For a while, the atmosphere at the art exhibition seemed to settle into a delicate calm.
Madam Funair devoted more of her energy to the social scene's true "battleground"—the web of relationships and interests.
With Yu Xing on her arm, she fluttered like a butterfly through her own flower garden, gracefully weaving among the various circles of high society.
"Officer Brown, I believe we need to give the funding proposal for the new security posts in the East District some more consideration..."
"Mr. Wilson, I heard you've run into some trouble with your textile supplies lately. I know a few merchants from the north and might be able to introduce you..."
"Mr. Raphael, that Renaissance silverware set you admired last time reminds me of one in my father's collection. Perhaps I could have someone appraise it for you another day..."
Her words were always tactful. She alternated between applying pressure and offering goodwill, wielding her connections and resources as if they were in the palm of her hand. Yu Xing played the role of escort and bodyguard to perfection, standing half a step beside her and occasionally joining the conversation.
Many people were interested in the investigators. They were curious about their work and envious of their social standing.
As he dealt with some unnecessary conversations, Yu Xing's tongue... no, his tentacles were busy, too, silently "cleaning" the remaining non-core paintings in the exhibition hall.
The cores of spiritual contamination lurking beneath the colors and lines were plucked out one by one, devoured, and annihilated as if they had encountered their natural enemy. The entire process was silent, and only the paintings' mesmerizing allure quietly faded away.
As time passed, more and more guests began to lose interest.
The lively discussions gradually gave way to more practical business conversations or