Chapter 218: The Weird Emissaries Attract Each Other

Federal Weird Investigation Bureau headquarters, the supreme conference room.

A massive holographic projection platform occupied the center of the room, azure light and shadow flickering, illuminating the unpredictable faces of the bigwigs seated in a circle.

Wei Gong sat in the seat of honor, the purple-sand teacup in his hand already cold. He didn't drink, merely rubbing the rim with his thumb, producing a faint scratching sound.

The projection froze on the ruins in a rainstorm. The young man pushed a wheelchair, his silhouette slender, yet like an insurmountable mountain.

"All mute?" Wei Gong's voice was low, somewhat hoarse, giving no hint of joy or anger.

The chief of the Intelligence Department on his left wiped sweat from his forehead, swallowed, and said: "Bureau Chief, according to the on-site data traceback…… Chen Shao's ability fluctuations displayed in the final stage have completely exceeded the B Ji range. He can not only conduct large-scale mental interference, but even…… even show signs of interfering with physical reality."

"Conclusion." Wei Gong didn't even lift his eyelids.

"Yes!" The section chief straightened his back, though his voice sounded hollow, "Simply put, in that instant he turned himself into the very 'rule.' He…… dominated the 'rule' of the entire area."

A chorus of sharp intakes of breath sounded in the conference room.

"What about Ouyang Feng?" Wei Gong suddenly asked.

Wang Zhangzhi sighed, stubbing out his cigarette butt in the ashtray: "He came back and locked himself in the training room. No one who knocked got a reply. From the noise inside, it's like a demolition crew moving in."

Wei Gong nodded, finally lifting the teacup and taking a sip. The ice‑cold tea was somewhat bitter and astringent, but he seemed to enjoy this nerve‑stimulating flavor.

Someone hesitated, then said, "Ouyang Feng got beaten so badly this time he's questioning his life. After all, it was a outright crush—he had no chance to fight back."

"That's not a bad thing." Wei Gong set down his teacup, his gaze sweeping over those present, eyes sharp as a freshly honed scalpel: "In this damned world, sailing too smoothly gets you killed early. Giving him a lesson is better than him dying someday in some obscure weird corner."

He rose, walked to the holographic projection, and extended his bony finger through the young man's image.

"Log it, Archives Department."

Everyone pricked up their ears, pens hovering over their notebooks.

"Target: Chen Shao."

"Original rank: B Ji (extremely dangerous)."

"Now adjusted to: A Ji."

"Codename: Demon Eye."

Training room.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The dull impact could be heard clearly even through the half‑meter‑thick special alloy door.

Ouyang Feng stood bare‑chested, sweat streaming wildly down his muscle lines, pooling on the floor into tiny puddles. Each drop felt as heavy as a lead bead.

His "Death Dragon" was already sheathed; now he pounded the specially made sandbag with his fists, one blow after another.

"Why……"

Ouyang Feng gasped for breath.

His mind was filled with that rainy night.

That frail silhouette.

That left eye, calm enough to chill the soul.

And that word—'retreat.'

Just that one word sent him flying—like a kite with its string cut, like a child shoved aside by an adult.

Humiliation.

An unprecedented sense of humiliation gnawed at his heart like a poisonous snake.

He was the Federation's ace, a demon‑slayer wielding the Death Dragon. He had slaughtered countless monsters, beheaded countless foes, and had always looked down on others.

But at that moment he felt like the ant being looked down upon.

"Ah——!!!"

Ouyang Feng let out a beast‑like roar, his right fist packed with his full strength slamming hard into the sandbag's center.

Bang!

The sandbag let out a mournful cry, actually punched clean through.

Blood spattered.

Ouyang Feng's hand bones were broken. Yet he felt no pain; that intense physical agony instead cleared his head a little, making the haunting figure in his mind fade a bit.

He slid down the wall to sit, staring at his bloody, mangled right hand, and suddenly burst out laughing.

The laugh was hoarse, harsh, tinged with madness.

"Demon Eye…… Chen Shao……"

He licked the sweat from the corner of his mouth; the listlessness in his eyes vanished, replaced by a purer, more dangerous glint.

Medical Department, isolation observation area.

Jiang Yuan sat cross‑legged on the hospital bed, toying with the ace of spades in his hand.

The poker card flipped between his fingers so fast only a black blur could be seen.

Outside the corridor came hurried footsteps and nurses' hushed conversation.

"Have you heard? That Demon Eye……"

"Shh! Don't talk nonsense—that's an A Ji secret!"

"Too scary—I heard Director Ouyang was beaten into withdrawal……"

The voices faded away.

Jiang Yuan's hand stopped moving. The ace of spades balanced on his fingertip, slowly turning.

"Demon Eye……"

He murmured softly.

As someone who likewise wields anomalous power, he has a special sensitivity to such news.

That feeling is quite wonderful.

Just like a lone traveler walking through an endless dark night, he suddenly saw another bonfire lit on a distant hilltop.

