The weak door lock couldn't stop the cultists of the Calamity Corpse Sect.
With a simple touch from his mutated black hand, No. 2 shattered the lock cylinder.
A sticky, wet liquid clung to the doorknob and was quickly air-dried by the cold, turning into a strange layer like dehydrated... human skin?
If Feng Mu were here, he might recognize that wet liquid as the corpse oil shed when Calamity Corpses are burned.
"Are you sure the target lives in this room?"
The receiver pushed open the bedroom door, observing the room for a while, frowning slightly.
The dust on the desk suggested there used to be a computer there, and the clothes in the wardrobe were pushed aside, indicating that other things were originally piled inside but are now missing.
The receiver crouched down suspiciously and pulled out a rusty iron nail from the corner of the wardrobe.
He compared the rusty nail to the wardrobe, finding the size didn't match at all.
