Chapter 539: Start Spreading Your Virus

In the black pool water cell, the lamp went out.

But the darkness never truly fell.

Zhou Ping's dark‑red crown pattern on his forehead breathed in a flickering on‑and‑off manner.

Each time it lit up, a layer of the wall peeled away.

Each time it dimmed, the years‑old stench of blood in the sewage was churned up by some invisible Rules.

Zhao Xiao knelt in the sewage, his kneecap cracked, his trousers soaked through with filthy water, and he looked so disheveled he no longer resembled the dashing stationed hero on TV.

He stared at Zhou Ping, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

"Zhou Ping."

"Stay calm."

When he said it, Zhao Xiao himself thought it absurd.

Who just said ordinary people aren't entitled to reason?

Who said that without surveillance, there is no evidence, and no lives?

Who let the skin‑peeler act?

Lao Liang curled up in the corner, not daring to clatter his teeth even in a fight.

A young prison guard lay at the doorway, half his face submerged in sewage, his eyes bulging.

In the center of the water cell.

Zhou Ping lowered his head, his battered body undergoing a transformation.

The refined steel hooks that locked his wrists, originally capable of hanging a mutated one's bones, were expensive custom pieces made by Black Pool Flower.

They claimed the more you struggle, the tighter they get.

Now, after the dark‑red pattern crawls over them, they first turn gray, then crumble into powder.

Whoosh.

The iron chain fell into the water.

The next second, even the chain itself began to corrode, fine red smoke billowing from the break.

Zhou Ping's shoulders drooped.

The joints, suspended for days, emitted a grinding that made one's teeth ache.

The bones realigned.

The fractures re‑bit.

In the gaping wound of his right leg, rotting flesh peeled away in pieces, revealing fresh tissue.

That wasn't healing.

It was more like someone had stripped his old life from him and replaced it with a body built solely for collecting debts.

Zhou Ping stood in blood‑filled water up to his knees.

His spine straightened a little.

Above his head floated the Shadow of the Seven‑Eyed Crown.

Seven red eyes opened, staring at everyone in the water cell.

Zhao Xiao finally couldn't hold on; his throat was as dry as if filled with sand.

"What is this Weird Object?"

"Zhou Ping, listen to me, this thing will kill you."

Zhou Ping lifted his face.

In his black sclera, seven layers of blood‑colored pupils slowly rotated.

"Kill me?"

He laughed a few times, his throat whistling.

"Zhao Xiao, I died in your hands long ago."

Zhao Xiao pressed his back against the wall, his palms on the ground, trying to step back.

But his knees were still kneeling.

He couldn't move.

That dark‑red area pinned him in place, even the skin‑peeler inside his body trembled.

Veins in Zhao Xiao's temples bulged.

"Skin‑peeler!"

"Get up for me!"

The skin‑peeler kneeling in the sewage lifted its head.

Its faceless skull shook violently, an ugly whimper forced from its throat.

It was afraid.

Afraid enough that even the master's contract couldn't suppress its instinct.

Zhao Xiao bit his tongue tip, fresh blood trickling from his lip.

He pressed both hands against his forearms, dark‑blue Weird patterns bulging out in strips.

"I've raised you this long, how many human skins have you eaten?"

"Now playing the grandson?"

"Kill him for me!"

The Weird pattern came alive.

It crawled along Zhao Xiao's arm toward his chest, tiny human faces bulging up beneath the skin.

Those faces opened their mouths and emitted silent wails.

The skin‑peeling guest's body was forcibly pulled up by the contract.

Its spine curved into a Weird arc, and the human skin draped on its body suddenly flared open.

In the water prison, the walls, floor, and ceiling all manifested fine black lines.

Skin‑peeling killing plot.

A Ji Rules.

As soon as one is entangled by the lines, skin, flesh, tendons, and bones are stripped away layer by layer; the person remains alive but can only watch themselves become an empty husk.

