Chapter 79: The Devil’s Temptation

Shao Yun swallowed nervously, feeling his heart pounding wildly, as though it were about to leap from his chest.

He fixed his gaze on the man in the top hat, hands clutching his revolver tightly, sweat trickling down his forehead.

"He's dying already. I don't need to kill a dead man."

Shao Yun's voice trembled slightly, but his tone was resolute.

The man in the top hat clasped his hands behind his back, his expression unreadable, like a statue carved from indifference.

"What should I call you now? Arthur? John? Or Jack?"

Shao Yun pressed his lips together, forcing himself to sound more composed.

"Names are just labels. I could invent thousands if I wanted to."

The top-hatted man remained unfazed by Shao Yun's reply, taking slow, deliberate steps toward him.

"You needn't be nervous. I mean no harm."

His voice was calm, deep—like an old friend returning from the shadows of time.

Shao Yun tried to steady himself, but his gun-hand quivered on its own. He drew a deep breath and replied more firmly.

"You're a devil—not here to wish me happy New Year, I'm guessing."

The man stopped a meter away, smiling gently. "Then I'll call you what you are now. Good evening, Mr. Shao Yun."

Shao Yun's eyes narrowed, filled with caution and confusion, as he scrutinized every flicker of expression on the man's face.

And then he saw it—his eyes never blinked in unison. Always the right, then the left. The delay was subtle, but Shao Yun noticed.

"Devil! What do you want?"

His voice was low and strong, trying to command presence against the unknown.

The man seemed amused. He glanced around leisurely, as if genuinely admiring the scenery.

"Just passing through, admiring the view," he said smoothly.

But Shao Yun wasn't fooled. He narrowed his eyes, glaring like he could bore through the man's soul.

"We both know what this is. Drop the act."

His voice rang with conviction, but a devil's best weapon is deception. Shao Yun was still too green.

The man chuckled softly, his tone a taunt.

"Then tell me, what's my name?"

Caught off guard, Shao Yun hesitated. A flash of uncertainty crossed his eyes. He guessed:

"Satan? Dumah? Azazel? Baphomet..."

The names spilled out in a shaky voice—his resolve slipping.

"No need to fret," the man said gently. "Like you said, names are only symbols. Don't dwell on them."

He glanced down at Shao Yun's revolver. "Your gun is dirty."

The remark came with faint mockery, as if Shao Yun couldn't even care for his tools.

Shao Yun glanced down—the revolver gleamed gold in the moonlight, pristine. He glared at the man.

"Keep your hands off my stuff."

The man smiled faintly, reached out with a composed grace, and plucked the revolver from Shao Yun's grip as if taking a pen from a desk.

Then, from his coat, he drew a spotless white wool cloth and began carefully polishing it—like an artisan tending to a sacred relic.

"To swear by a weapon, yet neglect its care—is that not to break your oath?"

Each word was soft, magnetic, laced with layered meaning.

Shao Yun shivered. There was truth buried in the calm.

He snapped back to reality, yanking out a second revolver and leveling it at the man.

"Give it back."

Unbothered, the man glanced at him, then casually took the second gun as well.

"I'll polish this one too," he offered nonchalantly.

And he did, wiping it with the same meticulous care before handing both back, smiling pleasantly.

"No harm intended. Just enjoying the scenery."

His smile held something else—subtle, unreadable.

Shao Yun stared at the polished guns in his hands, seething. He remembered John's mistake—how firing had only led to self-destruction.

Resistance was pointless. He holstered his weapons, took a steadying breath, and asked evenly:

"What do you want?"

The man circled him slowly, sharp eyes scanning like X-rays. After a full circle, he stopped and looked Shao Yun in the eye.

"I'm just curious—what made you start killing again?"

Shao Yun's brows furrowed. "I don't understand what you mean."

The man sighed. "No matter your past, arriving in this world should have been a rebirth. Like a child. Clean. So why spill blood again?"

Shao Yun flinched inwardly. He gritted his teeth.

"Because if I don't kill, they'll kill me."

The man nodded, approving. "Fair. Death finds everyone. It's only a matter of when."

