The resurrected are born from the manifestation of the Descent.
While it's common for modern high school students to pray for the end of the world, Goulson struggled to resist the temptation.
In the preparation time before interviewing the next candidate, Cheng Xiangwu needs to visit the South Suburb Prison to check on Qin Zixi's current situation.
Located in the southern suburbs of Mori Lake City, the prison not only houses criminals from the city itself, but also, due to its advantageous location and the city's laid-back atmosphere, serves as a place for non-special serious offenders from several surrounding cities. It's not only large in number, but its area is comparable to a public university town. The security personnel here are mostly on lifetime contracts, come from various regions, live in dormitories, and work regular shifts.
At first glance, the only difference between the outside and inside of the station seems to be their clothing, a comment made by Xiao Fu.
"So do you know Qin Zixi's exact release date?" Xiao Fu asked. She didn't try to avoid the high school student in the back seat when discussing topics that were inappropriate for minors, which was of course intentional.
"These past two days," Cheng Xiangwu didn't seem to care much. "You can just ask the guards about this."
It was obvious that Golson then realized the car was heading to prison. She sat up several times in the back seat, but eventually leaned back down.
"What a pity," Little Franz sighed.
To avoid being questioned if they were driving without a license, everyone except Cheng Xiangwu parked at a bus station square about one kilometer away from the prison gate. I got out of the car and walked to my destination. After walking for about five minutes, the road under my feet was no longer paved; it was a stone road shared by pedestrians and vehicles. The uneven 1.5-lane road was flanked by wild green belts, with tall grass occasionally peeking out of the natural area. The shrubs and tall trees grew lushly, but offered no shade for pedestrians.
Looking back now, it wasn't the first time she'd walked this path lined with lush, thorny greenery on both sides. Long ago, the lawyer assigned to her by the government had led her here, coldly declaring he had an explanation for her. But she remembered neither the final explanation nor the lawyer's words; she only remembered the long road, the people walking so fast, and the old shoes that had become a little uncomfortable on her toes.
That was the last time, the first time, the penultimate time, but this time she didn't have to go in.
The guards at the prison gate stopped Cheng Xiangwu. She showed her ID, explained the situation, and stated her purpose. The guard made a phone call and informed her that Qin Zixi would not be allowed to approach any area within ten kilometers of her residence the next morning. No further details could be obtained.
Cheng Xiang nodded, thanked him, and left the hot and heavy iron gate and the seemingly endless wall with some concern and sympathy.
The way back is short.
Inside the car, the air was unusually quiet. Cheng Xiangwu, not understanding why, reached out and turned on the air conditioner. The vents quickly expressed their opinion, and the cold air, carrying some dust, circulated in the car. Logically, this should have made people feel more comfortable.
"Where does your reasoning come from?" Little F asked.
"What's wrong?" Cheng Xiangwu turned around and asked Gorsen.
"...It's nothing, it's much cooler with the air conditioning on, haha!" Gao Ersen said cheerfully. Cheng Xiangwu thought to herself that this high school student probably didn't know the huge difference between a genuine smile and a fake smile.
She didn't say anything, fastened her seatbelt, but the driver showed no sign of starting.
"...What's wrong?" Cheng Xiang asked the driver.
"Look at my memory! Of course I'm the driver. Who else in this car could be responsible for killing someone?" Little Franz said with a smile. "If I'm not the driver, what am I? Some evil foreign riddle teller who exploits poor high school students?"
"Hehe." Golson chuckled softly, then quickly pretended that he hadn't breathed.
"Really?" Cheng Xiangwu wondered what this person was introducing himself about.
"...Look at what you're saying." Little Ferguson suddenly felt a little smug.
The evil foreign riddle driver started the vehicle. Cheng Xiangwu looked out the window at the small, leafy vines and shrubs that were gradually disappearing from sight, pondering how to find out the person's exact address.
"Qin Zixi's whereabouts after his release from prison isn't a difficult mystery to guess. If nothing unexpected happens, he was unemployed anyway, and his only place to rest besides prison was his own home, not to mention he has a child," Xiao Fu said.
