Fang Cheng’s eyes sparkled with excitement, like a child receiving a novel toy.
He decided immediately to personally test the power of this new ability.
Fang Cheng glanced around his bedroom.
The room wasn’t large, but his mother kept it neat and tidy.
His gaze quickly fell on the spot by the window beside the bed.
The oak floor there was just installed over a month ago, smooth and undamaged.
But under the passive effect of the "Scavenger’s Eye," Fang Cheng could clearly see a few faint footprints lingering on that floorboard.
The outlines, almost blending with the wood grain, emitted a faint glow.
They were left when he had come back from his morning exercise, walked out of the shower barefoot, and stood there gazing out the window.
Because his feet still carried some moisture at the time, they left marks on the floor almost invisible to the naked eye.
Fang Cheng walked to the marks, slowly squatted down, and extended his right index finger.
Then he concentrated, gently touching the clearest outline of the footprints.
The moment his fingertip touched the cool wooden floor, an unusual energy, like a faint electric current, traveled from his fingertip to his brain.
In an instant, the scene before Fang Cheng’s eyes didn’t change at all, but deep within his mind, a bizarre image emerged out of nowhere.
It was a silent, black-and-white three-dimensional image.
A translucent "ghost" outline, composed of countless points of light and identical to his own figure, appeared above the floor.
He could clearly "see" the ghostly outline lift its foot, carrying with it the lingering moisture, and step on the spot where his finger had touched.
As the foot landed, countless tiny droplets of water splashed in all directions. The moment a complete footprint was left, it was perfectly reconstructed.
The ghostly afterimage lasted less than a second before it vanished into thin air, but the information shock it brought made Fang Cheng’s heart skip a beat.
Fang Cheng suppressed his inner excitement, stood up, and set his eyes on the neatly folded blanket on his bed.
His mother would enter his room every morning to clean and tidy up.
Today, taking advantage of the good weather, she even took the blanket outside to air it.
Fang Cheng walked to the bed, his gaze wandering at the edge of the blanket.
Soon, in the vision of "Scavenger’s Eye," he discovered finger marks on the blanket’s edge, also emitting a faint glow.
He extended his finger again, gently touching the clearest of the fingerprints.
Another black-and-white film-like image.
This time, he "saw" a pair of female hands, softly and skillfully pinching the corner of the blanket, folding it neatly with a slight force.
He could even judge the direction and subtle strength his mother used from the hand movements in the afterimage.
Fang Cheng slowly withdrew his finger, closed his eyes, and let out a long breath.
He now fully understood that this panel had never intended for him to take a conventional path.
Unparalleled abilities in crime-solving and investigation...
The top forensic expert...
Any intricately woven disguise would be rendered useless in front of him...
It was clearly pushing him to sprint down the path of "stealth assassinations" and "getting rid of evidence" into the dark!
At this moment, Fang Cheng’s perception of the "Cleaning" skill was completely overturned. Nᴇw novel chapters are publɪshed on NoveI[F]ire.net
He couldn’t help but recall an old saying: "In every profession, there is a master."
Indeed, even the most ordinary profession, with relentless accumulation of skill experience and honing of proficiency to the peak, would undergo a qualitative change, reaching realms others could hardly imagine.
And with his panel, he had even elevated the cleaning skill to another miraculous level.
Fang Cheng stood up, staring at his palm.
Perhaps, right now, he truly was the overlord among cleaners, a master among scavengers!
As he was immersed in this peculiar self-perception, a sudden phone ringtone interrupted his thoughts.
Fang Cheng turned his gaze to the nightstand, where the blue satchel he bought a couple of days ago lay quietly.
He then walked over, unzipped it, and pulled out the persistently vibrating phone.
The name flashing on the screen was "Xiao Shuai."
Fang Cheng remembered Xiao Shuai trying to contact him yesterday.
But at the time, he was with his family at West Mountain Cemetery for tomb sweeping, and had left his phone in the car, so he hadn’t picked up.
Perhaps realizing that the president was busy, Xiao Shuai hadn’t called again afterward.
Fang Cheng didn’t mind at the time.
After all, according to their agreement, if anything truly urgent happened, Xiao Shuai would contact him directly through the Spiritual Link.
This call coming at this time should be...
As the thought passed quickly, Fang Cheng swiped the screen and answered the call.
Xiao Shuai’s respectful voice came from the other end, carrying perhaps a hint of relief.
Like a ship adrift in a dark ocean for a long time finally seeing the lighthouse guiding its way.
Fang Cheng’s voice was calm and steady, yet it invigorated Xiao Shuai’s spirit, as if he had instantly found his backbone, and all his confusion and unease found relief.
"President, I’ve encountered something extremely eerie and wanted to report it to you."
He didn’t beat around the bush and went straight to the point:
"The night before last, I had a dream that felt incredibly real. In the dream, I was trapped in a mental asylum along with some clueless fellow whose name I didn’t know."