You're a US police officer, what are you thinking about going back to the East for?

Lyon pressed himself against the wall and reached a sliding window in the backyard.

He had already pulled out a folding tactical knife from his pocket, ready to forcefully pry open the lock through the gap.

However, after his finger tentatively pushed against the window frame...

"Whoosh—"

The glass window was actually pushed open directly along the sliding track.

It's unlocked?

Lyon's brows furrowed immediately, and he stopped what he was doing.

This is a house that was legally seized by the bank.

Even if the bailiffs responsible for clearing out and changing the locks were lazy and irresponsible, they would never leave a wide-open back window after locking the front door.

There must be a demon in the abnormal situation.

Leon put his tactical knife back in his pocket, pressed himself against the wall, and listened carefully to the sounds inside. Only after confirming that there was no breathing or movement did he climb into the house.

The room was dimly lit, with heavy curtains blocking most of the sunlight, making it appear as if I had climbed into the kitchen.

Only a few rays of light pierced through the cracks and fell on the floor, revealing a dense mass of dust floating in the air, indicating that the room had been vacant for some time.

As soon as Lyon landed, before he could even get a good look at the interior, a pungent smell filled his nostrils.

He instinctively held his breath.

That was definitely not some leftover takeout that was forgotten to be thrown away, nor was it the sour smell of moldy fruits and vegetables that had grown moldy after the refrigerator was turned off.

As a police officer who had spent countless hours on the streets and dealt with numerous death scenes, Lyon was all too familiar with this smell.

"Click".

Without any hesitation, Leon instantly drew his Glock 17 from his waist with his right hand.

Pulling back the slide, gripping the gun with both hands, the muzzle steadily pointed at the corner leading to the living room and hallway. In an instant, his aura transformed from that of a casual passerby who had come to pick up something into that of a hunter on high alert.

There's definitely something wrong with this place.

Old Bill said he had been kicked out three months ago.

Whether it's meat in the refrigerator or a dead rat on the floor, it should have dried into a mummy long ago after three months, and it's impossible for it to emit such a strong stench of decay.

This indicates that the source of the corruption only recently appeared in this house.

Lyon slowed his pace, his tactical boots making no sound on the wooden floor.

He held his gun high and slowly advanced using angled tactics, while cautiously scanning his surroundings with his eyes.

He quickly found obvious clues on the floor.

On the hardwood floor, which was originally covered with a uniform layer of dust, a series of messy footprints suddenly appeared.

The footprints had large textures and looked like some kind of work boots.

The edges were still covered with dried soil fragments, stretching from the living room towards a room deep inside the house.

Moreover, judging from the overlapping marks on the ground, the intruders walked back and forth in the house, and there was probably more than one person.

Lyon continued forward, following the trail of muddy footprints on the floor.

Walking through the kitchen into the living room, the scene there further confirmed his suspicions.

Several black plastic garbage bags were piled up in the corner of the living room, some of which had been torn apart by rats.

Inside were scattered cheap fast food wrappers, empty wine bottles, several used lighters, and aluminum foil stained with unidentified dirt.

The sofa cushions were thrown on the floor, covered in black grime.

It is obvious that after the house was taken away,

This place has been used as a free "safe house" for some time by homeless people or drug addicts who pass by.

The deeper you go into the corridor, the stronger the smell becomes.

It was an extremely pungent, nauseating, complex odor.

The footprints eventually stopped in front of a wooden door at the end of the corridor. Judging from the layout, that should be the master bedroom of the house.

The smell was coming from under the door.

Lyon pressed himself against the doorframe, slowing his breathing, his left hand gently gripping the brass doorknob, his right hand holding a Glock 17 ready to fire at any moment.

He suddenly turned the handle and pushed the door open forcefully.

"Squeak—"

The moment the door opened, an overwhelming stench of corpses, almost tangible, mixed with the pungent odor of excrement, crashed into us like a wall.

The smell was so strong that it made Lyon's throat tighten and his stomach clench violently.

He forced back his nausea and quickly scanned the dimly lit room.

The bedroom curtains were drawn tightly, resulting in extremely poor lighting.

The first thing Lyon saw was a man's back.

The man was half-naked, his back was thin and bony, and his skin was covered with dark brown grime and dried, blackened bloodstains.

He was crouching on the floor in the center of the bedroom in an extremely bizarre, beast-like posture.

Directly in front of him, another person was lying on the floor, also appearing to be half-naked.

But because the man's back was so large, and he was lying on top of him in a hunched position, Leon's view was completely blocked, and for a moment he couldn't see what the person being pressed down on was like.