Gorson recalled Xie Wuchang's previous statement and began to have some guesses in his mind.
“I never intended to kill his child,” Cheng Xiangwu said. “Neither did his wife.”
“Although I didn’t mean it that way, even if two people died because of him, are you only planning to make up for one?” Little Fran asked.
Cheng Xiangwu did not answer the question. She knew that this person did not believe that Qin Zixi was the real culprit, so there was no need to answer the question she raised about whether or not to make amends.
"However, now his child has been prematurely caught in this karmic hole. Should we just say that fate is unpredictable, a comforting phrase that only works when standing on a moral high ground?" Little F continued, adding more adjectives.
"...Is his child also one of my classmates?" Golson asked cautiously.
"Yes," Cheng Xiangwu replied, but she had no further intention of dragging this high school student into her private affairs.
Of course, Goulson didn't have that mind-reading ability. She leaned on the passenger seat shoulder and muttered, "There are many classmates with the surname Qin, but I remember one person who doesn't—"
"Sen Sen, this has nothing to do with you." Cheng Xiangwu looked in the rearview mirror. "Sit still."
“…Oh, sorry.” Gorson quickly shrank back. “I just listened to what Xie Wuchang said. If she can agree with it, then I have no reason to deny it. Although the police are annoying, their values are generally reasonable. So, I…”
"Hmph, your sister Xiangxiang is a professional when it comes to the value of human capital," Xiao Fu said with a smile.
"Did you tell her about me?" Cheng Xiangwu asked.
“No—” Golson pulled back, “I was just curious why we came to the prison, and then Sister Fov said I should ask you myself, so I just asked her indirectly, but if you don’t want to talk about it, we won’t discuss it.”
"Sit tight and fasten your seatbelts," Cheng Xiangwu said.
"Why don't you trust me at all?" Xiao Fu said, distressed. "Whether as a driver or a partner, I thought my resume was enough to convince you to trust me unconditionally."
Cheng Xiangwu had nothing to say; he was in a difficult position with both sides.
“No way.” Little Fu looked at Goulson in the rearview mirror. “Let’s talk about that classmate. Let’s not go into the details. I’m still very curious about the background story of that person who is about to die tomorrow. If we don’t tell you now, we won’t have the chance.”
Cheng Xiangwu didn't want to know. Originally, all she had to do was chase after someone and kill them. If there was something more to this story, then she would have many more things to do. She looked to her left, while Xiao Fu, of course, kept his eyes on the road like a good driver. She turned her head and said nothing more.
"So, I'll tell you then?" Golson gripped his seatbelt and glanced at the two people in the front row.
“Please,” said Little F.
In Class 3, Grade 1 of Senhu No. 2 Middle School, there was a student named Qin Le, whose name means "musical instrument." She didn't play any musical instruments, had no outstanding talents, and her grades were just average. Her family situation was evident from her smell—it wasn't good. Every class has a few students who aren't doing well, whether by choice or by force. The school clinic staff would help them trim their nails and hair, but most of them had to rely on their families' efforts.
Given the inertia of Senhu City, her classmates didn't actively cause her much trouble, but they also didn't actively look for her, talk to her, or ask her what was wrong. Senhu No. 2 Middle School is a twelve-year system, and Qin Le's tenth year was her tenth and last year as a student, which was not very good.
When she started high school, she seemed to have improved. She smiled more, did her homework more carefully, and her school uniform smelled of soap and had stains on it. She explained that she had washed it herself but hadn't washed it properly.
That's when everyone realized the strange smell came from her clothes being impossible to wring out after washing, and no matter how long they hung there, they wouldn't dry. Then, inexplicably, they went from smelling slightly pleasant to smelling rather foul. Her family couldn't make a living; her family was occasionally incomplete.
Anyway, someone struck up a conversation with her. She said her father was coming back, but wouldn't say where he had been before, only that he came home during winter and summer vacations each year. Her mother went to work in a big city after she started elementary school, leaving her to be cared for by her grandparents who were suffering from dementia and whose condition was getting worse. She also had to take care of the two elderly people occasionally.
