Wang Xixi still didn't believe Zhang Le's words. Although Zhang Le seemed capable, the claim was just too outrageous. Yet, curiosity got the better of him, and he followed along.  

The two left apartment 501 and entered the neighboring 502.  

Wang Xixi was surprised to find that 502 also belonged to Zhang Le. But then again, considering the man owned a signed guitar worth 1.2 million, buying two apartments here wasn't that shocking.  

Zhang Le opened the door and stepped inside. Wang Xixi followed, noticing the interior had a similar style to 501, except this place was completely empty—no furniture, no appliances, just open space.  

Because of that, the living room had plenty of room for other things.  

At the moment, a set of musical instruments occupied the space: a drum set, a guitar, a bass, and a keyboard—basically everything needed for a band. If they had enough people, they could start playing right away.  

That was the first impression. The second look, however, was different.  

Because Wang Xixi realized that the drum set, guitar, bass, and keyboard…  

Were unlike anything he had ever seen before.  

He took a few steps closer, examining them carefully. Then, with a chuckle, he turned to Zhang Le.  

"Zhang Le, your instruments have a real 'hellish skeleton' vibe, huh?"  

The set had an eerie, sinister aura.  

Every piece looked as if it had been crafted from bone—white, skeletal structures forming the main body, with other materials serving as accents.  

Wang Xixi reached out and touched one, expecting cold metal or some synthetic material made to resemble bone.  

But no.  

He had never actually touched real bone before, so he couldn't be sure, but…  

Zhang Le spoke up.  

"These instruments are made of bone."  

Wang Xixi nodded. "Yeah, that's… interesting. First time I've ever seen or heard of someone making instruments out of bone. Kinda like those ancient barbarians who turned skulls into drinking cups after killing people."  

He paused. "Wait, Zhang Le—are these cow bones? Sheep bones?"  

Zhang Le replied flatly, "What do animals know about music? Instruments made from their bones would be worthless. These are made from human bones."  

"Specifically, bones from people who understood music."  

Wang Xixi froze.  

Perhaps because he had hit a topic he was passionate about, Zhang Le suddenly seemed like a little boy proudly showing off his treasures.  

Eagerly, he began explaining:  

"This drum set? Made from the bones of four drummers."  

"That guitar, bass, and keyboard? Each came from two guitarists, bassists, and keyboardists."  

As Wang Xixi stared at Zhang Le—standing before those skeletal instruments, enthusiastically detailing their origins—he felt his mind go blank.  

Using bones to make instruments was already bizarre.  

But human bones?  

From actual musicians?  

"You're joking, right? Stop messing with me."  

Wang Xixi forced a laugh.  

Zhang Le grinned back at him—bright, cheerful.  

"Do I look like I'm joking?"  

Wang Xixi’s smile slowly faded as he stared at Zhang Le’s earnest expression.  

…He didn’t seem to be joking.  

After a long silence, Wang Xixi muttered, "This is insane. So… this is what you consider 'divine-grade' instruments?"  

Zhang Le nodded. "Yes. These surpass all others. They’re the best."  

Another pause.  

A cold draft swept through the empty apartment—Wang Xixi didn’t know where it came from—but it made him shiver.  

He hugged his arms, the initial excitement over the instruments long gone.  

"Uh… it's getting late. I’ve seen your collection now, so if there’s nothing else, I should head back. Got work tomorrow."  

Just as he turned to leave, Zhang Le blocked his path.  

"You can’t go yet."  

Wang Xixi tensed. "Why not?"  

"You’ve only looked at my bone instruments. You haven’t tried them. How will you know they’re superior if you don’t play them?"  

Wang Xixi glanced at the skeletal instruments.  

Just the idea of bone-made instruments was unsettling enough.  

Actually playing them?  

That was a whole other level of discomfort.  

And now, knowing they might be made from human bones?  

Forget playing—even touching or holding them felt horrifying.  

"Nah, you play. I’ll listen."  

Zhang Le nodded, then walked over and picked up the bone guitar.  

The silver strings glinted under the light as his fingers moved.  

Wang Xixi really wanted to leave, but his love for guitars kept him rooted. Despite his unease, he listened carefully.  

Maybe his musical ear wasn’t refined enough.  

He could tell the craftsmanship was masterful—this guitar sounded far better than his cheap one.  

But when comparing it to that 1.2-million signed guitar?  

Which was better?  

He honestly couldn’t tell.  

So when Zhang Le finished playing and asked for his opinion, Wang Xixi admitted he couldn’t decide.  

Zhang Le said nothing.  

Just stared at him with those unsettling eyes.  

The silence made Wang Xixi’s skin crawl.  

A bad feeling crept up from the depths of his mind.  

"I’m gonna go."  

He turned toward the door—only to find it wouldn’t open.  

No matter how hard he tried, it wouldn’t budge.  

He looked back. "Zhang Le, open the door. I’m tired, I need to sleep. Work tomorrow, y’know?"  

His voice was tense but still polite.  

Zhang Le ignored the request. Instead, he asked:  

"Wang Xixi, what do you think my band setup is missing?"  

The atmosphere was already chilling. The empty apartment. The eerie instruments.  

And Zhang Le himself—something about him felt off.  

Wang Xixi had no patience for this.  

"I don’t know."  

Zhang Le sighed in disappointment.  

"Ah… you’re a lead singer, yet you didn’t notice? There’s one crucial thing missing."  

"I have all the instruments. But no microphone. What’s a band without a lead singer’s microphone?"  

"Oh. Got it. So… can I leave now?"  

That bad feeling in Wang Xixi’s gut was getting worse.  

Zhang Le smiled.  

"Leave? If you go, how will I make my microphone? I’m out of materials."  

He spread his hands helplessly.  

And then—  

The realization hit.  

"ZHANG LE! STOP JOKING AROUND! THIS ISN’T FUNNY!"  

Zhang Le tilted his head.  

"Who’s joking? You really can’t leave. You’re the material for my microphone. If you go, I’ll be in trouble."  

As he spoke, he reached into a kitchen cabinet and pulled out a gleaming cleaver—sharp, menacing.  

Holding the blade, Zhang Le grinned, his lips stretching unnaturally wide.  

Step by step, he advanced toward Wang Xixi.