Chapter 214: Sister, Don't Be Afraid

—That is pain beyond human comprehension.

Stout, purplish‑red veins, like parasitic worms with a mind of their own, forcibly pierced Chen Shao's temples and burrowed into the sulci deep within his brain. Each one throbbed, and every throb pumped some toxin from his eyeball into his neural center.

Ah—!!!

Chen Shao lifted his head, and a howl of extreme anguish rolled from his throat.

The sound didn't seem to come from vibrating vocal cords; it was more like two rusted iron plates scraping each other, making one's teeth ache and the brain's marrow boil.

A halo of dark red mist rose around Chen Shao, mingled with a scent of blood, enough to make anyone want to vomit at a single breath.

"What is this?"

Ouyang Feng stepped back half a pace, his eyebrows knit tightly. The Death Dragon in his hand buzzed, its blade trembling at a frequency that could shred raindrops.

This thing before him… made him feel nauseous.

It wasn't visual nausea, but a physiological repulsion—like a normal person seeing a pile of rotting flesh teeming with maggots, a fear encoded in the genes against such twisted existence.

Boom!

Centered on Chen Shao, an invisible ripple burst outward violently.

No flying sand or stones, no rolling gusts.

Yet as it spread, the air within a fifty‑meter radius became exceedingly viscous.

A few Special Forces members still struggling to rise from afar froze instantly. Then the Captain who had been issuing orders suddenly threw his gun aside, clamped both hands tightly around his own throat, his eyes bulging as if to burst, and shouted wildly:

"Don't come! Don't eat me! Damn… get out!!"

What did he see? No one knows.

The two members beside him fared worse: one knelt in mud, pounding his forehead madly against the air, his forehead shredded, blood and mud smeared across his face;

the other drew a tactical dagger and frantically hacked at his broken leg, laughing foolishly as if the leg weren't his at all.

Chaos.

Complete chaos.

That out‑of‑control left eye no longer distinguishes friend from foe; it has become a damaged high‑power radiation source, indiscriminately injecting a signal called "Madness" into every sentient creature.

Ouyang Feng snorted coldly. He twisted his wrist, angling the blade, and the irritating ringing in his ears was instantly cut off by the blade's aura.

He is an exception.

This level of Spiritual Pollution can drive ordinary people mad, but for him it is insufficient to cloud judgment.

Because of his willpower, even placed within the Federal Weird Investigation Bureau—a gathering of elites—he remains among the top.

And the Death Dragon in his hand is itself a Weird pollutant, capable of counteracting other Weird influences.

Ouyang Feng tiptoed, his form darting forward like a phantom. He no longer wished to watch this farce; such a highly dangerous existence must be eliminated immediately.

Three meters.

Two meters.

One meter.

Ouyang Feng stepped into the red mist surrounding Chen Shao.

In that instant, the hand gripping the blade halted.

The feeling was strange.

It wasn't that something blocked him; rather, his brain—the utterly calm, mission‑focused brain—suddenly produced an absurdly extreme thought.

—Why not try slashing one's own throat with this blade?

It must feel wonderful, right? The sound of hot blood spurting, the chill of a cut trachea…

The thought arrived inexplicably, yet it was as intense as his life's greatest desire. His hand even trembled involuntarily, the tip of the blade swiveling slightly, truly pointing at his own carotid.

"Am I… being controlled?"

Ouyang Feng's pupils snapped shut to needle‑point size.

Even if reason is lost, even if the brain is churned into mush, the instinct of Chen Shao's eye still protects its host. Any creature approaching this domain will be forcibly implanted with a "Suicide" command.

Even he fell victim.

Ouyang Feng bit his tongue, and the metallic rust taste instantly dispelled the hallucination in his mind.

His gaze hardened, blue veins bulged on the back of his hand—he was using willpower to forcibly oppose his body's instinct.

"Get out!"

He whispered a low command in his mind.

The suicidal thought and his murderous intent clashed wildly in his mind, like two beasts fighting for control of this body.

This is Ouyang Feng. If it were anyone else, even a few of the Core Captains standing here would probably already have slit their throats by now.

Zzzzz—

It was the strange sound produced by the friction of spiritual power against blade intent.

Ouyang Feng bore the pressure that threatened to rip his skull open and forced a step forward.

As his foot landed, the cement beneath cracked with a "crack" sound, splitting into countless fissures.

"Die!"

The Death Dragon in his hand finally overpowered that Weird force, albeit slowly, still moving toward Chen Shao's head.

At that moment.

Dada dada da!

A distant, already‑mad Special Forces member suddenly grabbed a Submachine Gun from the ground and, eyes closed, sprayed wildly upward.

