Qi Zhiyong's fierce courage didn't surprise the Break-Door Demon for long.
The demon quickly realized it had been provoked. With a roar, the chains binding it snapped completely, and the magical "Soul-Capturing Chain" was destroyed.
Then, its only remaining massive hand swelled larger and slammed down hard on Qi Zhiyong, who was still trying to bleed it out with his short blade. Qi Zhiyong was pinned to the ground.
The power granted by the "Heavenly Demon Release" technique was meaningless to the Break-Door Demon.
It transformed its palm into a fist and smashed downward with brutal force.
Pft!
The inhuman might struck Qi Zhiyong.
Crash!
His upper body shattered, and the ground beneath him caved in—concrete cracked open, blood seeping into the crevices. If not for the steel reinforcement bars, the floor would have been broken through entirely.
Wu Xian was stunned.
What the hell was going on?
He and Qi Zhiyong had their grudges; just moments ago, Qi Zhiyong even tried to use them as bait to save himself. So why had this guy suddenly turned into some kind of martyr, throwing himself at the demon with reckless abandon?
No matter what Qi Zhiyong's motives were…
If he died now, would the demon turn its sights on them?
Wu Xian raised his bronze coin spear, and Shi Ji drew his "Boy's Urine" sword, both bracing themselves. With their recently upgraded weapons, they still had some confidence.
The evil spirits they'd faced before had only possessed strange abilities. Though eerie and terrifying, a hit from their magic tools or talismans could kill them.
But the Break-Door Demon was a different breed.
Its strength was exceptional — this green giant-like creature could not be fought off with just a bronze coin spear and a short saber.
It couldn't!
Qi Zhiyong's shattered body littering the ground was proof.
Yet even without much confidence, Wu Xian and Shi Ji had no choice but to stand firm—there was nowhere to run.
To their surprise, the Break-Door Demon didn't attack them.
Although the "Soul-Capturing Chain" had snapped, another chain remained—pure black with sharp serrated edges, woven through the demon's flesh as if it were part of its body. This chain stitched its left arm into its bloody abdomen.
And now that chain was undone.
The demon pulled its arm free from the blood-soaked cavity, regaining two arms—stronger than before.
The newly emerged arm looked more human-like and gripped a large ring of keys.
Wu Xian's heart sank.
Judging from the shape of the keyring, it must be the spare keys to the Ping'an Inn. Previously, the demon could only open one door per day—but now, armed with keys?
A wave of helplessness washed over him.
Wu Xian had spent so much effort figuring out the demon's rules, even killing Qi Zhiyong in the process—and now it was all meaningless.
The Break-Door Demon fixed a deep, sinister glare on the two of them, curling its lips into a cruel smile.
Then…
Whoosh!
The lights went out!
The hallway was plunged into complete darkness.
Inside the rooms, there were windows, so some moonlight filtered in even with the lights off, but the corridor had none. The instant the lights died, it became pitch black, so dark that one couldn't see their own hands.
Panic gripped Wu Xian immediately.
At least with the lights on, they could see the demon. But now, how could they know where it lurked?
Imagination amplified their fear.
Perhaps the demon was right in front of them, its grotesque face inches from their own.
Maybe the crushing hand that had pulverized Qi Zhiyong hovered above their heads, ready to smash them next.
Maybe…
Wu Xian endured the longest ten seconds of his life, while Shi Ji's mind was overwhelmed with flashing images. Both trembled with fear until the lights flickered back on.
The Break-Door Demon was gone.
Qi Zhiyong's broken corpse lay in the center of the hallway. His shattered face stared blankly at Wu Xian, who couldn't bear to meet his gaze.
Though the Blessed Land felt like home…
This home had a dreadful atmosphere, with severe domestic violence, making Wu Xian want to run away.
Shi Ji's face was even more ashen.
Those ten seconds had been too intense; he desperately needed to change his pants.
Others on the fourth floor were not oblivious to Qi Zhiyong's death.
Room 404 — He Qiong's room.
Sitting on the bed, sisters Su Huilan and Su Huijin held hands, their delicate faces icy cold.
"Qi Zhiyong is dead."
"Why did it have to be him?"
Among all the survivors, the two sisters understood Qi Zhiyong's abilities the best. According to the rules, he should have been the safest person.
Yet the one who was supposed to live the longest was the one who died so early.
The situation was spiraling out of control, and the sisters clung to each other in panic.
"Ajin, I will protect you," one whispered.
"But we can't go on like this. Tomorrow, we must find a way to bring someone else over—any one of those three…"
"Then let's hurry and get our makeup done."
"Raise the slit a little here…"
"Make the eyes bigger, redden the rims, add some eye drops… act pitiful. Those lonely guys who've never had a girlfriend are the easiest to fool…"
Room 401.
Wen Chao's room.
"Sigh, he wasn't a bad kid…"
Wen Chao had seen too many young people. To him, Qi Zhiyong was just like Fang Zhi—stubborn in certain ways, someone who acted strictly by his own rules.
"I'm an old man too; I can't just hide here forever, waiting for the young ones to die so I can die pathetically too."
"Tomorrow, just wait for tomorrow."
His tone was strange, less like talking to himself and more like speaking to someone else.
The glow of an advertisement sign outside streamed through the window.
Wen Chao's desk was cluttered with all sorts of things—he seemed to be trying to make something. His bedspread was spread out, and it looked like someone lay beneath the covers.
Wen Chao himself sat on a chair by the bed.
He took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes, then leaned over the blanket. His hand reached under the covers to grasp another hand tightly. Exhausted, his eyes gradually closed. Just before falling asleep, he whispered softly:
"A young man has died."
"Now you have something to eat again. Eat well, and the sickness will go away. Once you're well, we'll go home together."
Wu Xian's door to Room 406 was kicked open. Qi Zhiyong's Room 402 had turned into a bloody, filthy mess. That left only Room 403, where Shi Ji originally stayed, still safe.
The two entered, their bodies relaxing for the first time in hours.
Tonight's hellish experience made even an ordinary room feel like paradise.
After a quick wash, Shi Ji changed into clean pants. Neither of them minded sharing the bed. Shi Ji quickly fell asleep, but Wu Xian lay awake for a long time, thinking about Qi Zhiyong.
Wu Xian never regretted betraying Qi Zhiyong—he even felt somewhat proud of his plan.
But honestly, Qi Zhiyong had sacrificed himself, buying Wu Xian and Shi Ji a chance at survival.
That thought left Wu Xian feeling strange.
Tossing and turning, unable to sleep, he finally got up and, by the faint light from the window, began flipping through the notebook Qi Zhiyong had given him.
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