Morning, King's District.

The tower rises from the ground, standing tall between heaven and earth. Its shape resembles the king's piece in international chess, forming an equilateral triangle. At its top, a giant prism resembling a four-leaf clover serves as the iconic architecture of the King's District. It's highly conspicuous, visible from any street in the district.

At six o'clock, it begins operation, a low rumble drowning out the cold howling wind. The huge prism at the top lights up, flashing red at a fixed frequency amidst the gray haze.

[Today is October 10, New Era Calendar year 532, marking the one hundred and twentieth anniversary of the end of the Company-Church War. Every year on this day, we deeply commemorate the original pioneers who liberated the Star of Art from the oppression of church ideology, spreading the spirit of art and humanism. Their ideas and spirit, like brilliant stars, illuminate our path forward.]

[The Cosmic Heavy Industries research conference will be held this morning at eight o'clock. Mr. Yain of the Lindong family will unveil our plans for the next twenty years of research and development at Cosmic Heavy Industries, including the recently developed 'Soaring Dragon' series of military armor jointly developed with Jiulong Message.]

[The pollution fluctuation that erupted a week ago at the Dream of the Black Swan apartment in Queens District has been confirmed to be a disaster-level entity known as the Dye Assassin. No further attack reports have surfaced yet, and citizens are advised to keep themselves clean and seek help from the nearest Tuner at the first sign of danger.]

People on the streets watch the city's news for the new day through the screens, while the sound of hovercar horns echoes above.

Black and yellow caution tape divides the entire street, with security personnel maintaining order at the scene.

Several hovercars are parked in front of the hotel, and from time to time, pale association members run out of the hotel's main entrance, clutching their mouths, retching as if they have witnessed something extremely disturbing.

"What happened again?" someone asks.

"I've got some inside information; this time, it has something to do with the Ascetic Sect," someone nearby whispers mysteriously.

"Ascetic Sect?"

The faces of the surrounding people change.

Everyone knows that group is full of madmen who resort to any means for their so-called art, frequently launching various terrorist attacks.

Blood Bathtub, Blooming Red Rose, Subway Bombing Case, Blood Eagle Sculpture—all these notorious events are related to them. They revere blood, terror, and violence, with powerful internal brainwashing capabilities. No one knows if the person passing by, or even a familiar friend, might be one of them.

"No, no, no, this time it wasn't the Ascetic Sect launching an attack; it was two Ascetics who were attacked..."

The person stops mid-sentence, meeting a pair of cold eyes.

"Spreading malicious rumors, inciting public opinion—I could arrest you right now. If you like the Ascetic Sect so much, do you want to spend a few days with them at the Tuning Institute?" Bai Nian'an's handcuffs clattered crisply.

Seeing that person disappear into the crowd as if fleeing, Bai Nian'an sighed lightly.

She didn't have the time to deal with such petty illegal acts. Unless it crossed the red line, she couldn't be bothered to care.

It had not even been a week since the association dispatched her to investigate Dream of the Black Swan apartment, and now this street, located on the eastern edge of King's District and bordering Queens District, had erupted with a similar spirit fluctuation. The frequency was very close to last time, but not nearly as intense.

After being reclassified as a disaster-level entity by the association, the Dye Thief was renamed as the 'Dye Assassin'.

Had the Dye Assassin reappeared just a week later?

She couldn't understand why the association specifically named her for this, and the higher-ups were extraordinarily firm about it.

Bai Nian'an pulled open the caution tape, donned her gloves, and looked toward the hotel in front of her. At that moment, pale association members continued to run out of the main entrance.

A young staff member passed by her, covering his mouth, tears blurring his eyes: "Sister Bai..."

Her eyes darkened, and after a slight nod, she walked inside the hotel.

The interior of the hotel was extremely luxurious, with lavish color layouts expressing passionate emotions. The furnishings were extensively carved, painted with gold, intricately patterned, and ostentatiously extravagant, a typical Baroque style.

Most of the rooms inside the hotel were sealed off with caution tape, and the general public had mostly been evacuated.

Two Tuners stood in front of a room door, looking far more composed than those members of the association unaccustomed to such scenes.

Seeing the young woman arrive, they nodded:

"Investigator Bai, the victims this time were two Ascetics."

Ascetics, higher-ranking members of the Ascetic Sect, considered themselves the defenders of the new order and practitioners of ascetic art, even dressing in designs modeled after the Tuners.

Bai Nian'an brushed her eyes with her hand, clearing them with a look of clarity.

The two Tuners nodded and opened the door to the room.

The room was dimly lit, with melodious piano music playing.

As soon as she entered, she smelled a strong scent of decay, like the odor of rotting fungi.

Walking on the room carpet, a creaking sound came from beneath her feet, followed by a rustling noise.

Countless spore-like gray dust particles floated in the air, limiting visibility to a few meters.

The misty mycelium floated alongside the gray dust particles in the air, connecting in large clusters like dense spider webs. These mycelia spread throughout the room—hallways, floors, and the living room ceiling were all covered. It was only then that she noticed she was stepping on a 'carpet' that turned out to be gray-white skin covered in rotting mycelium, with veins and tissues vividly clear.

"Cough, cough, cough."

The gray dust intruded into her lungs, causing her throat to itch and eliciting a dry cough.

She waved her hand, sweeping away all the mycelium web-like substances floating and entwined around her in the air.

If it weren't for the light still pouring in from the hallway behind her, she might have thought she had wandered into the depths of a giant spider nest.

On the ceiling, a skinless figure hung suspended in mid-air, entirely wrapped in a gray-white cocoon. Thick, gray-white mycelium-covered liquid occasionally dripped from the seams of the cocoon, plinking on the piano below, producing beautiful and melodious sounds.

His exposed muscles were not blood-red— they appeared as though all the blood had been drained from his body by the mycelium, leaving only a dull gray, reminiscent of meat boiled to doneness.

Bai Nian'an looked at another figure on the bed, also wrapped into a white cocoon by the mycelium. The man's eyes released not desperation but restrained fanaticism, as though he had seen something of ultimate beauty.

The gray-white dust swirled and danced, making the entire small room seem isolated from the outside world, lifeless, pale, and withering.

Bai Nian'an sighed.

She understood why the association had specifically assigned her.

In such a situation, only her ability could discern what had happened in this room before.

In the three hours following a person's death, the soul's will that drifts is in its most fragile state, teetering between dissolution into oblivion and lingering in the world.

It is only at this moment that she could probe into the soul's realm and initiate her ability for mind reconstruction.

Bai Nian'an raised her hand, and dazzling light glimmered in her eyes. Her psychic perception unfolded, enveloping the entire room.

"Psychological Profiling, commence."

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