The Red Mask Agent sat calmly in front of Walter Cao, only smiling, while Walter Cao's lips always curled into a strange, eerie grin.
"Want to take a photo? I can..." His voice was soft, yet carried a chilling undertone, as if the act of photographing was no ordinary gesture.
Walter Cao spoke, lifting his head to look at the Red Mask Agent, his smile turning wicked as he continued.
"I'll take a good photo for you." Walter Cao's voice lingered in the air, unsettling and oddly persuasive.
Go ahead, Walter Cao. Tell me, what do you think a monster is?
At this moment, Walter Cao began to laugh.
"The human heart itself is a monster." Walter Cao's words hung heavy, the room growing colder with his declaration.
The Red Mask Agent nodded, his eyes reflecting a fleeting, inscrutable emotion.
"I've never seen anything like this before. Dying and instantly becoming the Blue Wraith. Heh." His laughter was low, echoing with a sense of cruel amusement.
Walter Cao looked at the Red Mask Agent, his face showing not the slightest trace of anger.
"That's all for tonight. I'll be back after a while."
The Red Mask Agent spoke, then stood up and walked out of the photo studio. Walter Cao didn't move, his eyes cold and unblinking as he silently watched the Red Mask Agent leave.
At this moment, in the dead of night, a ghostly shadow appeared at the dock—it was David Dong. After several months away, he had returned. He hadn’t heard anything about the photo studio, and assumed the Red Mask Agent must have covered up what happened.
Taking advantage of the late hour, David Dong slipped into the warehouse and started searching. But after a long time, he found nothing. Panic gripped him, the weight of months of torment pressing down, making him feel as if he had aged years in a single night.
But only that sum of money gave him the courage and strength to return again. Yet in an instant, everything was gone—the money was nowhere to be found. The alley where he’d hidden it was still there, but the lock had been smashed. At this moment, David Dong couldn’t help but feel sorrow welling up from within as he walked out of the warehouse.
David Dong sat silently by the water, tears streaming down his face. He was filled with regret; listening to the Fake Taoist’s words, he realized that everything that happened today was caused by his own hands. Now, not only was he penniless, but his life could be in danger at any moment.
In the morning, David Dong woke to the roar of voices, the world outside bustling and indifferent to his suffering.
“Ah, I’m late. I’d better hurry over. Walter Cao must be busy now. If I’m late, I’ll have to wait many days again.”
At that moment, David Dong, who had planned to leave, overheard people discussing Walter Cao. They all said his photography skills had improved greatly, and many wealthy clients sought him out for portraits.
But David Dong was suspicious, because he had witnessed Walter Cao die at the hands of Huang Mingfa. With this in mind, David Dong quietly crept behind the photo studio, entered the courtyard, and crouched outside the window to watch.