When the lights went out earlier, Zheng Haiyang thought nothing of it, assuming it was just a normal power outage or a tripped circuit breaker—something common in the countryside nowadays.
Tan Wenbin's heart sank; thoughts of his last meal at the deceased’s home came rushing back, leaving a deep shadow in his heart. Yet, he convinced himself that he was merely being overly sensitive as his hands trembled slightly while holding the chopsticks.
Runsheng, on the other hand, held his chopsticks steady in his right hand, chewing calmly, all the while his left hand gripped the handle of a yellow river shovel leaning against the bench.
The moment the lights flickered back on, Runsheng glanced at the ornate cauldron on the table before his gaze fell directly on Li Zhuiyuan, who sat opposite him. As long as Li Yuan gave a signal, he would have no hesitation in using the shovel to smash the heads of the two old folks beside him.
In fact, when the lights dimmed earlier, Li Zhuiyuan had detected the slight quaver in the voices of the two elderly people. The sound of the large bowl being replaced on the table further set off alarm bells in his mind. Which family would use multiple sharp ends to support the bottom of their bowl?
Eating at home was nothing like dining at a restaurant where one might fear the food turning cold. Why set up a metal frame underneath the bowl to keep the food warm with solid alcohol?
If it weren't for Zheng Haiyang's grandparents' voices being consistently identifiable, Li Zhuiyuan would have doubted whether their heads had ended up inside the newly placed container.
Since it was called “head dish,” it wouldn’t be impossible to think it contained a real human head.
Having been blind before, his hearing was now extraordinarily sharp. Yet, even though he felt something was off, he still couldn’t summon the courage to act out of turn.
In a strange environment, he might have shouted for Runsheng to flip the table before the lights came back, but regardless, this was still Zheng Haiyang’s home, and Zheng Haiyang was his classmate, a good buddy of Tan Wenbin's, who had just lost his parents. He was pitifully vulnerable.
At the instant the lights reignited, the sight of the cauldron sparked a strong sense of rejection in Li Zhuiyuan. What was the purpose of these meaningless emotional bonds? It was downright foolish!
Fortunately, Li Zhuiyuan had the prudence to rein in his instincts and avoid becoming unhinged in such a crisis. He pinched the skin on the back of his left hand with the fingers of his right, twisting hard.
The pain was secondary; the more frightening realization was that this environment was real—it was neither a dream nor a trance.
This brought forth a choice. The fact that Zheng Haiyang’s grandparents could serve the cauldron as a dish meant they were no longer normal. Dreams can end, but once reality changes, it’s often irreparable.
Another similar predicament arose. This time, Li Zhuiyuan did not hesitate. He lifted his eyelids to give Runsheng a knowing look.
Runsheng immediately raised the shovel.
“Clap!”
The lights went out again.
All the talisman papers attached from the bedroom door to the courtyard disintegrated into darkness, falling like ash.
Everything happened too fast; soon the sense of personal space twisted and folded. Though Li Zhuiyuan didn’t move and remained seated, it felt as if he were on a rollercoaster, and his body lurched backward.
“Thud!”
There were three different sounds of something hitting the ground. Some were closer, within five meters, while others were from twenty meters away.
It seemed that all three were caught off guard and had stood up suddenly, only to lose their balance and crash to the ground. Only Li Zhuiyuan, due to still being seated, was able to maintain his stability.
“Ah!”
That was Tan Wenbin's scream, echoing from afar to near, then fading again, reverberating as if in an empty valley.
In the next heartbeat, Li Zhuiyuan heard footsteps behind him, light and quick, as if someone was approaching in cloth shoes.
Out of the four, only Runsheng was in cloth shoes, but one could tell his footsteps were heavy, especially in such a tense situation; he would never move stealthily.
Li Zhuiyuan braced himself against the bench and slid down.
“Buzz!”
A sharp sound of air slicing overhead made him sense a weapon—was someone wielding a knife?
Though he couldn’t see anything in the thick darkness around him, Li Zhuiyuan could imagine an old man or woman standing behind him, wielding a kitchen knife, swinging horizontally where he had been seated moments ago.