He wasn't targeting anyone; he simply pulled the trigger out of sheer terror.

Bullets flew chaotically.

Such aimless fire would normally not harm a master of Ouyang Feng's caliber, and even Chen Shao's Weird intuition could dodge it.

But the problem is that this is the entrance to the Air-raid Shelter.

This place is long neglected, and it just endured a barrage of artillery, already on the verge of collapse.

A stray shell, unlucky as ever, happened to hit the half‑broken load‑bearing pillar above the entrance.

Crumble!

A muffled thud.

That pillar could no longer hold up.

A concrete slab the size of a millstone, together with several rusted Reinforced Steel Bars, whooshed down and smashed.

The position was spot on, directly toward Chen Yao.

The little girl Chen Yao stared at the hellish scene outside with a deathly pale face, terrified to the point she couldn't even cry.

If that stone landed solidly, her tiny body would be turned into mush on the spot.

At that moment.

Ouyang Feng's blade still hung in midair.

The maddened Chen Shao was still roaring, frantically clawing at his scalp with both hands, tearing his face into a bloody mess.

Time seemed to slow.

So slow that Ouyang Feng could see the stone's falling trajectory clearly, and the despair reflected in the little girl's eyes.

He couldn't save her.

He was fully focused on countering Spiritual Pollution; if he withdrew the blade to rescue her, the backlash would turn him into a fool.

Moreover, that monster… the now completely beastly Chen Shao was in extreme frenzy, indiscriminately attacking every living thing that came near.

However.

The next second.

Something happened that he could never comprehend in his lifetime.

The raging, screaming monster, whose brain had been turned into a sieve of blood vessels, suddenly stopped the instant the stone fell.

As if someone had flipped a switch.

All the roaring, all the madness, all the struggle, ceased abruptly at that moment.

Chen Shao's remaining right eye was still clouded, lacking any human clarity.

But the body moved.

It moved with unreasonable speed.

He didn't even bother about Ouyang Feng's deadly blade overhead, showing no defense or thought of evasion.

He simply turned around, staring straight.

His back was fully exposed to the Death Dragon's blade.

Then the blood‑soaked figure lunged fiercely toward Chen Yao.

He didn't use his hands to brace, nor his feet to kick.

He used his back to catch the several‑hundred‑kilogram stone.

Like a shield.

A tattered, ragged umbrella trying to block the whole collapsing sky.

Thud!!

A heavy, muffled impact.

It was the sound of stone striking flesh, painful to hear.

Puff!

Chen Shao's whole body was knocked downwards, a gush of black blood spurted onto the muddy ground beside the entrance.

The concrete monolith reinforced with steel bars slammed solidly onto his back, crushing him nearly in half.

But he didn't fall.

His two hands gripped the ground on either side of the entrance; even though his nails shattered and the muscles in his arms tore from the strain, he didn't collapse.

Because beneath him was Chen Yao.

If he leaned even a little, the stone would crush his sister's head.

Silence.

Dead silence.

Rain kept falling, pattering on the stone pressing on his back.

Ouyang Feng's blade hovered in midair.

But he didn't move.

He watched the scene, and on his eternally unchanged icy face, a look called "blankness" appeared for the first time.

This is unscientific.

It defies all biological common sense.

Why would a monster whose brain is utterly destroyed and wholly driven by killing instinct do this?

Why?

Cough... cough cough...

From beneath the stone came a faint coughing sound.

Chen Shao's head hung low, his face almost pressed to the mud; the weight on his back made each breath feel like swallowing a blade.

Blood ran down his chin, dripping onto Chen Yao's face.

Chen Yao was stunned.

She curled up in the narrow space propped up by her brother, watching the blood‑stained face above, watching the eye that was still spewing blood outward.

That eye was terrifying; it was the devil's eye.

But at this moment, that devil was smiling at her.

It was a very ugly smile.

The corner of its mouth tugged at the wound on its face, skin and flesh curling, uglier than crying.

"Nothing... nothing's wrong..."

Chen Shao's voice was hoarse and indistinct, as if a mouthful of blood foam lodged in his throat.

His intact right eye, its eyelid twitching, the light inside it slowly dimming.

But he still strained to see the little face before him clearly.

"Don't... don't be afraid..."

"Stone... I'll block it for you..."

"Medicine... the medicine is in the pouch... it's... not broken..."

With each word he uttered, a gush of blood welled up in his mouth.

Yet his hands braced on the ground remained motionless, hard as two iron stakes.

That was a resolve that surpassed the limits of flesh.

Even if his mind was ruined, even if he became a ghost, even if he wiped out this entire world...

He still could not let that stone fall on his sister's head.