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Chapter 425: Metropolis Suspicion (Nine)

Returning to his room, Schiller took off his glasses and yawned, showing no signs of nervousness from being trapped in a Manor where two murders had occurred. He reached up to loosen his tie, preparing to change into his pajamas and go to sleep when there was a knock on the door.

Schiller closed his eyes, stood with his hands on his hips, sighed, and finally turned to walk towards the door. Opening it, he found Agent Kayla standing outside. Kayla first glanced up and down at Schiller, then said, "Are you planning to go to sleep?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Schiller replied.

Kayla frowned deeply, looking into Schiller's eyes as she said, "But unfortunately, you can't sleep now. Another murder has occurred."

"I know, old Parker..."

"It's not Parker," Kayla denied. She raised her arm, glanced at her watch, and said, "Just two minutes ago, Mrs. Davis died. She was found dead in the first-floor bathroom."

"Commander Benjamin invites you to go there, right now," Kayla looked at Schiller and said, "You should remember, after the mayor's death, you were the only one who went to that bathroom."

Schiller ignored her and walked back into his room. He re-tied his tie and when he came out again, Kayla instinctively felt a chill down her spine.

Schiller paid no attention to Kayla and walked out of the door, heading downstairs. Kayla followed behind him, seemingly wanting to say something to him, but Schiller didn't wait for her.

He quickly descended the spiral staircase, like a glass bead rolling down in a spiral maze. The corpse in the center of the hall still lay there quietly.

The blood on the fringes of the tablecloth had already congealed, the candles on the silver candlesticks were all extinguished, and layers of collapsed tables surrounded the corpse. Exquisite pieces of broken dishes were scattered among them, sparkling in the brilliant lights.

Schiller continued to descend layer by layer, and Kayla, who followed behind him, felt that he was like someone delving deeper into an abyss. The surroundings remained the same, but Schiller's demeanor became increasingly profound.

It wasn't until the sound of his shoes stepping on the floor reached their ears that Schiller paused at the entrance of the first-floor staircase. Instead of looking at the corpse, he walked straight towards the bathroom.

At the entrance of the bathroom, Lionel and Benjamin were standing there. When they saw Schiller approaching, Lionel wanted to come forward and speak, and Benjamin seemed to have something to say as well. However, Schiller completely ignored the two of them and walked directly into the room.

A female corpse lay on the washstand, shot in the waist. She had just died, still wearing a gorgeous gown. The deep blue skirt was now stained with red blood, turning into a somewhat eerie purple color. Moonlight streamed in through the window above the washstand, shining on her body and casting strange shadows on the floor.

Schiller stood in the center of the bathroom, with Lionel and Benjamin standing behind him. Benjamin spoke first, "Three consecutive murders in one night..."

Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Lionel said, "It seems that the same killer is behind this series of murders."

"What is a series of murders?" Schiller suddenly asked.

"Multiple murders occurring within a short period of time," Benjamin replied. Schiller continued his question, "This concept has another part, which is that the modus operandi is consistent, and there is a connection between each case..."

Furrowing his brow, Benjamin said, "Do the causes of death for this woman, old Parker, and White match? Are they consistent with the previous murders?"

"What is the connection between all these cases? Did the killer leave consistent symbols? Did they use a background story related to numbers? Do these people have any common characteristics?"

"If none of the above is true, why do you think it's a series of murders?"

"But they all happened in a short period of time."

"Then it's just a series of murders that happened in a short period of time," Schiller spoke rapidly, seemingly not giving anyone a chance to pause and think. And then, his next words made everyone present feel a chill.

"This killer is too ordinary."

"I can hardly imagine that there are such foolish, boring, and talentless people in this world."

"Why kill someone, throw them off a building, kill another, and throw them off again? What is he doing?"

"Why doesn't he value life?"

"Why does he think that death can be easily dealt with by a gun or a knife?"

"Why does he think that a corpse, such a precious resource, can be so casually discarded without any artistic value?"

"I guess he's a stupid detective who has seen too much, standing from a god's eye view to watch detectives solve cases, making him think that these detectives are nothing special."

"He thinks that such a simple case would take detectives so long to solve, so if he created a more complex case, the detectives would probably be like headless flies, unable to find any clues for the rest of their lives."

"I don't want to judge any detectives because their works are the result of the author's hard work, but I have to say that even if he was inspired by some detectives, they are already outdated, just like him."

"In terms of theoretical knowledge, he doesn't understand what a serial killer is, thinking that as long as he kills multiple people in a short period of time, he can be called a serial killer. For this kind of thinking, I can only say that he is more suitable for slaughtering pigs in a slaughterhouse, maybe he can even win a performance championship."

