The study took Andrew the second half of the night and part of the morning, but Andrew already knew how to kill people in the same way he murdered Bourne's men. After checking the data for the fifth or sixth time, Andrew stared at his calculations.

It's not reasonable, it's impossible.

Perhaps Andrew underestimated the danger of this murderer.

Andrew grabbed his dust coat and rushed out without even checking his appearance. There were no mirrors in Andrew's lab--- and although there were many speculums, those obviously didn't help Andrew see himself.

There are so many things that can be used as mirrors, such as window panes or doors, that Andrew is sure he looks down, as the rearview mirrors of the magic car confirm.

Andrew's face was pale, his clothes were crumpled, his eyes looked a little dull--- which was the after-effects of a long battle against the picture of hell, and his hair looked sticky and greasy, as if Andrew had just ridden a motorcycle and shuttled through a greasy cloud at high speed. If you're used to smoothing your hair with sweaty palms while you're studying, it's going to create this visual effect, especially if you're doing the same movement for 12 to 14 hours in a row.

Doesn't matter. Hermione wanted the news, and she needed it. It's serious, it's serious, it's serious.

Andrew rushes to the Magic-Prime Minister's Office of Cooperation, and Andrew knows that Hermione wants to hear the news from Andrew in person. The police station where Hermione worked was located in an old complex that was also home to the city police department.

In some places, it was broken and dented, like an old soldier standing up straight and trying to tighten his lower abdomen. There's an entire wall covered in graffiti, and the cleaners won't wash it until Monday morning.

Andrew parked his car in the visitors-only parking lot – full of easy spots on Saturday morning, and climbed the stairs into the building. The officer on duty was not the bearded old police officer that Andrew had often encountered, but an old policewoman with gray hair and stern eyes, who only glanced at Andrew and denied Andrew and his way of life. She told Andrew to wait and then called Hermione.

While Andrew was waiting, two police officers came in, dragging a handcuffed man between them. He didn't put up any resistance—quite the opposite, in fact, he hung his head and moaned in a highly musical tone. He was a little thin, he felt quite young, his twill jeans and jacket were shabby and scruffy, and his hair was just as virtuous.

The officers dragged him past the counter, and one of them said, "This is the drunk driver we reported, and we are going to detain him until he recovers his consciousness." “

The officers on duty brought over a clipboard, and one of them tucked it under his arm, and they dragged the young man up the stairs. Andrew waited, trying to refocus, until the policewoman finally got on the phone with someone upstairs.

She said "yes" rather in surprise, and then said, "Okay, Detective, I'll ask him to go upstairs." She waved to Andrew to let him in. Andrew felt that she was still glaring at Andrew as he walked over, and Andrew stroked his head and chin with his palms unnaturally.

The Special Investigations team had a small sitting area, just behind the door above the staircase, with four wooden chairs and an old sunken armchair. If you want to sleep on it, probably your whole back will collapse. Hermione's office was at the bottom of two rows of cubicles.

Hermione was standing in her office, the phone pressed against her ear, with a martyr's anguish expression. She looks like a teenage cutie who is having a big fight with her boyfriend who is away from home.

But if Andrew said that to her, she would rip Andrew's head off. Andrew waved his hand, she nodded to him, gestured towards the reception area, and closed the office door.

Andrew picked a chair and sat down and rested his head against the wall. Just as Andrew closed his eyes, Andrew heard a scream coming from the corridor behind him. After a burst of fighting and terrifying roars, there were screams again, this time closer.

Andrew reacted directly without even thinking about it - in fact, the demons smelled so much delicious food that they couldn't help but swallow all these poor souls at once, and Andrew was so noisy that he couldn't think. He stood up and walked down the hallway, in the direction of the sound. Andrew has a staircase to his left, and a corridor to his right.

A figure appeared, a silhouette of a man running, striding towards Andrew. He was the man who had been hanging between the two police officers a few minutes ago, and he was the one who was screaming.

Andrew heard a jumble of climbing, followed by the two officers he had seen downstairs a few minutes earlier coming around the corner. Both men were no longer young men, running with bulging bellies and panting, and clutching the belt of their guns from their hips as they ran.

"Stop!" one of the officers shouted, gasping for breath. "Stop that guy!"

Andrew was slightly stunned--- demon saw a ripe soul, and with a little bewitchment of this poor soul, they could get a delicious meal. The man who was heading straight for Andrew continued to scream, high and terrified, a long, uninterrupted sound. Fear, panic, greed, and rage all came together and sprayed into the air through his vocal cords.

Andrew quickly glanced at him as he ran down the gloomy hallway, gaping eyes, dirty face, twill jacket and old jeans.

His hands were behind his back, presumably handcuffed behind his back. He didn't pay attention to the corridor he was traversing. Andrew didn't know what he was staring at, but Andrew had a feeling that he didn't want to know. He rushed towards Andrew and the stairs, blind and unaware of the danger.

That's none of Andrew's business, but Andrew can't let him roll down the stairs and smash himself into tomato scrambled eggs. Andrew then lunged at him, managed to put his shoulders against his stomach, and pushed him back with martial arts grappling.

Andrew lunged at him, but he swerved to the side and leaned against the wall. It's as if he didn't see Andrew rushing over, and he didn't know that Andrew was there.

