"That's it for now, Marcos, that's the end of my question." Mill said, pointing to the knife on the ground and saying, "It's time to start leaving marks." ”

Marcos hunched over and picked up the knife, then straightened up and turned his head to look at the scene of the crime.

Marcos was stunned for a moment and said, "Sir, are you really doing the traces very casually?" ”

"Or else?" Mill spread his hands and said, "Maybe you have a better idea?" ”

"Yes." Marcos nodded and said, "Irregular traces are often a little more convincing than regular traces." ”

Mir touched his chin and said, "Good idea, you can try it." ”

He watched as Marcos walked slowly, and then left deep and shallow marks on the floor next to the bed, as well as on some of the cabinets.

Deep marks look very natural when you look closely, and shallow traces are even more invisible to the naked eye.

Mir was shocked to find that the only area where Marcos had used an oil lamp to illuminate had cleverly concealed all the traces.

Mir nodded in satisfaction, he didn't know that Marcos would use this method, even if Chris and Wald Rue came here at the same time, or looked for traces themselves, they could just ignore it.

"You're doing a great job, Marcos." Mill said with a thumbs up to Marcos.

"There are also two rooms where you can make the same traces, preferably differently."

"Don't worry, sir, doing this kind of thing is as simple as cutting a few more pieces of meat on the desk."

Mir was confident: "Marcos, then you just wait for the moment when the truth is revealed, and the case will definitely be solved." ”

Marcos, according to Mir's instructions, had better make all traces as quickly as possible, and never let anyone find them.

When Marcos left room 320, Mir went straight to sleep on the couch and fell asleep.

Marcos hurried to the next room, and to his surprise, the door was not locked at all.

He opened the door gently, and after a brief glance into the house, and when he saw that there was no movement in the house, he slumped sideways into the house.

The moment he closed the door, he seemed to hear a small noise downstairs.

He heard the innkeeper talking happily with a group of people, and always felt that there was someone in the house he was staying in.

He leaned over to the window and looked down, and then he immediately rushed to the bathroom and looked carefully.

He felt a chill in his back, and his right hand gripped the hilt of the knife tightly, wondering what was approaching behind him.

He quickly turned his head, looked ahead in horror and said, "Yes... It's you? ”