A cold wind blew. Shao Yun shivered.

The man's hand drifted toward the red, skull-styled Vision on Shao Yun's belt.

Shao Yun backed off, warning, "Don't touch my things again."

The man withdrew, unfazed.

"You met a girl. Came to a land you dreamed of. Why not use your gold to buy peace?"

Shao Yun scoffed. "She's looking for her kin. I have no one. What's wrong with traveling together?"

The man nodded, then pressed deeper.

"Strange, though. You'd risk your life for her. Why not lie? Convince her to give up, and settle down? Start a ranch?"

Shao Yun hesitated, lowered his gaze.

"Don't tempt me. You have no right to judge me."

The man reached out, adjusted Shao Yun's hat, brushed dust from his shoulder.

"You're not that kind of man. Loyalty is your salvation—and your curse."

He leaned in, whispered:

"You've shifted your loyalty—from one soul to that girl. Because lost lambs need shepherds."

Shao Yun pushed him away. "You're wrong! I'm not one of those three gunslingers. I'm Shao Yun, from…"

He stopped. His mind blanked—he couldn't remember.

The man touched his chest. "You remember your name. Do you remember who you were?"

Shao Yun clutched his head. "I..."

"You remember her future. You remember the three gunmen's pasts. But why is there no memory of your own?" the man asked.

Again, he reached for the Vision.

"If you are truly yourself, why believe 'someone else's' script? Do you really think you're just playing a role?"

Shao Yun recoiled, horrified. "You devil! You're twisting my mind—shut up!"

The man closed in, voice dripping with certainty.

"Admit it. You are the sinner, the betrayed, and the innocent—all in one."

Fury erupted inside Shao Yun. He drew his revolver, aimed with deadly intent.

"DIE!"

The man didn't flinch. He turned his back, voice full of weary sorrow.

"Yes. We all die."

The words stabbed deeper than any blade. Shao Yun's finger trembled on the trigger—he remembered John's fate. The three bullets. The blood.

He pulled back, trembling. "I get it. You want me to pull the trigger—so I kill myself. Not happening."

His tone was firm, resolute.

The man didn't turn. "You're getting smarter."

Only a few words—but they rang with rare approval.

Shao Yun turned, walked to his horse. Can't keep talking. Even the heavens can't save me if I stay.

"I'm done listening. I'm leaving."

Just as he prepared to mount, the cold voice returned.

"That girl's name is Lumine, isn't it?"

Shao Yun whirled, eyes wide with dread.

"What… what do you mean?"

The man remained still. "I also know a couple. Godwin and Glory. You and Lumine… remind me of them."

Shao Yun's heart skipped. He growled, "If you want to kill them—fine. Just leave Lumine out of it. Take anyone else."

The man smiled faintly. "Let's play a game."

Shao Yun frowned. "I'm not in the mood."

But the man pulled out a deck of cards. (Texas Hold'em, no jokers.)

He walked up slowly, a sly smile on his lips.

"Just draw one. High card wins."

Shao Yun tensed. "I don't play games with devils."

The man chuckled. "Godwin will die. Brutally."

Shao Yun's breath caught. "So what? Doesn't matter to me."

The man shook his head, disappointed. He lifted the cards. "You and Lumine are like Godwin and Glory. Their fate was sealed by cards. Yours will be, too."

Shao Yun narrowed his eyes. "Is that a threat?"

The man said nothing. Just nodded. "Draw one."

Shao Yun hesitated… then reached out, drew a card.

He flipped it—laughed lightly. "King of Diamonds."

The man nodded. "You may go."

Shao Yun blinked. "What? You haven't drawn."

The man turned away. "You win. Godwin will be fine."

Shao Yun mounted quickly. "You devil!"

The man waved without turning. "Just admiring the scenery. Safe travels."

Shao Yun spurred his horse, fleeing the cursed place.

The man remained still, gazing at the stars, wind tugging his coat and hat.

Like a lone statue under the heavens, watching a play only he understood.

A blue-tinged wind swept in, breaking the stillness.

It carried a chill—and something more. Something… otherworldly.

The man narrowed his eyes.

"Seems I'll be making a new friend tonight."