Although that bonfire might signify danger, might signify destruction, at least it proved...... that on this road, he was not the only monster.

Jiang Yuan looked at his own shadow.

Under the light, that shadow seemed much darker than a normal person's, thick as a pool of ink that couldn't be dissolved. Occasionally, the edge of the shadow would writhe unnaturally, as if something wanted to burst out.

"You also felt it, right?" Jiang Yuan asked softly.

The shadow didn't answer, but the restless urge to devour everything seemed to have eased somewhat.

Jiang Yuan put away the Poker Card, lay back on the pillow, and stared at the white ceiling.

He felt an inexplicable anticipation.

Jiang Hai City, a certain upscale apartment.

Chu Che sat on the leather sofa in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, holding a glass of red wine.

Outside the window were the city's myriad lights, neon flickering, traffic flowing. In his eyes, these were not scenery, but countless scripts being brewed and fermented.

Before him floated a translucent panel only he could see—the Weird Editor.

At that moment, the panel was playing back the battle from that rainy night.

The image was extremely high-definition, even capturing every subtle change in Chen Shao's facial expression with crystal clarity.

"Perfect."

Chu Che gently swirled the wine glass; the crimson liquid clung to the inner wall like slow-flowing blood.

He pushed up his Gold Thread Glasses, and the eyes behind the lenses glittered with an almost manic appreciation.

"I originally thought he was just a minor character used to spice up the plot, but I never expected...... he would give me such a big surprise."

He extended his slender fingers, tapping a few times in midair, enlarging Chen Shao's data model.

Chu Che's smile grew even richer.

This feeling was like that of a painter who only wanted to doodle casually, suddenly discovering he had painted a masterpiece for the ages.

"Since you're putting in so much effort......"

Chu Che took a sip of red wine, his gaze turning deep: "Then I'll give you a bit more drama. After all, only on the most desperate stage can one dance the most moving steps."

Chengzhongcun, a dilapidated rental house.

The television was playing the evening news.

"...... Recently, the Federation has seen extreme weather in many places; please pay attention to travel safety. Additionally, the police have issued an A Ji wanted notice for the wanted criminal Chen Shao, who is extremely dangerous—if spotted, please report immediately and do not approach privately......"

The screen displayed Chen Shao's photo.

In the photo, the young man wore black-rimmed glasses, appearing frail and harmless.

Lin Fan sat at the somewhat wobbly square table, holding a pair of chopsticks, picking vegetables into his bowl.

He glanced at the TV, his motion uninterrupted.

"This guy doesn't look like a bad person," Lin Fan muttered.

Now he had long shed the youthful, inexperienced student vibe; his skin was tanned to a bronze hue.

His right eye, the normal black pupil, was full of calm; his left eye...... that azure eye was now faintly glowing, exuding a chilling aura that warned strangers to keep away.

A cold little hand rested on his shoulder.

Lin Fan turned his head, his gaze instantly softening.

Ling Xinyu floated behind him.

She wore that familiar white T-shirt, her long hair loose, her complexion pallid to the point of near-transparency.

She gazed at the TV screen, tilting her head, as if pondering something.

Then she extended a finger, lightly tracing across the back of Lin Fan's hand.

A cold sensation came, stroke by stroke.

"Same kind"

Lin Fan froze for a moment.

He put down his chopsticks and, with a backhand, gripped that cold little hand. Though he couldn't truly grasp a physical form, he stubbornly maintained the pose.

"You mean he's the same as us?"

Ling Xinyu nodded, then shook her head.

Her hair floated lightly, a few strands winding around Lin Fan's neck, like a silent intimacy.

"I don't know, but fellow beings are attracted to each other."

Her words appeared in Lin Fan's mind.

Lin Fan fell silent.

He looked at the red-marked wanted notice on the TV, at the youth who, even in the wanted photo, still showed a hint of stubbornness in his eyes.

"Fellow kind?"

Having experienced the incident on Dongdao, he knew this world certainly had beings similar to himself.

He and Ling Xinyu, for revenge, had turned themselves into monsters that were neither human nor ghost.

"What about that Chen Shao—what is he doing it for?"

Lin Fan didn't know.

But he vaguely felt that, someday in the future, their paths would collide.

"Let's eat; thinking too much about the future is pointless."

Lin Fan smiled and slipped a piece of meat into the empty bowl.

Ling Xinyu floated obediently beside him, watching him eat heartily; the originally stiff corners of her mouth seemed to curl up slightly.

Outside the window, the rain continued to fall.

The night in this city is deep, deep enough to hide all the sins, and also to hide all the deep emotions.

And farther away, the gears of destiny have already begun turning, emitting a grinding sound that makes one's teeth ache.

Those monsters that walk in the darkness will eventually meet at some crossroads.

Will they tear each other apart, or walk side by side?

Who knows?

Anyway, this play has only just begun.