Chapter 538: New

The iron gate opened.

A damp, fishy odor burst out of the Containment Cell, mingling with rotten meat, moldy walls, bloodwater, and the scent of people who haven't seen sunlight for a long time.

Zhao Xiao stood at the doorway, and his first reaction was not to go in.

He raised his hand to cover his mouth and nose.

The hand was well maintained, the cuff revealing half of a custom shirt, and the watch face glimmered a costly cool hue under the light.

It clashed with this water cell.

He wore an immaculate haute couture suit, his leather shoes planted on the threshold, refusing even the tips to touch the filthy water inside.

Tsk.

Zhao Xiao wrinkled his nostrils.

"Your Black Pool's environment is truly getting more abstract each year,"

Lao Liang hunched over, grinning like a dog that has finally found a bone.

"Grandpa Zhao, this is for secrecy, right? The conditions are poor, but it's safe—cameras off, recordings erased. Even if the top authority comes to investigate tonight, they won't find anything on you,"

The young prison guard lowered his head, unwilling to look at the person hanging inside the Containment Cell.

Zhou Ping's head hung low.

Blood dripped from his chin into the water.

Tick—

Tick—

That tiny sound seemed both laughable and stubborn amid the humming of the fluorescent tubes.

Zhao Xiao took two steps inside.

The filthy water splashed onto his shoe.

He stopped, lowered his head for a glance.

Lao Liang immediately produced a tissue, squatted to wipe his shoe, his practiced motions making one feel nauseous.

"Grandpa Zhao, don't soil your feet,"

Zhao Xiao made no objection.

After the shoe was cleaned, he finally lifted his gaze toward Zhou Ping.

"Still alive?"

Lao Liang hurriedly replied, "Alive, yes—hardy fate. He was electrocuted three times in the past two days and never stopped breathing. I think these rotten broken bones are just waiting for you to finish them off."

Zhao Xiao smiled.

"Hardy is good."

"Hardy makes it fun."

Zhou Ping's eyelids twitched.

He raised his head slowly, his shoulder bones shifting, the iron chain emitting a harsh scrape.

That face no longer resembled a living person.

His lips were split, blood scabs mixed with mud, the eye sockets sunken, and the wound on his right leg exuded rot.

Yet those eyes were still there.

Red to the point of blackness.

Zhao Xiao saw those eyes, and the contempt on his face deepened.

"Yo, still hating me?"

A hoarse breath rolled from Zhou Ping's throat.

"Zhao Xiao."

"You will die."

Lao Liang slapped him.

Smack.

Zhou Ping's head tilted, his mouth corner split again, blood streaming down his neck.

"How are you talking to Grandpa Zhao?"

Zhao Xiao lifted his hand.

Lao Liang quickly stepped back.

"Don't slap the face."

Zhao Xiao leisurely unbuttoned his suit.

"If the face is smashed, the expression won't look good."

He handed his coat to Lao Liang, rolled up his shirt cuff, revealing a dark‑blue strange pattern on his forearm.

The pattern seemed alive, crawling along the skin, something beneath shifting.

The young prison guard took half a step back.

Lao Liang's eyes were filled with zeal.

A Ji Trickster.

These days, the two characters A Ji are more effective than a red seal.

Some people who commit crimes have to go to prison.

Some people who commit crimes are invited to a commendation ceremony.

Zhao Xiao belongs to the latter.

He extended two fingers and lightly tapped his wrist.

"Come out."

The temperature in the water cell dropped.

It wasn't a natural cold.

It was the flesh instinctively tightening, the hair standing down into the bones.

In the center of the filthy water, a humanoid slowly rose.

It was very thin.

Thin to the point of only a skeleton.

It wore a layer of skin that wasn't its own, the edges sewn with black thread, the thread ends dangling bits of flesh.

It didn't have a complete face.

The facial skin was stripped away, revealing wet red fascia, two rows of teeth exposed; when it smiled, the whole skull twitched.

A Ji Fierce Ghost.

Skin flayer.

When it appeared, Lao Liang and the young prison guard both stepped back to the wall.

Even a seasoned crook like Lao Liang didn't dare get too close.

Zhao Xiao, however, enjoyed the scene.

He liked seeing others frightened.

Especially liked the weak, in despair, realizing that rules don't stand on their side.

"Zhou Ping."

Zhao Xiao lifted a finger and pointed at him through the air.

"When your sister was lying on the ground that day, I didn't intend for her to become like that."

Zhou Ping's body shivered.

Zhao Xiao smiled even more cheerfully.

"Really, I just found her noisy."

"You said if she just walked with me properly, there'd be no problem. But she had to cry, had to scream, had to say 'don't hit my brother',"

"What cheap affection,"

"This thing sounds moving in a press release, but in reality it's worthless,"

Zhou Ping lifted his head.

Bloodwater trickled down from the corner of his eye.

