Movie variety show soul travels between two worlds to become a rich man

Chapter 552 A Thoughtful Encounter with a Ball Flower
The alarm bells at Songtanbalu Palace blared, alerting the police and special agents who were on guard at the entrance, blocking media reporters and busybodies.

Everyone was stunned by the rising flames and black smoke; screams and shouts filled the air, creating chaos.

The sirens of fire trucks pierced the night sky outside Paris. Six fire trucks and more than a dozen police cars surrounded the Palace of Fontainebleau, with high-pressure water cannons aimed at the raging fire in the east wing.

"Damn it, the fire is huge!" the fire chief yelled into the walkie-talkie. "We need backup! The Royal Quarters are completely on fire!"

The lead officer covered his mouth and nose, squinting at the building billowing thick smoke. Suddenly, his walkie-talkie crackled with an urgent call: "Sir! Bodies found in the north corridor! Many bodies!"

The officer in charge felt a chill run down his spine and led two officers into the north corridor, which had not yet been engulfed by the fire.

The beam of the powerful flashlight revealed a hellish scene—more than twenty fully armed special agents lay sprawled in pools of blood, some riddled with bullet holes, some with sharp weapons piercing their chests, and others strangling each other to their deaths.

"Holy Mother!" A young police officer vomited on the spot.

The officer in charge, suppressing his nausea, noticed an even stranger phenomenon: on the blood-stained marble floor, a series of small bloody footprints were clearly visible, as if left by a three- or four-year-old child.

But the footprints appeared abruptly in the middle of the corridor and disappeared just as abruptly, as if their owner could appear and disappear out of thin air.

The officer in charge immediately pulled out his phone and called his superior, his voice trembling as he reported, "Chief, this...this isn't normal."

In less than an hour, the entire Palace of Fontainebleau was surrounded by layers of yellow police tape. Clement, the head of the Special Operations Division of the Department of Homeland Security, stood grim at the entrance to the long corridor, watching the forensic pathologists number and photograph the bodies.

“Twenty-three bodies,” the deputy reported in a low voice, “all members of Delacroix’s special operations team. Ballistic analysis shows they used their own weapons.”

Clement's temples throbbed: "You mean, they killed each other?"

“That’s the initial assessment, but…” the deputy hesitated, pointing to the children’s bloody footprints, “and this too. The monitoring room was completely burned down, but the technical team recovered an audio clip that contained… children’s laughter.”

Just as Clement was about to explode, another agent rushed in, panicked: "Chief! All the antiques and artifacts in the palace have been looted! A preliminary inventory indicates at least five thousand precious artifacts are missing!"

"What?!" Clement nearly bit his tongue. He immediately pulled out his encrypted phone and dialed the minister's private line: "Minister, we need the highest level of response. Something terrible has happened at Fontainebleau Palace... I don't even know how to describe it."

At six o'clock in the morning, the atmosphere in the emergency meeting room of the Élysée Palace was heavy as lead. The French president stared at the photos of the scene on the projection screen, his fingers unconsciously tapping on the table.

“So,” his voice was icy, “we had a fully armed special operations team killing each other inside the palace, priceless artifacts stolen, supernatural evidence left at the scene, and you’re telling me—no suspects? No CCTV footage? No reasonable explanation?”

The Director of Homeland Security, his face grim and filled with helplessness, said, "Mr. President, we have invited Bishop Morris of the Sacred Heart Cathedral."

“Let him in,” the president interrupted.

The meeting room door opened, and Bishop Maurice, dressed in a black Western-style suit and a red shawl, entered with two priests in black robes.

The president and other officials present immediately rose to greet him.

After a brief exchange of pleasantries with the president, Bishop Morris gestured to the black-robed priest behind him to explain the situation to the president.

The older priest in black robes stepped forward, lifted his hood, and revealed a scarred face.

“Mr. President,” the pastor’s voice was hoarse, like sandpaper scraping, “we found a crucial detail on Father Amans’s body—his exorcism implements were missing. These aren’t things evil spirits would take.”

The bishop continued, "Considering the bloody footprints and the cannibalistic behavior at the scene, we believe this is a rare case of 'psychic crime.' Someone manipulated evil spirits to create hallucinations, causing the guards to kill each other, and then took advantage of the chaos to loot the artifacts."

The president's face turned extremely grim: "You mean, supernatural forces really exist in this world?"

"The Bible contains too many stories of exorcism," the bishop said meaningfully, "but modern people choose to forget them."

A deathly silence fell over the conference room. Finally, the president pressed the communicator: "Prepare for a press conference. Paris is entering a state of emergency immediately. All airports, ports, and train stations are under lockdown. I want the world to know—France will not tolerate this provocation!"

At 10:00 AM, major media outlets around the world interrupted their regular programming to broadcast the French president's emergency statement live. The French president stood in the Golden Hall of the Élysée Palace, his face as stern as a stone statue.

"Early this morning, an unprecedented and heinous crime occurred at Fontainebleau Palace," his voice echoed across the world via satellite, "This was a meticulously planned act of terrorism, resulting in the deaths of twenty-three security personnel and the theft of thousands of priceless artifacts. We vow to bring the perpetrators to justice!"

In the BBC studio, the presenter turned to the invited expert: "Professor, what are your thoughts on the 'paranormal factors' that haven't been mentioned in official reports? We've received inside information that they were discovered at the scene."

On Twitter, the hashtag #FontainebleauGhosts has reignited the controversy. A blurry cell phone video, seemingly taken by a firefighter, is being widely shared, showing children's bloody footprints clearly visible on the hallway floor.

Sunlight streamed through the sheer curtains, illuminating the Persian carpet in the presidential suite. Gao Dongxu leaned back lazily in the leather sofa, his remote control constantly switching between international news channels. BBC, CNN—all the media outlets were broadcasting the Fontainebleau Palace tragedy on a loop.

