24: Your heartbeat is like a murderer's.

The scene before his eyes distorted, shattered, and reconstructed in an instant.

Chen Mo was no longer standing in the cold hall of the art museum.

His "vision" belonged to a greasy, obese middle-aged man who was currently trembling in a luxurious office.

Wang Fugui.

"Who... who are you people? What do you want?"

Wang Fugui's voice was filled with terror.

He looked at the man wearing a silver mask in front of him, his body shaking like a leaf.

"Us?"

The masked man slowly and methodically wiped a primitive-looking dagger, his voice carrying the playful tone of a cat playing with a mouse.

"We are the purifiers of order."

"And you, Director Wang, are the... trash that needs to be cleared away."

"No! Don't kill me! I..."

Wang Fugui's words were cut short.

Because another man, wearing a black tactical suit and also wearing a mask, stepped out from the shadows.

He held a syringe in his hand, the needle glinting coldly under the lights.

It wasn't him.

The one who killed Wang Fugui wasn't this Envoy himself!

"Do it."

The silver-masked Envoy didn't even look back.

He merely admired the dagger in his hand as if it were a rare treasure.

The man in black stepped forward, grabbed Wang Fugui's arm, and the cold needle pierced his skin.

A wave of numbness instantly spread through his entire body.

Wang Fugui's vision began to blur, and his body slumped onto the chair.

In his final moments of consciousness, he "heard" the conversation between those two devils.

"My Lord, the 'fake' is ready and can be set up at any time," the man in black said respectfully.

"Very good."

The silver-masked Envoy stood up, walked over to Wang Fugui, and looked down at him from above.

"Make the scene look beautiful."

"I want our guest to properly appreciate... the art of death."

The vision receded like a tide.

Chen Mo jerked his hand back, gasping for breath.

His face was even paler, but his eyes were as bright as two burning stars!

[Thought Synchronization ended.]

"What's the matter? My guest?"

On the second floor, the masked man watched Chen Mo's reaction and smiled even more smugly.

"Did you see a sight that filled you with despair?"

"Time is running out."

On the holographic projection, the blood-red countdown had already jumped to 03:00.

Inside the command vehicle, Zhao Dahai's heart was practically jumping out of his throat.

"Chen Mo! What are you doing! Hurry up and choose!"

"Fake... trash..."

Chen Mo ignored everyone.

He just whispered the words he had heard in the vision.

Then, he suddenly looked up, his gaze like a sharp sword piercing straight toward the silver-masked figure on the second floor.

"I've made my choice."

His voice wasn't loud, yet it spread clearly through the entire museum via the miniature amplifier on his chest.

"Oh?" The masked man raised an eyebrow with interest. "Let's hear it. What is your choice? Is it that 'Scream'? Or that 'Creation of Adam'?"

"Neither."

Chen Mo shook his head.

He slowly raised his arm.

Under the horrified gazes of everyone, including those in the command vehicle.

His finger did not point to any living person on the wall.

Instead...

He pointed to the corpse soaking in blood in the center of the hall.

He pointed to the "work" titled 'The End of an Era'.

"I choose that."

"What did... you say?" The smile on the masked man's face froze for the first time.

Inside the command vehicle, Zhao Dahai's mind went blank with a loud buzz.

"Chen Mo's gone mad! He must have gone mad!"

"I choose that."

Chen Mo's voice was calm, without a single ripple of emotion.

"Because your exhibition, from the very beginning, has been a... fake."

"What nonsense are you talking about!" The masked man's voice suddenly rose, filled with the annoyance of being exposed.

"Nonsense?"

Chen Mo took two steps forward, staring intently at the figure on the second floor.

"You keep claiming this is your art, your work."

"But you don't even have the courage to kill him."

"You just hide behind the scenes like a coward, watching your subordinate complete this 'crude trash' for you."

Boom!

The masked man's body jerked violently!

"How... how did you know?!"

"There's a lot more that I know."

