"Oh, you chose this yourself. Don't regret it."
"How could I regret it? That's impossible!"
Once, an opportunity to leave presented itself, and he didn't cherish it. Now, Tan Wenbin truly felt remorseful.
He understood that to get Zhou Yong to "speak" and uncover the truth behind this matter, they had to drink this round of wine properly.
Tan Wenbin turned to Li Zhuyuan again, seeing that his little brother was tapping his bowl with chopsticks, looking like a child at play. He then glanced at Runsheng. This time, Runsheng didn’t avoid his gaze but instead looked back at him.
A warmth surged in his heart; after all, these were his roommates with whom he shared a table at night.
"Little brother, Runsheng, if I have a problem after drinking this, remember to tell my dad that I am not a coward."
With his mental preparations done, Tan Wenbin reached for the wine bowl. At that moment, Runsheng stood up and took the wine bowl from in front of Tan Wenbin. He then waved the bowl in front of Zhou Yong, raising it to his lips and drank it all in one go. After that, he didn't stop; he took the remaining two bowls in front of Zhou Yong and drank them one after another.
Tan Wenbin was so moved that tears welled up in his eyes.
Li Zhuyuan only glanced sideways, then continued to tap his chopsticks against the bowl.
He wasn’t surprised by Runsheng's action. But on the other hand, it was truly tough for Runsheng; he knew well that if he had a choice, Runsheng would have preferred to eat the flavorful meat.
The dishes on the table and the wine in the bowl were dirty, but not dirty enough. To him, they looked like the flesh of pigs, cows, and sheep, but just because one liked to eat meat didn’t mean they liked to eat offal.
Runsheng's boldness quickly brought joy to Zhou Yong, who began to pour more wine for Runsheng and invited him to clink glasses. In the meantime, he pointed to the dishes on the table, reminding Runsheng not to forget to use the food to balance the wine.
Runsheng completely let go of any hesitation, directly grabbing food from the table and stuffing it into his mouth, chewing loudly and lazily.
After wiping his mouth, he raised his bowl again to continue clinking glasses with Zhou Yong.
The table became a scene of revelry, where those drinking paid no mind to anyone else around them.
Li Zhuyuan and Tan Wenbin thus found themselves free from pressure; the two could quietly sit there like air.
Finally, as the dishes dwindled and the drinking grew merrier, Li Zhuyuan stuck his chopsticks into his rice bowl.
Runsheng put down his wine bowl and tapped on the table.
Zhou Yong also put down his wine bowl, returning to his original sitting position.
His mouth started to open and close rapidly, making sounds similar to a chanting style used during ceremonial rites, but the tone was clear yet difficult to discern.
This strange melody made Li Zhuyuan feel sleepy.
Unable to hold back, he yawned, forcibly driving away his drowsiness, then looked at Zhou Yong with a hint of dissatisfaction. He felt Zhou Yong was not sincere in their communication.
But glancing to his sides, he saw both Runsheng and Tan Wenbin had now closed their eyes, their bodies gently swaying from side to side, succumbing to slumber. Obviously, Zhou Yong was indeed communicating with them.
What he had just felt as fatigue was actually Zhou Yong's "invitation."
His own instincts had rejected it.
Li Zhuyuan suspected that perhaps because he had been frequently traversing the underworld lately, he had developed a sort of resistance.
But sometimes, this vicious cycle was unavoidable, just like now.
Leaning on his elbow on the table with his chin resting on his hand, Li Zhuyuan's eyelids drooped slightly; in his right hand, he picked up a chopstick and tapped the rim of the bowl:
“Ding!”
He successfully stepped into the realm of the dream.
He was in, but it felt as if he was not entirely there. Through his eyes, he saw Runsheng, Tan Wenbin, and Zhou Yong conversing, yet there was a layer of shifting gel between him and the scene.
Li Zhuyuan attempted to reach out, sensing resistance. When he tried to push through, the distorted image revealed both Runsheng and Tan Wenbin contorting in pain.
Seeing this, Li Zhuyuan had no choice but to give up.
Though he had become relatively proficient in traversing this realm, he did not know how to directly enter someone's established "dream."
Ah Li could.
This led him to mistakenly believe that he ought to be able to do this too, or rather, he did not think it would pose a problem.
He could only blame his self-taught shortcomings.
However, instead of waking himself, he decided to take this opportunity to observe carefully.
Getting up from his seat, he noticed that the table had formed its own small world, enveloped in an invisible gel that bound the three of them together.
