The eccentric doctor never makes a misdiagnosis!

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The person who moved the cargo boxes did not actually do anything wrong.

The fallacy stems from their code of conduct, which has never made a mistake before.

Originally, these paintings could only take away other people's senses and skin by following conditions such as "seeing" and "facing". Now, they seem to have given up their passive state and have begun to actively affect their surroundings as if they were alive.

The foreman closed his eyes, bent down, and began to face the direction in which the scroll had fallen, all the while praying and shouting in his heart.

Those eerie blank scrolls possess a strangeness beyond the common sense of esoteric rituals; touching them rashly without the aid of palisade would be fatal. However, if the items left behind in the warehouse were obtained by the hunters, they too would be doomed, and perhaps even more agonizingly.

The instinctive will to survive and the rational will to survive were locked in a struggle, and under immense pressure, the overseer was on the verge of collapse. But a strong inner strength still drove him to continue collecting the scroll.

One picture after another, one picture after another, one picture after another... Okay, they've all been collected.

Each wooden crate contained five scrolls, which he now held close to his chest, the danger temporarily averted. All he had to do next was close his eyes and find a new container to store the scrolls, and the rescue operation would be complete.

I redeemed myself for my negligence.

This averted a potentially disastrous incident.

They salvaged the deal.

Now, all I need to do is find a container, reseal them, and everything will be perfect again. This will just be a slightly thrilling little episode in my career, or perhaps a nightmare that will be forgotten for a long time to come...

The foreman felt genuinely joyful; an overwhelming sense of happiness, so intense it brought tears to his eyes, rose uncontrollably from the bottom of his heart, and he grinned with delight.

Then, he picked up a small but heavy claw hammer and, with incredibly fluid movements, brought it down on the head. A sticky, thick liquid, sometimes crimson, sometimes pale, sometimes colorless and pale yellow, gushed from the jagged seams of the broken skull, covering the scalp and flowing across the ground.

The container is ready.

The middle-aged overseer stiffly reached out and stuffed the canvas scrolls in his arms into his body one by one along the seams of his skull until the skull was completely filled with the scrolls, leaving no gaps.

He now looks like a blooming sunflower, with his torso and limbs as branches and leaves, his collapsed features as buds, and his tattered paintings as petals.

The pungent smell in the air grew stronger.

Vivian's nostrils twitched slightly as she sensed a familiar feeling from the air wafting into the ventilation duct.

Although the agent's sense of smell was not as acutely acute as Heda's, the smell of ink was so distinctive that it was remembered with exceptional clarity and depth, and even if he wanted to forget it in a short period of time, he could not.

This is the scent that Sister Eve exuded after her face was stolen by the "Skin Covering" technique during the Dwyer incident.

"...Has some hidden danger erupted?"

She whispered in short, sharp breaths and kept biting her thumbnail to forcefully suppress the growing panic in her mind.

Vivian sometimes envied Sister Heda. This girl seemed to be able to maintain that calm expression no matter what kind of enemy or unexpected situation she faced. Even when death was imminent, she could face it with equanimity, her body and soul as if cast in iron.

After a brief silence, Vivian felt her thoughts begin to become increasingly chaotic. If she closed her eyes even slightly, she could see something writhing and twisting beneath her eyelids. And her emotions became increasingly difficult to control.

It was the smell of that ink that caused it.

In the blink of an eye, she realized the source of this strange feeling... She was currently in the ventilation duct of the underground warehouse. Most of the escaping gases in this room were flowing towards her location, making the concentration much higher than in other places.

In any case, we must get out of the ventilation duct first.

Vivian pursed her lips with some difficulty, then removed the iron railing of the ventilation duct inlet and lowered it into the warehouse.

Forced by circumstances, even though she was unwilling, she had no choice but to try to break through directly.

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soup!

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Upside Down, Transformation from a Cocoon

From the moment she stepped into the underground factory, Vivian felt an unprecedented calm settle into her chaotic thoughts.

Instead, she had a clear and composed mind... This was probably some kind of instinctive mechanism for bouncing back from rock bottom, which would only be triggered when she was completely exposed to danger.

Vivian landed lightly on the edge of a shelf, then picked up a patch of shadow from the side to cover her body.

The ventilation ducts are rich in ink-smelling gases, and the content of spiritual particles is significantly higher than that in the outside environment. Long-term retention in them may lead to unpredictable adverse effects.

Therefore, the original evacuation plan is no longer feasible.

Almost everyone inside the facility is currently in a state of panic, with their awareness of the outside world at a minimum, and most of them have put on full-face hoods... Even if someone notices a noise in their direction, they cannot identify the person in a short time.

She quickly organized the known information, intending to devise the optimal decision for the current situation.

Located deep within the Addicted Theater, this area is guarded not only by temporary relocation personnel but also by armed guards and mobile sentry posts. To attempt a direct assault based on one's own capabilities... would be extremely risky.

Thoughts raced through my mind, and only a fleeting moment passed.

