From the Ship of Fools to Earl of Wugang

"Excuse me, I... the gun went off accidentally."

Upon seeing the three wary men, Carl immediately raised his hands, then slowly and awkwardly pulled a revolver from his smoking pocket under their watchful eyes.

Edmund rolled his eyes inwardly, while Starsword remained remarkably calm, even having the composure to offer gentle words of comfort.

"Mr. Pick, please put this away. The whole room is covered in turpentine; it would be terrible if it caught fire again."

Carl frantically unloaded the revolver bullets, which clattered and fell to the ground.

He stuffed the empty gun back into his pocket, his face shifting between panic and embarrassment before finally settling into a look of utter exhaustion.

"I...I only used it for self-defense." Karl rubbed his face vigorously and explained in a trembling voice, "You don't know, something's been wrong with this house lately."

Xingjian tilted his head slightly, signaling him to continue.

Carl, huddled in his chair, struggled to control his near-out-of-control expression: "Ever since I got here, something has been making noise at night."

"I thought it was rats. But three nights ago, I clearly heard the sound of breaking glass coming from here. When I came upstairs with my gun, the room was empty, but that window—"

He pointed to a window pane in the French windows: "It was opened from the outside, and there were mud stains along the bottom edge of the frame."

"Did you call the police?" Jiliu asked.

Carl gave a wry smile: "All three policemen in Greygull Town are fed up with my uncle who 'ran away from home.' Besides, if someone breaks into a house? They'll just think I'm not quite mentally sound either."

His voice trailed off: "My uncle has been missing for two months now. If someone has been missing for three years, their family can apply for a declaration of death. But I don't want to wait three years..."

Edmund, standing to the side, chimed in, "Is it because of the inheritance?"

[At this point, I hope readers will remember our domain name 12199.99]

Carl paused for a moment, then nodded, this time without denying it.

"My uncle has no wife or children; his only direct relative is my father. If he is declared dead, his estate should be inherited by me according to the order of succession."

He lowered his hand, revealing bloodshot eyes: "But he also has an annoying partner who co-owns this house. After my uncle disappeared, he started applying to the court for property preservation. If I can't find proof that my uncle is alive, that house—"

"Then your inheritance rights will become complicated," Starsword finished the sentence for him.

After a moment, Star Sword spoke up: "Mr. Pike, your uncle's disappearance may involve something unusual. If you allow us to continue the investigation, we might be able to find the answers sooner."

"You're probably not just art school students, are you?" Karl sighed, then waved his hand. "But it doesn't matter. You can investigate here, and stay as long as you like."

Jiliu gave Edmund a subtle thumbs-up with his hand hanging by his side, and Xingjian also showed a satisfied smile, pointing to the painting "Full Moon Cemetery".

"What just happened proves that things like this painting might be detrimental to you. Why don't you leave for now and let us handle this?"

Karl pursed his lips, thought for a moment, and then slowly nodded.

He pulled a bunch of keys from his pocket and tossed them to Xingjian, then took out a business card from his wallet: "There are vacant rooms downstairs, and the sheets are clean. I'm staying at a hotel in the city. If you find anything, call this number."

After saying that, he turned around decisively and walked quickly out of the studio.

A moment later, a long, suppressed scream echoed from the depths of the corridor. It was the sound of someone squeezing out two months' worth of pent-up fear, anxiety, and helplessness from their chest.

Then came the second sound, the third sound, until finally it gradually faded into the distance.

The studio remained quiet for a long time.

"Poor thing," Torrent commented, walking to the French window Karl had pointed out earlier, crouching down, and sniffing it.

"Lime, soil, and a rotten stench." Her brow furrowed. "The intruders have been in this damp underground environment for a long time."

Edmund's thoughts raced. Underground?

He recalled the distorted creatures in the sketch "Full Moon Cemetery" and the alien atmosphere he had previously felt in Heinrich Pick's painting "Twilight, Tide, Cliff".

"Are there any cemeteries around here?" Edmund asked.

"Judging from that painting, it should exist." Xingjian straightened his collar. "But it's getting dark, so we'd better hurry."

The three left the studio, but Karl had vanished without a trace.

The house was eerily quiet, with only the rustling of the wind through the ivy vines. They left the painter's residence as dusk fell.

Greygull Cemetery is located on the edge of the town, near the coastal cliffs. Its rusty iron gate and mottled bronze plaques testify to its antiquity and desolation.

The gravedigger's hut is located near the entrance and is a low brick and stone building.

The three quickly found the gravedigger's hut near the entrance, and an old man came out after Star Sword knocked on the door.

"It's so late, what's the matter?" The old man's voice was a little hoarse.

"We've been asked by Mr. Karl Pick to inquire about Mr. Heinrich Pick," Starsword explained politely, showing the business card Karl had given him. "We've heard he's a frequent visitor here?"

The old man squinted, examining the business card by the light of the kerosene lamp, then shook his head: "Never heard of this person."

Xingjian didn't speak, he just quietly looked at the old man.

Jiliu stepped forward, emanating a subtle yet palpable sense of oppression.

The old man took a half step back, his Adam's apple bobbing, his eyes flickering: "Maybe...maybe it's a young person? I'm not sure..."

Jiliu didn't say anything, but simply stepped forward and grabbed the old man by the collar.

"Alright, alright! There is such a painter." The old man finally admitted it, "He often comes around the time of the full moon, saying he's looking for inspiration."

He opened the door to the cabin and gestured for the three of them to come inside.

"He always gives me some money and tells me not to ask what he's doing. I can't be bothered to care, as long as he doesn't cause trouble."

"Which section of the cemetery does he frequent?" Edmund asked.

The old man answered fairly readily: "There are some old tombstones on the north side, near the cliff. But I don't recommend you go there at night."

Jiliu raised an eyebrow: "Why?"

The old man hesitated for a moment, as if he had made up his mind:

"About a month ago, on the night of the full moon, when I was patrolling the cemetery with the town's pastor, we found that several old tombstones had been dug up, with soil scattered everywhere. There were also some very strange marks next to the tombstones, which I don't know..."

The old man seemed to hesitate and pause, but Jiliu's smile made him continue.

"They're scratches! The pastor suspects someone used tools to carve them out, but I don't believe it—who would joke about an anonymous person's tombstone like that? So they must be three deep scratches, perhaps from a bear."