Chapter 119: The Burial Spot of the Memories

In truth, the title of Ward Chief meant absolutely nothing to Yan Jing.

He had come here for only one thing: to find the memories the Cameraman had buried.

That was why Yan Jing had targeted the old woman of the Thirty-Second Village from the very beginning.

According to Shen Youran's information, the old woman painted every day, capturing anything she found novel and anyone who passed through her territory. Afterward, she would date the back of each finished piece.

If the Cameraman had passed by her home, his bizarre appearance would almost certainly have been recorded.

What Yan Jing hadn't expected was for the old woman to have been killed by someone else, especially since Shen Youran's dossier had been updated just two or three months ago.

Yet it was precisely within these past two or three months that the Architect Guy had usurped the old woman's position.

He had assumed her belongings would have been destroyed along with her, but the Solitude Servant had given him a pleasant surprise.

Looking at the thousands of paintings arranged chronologically before him, Yan Jing started with the most recent works and worked his way backward.

The newest piece was stained with blood. It depicted the Architect Guy in a black plaid shirt, dying beneath his own collapsed building.

Even though Yan Jing didn't know much about art, he had to admit the painting was exquisite. Both the composition and the colors made him feel as if he were actually there.

Perhaps this was the very piece the old woman had used in her contest against the Architect Guy.

According to the challenge rules between Ward Chiefs, each side chose the subject for one of the first two rounds. The old woman had undoubtedly chosen painting for hers.

He continued looking further back.

There were Inner World Residents of all shapes and sizes.

They were likely travelers passing through on their way deeper into Solitude Lane, brought vividly to life beneath the old woman's Paintbrush.

Only a few pieces depicted distant landscapes or the sky.

They showed torrential downpours completely flooding the black earth, as well as an occasional Rainbow.

Yan Jing looked through them one by one, but he soon stopped and snatched up one of the paintings.

"It's... It's... It's Grandfather Liu..."

Mantou leaned in from the side, smiling foolishly as she looked at the Old Man in the long gown depicted in the portrait.

In the portrait, Old Master Liu sat rigidly upright. The collar of his gray gown had been washed until it was slightly faded. The sunglasses over his eyes weren't the fashionable ones he wore now, but rather an extremely old-fashioned style:

Two tiny, round black lenses were connected by metal wire and rested on the bridge of his nose. He looked like a storyteller from a bygone era, or a charlatan fortune-teller working a street stall.

His beard wasn't trimmed short like it was now; instead, he sported a goatee, and his expression was incredibly serious.

More than that, Yan Jing looked at the painting next to it and found that it was surprisingly Old Liu again.

Only this time, Old Master Liu wasn't wearing his sunglasses, exposing his signature mismatched eyes—one black and one white. His expression looked even more solemn and proper.

So proper, in fact, that it was somewhat comical.

It was as if this was Old Master Liu's first time having his portrait painted, and he was taking it extremely seriously.

Yan Jing checked the dates on the back. They were from two consecutive days, two years ago.

In other words, Old Master Liu had passed through this place on two consecutive days, leaving behind portraits of himself.

Based on his understanding of Old Master Liu, the Old Man had definitely done it on purpose just to get two different portraits of himself.

Yan Jing chuckled.

The Old Man hadn't told the truth.

Earlier, he had claimed the old woman merely told him not to disturb her when he passed through, but now he had exposed his own lie.

Yet after laughing, he frowned slightly.

The Old Man had passed through here two years ago. That meant the Cameraman hadn't appeared in any of the paintings from the last two years.

Could the Cameraman have buried his memories over two years ago?

He felt that possibility was very low.

In the Cameraman's memories, he had arrived at Rotten Vegetable Village just a few months ago. The related memories awakened by the Terror Bus also showed that the Cameraman had only ridden the Terror Bus within these past few months. Even in those hazy memories roused after seeing the woman's face, the vast majority were about things that happened before the two of them left the place where they had grown up.

As for what happened after they left, there were only a few sparse details.

Judging by that, the timeframe shouldn't have been that long.

Just as Yan Jing prepared to review the previous paintings again to see if he had missed anything, Mantou's delighted voice suddenly rang out beside him.

"It's... It's... Y-Yan Jing!"

Hearing this, Yan Jing immediately walked over to Mantou and looked at the painting she was pointing at.

It was a painting of a distant landscape.

The painter seemed to have gazed into the distance, spotted the scene, and recorded it.

It showed a vast expanse of black earth. On the land stood a wooden cabin, and next to the cabin was a signpost.

Squatting in front of the signpost was a figure viewed from behind.

Compared to the cabin, the figure's back was extremely blurry, looking like little more than a large black dot. It felt as though the painter had merely tapped their Paintbrush a few times in passing to create the shape and flesh out the composition.

But Mantou smiled happily as she looked at the figure's back in the painting:

"Y-Yan... Jing... It's... It's you!"

Yan Jing picked up the painting and scrutinized it closely. Yet no matter how he looked, he couldn't see himself in that figure. Even the signature camera head was indistinguishable beneath the blurry Brushstrokes.

But Mantou was unyielding beside him, insisting to Yan Jing that it was him.

And so, Yan Jing believed her.

It wasn't just because he trusted Mantou.

It was also because he had thought of a reasonable explanation for exactly where the Cameraman had hidden his memories.

He pulled Mantou along, walked out of the house, and arrived beside the iron signpost on the territory's grounds.

He reached out, and the signpost was effortlessly pulled up.

Then Yan Jing planted the signpost shallowly back into the dirt and asked Mantou to try.

Mantou reached out. No matter how hard she pulled, even with her current identity as a Solitude Servant, she couldn't yank the signpost out. Her large eyes filled with confusion.

Seeing this, Yan Jing's eyes flickered.

It all made sense now.

The Cameraman hadn't appeared in any of those paintings because he had never passed by the old woman's door.

Judging by the other paintings, the old woman—like most Ward Chiefs—generally wouldn't leave her own territory.

Therefore, the landscapes she could gaze upon were nothing more than the Thirty-Third District before her and the Thirty-First Village after her.

Yan Jing could see the house in the Thirty-First Village right now. It was a building equipped with a massive telescope. This matched Shen Youran's information: an astronomer lived there and had resided in Solitude Lane for over ten years.

Therefore, that wooden cabin was highly likely the Thirty-Third District.

The reason the cabin was gone now was because it had been torn down.

As for why it was torn down, it was because there was no longer a Ward Chief there—or rather, the Ward Chief had already died.

Where was the dead Ward Chief, and who had killed them?

Yan Jing searched his memory, finding his recollection of the thirty-third severed head he had seen. He then walked over to the Solitude Servant who had just died and compared the wounds on their necks. They looked remarkably similar.

Suppose the Cameraman had come here, killed the Ward Chief of the Thirty-Third District, and then left.

Because the Ward Chief was dead, he became the new Ward Chief of the Thirty-Third District.

Next, he buried his things beneath that wooden sign.

Aside from the Ward Chief, no one could pull that wooden sign out.

That was why he could leave with peace of mind.

However...

Doubt flashed in Yan Jing's eyes. If the Cameraman was the Ward Chief of the Thirty-Third District, why hadn't Yan Jing felt any connection to the land when he had just stepped into the Thirty-Third District?

Soon after, his gaze flickered as realization dawned on him.

Because the Cameraman had already died once.

When he died that time, who had killed him?

The answer was self-evident.

Therefore, the current Ward Chief of the Thirty-Third District...

...had to be the Disguiser.