Li Zhuyuan walked in circles around the table.
He felt there must be specific methods to immerse himself within this realm.
For instance, in the dark book of Wei Zhengdao, the second step in manipulating the dead was to attune one's consciousness waves to be in sync with those of the deceased, allowing entry.
But in this instance, it wasn't just Zhou Yong; there was also Runsheng and Tan Wenbin. How to tune into the frequency of one dead and two living?
Or was it that they had blended into one frequency?
Li Zhuyuan raised his hand and gently tapped on the gel barrier before him.
In the distorted image, Runsheng and Tan Wenbin again exhibited troubled expressions.
Well, it wasn’t the time for specific experiments.
Suddenly, Li Zhuyuan felt a hand gently tugging at him.
Looking down, he saw a girl.
The girl was crouching on the ground, her shoulders shaking; she was crying.
When Li Zhuyuan first entered the house, he had passed through the underworld, but at that time, the girl and her mother were in the kitchen, not in the living room.
Now, from this perspective, the white grains covering the girl began to writhe.
No, these were no grains. They were a mass of white maggots crawling in and out of her body.
The girl looked up, her gaze meeting Li Zhuyuan's.
She opened her mouth, as if trying to scream silently, and the white maggots covering her eyes quickly scattered, revealing blood tears seeping from her dark eye sockets.
She was trying to tell him that she was in great pain, that she was suffering, and that she wished for release.
The black cat had once told Li Zhuyuan that for the dead, the more cognitive ability they possess, the heavier the suffering they bear.
The dead were a collective of resentment, and their deeper grudges sustained their ability to withstand pain.
But what if someone devoid of those resentments also retained clarity in their thoughts?
That would equate to placing oneself directly in a sea of fire, undergoing sheer torment.
In the girl, Li Zhuyuan sensed no resentment, only profound suffering.
Turning his gaze towards Zhou Yong, who was bound within the gel, he understood.
Some things could be known through silent eye contact, even without verbal communication.
The girl was clearly forcefully retained, and the one holding her back or harboring a deep grudge because of her departure was surely Zhou Yong.
In the kitchen, the firelight flickered. According to table etiquette, the last dish should be soup.
Li Zhuyuan walked into the kitchen but found no trace of the woman.
He approached the stove and saw a black soup boiling furiously inside.
Just then, the bellows made a sound again.
Li Zhuyuan looked down to see a hand reaching out from behind the counter, gripping the handle of the bellows and pulling it.
He walked further back to the back of the stove, following that hand but saw no woman sitting there.
Because the arm was reaching out from inside the stove.
Li Zhuyuan crouched down to align with the mouth of the stove.
Inside, the woman also looked up and smiled at Li Zhuyuan.
This stove was not fueled by wood but by the woman herself.
She was crammed into the tight stove, flames roared on her body, fueling the soup in the pot continuously boiling.
However, a look of comfort rested on her face.
Perhaps, through this self-immolating method, she could ease the horrific pain she had inherently borne.
Li Zhuyuan had recently self-harmed, and he understood this feeling.
Zhou Yong wanted to maintain the integrity of this household. Hence… he dragged his wife and daughter down into hell with him.
Perhaps at first, Zhou Yong didn't realize things would develop this way.
But now, to say he was unaware would be somewhat absurd.
He knew, yet chose to willfully deceive himself selfishly.
However, one thing was certain: the person who had taught Zhou Yong this method was aware of the consequences of his actions. What could be their purpose for him?
At first, one could assume they were a kind person, feeling pity for Zhou Yong, who had lost his wife and daughter, and using this method to "assist" him.
But as things stood now, that assumption clearly didn't hold water; anyone capable of such actions had no link to "kindness."
Arriving at the kitchen doorway, seeing that the conversation outside was still ongoing, Li Zhuyuan's gaze fell on the girl again as he waved his hand at her.
The girl crawled over.
Earlier, during the meal, she had been forced to play the role of a "daughter," while the woman was forced to play the role of a "wife."
Strictly speaking, they were both Zhou Yong's shades.
But Zhou Yong did not possess such strength; he and the Tai Sui dead encountered in the graveyard could not be compared.
That copper coin was still buried in the graveyard, and Li Zhuyuan still dared not take it.
The girl crawled to Li Zhuyuan's feet, trapped in this place, enduring the torment, and this boy had become the only outsider there.
What fueled her to crawl closer was her instinct to seek death.
Li Zhuyuan placed his hand on the girl's head, sensing the writhing beneath her hair, knowing what it was.
