Chapter 38

The entire world inverted; the many figures in the meeting dissolved into hazy shadows, voices murmured beside her—perhaps the chairperson speaking, perhaps Feng Liancheng asking her something, then suddenly everyone around her was shouting at her, the shouts escalating into roars, rising and falling in her ears.

She struggled to open her eyes, seeing through blur the ceiling’s dense array of lamps, spinning like a kaleidoscope before her; for an instant, familiar faces flashed by, their expressions anxious and concerned as they spoke to her.

Suddenly, they all stared at her in terror, someone pointed and screamed; countless voices clamored around her, countless figures darted back and forth, the ambient dark matter energy surged violently…

Why were they shouting at her? Did someone want to attack her?

Had they discovered her abnormality? Had they found out she absorbed the life source?

A profound terror surged from deep within her—no, no, not me!

I didn’t kill anyone, the altar has nothing to do with me!

Why is the life source of those four thousand people on you? Someone seemed to ask.

I… I don’t know. She was utterly bewildered, muttering: “I don’t know, I don’t know…”

You are the murderer! You absorbed the life source of over four thousand people! You are the root of all evil!

Countless voices merged into a torrent, drowning her protests; her frail figure was about to be swallowed by this overwhelming condemnation…

‘Kill them! Kill them all!’ it cried urgently: ‘If you don’t act now, it’s too late—they’re going to kill you! Hurry! Do it now!’

‘No! They’re innocent! I don’t want to… become a butcher…’

‘And what about you? Are you innocent? Do you willingly let this mob judge you? Kill you? Admit it—you don’t care about them. You hate humanity. You hate this world. There’s nothing in this world you care about. You deliberately keep your distance. You never form deep bonds with anyone. You hate everyone. You despise everyone! Kill them! End it all! All your troubles will vanish! Do it now—before you weaken further and lose your chance!’

An intense hunger surged from within her body, leaving her limp. She had never imagined hunger could hurt this badly—ten thousand ants gnawed at her organs and flesh from within; she slumped in her chair, drenched in cold sweat.

‘Hurry, while you still have strength! Do it!’ it urged anxiously.

Yang Yi suddenly felt her hands, then her feet—some strength returned to her body, yet the clamor in her ears persisted, countless voices arguing and screaming. Her vision blurred; she tried to open her eyes, but only felt dizzy.

‘Kill! Kill! Kill!’ it shrieked in madness, its tone excited and desperate.

Through her blurred vision, Yang Yi suddenly smiled. ‘Is this your goal?’ she asked softly.

She leaned helplessly against the chairback, enduring the agony of ten thousand ants gnawing inside her, laughing almost hysterically: ‘You finally came out. I’ve been waiting for you a long time…’

It remained silent.

But Yang Yi pressed on, as if pouring all her pain into words: ‘You knew you’d emerge—you made me absorb life source, made me addicted to it, made me unable to eat normal food—wasn’t that just to force me to keep drawing life source? Let me tell you: I hate being forced to do things I don’t want to do. Even if I starve to death, I will never absorb another person’s life source!’

Suddenly she burst into wild laughter, taunting: ‘Come on! Keep torturing me! Make me hurt! Make the ants gnaw through me! Strip my skin, tear my tendons, crush my bones! Let me ooze pus, rot and swarm with maggots!’

It remained silent, as if all this were merely Yang Yi’s solitary performance.

The pain within her surged again and again, burning like fire, her organs charred black, her mouth parched as if lost in a desert, every grain of sand grinding her throat raw and cracked.

Then, the burning turned to icy cold; her charred organs froze over, her body grew numb, her clothes and skin fused into a single block; with the slightest movement, large patches of flesh tore away.

Yang Yi laughed nervously under her breath: ‘Yes! Yes! Just like this! Keep torturing me! It hurts so much! But… only humans feel pain—and this makes me feel human. I am human! That’s why I must feel this pain… Not only must I feel it, I must enjoy it. Have you ever heard of ascetics? They torment their bodies to practice their faith… I never believed in it. I worship no gods. I scorn all gods… But this pleasure of self-torture? It’s truly fascinating…’

She murmured to herself, a strange smile on her face. Her entire body was soaked in sweat; blood seeped from her thirty-six thousand pores, mixed with fragments of organs, slowly dripping…

Gradually, after what felt like a lifetime—or perhaps only an instant—the pain slowly receded.

‘So, are you leaving? I haven’t enjoyed it enough yet…’ Yang Yi said, then suddenly understood: ‘Oh—I get it. This was just a little reminder, wasn’t it? You haven’t even used your full strength!’

She involuntarily shuddered, then laughed even more hysterically: ‘Good. I’m waiting for you… Either you torture me to death… or it submits to you. Either way, it’s a kind of release…’

The hunger faded; she began to sense her stomach, her body, her limbs, her hands again. Her organs still trembled with residual agony, but it was the final echo.

Yang Yi wanted to open her eyes, return to the real world. But she feared returning—this fear surpassed even the agony of hunger—had they already noticed something wrong with her? How would they see her? How would they treat her? Would they call her a murderer? A hypocritical monster? Would they imprison her? Had my image been broadcast live to the entire world? Had everyone seen me, broken and humiliated, condemned by thousands?

This fear paralyzed her. She would rather remain in this dream, never awaken, than face this moment.

Oh—Christ still waits for me. He came to Xincheng specifically to see me. Has he seen this on the news…?

Suddenly, the figure of the Fire Demon flashed before her—its horns broken, its body streaming magma-like blood; as it died, it laughed wildly: ‘I told you—I would curse you…’

Suddenly, she stood again in the dark, stagnant otherworld; a stone chair appeared on the altar. Her body moved uncontrollably toward it; she gently touched it, as if remembering something, a contented smile on her face—then she sat down.

She looked down: beneath the altar, corpses piled layer upon layer, dense as grains of sand, stretching to the distant horizon.

Their withered faces bore smiles—strange, satisfied—as if offering themselves to her was the greatest happiness. Some faces seemed familiar. Yang Yi looked closer: Feng Liancheng, Chen Yushu, Director Zhou, Daniel, Helen, Jane… Then a face she had adored for four and a half years appeared—eyes closed, hiding their blue depths, skin gray and withered. He lay at her feet, his face still wearing a sweet, shy smile, asleep in a dream from which he would never wake…

No!