This was such a cruel murder, yet no one noticed the screams in the early morning, which could only mean the victim was already unable to speak, or even make a sound at that time.

Pres initially felt a bit stunned, but as Lorenzo's narrative continued, he finally realized that the detective was trying to reconstruct the scene. He was imagining himself as the woman being tortured and killed.

No, just being the victim wasn't enough. Lorenzo suddenly stepped to the far side of the door, looking at the mess and muttering.

"So, what would you do at this moment?"

The target of revenge was right in front of them. Judging by the brutal behavior, the killer's rationality at that moment should have been pitifully low.

"Yeah, she was too loud. You grip her throat, brutally smashing her head until she can no longer resist... but this is obviously not a good place. Being by the door makes it easy for someone to discover your actions..."

Lorenzo looked at the large bloodstains on the floor, some of which had faint marks, as if someone had struggled on the ground.

The beast-like killer dragged the woman, pulling her into the bedroom, where the cruel execution began.

"Let me think, how can one make someone else wish for death, to satisfy my twisted desire for revenge?"

Lorenzo once again stood in front of the woman's corpse, while Pres on the side looked at him with some fear. At this moment, this great detective was not only assuming the role of the woman but also that of the cruel killer. He was distorted in appearance, contemplating the execution that had taken place.

But after a long time, Lorenzo's eyes suddenly cleared up, and he said.

"Something isn't right."

"What's not right?"

Pres tried to interject. In the instant just before Lorenzo fell into deep contemplation, he finally took on a somewhat urban legend-like appearance, eerie and terrifying.

In a way, Pres even thought that Lorenzo had become an external detective just because Suyalan Hall valued his bizarre talents. Lorenzo could use them to be the best detective or the most terrifying criminal, all determined by a single thought.

Just like now, Lorenzo seemed like a criminal genius. He and the cruel killer were both fugitives, and only in this way could one fugitive understand another, to know what choices he would make.

"How did he leave?"

Lorenzo turned to Pres, eyes full of questions.

"Obviously, this was a cruel revenge. For this, that madman spread her blood throughout the entire room, so much so that I think even this blood isn't enough. So, he would inevitably stain himself with blood, right? So where are the traces? All the blood is sealed in the room, and the killer left without a trace."

Unless he was an incorporeal monster, otherwise, he would have stained himself with blood and left a mark.

As Lorenzo spoke, his gaze swiftly scanned around.

Think about it, Lorenzo, if you were that deranged killer, how would you leave?

Return the way you came? The smell of blood on you would linger somewhat, and traces would surely be left in the stairwell. But besides this route, what would you do?

"Fire escape?"

Pres finally contributed a bit, and Lorenzo sharply turned to look out the window, then opened it and leaped out.

The fire escape was built on both sides of the apartment, but because the buildings on Cork Street were lower and older, they didn't have such things. Lorenzo had temporarily forgotten about its existence. A cold wind rushed into his collar, and Lorenzo heard some noises from above.

Had the killer not left?

Thinking of this, Lorenzo started sprinting wildly. This detective had incredible swiftness, reaching the rooftop within breaths and drawing the Winchester from under his coat.

"Stop!"

He shouted, his call met by two or three bewildered maintenance workers, sitting by the steam pipes on the rooftop, tightening the leaking areas with wrenches.

...

As the birthplace of steam technology, Old Dunling was filled with steam pipes connected to the Furnace Pillar, even in these fringe places, steam pipes pervaded people's daily lives. Due to their vast setup, every neighborhood in Old Dunling had a batch of workers responsible for repairing the steam pipes.

Maintenance workers could be seen in various venues wherever steam pipes extended. In a way, this occupation was akin to Lorenzo's "life passport," serving a similar function.

"So you just handed this case to a madman like him? Pres, you haven't lost your mind, have you!"

In the bloodstained room, Sheriff Donas, with a middle-aged potbelly, berated Pres. He was one of those who clearly opposed Lorenzo's employment in Suyalan Hall and always had a poor impression of him. He had rushed over upon hearing from the Hall, only to unexpectedly find this detective he disliked the most was here too.

Pres hung his head in silence. Donas was his superior, and he had no courage to quarrel with this irritable middle-aged man, choosing to pretend he was just spouting nonsense.

"And you, get out of here, I'll handle this case!"

After shouting at Pres, Donas then yelled at Lorenzo.

Lorenzo nodded but didn't look at him. Pacing in place, he could be heard muttering to himself.

"This shouldn't be."

There were only maintenance workers on the rooftop. They had been repairing steam pipes since the morning and based on their testimonies, only they had been on the roof since morning. They had not heard any sound of a fire escape being lowered. Everything seemed normal, eerily normal.

"Are you even listening to me? I've taken over this case!"

The irritable middle-aged man continued to shout, and Lorenzo was about to explode, but then he saw a bright figure standing in front of the bloody words on the wall.

"Lorenzo, you too have fallen into a trap. As a Demon Hunter, you should trust your senses more."

Watson smiled and turned his head, addressing Lorenzo.

Before Lorenzo could ask anything further, Watson once again dissolved into the air, his figure vanishing, revealing the bloody letters.

"Lorenzo!"

Seeing that Lorenzo ignored him, Donas shouted in anger, but what greeted him was a shotgun pointed at his head.

"Quiet down."

The voice was bone-chilling, as if Lorenzo wouldn't mind blowing him away the next second.

Seeing Donas finally quiet down, Lorenzo strode forward all the way to those blood letters.

In the thick scent of blood was a familiar aroma. The dried marks were not neat, seemingly not created by any metallic sharp weapon.

The Demon Hunter's Intuition urged Lorenzo to act, reminding him of his days in the Order. Even as a Demon Hunter of the Medanzo faction guarding the Pope, Lorenzo would regularly go out to hunt demons, back then following trails of blood.

Gently wiping some blood, Lorenzo hesitated, but still attempted to taste it.

The heavy scent of blood, the vehemence, mixed with terror.

Donas was still furious at Lorenzo for pointing a gun at him. He roared in anger.

"Someone throw him out!"

He was extremely angry, but at this moment, Lorenzo turned back with a strange expression.

"Looks like this case is for me alone."

Ignoring Sheriff Donas's gaze completely, Lorenzo exuded a chilling madness. He once again lifted the Winchester, as if ready to kill.

The Secret Blood was agitated, reacting instinctively to encountering demons because within those sinister blood letters lay demon blood.

Lorenzo took a deep breath. He finally found the crucial clue, the demon once again appeared before him, while on the other side, Watson sat smiling on a chair, lips slightly parted, silently conveying words, seeming to say, "Pleasure doing business with you."

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