It was that d**khead from last night—the one who tried to take advantage of Top when he was drunk. I was outside when I suddenly heard gunshots. People came rushing out of the club, screaming.
When I got there, my heart stopped.
Zhi Zhi was holding Wen Zhin in his arms, crying—because he was shot.
That son of a b**ch shot him… because he thought it was me.
I looked around in shock, scanning the chaos—and then I saw Khai holding that guy down on the ground, with the gun lying just beside him, while Top was frantically calling for an ambulance.
I ran to Wen Zhin and carried him into the car, my arms trembling and covered in his blood. We rushed to the hospital.
When we arrived, I screamed for help, holding Wen Zhin tight against me as blood soaked through my shirt and dripped onto the floor. He was immediately taken to the OR for emergency surgery.
Everything around me became a blur.
Nurses were rushing in and out. People were crying. Top was shouting. The fluorescent lights above flickered like they were mocking me. I felt my knees go weak.
I closed my eyes for a moment.
And when I opened them again—I felt nothing.
No fear. No sadness. No mercy.
I stood up slowly, clenched my jaw, and took out my phone."Can," I said, my voice cold and dead. "Where are you keeping the guy who shot Wen Zhin?"
"We're holding him in the warehouse near the storage factory," he replied carefully, waiting for my orders.
"Good. Make sure the bǐ shǒu men are ready. It's been a while since they peeled off human flesh."
I walked toward the hospital exit, blood still drying on my sleeves. Just as I reached the door, Xiao Zhi grabbed my hand.
His eyes were glassy with tears. "Where are you going?" he asked softly.
But I wasn't in control anymore. I was driven by bloodlust. My soul had been devoured by hatred—and anyone who caused that hatred… would die by my hands.
"He wanted a reason to die? Then I'll give him one."
I walked past him, got into the car, and sped off to the warehouse. It was only a few minutes away, but my rage made every second feel like eternity.
When I walked in, our eyes locked.
And he was laughing.
"Oh my! Did I really take out your weakness?" he sneered. "How is it now, b**ch? You should've—AARGH!!!"
I didn't let him finish.I drove a dagger into his hand—the blade slicing through bone. A gut-wrenching scream tore out of his throat as his whole body spasmed from the shock.
Without hesitation, I yanked the blade free.(Schlllk!) The sound was wet, horrible, beautiful.
Then I drove two more daggers into his thighs, forcing another shriek out of him, more animal than human.I pulled them out just as fast. Blood spilled down in rivers, pooling on the concrete floor beneath his trembling legs.
"You were saying?" I asked calmly, wiping the daggers on his own shirt.
He couldn't answer. He was in too much pain to even cry.
I grabbed his jaw and tilted his head up so he could look into my eyes—as I began to peel his skin off.
I started at the point where his hand met his upper arm. The skin came away slowly, deliberately, with a sickening, wet sound. Strip by strip.
By the time I was done peeling the skin off his arm, I moved to his legs, beginning from the knees.
I started humming my favorite lullaby, my voice soft and haunting as I peeled his legs, one slow inch at a time.
I didn't want him to die yet.I wanted him to beg for it.
When I was done with both legs, I stood up and walked over to the metal table where my tools were laid out—neatly, beautifully.
I picked up one of the daggers and began refining the edge with another.(Clang… Cling… Scrape…)
The sound of blades sharpening each other filled the room like music. I wondered… how fun would it be to peel off his facial skin while he looked directly into my eyes?
Then another thought crossed my mind.'His eyes would look beautiful in my sculpture. Oh well, I guess I can spare time for gouging after I'm done peeling.'
I walked back toward him slowly, a joker-like grin stretching across my face, dagger glinting in my hand.
"What kind of monster are you?" he rasped. "Do you even know who I am? You better pray I don't find you when I get out of here because I swear I'm gonna ki—"
(SHNK!)
I drove the dagger directly into his central skull, silencing him forever.
"You're too loud," I muttered. "And if anyone needed to pray—it was you. But I guess… it's too late now."
I pulled the dagger out."I'm the God of Death, the rider of the dark horse, and the ruler of the Black Tower. I need not pray. I'm the last descendant of the Black Immortal, the Lady Dragon.
And those I bowed to?They're all ancient history now."
I turned to walk back to the table—then spun around and threw a dagger straight into his corpse's skull.
(CRACK!)The dagger snapped through bone like dry wood.
That sound… it was like music. Sweet, final, and divine.
My hunger for flesh was gone.
"Clean up the mess," I told Can. "I'm going to take a shower. This filth is making me sick."
I climbed into the second car he had arranged for me and headed straight to Khai's house to clean up before going back to the hospital.
Once we arrived, I went upstairs, dropped my phone on the headboard to charge, and entered the shower.
As the water dripped from my hair, flowed down my skin, and pooled at my feet, my mind finally began to clear.
I was in control again.
But just as I reached for the towel—I heard my phone ringing.