Zhao Xiao took two steps closer and lowered his voice.

"Are you still hoping she'll wake up?"

"Stop dreaming."

"It's just brain death; medically it still has maintenance value, legally it can be prolonged."

"I've already had someone ask the hospital."

"Life-support costs are high, right?"

Zhou Ping's lips moved, and a few broken words forced out of his throat.

"You dare..."

Zhao Xiao cut him off.

"Of course I dare."

"When you die, I'll go to the ICU often to see her, and play fun games with her."

"Don't worry, I won't let her be too lonely."

Lao Liang gave a dry laugh twice beside them.

The young prison guard's face turned pale, and in a low voice said, "Zhao, this..."

Zhao Xiao turned his head and gave him a glance.

"Do you have any objections?"

The young prison guard immediately fell silent.

Zhao Xiao turned back, his tone light.

"Zhou Ping, aren't you good at filming surveillance?"

"Next time I'll have someone film the footage and burn it over to you."

In the water cell, the iron chains swung violently.

Zhou Ping strained forward, his shoulder blades pulled, emitting a faint clatter.

Flesh tore open.

Blood flowed down his arm.

He didn't want to live.

Nor did he want to break free.

What remained on that face no longer belonged to survival.

It was hatred.

Hatred that had been squeezed dry, pressed to the bottom, burned black.

The whites of his eyes were filled with blood.

A bloodied wound split at the corner of his eye.

Two streams of bloody tears ran over his filthy face.

He opened his mouth, but couldn't shout.

Three days and four nights of torment wore his throat out.

So that anger could only pound inside his chest.

Pounding the bones.

Pounding the blood vessels.

Pounding the fragment of humanity that hasn't been completely shattered.

"Uncle Zhao, this kid…"

Zhao Xiao raised his hand impatiently and gave a smile.

"Look, this is the omen of transformation."

"The Gospel Church loves this kind of trash the most."

He tilted his chin toward the Skin‑peeling Guest.

"Peel it."

The Skin‑peeling Guest opened its mouth wide.

It dragged its long wet skin, stepped through the sewage, and walked step by step toward Zhou Ping.

Those claws were so thin they could slip between flesh and tissue.

Zhou Ping stared at Zhao Xiao.

He wasn't looking at the Fierce Ghost.

He only stared at the man in a suit.

The hero on the television.

The one who sent his sister into the life‑support pod and sent himself into Black Water.

"Zhao Xiao."

Zhou Ping's throat was broken in a terrible way.

"I don't beg the heavens."

"If the heavens had eyes, this kind of thing would have rotted long ago."

Zhao Xiao dug at his ear.

"Can a dying speech have a bit of originality?"

Zhou Ping smiled.

It wasn't a smile a human would have.

Blood spurted from his teeth, he laughed until his shoulders twitched, and the iron chain was pulled taut.

"Then I won't beg the heavens."

"I beg the ghost."

The Skin‑peeling Guest's claws were already pressed against his chest.

Another half‑inch forward, and it could cut the skin beneath his collarbone.

But at that instant,

From above the ceiling came an extremely low tremor.

It wasn't the machinery inside Black Water.

Nor was it an earthquake.

The sound came from higher up.

It passed through hundreds of meters of strata, through the Black Water high‑security prison's protective array, and through layers of Weird insulating material.

Lao Liang was stunned.

"What was that?"

Zhao Xiao looked up.

The cement at the top of the Containment Cell showed a ring of dark‑red pattern.

The pattern spread rapidly.

The Black Water alarm did not sound.

The Weird Detection Instrument gave no response.

All the expensive defense systems were as quiet as decorations.

The next second.

A dark‑red meteor streaked through the heavens and the earth.

It gave no one time to dodge.

The top of the Water Prison was silently pierced, the dark‑red trail falling straight to the center.

The sewage churned.

The iron chain flailed wildly.

Lao Liang was blown away by the pressure wave, his back slammed into the wall, and half a tooth was knocked out.

A young prison guard fell by the door, his trousers soaked in Black Water.

Zhao Xiao stepped back three paces, his pupils shrinking to a point.

The Skin‑peeling Guest lunged at Zhou Ping, its motion halted mid‑air.

Then it knelt.

It wasn't knocked down.

It was subdued.

The knees slammed into the filthy water, both claws pressed to the ground, the entire Fierce Ghost's body trembled violently, and a twisted whimper forced out of its throat.

A Ji Fierce Ghost.

Kneeling before Zhou Ping more thoroughly than a dog.

Composure on Zhao Xiu's face cracked.

"Skin flayer?"

"Get up!"

"I'll make you get up!"

The skin flayer didn't move.

It even lowered its head further, pressing it against the sludge, the human skin draped over its body flaking up, revealing trembling fascia underneath.

The blood light faded.

In the center of the water prison, an extra crown appeared.

Black.

Ancient.

