Translator: CinderTL
Jiang Cheng nodded, signaling that he understood Luo He's meaning. He then turned to Luo He and asked, "What do you think about what happened at the Feng Family Mansion?"
"The mansion was occupied by the Feng family. There was someone behind every door, but they're all dead," Luo He replied. "Just like him."
Luo He gestured with his eyes, clearly indicating that he meant they were all dead like the two people lying on the ground.
"The entire Feng family wiped out?" Pi Ruan exclaimed, as if the thought had genuinely frightened him.
"I don't think so. The Feng family is so big, there must be plenty of people still alive," Fatty chimed in, echoing Pi Ruan's concern. He then turned to Jiang Cheng. "Besides, Director Qiao said that if things dragged on, the Feng family would be wiped out. That means there are still some Feng family members alive right now."
Jiang Cheng remained unfazed by this, but Fu Fu grinned and sized up Fatty from head to toe. "Don't listen to them. Just treat their words like farting."
Fatty, clearly taken aback by the cute girl's unexpected vulgarity, didn't know how to respond.
But Fu Fu only said this much before letting it go.
"You can come see for yourselves. I took some photos before we left," Luo He's voice cut through the air at that moment.
He pulled out a phone from his pocket, turned it on, and held the screen up to Jiang Cheng.
The phone displayed a photo of Linghu Yong.
They had already heard from Huai Yi how bizarre the photo was, but seeing it firsthand made them realize they had underestimated its strangeness.
Linghu Yong, posed in an eerie ritualistic stance, was utterly alien except for his skin. His face wore a grotesque smile, and dried grass spilled from his wounds.
Perhaps it was their preconceived notions, but they saw no joy in Linghu Yong's smile—only terror and agony.
This made them wonder: What had he seen in his final moments?
Jiang Cheng took Luo He's phone and scrolled through the photos one by one.
There were about a dozen in total, and besides Linghu Yong, all the subjects were unfamiliar faces.
They ranged from young men in their twenties to middle-aged men in their forties, and even an old man with sunken eye sockets who could barely stand without his cane.
Without exception, all of them were dressed in luxurious clothing.
And like Linghu Yong, they were all in the same state: nothing but their tattered skin and the dried grass stuffed beneath it.
Stiff, vacant, rigid, sinister—all these words combined still couldn't fully capture their eerie nature.
It was clear they were all members of the Feng family, and the old man among them was likely Master Feng, the true head of the Feng Family.
But judging by the scene before them, Jiang Cheng's speculation had come true: the entire Feng family was dead.
Jiang Cheng paused before a photograph of a young man in his early thirties. He recognized the man—he'd seen him just days ago in the police station's basement. If he remembered correctly, his name was Feng Delin, Master Feng's third son.
Now, it seemed the entire Feng family had reunited in the afterlife.
As Jiang Cheng pondered this, a hand reached out and grasped his phone, as if to take it away. Normally, he wouldn't have allowed it, but upon seeing the hand, he willingly released his grip.
"Is there a problem?" Jiang Cheng tilted his head, glancing at Lin Wan'er's profile.
Lin Wan'er lowered her head, her eyebrows twitching slightly before returning to normal. "We've seen these photos before."
"Seen them? Where?" Zhao Xingguo, his eyes still red, stood up from the ground, his emotions returning to normal. He was the only one left. He had just examined Linghu Yong, and his condition was the same as Pan Du's—a state of living death. They had heartbeats, but their bodies were cold, they weren't breathing, and no cadaveric lividity had yet appeared.
If the Ghost really was connected to the deity in the Shinto shrine as Yangzi had said, then Linghu Yong and Pan Du weren't truly dead. They were trapped in a dream.
That meant if they acted fast enough, there was still a chance to revive them.
Staring intently at the screen, Jiang Cheng seemed to have a sudden realization. He lowered his voice and said, "It's that photography studio."
His words sent ripples through the group. Fu Fu widened her eyes and stepped forward, examining the screen for a moment before shedding her usual flippant demeanor. She turned to Luo He, confirming, "It really is. It's definitely that photography studio's style."
Hearing this, Fatty suddenly exclaimed, "Right! Do you remember what we saw on the wall of that photography studio?"
"Photos of Japanese people!"
It was those photos that had first drawn their attention to the studio.
If Wu Dali hadn't coincidentally emerged from the studio, interrupting their plans, they would have gone inside to teach the boss a lesson.
Several photos of Japanese people were plastered on the glass wall outside the studio's gate. It seemed the studio's boss had once been very close to them.
The photography studio, those strange photos, the deceased members of the Feng family, the Japanese people, and even Wu Ergou and Wu Dali, who had brought them here—all these scattered clues suddenly converged.
There was no time to waste. Everyone immediately began formulating their next course of action.
Jiang Cheng analyzed the current situation, his gaze sweeping across the group. "Based on what we've seen so far, this Ghost's killing method involves illusions, dreams, and even manipulating and infiltrating our perceptions without alerting anyone nearby."
This wasn't difficult to deduce. Linghu Yong and Pan Du weren't fools; they wouldn't have wandered off on their own.
In other words, they had been killed in relatively safe environments.
Pan Du, in particular, had died in his own bed.
Considering the background of the nursery rhyme, Jiang Cheng was confident in guessing that they had likely been lured into a dream by the Ghost and then killed within it.
Jiang Cheng glanced out the window. Through the gap, it was still quite dark. "Dawn hasn't fully broken yet. Once it's completely light, we'll split up."
"I'll go find Yangzi and ask about the Shinto shrine. You two go to the photography studio. No matter what, you must find the Boss and ask him about the origin of the photo." Jiang Cheng paused, turning to Luo He.
"I doubt the Boss will be cooperative, considering the history between the Japanese and us..." Huai Yi began, his voice tinged with worry.
But before he could finish, Fu Fu cut him off with a cold laugh and a dismissive glance. "Don't worry about that. Once we find him, I have plenty of ways to make him talk."
Their eyes met for a fleeting moment, and a sudden wave of fear washed over Huai Yi. His slightly parted lips snapped shut.
"What information could Yangzi possibly have?" Fatty scoffed. "She's just an ordinary Japanese woman, struggling to survive."
"We can ask her why the Feng family is supporting them," Lin Wan'er said, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "And more importantly, who is this person... really?"
(End of the Chapter)
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