"Why do I feel this sense of familiarity?"
Du Wei muttered to himself as he scrutinized the wax figure of the white male with a scrutinizing gaze.
His memory had always been excellent.
He could generally remember the plots of books he had read over the past five or six years, and images and videos that made a deep impression were even less likely to be forgotten.
People who evoked a sense of familiarity in him were usually those he had met several times or talked to.
As he looked at the blurry face of the wax figure, Du Wei squinted, pulled out a silver crucifix dagger, and stabbed it straight in.
As soon as the dagger pierced the wax seal covering the face of the figure, he felt a sense of resistance.
It was like he had hit the soft tissue of a human body.
Du Wei's hand paused for a moment, then he pulled out the dagger, bringing out a strand of fresh blood.
"Is it a person?"
Staring at the blood stained on the dagger's blade, Du Wei's expression was very subtle.