Li Zhuiyuan pivoted, pushing off the ground with his feet, instinctively crouched into a horse stance, then clasped the long bench with both hands and pushed forward with all his strength.
He practiced the horse stance and breathing techniques taught by Qin Shu daily, which indeed showed significant results over time. His stance had become solid, enabling him to exert considerable force.
Though still physically inferior compared to classmates in their final year of high school due to age and hasn't fully developed, if it was compared to those his age, he would reign supreme in elementary school.
The bench felt the impact, and the point of contact at the knee easily unbalanced the opponent, who should have fallen.
But before Li Zhuiyuan could take any further action, a powerful sensation of losing spatial awareness flooded over him again. He promptly shut his eyes, hoping to diminish the aftershocks by limiting his sensory inputs, but he suddenly realized standing still was perilous.
He opened his eyes again to perceive everything around him, and in an instant, lost track of up and down, left and right, tumbling ceaselessly as he fell.
Because of this, Li Zhuiyuan heard those chopping sounds again, apparently, the old person whom he had knocked over was going crazy, defiantly hacking at the spot he had previously occupied.
A question flickered through Li Zhuiyuan’s mind. Was it they reacted too slowly, or could they not see either?
“Crack!”
“Crack!”
Two flames flared up, one distant, the other near.
Runsheng and Tan Wenbin had each struck matches, using the light to signal to each other.
Yet why did they ignite at the same moment?
While everyone had been dining inside, and even though the lights went out, moonlight still illuminated outside, now there was no hint of outside brightness anywhere.
So why were flames flaring at this moment?
The match heads continued to burn.
“Xiao Yuan, Xiao Yuan!” came Runsheng's voice.
It was indeed Runsheng calling, yet the distance played tricks, making it hard to decipher precisely which light source it emanated from.
“Xiao Yuan Ge, Xiao Yuan Ge!”
That was Tan Wenbin’s voice, still indistinct as to which flame it belonged.
Li Zhuiyuan scrambled to his feet and dodged the nearby match light, racing toward the farther glow.
One of these flames must be a trap!
Because whether it was Runsheng or Tan Wenbin, even though they coincidentally both came up with the match idea, upon seeing the other’s flame, they would never just stand there foolishly without moving.
To be precise, Runsheng might choose to stay still for attention and wait, but Tan Wenbin, who had screamed earlier, was likely already injured and upon noticing Runsheng’s light, would undoubtedly seek refuge with him.
Tan Wenbin knew who among them had the strength and where it was safest to be.
Even if he had to crawl, he would head there.
Indeed, as Li Zhuiyuan raced a distance away, the flames became clearer, revealing Runsheng and an agony-stricken Tan Wenbin at his side.
They had both lit matches, waiting for him, while the other flame was indeed the trap.
Suddenly, Li Zhuiyuan heard footsteps behind him—still the light footfalls of cloth shoes—but they were still a bit distant.
“Xiao Yuan, beware!”
Runsheng shouted, wielding the yellow river shovel and smashing it forward.
Runsheng was swinging toward himself.
Li Zhuiyuan could see himself there, still under the influence of spatial dislocation. When Runsheng told him to be careful and coupled with the footsteps he'd heard earlier, it meant danger lay just behind him.
This swing was aimed at the person behind him.
However, in his own perspective, it seemed to him to be directed at himself.
It was like answering a question: one had to discern the intentions of the person asking the question. Thus, it seemed the plan was for him to get smacked dead by Runsheng.
If he suddenly tried to evade backward, it might have led him right into the range of Runsheng's strike.
Of course, there was also the possibility of a nested set of predictions, where he would have to anticipate that someone was anticipating his prediction.
Yet, proceeding with the intention to understand the question posed also required grasping the challenger’s set level—similar to the earlier two flaming matches, where the trap felt quite "blatant."
Therefore, no other considerations were needed. Li Zhuiyuan did not evade; on the contrary, he charged toward Runsheng's shovel.
As the shovel swung down, just as Li Zhuiyuan ran ahead, he crashed into Runsheng.
He had judged correctly.
Runsheng was right in front of him; he had no choice but to endure that swing.
“Xiao Yuan!”
Runsheng kept his right hand holding the shovel, while his left arm grabbed Li Zhuiyuan’s.
