American homeless people, surviving in the city

A blinding flame shot into the sky, its flickering light illuminating Lin Qi's face.

Upon seeing this bizarre scene in the basement, which contained too many things that Lin Qi could not understand, he was at a loss for what to do.

But after a brief moment of stunned silence, only one thought remained in Lin Qi's mind:

It was the right decision to venture into this secret room, because it was actually on fire!

This fire must not be allowed to continue burning. Otherwise, if the villa catches fire, he, who happens to be in the villa at that time, will become the Seattle Police Department's prime suspect in the arson case!

Almost instinctively, he ran to the pool in the center of the room, took a folding bucket from his backpack, and unfolded it.

Then, disregarding the fishy and murky water in the pool, he scooped up a full bucket and poured it hard onto the burning desk!

"Sizzle—!"

Water and fire mingled in an instant, producing thick white smoke and emitting an unpleasant burnt smell.

Although the bucket of water slightly reduced the fire, most of the desk was still burning fiercely.

Fortunately, as part of the luxury residences in the lakeside area, this enclosed room also seemed to be equipped with a very powerful fresh air system. Both the water vapor generated during firefighting and the toxic smoke produced during the previous fire were drawn away by an exhaust vent overhead. As a result, Lin Qi was spared the danger of being poisoned by inhaling too much smoke and was able to stay in the basement to fight the fire with peace of mind.

After three more buckets of water were poured, the fire was finally brought under control.

The place that was once a raging fire is now just a few completely charred remains, emitting wisps of smoke, making it impossible to tell that it was originally a desk.

Seeing that the fire was finally under control, Lin Qi finally felt relieved.

The sense of danger that the rat sensed had been fed back indeed disappeared, leaving only a faint unease that he instinctively felt while in this eerie, secret room.

...In any case, a big problem has finally been solved.

Lin Qi, panting heavily, threw the bucket aside, grabbed his collar, shook off his clothes which were soaked with cold sweat, and then leaned against the wall to recover his strength while turning his head to look around the secret room.

The flickering candlelight cast Lynch's shadow on the ground in a distorted and elongated pattern.

The basement wasn't actually very big, but Lynch felt extremely uncomfortable as soon as he entered.

It wasn't just the eerie statue resembling a Buddha in the room that made him instinctively uneasy; every detail in the room made him feel uneasy.

Now that he no longer had to worry about dealing with the fire, Lin Qi was finally able to carefully observe the details in the secret room.

The first thing that caught his eye was a piece of clothing hanging on the wall.

Because the room was dimly lit, Lin Qi couldn't make out the style of the clothes. But when he calmed down and looked at the clothes more closely, he felt that the clothes looked more and more familiar.

It was a wide robe, dark blue in color, with intricate patterns embroidered on the cuffs and collar.

Upon closer inspection, the patterns resemble... bones and lotus flowers.

Overall, this robe is exactly the same as the strange ethnic costumes worn by those suspected human traffickers that I always saw near the dining car!

For a moment, Lin Qi was completely stunned.

When he finally came to his senses, an indescribable sense of fear quickly crept into his heart.

Everything seemed to connect at that moment.

The clothes worn by the owner of the secret room were those of the human traffickers, and the patterns on the clothes were the same as those on the silver bowl left by the murderer!

From the Bhutanese silver bowl left by the prisoners, to the same pattern seen in the homeowner's oil paintings, to the clothing found in the villa's basement that was exactly the same as that worn by those suspected of being human traffickers...

Everything is connected!

...Could it be that this home invasion murder in a luxury mansion in Seattle's most upscale neighborhood is connected to the human traffickers who were tracking Sylvia?

If we think about it further, these two cases might also be related to the recent spate of homeless people going missing on Third Avenue!

How could this be? Why?!

Although he had realized that there was an undeniable connection between these seemingly unrelated cases, Lin Qi could not imagine why these cases would suddenly be connected.

In a daze, he seemed to see an invisible dark network hanging over Seattle.

If even the wealthy living in the lakeside area can be so cruel, then homeless people like him living on the streets certainly have no safety at all!

...No, I can't keep making these connections; we still don't have enough information at the moment...

Wiping the cold sweat from his face, Lin Qi forced himself to calm down.

He turned his head and looked at the other side, where two wooden bookshelves stood against the wall, filled to the brim with books.

After a brief inspection, Lin Qi quickly discerned that the books on the shelf fell into two categories:

One type is printed English books, most of which have the common packaging of modern books. Although the titles printed on the spine are obscure, they are still understandable.

At a glance, Lin Qi saw titles such as "A Study on the Integration of Tibetan Buddhism and Hinduism on the Southern Slopes of the Himalayas", "The Remnants of Bon in Bhutan", and "The Tantric Rituals and Local Beliefs of the Newar People", etc. Just from the titles, one could feel the academic atmosphere.

These books seem more suited to a university library than to the basement of a wealthy man's villa.

But when Lin Qi randomly picked one out and flipped through it, he found that there were many highlights in the book and many annotations on the margins, indicating that someone had carefully studied these books.

Lin Qi couldn't understand another type of book in the bookcase.

Compared to those neatly bound and clearly printed academic books, the other type of book mostly looks like handwritten copies.

Their papers were yellowed, the edges of the pages were badly worn, and the titles on the books were not in English or any language Lynch knew. Judging from the shapes of the characters, some looked like Sanskrit and some looked like Tibetan.

The main text of the book is written in a script that Lynch does not recognize, and the text is either printed very poorly or simply handwritten, like an ancient manuscript that you would only see in a museum.

Although Lin Qi couldn't fully understand the contents of these books after only a cursory glance,

But considering the location of these books and the strange sights in the basement, Lynch sensed an atmosphere commonly found in movies and games.

...This must be a cult!

Lin Qi put the book back in the bookcase, his fingers trembling slightly.

If it's a cult, then he can understand why these criminals can extend their reach into wealthy neighborhoods.

Unlike typical criminal groups, cults are known for their brainwashing abilities that transcend social classes.

...If it really is a cult, then this case is even more troublesome...

What exactly is this cult plotting after it has been lying dormant for so long, starting from the theft of the madwoman's child seven years ago?

As Lin Qi pondered this in his mind, he left the bookshelf and turned to the only remaining desk that hadn't caught fire, preparing to gather more information.

Walking into the desk, I saw a stack of messy photos scattered on the surface.

Are these photos of cult members? Or are they photos of people they're planning to target?

With a mix of nervousness and curiosity, Lin Qi picked up the top photo.

The next second, his pupils suddenly contracted.

He recognized the person in the photo; the person stood in front of the relief food truck with a gentle smile, like a ray of warm sunshine.

That's a photo of Sylvia Lopez.