Chapter Forty-Two: Devouring
The blood oath has been sworn, and the crows cry mournfully. The heavy doors of the Xuyue Organization headquarters are once again tightly shut, keeping out the storms and prying eyes of the outside world.
But what surged within was no longer the order and hidden warmth of the past, but a grief and murderous intent as hot, viscous, and ready to erupt at any moment, like underground magma.
Xu Yue's oath, which resembled a pre-battle flag-raising ceremony, acted like a powerful medicine, forcibly reuniting the organization that was on the verge of falling apart. However, what united them was no longer the warmth of "family," but the poisoned thorn of "revenge."
In this oppressive atmosphere fueled by a burning desire for revenge, Xiya's presence was like a volcano in motion. He no longer locked himself in his solitary confinement room; instead, he stepped out.
He changed into a pure black combat uniform without any other colors, which made his fiery red hair look like embers burning in the darkness, exceptionally dazzling.
All the despair, pain, and self-blame on his face seemed to have been drained away overnight, leaving only a blank, plaster-masked face. But those red eyes—which had once burned with defiant flames or were filled with dependence on Xu Yue—had now become two bottomless pools of icy depths, churning with dark, blood-red currents.
Anyone who makes eye contact with it will feel a chill run down their spine—a pure, undisguised, deathly stillness that yearns to destroy everything.
He became taciturn and almost never spoke again.
His movements were swifter and more precise than before, with a mechanical, chilling efficiency. He threw himself into training relentlessly—hand-to-hand combat, firearms, stealth…
Every move he made was ruthless to the extreme, as if he were facing not training equipment, but an irreconcilable enemy.
He ate very little and slept almost nothing, as if the physical exertion of his mortal body had become a burden to him, and only the instinct to kill still drove this body.
He blamed himself completely and without reservation for Zhong Si's death. Every detail played repeatedly in his mind, magnified, and distorted: he blamed himself for not seeing through Qian Xu Wu Yun's disguise from the beginning; he hated his suffocating protectiveness, believing that it was this excessive tension that made Zhong Si crave the "normality" of the outside world, thus giving the enemy an opportunity.
He couldn't forgive himself for his harsh questioning during that conflict, believing that it was his distrust that pushed Zhong Si into deeper isolation and helplessness, ultimately leading to the tragedy. He even obsessively believed that if it weren't for protecting his "weakness" in Xiya, Zhong Si might not have died, or at least his death would have been more meaningful.
This extreme self-blame did not make him depressed; instead, it ignited the darkest fuel in the depths of his soul in a distorted way.
That deep, almost fatherly, protective instinct towards Zhong Si underwent a terrible distortion after the object of his protection was lost.
It was no longer a protective shield, but had transformed into a pure, outward-directed destructive force. Unable to protect those he wanted to protect, he would kill everyone who posed a threat—this simple yet cruel logic became the only belief that sustained his survival.
He was no longer fighting for the organization or for Xuyue; he was fighting solely for "atonement," and the way to atone was to offer a sea of enemy blood as a sacrifice.
He became a demonic blade in Xu Yue's hand, sharp enough to draw blood as soon as it was drawn, yet extremely easy to break.
Gongyang and Mu were also worried about his condition.
They could see the boiling destructive desire beneath that calm surface, and they feared that he would rush towards the enemy recklessly, even at the cost of mutual destruction, ultimately burning himself as well.
But Xu Yue remained calm and observed all of this.
She was not completely swept up by the rising tide of revenge within the organization.
She felt sorry for Xiya, more than anyone else.
She watched as she pulled him up from the muddy streets, as he gradually built up his trust in people, as he clumsily learned to protect Zhong Si, and as he was torn apart into his current state by a series of blows.
She knew better than anyone how desolate and painful Xiya's heart was at this moment. Beneath that seemingly hard and cold exterior was a soul she knew well, a soul that would feel heart-wrenching pain at loss.
She would never let him truly become a mindless, bloodthirsty madman, a path of no return leading to self-destruction. That kind of "whale shark" was merely a disposable commodity, not the right-hand man she needed, much less the ending she desired.
After Xi Ya once again shattered the moving target on the training field and exuded a violent aura that kept strangers at bay, Xu Yue dismissed those around her and walked over alone.
The training ground was filled with the smell of gunpowder and sweat. Xiya, with his back to her, was changing an empty magazine; his fingers moved so fast they almost blurred, his movements mechanical and precise. Hearing footsteps, he didn't turn around, but the muscles in his entire back tensed instantly, like a beast sensing danger.
“Enough, Xiya.” Xu Yue’s voice rang out in the empty training ground, calm and undisturbed, yet carrying an undeniable power.
