The roar of the motorcycle quickly faded into the distance.
The district returned to its deathly silence.
No one knew how long it would take before someone arrived to deal with the tens of thousands of corpses here.
Those who perished would end up as nothing more than a long list of victims on the evening news—aside from their family and friends, no one would remember them.
The sky had turned completely dark.
Tomorrow, the sun would rise as usual.
Yet, amid the silent night, someone had yet to leave.
A thousand meters from the hotel, atop another skyscraper—
A little girl, five or six years old, sat on the railing of the rooftop.
Around her neck hung a pair of oversized red headphones, each earcup designed to look like a giant eyeball.
Since the battle began, she had been resting her chin on her hands, watching the events unfold inside the hotel without blinking.
It wasn’t until Xiao Mengyu was on the verge of defeat that she finally reached out and pressed down on the air.
Boom—
With a mere press, the hotel building was pierced straight through.
Xiao Mengyu plummeted downward.
Shen Ye caught her.
The battle continued.
Then, it all ended.
Shen Ye rode away on his Ghostfire motorcycle.
The little girl chewed on her gum and blew a large bubble.
Pop.
A voice quietly emerged from the empty space beside her:
“Not going to meet him?”
“It’s not the right time,” the little girl replied.
“He just saved you, you know. Even went out of his way to give you a ride.” The voice teased.
The little girl chuckled, sighed, and murmured with emotion:
“Shen Ye-gege has grown up too.”
“…Compared to when he was little, he’s even dumber now.”
Though she said that, the sparkle in her eyes, the slight upward curve of her lips, and the way her little feet swayed betrayed her true feelings.
The two eyeballs on her red headphones floated up, hovering midair as they spoke again:
“All of this trouble was caused by your sister, yet she’s nowhere to be found. Meanwhile, you rushed over in such a hurry to help, almost exposing me in the process.”
“Stop complaining. The fact that she didn’t kill everyone is already a blessing. Besides, didn’t I almost get exposed too?” the little girl said.
“If you get exposed in broad daylight, I’d like to see how you clean up the mess,” the eyeballs grumbled.
“Enough, I’ll treat you to beef noodles later,” the little girl soothed.
“Wow, I want an egg with it! And a bowl of good wine—wait a minute, are you asking me for a favour? Spill it!” The eyeballs glowed red.
The little girl stood up.
Her body shifted and quickly grew taller, transforming into a teenage girl.
The night wind blew through her hair.
If there were a moon, if there were a river, then her figure leaning against the railing would be indistinguishable from the figure of Song Qingyun in the videos.
Beep beep!
Her phone rang.
The caller ID showed “Song Qingyun.”
She tapped the screen, and a melodious female voice came through:
“Yinchen, where did you run off to? There’s a banquet tonight, and I can’t handle it alone. Get back here.”
The girl’s gaze turned cold.
She looked again at the haunted hotel.
“Erase all traces of me. No one should know I was here. Don’t let my sister or her people find me.”
“Understood. What about the situation here?” the eyeballs asked.
“Erase all traces of Shen Ye-gege’s battle. No one must notice.”
The eyeballs hesitated. “But there’s still a witness—the girl with the sword—”
“She won’t tell anyone about Shen Ye-gege. Trust me,” the girl interrupted.
“Alright, I’ll get to work—so, are we going to the banquet later, or eating noodles?”
“Noodles.” The girl waved her hand in a downward chop, finalizing her decision.
The eyeballs let out a cheer, but then hesitated.
“You’re really not going to the banquet?”
The girl pouted. “My sister thrives in those settings, but I’m nothing like her. Everyone knows I’m just a useless nobody.”
The eyeballs spun in their sockets, then burst into shrill laughter:
“You? Useless? Hahaha! That’s hilarious!”
The girl only sighed.
“I’m lucky to be alive… Who knows? Maybe tomorrow, I’ll be dead.”
This time, the eyeballs fell silent.
—
Two hours later.
On the other side of the city.
A budget hotel.
The man had washed away the blood and changed into clean clothes.
He sat at the desk, poured himself a glass of liquor, and downed it in one gulp.
The liquor was strong, so strong that he coughed violently.
Only with the burn of alcohol did he feel his condition slightly improve.
He lowered his head.
His flesh was no longer flesh—it was something covered in dense, intricate runes. It felt like rubber, yet softer.
His body twisted.
It was hungry.
A red gleam flickered in his eyes. His brows furrowed as if enduring indescribable torment.
—This was a flesh-puppet body from another world.
If he didn’t feed it in time, it would torment his soul with unbearable pain.
But it was worth it.
After all, through this flesh-puppet body, he had been reborn.
A miracle.
Only a god could perform such a feat!
The man took a deep breath and began chanting a series of cryptic, inhuman incantations.
