The authorities had not yet reached a conclusion about the incident.
But the public wasn't the authorities.
They didn't need evidence.
Even rumors and hearsay could be spun into convincing stories, let alone a real case with such undeniably strange aspects.
Besides.
Most importantly.
It had happened in the neighborhood next door.
Two residents had died.
And one security guard.
Whether they were residents or security personnel from nearby communities, it would cause tremendous psychological pressure.
On top of that.
Rumors of hauntings had been cropping up everywhere lately.
Even those who had never believed in ghosts—the bros who used to shout that materialists feared nothing—would now press their palms together and lower their brows, meekly muttering:
"I've learned my lesson."
"Please let me go."
In such an environment.
Not only would residents refuse to go out late at night, but security guards would also run at the first sign of anything strange.
And so.
The scene before them had come to pass.
When the security guard sitting in the booth saw a man carrying a black plastic bag and staggering toward him, he quickly stood up, left the guard post, and walked toward the interior of the complex.
Judging from the photo inside the guard booth.
The security guard's surname was Niu. His name was Niu Dali.
Dali meant "great strength."
That didn't necessarily mean he had much strength.
As the saying went, people made up for what they lacked. When they had nothing, they tended to care about it most.
His name was Dali.
But he was under 1.7 meters tall.
He probably weighed sixty kilograms.
His only advantage in applying to be a security guard was that his salary demands were relatively low.
The company was overjoyed.
It wasn't some high-end residential complex, anyway.
Practicality was what