I Became the Protagonist of a Crime Novel Chapter 8

I silently scorned him in my heart. How boring—I wasn't done playing yet.

"Ding ding—"

Messages started popping up on WeChat continuously.

302: "601? Are you okay? What was that noise just now?"

501: "Did the property manager find you? What did he do to you? @601"

401: "Is he really a killer? Should we call the police..."

It seemed the residents had pulled together a separate small group chat to gather information.

I thought about it. Although they had stood by and watched in the original novel, survival is human instinct. I should still warn them. Help whoever I can.

"That person isn't the property manager. He's covered in blood, has a weapon in his hand—he's a psycho killer.

Jack has already been killed by him, and he's locked the entrance. Lock your doors and don't come out no matter what."

The silent 202 finally spoke: "I tried to call the police just now, but there's no signal. What about you guys?"

Soon, everyone replied:

"Damn, me too. The call won't go through."

"Same here..."

"This is weird. My phone has no signal either."

...

The chat buzzed with discussions about self-preservation methods. Some wanted to throw out messages for help but discovered there wasn't a single person downstairs.

The usually bustling street below had no cars. The entire building seemed isolated.

I tried the satellite phone and got the same result as everyone else. The only one capable of this had to be Ethan.

I quickly looked around and added another layer of talismans to everything in the house—drains, toilets, exhaust fans... anywhere with a hole or door, I covered thoroughly. Only after bustling about did I feel a bit more secure.

I let out a long breath and collapsed on the sofa when suddenly my heart skipped a beat.

Oh no, it seemed there was one place I'd overlooked...