But at that moment, he had to ignore it.
According to the method in the black book, he began to adjust his consciousness waves.
He wanted to see, from the girl's perspective, what the person who arranged all of this for Zhou Yong looked like.
It was simple; he succeeded immediately, for the girl resisted not at all but cooperated willingly.
In Li Zhuyuan's vision, a blue mosquito net appeared around him. He lay on a small bed, unable to muster the strength to even sit up.
Someone was crying. Turning his head, he saw Zhou Yong leaning by the large bed, crying his heart out.
On the large bed lay a woman—she was already dead.
Zhou Yong clutched his wife's hand and sobbed bitterly.
After a time, he began to pound the ground, hurling curses into the air—his general lament was why life and fate treated him so cruelly and why such suffering was forced upon him.
Just then, a voice float in from outside:
"I can bring your family together again."
The speaker wasn't inside the room but rather outside, projecting through the window.
What surprised Li Zhuyuan was that the tone sounded familiar—no, very intimate—as if it came from someone close to him.
Yet for a moment, despite counting through his web of connections, he couldn't pinpoint the source of the voice.
Zhou Yong looked up in confusion, rushing to the window, seemingly wanting to inquire who was speaking.
Next should be further conversation and development; he should surely learn how the owner of that voice convinced Zhou Yong and directed him in his arrangement of the donations.
However, Li Zhuyuan did not see the follow-up, as the girl was too weak; she closed her eyes.
An eternity of darkness.
Li Zhuyuan waited patiently, sensing the girl’s death approached.
Sure enough, the darkness began to shift.
Light started seeping back in.
When the girl opened her eyes again, Zhou Yong stood by her bed.
At this moment, there was no longer despair on Zhou Yong's face; instead, a joyous expression radiated from his heart.
“Lingling, don’t be afraid. I’ve found a way for our family to live together! Don’t be scared, Dad and Mom will always be with you.”
The girl closed her eyes again.
Now, she should be nearing death.
Yet just as Li Zhuyuan prepared to withdraw, he suddenly felt unable to breathe, followed by a scorching sensation in his lungs.
What was happening?
If she was dying of illness while lying in bed, such a severe reaction should not occur.
Li Zhuyuan sensed a dreadful suffocation. He had felt this way the first time he drowned and encountered the little yellow warbler—he did not wish to experience it again.
He pulled back.
However, although he had withdrawn, the girl’s pain still surged within him, as if he had begun to transform into her, experiencing all her emotions.
This was a literal—sympathy in suffering.
Her torment, her grievances, her despair boiled over within him like a kettle threatening to burst its lid when the water boiled.
Li Zhuyuan recalled the "it" in the fish pond, which was full of soulless faces.
Unexpectedly, the method taught in the black book had immediate and severe side effects upon his first successful use of it.
Li Zhuyuan could not help but wonder: Am I a fool?
Wei Zhengdao taught this technique to you, and on your first attempt, this situation arose. You continue using this to manipulate the dead?
Were you overly reverent toward Wei Zhengdao, or were your own greed and stubbornness at play, believing you were the exceptional one capable of solving such side effects?
If the latent risks surfaced gradually afterward, it could be explained, but here, the symptoms were so plain and direct…
Ha, you truly have no standing to resent Wei Zhengdao.
No matter how fierce the flame is, if it is not continuously fed with fuel, it will soon extinguish.
Here, the fuel is your own emotions.
Yet alas, Li Zhuyuan had none.
The fire was extinguished.
Li Zhuyuan felt within him a sense of profound sorrow.
This was akin to having his wounds ripped open before him, being pointed at, told he was a monstrous thing wearing human skin. Yes, the side effect manifested this way.
He wouldn’t leave as many faces on his body as “it” in the fish pond did.
But this opened up a new line of thought for Li Zhuyuan.
The little girl might not be able to help, but what if he controlled a more powerful dead?
If controlled and managed well, could he keep a fire of genuine feelings that wouldn’t be extinguished?
Unfortunately, it was not the time to ponder such things; he still had essential tasks to complete.
In his sights, the girl remained crouched on the ground, sobbing in profound pain.
Li Zhuyuan withdrew his hand and glared at the girl; she seemed not to have died of illness but of… murder.
His gaze shifted back to Zhou Yong. Did you kill her?
Zhou Yong certainly had a motive. He had acquired the method, prompting his daughter's early death to facilitate the application of it.
Yet there was also the possibility.
But alas, the girl’s perspective offered too little information; he needed more angles.
