Detective Agency of the Bizarre
Chapter 797: Thirty-fifth pair of eyes

Chapter 797: Thirty-fifth pair of eyes

This scene seemed visible only to Lu Li; neither Yang Chunxue nor Kong Nanqing took notice of the ethereal blood strands drifting through the clouds.

A door? Or perhaps the effect triggered by the Blood-Colored Tentacles?

Lu Li’s guess leaned more toward the latter, given he had devoured it not long ago.

What do these strands represent?

Quietly staring for several seconds, Lu Li sat up and, under the expectant gaze of Kong Nanqing awaiting a morning kiss, walked to the living room, retrieved the binoculars, and spied out the window.

Even clearer were the blood strands visible through the binoculars.

Blood strands descending from the clouds, thick on top, resembling cylindrical masses of surreal flesh.

The lines of flesh grew thinner as they extended downward, becoming almost invisible several hundred meters above the ground.

They were like... tentacles.

Or tendrils.

These tendrils, swaying with the wind, several kilometers in length, emitted an unsettling, repulsive aura. Every time he stared at them, it felt as if something whispered at his ear.

One scene after another unavoidably surfaced in Lu Li’s mind: ruins, oceanic abysses, murmured whispers.

Momentarily, Lu Li felt as if he could smell the sludge from the deep sea.

"What are you looking at?"

A hoarse inquiry beside him abruptly pulled Lu Li back from that twisted realm of darkness.

His scattered dark gaze gradually focused; Lu Li put down the binoculars: "Nothing... My investigation has made some progress, and I plan to head out now."

"Now? Chunxue is still playing games and might not want to go out..." Kong Nanqing said softly, elegantly portraying the role of a mother.

If one neither listened to her voice nor looked at her appearance.

"I’m done! I’m breaking down!"

Suddenly, a crisp, self-abandoning shout emerged from the bedroom.

In the bedroom, Yang Chunxue kicked her legs wildly, yelling.

"Now she wants to." Lu Li replied.

...

No address, no navigation.

Pursuing one of the blood-colored tentacles, Lu Li drove out of the city, as the surroundings visibly turned desolate and barren.

The unobstructed countryside roads, with a wide view, allowed Lu Li to count the number of tentacles. One... two... three... a total of eleven.

Hidden behind the clouds, they connected the sky to the ground and swayed gently.

No matter what, getting closer to one of them would reveal what these cloud-spreading tentacles really were.

"I always feel like you’re doing something very dangerous." Yang Chunxue squinted her pale red eyes in the passenger seat, gazing at Lu Li with a strange tone.

Experiencing it as a spirit was novel, or perhaps nostalgic. The touch, smell, taste, even the feeling of pain, almost entirely stripped away when becoming a ghost, returned. This restoration made Yang Chunxue instinctively think she was human—

So much so that she fastened the seatbelt.

A ghost, riding in a car, fastening a seatbelt.

Click—

The shutter sound echoed as Lu Li leaned back into the driver’s seat.

The gloomy weather brooded outside, wind filled the car, causing his shirt to billow and hair to flutter.

Lu Li briefly looked at the photo snapped, an ordinary forest road, a patch of ominous clouds in the distance.

The Blood-Colored Tentacles did not appear in the photo.

From this, Lu Li could basically rule out the "door." The door’s characteristic is that it can be recorded, but only he can see it.

"What did you just say?" Turning off the phone, hands on the steering wheel, Lu Li asked.

Yang Chunxue’s gaze stayed on it, fixated on the tuft of hair blown upright on Lu Li’s black head. Her compulsive urge wanted to smooth it; her sentimental mind found it cute.

"I just said—" Yang Chunxue took a deep breath, then closed her eyes and shouted, "I always feel like you’re doing something very dangerous!"

"Maybe it’s dangerous, maybe not."

Yang Chunxue was taken aback, thinking of the bizarre and mysterious door: "Is...is it a topic not to be heard?"

Lu Li rolled up the window, gently shaking his head: "No, I just don’t feel like talking."

...

"Dots."

"Pong!"

Clatter—

A calloused hand knocked down three mahjong tiles, pulled out a dot from the pile, and aligned it on the corner of the table.

In the dim old house, by the door, four figures sat around the table, playing mahjong.

Most of the four were old, hunchbacked, and had started losing teeth.

In the inner room nearby, a coffin was mounted on wooden stools, its lid propped open revealing a frail, peaceful-looking elderly person inside.

On the wall hung a black-and-white portrait of the elderly, with a white candle lit on each side.

There’s a kind of funeral called a joyous funeral, often held for someone who died peacefully of old age, or simply hosted by the elderly themselves.

Typically, a joyous funeral involves setting up several banquet tables, inviting relatives and friends to commemorate, and after the commemoration, everyone gathers to eat, drink, and share feelings of nostalgia—this is a normal joyous funeral.

A more elaborate joyous funeral might involve having a dragon dance after the elderly pass, followed by banquets, inviting family, friends, or villagers over for food. Some even hire folk dance troupes for entertainment at the banquet or directly beside the grave.

As to whether this is appropriate, the person directly involved has no say.

The only people who could express opinions—the relatives—naturally stay silent, because they organized the event.

Such slightly vulgar yet popularly accepted joyous funerals primarily circulated online, drawing netizens to clamor about moral degradation and terrifying bad customs.

Here, it was like that.

After the feast, four relatives and friends of the deceased stayed behind to keep vigil, conveniently playing mahjong.

"Wait—my Hu!" a lean old man chuckled, showing his hand.

"I’m suckered!"

"Sideways win!"

During the swearing and joking, the lean old man gleefully stacked five cents they tossed, pushing his tiles into the center.

Four people, each holding a cigarette, tilted their heads with squinted eyes, smoke swirling around as eight hands mixed amongst the mahjong tiles, rustling them around with a clatter.

While inside the room, an eerie event unfolded unbeknownst to the four.

The flames on the white candles flickered unexpectedly, shifting to a faint green glow.

Squeak—

A faint sound of wood moving, the wooden stools beneath the coffin lightly shook.

Suddenly, a shriveled, bone-like hand reached out from the coffin, gripping the edge.

The candlelight turned to an eerie green, exuding a sinister vibe. The shaking of the stools intensified, and the elderly inside the coffin sat upright.

The elderly in the coffin rigidly turned his head, looking towards the smoke-filled outer room, then remained motionless.

Neither stepping out of the coffin nor making any sound.

"I heard it."

Clatter—

"So soon?"

The four playing cards never noticed that the corpse meant to be in the coffin had sat upright.

Time flew, minutes passed, and the four finished a hand, the cards shuffled again with a clattering sound.

And the elderly sitting upright in the coffin continued to sit there, murky eyes watching them play mahjong.