His arguments were not without merit; he insisted that Brandon must provide evidence before condemning anyone. At this moment, there was no evidence to be found. Lina, who should have been a witness, was in such a deep sleep that she only discovered Hans was dead the following morning.
All that could be confirmed was that Hans had died from a gunshot wound—one shot to the heart. The killer had clearly planned this for a long time, waiting for the thunder to mask the gunfire, ensuring no one heard the shot. Of course, the killer might have also silenced the gun with a suppressor.
With a creak, a door across the hallway opened. A middle-aged man, still dazed from a hangover, stepped out, mumbling something incoherent. “But the others don’t have guns…”
This careless remark set off alarm bells for Brandon once more. Yesterday afternoon, Duncan had fired two shots, and he was alone; he couldn’t contact the police for backup, so he could only suppress the incident. The middle-aged man’s words inadvertently reminded him of something crucial.
Duncan had a gun and was accompanied by two towering bodyguards; clearly, he was the one to watch in this hotel. Besides Brandon, the expressions on Lina and Mrs. Lan’s faces betrayed their panic. They were uncertain whether Duncan might suddenly decide to execute one of his “companions” again, as he had done the day prior.
Regardless of yesterday’s motive, Duncan had a weapon, making him their largest threat at this moment. Yan Chuan, standing at the back, pursed his lips in contemplation. He wasn’t trying to defend Duncan, but rather, he felt that Brandon had reacted too strongly to yesterday’s events, hastily placing the blame for Hans’s death squarely on Duncan.
Yan Chuan had no idea who had actually killed Hans, but he recalled what Duncan had said to him last night. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Hans’s death had little to do with Duncan. “Um…” Yan Chuan hesitated before revealing what he had seen on the stairs earlier. “We went downstairs early and saw messy footprints on the second-floor staircase, caked in mud. Has anyone gone out?”
The atmosphere around them went eerily silent. As Yan Chuan spoke, he quickly attracted numerous gazes. Duncan’s sea-blue eyes turned toward him, sharp and focused as they bypassed Brandon and Ash, landing on his strikingly pale face.
The dark-haired Asian felt embarrassed and waved a hand dismissively. “I can’t tell whose footprints they are because they’re too chaotic, almost as if someone stepped there deliberately.” His expression was solemn, but his tone wavered slightly.
“Should we check that out first?” Brandon furrowed his brow, grasping the implication of the dark-haired Asian’s words. Hans might not have died in the room. If an altercation had taken place within the hotel, someone would have surely heard it. But outside, during a stormy night in the ghostly quiet Misty Mountain forest, anything could have happened. Every detail remained an unknown.
Brandon nodded towards Yan Chuan. “I understand,” the young officer replied with a stern face. “I’ll go compare the footprints.” Yan Chuan nodded in acknowledgment and retreated slightly, positioning himself behind Ash again.
Once shielded, Yan Chuan felt the weight of those penetrating gazes lift. He let out a small sigh of relief. He was not trying to defend Duncan; he merely found it difficult to ignore how clearly Hans’s death pointed the finger at someone else.
After a moment, sensing that no one was watching him anymore, Yan Chuan cautiously peeked out again. His eyes locked onto a pair of deep, sea-blue ones—Duncan’s.
Yan Chuan recoiled! Why was this man still staring at him? He quickly withdrew again, causing Duncan to smirk slightly, a mysterious smile creeping onto his lips.
[Why does this dead man always scare the wife…]
[Get away, that’s my wife; show her some respect!]
[Yan Bao is analyzing the script; he wouldn’t be moved to think Bao Bao is defending him, right?]
[Bao Bao’s serious expression is the cutest!]
Duncan glanced at the dazed Lina, then shifted his gaze from inside the room to the outside, surveying the scene, allowing his eyes to linger at the spot where Hans had died. “Why don’t you all clean up?” Duncan’s voice had a flat tone. “Aren’t you going to look for other clues?”
“Or do you think you can simply play house here, blaming each other without any real investigation?” Duncan’s words did not have a specific target, but from his expression, it was clear he was directing them at the only officer in the group, Brandon, chastising him for jumping straight to accusations without properly examining the surrounding evidence.
Brandon’s face paled momentarily, but he quickly exhaled and regained his composure. He instructed everyone to step back from the room and to refrain from wandering about, explaining that he needed to examine the scene as an officer.
Yan Chuan was among the group, ushered to wait temporarily in the lobby on the first floor. Everyone was gathered now—all except Vincent. Brandon called Berkeley over and inquired if Ash had time to assist.
Ash glanced at Yan Chuan, seeking his silent approval. Yan Chuan nodded.
“Go on,” said the dark-haired Asian with a slight smile. “And keep an eye on the roads to see if they’ve been washed away by the rain.”
Ash hesitated but added, “Can you manage alone?” The young, handsome employee crouched in front of Yan Chuan, concern etched on his face.
Yan Chuan felt as if Ash were treating him like a child and simply nodded. “They’re all here,” he reassured, patting Ash’s shoulder. “I’ll be fine on my own.”
With that, Ash reluctantly agreed, continually looking back as he followed Brandon outside. Yan Chuan settled behind the counter, rekindling the fireplace.
The Misty Mountain forest was shrouded in fog that morning, dampness hanging in the air like droplets of water, the temperature had dropped, and the howling mountain winds added to the chill.
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