Li Zhuyuan returned behind the stove, crouching down once more to meet the gaze of the woman who was being burned alive.
He knew that it was after the woman’s death that the individual first established contact with Zhou Yong.
From the woman’s viewpoint, she certainly could not see that person.
Yet he only wished to confirm if she had truly died of natural causes.
After locking gazes, he adjusted his frequency.
Like the girl, the woman did not resist but actively cooperated, significantly easing the difficulty.
Li Zhuyuan’s perspective shifted again, similarly to before, but this time it showed a larger bed encircled by a larger blue mosquito net.
Li Zhuyuan began to glide past unrelated visual experiences when a puzzling thought arose.
According to his current sensory experience, the woman seemed far from death.
Could her condition have worsened unexpectedly?
Or, perhaps the woman’s death was not normal either.
If anything was abnormal here, surely it had nothing to do with Zhou Yong; at this point, he was still desperately trying to salvage his wife and daughter's lives.
Just then, Li Zhuyuan heard peculiar footfalls.
He promptly halted his swift movement, immersing himself in perception.
These steps were not made by footwear; their sound resembled a kind of plastic friction, light and brief, indicating the owner’s shoes would not be long… a child?
The woman’s eyes widened; she seemed to want to turn her head, but she lay there, her limbs unresponsive.
She must possess the same hereditary ailment as her daughter.
Like the element of himself and Li Lan.
A small hand held a white towel appeared in his vision; it was smooth and small, undoubtedly a child's hand.
The towel covered the woman’s mouth and nose, the feeling of suffocation began to intensify.
Then a face poked into view.
Li Zhuyuan froze, for this face was his own!
"Himself" stared listlessly at the woman, and since he lived through her eyes, it was as if he was now making eye contact with “himself.”
In that instant, Li Zhuyuan recalled the voice he had heard from the girl’s perspective; it had come from outside the window—the strong familiarity he felt made sense.
Much of his speech bore a tone distinct from how he heard himself on a recording.
In the dark, he matched this voice to everyone around him but had failed to connect with himself.
Now, the "self" in front of him spoke:
"You’re dying too slowly; you’re ruining my practice rhythm."
This statement was like a cue; as soon as it was said, a powerful distortion overwhelmed him. This moment caused his sense of identity to peel away, casting him into a whirlpool of “who am I?”
But this scene felt familiar to Li Zhuyuan. He often faced this loss of self-recognition whenever he fell ill, filled within a glacial void.
In previous times, this sensation emerged from his mind, but now it came from outside, albeit with diminished potency.
In his long battle with illness, he had learned to cope without mentally chanting many names, simply repeating Ah Li’s name and envisioning her form sufficed to regain steadiness.
Of course, during this time, he muttered the name of Tai Ye twice as well.
Then the feeling gradually faded.
It was a mild bout this time; it felt much like it was all over before he had even begun to sweat.
His vision turned entirely dark because the woman had died.
Li Zhuyuan pulled back from that connection, still crouching in front of the stove, where the woman inside continued to burn.
The firelight danced over Li Zhuyuan's face, casting his features in a flickering glow.
In truth, his expression was indeed grim.
For he felt a sense of being offended.
He had certainly not killed the girl or the woman; neither had he taught Zhou Yong this method.
There was no self-doubt nor minimal internal confusion.
He understood; that was not him—this was a trap.
The feng shui layout on the stone bridge and the reflections on the small pond… all these tactics were done beautifully, yet to Li Zhuyuan, they appeared rather juvenile.
Yet within these simplistic traps, a pit had been dug.
This sensation felt as if he were wandering through thorns; while it was troublesome, a mere pole could suffice to clear a path. Yet who knew, when nearing the end, he would trigger a mine?
Setting aside that the individual behind this might simply have an evil sense of humor, it was highly likely that after arranging this all for Zhou Yong, there was still a more adept hand laying out a trap.
A trap crafted for his kind.
Although he wasn't himself, what he said must have held truth; he mentioned "practice rhythm."
Coincidentally, Li Zhuyuan was in this practice phase himself.
A newcomer treading the path of arranging feng shui, often with an older mentor or teacher alongside, became disallowed to linger in case secrets spilled out.
In the face of his wife and daughter’s anguished turmoil, Zhou Yong selfishly clung to the individual teaching him the method, unaware that his entire family had merely become that person’s experimental subjects.
Li Zhuyuan slowly raised his head, murmuring:
"Alright, is this how you want to play?"
