The scene was in a mess, with thrilling claw marks on the wooden sign hanging on metal chains. The originally crowded but orderly bookshelves were churning with black and red blood stains, tilted and scattered, and chaos seemed to be coming.

The deceased's entire face was torn off, leaving only a bloody and bloody piece: his cheekbones were shattered, one eyeball was still in his sockets, the other was gone, and he could only be identified by his clothes - this was Mr. George's body.

This scene of living hell was barely tolerated, but the unique bloody smell of death could not be removed, making him squeeze his facial features into a ball.

"No one blocked the scene, is it up to public order? Where did the police go?" he pinched his nose and said in confusion.

"Shh, I'm here." A familiar and brisk voice came from the corner, and then the bloated body swayed awkwardly out of the shadow.

Ed looked closely and found that it was the fat policeman Mans whom Arthur had met in the police station that day.

"Why are you hiding, Mance, are you on duty tonight?"

It sounds like Miss Quinn is very familiar with the fat policeman.

"The Holy Spirit is here, and I know if the murderer will come back. The salary of the East District Police Station is not worth my life."

Seeing the two of them coming, Mans' voice sounded a little calmer, but the two thick and short hands holding guns were still shaking. Seeing this, Ed couldn't help but stand a few steps back, fearing that he would get fire when he encountered the pistol:

"Then why don't you just run away? If the murderer is really a werewolf, you will still be discovered if you hide here."

"I have to stay here to warn others that there is danger." He pinched his handkerchief and covered his nose with a look of distress: "Although the salary is not worth the effort, I am still a policeman after all."

"Oh, is that? Then I have to suggest that the police station give you a medal of equal weight."

Quinn looked dissatisfied. She bent down, stared at clues on the floor, and dipped her fingers in blood and sniffed:

"The deceased walked in with the keys. And the murderer..."

She walked slowly forward and stopped in front of the window. The original glass window was covered with debris, and the glass fragments were radially splashed inward:

"The murderer came in through the window and attacked George."

"Yes, the neighbor said that he heard the sound of glass breaking, and went over to check the situation. He opened the door and found that Old George's body had fallen in a pool of blood and the murderer disappeared, so he immediately called the police." Mans added in a low voice.

Ed was about to walk over, but he kicked a thick and heavy hard object under his feet. Could it be a brick?

He half-kneeled down to look at it. It turned out to be an encyclopedia dictionary with oil-soaked cowhide on the outer layer and metal horn guards on the four corners. A hardcover dictionary like this has always been very expensive, ranging from one and a half pounds to two pounds, enough to buy a suit or a second-hand high-wheeler.

The murderer took away some of the books. He suddenly realized.

The original location where ancient manuscripts were stored was empty, and all the ancient books that Mr. George's beloved were gone.

Could it be that the murderer did not kill people randomly, but had other plans?

He closed his eyes and recalled the content he had browsed, whether there were any clues worth noting...

"The smell pointed to the basement, and the murderer entered there after the murder." Quinn said.

The door of the semi-basement was open, and the inside was very simple, and even spider webs were formed in the corner.

The three of them walked along the stairs into the semi-basement, wardrobe, and washbasin rack... In addition to daily necessities, there was only an open curtain, an old bed, and a crooked sack. It seemed that Mr. George would occasionally live here temporarily.

Quinn signaled the two of them to retreat, walked up and lifted the sack and exposed a corner, then breathed a sigh of relief and said:

"There is a book inside."

Book?

Ed leaned over and glanced at it. The book exposed from the sack turned out to be the copy of "The New Moon and the Full Moon" he had read before.

"There doesn't seem to be suspicious. It would be great if Eaton was there, his gray eyes could always find the key clues." Mans complained in despair.

"Hmph, will the Shenshu Bureau not handle the case without him? Even if he is not here, I can still solve the case." Quinn said dissatisfied.

Mans continued to murmur: "Or Arthur can do it, he has always been very flexible... Where has he been? Why didn't you bring him..."

"Enough! Close your mouth and stop talking nonsense!"

Quinn could no longer suppress her already gloomy expression, and she turned her head and roared at Mans. Suddenly, she turned around in horror and raised her head-

A bright moonlight shone through the gaps of the clouds and shone on her face.

In an instant, her breathing began to become heavy and rapid, and the dark green pupils dilated terrifyingly, and the slight bloodshots dyed the whites of her eyes red.

"Ah..." Quinn's throat emitted some uncontrolled, suffocating animal growled, twisting her neck to try to move her eyes away, but it seemed that steel was being pulled by a magnet.

In the dark basement room with only blue moonlight, a faint light of lightning flashed under the dark gray scarf, crackling.

Ed reacted almost immediately, rushed to the side window of the basement, and used his cane to lift the curtains to cover the moonlight.

Quinn then staggered and fell to the ground as if she had broken free from her shackles, and supported the floor with her hands so that she did not fall. Her white hands were covered with blue veins like a bunch of blue veins.

"Sorry Quinn...I, I didn't mean it." Mans looked embarrassed and sweaty.

Ed patted Mans' broad shoulders, signaling him to calm down, and then walked to Miss Quinn:

"Are you okay?" He stretched out his palm and wanted to pull her up.

"I'm fine..." She pushed Ed away with the back of her hand, and stood up on the ground:

"This is not the first time, and it will definitely not be the last time. Don't worry, I can handle this situation."

Quinn said, tying her scarf tighter and walked towards the window where the murderer finally disappeared:

"The murderer should have moved up the eaves on the opposite side from the window on the second floor. Maybe there will be more victims tonight, so I have to chase them along the trail..."

She pushed open the fragments by the window, leaned over and stepped on the windowsill, turned her head and told Ed:

"You stay and deal with the scene with Mans, and the report will be left to you."

Ed nodded. He didn't have the ability to fly over the eaves and walls, so he had to stay here.

Quinn jumped out and disappeared in the dark in a flash. He turned his eyes to Mans, and saw the fat policeman looking around and asking with a little cramped voice:

"Okay, okay. Man, what should we do now?"

"Let me find a carriage and transport the body away first--not attract flies... and reporters."

"Okay, I'll go now." Mans breathed out with relief, jogging out in a relatively flexible body.

Why did Mr. George put such a precious manuscript into a sack?

Only his figure was left in the room. Ed pinched his chin and recalled the old man holding the book in his hands to him. It was not like what he would do.

...

An hour later, the cold winter bookstore.

The streets are empty and the people in the East District know what happened. But they can always endure it silently like a flock of sheep, praying that disasters will come to others, and they will live by chance.

A dark and thin figure bowed his head and walked through the empty night road. Suddenly he stopped and looked around.

The moonlight passed through the gaps of the clouds, reflecting the blood-red and ferocious whites of eyes under the bowler hat.

He took out a key from his pocket, opened the door of the bookstore and entered. The door quickly closed again, as if no one had ever come.

The smell of blood remained in the narrow air, covering all the once familiar smells: dust, camphor, ink...

He was silent for a moment and continued to walk straight towards the basement. The curtains were pulled up, and the silent underground room was pitch black.

Suddenly, a beam of flame lit up, reflecting the young and familiar face:

"Good evening, Mr. George."
Chapter completed!