Now that physical contact had been established, it ensured no more spatial dislocation would occur between them.
Li Zhuiyuan exerted upward force with his hands, and Runsheng understood the cue, lifting his arm to hoist the boy onto his back, whereupon Li Zhuiyuan wrapped his arms around Runsheng’s neck.
“Runsheng Ge, close your eyes.”
“Sure!”
Runsheng complied and closed his eyes, entirely handing over command to the boy.
Li Zhuiyuan also shut his eyes, focusing solely on his sense of hearing.
“Ten steps ahead.”
Runsheng immediately took strides forward.
Tan Wenbin clung to Runsheng’s back shirt, following closely behind.
“Turn left.”
Runsheng pivoted left.
“Walk forward twelve steps, then turn right six steps.”
Runsheng complied instantly.
Around them, the sound of cloth shoes echoed, the urgency of it indicating the two elders with knives were quickly approaching, yet they dared not pounce.
With the boy’s guidance, he only needed to inform Runsheng which direction they were coming from; despite his eyes being closed, Runsheng could crush them with the shovel.
Yet, these two elders, possessed the advantage of vision, still fundamentally remained just two frail old folks.
“Straight ahead, chop with the shovel; this is the kitchen door.”
Runsheng lifted the shovel and began to slash.
In front of him, there was no sound of chopping, suggesting it had been purposely moved far away.
After a series of strikes, Runsheng kicked a few times.
“Advance fifteen steps.”
Runsheng began to progress.
Within Zheng Haiyang's home layout, the dining room and kitchen were together. Exiting from the kitchen led to the living room, which was the only true way out of the house.
This was like a dark maze game, but Li Zhuiyuan had played similar blindfolded games before.
“Right turn, twelve steps, it’s a bit far; bash the door, the living room door has glass; be cautious.”
Runsheng moved to the designated spot and resumed smashing the door.
According to Li Zhuiyuan’s calculations, this unique architectural pattern was probably confined to this house.
Even if the range was a bit larger, that wouldn’t matter—the moment they exited the house, stepping down into the courtyard would be much safer, with neighbors far apart. If absolutely necessary, they could have Runsheng sprint across fields, believing they could easily escape.
Tan Wenbin also understood Li Zhuiyuan’s intentions. He wanted to remind that one person was still missing among them, but he also recognized that Xiao Yuan was too clever to forget Zheng Haiyang’s whereabouts.
Xiao Yuan chose not to search for him and instead prioritize escaping to a safe zone. Tan Wenbin understood that most importantly; now he was merely serving as an ornament on Runsheng's back, not in a position to voice any requests.
They could only move from the dangerous spot first then find a way to rescue Haiyang.
“Alright, it should be broken enough by now. Runsheng Ge, we are heading out…”
“Ah, ah, ah! Ah, ah, ah!”
Zheng Haiyang's agonized cries erupted from just a short distance behind.
“Stop! Stop! Help me! Help me!”
Tan Wenbin clenched his lip, biting hard enough to draw blood, yet he did not say anything more; he couldn’t even afford to grip Runsheng’s shirt any tighter.
The friend he had always protected was now in terrifying peril, yet all he could do was ignore it.
It wasn’t fear; if he were by himself here, even knowing the danger loomed behind him, he would have rushed back to save the person—no hesitation.
But now he was concerned about his actions possibly restraining Xiao Yuan, impacting his judgment.
Zheng Haiyang's screams indeed made Li Zhuiyuan pause, but it was only a small fraction of a pause.
Immediately, he continued with firm instructions:
“Out! Run twenty steps, jump!”
Runsheng started to run, pushing Tan Wenbin behind him to move too.
Runsheng began leaping, and although Tan Wenbin tried counting Runsheng's steps, he struggled to keep pace; he ended up slackening during the final jump.
His knees jarring violently, he toppled over, hitting the ground hard.
But when he opened his eyes, he found the starry night sky and the vegetable fields surrounding him.
They got out!
Tan Wenbin looked ahead; besides the slope, the low concrete wall surrounding Zheng Haiyang's home barely reached a meter high.
Xiao Yuan had calculated the distance earlier, leading Runsheng to leap; he simply hadn’t managed to jump, colliding head-on and tumbling down.
