America: The Cremator

Surong looked at the building in front of him. It was a typical Georgian style building. The bushes at the entrance were neatly trimmed, and the black iron railings by the yard were wrapped with gilded thorn patterns, exuding an air of indifference and luxury.

Dania introduced him to Suron: "The man living here is Herman Wolf. He is not only the most famous art collector on the West Coast, but more importantly, he controls the largest underground money laundering network in Seattle and even Washington State."

"Whether it's the profits from drug trafficking by gangsters or the bribes received by corrupt officials, once they pass through his hands, they become as clean as a blank sheet of paper."

As soon as he finished speaking, the heavy black iron gate slowly opened inward, revealing a gravel driveway leading to the main house. Two servants dressed in tailcoats and white gloves stood behind the door, bowing slightly with impeccable posture.

An elderly butler with gray hair and a serious face stepped forward and bowed slightly to the two of them: "Good afternoon, Ms. Yurievich. Mr. Wolf has been waiting for you in the main hall for some time. Please follow me."

The two followed the butler through the maze of bushes and into the magnificent main house.

The main hall is extremely spacious, with an obscure religious mural painted on the ceiling that is more than ten meters high, and a huge crystal chandelier hanging down, refracting the light into countless tiny, cold rays.

In the center of the hall, on the antique velvet sofa, sat an elderly man dressed in a dark gray suit.

His hair was meticulously combed, his face was covered with deep wrinkles, and he held a crystal glass in his hand, the amber liquid inside swaying gently under the light.

Hermann Wolff. The name itself represents a kind of old-fashioned arrogance and power.

Dania stepped forward, not with the same nonchalant manner she had outside, but with great elegance, extending her hand and saying, "Good afternoon, Mr. Wolf. I extend my greetings to you on behalf of my father."

Wolf didn't get up, but merely shook hands slightly before asking, "Little Tiger of the Yuri family, what is your purpose in bringing this strange man to see me?"

Dania straightened up and looked Wolf directly into his eyes: "We'd like to see one of the famous paintings in your collection."

Wolf chuckled. "Paintings? I have too many masterpieces in my collection. From Renaissance oil paintings to modern abstract works, my basement warehouse is overflowing with them."

"If you're looking for some unknown, third-rate work, you'll probably have to sit here for half a day drinking tea while my servants dig it out of the dust."

Dania shook her head and said firmly, "No, Mr. Wolf, that's a very famous one—'Lady in the Rain'."

Upon hearing the name, Wolf's previously languid demeanor vanished instantly, his cloudy eyes widened sharply, and a hint of surprise flashed in his pupils.

After a moment, he slowly put down his glass, stood up, and said approvingly, "I must admit, Dania, you have much better taste than your father, who only knows how to play with guns and violence. Come with me."

The three of them walked up the spiral staircase covered with a thick wool carpet to the second floor, where the decor changed abruptly, transforming from the classical luxury of the first floor to a gloomy and oppressive Gothic style.

The walls on both sides of the corridor were painted a deep dark red, and a glass display case was placed every few meters.

The display cases didn't contain jewelry or antiques, but rather a series of chilling objects: a gleaming medieval execution axe, a shrunken South American tribal head, a Victorian-era collection of corpse photographs...

Su Long activated his spiritual vision and could clearly see that the items in several display cases were emitting a faint black mist, which was the residual spiritual fluctuations and resentment.

At the end of the corridor was a circular exhibition hall with no windows, only a pale beam of light cast from an overhead spotlight. At the very center of this beam hung an oil painting.

Su Long stopped in his tracks, his gaze fixed on the painting.

The entire painting is dominated by suffocating cold gray and ink black tones. The background is a chaotic and damp void. The fine gray brushstrokes simulate raindrops that seem not to fall from the sky, but to seep from the woman's body.

The woman in the painting has extremely bizarre proportions; her slender neck supports a pale, waxy face, and her chin is sharpened like a boning knife.

She wore a wide black hat with the brim pulled down very low. Although her eyes were not visible, no matter what angle Su Long stood from, he could feel two cold, numb gazes.

It was a lifeless gaze, filled with indifference and malice towards the world of the living.

As Su Long stared at the eerie painting, he felt as if he were looking directly at the terrifying monster he had encountered before.

Wolf stood in front of the painting, his hands behind his back, a look of near-obsession on his face.

He took a deep breath and said slowly, "Many people believe that art is for conveying beauty or for recording history. But in my opinion, those are all too superficial."

"True art must be able to evoke the most primal and intense emotions in the viewer."

Of all human emotions, fear is the oldest and most intense.

"When fear descends, your heart will pound, your blood will freeze, and your soul will be elevated in trembling."

"I enjoy feeling fear. I have spent my life collecting artworks that can evoke fear, and this 'Lady in the Rain' is undoubtedly the most unique piece in my collection."

Dania gently rubbed her forehead and said, "That's such a pity, Mr. Wolf. I came here today to buy this painting from you."

Wolf's expression instantly turned playful: "What? You want to use this painting to deal with that bizarre entity that kills people on rainy nights?"

Dania nodded and said, "We can offer you a price that will satisfy you."

Wolf chuckled and said, "I'm sorry, I don't want to sell. This painting is safe with me. My collection room has a special seal that prevents it from attracting any strange things or being damaged by anyone else."

"As for you... you are still young, you have a long life ahead of you, and your father's curse is not very severe. You can patiently wait for His next appearance. Why must you destroy this work of art?"

Dania stepped forward, her tone hardening: "Is there absolutely no room for negotiation?"

Wolf shrugged and said sarcastically, "Unless you can instill in me a deeper, purer fear than this painting."

Su Long, who had been silent all along, suddenly spoke up: "If all you want is fear, perhaps I can do it for you."

Wolf glanced at Sulong with disdain and arrogance in his eyes.

"Sir, we're not very familiar with each other."

"I only respect two kinds of people: those with refined taste who know how to appreciate art; and those who truly have the courage and boldness to face the abyss."

His tone suddenly turned cold: "You want to make a deal with me? It's simple, prove you have guts. Otherwise, please leave."

Upon hearing this, Su Long's lips slowly curled into a smile: "Prove your courage? That's too easy."

As he spoke, Su Long reached for his waist and said, "Perhaps I can play a game with you. A game that is the oldest, the most classic, and the one that best tests courage."

Under the watchful eyes of Wolf and Dania, Suron pulled out "Sirius," skillfully swung open the cylinder, and emptied all the bullets inside, leaving only a single silver Magnum bullet.

Then, he flicked his wrist, and the cylinder spun rapidly, making a teeth-grinding "sizzling" sound.

Click.

The chambers were back in place. No one knew which chamber the fatal bullet had landed in.

Sulong placed the revolver flat on a marble display stand between the two men, the muzzle pointing directly at the painting "Lady in the Rain".

Surong looked at Wolf, gestured for him to proceed, and smiled, "Russian roulette. Since you crave the ultimate fear and thrill, then what could be more wonderful than listening to death knocking at the door at this distance, isn't it?"

Wolfe stared at the gun on the table, his brow furrowing. He pursued the art of fear, but he wasn't a street thug. He took a half-step back and scoffed, "I don't touch this barbaric stuff."

"Don't you dare?" Su Long chuckled, his laughter filled with mockery.

He reached out and grabbed the revolver, saying slowly, "In that case, let me tell you what courage is."