But the next moment, his expression changed drastically; it was evident, the other party could hardly know of the techniques from Wei Zhengdao’s black book, nor understand that he was retrieving memories. Thus, the earlier distortion of self-recognition… wasn’t a deliberate targeting of him.
Was it aimed at this woman?
No, rather she and her daughter were trapped as shadows; their states of existence relied solely on Zhou Yong.
Thus, this identity confusion trap had been a foreshadowed strategy targeting Zhou Yong.
Not good; Runsheng and Tan Wenbin were in danger!
Li Zhuyuan raised his hand and slapped his right cheek.
“Smack!”
He awoke.
As he opened his eyes, he saw Runsheng and Tan Wenbin still in their dreams.
Yet Zhou Yong had already stood up, leaning closely to Tan Wenbin's face, inhaling sharply.
White fog began to seep from Tan Wenbin’s nostrils and mouth, being drawn into Zhou Yong.
Tan Wenbin had already turned a shade of pale.
Li Zhuyuan's actions of awakening surprised Zhou Yong, who turned his head with deliberate slowness to gaze at Li Zhuyuan.
His eyes, once full of white goo, were now stained crimson.
The traps laid by that person were right there!
In the past, Zhou Yong had truly been Zhou Yong—he was selfish but not frenzied towards outsiders; at least, his selfishness only targeted his wife, daughter, and family, not seeking to slay outsiders.
Otherwise, he would have already acted against the villagers who saw him or rejected Li Zhuyuan's "communication" terms.
He genuinely wished to invite guests into his home, treating them to "good wine and food," to illustrate his family's unity, something he longed to display.
Facing such a dead one, who wouldn’t harm others, was willing to communicate and bring you home, most people would sympathize and understand, thus lowering their guard.
But during pivotal moments of his story, the traps laid out would trigger. The filth in Zhou Yong's eyes faded, his recognition distorted, revealing the most primitive instincts of the dead.
This trap was cunning, not merely in technique but also entwined with human emotions.
Had Li Zhuyuan been drawn into the dream to share heartfelt conversation, they would now be three sitting there, awaiting to get bled dry one by one.
Of course, most importantly, Zhou Yong was nowhere near the mighty Tai Sui dead; his main energy was devoted to maintaining that dream to keep Runsheng and Tan Wenbin from awakening, leaving the remainder to propel his real self to commit murder.
This explained why his motion was so slow; this very slowness granted Li Zhuyuan the time to respond.
Li Zhuyuan moved, not rushing to rescue Tan Wenbin, who was in critical danger, but instead directly took the bowl in front of him and smashed it against Runsheng's face!
“Bang!”
The bowl shattered, drawing blood from Runsheng's forehead, but it also jolted him awake.
He immediately grasped the situation and grabbed the yellow river spade, which he had purposefully left by his feet during the meal, swinging it directly at Zhou Yong's head!
“Thud!”
Zhou Yong fell to the ground.
The dream he had maintained collapsed.
Tan Wenbin fell heavily onto the table, face down, hitting it hard.
After checking Tan Wenbin, Li Zhuyuan felt a huge sense of relief; he was still alive and breathing.
Tai Ye promised to bring Tan Wenbin here, mindful of needing additional help. It was fortunate that he had brought Tan Wenbin along this time, as it provided Zhou Yong with another target to feed on.
Tan Wenbin had bought them some time by immersing himself in this trap for them.
Had he been the first target or even Runsheng, they would have found themselves truly in dire straits.
The fight between Runsheng and Zhou Yong persisted.
In theory, the dead possessed tremendous strength. However, Zhou Yong drew his strength from absorbing the residuals of energy each day at the feng shui site, and when he returned home, he created the illusion of family unity with his own power.
Today, he also engineered a dream to draw the two in, still digesting some energy from Tan Wenbin as reinforcement, yet he remained at a loss.
Meanwhile, Runsheng, regardless of how the previous dishes were, had indeed eaten.
At this moment, Runsheng pinned Zhou Yong down; no matter how Zhou Yong struggled, he could not rise.
However, Zhou Yong clutched the yellow river spade tight with both hands, preventing further attacks. Runsheng had no choice but to grip the spade with his left hand to maintain the standoff while continuously hammering the fist of his right hand into Zhou Yong's chest.
“Bang! Bang! Bang!”
Each punch found its mark, and with every strike, a wave of black energy dispersed from Zhou Yong's form.
Li Zhuyuan walked over to the bag and took out the black canvas, revealing the stamp box hidden within his pocket. Quickly, he pressed down with his five fingers, retrieving it, and drew five long red marks on the black canvas.