Qin Le lived cautiously and awkwardly until the day she thought she could finally start a new life, and then the spring outing came, but she didn't go home.
“We weren’t in the same class, but she told me a little about her dad that day. She was quite happy because she said it was her first time going to an amusement park.” Golson paused here, sighed slightly, and continued, “She said that her dad hadn’t been around since she could remember, but her mom said that her dad had gone to earn money and that when he came back, their family would live a very, very good life. He would buy a house in the big city where her mom lived, send her grandparents to a very good hospital, and take her to an amusement park.”
Cheng Xiangwu held her forehead; now everyone could tell that Qin Zixi was someone else taking the blame for someone else while being paid to do so.
Little Fu's lips are getting more and more upturned.
Gorson, sitting in the back seat, didn't notice this and continued, "Now that I think about it, Qin Le actually had a couple of strange behaviors before. For example, at parent-teacher conferences, she didn't ask her family for leave or explain to the teacher, and just insisted that her family would come but were just late. At the sports meet, she brought a lot of food, and she couldn't finish it all herself, so she didn't share it with her classmates. During the school physical examination, she insisted that her family had some kind of religious custom that prevented outsiders from seeing a dentist, and so on."
Her narration was filled with nostalgia and sighs, but she didn't deliberately talk about Qin Zixi, since she wasn't very familiar with this classmate and had never had the opportunity to communicate with his parents.
"You said you did some research, but did you talk to those two old people?" Cheng Xiangwu asked the smiling man on the left.
Golson also looked over with some curiosity.
"Oh, those two elderly people had been dead for almost a week before I went to petition. I even called the police using their home phone," Xiao Fu said casually, as if he had just remembered. "It was a three-bedroom apartment in a densely packed, high-rise residential area with lime-walled walls built at the end of the last century. The door wasn't locked. When I entered, I found a woman's body, about 70 years old, lying face down with her hands on her stomach and her head facing the entrance. She had probably fallen, and the body was visibly slightly decomposed. A man's body was lying supine on a bed piled high with fabric in what should have been the master bedroom, with food scraps spilled around his mouth. The windows were closed, and the room was hot and humid, swarming with mosquitoes. There was a lot of food on the dining table, varying in freshness, but all showed signs of decay when I checked. Some of it was near the man's mouth—"
"Ugh—" Golson's vomiting interrupted Little Frye's recitation-like announcement of the first body discovery. The driver glanced at her in the rearview mirror with disgust, but looked away after realizing she hadn't actually vomited anything.
"Well, Five Spices Killer?" Xiao Fu looked at Cheng Xiangwu, his face filled with expectation and sarcasm. "Are you going to give Qin Zixi, who just got out of prison and has nothing, a chance to turn over a new leaf?"
But Cheng Xiangwu really didn't care, so how was she supposed to answer?
"Hahaha—" Xiao Fu laughed so hard he could barely hold the steering wheel. "That's it, that's the acute fear of heights that comes from piling up all the chips only to find out the load-bearing layer is hollow. That's what I love about you, Wu Xiang!"
The man laughing, with restrained yet eager strokes as if about to topple a poker tower, patted the steering wheel; the man gagging, like a lamb being dragged to the slaughter, huddled in the back seat, gripping the tow rope; and the man speechless, like a blank billboard with no one calling, remained motionless by the window. With these elements filling the car, the black cab returned to downtown Mori Lake before rush hour.
In response to Cheng Xiangwu's statement, she did not intend to change her action plan, meaning she still planned to kill Qin Zixi herself tomorrow morning.
After filtering out the irrelevant information she had just gathered, she noticed that Qin Zixi, as a direct relative of one of the victims in the Senhu No. 2 Middle School case, might actively or passively contact the police. This was what she needed to be concerned about. Now that one of the victim's parents might not be in Senhu City, how could the other parent not be conspicuous?