The corner of Chen Mo's mouth curled into a cold arc; that smile looked exactly like a devil's.

"You think you're testing me?"

"No."

"You're just presenting a... foolish pledge of loyalty to your 'Emperor'."

"You think that by imitating his art, you can gain his favor?"

"Unfortunately, you don't even understand the most basic rules of the game."

"The 'Emperor' never appreciates Mimics."

"He only crowns the original."

Every word Chen Mo spoke was like a red-hot iron tong, searing itself into the masked man's soul!

All his disguises, all his pride, were stripped clean in this moment!

"Who... who on earth are you?!"

The voice behind the mask became shrill and piercing due to fear and anger.

"Who I am is not important."

Chen Mo's gaze slowly swept across the twelve hostages on the wall whose eyes were once again filled with hope.

"What's important is that your game should end."

His arm moved slowly.

Finally, he pointed accurately at the man in the corner who was imitating 'The Thinker'.

"As for that 'fake' you mentioned..."

Chen Mo's voice, like a judge's gavel falling, shattered the masked man's final psychological defense.

"It's him."

"That death row prisoner with a black scorpion tattooed on his left ankle."

"Impossible!!!"

The masked man finally lost control, letting out a roar that didn't sound human, like a beast driven into a corner!

"How could you possibly know?! How could you possibly see his ankle?!"

He had personally arranged that detail! Aside from him and his now-dead subordinate in black, it was impossible for a third person to know!

"I didn't need to see it."

Chen Mo slowly raised his head, those clear eyes seemingly piercing through the mask to see the heart that was beating frantically with fear.

"Because your heartbeat betrayed you."

"When you mentioned the word 'fake'."

"Your heartbeat was exactly the same as that of your murderer subordinate."

"Both were filled with... cheap excitement that belongs to a coward."

Pfft.

The masked man suddenly took a step back, and a mouthful of blood sprayed out from the gaps in his mask.

All his psychological defenses completely collapsed at this moment!

He had lost.

Lost to this devil who seemed to see through everything!

The countdown had one last minute remaining.

"Ah—!"

The masked man let out a desperate howl, suddenly grabbed the tablet next to him, and smashed it violently onto the ground!

He raised his hand, seemingly about to press some remote control.

"Sniper!"

Inside the command vehicle, Zhao Dahai's voice boomed like thunder!

"Fire!"

Bang!

A dull gunshot tore through the night sky!

The bullet, like the Grim Reaper's scythe, crossed a distance of several hundred meters and accurately bored into the masked man's raised arm!

A spray of blood exploded in the air!

The masked man screamed, and his body, like a puppet with its strings cut, fell straight down from the second-floor corridor!

With a loud thud, he slammed heavily onto the cold floor of the hall.

"Charge in!"

At Zhao Dahai's command, the museum's heavy bronze doors were blown open by explosive charges!

Dozens of fully armed SWAT Officers flooded in like a tide!

Medics and the Bomb Squad followed close behind.

The entire museum instantly transformed from a silent hell into a boisterous battlefield.

Chen Mo stood in the middle of the chaos, unmoving.

His gaze fell upon the masked man lying on the ground, whose fate was unknown.

[Ding!]

[Successfully prevented the 'Art Museum Live Painting Exhibition' felony case!]

[Case Rating: Major Case (Tartarus Organization)]

[sin value Reward: 300,000 points!]

[Unlocked mid-stage function: Memory Retrospection (LV1)!]

[Memory Retrospection: Can consume a large amount of sin value to perform a deep retrospection on a single piece of evidence, allowing you to see a complete memory image related to that evidence occurring around the time of the crime.]

The system's prompt sounded in his mind.

But he felt no joy at all.

His gaze landed on the masked man's uninjured hand.

That hand was tightly clutching something.

A black phone printed with the emblem of Ouroboros and a broken crown.

Just then.

The phone vibrated abruptly.

The screen lit up.

On the caller ID, two words were flashing.

Emperor!

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