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Falling wasn\'t pleasant, especially since Morris was naked, having just tak a shower. His freshly washed skin made a screeching sound as it scraped against the floor. Heavy footsteps approached from behind, and th a dirty boot, which he wouldn\'t have bothered to look at before, stomped hard on his hand.

Just as he was about to scream, he saw a black shadow out of the corner of his eye, and his head was kicked to the side.

As his consciousness began to blur, someone flipped him over. Morris eyes wided wh he saw a young man sitting on a sofa not far from him. He had se this young man three days ago in a bar called the Gold Crystal. Morris remembered how he had rejected the young man\'s offer and forced him into a corner.

Now, the tables had turned.

Perhaps Morris, being a gang member with the boss backing him, felt he had some prestige in Ternell. His earlier weakness turned to defiance, and he snarled through gritted teeth, "Are you insane?"

"Insane?" Julian shrugged. "Maybe. Wh someone blocks my path to money, I do go a little crazy. Have you ever heard the Guarians proverb: \'A man\'s livelihood is his lifeblood.\'"

Graf, who had be stepping on Morris hand, looked dumbfounded at Julian, trying to recall where he had heard that saying, but couldn\'t quite place it.

Morris laughed in anger. "You call that worthless land worth a thousand bucks a path to wealth?"

Julian shook his head. "It\'s worth a hundred thousand!" As Morris stared in shock, Julian stood up from the sofa, walked over to him, and patted Morris carefully maintained face. "Goodbye!"

With that, he grabbed an empty wine bottle from the table and smashed it over Morris head. The dull thud sounded like a bowstring being plucked. The bottle shattered, and Julian, holding the sharp d, stabbed it into Morris neck.

Blood didn\'t spray out like in the movies. At first, there was no bleeding, but wh Julian pulled the brok bottle out, Morris body convulsed violtly. Perhaps it was his intse movemts that caused the blood to start gushing out quickly, like a half oped faucet, rhythmically pouring out.

If the brok bottle was the murder weapon, th Morris heart was the accomplice, as it was his heart pumping out the blood, not anyone else.

In less than a minute, his movemts weaked, and just as he tried to raise his hand to grab something, his actions stopped abruptly.

Julian set the bottle down. At that momt, another person tered from the foyer Kevin.

Kevin\'s expression remained calm. For a lawyer, murder cases were their favorite type of case because killers spared no expse to stay alive. After reading many case files, Kevin was no longer fazed by corpses.

Julian stood up and pursed his lips. "Do you want to handle it, or should I?"

Kevin glanced at the unconscious girl in the bedroom and thought for a momt. "You do it."

Things were simple. In an era without DNA extraction, it was perhaps the favorite time of every pervert and killer. They didn\'t have to worry about leaving behind any evidce. If the naked eye couldn\'t see it, it didn\'t exist.

T minutes later, Julian walked out of the room, leaving with Graf and Kevin.

Barely three minutes after they left the hotel, two police cars arrived, responding to a report they had received about a possible murder in the hotel.

...

Early in the morning, wh the newspaper boy tossed the paper outside the door of 7 Que\'s Road, the door oped slightly, and a hand reached out to pick up the newspaper before quickly closing again. The newspaper was carried through the hallway and placed on a dining table in the next room.

About t minutes later, a young man walked into the dining room. He sat down on a chair beside the table and casually picked up the rolled-up newspaper, unrolling it. The front page of the newspaper, in bold and heavy type, reported the most ssational news from Ternell City yesterday.

"The Death of the Sex Fid"

A chilling headline. For those unaware, one might think it was the title of a movie or novel, not a newspaper article. Julian nodded in satisfaction. The headline was very accurate. After saying a quick "thank you" and withdrawing his gaze from Dave, he picked up the warm glass of milk and took a sip.

He began reading the article line by line.

"Late last night, a murder took place in this city. But what was unpredictable was that the victim turned out to be the real \'perpetrator,\' while the killer was actually the victim. After following up with officers and interviewing police, the reporters uncovered the truth behind this murder case.

The tire report revolves a the death of Morris, filled with speculations and a collection of material, including information about a girl named Nasha. She isn\'t from Ternell; she\'s just a studt here. Her family lives in the capital of the empire.

Her father is a businessman, her mother is ill, and with no one to care for her, Nasha was st to the countryside in Ternell to avoid the family conflict over her grandfather\'s inheritance. If Morris\'s soul hadn\'t yet dispersed by the time this report was published, he might sigh and think, "This is all just a cycle."

In short, Nasha killed someone, and Morris is dead.

More importantly, the chaotic crime sce is far from what Nasha revealed in the newspaper, where she claimed to remember nothing. Prosecutor Dormier of Ternell City briefly discussed the murder case on the second page of the paper. In his view, Nasha is clearly hiding something.

From the evidce collected at the crime sce and the conditions there, it seems there were three people in the room, not just two.