However, similarly, if he were to die now, the target for shifting blame would be readily available, since Senhu City is a small city with only a handful of people capable of murder. Based on the previous information, perhaps she should consider cutting off that person's head.
"Hmph." Little Fu chuckled mysteriously.
After getting off the bus, Gorson remained silent and squatted to one side, whether due to motion sickness or the atmosphere inside the bus, it was unclear.
The sun is setting, it's time to leave work.
Gorson met her mother in a corner of the company's underground parking lot. Half a day after talking with her father, she still seemed breathless, just standing there blocking the way as if she had no energy. She opened her mouth several times but couldn't utter a single word, and didn't look up to see the expression on the other person's face.
Moriho City is a small place, and not many people drive to get off work, so the parking lots are mostly empty.
"What do you want to say to me?" The woman finally spoke first. She looked at Golson suspiciously for a few moments and then began to look around, trying to find a reason for a high school student to be standing there on a weekday afternoon.
To no avail. Heaven knows why she's still here, or what she's doing here.
"...Are you sure you don't remember me?" Golson asked, her head bowed. Her voice was soft, but there was no other noise in the parking lot.
“I don’t think I’ve met you before.” The woman nodded. “But my child looks a lot like you, and you’re much thinner than her.”
"Haha, the hospital only feeds me mixed grain rice, who wants to eat that stuff?" Gorson couldn't help but laugh.
"Doesn't it taste pretty good? Add sugar and it becomes the eight-treasure rice that you kids love to eat." The woman shrugged.
“That’s not the same at all!” Golson protested, but then fell silent. “When you looked at me, what did you feel? Did you have any impulses, felt dizzy, or reflexively wanted to deny something, or couldn’t remember me?”
"...Classmate, should I have that feeling?" the woman asked.
“…I don’t know,” Golson said.
"My child passed away a few days ago. Are you some kind of social media personality here to speak up for her? Because I haven't visited her for a month?" the woman asked.
"...Why don't you go see her?" Golson asked. "She's dead, why aren't you sad?"
"Should I have that feeling?" the woman asked.
“…Why do you always ask me about things like this?” Golson said.
“Because you seem to know the answer, you should think I should feel that way, but I don’t, and I think it’s okay that I don’t feel anything,” the woman said. “Some parents just don’t care much about their children’s life or death, but I never expected that the person in question would be the last to know the truth.”
Besides that, the woman said and explained a lot, using phrases like "realizing in hindsight," "now that things have come to this," "in the blink of an eye," and "back then," repeatedly going back and forth in time. It was unclear who she was explaining something to, or what it was for. But Golson hadn't been listening to a lot of it from the beginning, because whatever it was, it had nothing to do with her.
"Anyway, that's it." The woman finally shook her head. "I have to go. My husband is waiting for me to pick him up."
"...And what about me?" Golson suddenly looked up. She didn't know if the outcome was what the person listening in the corner wanted; she had never heard what she wanted. "What am I supposed to do?"
"Who are you?" the woman asked, her expression clearly showing utter confusion.
“I am—” Golson’s voice trailed off, “…Mom…”
“…What?” the woman asked, frowning.
"Could you please give me back my mother?" Galson asked. "Give me back my father and mother."
The woman couldn't do it. She looked around again, and finding no one in sight, she took a few steps back. Gorson didn't chase after her, and she quickly left. Some time later, the sound of tires screeching on concrete could be heard; she was really gone.
“I see.” Little Franz put away his notebook and said, “This is probably a more fundamental issue; mere stimulation won’t be effective.”
Hearing this, Gorson turned her head slightly, but didn't move her legs. The spaciousness of the parking lot and the cold white light gave her room to remain silent. As long as she didn't speak, no sound could echo in this silence.
“I can give you some time to express your thoughts and attitude,” Xiao Fu said, giving her time to comment as always.
“…Haha.” Golson snorted, still not turning around, and said, standing there, “You know perfectly well, so why did you make me say it?”
“Because I will give you the opportunity to organize your thoughts and explain yourself, Miss Galson,” said Little F. “and I will use the final version you give me to decide your—”
“…I’m sorry,” Golson said softly, “I want to walk alone.”