Fortunately, though the collision had hurt, he had scraped his skin, it wasn't a big issue.
Runsheng turned back to glance at the house they had just vacated.
Li Zhuiyuan patted Runsheng's shoulder; Runsheng lifted one hand behind to help settle the boy down smoothly.
“Runsheng Ge, use your shirt to bandage Wenbin Ge.”
“Okay!”
Runsheng stripped off his shirt, torn into strips, wrapping up Tan Wenbin's left arm where he had been cut. It staunched the bleeding, albeit barely.
Earlier, when caught in darkness, Tan Wenbin had suffered a gash from a kitchen knife, bleeding quite a bit. Though it was not a severe problem since he hadn’t been cut by someone as strong as Runsheng.
In contrast, both Li Zhuiyuan and Runsheng went unscathed. Li Zhuiyuan had dodged with his hearing, while Runsheng continuously swung the yellow river shovel to keep the two elders at bay, refusing to let them get close even though he couldn't see.
Tan Wenbin was lucky too—he struck the match in time to reach Runsheng.
Originally, he should have been one of the most vulnerable.
As for the other, they must still be inside the house.
“Runsheng Ge, my compass.”
Tan Wenbin immediately remarked. “It's in the bag, still inside.”
Earlier, the equipment bag lay at Runsheng's feet; the yellow river shovel had been drawn out intentionally, positioned where he could reach it comfortably, a lesson learned from his experience at Zhou Yong’s home dining.
But in the prior darkness, he could only keep a grip on the yellow river shovel without fetching any gear. Yet, Runsheng reached into his pants pocket, pulling out the purple compass.
“This is Xiao Yuan's compass; I've always carried it with me.”
Li Zhuiyuan took the compass, starting to run through situational possibilities in front of him.
Soon enough, he found something unsettling.
“We haven't escaped its influence yet; we are still inside.”
Runsheng hurriedly bent down, preparing to take the boy onto his back again.
Tan Wenbin’s expression tightened with worry—was everything they observed now also fake?
“It’s not a big deal; the area we occupy is only perceivable from the outside. The people outside can’t see the changes to our position; while we remain here, we’ve distanced from the most dangerous area.”
Upon hearing this, Runsheng and Tan Wenbin both sighed with relief.
Tan Wenbin timidly spoke, “Xiao Yuan…”
“I know.”
Li Zhuiyuan kept his head down, continuing to calculate.
As long as he could work it out, the darkness surrounding them felt like being fitted with a light bulb once more. Danger would cease to be a threat.
Li Zhuiyuan had originally intended to instruct Tan Wenbin to run outside to find Tan Yunlong.
Yes, tonight he had come to retrieve something; how could he not inform Tan Yunlong?
Failing to inform him meant if they recovered anything, who would they hand it over to the state?
In fact, Tan Yunlong had been monitoring the perimeter since the afternoon, accompanied by four plainclothes police officers.
They hadn’t approached anyone for greetings because they were never on the same page; Tan Yunlong would remain on the lookout all night regardless.
However, seeing Tan Wenbin's wounds, Li Zhuiyuan thought the situation was dire; the “plaque” effect probably lacked efficacy here.
If they were to call Tan Yunlong over abruptly, it would only heighten their danger once they entered.
“Ah!”
Just then, Zheng Haiyang stumbled through the broken door of the living room, bleeding from several knife wounds.
He was wildly swinging a bench, seemingly in a frenzy to fend off attackers.
On his heels, his grandparents approached step by step, brandishing bloodied knives.
Tan Wenbin yelled at the top of his lungs, “Haiyang! Haiyang! Haiyang! Over here!”
Once he reached the courtyard's edge and descended further, they would be safe.
As long as they could be seen, alone, Runsheng could easily handle the two elders. Even without Runsheng, Tan Wenbin could handle it!
“Shut up!”
“Huh?”
At first, Tan Wenbin didn’t understand but quickly grasped the meaning. Voices transmitted within could also be controlled.
Zheng Haiyang appeared to hear Tan Wenbin's call, albeit misdirecting him; instead of moving toward the trio, he was almost drawn to the sound, progressing diagonally away, presenting his side to his grandparents.
