Fu Qian was quite sure that his sleeping posture just now had been flawless. There was no way anyone could have recognized him.
So, if the person in the shadows had been after him, there would have been no need to hide and wait. It would have been much simpler to come straight to his door and kill him.
That fierce hunting posture made it clear that someone else was the target.
This was a real hunt. The Cult seemed to want him to observe it properly as a bystander.
Fu Qian had no objection to watching a show.
After admiring the night scenery for less than ten seconds, he put on his coat and stepped into this unpeopled nightmare.
Downstairs, everything was still in perfect order. He could even see the bills Mrs. Harper had sorted before going to bed.
Aside from targets like himself, who had been chosen, it seemed that only living beings had been excluded.
It was a rather good method, minimizing the risk of collateral damage as much as possible, especially in a place like this.
As he admired the approach, Fu Qian had already opened the door and stepped outside.
Without even bothering to conceal his unusually steady steps, he calmly surveyed his surroundings.
Whatever the Cult's specific plan was, this was the time to establish his character. He was someone whose mind couldn't keep up, who mistook the fake for the real and the real for the fake.
Knowing it was fake, why should he be afraid?
Putting on an anxious act would only make the Cult think his resolve was weak, and that this strong medicine, intended to fight poison with poison, had made him question his sanity.
And that was pointless. What he wanted was an even stronger dose.
Creak!