This conversation lasted much longer than the one at noon, and Golson left along the driveway exit of the parking garage, regardless of whether it was a pedestrian walkway.
“Let’s go, it’s time to show your worth,” Little Fran said, looking at the person in the shadows beside him.
"Do you think something bad will happen?" Cheng Xiang asked five times.
“I expect something bad to happen,” Little Franz corrected. “Only if something bad happens can my guess be confirmed, and only then will our efforts be meaningful.”
As always, she didn't intend to give away any spoilers. Cheng Xiangwu didn't say anything and got up to follow Gao Ersen.
“Remember, don’t let your eyes fall on that person,” Little Franz reminded him.
The high school student was clearly not someone who could detect eye contact, but Xiao Fu didn't explain. Cheng Xiangwu didn't rely on her unreliable eyes to chase people anyway. She nodded casually and left the garage through the driveway.
Xiao Fu turned and got into the elevator.
The city streets were stained crimson by the dying rays of the setting sun, a cacophony of people and vehicles. Some students from No. 1 Middle School would pass by here after school, in small groups, some accompanied by an adult. One would complain about having too much homework, another about how annoying the teacher was, and the group would say they would go out and play together next time.
They just drift along in the world's conventional wisdom as if dust had blinded them, temporarily absolving them of responsibility for their own path.
Advertisements, prioritizing eye-catching appeal over aesthetics, brazenly crowd the streets, proclaiming how worthwhile it is for non-Bai family members to spend money on the birthday of that elderly man surnamed Bai. Buses stop and start intermittently, their square fronts filling the gaps in the non-dedicated bus lanes. There are hardly any trees here, except for those haphazardly grown, patchy shrubs forcibly brought along the roadside and planted in the soil, their leaves yet to even begin to rust.
Even with greenery, Moriko City doesn't seem to look much better.
A legal consultation advertisement was posted on a utility pole. Half of the pole featured a portrait of some unknown magistrate attempting to demonstrate his power. Below that was a lost dog poster offering a reward of two thousand yuan for the owner. Further down, there seemed to be some other appeal for help, but it was obscured by the two thousand yuan offer and couldn't be seen.
As you walk along the path to the riverbank, the fishermen at this spot have all gone home with their buckets. A few stray cats are basking in the sun, not bothering to hide when people come by, but instead trying to scare them away with a meow.
There's nothing to explain to Golson, is there?
She stood by the riverbank, looking across at the opposite shore. She remembered taking a picture with the riverbank as a backdrop, with her camera in the background, also at a time when the world was still dark but the sky was still bright. It wasn't a special date, but she just didn't want to be separated from her camera during her after-dinner walks. The photographer was, oh, Mom, using her phone.
Hey, it's getting dark.
Now, Golson is all alone in the world she is in. She can't hear any human sounds, there are no human beings in her field of vision, she can't smell any human body odor, feel any human body temperature, taste any human flavor, or feel any proof that humans are alive.
The shot has been confirmed.
Suddenly, I could no longer bear the wind stirring up the stiff, immobile air on the still water. The extraterrestrial force pouring down from above was brought by a strange being draped in a long robe. The wind pressure made the grass and trees bow their heads, but they didn't break, because there was no definite weight pressing down on them. From shallow to deep, it cast a light and steady shadow on the already damp and soft grass beside the river, but it didn't touch the ground.
Perhaps it was the ripples on the water, but Golson smelled a damp, fishy odor.
The robe, long enough to block the double door frame, enveloped the newcomer's entire body. As the streetlights flashed, the robe shifted in the wind, changing colors with the angle of the light, its name impossible to pinpoint. The hood above, which should be the head, was also iridescent due to the fabric covering it. The face that was vaguely visible seemed to be unmasked, yet it was hidden in the shadows, its features not clearly visible to deceive the world.
A huge creature appeared out of nowhere and landed a meter in front of Golson. Judging from its lowered head, it was probably looking at her.
Golson raised his hand and slapped himself.
