Chapter 280: He's Dead

Inside the bar, the light was dim, Bai Mu Yun unusually did not hold a glass of water but a cup of amber, ice‑filled whisky, and his fingertips unconsciously rubbed the cold cup wall.

His complexion was paler than usual, faint blue shadows under his eyes, and the Gold Horizontal Pupil still held fatigue and suppressed irritation.

Lu Mu collapsed onto the booth beside him, one leg propped on the table, the other hanging loosely, a drink in his hand but sipping absentmindedly.

He looked even more disheveled, hair sticking up messily, two fresh, scabbed tiny scratches on his face, and his clothes bore multiple tears and stains.

Lu Mu was not as particular as Bai Mu Yun; let alone bathing or changing clothes, he was too lazy to even move.

But at this moment he was wildly rolling his eyes toward the ceiling, muttering complaints nonstop.

"... I just can't fucking figure it out," Lu Mu gulped a mouthful of liquor, the spicy liquid making his teeth chatter, "Does Fang Zhiyan have eight legs and still can't walk? Huh? Must we be the laborers for this?"

"'Take me to the surface'—so easy to say! My wings are about to cramp, and I still have to fly to the surface with two people while injured!"

Bai Mu Yun closed his eyes briefly, gave no reply, but his fingers on the glass tightened slightly.

Last night he and Lu Mu returned home early to rest; he showered, changed clothes, and after letting Lu Mu roll to the bathroom and clean himself, he restrained the urge to throw him out and agreed to let him stay the night on the living‑room sofa.

Just as he lay on the bed ready to rest, Fang Zhiyan suddenly knocked on the door, giving them no chance to discuss.

He and Lu Mu were forced to get up and work, using Lu Mu's flight ability and his own illusion to conceal themselves, effectively becoming Fang Zhiyan's personal transport.

The crucial part is that it wasn't over yet.

When they reached the surface, Lu Mu hadn't even caught his breath before Fang Zhiyan ordered him to capture live Aberrant Species and bring them back.

Live! And of a specific type and strength range!

Bai Mu Yun and Lu Mu barely stopped for a moment, toiling through the perilous wilderness from late night into the morning before barely completing the task, stuffing the half‑dead Aberrant Species into the special containers Fang Zhiyan supplied and hauling them back.

"Capture Aberrant Species... even specifying type and strength..."

Bai Mu Yun muttered softly, lifted the glass and took a sip; the spicy liquid burned his throat, yet could not suppress the chill in his heart.

"What experiment is he conducting? Or... preparing for that kid?" he thought of Ying Duo's strange "Level Up" request.

"To use that kid as an experience pack?" Lu Mu sneered.

"Enough, I think he's just tinkering with some new gadget, using us as free labor; if he wants to level that kid up, wouldn't it be more efficient to just take him out ourselves?"

Bai Mu Yun offered no rebuttal.

Fang Zhiyan's intentions are always difficult to gauge; rather than overthink, it's better to seize the time to rest properly.

The two fell silent, and only the faint clink of ice against the glass remained in the bar.

Yet that brief tranquility was quickly shattered.

"Bang! Bang bang! Bang bang bang—!!!"

A series of violent door‑banging sounds erupted, as if they wanted to smash the door to pieces.

The noise echoed through the silent bar, especially harsh.

Bai Mu Yun and Lu Mu simultaneously paled, snapping out of their moods to stare coldly toward the door.

The Dream Illusion Bar sat in a remote spot, usually so deserted that not a soul passed its door.

Today, because of their return and last night's commotion, the "Closed" sign hanging outside had never been taken down; who would knock at this hour in such a way?

Moreover, from the racket, the visitor was neither kind nor an ordinary patron.

Supervision Bureau? Church? Or some other trouble?

The two exchanged a swift glance.

Bai Mu Yun flicked his finger, a thin veil of black mist enveloped him and Lu Mu; at his silent signal, though Lu Mu was reluctant to move, he snapped his fingers and a black Raven feather shot out, shattering the lock precisely.

Without the lock, the door creaked as the outsider forced it open, slamming into the wall with a muffled thud.

A figure stumbled in almost simultaneously, wobbling a few steps before managing to stand.

The newcomer was a middle‑aged man, dressed in garishly multicolored shirt and trousers, his hair dyed in a rainbow gradient, looking as if a paint palette had been knocked over.

He rushed in, anxiously scanning the bar hall, his gaze passing over the two unremarkable "drinkers"; he seemed momentarily stunned, then grew even more frantic.

"The bar is already closed," Bai Mu Yun said, his voice altered by illusion to sound hoarse and deep.

"I'm... I'm not here to drink!"

Cai Mao stammered, and although the only two people in the bar seemed ordinary, the moment their eyes fell on him, Cai Mao couldn't help but shiver.

One could say it's fitting for someone Ying Duo knows—no normal person at all!

"Anyway, someone's dead! Are you the officials here?"

Cai Mao stuttered for a moment; Ying Duo had only sent him to deliver a message, without specifying who to find.

"Dead bodies aren't unusual?" Lu Mu replied lazily, tone dripping with irritation, "When does the Slum not have deaths? Get lost, don't disturb me drinking."

"Who sent you?"

Bai Mu Yun stared coldly at Cai Mao, an invisible pressure gradually bearing down on him; the translucent black mist had silently spread throughout the bar hall, and the chilling atmosphere made Cai Mao shiver.

"Ying Duo! He told me to come, saying I should deliver a message to you officials!"

Cai Mao shouted quickly, and when the name "Ying Duo" slipped from his mouth, Bai Mu Yun and Lu Mu's gazes shifted at once.

In Bai Mu Yun's Gold Horizontal Pupil, a faint golden glow swirled, the mist over the bar seemed to solidify, and the air grew heavier and colder.

He ceased rubbing the cup wall, slowly set the glass on the table, producing a soft "tap" sound.

"Ying Duo?" he repeated, tone now scrutinizing, "What message did he ask you to deliver?"

Lu Mu also dropped the leg that had been propped on the table, leaning his body slightly forward.

He surveyed Cai Mao from head to toe, his gaze lingering on the overly flamboyant clothes and panicked face; even just from the aesthetics, he was convinced the guy was linked to Ying Duo.

A normal person couldn't pull off such outrageous color matching.

Cai Mao grew increasingly uneasy under their stare, swallowing a mouthful of saliva.

"Ying Duo—he's dead...!"