Metaphysics Live Room: The host is the contract husband

Even the terrified expression in the frozen death frame is exactly the same as that of the deceased. He died in the comics and he died in reality. Could this be an important clue?

Xing Fei and his companions knew that any abnormality might be a clue to the truth, so they had to record it well. Who knows... there really was something strange.

They all followed Master Su and had broadened their horizons, so they naturally wouldn't think this was just a coincidence.

When they got back and sat in the car, everyone felt a little heavy-hearted.

Li Wenhao said in a deep voice, "Boss, I always feel like something is wrong. This person's death is too strange. He never died while playing games before, so how could he die while reading a comic?"

"Do you think there might be any ghosts here? Should we ask Master Su to come and take a look? If it's something unscientific, we won't be able to intervene."

Xing Fei smoked a cigarette and seemed to be thinking about something.

After a while, he finally spoke: "No, there are too few clues in this case. We are the police who solve the case. We can't rely on Master Su for everything without finding any clues."

"When we get back, have Gao Ming check out that comic website and see who the comic artist is. Let's see if there's any clues there."

"Yes, head."

After they returned to the police station, Li Wenhao connected the computer and looked at the frozen picture. He felt a sense of incongruity in his heart, as if the picture had changed a little.

"Huh? Why is the person being chased gone?"

Gao Ming looked at him blankly: "Li Wenhao, what are you doing? Don't yell at me for no reason. You scared me so much in the middle of the night. It'll kill me, you know."

Li Wenhao's face was full of anxiety. He pointed at the comics and counted them. He was horrified to find a problem. There was one more zombie chasing him, and the one that looked like the deceased was missing.

Could it be that... he has become a zombie?

"Boss, come here quickly. There's something wrong with this comic. It's different from what we saw in the rental house."

Xing Fei came over after hearing this and saw that something was wrong with the comic. He frowned and said, "The survivors disappeared, and there's one more zombie. Who has touched this comic?"

Li Wenhao shook his head: "No, this is the latest chapter updated by that mysterious website. We can't move it at all, and even if we want to move it, it can't be so natural."

“…What are you talking about?”

"Hey, you wouldn't understand even if I told you. This comic is like it's alive. There used to be a survivor here, but now he's gone."

Gao Ming was totally confused. What was going on? A comic survivor, isn't that all fake? What does that have to do with reality?

"Li Wenhao, are you okay? Comics are all about the virtual world and have nothing to do with the deceased. Why do you keep bringing this up?"

"No, it does matter. The survivor looks exactly like the deceased. Damn it, why did I forget to take a picture?"

Xing Fei said in a deep voice, "If there are photos, go find Xiao Ding. It's his job to take photos of the scene. He must have taken photos of the computer screen as well."

Li Wenhao's eyes lit up and he hurried to look for the photos.

Gao Yang sat on the chair, confused about what they were focusing on. Was he possessed? Why were they staring at the survivors in the comics? It was just a virtual world.

The photos were sent over soon. The three of them compared them. Even Gao Yang gasped and felt a chill on his back.

He stammered, "Boss, how come the survivors in this comic look so much like the deceased? If you say it's a coincidence, then the state of death is also the same."

"No, the expressions were copied and pasted."

All three of them felt something was wrong. If there was really a problem with the comics, they would need to contact the comic author, perhaps they could get some clues from him.

*

At the same time, in a basement in the imperial capital, a girl with snow-white hair and skin was drawing on a tablet, her eyes full of pain and despair.

The door creaked open and a middle-aged man walked in, holding a black statue in his hand. He placed it on the table and burned incense respectfully.

The sound of footsteps is approaching.