It had been proven that within all the tools he possessed, this black canvas held the greatest lethality toward the dead.
The one in his hand was newly repaired, and its power would undoubtedly be heightened because the wood flowers within it had been carved by Ah Li at her family’s shrine.
Just as Li Zhuyuan planned to step forward and use the black canvas on Zhou Yong to suppress him, Zhou Yong suddenly opened his mouth and let out a piercing scream.
A large and small shadow darted out rapidly—both the girl and the woman leaped onto Runsheng. The woman clawed at Runsheng's back with her nails, drawing trails of blood, while the girl sank her teeth into Runsheng's neck, hanging onto him.
"Ugh!"
Under such an assault, Runsheng suddenly lost his strength; not only did he collapse off Zhou Yong, but he was also trapped by the mother and daughter combination.
Zhou Yong stood up and immediately bore down on Runsheng, his eyes reflecting a fierce crimson light, revealing the brutality within him.
Li Zhuyuan gripped the black canvas, preparing to act, yet Zhou Yong and the mother-daughter duo simultaneously turned their heads toward him.
This caught Li Zhuyuan off guard; while the black canvas held immense power, its requirements were highly restricted, generally serving as a supplementary method post-control of death.
Should he cast it before them, they would dodge, or even if it would initially cover them, in their pain, they would toss the black canvas away or even rip it apart.
Though they appeared to be pressing Runsheng right now, should he dare to draw closer or make any move, one of them would quickly rush toward him.
"Little Yuan, run! Don’t pay attention to Binbin!"
Runsheng shouted.
No matter how fierce he was, he couldn’t contend against three; he now resolved to stall them desperately, providing Little Yuan an opportunity to escape.
Li Zhuyuan did not flee; instead, he half-closed his eyes, feeling his eyelashes flutter rapidly, his body trembling.
"Listen to me; I can help you end this torment."
"Listen to me—and I will release you from your suffering!"
"Listen to me; I can help you leave his bondage!"
Li Zhuyuan's eyes shot open as he raised his hand, pointing straight at Zhou Yong.
Almost simultaneously, the girl and woman released Runsheng, instead lunging at Zhou Yong, toppling him to the ground.
With the sudden turn of the odds, Runsheng relished the three-on-one action.
Not hesitating, he sprang up, seizing the yellow river spade and positioning it around Zhou Yong's neck, truly succeeding in holding him down.
Amid it all, astonishment filled Runsheng's eyes.
No wonder my grandfather has always told me to listen to Little Yuan—he even repeated it to me today! Little Yuan is truly impressive; even the dead are responding to him now!
Li Zhuyuan ambled towards Zhou Yong, still under a controlled state, moving as though he were intoxicated.
This trait felt much like Zhou Yong before, as he struggled to maintain the dream while acting slowly in reality.
Finally, Li Zhuyuan found himself at Zhou Yong’s side, crouching down, and draping the black canvas over Zhou Yong’s face.
“Aagh!!!”
A shriek echoed, yet there was no worry about disturbing others; Zhou Yong's home was isolated within the village and the foggy arrangements outside remained.
This time, the black canvas poured its effects into Zhou Yong with several times the strength; swelling clouds of mist surged forth like a dam bursting.
Forced to pull away the black canvas, he witnessed Zhou Yong’s weakened breath; his struggles had grown faint.
Moreover, the blood in his eyes faded, once again enveloped in white goo; this indicated the trap's effects were nullified, and he reverted to his original self.
Runsheng, in confusion, wondered why Little Yuan was not covering the black canvas back on him to kill him outright.
Earlier, they had discussed that open communication would lead to parting ways peacefully.
However, it was evident Zhou Yong was the one breaking the rules. Thus they could act without reservations and subdue him.
Before long, it seemed Runsheng reached an understanding, eyes lighting up with excitement:
"Little Yuan, thank you! I will make sure to feast on him!"
Just as Runsheng opened his mouth, ready to bite down, a cold voice interrupted:
"Runsheng, don’t devour him. Since someone has already plotted against us…"
Runsheng lifted his head, seeing Little Yuan smiling, yet this smile lacked the familiar warmth he once had, and instead reminded him of a boy who had crouched by the creek after receiving a call that night.
Li Zhuyuan lowered his gaze at Zhou Yong, gently patting his grotesque, disfigured face covered in ugly blotches:
"Then, I will return him a great one."
(End of Chapter)