Lu Li's dark eyes fell on the dining table, a note that did not belong here lay on the dust.
The oil lamp was placed at the table's edge, picking up the note, its written content didn't belong to any known language, illegible, incomprehensible.
Temporarily putting the suspected clue in his pocket, Lu Li lifted the oil lamp, which left a circle of dust marks on the dining table, and observed other corners of the living room.
All things covered in dust indicated this place had been long deserted; the floor bore only Lu Li's shoe prints, as if the note had appeared out of thin air.
From the dim kitchen, scanning across the window, his gaze fell upon the stairs leading upstairs, continuing upward—a pair of clear footprints printed at the edge of the ceiling near the stairs.
Lu Li raised his gaze, following the footprints back to directly above, the footprints extending towards the door and window.
