Hunt!?

Zhang Anzai let out a long breath and walked out of the largest display hall among the inner chambers.

Film prop sets were indeed quite interesting, but to be honest, the scale of this prop warehouse was average compared to the massive ones at Hengdian or even Hollywood, where most places had more than one floor and hundreds of thousands of items.

However, this was certainly a good thing for Zhang Anzai.

Having just passed through the display hall, he had absolutely no mood to observe the Tang, Song, Ming, and Qing classical sets, let alone the Republic of China and modern ones further back.

Scene after scene felt as if one could simply set up a camera and start filming immediately, yet Zhang Anzai only worried about whether something wrong would suddenly spring out from the corners.

After all, this was a dungeon; the surroundings were pitch black, nothing could be seen clearly, and the only thing accompanying him seemed to be the dust floating in the air, illuminated by his flashlight.

Yet, recalling his previous encounter, he couldn't help but feel that the Human-Faced Dog was still watching him from the shadows, making him feel like he was sitting on pins and needles, convinced that the surrounding environment was not quite right.

Regardless, Zhang Anzai had ultimately left the display hall safely, without any mishaps.

He subconsciously tucked the bronze prop sword under his arm and wiped the cold sweat from his hands.

With the majority of the area checked, only the few workshops over there remained.

Zhang Anzai maintained a normal pace, approaching the area step by step.

The surroundings remained deathly quiet, with only his footsteps and the slight rattling of the metal grilles in the factory ventilation ducts caused by the wind.

Smelling the scent of wood dust in the dry air—a byproduct of the large quantity of wooden tables and chairs stored there—Zhang Anzai took a deep breath and swept his flashlight toward the corridor of the workshops.

Several old wooden doors were arranged asymmetrically along both sides of the corridor; because it was an old warehouse, it looked like a building from the last century.

The flashlight, growing dimmer as its battery drained, could not reach the end of the corridor, but before he could get there, the light was blocked by a figure standing there.

"!" Zhang Anzai held his breath involuntarily.

However, the person standing in front of the workshop door at the end looked barely normal.

With the same pale skin and messy hair, it was Mr. Li, wearing a leather apron.

He pulled a cloth from the pocket of his apron to wipe his hands. Both the rag and his hands were stained with quite a few scarlet marks.

Even his arms and face seemed to be smeared with red stains that hadn't been wiped clean.

"Finished... patrolling over there?" Mr. Li asked Zhang Anzai with a half-smile.

Although the flashlight beam was somewhat blurry by the time it reached him, Zhang Anzai clearly saw his gaze flick meaningfully toward the bronze sword in his hand.

Zhang Anzai looked left and right, confirming that the eerie dog was not nearby and that Mr. Li hadn't pulled out any equipment to transform into a dungeon boss on the spot to hunt him down, so he feigned composure and replied:

"Yeah, I've checked everything. Nothing's wrong, just a blood bag that burst—probably chewed by rats. I've already cleaned it up."

Mr. Li nodded with a smile: "Good. Many students have worked under me, and you've performed quite well."

As he spoke, he opened the door to his own workshop and suggested: "Go check those workshops over there. This bunch is always so sloppy with their work, often forgetting to turn off machines and the like."

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

"Phew..."

Zhang Anzai's expression turned grave as he took out the key and opened the door to the first prop room on the left.

On the other side, in his workshop that resembled an anatomy lab, Mr. Li spun around with light footsteps.

The eerie Human-Faced Dog twitched its two elongated, drooping human ears and sat crouched in the corner.

It watched as Mr. Li wore a truly genuine smile, spun around the room a few times, and then grabbed handful after handful of knives arranged on the wall, taking them down to hang on his leather apron.

"And then... this is the main event!" With an expression of intense interest, Mr. Li turned and walked to the corner, in front of two massive shelves on the left and right.

His gaze swept over the shelves row by row, his expression changing time and again as he admired certain things on them.

The look was incredibly complex—pride, relief, excitement, and even a touch of madness.

He wiggled his fingers with great enthusiasm, picking and choosing, before impatiently taking something off the shelf and examining it from both sides. Then, while continuing his movements, he walked toward the door.

During this process, his movements began to become extremely bizarre, as if an alien creature were becoming familiar with the human body it had just occupied.

His gait was uncoordinated, his stride was incredibly strange, and even his waist, spine, and hands each moved differently, as if every limb were acting on its own.

Yet, as he approached the door, his movements began to become coordinated and normal, step by step. His back straightened more than before, his pace became incredibly precise, and his entire demeanor seemed less decadent.

He opened the door with elegant movements, drew a blade from his leather apron, and examined it from both sides.

His footsteps were silent as he strode toward the first workshop door.

He pushed the door open decisively; it wasn't locked, and because of his light movements, it seemed to make no sound.

Inside the room, a dim work lamp was on, illuminating only a small area around the workbench.

Upon entering, one could see many fabrics hanging or piled up to the left and right.

There was even a large board with unfinished fabric stretched across it, plastered with many different fabric patterns.

The workbench over there was occupied by several sewing machines.

This was a fabric workshop, specialized in custom clothing or other textile props.

The window in the room didn't seem to be closed tightly, and the hanging semi-finished silk fabrics occasionally swayed, looking quite eerie.

Through these fabrics, aided by the light in the room, Mr. Li, who had walked into the workshop, and the Human-Faced Dog at his feet could be seen.

Inside the room, a figure stood facing the lamp, holding up a piece of white, silk-textured fabric.

The material was so fine that even with the dim light, the silhouette of the person behind it could be seen.

With hands raised high, he examined it carefully.

"Truly a studious and good student, but... what a pity."

The corners of Mr. Li's mouth curled into a grotesque arc; for some reason, his lips stretched all the way to his earlobes.

And as his face moved, a strange liquid, seemingly originating from his head, slowly trickled down his neck.

The scent was briny and fishy, the color a vivid red.