Each of them lifted their kitchen knives and swung.
The grandfather’s knife was notably swift, striking Zheng Haiyang. With a scream, he tumbled and rolled, almost instinctively trying to survive.
Fortunately, he rolled rapidly enough to evade a subsequent thrust from his grandmother.
Yet as he struggled to rise again, he had turned into a gory mess, unsteady on his feet.
However, that very roll got him closer to the edge of the courtyard, nearly within reach of safety.
Zheng Haiyang carefully retreated two steps, now just a mere inch from the edge of the low concrete fence.
But he halted, choosing not to backtrack anymore and rather began to shift leftward, nervously clinging to the bench and shaking his head—an evident sign of confusion from excessive blood loss.
Meanwhile, his grandparents advanced, getting closer and closer.
As this unravelled, Li Zhuiyuan raised his head, flipping the compass upside down and setting it down.
Tan Wenbin felt a surge of delight, assuming Xiao Yuan had calculated their next move successfully.
He looked up at the boy, waiting for instructions.
Yet Xiao Yuan remained silent, his eyes calmly fixed forward.
Tan Wenbin made a move to extend his right hand, stopping just shy of extending too far; he required but a nod from Li Zhuiyuan to clasp Zheng Haiyang's hand, rescuing him into safety.
Li Zhuiyuan tapped Runsheng’s arm, prompting him to sway Tan Wenbin's reaching hand away.
Tan Wenbin’s eyes widened, overwhelmed; he hesitated, kneeling instead, his face etched with conflict and pain.
Zheng Haiyang's grandparents moved closer still, while Zheng Haiyang had nearly lost all ability to react, just posing like a stationary figure.
Li Zhuiyuan began to step backward, glancing momentarily at the kneeling Tan Wenbin.
Runsheng also stepped back but reached out to grab Tan Wenbin’s shirt.
Tan Wenbin fell back to the ground, dragged along.
Fearing making a sound that might draw attention to Zheng Haiyang, both boys contained their emotions, tears streaming down their faces.
After stepping back a good distance, Li Zhuiyuan paused beside Runsheng, peering cautiously toward the courtyard.
Runsheng shifted Tan Wenbin similarly, allowing him to rest atop his form.
With a deep breath, Tan Wenbin pushed himself to rise, signaling to Runsheng that he was indeed alright and then sharing a determined nod with Li Zhuiyuan.
His gaze regained steadiness; although pain still lingered, there was no longer hesitation or struggle.
This made Li Zhuiyuan feel a mix of surprise and a certain rationality; perhaps this was Tan Wenbin’s style.
Like ordinary people, he could be frail, but after faltering, he was quick to rebound and strengthen himself.
The phrase “loving dragons but fearing them” could be derogatory; however, the courage to continuously chase that thrill was an admirable trait.
At last, Zheng Haiyang’s grandparents reached him.
However, the formerly lost look in Zheng Haiyang's eyes astonishingly grew resolute as he snatched the knife from his grandmother, pivoting to face the courtyard and hurling it toward Li Zhuiyuan and the others.
Runsheng swung the yellow river shovel and with a “bang,” deflected the knife away.
Zheng Haiyang's grandfather raised his knife high and swung down, but unfortunately, old age and degeneration caused his weapon to fall just a meter short of the trio.
Then, Zheng Haiyang and his grandparents stood shoulder to shoulder against the fence, coldly staring at the three outside.
In the evening wind, the bodies of the three—a blend of two elders and one youth—gently swayed with the breeze, while water seeped from their eyes, ears, mouths, and noses, fully drenching their clothes.
Tan Wenbin's shock was palpable. Although he had harbored some doubts upon hearing Xiao Yuan’s retreat, standing face to face with the dire truth proved hard to accept.
His good buddy had also been controlled?
Earlier, Zheng Haiyang was so close to the railing, wasn’t he tempting Tan Wenbin to reach out?
If he had indeed extended his hand for rescue, what all would have transpired?
No, had it not been for Runsheng and his timely intervention with Tan Wenbin's outstretched arm, at their existing distance, Zheng Haiyang could have turned the knife and struck him instead.