Zhao Xiao's eyes turned blood‑red, foam spilling from his mouth.

"Die!"

The black lines suddenly tightened.

Invisible blades slashed toward Zhou Ping from all directions.

Old Liang watched, his soul nearly soaring away, and a faint hope just sparked in his heart.

Won.

Zhao Ye is still Zhao Ye.

How could an A Ji trickster flip over so easily?

But the next second, that sliver of hope was trampled to pieces.

All the black lines halted three inches from Zhou Ping's surface.

A dark‑red glimmer spread silently.

Sharp Rules met that layer of light, yet they did not cut, did not shatter, nor even stir a ripple.

They were swallowed.

The black lines vanished one by one.

The invisible blades also vanished.

The skin‑peeling guest's gaping mouth got stuck in mid‑air, and its body visibly sagged.

Zhao Xiao's pupils contracted dramatically.

"Impossible."

"This is A Ji Rules!"

"On what grounds?"

Zhou Ping raised his right hand.

There was no weapon in his palm.

Only the crown's pattern extended from beneath his wrist bone, forming a dark‑red mark.

The Seven-Eyed Crown's Shadow slowly pressed down over his head.

At that moment, all the Weird patterns inside Zhao Xiao's body turned against him in unison.

Zhou Ping opened his mouth.

"Based on what you gave."

"Based on my sister lying in the life‑support cabin."

"Based on my saying that ordinary people blocking the way is a crime."

"Based on this detention center treating lives as trash."

"Is that enough?"

Zhao Xiao tried to curse.

But before the words left his mouth, his whole body suddenly arched.

A mournful, harrowing scream burst from his throat.

His chest skin bulged outward, as if something were being dragged alive from the depths of his soul.

The skin‑peeling guest also screamed miserably.

The invisible contract line between it and Zhao Xiao was clenched tightly by the dark‑red crown and pulled outward.

It was not a release.

It was plunder.

It was domination.

Zhou Ping's right hand slowly closed.

"Don't you like skinning?"

"Now it's your turn."

Zhao Xiao clutched his own chest with both hands, his nails digging out bloodstains.

"Stop!"

"Zhou Ping! Stop!"

"I can pay! I'll cover all your sister's treatment costs!"

Zhou Ping gave no reply.

The first red eye on the crown opened.

The skin‑peeling guest was forcibly ripped half out of Zhao Xiao's body.

The monster's body elongated into a strip, blood and flesh mingling with the contract into a tangled mass, emitting a discordant wail.

Zhao Xiao's power system collapsed on the spot.

The dark‑green Weird pattern faded.

The faces beneath the skin closed one after another.

His aura fell from an A Ji Deceiver back down to an ordinary human.

No.

Worse than an ordinary person.

The long‑term wielding of the Fierce Ghost's corrosive backlash made his muscles spasm, his tooth roots bleed, and he fell into the filthy water, struggling for ages without being able to get up.

Bopi Ke was completely sucked away by Wang Guan.

Within the first red eye, an extra faceless ghost silhouette hung by stitched lines appeared.

Immediately, that ghost silhouette shattered into pure dark‑red energy, surging into Zhou Ping's limbs and bones.

The wounds on Zhou Ping's body sealed even faster.

The necrotic skin peeled off.

His chest rose and fell smoothly.

He stood there, looking down at Zhao Xiu.

Zhao Xiu lifted his head, his face covered in filthy water and snot, showing no trace of a hero at all.

"Zhou Ping, don't kill me."

"My father knows people over at the North American Union; I'm listed at the Federation Strategic Assets Office."

"If you kill me, the Investigation Bureau won't let you go unpunished."

"Your sister is still in the hospital, right? I can save her, I really can!"

He crawled forward on his knees.

His forehead knocked against the cement floor.

Bang.

Bang.

"I was wrong."

"Grandpa Zhou, Brother Zhou, ancestors!"

"Let me go this once, any amount of money works. I'll give it all to you."