"Smack—"
Starting with that sound, the enormous body shrank, and the part beneath the robe expressed its movement through changes in volume. It twisted and struggled to shrink, finally stopping at the size of an adult male and no longer twitching. The robe also considerately changed size accordingly, and the color stopped at a slightly grayish white, and the soft fabric also felt comfortable.
The wind stopped, and he landed on the ground, trampling down a few blades of grass.
"You, you." Gorsen was momentarily speechless, having witnessed the whole thing, she didn't know what it meant either.
But the object of "your" response came. He raised his hand, and from the falling fabric emerged a hand with calloused knuckles, pulling down the part of the robe that covered his face, and removing the pale mask that had somehow appeared on it. It was a face that looked somewhat tired, thin, yet always remembered to wear a gentle smile; he wore glasses.
“Xiao Gao, it’s me,” he said.
With both voices and faces revealed, longtime viewers will naturally recognize familiar faces.
In an instant, Golson felt a chill run down his spine.
"Xiao Gao?" He asked, puzzled by the man's confusion. "What's wrong?"
"...Teacher Lu?" Gorson said in disbelief.
The owner of this face is Lu Que, the homeroom teacher of Class 1, Grade 1 at Senhu No. 2 Middle School.
"I thought you didn't recognize me." Lu Que frowned and breathed a sigh of relief. He was always humble and approachable, and his frown wasn't intimidating, but it did bring him some troubles from his students. He was quite competent as a homeroom teacher.
But it's not quite right for a deceased person.
“Teacher Lu, you, you’re not—” Gorson took a step back. This was probably the first time she had ever shown this teacher such an unpleasant expression. She asked incredulously, “What are you doing here?”
“Because you are here,” Lu Que said.
But Golson knew this perfectly well; what she really wanted to ask was—
"How are you still alive?" she asked.
“…Xiao Gao, it’s hard for me to explain this to you right now.” Lu Que frowned and said in a soothing tone, “We’ve all been through that incident, and I understand your fear, but you’re the only one still here who doesn’t understand the truth. We’ve actually been looking for you all along, but we’ve only just had a chance now.”
Lu Que's words were sincere; he was always very good at starting parent-teacher meetings.
Those involved in "that incident" certainly knew the hidden meaning in those words, but Gorson only felt her heart pounding so hard her chest ached with fear. The last time she saw this homeroom teacher was in a nightmare, and if she saw him again after this, it would probably be the same.
So she took another step back.
“This is indeed hard for you to accept.” Lu Que sighed, but then gave a reassuring smile. “But you should also realize that there is no longer any place for you in this world.”
“…I, I’m not…” Golson was stunned for a long time, and he had to speak to catch his breath.
“And so are we.” Lu Que lowered his voice slightly and said, “There’s nothing we can do about it, I’m sorry.”
Golson didn't say anything.
“So you should come here, at least to wake up from that dream with us.” Lu Que reached out his hand, smiling encouragingly. “Everyone is here waiting for you. Xiao Wang has been very worried about what you would do after that and has been wanting to talk to you. But I think you might trust me more, so after discussing it, we decided that I would come forward to persuade you.”
Xiao Wang, whose real name sounds like a historian, actually has a great hobby: crushing chalk, adding water to make dough, and then shaping it into little figures. This "Nuwa in preparation" is also Gao Ersen's best friend in class. On the day of the spring outing, she brought a lot of colorful gummy candies, each a meter long, saying she could eat them as she went. In the end, these colorful strips also served as props for photos.
That hand is still there, like a stable ladder. As long as you hold onto it, you can board a large ship full of memories. On the ship are many of her friends who will accept and embrace her, and will not ask her "How are you still alive?" or "Who are you?"
But honestly, this is highly suspicious.
"Teacher, what exactly happened?" Galson asked. "What happened that day, what happened to you all, what happened to Mom and Dad?"
It is only natural for teachers to answer students' questions.
“I’ll explain all of this later, but time is of the essence right now, and we’ve only just found this one opportunity.” Lu Que stretched his hand out further. “Come with me first, okay?”
