"Impossible! Gao Ming should be dead! This corpse is attracting Gao Ming's Posthumous Photograph. This corpse is Gao Ming's!" Yuan Hui blurted out loudly. It wasn't that he couldn't control his emotions—the scene before him was simply too incomprehensible.
The Jingtuo God and the General Investigation Bureau had made it perfectly clear: only Gao Ming's corpse could attract the Posthumous Photograph. Where had things gone wrong?
"What are you yelling about?" Painter Gao Ming didn't know what Yuan Hui had done. All he knew was that Yuan Hui was standing in the middle, getting in the way of his conversation with Zhuo Jun.
Everyone around them saw that utterly dismissive attitude, as though no one else mattered.
"Gao Ming isn't dead? Then the corpse is fake?"
"I told you there was more to the Deadwater Forum than meets the eye. Not one of those people in Class Thirteen is easy to deal with."
"How did someone like that get into the Investigation Bureau's Security Department? I guess there are people getting in through connections everywhere."
The murmurs grew noticeably louder. With Gao Ming's arrival, the Ghost Story Players seemed to have found someone to rally around, and they were no longer afraid of the Investigation Bureau.
"Gao Ming is already dead. You're not Gao Ming! Tell us! Who are you really?" Yuan Hui couldn't accept it. Recalling everything he'd just said, his face flushed crimson. The more he'd enjoyed himself before, the more miserable he felt now.
Painter Gao Ming was different from the other Gao Mings. Inside, he really wasn't Gao Ming, but Xia Yang. However, only he knew that secret.
Hearing Yuan Hui's utterly certain accusation, Painter Gao Ming narrowed his eyes. Killing intent had already surfaced deep in his pupils, yet the smile on his face grew