He just kept staring and screaming, running crookedly along the wall towards the stairs. One of the benefits of someone as tall as Andrew is that Andrew has long arms. Andrew rolled towards him and quickly swung his hand out, fingers gripping hard. Andrew grabbed the hem of his jeans and pulled his foot to the side.

It worked. He spun in the air, lost his balance, and fell to the tiled floor. The fall scared his daydreams away, and the screaming stopped, and he slid all the way to the top of the stairs before stopping, struggling weakly. Two police officers walked up to him like a sea of officers, one standing aside.

Then something strange happened.

The young man looked up at Andrew, his eyes widening with force, and Andrew thought he had seen two huge black coins swirling in his bloodshot eyes. His eyes almost regained sight and rolled back into his head, and he shouted in a loud, clear voice.

"Wizard!" he yelled. "Wizard, I see you, I see you, Wizard, I see the things that follow you, I see the spirits behind you, they are coming, they are coming for you!"

"Oh my God!" said the short, round officer as they grabbed him by the arm and dragged him back down the hallway. "What a poisonous worm! Thank you for your help, man. “

Andrew looked at the young man, dumbfounded. Andrew grabbed the taller officer's sleeve. "Officer, what's going on?" Andrew asked him.

He stopped and let the prisoner hang between him and his companions. With his head bent forward, his eyes still rolling back, the prisoner turned his head towards Andrew, grinning in a creepy grin. His forehead was strangely furrowed, as if he wanted to look directly at Andrew through the skull of his brow and the prefrontal lobe of his brain in an unknown way.

"Poisonous insects. Said the taller officer. "It's a new 'three-eyed' scum again. He was caught in my car by the lake with almost four grams of that stuff and probably more in his stomach. He shook his head. "Are you alright?"

"Hmm... It's good, it's good. Andrew reassured him. "Is the 'Three Eyes' the new drug?"

The shorter officer scoffed. "It's the kind of garbage that claims to make people see the spiritual world. “

The tall officer nodded. "That thing is addictive to crack. Thank you for your help, I didn't know you were also a common man. We didn't expect that there would be someone else here at this time besides the police. “

"Little things. Andrew reassured him. "I'm fine. “

"Hey. The fat officer said. He squinted at Andrew and wagged his finger. "Aren't you the guy you were talking about?

"I have the right to remain silent. Andrew said to him with a subconscious grin. The two officers snickered and turned their heads to go about their business, quickly squeezing Andrew away with his shoulders as he dragged the prisoner away.

The worm said in a frantic whisper along the hallway, "Goodbye, wizard, goodbye." Goodbye to the spirit behind it. “

Andrew returned to the diner area at the end of the row of cubicles and sat back in his chair. The poor child ---- the back spirit, if it was just a back spirit, riding on Andrew's neck or back, Andrew would be very happy--- unfortunately, that child only saw a tiny, tiny corner of the overflow - when the whole hell was completely inside Andrew, Andrew really didn't know what fear a poor addict's threat could bring.

Andrew had never seen a poisonous insect before, never so closely. The picture of hell is not at all something that any sane wizard or Muggle can imagine, Muggles believe that a leaf can hold an entire world, but never think about what can be put in a wizard's mind - if anyone wants to know the answer, Andrew will suggest that he go to the Himalayas, and it is there that Andrew knows that he has been told an obvious secret--- there are infinite universes, and there are infinite worlds that are being destroyed, born, and mutated at the same time.....

So when Andrew realizes that the picture of hell in his body is actually the beginning of the apocalypse, the key to completely destroy the world, he begins to become cautious about anything, and Andrew doesn't know if what he has done is predestined, which is too difficult to answer.

Andrew doesn't have time to pay attention to some small ghost hunters known as "back spirits" right now. Although someone may have summoned a ghost trailing Andrew, which was clearly a provocation to Andrew, and the mark could still be seen by those familiar with the way, it was like a long, terrible shadow cast behind the victim like a mental scar--- but unfortunately the projection of the picture of hell was already the most terrible curse, so Andrew was completely immune to this type of magic.

However, only wizards possess this kind of insight, and can sense the presence of magical auras and phenomena. And the poisonous insect is not a wizard.

When you open your third eye, what you see can be so beautiful that it will make you cry – but they can also be creepy, and the most terrible nightmares may seem mundane in comparison.

You'll see a real image of the past, the future, or things. Stains on the mind, disturbing shadows, imaginary mental entities, the most brilliant and inconspicuous magic in the realm of illusion - all run straight into the mind and will never be forgotten.

Some very gifted wizards quickly learn how to control the third eye, and unless necessary, keep it closed, they will go crazy in a matter of weeks.

This kind of talent is often called the eye of the sky in the Far East, the wheel of the eye and the like, although it is a bit exaggerated, but the actual effect is really good--- strictly speaking, the talent of divination, whether it is stargazing, crystal ball, tea, etc., is actually an extension of this talent--- I have to say, Andrew can not use this talent, because his eyes are full of destructive power.

While reaping the benefits from the picture of hell, Andrew had to pay a heavy price.

Andrew thought boredly that if the effect of the drug was real, if it did open a third eye for mortals, instead of creating a crude illusion, it would be much more dangerous than he thought.

The disordered behavior of the poisonous insect that Andrew had just pounced on was nothing. Even if the user does not go mad by seeing too many horrific things or images of another time and space, he will be able to see certain illusions or disguised realities that are normally present around us, which are invisible to ordinary people—which will force those creatures to act defensively lest they be revealed. This is a double crisis.