Its surface was entwined with chain-like patterns, and the crown's body was set with seven red eyes.

Each eye was open.

All were looking at Zhou Ping.

That wasn't observation.

It was selection.

It was judgment.

It was also mockery.

Zhou Ping lifted his head.

In the seven red eyes, his shattered face was reflected.

Immediately, a consciousness surged into his mind.

Ancient, evil, arrogant, bearing a certain lofty malicious amusement.

It did not speak in human language.

But Zhou Ping understood.

Offer your skin, bone, blood, name, soul.

Offer everything you are as a human.

After donning the crown, you will become the king of the lesion.

You will be devoured by desire, driven by hatred, hunted by the entire world.

You will kill the ones you hate.

You will also destroy many more innocent people.

Do you want it?

Zhao Xiu could no longer care about dignity.

Some inexplicable force made his facial skin twitch, reaching toward the crown.

"What is this thing?"

"Mine."

"It's mine!"

The greed of an A Ji trickster was provoked.

He could sense the crown's stature.

Far surpassing the skin flayer.

Surpassing all Weird Objects he had seen.

As long as he obtains it.

Any Federation, any Investigation Bureau would be trampled beneath his feet.

He alone should be the king.

Zhao Xiu rushed forward.

But as soon as his foot stepped into the blood‑red zone, his whole body knelt down.

His knees smashed the floor tiles, bones cracking with a crisp sound.

A painful howl erupted from his throat.

"Ah!"

The seven red eyes turned, gazing at him for half a second.

Then they looked away.

The disdain was obvious.

The blood color on Zhao Xiu's face faded completely.

Being ignored hurt him more than being wounded.

The crown looked back at Zhou Ping.

That contract unfolded in his mind.

The price was written very clearly.

No lies, no traps, not even the bother to dress it up.

Put it on.

You are no longer Zhou Ping.

You will become the bearer of the crown, the vessel of evil thoughts, the knife that sifts the world.

Zhou Ping lowered his head.

In the Black Water on the ground, his current form was reflected.

Rotten leg.

Broken tooth.

Blood tears.

The suspended arms.

The stolen life.

And Zhou Ning's pink hairpin.

She said, "Brother, when I start work, I'll buy you a new motorcycle."

She said, "Brother, stop always fighting people hard; you are the one who suffers."

She said, "Brother, I want to live with a bit more dignity."

Dignity.

Zhou Ping laughed again.

His throat whistled, the laughter shattered, yet each burst turned the water surface crimson.

"Dignity, what a fart."

"Has this world ever given us dignity?"

Zhao Xiao struggled to lift his head, and fear finally appeared on his face.

Zhou Ping's forehead drooped, blood flowing along his brow bone to the tip of his nose.

"Zhao Xiao."

"You say ordinary people aren't entitled to reason."

"Then today I'll change the way I speak."

He looked up, staring at the crown, with no hesitation left in his eyes.

"As long as I can kill you lot of self‑righteous beasts."

"Even if we destroy this world together, so what?"

Lao Liang crouched in the corner, terrified enough for his crotch to be wet.

The young prison guard's lips trembled as he rolled and crawled back toward the doorway.

Zhao Xiao shouted with all his might, "Bo Pi Ke! Kill him! Kill him!"

Bo Pi Ke lay in the sewage, only a pleading whimper coming from his throat.

Zhou Ping turned his blood‑soaked forehead toward the crown.

Seven red eyes contracted simultaneously.

The crown did not fall.

It melted.

Dark‑red liquid spread from Zhou Ping's forehead, seeping into the skin, drilling into the skull, and pouring along the sutures deeper inside.

Zhou Ping's body convulsed violently.

The iron chains snapped one by one.

It wasn't external force that broke them.

The rusted iron corroded itself, became brittle, and turned to black ash.

He fell into the sewage, yet did not collapse.

The dark‑red veins spread from his forehead, down along the eye sockets, neck, and chest.

Seven phantom red eyes opened above his head, then closed one by one, finally sinking entirely into his skull.

The lamp in the water prison went out completely.

In the darkness, only the dark‑red crown pattern beneath Zhou Ping's forehead was breathing.

Zhao Xiao knelt on the ground, his teeth trembling.

He suddenly realized that the contract between him and Bo Pi Ke was spiraling out of control.

The A Ji Fierce Ghost he had commanded for years gave no response to his orders.

No struggle.

No resistance.

It buried its head in the sewage, and toward Zhou Ping's direction emitted a low howl of extreme terror.

Zhao Xiao's throat went dry.

"Bo Pi Ke......"

"What exactly are you afraid of?"

In the darkness, Zhou Ping lifted his head.

Those eyes opened.

They were no longer human eyes.

Seven layers of dark‑red pupils rotated slowly in his eyes.

He looked at Zhao Xiao, and a hoarse whisper squeezed out between his cracked lips.

"Now."

"It's your turn to kneel and listen to my reasoning."