As crimson light surrounded him, he knelt, speaking with utmost reverence:
“Oh, unfathomable and great being.”
“According to our agreement, I have paid the price. Yet, at the crucial moment, you could have descended—but why did you leave?”
When he finished, he laid low on the floor, not daring to move.
One breath.
Two breaths.
Three breaths.
A strange, fragmented shadow silently emerged in the void before him.
“Fool.”
The shadow gazed down at him, showing no mercy as it swung a black whip, lashing him hard.
The man trembled violently, as if enduring pain beyond human limits, yet he remained low on the ground, not daring to move an inch.
The shadow struck again and again until the flesh puppet on the man’s back was completely shredded. The puppet let out wails of agony as tattered flesh and exposed white bones were revealed. Only then did the whip finally stop.
A brief moment passed.
The shadow spoke.
“There’s an unknown presence lurking in the dark.”
The man’s head shot up in shock.
—He hadn’t sensed anything at all!
“Your power is as feeble as a flickering ember, wholly insufficient to sustain my attacks. The moment I descend, that hidden presence will surely kill you.”
“Do you understand?”
“I understand,” the man replied respectfully.
Knock, knock, knock!
The sound of knocking echoed.
“Come in,” the man said, his voice steady.
The door opened.
A bright and charming young girl stepped into the room, gently closing the door behind her.
The man froze, unable to help but murmur, “She… I clearly already…”
“You did well on this piece,” the black shadow said. “I just stitched her head back on.”
With a light step backward, it merged into Zhao Yibing and vanished.
Zhao Yibing blinked, her vacant expression gradually coming to life as she opened her mouth and spoke in a crisp female voice:
“At first, I thought your world was weak and dull, not even worth mentioning.”
“But then, the Cursed Sculpture of the King of Fallen Evil Spirits that I bestowed upon you was devoured—its power entirely seized.”
“Immediately after, you were defeated as well.”
“Only then did I realize—”
“Your world is full of intrigue, even attracting the descent of other ‘existences’ who lurk in the shadows.”
“My servant.”
“Take me through your world.”
“Let me see what secrets lie hidden within.”
“And while we’re at it, I need to ask him—”
“How did he break the Cursed Sculpture of the Ten Thousand Fallen Evil Ghosts?”
“That sculpture contained power I had gathered for countless years.”
“I will reclaim every last bit of it!”
A look of joy spread across the man’s face.
He crawled to Zhao Yibing’s feet, kissing her toes as he chanted:
“O great and eternal deity, I low myself before you, devoutly heeding your teachings, serving at your side forever.”
Zhao Yibing’s expression grew contemplative. Just then, she heard a clack clack clack sound—like teeth clicking together. She turned her head, snapping back to awareness.
—It was the sound of the flesh puppet.
It was wailing, pleading, suppressing its instincts.
Zhao Yibing understood and finally spoke:
“I have crossed an impossibly vast distance to descend here and revived you in the process… I must replenish what was consumed with souls.”
“And you—having just been revived—if the flesh puppet grows too hungry, it will erode your soul.”
She continued in a commanding tone:
“Go hunt.”
“Kill a thousand people. Bring their souls back to me—the flesh is yours.”
“As you command!” the man responded, bowing low. Silent as a shadow, he crawled backward toward the door, opened it, and slipped out.
A thousand people.
How wonderful.
Only a god would care for him so much.
And only the flesh puppet bestowed by the god could consume that many.
Under divine guidance, his life had already become grander than he had ever dreamed—more magnificent than even his wildest fantasies.
Everything was simply perfect.
Voices drifted from the surrounding rooms.
His hunger only grew stronger.
But no—
The god had said hunt.
How could he stoop to simply plucking from the nearest branch? That would lack refinement.
…Only the finest souls. The highest-quality flesh.
The moment that thought formed in his mind, the flesh puppet seemed to submit to him completely.
—It could read his thoughts.
Now, it no longer tormented him. Instead, it began assisting him with all its might.
This was good.
The man wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with a white handkerchief. At the far end of the corridor, he straightened his appearance in the mirror before stepping elegantly into the elevator.
There was already a girl inside.
“Hello,” the man greeted her with a smile.
The girl glanced at him, and her eyes suddenly lit up.
—This man was incredibly handsome, exuding a mature charm.
“Hello,” she responded with a smile.
“Going to a concert?” he asked, looking at the ticket in her hand.
“Yes, I’m meeting some friends. Do you like this band too?” she asked.
The man nodded. “Their performances are incredible. I love the live atmosphere.”
“Oh? You enjoy that kind of energy? Looks like we’re kindred spirits.” The girl covered her mouth with a laugh.
“Yes, the crowds, the excitement—it gives me a rush, a sense of freedom.”
“Haha, I feel the same way. Maybe that’s the magic of concerts.”
“Exactly.”
Leave a Reply