Jill grabbed the pistol and cautiously walked towards the stairs. The sound of her footsteps was absorbed by the sumptuous carpet that stretched from the front door to the staircase, and on a small table to the right of the staircase lay a typewriter of the last century, with a blank sheet of paper stuck on it. It's a weird ornament (well, anyone who's ever played the game knows what this does...). ）。 Other than that, there is nothing else in the spacious hall.

Jill looked back at the other friends, what did everyone think of this ornament? Barry and Chris were sitting on the floor, sweat running down their foreheads. Wesker crouched at the front door and checked the latch.

Wesker stood up, his sunglasses still on his face, and he still looked like he didn't care. "The wood next to this lock has been broken, so it shows that someone forced their way in before we arrived."

Chris's expression softened a little, "Is that the Bravo team?"

Chris nodded, "I think it's them." Rescue forces should be on their way this way, and I'm sure our 'friend' Mr. Vickers will get in touch with them. ”

Wesker said in a mocking tone. Jill also burned with anger in his heart at this moment, "Brad, that bastard, is really an idiot who has not achieved enough and has more than enough failures. Our life at this time is like a candle in the wind, which may be extinguished at any time. ”

Wesker spotted two doors on the west side of the hall: "It's dangerous outside right now, so I think it's better for us to scout in this villa before the backyard troops arrive." Obviously, there are people who are managing here, although we don't know why these people are doing this......"

Wesker said as he returned to his teammates, "How much ammo do we have left?" ”

Jill took the magazine out of Beretta and carefully counted it. There were only three rounds left, and two more spare magazines, for a total of thirty-three bullets. Chris had twenty-two left, and Wesker seventeen. Barry also had two more Colt-specific magazines, which combined with the bulk bullets were only nineteen.

Jill's hatred for Brad deepened at the thought of the equipment he had left in the helicopter. Ammo boxes, flashlights, walkie-talkies, shotguns – and, of course, medical supplies. The Beretta that Joseph had just found also had a severed hand stained with blood on it - this suggests. There must have been a member of the S who was seriously injured. "Thank you, Brad, even if we're injured now, we don't even have a Band-Aid by our side."

Crash!

It was the sound of something heavy falling on the floor, as if it was very close to these people. Everyone turned their heads to look at the only door on the east side of the hall. Jill suddenly thought of a horror movie he had seen before. Mysterious houses, strange sounds...... She was shocked, and secretly vowed in her heart that if she could get out of here, she would definitely teach Brad a good lesson.

"Chris, report after scouting, hurry up!" "We're all on standby here until the city police arrive. If something unexpected happens, you can shoot, but always be vigilant. ”

Chris nodded in understanding, then walked to the door, his leather boots stomping on the marble floor, making a crisp footstep.

Once again, Jill felt a little ominous, and his heart was uneasy.

"Chris?"

Although Chris had already grasped the doorknob, he turned around. At that moment, Jill didn't know why she stopped him, everything happened so suddenly. Since there are so many uncertainties in the current situation, I don't know what to say......

He's a trained expert, but so is he.

"Be careful!" Jill finally said this. It wasn't really what she wanted to say, but it was enough.

Chris grinned, grinned, and walked through the door holding his Beretta. The hall was so quiet that you could almost hear a pin drop on the ground, the door slowly closed, and Chris's figure disappeared from view.

Barry noticed Jill's gaze and smiled. The smile seemed to say, "It's okay, don't worry, he'll be fine." But Jill had a lingering thought in her heart: yes, Chris wasn't coming back.

Chris investigates thoroughly, but turns out to be alone in the room. I don't know who made the noise, but it's not here now.

The pendulum of a huge clock swayed rhythmically, and it was the only room in the room that made a solemn ticking sound, and the floor was covered with lustrous black and white tiles. This is the restaurant. In those movies that depict the lives of the rich, their restaurants are like this. Like the entrance hall, this room has an inaccessible ceiling and a terrace on the second floor. There are also a lot of expensive-looking artworks dotted around the restaurant. In the depths of the room there is a mosaic stove with an article and two cross-placed swords on top, and the whole room is perfectly decorated, although there is no record leading to the second floor here, but there is a closed door to the right hand of the stove.

Chris walked towards the door with his gun in hand. There is no doubt that the "abandoned villa" I broke into was absolutely extravagant, as evidenced by the mahogany décor in the spacious dining room, the expensive artwork that hangs on the surrounding walls, and the table in the center of the dining room that stretches from one end of the room to the other. The table could accommodate at least twenty people, but judging by the dust that had accumulated on the lace-laced tablecloth, it hadn't been used for at least a few weeks.

According to the information available, no one has been here in the past 30 years, so there should have been no dinner parties or anything like that. Spencer sealed the villa without anyone living in it.

Chris shook his head. It's clear that someone had used the villa some time ago – so what was Spencer's purpose in enclosing the private estate and leaving it to rot in the forest? And more importantly, why would Ambrera lie to Director Alrons about the state of management of this villa?

Killings, Disappearances, Ambrera, Jill...... It's all so anxious. Where should we start with this series of questions?

Chris came to the door, turning the doorknob slowly, carefully listening for anything on the other side, and hearing nothing but the big clock. He opened the door, revealing a narrow corridor in the light of vintage-style lighting. Chris looked alarmingly to the left and right, the corridor on the right was about a few tens of meters long, with two doors diagonally opposite, and one more at the end. On the left, not far from where Chris stood, the hallway turns to the right. There is a dotted mark on the ground that has been dyed red.