Had Xiao Yuan not whimsically pulled away in time, the two knives aimed at him would have been nearly impossible to evade.
Tan Wenbin suddenly recalled what Zheng Haiyang had confided the night prior—he expressed no sorrow over the passing of his parents.
Tan Wenbin had consoled him, but now recalling it, perhaps Zheng Haiyang had already been unwell then.
“Xiao Yuan Ge... you noticed all along?”
Out of the two matches, one had been lit by Runsheng and Tan Wenbin, but who had instigated the other?
Just as they had gotten ready to burst through the living room door, Zheng Haiyang's scream rang out perfectly timed, enticing Tan Wenbin to turn back and assist.
While escaping here, they had distanced themselves from the “night”, yet Zheng Haiyang had accordingly emerged into the courtyard.
This entire charade—who was it intended for?
The riddle's author didn’t seem particularly skilled; their intentions were not that difficult to decipher.
However, all of this was merely Li Zhuiyuan’s feelings and speculations—he had no proof to firmly assert that Zheng Haiyang had indeed been coerced into standing there.
The authentic reason for his refusal to act was due to not wanting to gamble.
His relationship with Zheng Haiyang wasn’t extraordinarily close; the bond wasn't profoundly deep enough to undertake significant danger for his sake.
He and Runsheng had taken risks in the past; they had nearly capsized, but that was their own choice to experience; it was different from being forced into one.
However, this rationale would not serve well with Tan Wenbin; it would just make him that much sadder.
Thus, Li Zhuiyuan gave a quiet acknowledgment:
“Mm.”
Tan Wenbin bit his teeth, pointing toward the courtyard, inquired, “Xiao Yuan Ge, are there any chances left for them?”
Li Zhuiyuan's eyes darted to the courtyard’s corner and the doorframe, unable to find any of his talisman papers.
“I don’t know what sustains this ‘night’ from within, but it shouldn’t last long. At the very least, by dawn, this place will return to normal.”
Tan Wenbin’s heart sank. “No... no hope?”
Zheng Haiyang had just lost his parents; now he was to lose his grandparents too—not to mention even himself...
Li Zhuiyuan shook his head.
Whether he could save them, he didn’t know; but he himself lacked the ability to intervene.
Moreover, in Wei Zhengdao's works, it had never mentioned that someone could revert from such a transformation.
If such a method existed, the one buried under the peach tree would have employed it ages ago.
Li Zhuiyuan found he could attempt ‘walking the shadows’, utilizing techniques from the black book to control one of the elders or Zheng Haiyang; yet such actions bore little meaning.
Tan Wenbin vigorously wiped his face, gritting his teeth.
The echoes of that day after school surfaced in Tan Wenbin's mind when Zheng Haiyang had fallen unconscious from overflowing water:
“There’s a turtle buried beneath the sea; who dares uproot it, they'll die along with their family!”
What was down there in the ocean that could be so vicious?
It was real—sparing not a single one, seeking complete annihilation!
Suddenly, Li Zhuiyuan felt his ear tremble.
Runsheng instinctively turned around, shielding the boy behind himself.
A figure dashed forth, more speedily than a cheetah.
However, he barreled toward the courtyard from another direction, not passing by Li Zhuiyuan and the others’ location.
“Xiao Yuan?”
Li Zhuiyuan remained silent; he did not think it necessary for Runsheng to intercept this sudden newcomer.
In truth, the area they occupied was not easily penetrable by an ordinary person; otherwise, Tan Yunlong would have noticed something amiss and rushed over long ago.
At that moment, the man running suddenly turned his head, looking over.
Half his face had swollen significantly, with his eyes seemingly squeezed out, now vacant black sockets.
But he seemed to be smiling.
His single ominous eye fixed intensely on Li Zhuiyuan among the trio.
Li Zhuiyuan didn’t recognize him, but the gaze suggested he appeared to know who he was.
A name surged within—a realization about the individual's identity:
Zhu Changyong!
The one who had accompanied Zheng Haiyang’s parents into the underwater world and returned to shore with them.
The same Zhu Changyong who Xu Wen had been desperately searching for.
He still appeared fit but had lost all vestiges of humanity.
Yet why did he show up now?
