"Hold on," Jack suddenly spoke up. "I've had enough of your unreliable reasoning." He looked at Feng Bujue and said, "You've basically accused everyone here of being the murderer, haven't you?" He raised his arm and pointed, "Before you falsely accuse another innocent person, I'd like you to explain how you're going to clear your own suspicion. How do we know... you're not using the guise of a detective, assisting the police in solving the case, to frame someone else?"

"Hmph... good question." Feng Bujue replied with those words, then smiled without saying anything, leaving Jack hanging.

After a brief silence, Brother Jue turned his head and said to the two police officers, "Detective Schofield, Officer Dumpty, why don't you sit down and eat? Look, I've prepared your portions too, and they're already on the table, aren't they?"

"Uh... this..." Schofield and Dumpty looked at each other.

The two of them were indeed hungry, and there were several empty seats at the long table. After hesitating for a few seconds, they unceremoniously took their seats.

"Hey! Don't change the subject! Answer my question!" Jack said again.

"Indeed," Coulston continued, "I also want to ask you, what is your background? And how can you prove that you are not the murderer? Earlier in the study, you were rude and avoided my questions. Now, in front of everyone, can you please explain yourself clearly?"

Just as the atmosphere became tense, Aunt Oliver returned from the kitchen with the soup.

At this critical moment, no one got up to help. Every pair of eyes at the dining table was watching Feng Bujue, waiting for his response.

Brother Jue took the soup bowl from Oliver and said leisurely, "It seems... you still don't understand the meaning of my inquiries. It doesn't matter, I'll demonstrate it again."

Then, he began a shocking narrative: "I believe... the murderer who killed Dennis Lovecraft is me—Feng Bujue!" The tone he used for this line was exactly the same as when he was targeting others...

"Hey... is he having a split personality... why am I not surprised at all..." Officer Schofield thought to himself.

The others at the table basically had the same thought. Even Aunt Oliver, who was serving the soup, stopped her movements and looked at Brother Jue with the eyes of someone looking at a madman.

"Ms. Oliver, the soup won't taste good if it gets cold," Feng Bujue turned his head and said, "Don't mind what I say, please continue serving the dishes."

"Uh... okay... okay," Oliver replied blankly.

"As for the motive for murder..." Feng Bujue gently stirred the soup in front of him, continuing from where he left off, "Perhaps it was at someone's request..." He tasted a mouthful of the bouillabaisse in his bowl, "Hmm... the taste of the Mediterranean is dancing on my tongue, hoo, hoo..." He blew away a little heat and took several more spoonfuls.

"Mr... Mr. Feng..." Schofield couldn't ignore these words, "You're joking, right?"

"Isn't it interesting?" Feng Bujue laughed, "If a person says something extremely unfavorable to himself in an unusually calm tone, others will fall into confusion." He paused for a moment, "Detective, you already have a good idea of who the murderer is in your mind, don't you? Please don't let my few words cast doubt on the conclusion you've already reached."

"Uh... okay," Schofield replied, wiping his sweat with a napkin, and thought: Indeed... Mr. Feng always looks nonchalant when he's making things up. It's impossible to judge his truthfulness from his expression and tone. A famous detective is truly amazing, with truth and falsehood intertwined, unfathomable...

"Where was I... oh right, motive," Feng Bujue continued, "There's one thing that cannot be denied no matter what, and that is that Dennis's and my lives, before today, had no intersection. Even if you investigate repeatedly, the result will not change.

So... the possible motives for murder that can be established on me are as follows. First, Dennis and I hated each other at first sight, and I disliked him for no reason. He kindly gave me a ride, but I secretly harbored murderous intentions and wanted to kill him." He ate a few more mouthfuls of the soup, and then said, "Second, I am a perverted murderer, and there is basically no reason for killing. It's out of interest and pleasure, or just treating it as an after-dinner activity." He raised his eyes and glanced around at everyone, and was very satisfied with their expressions, "It seems that the first two are not very convincing, but the possibility of the third seems greater."

Feng Bujue leaned back in his chair, spread his hands, "Perhaps, I am a professional killer." He pointed to the dishes on the table with the spoon in his hand, "As you can see, I am a versatile person. Compared to a chef, the professional connection between a killer and a detective... seems to be stronger, doesn't it?" He smiled, "As long as the physical conditions allow, an excellent detective can mostly become an excellent criminal. Although I personally prefer a position like a criminal consultant, but a professional killer... why not?"

"Yeah, pretty cool," Miss Nancy interjected suddenly. Obviously, she already understood what Feng Bujue was doing, so... if we're going to bullshit, let's all bullshit together.

"Heh..." Feng Bujue smiled at her, and then said, "So, I, this professional killer, took action. I cleared Dennis's whereabouts in advance, ambushed him in the mountains, on his inevitable path.

What do you think of the plan of 'putting some obstacles in the middle of the road, and taking advantage of him stopping the car, rushing out in a mask and shooting him'? No! I won't do that. I decided to disguise myself as a car accident victim, and then strike after getting close.

Then what do you say I should do? Disguise myself with a fake beard or something, and hide a gun in my pocket, and shoot him directly on the highway while he gets out of the car to talk to me? Then I would be too lame, it would simply be an insult to my professional name.

I have to follow him and come to this villa... in a crowded place, let as many people as possible see my appearance, remember my name, and then look for an opportunity that may come at any time, to put him..."

"Enough!" Coulston interrupted, "Your point is already clear, there is no need to continue."

"You're the ones who interrupted, and you're the ones who can't listen," Feng Bujue glanced at Jack maliciously again, "Originally, I might have been able to finish it when the raspberry vinaigrette sesame leaf salad and the pan-fried bacon tender chicken roll with fig puree came up, but now... hehe... I guess I won't be able to finish it until the dessert comes up."

On the surface, Brother Jue was arrogantly confronting the father and son, but in reality, he was very grateful to them.

"Sure enough... people can't do without a few enemies... Thanks for helping me get through another chapter." He thought to himself.