Chapter 20 The taste of vengeance spare?

As the crowd gazed upon Fang Xiu's tranquil expression, their hearts surged with tempestuous waves of shock. His actions were too brazen, too ruthless, and utterly beyond expectation—leaving them reeling in astonishment.

Indeed, no one wishes for their own demise, and when the moment of decision arrives, choices must be made.

Yet Fang Xiu allowed no room for negotiation, no opportunity for deliberation—he simply struck without hesitation.

Wounding one person was already alarming enough, but to leave another as a mere "spare"—such an inhuman, calculating approach shattered their very perception of reality.

So much so that now, every single one of them watched Fang Xiu with unguarded wariness, dreading the possibility that he might decide to take another "spare."

However, Fang Xiu did not strike again.

"The right path leads to death. If you wish to live, take the left."

They cast him suspicious glances, distrust evident in their eyes.

One of them hesitated before asking, "If the left path leads to survival, why aren't you taking it?"

"I'm waiting to grab a thigh."

Grab… a thigh?

Everyone present—except Zhao Hao—thought they had misheard.

Where in this eerie domain could one possibly find a thigh to grasp? A ghost's thigh?

Just then, the sound of creaking joints echoed through the air. From the ceiling descended the female doctor, her limbs crawling in an unnatural, bone-snapping motion.

Her pallid lips were still smeared with fresh, crimson blood, droplets falling rhythmically to the floor.

"Ah!"

The two remaining men screamed in terror, instinctively turning to flee, but hesitation rooted them in place. What if Fang Xiu was deceiving them? Fear and doubt shackled their movements—they inched into the left corridor but dared not venture too deep.

Fang Xiu, in stark contrast, did not flee. Instead, he strode toward the approaching doctor.

Of course, he stopped just short—standing close to Wang Zitong.

Wang Zitong's eyes burned with hatred and fury as he reached out with a trembling hand, determined to seize Fang Xiu's leg, to drag him into the abyss alongside him.

Bang!

Fang Xiu's foot came down mercilessly, pinning Wang Zitong's hand beneath it.

"Ahhh! You! You—!"

Agonizing pain wrenched an unhinged scream from Wang Zitong's throat. Rage and madness consumed him, obliterating the last vestiges of reason.

Fang Xiu slowly inclined his head, his shadow obscuring his features.

And then his expression changed.

A twisted grimace contorted his face—madness, frenzy, and even a hint of intoxicated delight gleamed in his eyes.

A manic grin split his lips, revealing gleaming, bone-white teeth. "Do you like my gift?"

"No! No—!!"

With Wang Zitong's final, desperate cry, Fang Xiu's ecstasy reached its crescendo.

Shing!

A silver arc flashed through the air—Wang Zitong's head parted from his body, rolling to the ground. His lifeless eyes were wide with unyielding terror and a hatred so deep it seemed to reach beyond death itself.

Unconsoled, unavenged.

"So this… is the taste of vengeance?"

A shudder ran through Fang Xiu's body.

It was his first time savoring the fruits of retribution—an exhilaration that sent his pulse racing.

Wang Zitong's blood spattered across his face, its warmth seeping into his skin. Only then did Fang Xiu truly sense the thrum of his own heartbeat.

He found himself imagining—if one day, his wife were to perish by his hands… what a beautiful sight that would be.

Yet soon, his expression smoothed back into eerie tranquility, as if nothing had transpired at all.

Then, he walked to the female doctor's side and reached out—to grab a thigh.

The few remaining onlookers were utterly petrified. Even having witnessed it with their own eyes, they still struggled to believe—when Fang Xiu said he was going to grab a thigh, he had meant it literally.

At that moment, Fang Xiu turned to Zhao Hao. "You coming?"

Fang Xiu had not forgotten what Zhao Hao had done for him back in the storage room. Though he lacked the capacity for sentimentality, he still wished to offer Zhao Hao some aid.

Because he could feel it—his emotions were slipping away.

Or perhaps, it was his very humanity that was eroding.

Hatred and madness surged within him, overwhelming all else. He did not reject this transformation, but neither did he wish to lose every last thread of what made him human.

Zhao Hao hesitated at the invitation.

For in that moment, Fang Xiu looked utterly monstrous.

His expression remained eerily placid, yet blood painted his face in a grotesque contrast—pale skin against crimson splatters. It lent him an uncanny beauty, a sinister elegance.

And beneath him, Wang Zitong's mangled remains lay in ruin.

Standing side by side with the entity that lurked in the shadows, Fang Xiu was no different from the horrors they fled.

For a long moment, Zhao Hao wavered.

But in the end, he chose to believe in Fang Xiu.

He had few friends. Perhaps, in truth, Fang Xiu was the only one.

Born into an unremarkable family, plain and unassuming, Zhao Hao had always been an outlier among his peers at the sales office.

Only Fang Xiu, an orphan like himself, had ever truly acknowledged him. Over time, their bond had formed.

And so, he stepped forward, joining Fang Xiu in grabbing a thigh.

As for the remaining two men—they had long since fled.

Not because of the ghost.

But because of Fang Xiu.

"…Xiu-ge," Zhao Hao hesitated before finally voicing his doubts, "why did you suddenly attack Wang Zitong and Wu Dahai?"

"This entity moves at a speed no human can match. The only way to buy time… is with lives." Fang Xiu's voice was indifferent. "When a sacrifice was inevitable, tell me—who do you think would have been chosen? Me, who had a grudge against them? You, who was always ignored? Or them, who held the most power here?"

Zhao Hao paled slightly, his lips parting as if to argue—but Fang Xiu spoke first.

"Do you feel a strange chill seeping into your body?"

Zhao Hao blinked in confusion before shaking his head.

Fang Xiu's eyes darkened.

It wasn't an illusion.

A faint, eerie chill was creeping into his palm, coursing through his veins, spreading through his entire being.

Was this… the contamination of the supernatural?

Why hadn't he felt it before?

No—perhaps he had, but it had been too faint to notice.

Now, however, it was reaching a critical threshold.

If his guess was correct…

He was about to awaken.

Zhao Hao couldn't sense it—because he had yet to experience true life-or-death despair.

The two of them continued for a while longer.

Eventually, Zhao Hao suggested, "Xiu-ge, it's time. Let's go."

"No rush." Fang Xiu's eyes gleamed. "Wu Dahai is still there. I think… I'm on the verge of awakening."

Zhao Hao's face lit up. "Really?! That means we're saved! What does it feel like to awaken? Why can't I sense anything?"

"You haven't experienced true life-or-death terror yet."

Zhao Hao hesitated, wanting to ask—when had Fang Xiu gone through such an ordeal?

But before he could, Fang Xiu grabbed his arm and stepped back.

Only when the female doctor had torn Wu Dahai apart did he move forward once more—reaching out once again.

Wu Dahai was large. His flesh could buy at least five minutes.

Fang Xiu decided—two more minutes.

If he had yet to awaken by then, he would leave.

Closing his eyes, he let his palm wander, feeling, sensing, waiting.