masters and ladies followed without hesitation.

The group of eight arrived at the conference room, where the eerie atmosphere was even stronger. It was pitch black, the space was chaotic, and the blood and filth were very strong.

The floating fragments of space were still moving slowly, as if they were being stirred up by something.

Following the old custom, Zhang Yangqing lit a match, and the flame lit up in the darkness, like a lonely eye.

He located the surveillance camera and turned it on.

The space gradually stabilized, the floating debris landed, the cracks closed, and the ground returned to its flat state.

What happened next was rather frightening.

The second and fourth young masters lay in pools of blood, their bodies askew, as if they had been thrown down from a great height.

Miraculously, both of them seemed to still have pulses and their hearts were still beating.

There's nothing strange about this place, just spatial distortion and a lot of pollution. If it's discovered quickly, it can still be saved.

The cloaked man under the second young master and the assassin uncle under the fourth young master immediately rushed forward, squatted down beside their respective masters, reached out to check their pulses, and then began to search for the antidote medicine to give to the young masters.

The men worked quickly and professionally.

At this stage, removing the pollution as soon as possible increases the chances of survival.

Zhang Yangqing had been observing the second and fourth young masters from beginning to end.

The second young master still looked refined. Although he was covered in blood, his hair was still neatly combed, and there were no obvious wounds on his face, only a trace of blood at the corner of his mouth, indicating that his injuries were relatively minor.

The fourth young master's half-white hair was stained red with blood, there were deep claw marks on his shoulders that revealed the bone underneath, and several scratches on his back. His injuries were quite severe, and his breathing was shallow, as if he might die at any moment.

The cloaked man and the assassin uncle stopped their bleeding, bandaged their wounds, and supplied them with energy.

After a while, the two of them finally recovered.

After being rescued, the cloaked man asked the second young master, who was the first to wake up, "Young master, what happened? What are you doing here?" (End of this chapter)