Chapter 329: The Golden Clan

Previously, Fosler had used the ink line to mark the opera house as a prison, trapping over a hundred guests and staff inside; only a few lucky ones found the sole exit Fosler had left on the balcony and escaped, while the unlucky ones wandered aimlessly like headless flies, and the timid huddled together in groups.

And now, in an instant, they all vanished, leaving not a trace.

To Ning Zhe’s perspective, this eerie scene was like a sky full of twinkling stars one moment, then all extinguishing simultaneously the next, leaving only a hollow, silent darkness—empty and void.

Ning Zhe left the dance floor and returned to Box 1, lifting the curtain and stepping inside; the room was empty, and the corpses of I Ke, A Lun, and Sha Li Sha Li, who had fallen here earlier, were gone.

“Turned people into thin air?” Ning Zhe walked to the oval table in the center of the room, glancing sideways at the touchscreen embedded in the glass tabletop; its black screen reflected Feng Yu’s delicate profile, while a dried water stain ringed the table’s edge, making him frown.

That was Sha Li Sha Li’s seat—she had died at the poker table after the gambler’s curse claimed her.

Unlike I Ke and A Lun, who had collapsed backward onto the sofa, Sha Li Sha Li’s corpse had toppled forward onto the table, her cheek pressed against the glass; after death, her facial muscles and lips had lost control, and pooled saliva had dripped from the corner of her mouth, leaving a dried stain on the surface.

Ning Zhe went to the seat where Xia Yubing had sat, touched the dried saliva mark on the table, and felt a lingering dampness beneath his fingertips—it was real, not an optical illusion.

“Sha Li Sha Li’s corpse vanished, but the dried saliva stain remains.”

“But when the robed man disappeared, the bloodstains on the dance floor vanished too.”

“What’s the difference here?”

Ning Zhe felt he had pulled a thread from the tangled mess, but didn’t know where to begin unraveling it.

……If he couldn’t untangle it, then fine—he didn’t want to.

Ning Zhe exhaled softly, calming his chaotic thoughts. He wouldn’t think further—he wasn’t here to solve mysteries. He returned to the opera house only to find the gambler and retrieve the Snake God’s almanac; he mustn’t stir up more trouble.

“I must control my mind—no wild thoughts, no blind curiosity, no opening doors for Jue Yuan. I will not let myself fall into another trap like in Fan Nisha Castle…” Ning Zhe closed his eyes, clamped his lips shut, rose from Xia Yubing’s seat, and turned to leave.

The moment he opened his eyes, a pale face suddenly appeared before him; he froze—there, sitting beside him, was the corpse of a girl in a white silk dress, slumped forward onto the table, arms hanging straight down, her wheat-toned cheek flattened against the surface, dried saliva still clinging to her lips, her once-bright violet eyes now lifeless—it was Sha Li Sha Li’s corpse.

Ning Zhe’s finger twitched on the table as he stared into the girl’s vacant eyes, and a memory flashed through his mind.

Many years ago, when he was in elementary school, Ning Zhe had looked forward to the weekly computer class, where he could sneakily play games copied onto USB drives by classmates; he’d forgotten the game’s name, but remembered a man in a floral shirt driving a tank down a highway.

Ning Zhe didn’t like tanks—he preferred helicopters, clumsily flying aimlessly with the awkward keyboard and mouse controls.

But the school computers were underpowered; when flying high, the map loaded in stuttering chunks, so the helicopter would already be past a region while the trees and buildings hadn’t rendered yet—only blank, flashing solid-color patches appeared on screen; one moment the ground was empty, the next, red-painted houses and emerald trees materialized—this always reminded Ning Zhe of religious tales of gods creating all things from nothing.

The dead Sha Li Sha Li before him was like a model suddenly spawning in a video game—giving Ning Zhe a powerful sense of unreality, as if he weren’t in the real world but inside some virtual rendering process, where everything he saw and heard could be altered at will.

But Ning Zhe reached out and gently stroked the girl’s delicate cheek; her corpse still retained warmth, soft and warm beneath his palm, his fingers brushing the fine hairs at her temple, smooth and silken as silk.

“Huh…”

Ning Zhe exhaled softly, glanced sideways—and saw two male corpses lying on their backs on the sofa across the table: I Ke and A Lun, who had gambled with Xia Yubing. Their bodies had vanished, then reappeared.

He let go, stood up, left the table, and walked to the edge of the box, looking down at the audience seats below—four motionless silhouettes sat quietly in the front row, two men and two women, drenched in blood: the makeup artist and male attendants who had died in the Russian roulette game; after their brief disappearance, they had returned.

Ning Zhe turned back, entered the box, grabbed Sha Li Sha Li’s hair, yanked her head up, and pinched her small chin, studying her face—exquisitely beautiful, like a game model.

From ear to cheek, brow ridge to nose bridge, Ning Zhe examined every inch of her skin and features; his cold gaze swept over her rose-petal lips and elegant nose, finally settling on the tear mole beneath her left eye.

This was precisely why Fan Daike had chosen her as his disciple—Sha Li Sha Li’s bone structure was already exceptional, and the tear mole beneath her right eye added a sorrowful, pear-blossom-like aura, making her seem like a delicate, fragile artwork, easily stirring a man’s desire to dominate her.

But now, that tear mole Fan Daike had found so striking had moved to beneath her left eye.

“Interesting.” Ning Zhe lowered Sha Li Sha Li’s corpse and gazed thoughtfully toward the audience seats beyond the box.

He had seen the same phenomenon before in the Chenyu Valley Prison—a strange entity controlled by Fen Wu, capable of reversing up and down, left and right, even life and death.

(End of Chapter)