Chapter 983: Falling Flowers

Those several demon‑shadow bodies had their fronts covered with eyes.

Countless tiny, bright‑red, moist eyeballs were densely embedded in the skin, spreading from the chest all the way across the face, arranged irregularly; each one blinked wildly, and the eyelids' flutter produced a faint "pat‑pat" sound.

The red eyes varied in size—some like grains of rice, some like fingernail caps—crowded together as if someone had poured an entire jar of red beads into the flesh.

Moonlight fell on them, each eyeball glimmering with a damp sheen; the pupils pointed in different directions—some staring at Xing, some gazing at the sky, others seeming to examine their companions.

Xing felt as if the scalp were seized in a hand and yanked sharply upward.

A layer of goose‑flesh rose on her back, the countless tiny bumps feeling as if innumerable insects were crawling beneath the skin.

"I... damn."

Xing forced the words out of her throat, her voice sounding as if a cold wind had snapped it in half.

She instinctively stepped back, the sole of her shoe crushing a tiny ice shard, producing a crisp "ka" sound.

The three demon‑shadow bodies instantly swiveled the eyes on their faces toward her; hundreds of red eyes focused at once, their pupils reflecting Xing Na's face, which she forced into composure yet was visibly pale.

"Your look... really strains the eyes."

Xing tugged at the corner of her mouth, trying to pull the atmosphere back into her familiar rhythm, but the words that came out drifted away weakly.

She gripped the baseball bat tightly, her fingers rubbing the handle repeatedly, a thin sheen of sweat beading on her palm.

The few demon‑shadow bodies took a step toward her, their joint bends oddly contorted, like puppets pulled by strings.

Countless red eyes bobbed up and down with the steps, pupils spreading then reconverging, causing Xing to clench her back molars.

"I say, can we negotiate?"

Xing held the baseball bat horizontally before her, assuming a defensive stance; her voice carried a laugh, though it sounded dry, "I'm allergic to eyes."

Perspective shift.

Qingque crouched on a slanted branch, both hands propping her cheeks; her ash‑white hair slipped down from her shoulders, a few strands lightly tangled by the gray‑green floral vines sprouting from her body, and she was too lazy to brush them away.

Those once lively emerald eyes were now half‑open, their pupils reflecting nothing.

A lapis‑blue bell at her ankle hung silently, occasionally swaying before quickly falling still again.

"Qingque."

Yao Guang's voice sounded from beside her.

Qingque's eyelashes twitched sharply, her whole body feeling as if pulled up from deep water; her shoulders gave a slight shudder before she slowly turned her head.

She blinked twice, her gaze still a bit vacant, as if just pulled back from a great distance.

The surroundings remained that dim‑red otherworld, interlaced branches extending in all directions like a beast's veins; red mist surged upward from below, carrying a fishy‑sweet scent.

Nothing had changed since she stared blankly.

"What are you thinking?"

Yao Guang stood at her side, head slightly tilted, silver‑white hair cascading down, shimmering like peacock tail feathers under the dim red light.

Those overlapping violet‑blue eyes fell on Qingque's face, bearing a hint of inquiry.

Qingque shook her head blankly, her movements sluggish.

"Nothing, just spaced out for a while."

Yao Guang let out a soft "hm."

She thought Qingque seemed a bit odd.

The girl said it was nothing, yet her expression clearly showed something had hooked her soul, even her usual lively vigor had withdrawn.

But Yao Guang didn't press further; his gaze slid down Qingque's shoulder and neck, landing on the golden five‑petal flower in front of her.

The flower grew beneath Qingque's left Lockbone, its petals soft and thin, bearing a warm glow, as if a small bundle of dawn had been embedded in her skin.

Unlike the gray‑green vines on Qingque's body, it exuded an oddly out‑of‑place vitality.

Yao Guang extended his hand, his long, fair fingertips gently touching the golden flower.

The petal sank slightly under the pressure, then rebounded when she released, feeling cool and smooth, like polished jade.

Qingque's shoulders shrank from the touch, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"How did this flower appear?"

Yao Guang asked, his finger not withdrawing but instead tracing half a circle slowly around the petal edge.

Qingque scratched the back of her head, her ash‑white hair becoming messier; a few half‑withered buds sprouted from her hair, swaying erratically with her movement.

"It just sprouted out of nowhere; when I woke up, it was already on me."

She said this while reaching to pull the golden flower.

Her thumb and forefinger pinched the flower's base and tugged outward; the skin formed a small dent, yet the stem remained motionless, as if fused with her flesh.

She strained again, a painful "hiss" escaping, then immediately released, lowering her head to stare at the flower with a complex expression.

"It's really grown on me; honestly, I feel like I'm turning into a potted plant."

Qingque shrugged helplessly, the draped cloth slipping down from her shoulders, revealing a broad swath of cold‑white shoulder and neck skin.

Yao Guang let out a light laugh, his chuckle tinged with teasing.

She tapped the petal edge with the back of her finger, and the golden flower actually brushed against her finger on its own, as if being coquettish.

"Hey, you grew on me, yet you recognize others first? At least give me some respect."

"It actually likes me."

Yao Guang's smile grew broader, his brows and eyes exuding a hint of pride.

She withdrew her hand, then looked at Qingque seriously, "In your current state, having this golden flower isn't entirely a bad thing; at least it shows the two forces inside you haven't reached the point of tearing each other apart."

Qingque sighed, lowering her head to gaze at the vines on her body.

She reached out to brush aside a gray‑green twig sprouting from her wrist; the twig was already a bit withered, its bud hanging droopily at the tip.

Her voice carried a hint of self‑mockery, "Boss Yao, do you think I can return to my original form? This face, these clothes, and all these flashy flowers—I can barely remember what I used to look like."

Yao Guang lowered his gaze at her, his violet‑blue pupils appearing especially deep in the dim red light.

She slowly withdrew her hand, and her fingertips brushed just below Qingque's Lockbone.

"Will."

Yao Guang said only one word, his tone resolute.

Qingque lifted their face to look at her, their lips moved as if to say something, but in the end only a soft "Oh" came out.

Just as she was about to stand up, a "Pat" sounded from her body.

Qingque lowered their head and saw that among the gray‑green floral branches on their body, a half‑withered flower tail had fallen from a branch, landing at her feet; the petals were already curled and wrinkled, the edges tinged with a withered yellow.

She looked up at Yao Guang, then lowered her head to look at the flower, her tone full of confusion: "We walked the whole way just now and didn't lose a single one; why did one suddenly fall now?"

Yao Guang's gaze fell on the fallen flower, his eyebrows lifted, and a hint of amusement flashed in his violet‑blue pupils.