As Vivian completed her concealment, the leader of the smuggler group suddenly roared. His voice was hoarse and trembling, clearly suppressing fear.

"We're already exposed to the effects of the painting; it's impossible to repackage the goods without damage! Everyone, open fire and suppress them, and while you're at it, look for flammable materials. Find a way to set whatever the foreman is holding on fire..."

"Don't fucking think about running away. If we don't finish our work, everyone will get shot by the theater guards after we leave the warehouse. Purely accidental situations can be considered work-related injuries. Think about it, as long as you live, you can collect the compensation from those unlucky dead guys!"

Clearly, the smuggler's captain was quite experienced in handling dangerous situations, managing to calm his fleeing team members down with just a few words that subtly encouraged them.

Although he has only recovered to the point where he can barely move on his own and is not overwhelmed by panic, it is still quite remarkable.

"boom!"

Perhaps to boost the already exhausted and near-limit morale, he was the first to take off his hood and throw it on the ground, then drew his short double-barreled shotgun from his waist and pulled the trigger toward the overseer.

The gun shot, made of polished steel, shot out with a flash of light and struck him directly in the chest.

The smuggler captain was all too familiar with the power of the object in his hands. Not to mention an adult male, even large beasts like brown bears or lions and tigers could not withstand its enormous kinetic energy; a single hit would almost certainly result in certain death.

Humans, on the other hand, would most likely be shot directly into the air, their flesh and blood turning into mud and their bones crushed into dust at the point of impact.

However, the overseer, who was still in an open-arms position, took the shot straight without reacting except for a slight sway.

Just like the tallest sunflower in the field, which swayed its buds and leaves when a gentle breeze touched it.

The overseer's behavior was indeed quite strange, but the loud gunshots and the smell of gunpowder in the air must have stimulated the nerves of the others, causing these outlaws skilled in underground transactions to recall their identities...

This is their line of work, and it's not their first time dealing with death. So, after the initial panic subsided, a feeling called "fierceness" quickly surged up, driving their bodies, which had been numb with fear.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Gunshots rang out continuously. One of the smugglers, who was still somewhat clever, took the oil tank of the kerosene lamp, soaked a strip of cloth in it, lit it, and threw it at the overseer.

The flickering flames reflected in the overseer's broken eyeballs hanging outside, and the once statue-like man began to move.

But then the guy’s entire upper body split open along the midline, and the thrown oil tank went right through the gap and landed on a wooden crate on the shelf behind him.

The flames, once fueled, immediately rose and leaped up, expanding rapidly and fiercely.

"What are you standing there for, Matt? Go find some new kindling, anything will do..."

The captain roared at one of the men beside him, but the man did not make any move, only looking at the man in front of him with fear in his eyes.

Seemingly noticing the strange look in Matt's expression, the highly experienced smuggler captain quickly turned around, as if about to fire... but before he could raise his hand, the overseer, who had appeared behind him at some point, swallowed him whole with his split upper body.

Click-click-

A nauseating chewing sound rang out.

If Fran were here, he would probably be curious about the foreman's current anatomy. His body is filled with various fragile but vital organs, and a central vertebra supports his midline... How exactly did he manage to tear his upper body apart and use it as a mouth?

The young smuggler, Matt, watched as his captain was enveloped by the mantis's mouthparts, his flesh being torn away bit by bit. He wanted to say something or run away, but the weight of death loomed large, and for a moment he lost control of his limbs.

A moment later, the overseer brought out their captain, Tu Zhong.

His outline looked complete, with no missing limbs or body parts... but he no longer had the skin covering his flesh and blood, leaving only a staggering and bewildered mass of bloody flesh.

In the tense and anxious moment, no one noticed Vivian emerging from the shadows.

With remarkably steady movements, she grabbed the throat of a man who had been fleeing toward the warehouse door from the beginning, then quickly choked him unconscious before dragging him into a corner and stuffing him into a metal cargo box.

Under the cover of gunfire, smoke, and flames, her actions went unnoticed.

It took Vivian some time to remove the man's leather travel robe and drape it over herself. After doing so, she reached for the gift Dr. Fran had given her in Gormouth…

【The Veil of Mimicry】

Thanks to the effect of this ornament, her appearance was instantly reshaped in the illusory and blurry, becoming indistinguishable from that of the smuggler.

"call."

After a brief adjustment period, Vivian, her body hunched over, slowly walked out of the shelving shelter.

At that very moment, most of the other smugglers, overwhelmed by the situation and unable to comprehend it with common sense, also fled in panic. These guys were a group of desperate criminals bound together by money; expecting them to show resilience in the face of dire circumstances was simply unrealistic…

To be honest, the fact that they were able to spontaneously put up a resistance just now was already an extraordinary performance.

With someone raising the flag, they could still maintain basic orderly actions, but after their leader died in a horrific manner, the collapse of their morale and mind was inevitable.

