"Enemies might come to the Detective Agency, be cautious and watch the outside. Leave a living witness if possible."
As the black luxury car behind him drove away, Lu Li made a phone call to the Detective Agency.
"I’ll have a surprise for you, remember to come back early," Kong Nanqing replied.
Lu Li hung up the phone and looked up.
Outside, a light rain started falling, and the radio issued a yellow rainstorm warning: a heavy rainstorm tonight.
Through the drizzle, the sky hung down phantom blood-colored tentacles, looming. Lu Li barely identified the nearest location of these tentacles and drove there.
The afternoon rain made the city’s visibility even lower.
Misty rain spread across the city, shrouding it like fog.
In the residential area of the electric factory, a black luxury car parked under building 10.
"This is the place mentioned in the information."
A neutral voice sounded, followed by an elderly voice.
"Ding’er, you can still repent now. Although we cultivators act against heaven, senseless slaughter does us no good."
"I know, you’ve advised me many times. But he knows you, if news leaks..."
"Sigh..." A sigh came from the ring.
Martin shook his head slightly. Master, you are too merciful. Which cultivator is not fighting with people and heaven? If one does not contend, how can one seize a glimmer of heavenly fortunes?
Being well-versed in countless novels in the information age, Martin knew all too well the evil of human hearts. If you don’t kill, you’ll be killed. To survive, you can only constantly save yourself! If an enemy obstructs, eliminate his entire family. If the land obstructs, break it apart. If the gods and demons of the sky obstruct, slaughter them all!
"So, what do you plan to do? Leave explosives at his home or ambush him when he returns?"
"Explosives are tricky to handle. If an ambush follows and that spiteful spirit comes back with him... Eh? Master, how do you know about explosives?"
"Cough cough..." The elderly voice in the ring coughed dryly and said ambiguously, "Your master has lived on Earth for decades at least, surely acquainted with these things."
"No wonder..." Martin nodded in realization, suspecting nothing.
The elderly voice quickly chimed in, "So Ding’er, what method do you plan to use to eliminate the hidden threat?"
"I intend to make him live perpetually in fear," Martin’s lips curled coldly.
The interior light turned on.
Martin took a stack of paper and pen from the storage box, uncapped the pen, and leaned on the steering wheel, writing a line on an A4 paper, muttering word by word: "You... might not... remember... me, but I... still... remember... you... You... discovered... my... secret, and... this... is... a warning."
He pursed his lips, his eyes filled with seriousness as he wrote on the paper with one stroke at a time.
"If you try to tell others, I will take your head from a thousand miles away... head... head Master, which character is ’head’?"
"Gather? The top has an extra horizontal, and the bottom is wood."
"Oh... gather... No, Master, this seems to be wrong."
"Cough cough... Your master still doesn’t understand your Earth’s writing."
"No problem, I’ll check on my phone."
Martin wasn’t bothered, he took out his phone to search for the correct character for ’head’, realized it and put down the phone, erased the typo, and wrote the correct character.
Exhaling a light breath, Martin capped the pen, picked up the A4 paper, and shook it lightly, admiring the result.
"Master, look. When this note appears in his home unknowingly, do you think he’ll be terrified and unable to sleep peacefully?"
"Uh... probably." Witnessing the whole process, Old Jie couldn’t hide the astonishment in his tone: "Disciple, weren’t you intending to kill him before?"
"Of course, but I’m not stupid. It’s a society ruled by law; killing is illegal." Martin sneered, a hint of pride in his eyes.
"Warn him first, and if he still doesn’t know better... since I can spend fifty thousand to buy his information, I can spend another fifty thousand to buy his life. Master, money moves hearts."
Martin folded the threat note, tangible menace surging around him, and he stepped out of the car, walking into the hallway, swallowed by darkness.
"Master, are there ghost creatures inside?"
In the dim, humid corridor, a shadowy outline murmured in a neutral tone.
The ring on his hand glowed eerily, and a weak elderly voice replied, "I can’t sense them, but don’t be careless... That man is quite remarkable."
"No matter how remarkable, he’s just a mortal, living for merely a hundred years."
Martin sneered, approaching the door labeled [The Weird And Multicolored Detective Agency].
Quietly listening outside for moments, it was silent inside.
He reached for the door handle, finding it locked, but was undeterred. He turned on his phone light and tip-toed, brushing over the doorframe.
A layer of dust fell, causing Martin to wrinkle his brow and scatter the dust. He then squatted and lifted the carpet.
A silver key glittered under the carpet.
"Found it. Ha... to make such a foolish mistake. Is someone even worthy to be my opponent?"
With a light snicker, Martin inserted the key into the lock, with a click, the door opened slightly.
Martin walked calmly into the Detective Agency, glancing around, his gaze briefly pausing on an odd portrait on the sofa before moving away, heading towards the desk.
At the moment he turned his head, the eyes in the oil painting eerily moved, following Martin.
Throwing the threat note onto the desk, Martin suddenly felt a bit disappointed.
He thought it would be an interesting opponent, but it turned out to be someone with mere power, yet just a simple mortal.
Just then, he heard a loud shout from behind him from his master!
"Bold ghost creature, appearing even during the day! Today I’ll have your spirit scattered! Sword Control Technique!"
Suddenly, he turned his head, pupils contracting.
Somehow, a figure as black as charred stood at the bedroom door, looking quietly.
And before Martin, a phantom elder appeared, a small sword emitting yin energy hovered before the elder, buzzing.
Martin was momentarily dazed, seeing his master emerge from the ring for the first time.
As he was briefly lost in thought, a sudden shout rang in his ear: "It’s a spiteful spirit. My power hasn’t even recovered one percent and I’m no match. Disciple, run, I’ll delay it!"
Martin gritted his teeth in discontent, taking a deep look at the charred figure, then fled outside.
Seeing his disciple escape, the phantom elder sighed in relief, exhaling exhaustively: "Indeed, only that move can work..."
Swiftly, his hands came together, knees bent to the ground, spine curled, head and palms slapped the ground as he shouted.
"Spare me, beautiful lady!"