"The French president called it an 'unprecedented act of terrorism,'" came the news anchor's clear, fluent British English from the television.

A barely perceptible smile played on Gao Dongxu's lips as he took a sip of coffee. The rich aroma slid down his throat, mirroring the irony in his heart—"Let you taste the bitterness of burning down the palace too."

"Boss, breakfast is ready." Su Yan poked her head out of the restaurant, her long black hair tied up in a cute style, and her white knitted sweater made her skin look as white as snow.

The twin sisters, Ruxin and Ruqing, were already seated at the dining table. The twins were wearing similar navy blue dresses today, one with her hair up and the other with it down. As Gao Dongxu sat down, he noticed the two sisters glancing at him with a mixture of shock and adoration.

"What's wrong?" Gao Dongxu asked deliberately, as the golden egg liquid slowly flowed out the moment the fork pierced the soft-boiled egg.

Ru Xin bit her lower lip, her eyes glancing at the television in the living room still playing the news. Ru Qing then lowered her voice directly: "Fontainebleau Palace."

Gao Dongxu smiled slightly and winked at the two sisters. This tiny gesture was like flipping a switch; the twins immediately straightened their backs, a look of sudden realization flashing in their eyes.

They exchanged a glance, then resumed their normal expressions, as if the conversation had never happened.

"I never imagined someone would be so crazy as to loot the Songtanabalu Palace. The news says Paris is under martial law today," Su Yan said, carrying a fruit salad, her brow slightly furrowed. "Boss, are we still going out today?"

"Why not? There will be fewer people then," Gao Dongxu countered with a smile. "Let's go to the Louvre today."

Despite the declaration of a state of emergency, long queues still formed in front of the Louvre Pyramid, though armed police with sniffer dogs patrolled the area. Each visitor had to go through two security gates and have their bags checked.

"Even stricter than the airport," Su Yan muttered to herself as she put her DSLR camera into the security check basket.

Gao Dongxu noticed that four plainclothes security guards had been added at the entrance. Their invisible earpieces and bulging suit jackets suggested that they were armed.

More notably, each exhibition hall has at least one guard, whose positions are carefully designed to ensure there are no blind spots.

“Interesting,” Gao Dongxu murmured to himself, pausing before the Mona Lisa. Three heavily armed guards stood around the painting behind bulletproof glass, the beams of infrared sirens forming an impenetrable net around the frame.

The tourists looked tense, glancing around frequently, a stark contrast to their usual immersion in art. A child suddenly ran off, and the guard immediately put his hand on his holster.

"It's really a case of everyone being on edge, seeing enemies everywhere." Ru Qing smiled sarcastically, her fingertips lightly tracing the glass of the display case.

Gao Dongxu chuckled and leisurely led the three women on a tour of the Louvre.

Lunch was at a restaurant on the banks of the Seine. Gao Dongxu elegantly sliced ​​foie gras, while the president's speech continued to play on a loop on the television. People at the next table were discussing the events heatedly.

My cousin works at the fire department, and he said the bodies looked like they were from friendly fire.

"Someone online said they saw a photo of a child's footprints."

"The government is definitely hiding something."

Su Yan stirred the salad anxiously: "Paris suddenly feels so dangerous. Should we go back home early?"

"Let's stay a few more days," Gao Dongxu said calmly, sipping his red wine. "It's a rare opportunity to come all this way."

Su Yan looked at Gao Dongxu with a bit of helplessness, and at the two sisters, Ru Xin and Ru Qing, who were completely unconcerned and enjoying their food with giggles.

As the four of them finished their sumptuous French meal and walked out of the restaurant, three police cars sped past, their sirens blaring and drawing everyone's attention.

Ru Xin giggled and hooked her arm around Gao Dongxu's, teasingly saying, "The French have completely gone mad."

Gao Dongxu chuckled and shook his head, while Ru Qing took his other arm and teased, "Any country would go crazy, but this just proves our family's old saying, 'What goes around comes around, no one escapes the wrath of heaven,' serves them right—."

"I've never understood one thing: how were those people able to steal thousands of antiques in such a short time? And how did they manage to transport so many antiques and artifacts? It just doesn't make sense," Su Yan said, frowning and expressing her doubts with an incredulous expression.

"Heh, isn't it said that evil spirits are behind this? Alright, it's none of our business, let's move on to the next stop."

"The next stop is the Natural History Museum, it's not far ahead..." Su Yan nodded and said.

The Natural History Museum is breathtakingly beautiful! Countless animal specimens are so lifelike that it feels like stepping into a dream world.

"Boss, look! What a huge bear!" As soon as they entered the museum, Ru Qing grabbed Gao Dongxu's hand and exclaimed in amazement, pointing at a giant bear specimen that was standing almost three meters tall.

Seeing such a huge bear, Gao Dongxu couldn't help but marvel, especially since a six or seven-year-old boy was standing in front of the bear specimen for comparison.

"Shen—what are you doing here?"

As Gao Dongxu and his group of four approached the giant bear, a tall but incredibly voluptuous foreign woman with short hair and dressed in red suddenly ran out, grabbed the little boy in front of the giant bear specimen, squatted down, and anxiously inquired about his condition.

"Mommy, do you think bears eat people?" the little boy asked the woman curiously.

"meeting--"

Before the short-haired woman in red could answer, Gao Dongxu smiled and stepped forward, speaking softly while staring intently at her with bright and burning eyes.

At this moment, Gao Dongxu was incredibly excited. He never expected that he would run into a short-haired, youthful version of a ball girl at the peak of her beauty – Monica Bellucci!
(End of this chapter)