"Create distance, reduce your breathing rate, and hold your breath until the very last moment. I have three ways to deal with him." ∫△'∮

Vivian's calm voice suddenly rang out.

At this moment, her voice was hoarse, typical of a middle-aged person who had drunk too much, to the point that it sounded somewhat distorted. But fortunately, it was a familiar voice to these smugglers, so there was no issue of them not understanding or misunderstanding the instructions.

As if he had found his pillar of support, Matt raised his hand to cover his mouth and nose, then looked up at Vivian, his eyes showing surprise.

Greg? Wasn't that drunkard the fastest runner just now? Why is he turning back to give orders?

Could it be that he is actually an undercover agent within our team, only choosing to expose himself when the situation is completely out of control?

Such doubts did not linger in his mind for long. Under the imminent pressure of death, figuring out how to survive was clearly far more important than doubting those around him.

An unexpected temporary commander halted the escape attempt of those present, but Vivian now had to act as quickly as possible. Firstly, to solidify and strengthen her first impression, and secondly…

This was because the strange being that the overseer had taken notice of him.

However, he did not launch an attack immediately, but instead slowly opened his mouth.

"I smell the scent of desire and feathers on you. It's not far from being faint and odorless, but as long as it exists, it will leave a trace... I believe you can also feel the restless unease that comes from the depths of your skin."

"It's a constraint."

"My skin binds the extension of flesh and blood, my eyeballs lock the limits of vision, and my heart fixes the form of life. You and I come from the womb, and we will also discard it. Let us cast aside all the ill-intentioned gifts given by the skin and reach a place of unfettered tranquility."

“There, you and I will be enveloped by the darkness, like the soil covered with sleeping leafhoppers. After pupating and hanging upside down, we will be the only singers.”

Although it was the overseer speaking, it was as if another consciousness had taken over his body. His mouth-shaped gash, covered in scorch marks and studded with shrapnel, writhed constantly, and the voice he emitted was extremely penetrating, drilling into the listener's ears.

Coupled with his dull and lifeless expression, he looked like a cloth doll stuffed into a radio.

"Noisy!"

Vivian gave a low shout, ending the conversation with an almost resolute tone.

If it weren't to buy herself more time, she wouldn't even have let the other person finish speaking.

Even the Hunters, who belong to the Secret Court, have no time to chat with heretical fanatics... Their screams in the interrogation room are much more pleasant than their nonsensical and fragmented ravings.

As she made the sound, she quickly picked up a kerosene lamp from the ground and threw it at the overseer.

While at Dwyer's residence, Vivian had witnessed Fran destroy these special scrolls with deep yellow flames. Although the flames used by that doctor were clearly peculiar and difficult to fathom with common sense... the monster that the overseer had transformed into did indeed exhibit a fear of fire.

Otherwise, he wouldn't have taken all the bullets but avoided the thrown fuel tank.

"You are as stubborn and dull as an old, dead shell."

Faced with the kerosene lamp aimed directly at his head, the overseer, in disguise, simply stretched out his arm, precisely blocking the parabolic trajectory. To him, this slow and inefficient method of attack was nothing more than a game, posing no threat whatsoever.

However, the next moment, something unexpected happened.

The kerosene lamp, like a phantom, pierced through his palm and struck his head directly. At that moment, the two seemed to be separated from the same layer, so that there was no physical contact.

The foreman reacted extremely quickly, almost immediately attempting to repeat the same trick and split open the upper body again.

But Vivian had seen this trick before, so of course she wouldn't sit idly by and watch it all repeat itself. She raised the standard-issue pistol from her sleeve, aimed at the lampshade, and fired several shots in quick succession, detonating it ahead of time.

The lantern shattered, and the spilled kerosene ignited in mid-air, the swirling flames almost instantly engulfing the overseer's upper body. The crimson flames scorched and licked his flesh and bones, as well as the five scrolls stored in his skull.

The overseer, seemingly unconcerned about the damage, merely stretched out his hand with a hint of confusion, savoring the sensation of the lantern passing through his palm.

"No shadow is cast under the lamp, yet the deep darkness climbed up and opened my arm—the art of shadow manipulation..."

Vivian did not lower her guard because of his mutterings, and immediately directed the other smugglers who were stunned in place.

"What are you standing there for? Are you waiting for the fire to go out so it can skin you alive? Throw everything you can find that can burn over there, including your fleece-lined cotton underwear, and make that damn thing burn as brightly as possible!"

As a Secret Service agent, Vivian was clearly quite familiar with the way Norrington's underworld personnel spoke. This included elements such as vulgar examples, fluent slang, and a slightly abusive, lecturing tone.

Seeing that the monster was indeed engulfed in flames and no longer moved, the people around had no time to think about anything else. They began to throw wooden crates and the remaining kerosene from lanterns at it, and some even started to loosen the belts of their woolen trousers.

Vivian only let out a long sigh of relief when the overseer and the painting in his head turned to ashes.

At least the situation is under control for the time being.