West Asia paused for a moment, just a moment, and then continued as if she hadn't heard.
Xu Yue neither rebuked him nor approached him. She simply stood a few steps behind him, quietly watching his tense back, and slowly spoke. Her voice was not loud, but each word was clear, striking at his closed-off heart:
"I rescued your life from a garbage dump. I've poured countless efforts into it, not for you to squander like this."
Xiya's fingers tightened suddenly as he changed the magazine, his knuckles turning white.
"Zhong Si's death was a conspiracy by BXX and Meng She. You and I both know who the real culprit is. By turning the knife on yourself, whose help are you helping?"
Her tone remained calm, yet it dissected the crux of his self-punishment with surgical precision: "Do you think that torturing yourself like this will put Zhong Si at ease? In the last time he looked at you, did he hope you would become a killing machine, or did he hope you would live, along with his share?"
Sia's body trembled almost imperceptibly; though extremely slight, it did not escape Xu Yue's notice. He still did not turn around, but the action of changing the magazine slowed down.
Xu Yue took a step forward, closing the distance and becoming more aware of the chilling aura emanating from him—a mixture of sweat, gunpowder, and an almost desperate feeling.
“Look at me, Sia.” Her voice lowered, carrying a barely perceptible, almost sighing softness. “I know how much pain you’re in. I’ve tasted the bitterness of losing someone important to me long before you have.”
These words were like a key, gently touching the deepest, unhealed scar in his heart.
He thought of Xu Yue's past, of how she, too, was abandoned and struggled to survive in despair. They were the same kind of people. They had both lost everything, then built a place for themselves, only to face loss once more.
He finally turned around slowly. His blood-red eyes met her gray eyes. In the depths of that deathly crimson, Xu Yue caught a fleeting glimpse of intense pain and... a faint trace of bewilderment, like that of a drowning person.
“But, Xiya,” Xu Yue met his gaze without flinching, her grey eyes like the sky before a blizzard, calm yet containing immense power, “Pain and anger can be fuel, but not reins. Being completely consumed by hatred and losing your mind will only lead you to repeat the same mistakes and fall into the enemy’s next trap. That would be the greatest betrayal of Zhong Si, of Yanni, and of all the deceased.”
She raised her hand, not touching him, but merely pointing to his chest: "Your life, your anger, your power, from this moment on, no longer belong to you alone. They belong to the entire organization, to our shared revenge. I don't need a madman who only wants to die; I need 'Whale Shark'—the 'Whale Shark' who can smell blood and calmly tear apart an enemy's throat. Understand?"
Her voice possessed a strange penetrating power, acknowledging his pain while simultaneously severing his tendency to wallow in self-destruction, and bestowing upon him a new and heavier responsibility. This was not comfort, but a command, an expectation, and a deeper form of bondage.
Xiya stared intently at her, his chest heaving violently, as if he were fighting against the roaring beast within him.
After a long time, so long that the air almost froze, the frenzied bloodlust in his eyes faded slightly. Although still cold, at least a trace of human clarity returned. He nodded very slowly, almost imperceptibly.
“...Understood.” A hoarse voice squeezed out from his throat, dry as sandpaper.
Xu Yue knew that he had taken her words to heart.
The damage to his heart didn't happen overnight; the wounds and distortions in his heart couldn't heal instantly. But at least, she pulled him back from the brink of utter madness. She planted an anchor in his heart called "responsibility" and "reason."
“Go back and rest,” Xu Yue commanded, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Starting tomorrow, you and Mu Ye will work together. I want you to use this,” she pointed to her temple, “and not just this,” she then lightly tapped his clenched fist, “to analyze all the intelligence about Meng She and BXX. Revenge requires strength, but even more so, it requires intellect.”
Xiya looked at her silently for a moment, then nodded again, turned around, and left the training ground with heavy but no longer stiff steps.
Xu Yue stood alone, watching his departing figure. A complex and indescribable emotion flashed in her gray eyes—concern, heartache, but mostly a cold and resolute determination.
She wouldn't let Sia lose his mind, because she needed him alive, needed him as a controllable, deadly weapon. But at the same time, she also had to use his guided, extreme destructive urges to tear through BXX's defenses.
Soothing and exploitation, protection and manipulation, intertwined in her hands to form a strong shackle, both binding the "whale shark" on the verge of madness and pointing it toward a bloody path of revenge. This heavy bond is the reins that allow Xu Yue to control the overall situation, and also the only piece of driftwood that Xi Ya can grasp in this dark and bitter sea, preventing her from sinking completely.
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