The Hunt!?

Zhang Anzai let out a long breath as he walked out of the largest exhibition hall among the several inner rooms.

Set design for film and television was genuinely fascinating. Compared to the large prop warehouses in Hengdian or Hollywood, this one was modest in scale. Those places usually had multiple floors and hundreds of thousands of props.

But for Zhang Anzai, that was a good thing.

As he'd passed through the exhibition hall, he'd had no interest in looking at the Tang and Song dynasty sets, or the classical Ming and Qing ones, let alone the later Republican-era and modern scenes.

One set after another made it feel as if you could just set up a camera and start filming. Zhang Anzai, however, had only worried that something strange might suddenly dart out from a corner.

After all, this was a dungeon. The area around him was pitch-black, and he could see nothing. It seemed as though the only thing keeping him company was the dust floating through the air in the beam of his flashlight.

But when he thought back to what had happened earlier, he couldn't shake the feeling that the Human-Faced Dog was still watching him from the shadows. It left him uneasy, convinced that something about the surroundings was off.

Still, no matter what, Zhang Anzai had made it out of the exhibition hall safe and sound.

Without realizing it, he tucked the bronze prop sword under his arm, then wiped the sweat from his palms.

He'd checked more than half the place. All that remained were the few workshops over there.

Zhang Anzai tried to keep a normal pace as he approached, one step at a time.

The area around him was still quiet. It seemed the only sounds were his footsteps and the slight rattling of the metal grilles in the factory's ventilation ducts as the wind stirred them.

Breathing in the dry air, tinged with the woody dust of all the wooden tables and chairs stored here, Zhang Anzai took a deep breath and swept his flashlight toward the corridor by the workshops.

Several old wooden doors stood on either side of the corridor, spaced somewhat unevenly. Since this was an old warehouse, the place looked like a building from the last century.

The flashlight, growing dimmer as its battery ran low, couldn't reach the end of the corridor. But before the beam got there, it was blocked by the silhouette of someone standing in its path.

"!" Zhang Anzai instinctively held his breath.

The person standing in front of the last workshop door, however, looked more or less normal.

The same pallid skin, the same messy hair. It was Mr. Li, wearing a leather apron.

He pulled a cloth from his apron pocket and wiped his hands. There were plenty of scarlet marks on both the cloth and his hands.

Some red smears seemed to have gotten on his arms and face as well, where they hadn't been fully wiped away.

"Over there... have you finished checking?" Mr. Li asked Zhang Anzai with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

The flashlight beam was already blurry by the time it reached him, but Zhang Anzai could clearly see him casting a pointed glance at the Bronze Sword in his hand.

Zhang Anzai looked around, confirming that the strange dog wasn't nearby and that Mr. Li hadn't pulled out any equipment or suddenly transformed into a dungeon boss to hunt him down. Then he replied with forced composure:

"Yeah, I checked everywhere. Nothing happened. One of the blood packs had burst, probably chewed up by a rat. I've already cleaned it up."

Mr. Li smiled and nodded. "Good. Lots of students have worked under me, and you've done quite well."

As he opened the door to his workshop, he added, "Take a look at those other workshops. Those people are always so careless. They often forget to turn off the machines and things like that."

Zhang Anzai nodded obediently, like an ordinary student, then watched Mr. Li close the door.

"Phew..."

With a grave expression, Zhang Anzai took out his key and unlocked the first prop-room door on the left.

Elsewhere, Mr. Li paced briskly around his workshop, which looked like a dissection room.

The strange Human-Faced Dog sat crouched in a corner, twitching its two elongated, drooping ears.

It watched as Mr. Li, wearing a perfectly genuine smile, paced around the room, then selected tools from the rows of knives on the wall, one after another, and hung them on his leather apron.

"And now... the main event!" Mr. Li exclaimed, looking thoroughly excited. He turned and walked over to the two enormous racks in the corner.

His gaze swept across the shelves row by row, and his expression changed again and again as he admired certain things displayed there.

His look was complicated: proud, gratified, excited, and tinged with a kind of obsession.

Eagerly, he moved his fingers up and down as he chose. Then, unable to wait any longer, he took something from the rack and examined it from both sides. Still busy with his hands, he headed toward the door.

As he moved, his actions grew bizarre, as if some strange creature were learning how to use the human body it had just taken over.

His steps were uncoordinated, his stride unnaturally awkward. His waist, neck, and even his hands all moved differently each time, as though every limb were acting on its own.

Yet as he neared the door, his movements gradually became more and more coordinated and normal. His back straightened, his pace became precise, and he seemed less dejected overall.

He opened the door with an elegant motion, drew a knife from his leather apron, and examined it from either side.

He moved silently and strode over to the nearest workshop door.

He pushed it open without hesitation. It was unlocked, and his light touch seemed to make no sound.

Inside, a somewhat dim work lamp illuminated only a small area around the workbench.

As soon as he entered, he could see fabric hanging or piled up all around.

There was even a large board with unfinished fabric stretched across it, covered in examples of different materials.

Several sewing machines stood at the workbench.

This was a fabric workshop, where they made custom clothing and other brocade props.

The window didn't seem to be fully closed. The hanging half-finished bolts of cloth and silk swayed from time to time, making the room look rather eerie.

Through the fabrics, in the light of the work lamp, Mr. Li and the Human-Faced Dog at his feet could both see what was inside.

A figure stood in the room, holding a piece of white silk fabric up to the light.

The material was so fine that even the weak light showed the silhouette behind it.

Both hands raised, the figure examined it carefully.

"What a diligent student. But... what a pity."

Mr. Li's lips curled into a strange smile. For some reason, his mouth seemed able to stretch all the way to his ears.

And as his face moved, some strange liquid seemed to trickle slowly down his neck from his head.

It smelled salty and rank, and it was bright red.