Chapter 84 The Curtain Rises

The bloody scene before him proclaimed Morgan's death, and, truthfully, Ye Hui was still somewhat dazed. Out of nowhere, a fake policeman had appeared, then decisively and heroically shot Morgan dead—a plot straight from a melodrama.

He frantically rifled through his notebook, and after persistent effort, finally found Morgan's date of death. It matched the real-world time of Morgan's demise, yet Ye Hui felt no joy. After confirming that none of his colleagues were covertly orchestrating the death, Ye Hui realized this was a different sort of demise: accidental death. A death with no intervention from any underworld employee—pure accident.

In fact, this was quite normal. Countless people die at the same moment worldwide, and the underworld could never employ enough staff to match that number. Accidental deaths lie outside their jurisdiction, and there are many other similar situations.

Life seemed to be playing a farcical drama.

Ye Hui had just formed the intention to kill Morgan, then Morgan was shot dead. It was difficult for him to get to the bottom of the matter, since nobody could know now what the young policeman had truly thought.

Indeed, with the second gunshot, the young policeman also fell.

Though the arriving officers explained that their aim had been the young policeman’s gun hand, hoping to prevent him from harming innocent civilians, they hadn’t expected the recoil to throw off the shot, and the bullet’s trajectory shifted.

Ye Hui pressed his lips in silence, sensing he’d stumbled into something serious. Yet he couldn’t break the rules and reveal his identity as an underworld worker, nor ask the police to turn a blind eye for his sake.

It was reasonable for the bullet’s angle to shift—after all, not everyone was a sharpshooter. But the young policeman was shot in the temple, as was Morgan—a clean headshot.

This made the police explanation hard to believe. According to their story, the young policeman had impersonated a public official, and they’d fired to protect Ye Hui. The misplaced aim was pure accident.

Lingling Liu covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. Her keen eyes had seen the policeman aim straight for the temple, not as he had explained.

Such casual lies might fool ordinary people, but those who’ve weathered storms would not believe so easily.

Ye Hui could only nod in agreement; after all, neither death concerned him, and the police hadn’t questioned him much. He simply followed procedure, without digging for the hidden motives and entanglements behind the incident.

Besides, Ye Hui truly knew nothing—not even Morgan’s name. The events had happened so abruptly that he’d played the perfect bystander, witnessing the passing of two lives.

Even after the police departed, Ye Hui felt something was amiss in his heart, though he couldn’t pinpoint what.

Lingling Liu mocked him for a long while, joking that Ye Hui had become obsessed with orchestrating deaths, always scheming for a natural, undetectable demise.

In Ye Hui’s words, their profession required utter discretion; the most ingenious death designs often mimicked nature best.

“Is that so? Perhaps I’m just overthinking,” Ye Hui sighed helplessly. After years in the trade, everything he saw seemed to hint at a fatal cause.

On the roof of a distant villa, a figure in a white cloak stood tall, shrouded in a faint mist. His body flickered in and out of view among the fog, and when the breeze stirred, one could glimpse scores of thumb-thick rope-like objects writhing in the air.

“The grand performance is about to begin!”

A raspy voice emerged from the monstrous shell, and the creature atop the villa roof, having witnessed the entire scene, watched as each player exited the stage he’d prepared, and expressed his satisfaction.

Lingling Liu felt the gaze upon her; accustomed to strange stalkers in life, she was especially sensitive to eyes fixed on her.

She followed the direction of her intuition, and, unsurprisingly, saw no one. She wasn’t disappointed by the empty scene; a worthy adversary made the game exhilarating.

Lingling Liu was certain that next time, she would spot the hidden observer in advance. She gazed deeply at Ye Hui, who led the way ahead—there was no doubt, the target was him.

Now, with only two sentient beings remaining, Lingling Liu ruled herself out, leaving Ye Hui as the sole candidate.

Due to her own circumstances, if the observer targeted her, she would inevitably react. The strength of the enemy would determine the intensity of her response.

It was a skill she’d awakened: to sense malicious eyes upon herself. Its effect was simple, but quite practical.

She knew that the initial skill awakened by a ghost was related to their cause of death. Lingling Liu had never revealed her skill to others, because people could deduce the cause of death from its effect.

And death was always a ghost’s indelible pain, never something they wished to revisit. The birth of a ghost was accompanied by overwhelming negative emotion; few who died peacefully ever became evil spirits.

Lingling Liu’s gaze landed on the spot where the monster had stood. Only a thin veil of mist remained, along with a few fragments of white skin.

Ye Hui, confused, turned to look at the dazed Lingling Liu, and gently called to her. They ought to leave this place of trouble quickly, before further complications arose.

He was grateful the police hadn’t insisted on taking his statement, and he certainly wouldn’t volunteer to invite more trouble.

Both tacitly ignored the matter; as part of their unspoken agreement, neither inquired too deeply into the other’s reasons for coming here—perhaps the very essence of adult understanding.

At that moment, the wail of fire engine sirens rang out. Hearing it, their steps quickened; this was best left to professionals.