Chapter 49: Water Torture

"No—" Luo Qi gripped the only thing he could grab in front of him. But the smooth edge of the Obsidian Table was impossible to hold onto; Luo Qi knew perfectly well that his death throes would not last long.

The one acting was Zhao Zhiyan; even if Luo Qi hadn't been tortured to the brink of death, he would still be no match for Zhao Zhiyan. He had the reinforcement of Magic power; perhaps it wasn't enough to deal with Du Zhengyi, but it was more than enough to deal with Luo Qi.

Luo Qi was hoisted up. He watched his fingers slip from the edge of the Obsidian Table. A strange smell permeated the air, and that eerie smiling face on the rough stone wall became even more distinct; he felt as if he had seen it somewhere before. The whispering of the old house grew louder in his ears; he could not distinguish whether those were real sounds or if his mind had already descended into chaos. Just like this moment, clearly only an instant, yet in his eyes it was infinitely long; every detail was clearly carved into his mind.

He did not want to end like this. He summoned his last bit of courage and struggled frantically to turn around. He exerted force from his waist, twisting violently from right to left; his waist drove his shoulders, and he put all his strength into swinging a fist, striking Zhao Zhiyan heavily. He did not want to be slaughtered like he was three years ago; he would rather choose to be beaten to death while fighting Zhao Zhiyan hand-to-hand.

Zhao Zhiyan was caught off guard and was knocked back a step, releasing him. Luo Qi let out a low growl, his eyes blood-red as he charged at Zhao Zhiyan. He didn't know where the strength came from, but it carried him as he fiercely knocked him down. He straddled Zhao Zhiyan's not-so-sturdy body and, before Zhao Zhiyan could react in his astonishment, punched him in the face.

Luo Qi had never felt so gratified. The despair of being humiliated and tied to the tracks to wait for death had long since burned into a magma-like, scorching rage. He wanted to throw a third punch.

"Enough!" a dignified voice accustomed to posturing barked, "This farce ends here!"

"Ends here, your mother..." Luo Qi roared, swinging his fist, but the punch did not land; an irresistible force bound him.

Li Xu hadn't even touched him before dragging him off Zhao Zhiyan. He struggled, captured by a viscous force that tightened around his limbs like invisible straightjackets for a mental patient. Luo Qi was bound like a corpse; his stiff body floated up, and everything was reset to the original state; his successful resistance just now was like a bug. He floated into the transparent Crystal Coffin on the Obsidian Table. Water dampened the hair on the back of his head, and desperate fear tugged at him. He took a deep breath.

The force on Luo Qi vanished, and he fell heavily into the water inside the Crystal Coffin. The Crystal Coffin was a full meter high, enough to submerge him. As he fell into the water, he instinctively struggled to bring his head above the surface.

Li Xu's calm face appeared before him, looking down at him from above. He shuddered with disgust and pain. Then, a massive force descended upon him, as if someone had stuffed a thousand-pound iron block into his stomach, and he sank, landing all the way at the bottom of the Crystal Coffin.

Water poured into his nose; his bronchial tubes, lungs, and stomach were filled with water, stinging him with a burning sensation. He instinctively flailed his limbs in a struggle, but his blood oxygen levels plummeted as a result, and he inhaled even more water. The water in his lung lobes and trachea irritated him; he coughed reflexively underwater, and more water irritated all his internal cavities. Panic and intense pain overwhelmed his composure. Even though he knew that holding his breath calmly for a while longer might make his final moment slightly more comfortable, physiological reactions made him struggle even more violently. In his final moment, he only felt snot flowing from his nose and throat; he knew he hadn't even managed to keep his last shred of dignity. His tears flowed into the water.

Luo Qi thrashed violently in the water like a fish thrown onto the shore, until all his struggles ceased. His Yajian entered a final trance, like a wisp of blue smoke about to dissipate. In this final moment, he noticed that the coffin was almost completely transparent, somewhere between crystal and glass; through the water and the coffin wall, the world looked dim and yellow, like the apocalypse.

His final thought was that by the time someone found him, he would likely have become a specimen soaking in formalin in a laboratory. Then, the world went completely quiet in his Yajian.

At this very instant, a wisp of Yajian drilled into his Yajian, racing forward in his nearly static world, gradually growing stronger, attempting to seize this last trace of his self.

Luo Qi returned to his childhood home once again, but this time there was no summer breeze or afternoon sun. A storm swept through his world; that violent force smashed his door. He held a small glass cup, a goldfish swimming in his hands. Thunder resounded across the earth, and a voice roared in his mind, blending with the thunder, demanding he let go of everything he held in his palms.

He stared blankly at all of this. The sky was darker than the night; this world was wild and violent, like the beginning of creation, and all he had was the small goldfish in his hands. That beautiful golden creature was trapped in the narrow world of a cup, dependent on this fragile place of survival; it was the only creature he lived with, and he could not bear to let go.

"Let go." The voice in his mind became gentle, coaxing him, "Let go, let it go and you will find peace."

Luo Qi began to sob; he really couldn't hold on anymore. He was too tired, and he felt too wronged. He remembered that everything was meaningless. Why did he exist? A Mage who couldn't use Magic—this existence itself was absurd. He remembered; he remembered he had already decided to go to the human world, but they still refused to let him go. He was here, and no one came to find him—not his parents, not the Venerable in the Magic World, nor Du Zhengyi. Everyone had forgotten him, leaving him to drown in the permafrost beneath the Qionglin Crystal Forest. He would rot here, quietly forgotten by everyone.

So what was the point of holding on to the end?

He heard a voice sigh in response, telling him that this world was absurd by nature, so why be obsessed with the fish in one's hand or the fire in one's heart?

He existed, and he had harmed no one; he vanished, and no one was harmed by him.

He closed his eyes and slowly loosened his grip. He heard the storm reach a clamorous climax in ecstasy; he felt the joy of victory. It was not the joy of finding the truth; it was the joy of conquest, the orgasmic joy of harvesting a new brain. He even felt the sticky dampness beneath that clamor.

At this moment, Luo Qi felt regret; his life was ending in the meaningless act of a pervert.

The glass cup fell onto the floor of the old house, emitting a crisp shattering sound. That golden fish traced a final, perfect arc in the dark void.

"Luo Qi."

He heard someone sigh from somewhere near or far. He focused his attention to listen, and that faint, flickering voice said, "Wait a little longer, just a little longer."

But he could not wait.