If this had happened in a dream, Golson might have agreed, but in reality, one must be reasonable. Putting aside the possibility of being resurrected, she still remembered the enormous being that had just convulsed and twisted into its current form.
If the person in front of me is Lu Que, then who is he?
"Leave?" Golson couldn't help but take a step back. "Where are we going? Professor Lu, where were you all before?"
At this moment, she actually felt a little empathetic towards the sunglasses-wearing detective's paranoia. This damned logic of reality made it impossible for her to maintain her dual identity and be a good person to both sides.
Lu Que suddenly sighed, and Golson's sense of crisis was naturally sounding the alarm bells.
The grayish-white robe moved.
The sky was dark, and even the riverside streetlights, though lit, could barely illuminate the shadows hidden by the robes, not to mention the flickering, malfunctioning light that had been flickering ever since Lu Que appeared. A breeze occasionally swept through, carrying with it a black substance that resembled a shadow but was fundamentally the opposite; only now had it truly stepped forward to acknowledge its presence.
The shadows stretched and spread, starting from the hem of the white robe and, without warning, replacing the grass and covering the riverbank. The last rays of the setting sun, struggling with its last ounce of strength, vanished, and the vast sky was gradually pressed down by a low blue. In the distance, a few nameless shadows drifted past the windows of houses with lights shining through, echoing those beneath Gorson's feet.
“I will explain everything to you, Xiao Gao,” Lu Que said.
In an instant, all the strip-shaped black shadows on the ground rose into the sky, their ends forming the shape of hands. Gorsen recognized the entity that had brought her to this torture. All the hands reached into the air as if trying to grasp stars, then turned towards her three meters above the ground, the iron cage formed by its arms enveloping Gorsen and Lu Que. Compared to the former, who stood frozen in place, the latter remained calm, clearly not considering herself the prey.
At this moment, Gorson couldn't even utter a sound. Her vision darkened, and against the backdrop of prison fences, only her homeroom teacher was still smiling at her.
A silver streak flashed across the sky, piercing the prison through the dense thicket of shadows, and disappeared into Lu Que's face, embedding itself deeply in his forehead. The shadows paused, as if disturbed, their formation faltering, and the cage was suddenly attacked.
The blade still retained the immense force it had exerted when its owner threw it, almost as if it had pounded space itself. As the entire blade pierced through Lu Que's brain, the hilt carried his head backward, forcing his body, which was also being persecuted, to fly nearly three meters backward until his back met the dark shadows and then dragged on the ground until it stopped moving.
Perhaps because its owner was having a headache, the shadowy hands suddenly lost their order, flailing and waving haphazardly.
The resurrected corpse slid down on its back, but Golson looked at the knife handle. She had seen this kitchen knife lying carelessly on the counter when she was cleaning the house this morning. Not knowing where to put it, she wrapped it in a cloth and placed it next to the stove.
The dark figure silently fell into the encirclement. Cheng Xiangwu, holding another knife, walked towards Lu Que, bent down, and pulled out her knife from the neck of the corpse that had inexplicably begun to tremble.
The silver blade showed no blood. She paused, then flicked the blade and turned it around to grip it properly.
"Sister!" Gorsen's legs went weak. Just as he was about to express his gratitude and utmost loyalty, he saw Lu Que, who was lying dead on the ground, being grabbed by several black arms and lifted up. One hand pulled out a white mask from somewhere and put it on his face, which had a black gash, and then put on the hood.
After the procedure, which resembled covering a corpse with a white sheet, was completed, the chaotic shadowy hand gradually regained its regularity.
A robed figure, with arms outstretched like a cross, ascends into the air, supported by countless shadowy limbs. Against the backdrop of a dark river and illuminated by flickering streetlights, the gray-white color shifts abruptly, and the sense of volume becomes distorted and unrecognizable once more.
"Step back and go to a crowded place," Cheng Xiangwu said, frowning as she looked at the thing that had inexplicably flown up.
“…Okay!” Golson agreed and ran back the way he came.