Li Zhuiyuan turned back to look at the courtyard and suddenly realized the situation, the adversarial relationship... had been misjudged.
Zhu Changyong leaped onto the courtyard, stepping into “the night.”
His arms began to roam, seemingly struggling to adjust for a moment, but he soon erupted into odd laughter that sounded worn and raspy.
He now resembled a piece of rotting human flesh transforming by the day.
Zheng Haiyang and his grandparents turned toward him simultaneously.
Zhu Changyong lunged forward; darkness had lost its hold over him.
He charged at Zheng Haiyang's grandfather, punching him down, then swiftly neutralizing both Zheng Haiyang himself and his grandmother, tossing them aside with ease.
His skills were remarkable; had it been him attacking earlier in the dark rather than the elders, it was likely none of the trio would have made it out alive.
On the courtyard, it was as if four frenzied beasts were engaging in a brawl, but the beast king reigned victorious over the three.
Zhu Changyong forcefully opened Zheng Haiyang’s mouth, plunging his hand inside. When he withdrew it again, a small, living creature clutched tightly in his grasp.
“Slurp!”
Zhu Changyong yanked the creature out, ripping it apart.
Next, he set his sights back on Zheng Haiyang's grandparents, who, frightened, attempted to flee, only to be hurled back to the ground once more.
Zhu Changyong extracted another living creature from his grandmother’s mouth and crushed it mercilessly.
Finally, Zheng Haiyang's grandfather stood upright, his neck erect; a fleshy bulge emerged conspicuously from his throat.
The height and angle allowed Li Zhuiyuan and his companions, though far back, to clearly see what had emerged from the grandfather’s mouth—a young turtle.
However, unlike any ordinary young turtle, its shell was grayish-purple, reflecting peculiar patterns under the moonlight.
The moment the baby turtle crawled out, Zhu Changyong leaped, seizing it before wrenching its head out of its shell—extending it lengthily, until with a “slurp,” he tore the head off!
Immediately afterward, Zhu Changyong dashed back into the house, and soon after, he emerged holding the ancient cauldron.
He raised it high above him, crashing it against the sharp edge of the concrete fence surrounding the courtyard.
“Bang! Bang! Bang!”
With repeated forceful impacts, the cauldron shattered.
An enormous turtle, akin to a large bowl, propelled out, smacking against Zhu Changyong's chest.
His shirt tore instantly, revealing the contours of his chest that had sunk inward.
Zhu Changyong reached out desperately to pry it off him, but it clung as if by a suction cup, refusing to let go.
“Ah!!!!!!!”
Zhu Changyong extended his arms, tilting his head back, releasing a howl akin to a frustrated wolf. His flesh began to crack, deterioriating further with each agonizing second.
Yet he quickly bent his head down again, leaping off the courtyard and resuming his breakneck sprint.
He retraced almost exactly the same route, barreling back to earlier positions.
Upon passing them he glanced over at the boys.
“Runsheng Ge, chase after him!”
“Got it!”
Runsheng bent and Li Zhuiyuan leaped on board.
Runsheng sprang to his feet as he began running.
Yet even though Runsheng ran fast, with every swing of his arms, Li Zhuiyuan felt the jarring impacts against his shoulder, barely able to keep up.
Zhu Changyong was distancing himself with each moment, now moving in a manner unrecognizable as human.
Mankind could not move joints with such contortion and rotation.
At this moment, Li Zhuiyuan heard a motorcycle rev up, turning to see it was Tan Yunlong.
Despite thorough pre-targeting investigations, the developments still seemed unbelievable.
This reminded Li Zhuiyuan of what Tan Yunlong had said the previous day: handling a case often encounters strange twists, and the oddities arise not from the case itself but from the people involved.
Yet on the final stretch, it seemed they still returned to the established “track.”
Tan Yunlong finally found the Zhu Changyong he sought.
However, Zhu Changyong wasn't running along a road; his path veered strangely into the woods, guiding Li Zhuiyuan’s eyes as he dashed toward the riverbank!
Unable to operate his motorcycle any further, Tan Yunlong had to discard it aside, switching to running after him.
Yet Zhu Changyong was undeterred within the woods; he quickened his pace.