"In terms of practical action, he is rough and shoddy, without choosing a suitable theme, without creating a countdown that creates nervousness, without any symbols or clues related to numbers or graphics..."

Schiller showed a helpless smile, as if feeling absurd, he said, "He doesn't even have a unified murder weapon, sometimes using a knife, sometimes using a gun..."

As he spoke, his expression turned to disgust, and he said, "And when he acts, he doesn't pay attention to details. When the corpse falls, blood splatters everywhere, even dirtying the fringes of the tablecloth and knocking over the candlestick."

"He didn't think about what would happen if the candlestick ignited the tablecloth. The carefully arranged murder scene would become a chaotic fire scene, leaving only ugly scorch marks. Any real serial killer would not allow such accidents to happen."

"His guidance of the crowd is also a mess, without reflecting any philosophical questioning of humanity..."

"If you insist on letting me judge these cases, I can only say..." Schiller dragged out his tone and then summed up, "A mediocre, cliché case created by a mediocre person."

"Enough!"

A cold voice came from the entrance of the bathroom, and Benjamin turned his head to look at Lionel, whose face had become grim.

Previously, Benjamin had been focused on listening to Schiller's words, and he hadn't noticed that the smiling businessman beside him had become so sinister.

Schiller turned back around and looked at the angry man, saying, "Mr. Luthor, do you know? I don't want to expose the thoughts of a fool, not because I can't guess them, but because I am a tolerant person who hopes that this world can leave more room for such poor people to have illusions."

"You said you invited me here for two purposes, to communicate with your son and to cure his illness, but in fact, you have a third purpose, which is to commit a series of murders in front of me."

"Of course, you have seen my resume." Schiller raised his voice, looking at Lionel's sinister eye contact, saying, "You know, I have participated in several of the most famous serial killer cases and have seen countless serial killer perpetrators..."

"I know that you are eager to commit a seamless case in front of me, to prove that you are a genius criminal in the world."

"But, I didn't show any special emotions about Mayor White's death. On the way to the bathroom, I told you that this case was too ordinary and I wasn't interested. So, you started to hastily prepare for the next case."

Schiller showed a helpless smile, saying, "But your innovation was just changing the murder weapon from a gun to a knife."

"Then, when I expressed my disdain more bluntly, you almost angrily committed the third case."

"Then, the only innovation you made was to change the location of the body disposal from the banquet hall to the bathroom."

"This is you, Lionel, accept your fate."

"You are just an ordinary person, uninteresting, without any genius mind."

"He doesn't have any genius mind." Lex sat against the wall, his back against the wall, his hand covering his neck, showing a contemptuous smile. He said, "But he never wants to acknowledge this fact."

"He is jealous of those geniuses to the point of madness, willing to pay any price to obtain their genius and wisdom, including my mother."

"But the most ironic thing is that after he abused and killed her, he found out that I, like my mother, am a super genius."

Lex coughed twice, his face pale, seeming to be physically exhausted. He said, "But he dare not kill me again. He still relies on me to gain those worldly interests for him."

Bruce stood in the center of the storeroom, looking down at him in silence for a while. He walked towards Lex, standing in front of him, casting a shadow on Lex. He lowered his head and asked, "Did you kill White and Parker?"

Lex sneered, "That was Lionel's own doing, the simplest delay device, the kind used in old-fashioned detective stories. So he couldn't easily change the location of the body disposal because the device was set up on the ceiling beam."

"That fool has been trying to control me for the past decade or so. I had to cooperate with him in acting, but this time, he must have failed."

"Why?" Bruce frowned, looking at Lex.

"Just now, I killed Mrs. Davis and threw her into the bathroom. I guess the Professor who was called out of the room again must be thoroughly impatient."

Bruce hadn't even asked yet, and Lex had already said, "Lionel's tricks can't fool anyone slightly smarter. His elaborate arrangements are no different from the building blocks children play with."

"I know that only the Professor has been to that bathroom. As long as the third case happens there, someone will call him."

"When he was examining me, I found out that he and I are the same kind of people. We have a little patience for fools, but only a little."

"Once we lose patience, we will make them pay."

Lex laughed softly again, looking at Bruce, "I just killed someone and saw you passed out in the hallway. I thought a drunken playboy being burned alive in his own alcohol would be a good way to die..."

"But now, you're alive, which is more interesting than being dead."

"Do you know? Every time Lionel introduces me to someone, he always says that he would rather I be a playboy like little Wayne..."

"But, hahaha, even little Wayne is not a playboy!"

"Hahahahahahaha!"

Lex stood up, laughing louder and louder. Just as he looked up to see Bruce, he saw Bruce's fist, the size of a sandbag, in his field of vision.

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