Seeing his movements, the body that was constantly changing beneath his robes quickly made a decision, settling into the shape of a man much stronger than Lu Que. The fabric gradually changed color, settling on a dark green that looked dirty and old even in the dark, with a fleeting oily reflection under the streetlights.
Having changed his inner body, he brushed aside the shadowy figure beside him, landed directly, and the instant he bent over upon touching the ground, he sprang up and took off again, showing no signs of the effects of his previous head injury, and rushed toward Gorson's back.
Seeing that the blurry figure was getting close enough, Cheng Xiang bent down, spun around, and swept her body horizontally. The wet and slippery ground beneath her feet caused her to crawl into a sizable pit.
The sprinter, whose leg bone slammed into the iron bar and whose knee snapped, only then noticed that there was another person in the shadows. In the instant he fell to the ground, the shadowy hand reached out and helped straighten his twisted leg. With two snaps, he stood up, his pale mask meeting Cheng Xiangwu's gaze as he squatted on the ground. He paused.
Although she didn't know why this person wanted to look at her, Cheng Xiangwu didn't care. She raised her right hand, held the white blade horizontally in front of her face, and used her calf strength to throw herself at the other person's face.
The robed figure, seemingly out of sheer desperation, raised his left arm as if to block the white light. The blade sliced through the flesh without drawing blood, but it also struck the bone. The person showed no signs of pain. In the instant that Cheng Xiangwu paused due to the blade getting stuck, the enemy's right arm charged up and slammed into her temple.
Cheng Xiangwu didn't look, but instead used his left arm to block. His right fist, carrying wind pressure, hit the blade, and a cracking sound came from his knuckles as he pressed down.
As she got closer, she smelled a fishy odor.
With a crunch and a powerful kick, Cheng Xiangwu spun in mid-air and simultaneously hooked her right hand back with added force. As she landed, the robed man's left hand also rolled twice on the ground, showing no signs of serious injury. The robed man she had kicked away was indeed being supported by the shadowy hand and regained his balance when she looked over. He seemed impatient and swung away those hands again, but because he had lost his left hand, he lost his balance and swayed a few times.
"This is a man with great strength and physique but no fighting experience, similar to the Butcher," Cheng Xiangwu judged.
The shadowy hand picked up the left arm from the ground and reached towards the robed man. Cheng Xiangwu had no intention of giving him a chance with all four limbs intact. She quickly moved forward, closing in on the robed man's face even faster than the shadowy hand, her right arm holding the knife in a reverse grip and drawing a large circle behind her. A flash of white light passed by, and the shoulder joint snapped. The next instant, the right arm, along with some fabric, was severed cleanly at the root. There was no blood, but the fabric seemed to have melted, and something sticky dripped down from the cut surface.
He stepped back, stood still, and with his left hand, he sheathed his knife behind his back and thrust it into the other man's hood with his bare hand. His five fingers reached for the head hidden underneath, slipped into the man's tied-up hair, and pinched his scalp. With his right hand, he raised the knife and thrust it down towards the man's face. Once again, only the hilt remained. The tip of the knife disappeared into the mask and then emerged from behind, pulling off the man's hood. The man had a braid tied at the back of his head.
After a pause, Cheng Xiangwu continued to pinch his scalp and pull out the knife. The shattered mask was pulled off his face along with it, revealing the man's face, which was about to split open from the top.
The knife scar had long eyebrows and eyes on either side, a mole on the bridge of the nose, and a scar on the corner of the mouth. Cheng Xiangwu was stunned again. After a long while, she drew a circle with her right knife to swat away the swarming black shadows, put it behind her back, and used both hands to close the crack in the middle of the face.
It's this face that never gives her a good look, the apron she wears when killing fish, chickens, ducks, or geese, her swaying braids, her poor eyesight, the ability to carry four buckets of water at once, and her ears—yes, she has earrings on both earlobes.
Cheng Xiangwu loosened her grip, and the corpse fell to the ground. The dark shadow swallowed it up, and even though her calves were submerged, she didn't move.
Oh no, this person is her father.
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