Chapter XLIX: Dark eyes

The burly man was nervously thinking. What the hell is this? His breath came in shallow bursts, his chest tightening under the invisible weight pressing down on him. His instincts screamed at him to act—to fight, to run, to do something—but his body refused to listen. His fists curled at his sides, a pathetic attempt at regaining control, but it was useless. He had fought stronger men, faced near-death more times than he could count. This was different.

The woman kept shifting her gaze, scanning the darkness. Think. Stay calm. Find the source. But there was nothing to find. No figure, no presence—just that voice, heavy and absolute. Her fingers twitched at her side. The silence that followed wasn't just empty—it was waiting. Watching.

The skinny man's throat was dry. Why can't I move? His mind, usually sharp and calculating, was blank. His breath felt stolen, his hands trembling against his will. He wanted to analyze, to make sense of this—but how do you process something that shouldn't exist?

Zhang's fingers twitched slightly. The weight pressing on him was undeniable, but what unsettled him most was the uncertainty. Who? Why? How? His mind ran through every possibility, searching for logic, for a pattern, but all he found were unknowns. His chest rose slowly, controlled. His face remained calm. But inside, his mind was moving faster than ever.

Yun's heart pounded. She knew pressure, had endured threats, had survived death. But this… this wasn't like before. This was inevitable. Her eyes flickered to Zhang. He was still, unreadable, but… was that tension in his stance? A sharp inhale. Her stomach twisted. Even Zhang doesn't know what this is.

Then a shouting voice suddenly starled everyone.

"WHO'S THERE?!" The burly man's roar cut through the air, raw and demanding.

"W-We're not afraid!" The skinny man's words came out shaky, betraying the exact opposite.

A cannon fodder choked on his breath. "I… I don't want to die!" His voice cracked, desperation leaking through.

Another stumbled forward, his legs barely holding him up. "Please—I've had enough! Just let me go!"

"WHO ARE YOU?!" A different one shouted, his voice tinged with hysteria. "WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?!"

Some screamed. Some begged. Some just stood there, trembling, too scared to even breathe. The air was thick with panic, suffocating, consuming.

…

The laughter still echoed in the air, a chilling backdrop to their panic. The woman gritted her teeth, her fists clenched so tightly her nails dug into her palms. Her eyes snapped toward Zhang, filled with suspicion and barely concealed frustration.

"This… is this your plan?" Her voice was sharp, accusatory, like she needed someone to blame—to fight—to make sense of this madness.

Zhang met her gaze with his usual unreadable calm. He let the words hang in the air, as if weighing them, before answering with quiet finality.

"If it were mine, I would've killed all of you."

Her expression twisted, anger flaring. "Then what the hell is this?! Don't tell me you're as clueless as the rest of us!"

Zhang exhaled slowly, his posture relaxed—too relaxed for someone trapped in this situation. "Think. If I had this kind of power, would I still be negotiating with you?"

She opened her mouth, but no words came. Damn it. He was right. This wasn't his doing. If Zhang had control over whatever force this was, he wouldn't have wasted time with talking.

Still, her frustration didn't ease. She jabbed a finger toward him. "Then why the hell does it feel like you expected this? You're too calm—too… composed."

Zhang tilted his head slightly. "And panicking would help?"

Her breath hitched. It was infuriating. No. Panicking wouldn't help. But—

Before she could find another argument, the laughter stopped.

And the silence that followed was worse.

The silence was suffocating. The air felt heavy, thick with the stench of blood. Bodies lay scattered, twisted into grotesque shapes, their eyes glassy, mouths frozen in screams that would never be heard again. Some were still warm, their blood soaking into the dirt, while others had already turned cold, lifeless.

The weight of death pressed down on everything. Even the wind dared not whisper through this place.

And then—

Clap.

A slow, deliberate sound, echoing through the stillness.

Clap.

Footsteps followed, unhurried, confident—walking through the carnage like it was nothing more than a path paved for his arrival.

Clap.

The sound rang sharper now, cutting through the silence like a blade.

A shadow stretched across the bloodstained ground. The figure walked forward, his presence alone crushing—as if reality itself bent to make way for him.

The moment he stepped forward, the world tilted.

The cannon fodders, ignorant of who he was, could only stare. Their breath caught, their eyes wide—not in terror, but in something far more foolish.

"Beautiful…" one of them whispered, their voice trembling.

"How can someone like that exist?" another murmured, their body frozen—not in fear, but awe.

His beauty was almost unreal. The way his abyss-like black eyes swallowed the light around them, the way his smile seemed to hold an entire world within it—it was inhuman. And yet, to those who lacked understanding, it was divine.

Their minds struggled to process it.

The burly man, the woman, the skinny man—they could only stare. There was no fear, no resistance, only the silent, overwhelming awe that gripped them like an unseen force. Their minds told them they should kneel. Should bow. Should praise. Yet their bodies refused to move, as if carved from stone, trapped in the presence of something beyond them.

And then, there was Zhang. There was Linglong.

To them, it was neither awe nor admiration.

It was horror.

Zhang's breathing turned shallow. Even without moving, his body screamed—his veins burned with the primal instinct to run, to fight, to do something. But there was nothing. Just the abyss before him, staring back with a smile.

Linglong, half-conscious, felt it too. Even in the haze of agony, knowledge pressed down on her like a weight too heavy to bear. She understood something the others did not. And it was killing her faster than the wounds ever could.

The young man smiled, that same unreadable, haunting smile.

He took a step forward and asked everyone "Did all of you enjoy the game?"