By the time Li Zhuiyuan, Runsheng, and Tan Yunlong emerged from the trees, they saw Zhu Changyong positioned at the gravel quarry by the riverbank below.
At that time, environmental protection wasn’t yet emphasized, and gravel quarries remained active; even at night, machines were still abuzz.
Zhu Changyong stood at the entrance of the machine, turning around to face the pursuing trio.
He appeared unperturbed, seemingly waiting for them deliberately.
At this moment, the turtle that had resisted Zhu Changyong's grasp now seemed frightened, striving to flee, only to be firmly held against him by his binding embrace.
“You must... must...”
He struggled to voice his words, but it came through as a hoarse lament.
His single eye bore into Li Zhuiyuan, desperately conveying messages.
Initially, Li Zhuiyuan presumed Zhu Changyong sought to warn them, urging them not to venture into the underwater depths.
However, what Zhu Changyong cried out was:
“You must... you must go there... obtain it!”
After announcing this, he leaped into the machinery’s entrance below.
In an instant, a violent shower of flesh and fluids burst forth.
Even Tan Yunlong, with his rich investigative experience, was taken aback by the scene; an instinct told him it was a deliberate and self-destructive move!
How many times had he pursued culprits, but this was the first time encountering such a scenario.
The two workers at the gravel site were drawn by the commotion and moved toward the scene. Tan Yunlong immediately ordered them to shut down the machines.
With that coupled sound coming to a halt, an array of people scattered everywhere.
Li Zhuiyuan and Runsheng returned to Zheng Haiyang's home, arriving at the courtyard.
Tan Wenbin knelt silently, staring blankly at Zheng Haiyang’s lifeless body.
Having heard footsteps, he turned to see who was approaching and subsequently pointed at the three corpses laid in front of him:
“Xiao Yuan Ge, he’s dead.”
White shrimp he might have eaten, but had never witnessed the peeling.
He had seen death, been aware of corpses in the river, yet he had never experienced the gore flashing before his eyes, particularly now with such a close companion.
“Bingbing Ge, this is the other side of the world you wanted to see; he isn't as interesting or fun as you envisioned.”
“Mm…”
“If you withdraw now, it’s still not too late.”
Tan Wenbin remained silent.
“Runsheng Ge, get our stuff out and collect all the talismans.”
Tan Yunlong stepped forward, observing the son kneeling down, revealing sorrow in his eyes, but withheld the urge to console him, instead turning toward Li Zhuiyuan:
“小远，告诉我，到底发生了什么事？”
“谭叔，如果我不说的话，你会怎么上报？”
“我只能上报我所看见的，那就是朱昌勇杀人逃跑时，自杀了。”
“就这么上报吧，谭叔。不过，不要提我们。”
“但这不是事实，不是么？”
“谭叔，你上报后，会有另一批人来跟你询问事实的，到时候，你可以把你的猜测，对他们说。”
Tan Yunlong quickly recalled the recent appearance of Ye Shu; that person accompanied him to several locations, clearly not there to investigate criminal activity.
“会有么？”
“会有的，只要谭叔你把朱昌勇这个名字报上去，再把他死前喊的话，也告诉他们；除了我们仨，谭叔你不用有隐瞒。”
“我知道了。”
Tan Yunlong understood—sometimes knowing the truth beforehand made it burdensome to engage in inquiries.
This boy wasn’t trying to conceal anything; he was looking out for him.
Li Zhuiyuan approached Tan Wenbin, giving him a gentle pat on the back:
“Bingbing Ge, let’s head home first.”
Runsheng stood ready by the tricycle, waiting. Li Zhuiyuan hopped on.
The tricycle barely ventured far before it came to a halt.
Someone had caught onto the back.
Li Zhuiyuan turned his head, spotting Tan Wenbin catching up; determination flickered within his eyes.
He seemed to have resolved something within himself—he knew that the true horror behind Zheng Haiyang’s demise originated from that oceanic depth.
For the first time, as Tan Wenbin mentioned the nickname given to him by Li Sanjiang, he bore no playful demeanor, but with utmost seriousness said:
“Why didn’t you wait for me? Zhuang Zhuang also wants to go home.”
(End of Chapter)