Chapter 239: Elegant and Mad

This sudden scene left everyone nearby stunned. Ever since the lights went out, everything unfolding before their eyes had been assaulting their understanding, leaving their minds largely frozen. But as the "drumming" accompaniment of the violin cracking skulls began, they finally managed to snap back to reality, a raw and intense fear surging through them.

"A madman... it's a madman from the Dusk Society!!""The prosecutor has been possessed by Spade 6!! Run!!""I don't want to die... I don't want to die!!!"

The terrified screams made Old Ding tremble all over. Several reporters around him bravely scrambled to their feet and rushed towards the main door. But when he tried to move, he found he had no strength. A warm sensation flowed between his legs; he had been so scared that he lost control of his bladder.

It was then that Old Ding saw the figure, violin in hand like a devil, vanish again, only to reappear like a phantom, chasing down and knocking over each of the fleeing people.

A series of loud thuds followed, and within mere seconds, Old Ding was the only conscious person left in the hall.

Crimson blood silently flowed across the hall. The figure slowly walked among the groaning, writhing bodies, casually overturning a table laden with candles. The flickering flames ignited the news drafts scattered everywhere, and instantly, fiery butterflies, feeding on slander and false accusations, filled the entire hall.

*Screech—Screech—*

The figure rested the largely shattered, blood-stained violin beneath their chin, and the long bow once again drew out a bizarre and discordant melody. With every step they took, a reporter's hand bones were crushed, eliciting sharp, agonizing wails.

Amidst the dancing fire butterflies and bloody reflections, a primal aesthetic of violence intertwined with the eerie acoustics of the performance, elevating to its extreme.

After half a piece of music, all the reporters present had their hands crushed, ensuring they would never be able to hold a pen or write another word. The intense pain left them all unconscious. Under Old Ding's terrified gaze, the figure, elegantly playing the violin, had already crossed the hall and stood before him.

*Bzzzt—!*

With a piercing hum as a string snapped, the eerie melody abruptly ceased!

The embers of the fire butterflies dissolved into the pools of blood, and the brightly lit hall slowly returned to darkness. Old Ding watched as the face gradually sank into shadow, and a question, as if from the underworld, emerged:"...Did I play well?"

Old Ding couldn't utter a single word. His teeth chattered uncontrollably. Everyone around him seemed to have been trampled to death, and he knew he would surely be next.

Perhaps it was a burst of potential in the face of death, but Old Ding let out a shriek and, with a surge of unknown strength, scrambled up from the floor, then bolted towards the corridor without looking back.

This time, Chen Ling did not stop him.He watched Old Ding's retreating back, a playful smile curling his lips. He wouldn't let Old Ding off so easily, as the man still had some use.

Chen Ling peeled off "Fang Lichang"'s face, then unhurriedly walked through the silent pools of blood to the door. He picked up the camera from a nearby table, casually aimed it at the hall behind him and the Spade 6 symbols strewn across the floor, and pressed the shutter.

*Click—*

The flash of the camera brightly illuminated the dark hall for a moment.

Chen Ling then dragged all the unconscious individuals out of the room, loaded them into carts used for transporting dishes, glanced at the empty hall, and elegantly and lightly closed the door behind them.

Meli Hotel, side entrance.A group of thugs huddled, shivering, in the cold wind.

"Boss, why'd you call us here to wait in the middle of the night? What's the job?""Yeah... at this hour, even dogs are asleep!""Isn't this a fancy hotel? The person we're supposed to beat up this time isn't some big shot, is he?"

The thugs asked, rubbing their frozen, red hands, as their boss squatted on a large rock, a cigarette dangling from his mouth, also frowning as he looked at the dark hotel before them.

"Just stay put. We're not beating anyone today!""Not beating anyone? Then what are we here for?"

Just as the thug boss was about to say something, a figure dressed in a waiter's uniform slowly emerged from the side entrance, pushing a cart. He blinked and squinted, realizing it was none other than the reporter Lin Yan, and immediately perked up.

"Boss, I called everyone as you instructed!" the thug boss said, walking closer."Good," Chen Ling replied calmly. "Take the people in these carts back, find a place to tie them up, and if anyone starts to wake up, knock them unconscious with a stick. Then, release them promptly at seven o'clock tomorrow morning. Understand?"

The thug boss paused, bewildered. He'd been in this line of work for a long time, but this was the first time he'd encountered a kidnapping with so many specific instructions... even the release time was set?

Chen Ling casually pulled out several banknotes from his pocket and handed them to the thug boss. "The payment for finding those people last time, and for this job, is all here. Take it, and make sure your men keep quiet about this."

The thug boss's eyes widened when he saw the amount on the banknotes. He immediately stammered:"Bo... Boss, these two small jobs don't cost this much...""No need for change."

Chen Ling waved his hand, his gaze flicking towards the direction Old Ding had gone, his eyes narrowing slightly."Get to work. I have other matters to attend to..."

His figure gradually disappeared at the end of the street.

Watching Chen Ling's retreating figure, the thug boss could only think "big profit." A subordinate walked up, saw the amount on the banknotes, and also widened his eyes in disbelief."Boss, this guy's way too generous... Can we really take this much money?""Yes! Why wouldn't we?""Didn't you say that when you're in the underworld, you have to be trustworthy, and not take more than you're owed...?""That's when we're demanding payment from others. This time, the boss voluntarily gave us extra tip. Is that the same thing??"

The thug leader solemnly tucked the banknotes into his pocket. His gaze then went to the carts, and he stepped forward to remove the tablecloths covering them. Seeing the ten miserable-looking figures crammed inside, his heart gave a slight leap."Whoa, what kind of background does this boss have? He's so ruthless!" a nearby subordinate exclaimed, wide-eyed."Don't pry into what you shouldn't," the thug leader said, delivering a slap.

"All of you, get to work! Make sure you do a clean job this time. The boss said they can't wake up, so not a single one of them better wake up! No sleeping tonight. All of you, wait with your sticks ready. If anyone shows signs of waking, give them two good whacks first, got it?""Got it!!"