Before the Fatty could take a closer look, a hand seized his own—or, more precisely, three fingers. Luo Tianhe seemed to casually move the Fatty's hand away from the bookshelf without alerting anyone. But only the Fatty knew how much strength those three fingers held.
The Fatty immediately realized something was wrong with the bookshelf, but he couldn't let the others know he was onto it.
Then, as if nothing had happened, the Fatty obediently withdrew his hand and continued following the others.
After making a round of the room, Luo Tianhe gave a slight shake of his head, his voice tinged with disappointment. "Second Young Master, let's go."
"Did any of you masters find anything?"
"Nothing so far."
After receiving their answer, the Second Young Master led them out of the storeroom. The moment they stepped outside, they could see Mr. Wu's corpse pointing toward them in the distance. A sudden gust of wind seemed to come from nowhere, and several candles in the hall flickered before going out.
The hall plunged into darkness. Only the candle in Laifu's hand continued to burn faintly.
Without needing to be reminded, everyone instantly grew wary, their eyes instinctively sweeping across the hall. The Eight Immortals table, the grand armchairs, and the other furnishings inside seemed to merge with the darkness, leaving only vague, dark silhouettes.
As the Fatty strained to make out his surroundings, his body suddenly shuddered. He had noticed something terrifying: the rigid figure in the distance... was gone!
"Gone" might have been an overstatement. It was simply his first instinct. In any case, that spot had blended into the darkness around it, making it impossible to tell whether the corpse was still there.
Judging from everyone's reactions, they had all noticed, but no one said a word.
In