Zhou Ping lowered his head and stared at him.

After a long while, he asked, "My sister has woken up; do you dare to repeat those words in front of her?"

Zhao Xiu was stunned.

Zhou Ping took a step forward.

The blood and water separated.

"You don't have the courage."

"Because people like you only dare to lay down rules for those who are kneeling."

Zhao Xiu cried until his throat was torn.

"I'm not human! I'm a beast!"

"Just treat it as if you stepped on dog poop; don't get your hands dirty, okay?"

Zhou Ping reached out, grabbed his hair, and lifted him out of the filthy water.

Zhao Xiu's feet left the ground, his eyes bulged, and his throat emitted intermittent gasps.

Zhou Ping leaned close to him.

"You just said, you peeled me."

Zhao Xiu shook his head desperately.

"That's Bopi Ke's ability; I was joking, I was trying to scare you!"

Zhou Ping's finger pressed onto his shoulder.

The dark‑red rule crawled over.

"I'm not very good at it."

"Hold on a bit."

Outside the Water Prison.

The monitoring screens in the Corridor were all static.

The guard on the watchtower was still scrolling short videos when a sudden wail came from below.

The wail was so tragic that several people looked up at the same time.

"What's happening?"

"Isn't Zhao Ye in Containment Cell No. 3?"

"He couldn't have gone too far, could he?"

Someone muttered curses and grabbed a gun.

"Go take a look."

Several guards sprinted along the Corridor toward the Water Prison.

The closer they got, the more something felt wrong.

The wall was seeping blood.

It wasn't water.

It was blood.

Moreover, the blood didn't flow down; it clung to the wall and crawled toward Containment Cell No. 3.

A chewing‑like wet sound came from the crack in the door.

Old Liang's intermittent cries and wails continued.

"Don't kill me, I was only following orders."

"Zhou Ping, I didn't do that thing with your sister!"

"I'll kowtow to you, I'll be your dog!"

There was no response inside.

Only Zhao Xiao's final, garbled plea came through.

"I am a meritorious official..."

"I've saved many people..."

"You cannot..."

Before the words finished, a crisp sound of bones breaking rang out in the water cell.

A few prison guards outside felt their scalp go numb.

The leading guard swallowed, then lifted his foot to kick the door.

"Turn on the light!"

"Everyone inside, listen: hug your heads and lie down!"

The iron door was pushed open.

A blinding flashlight beam pierced the water cell.

In the light, Lao Liang lay in the corner, already so frightened he wet himself, repeatedly muttering "Don't come over."

A young guard curled at the doorway, hands clasped over his head, tears mixing with dirty water streaming down.

In the center of the water cell.

Zhao Xiao was gone.

Only a heap of unrecognizable flesh remained, an expensive wristwatch still hanging on a severed wrist, its face cracked and the second hand stuck.

Zhou Ping stepped on that pile of blood and flesh.

His tattered prison garb was soaked through with blood.

Above his head, the Seven-Eyed Crown's phantom shimmered and bobbed.

He slowly turned his head.

In the black sclera, a blaze of bloodlight burned.

The leading guard's gun began to tremble in his hand.

"Zhou Ping?"

"You... don't act recklessly."

"Surrender now, and you can still follow procedure."

Zhou Ping looked at him.

"Procedure?"

He let out a low laugh.

"Even the Black Pool has a procedure?"

The leading guard's forehead broke into sweat, forcing himself to say, "Fire!"

Flames spewed from the muzzle.

Bullets slammed into the water cell.

However, every bullet halted three inches before Zhou Ping, swallowed by a dim crimson glow, leaving no projectile behind.

Zhou Ping lifted his foot and stepped down from the pile.

The water's surface rippled with blood patterns.

A few guards at the doorway retreated several steps.

Someone turned to flee, only to find a dark red iron grate had mysteriously dropped at the far end of the Corridor.

The escape route was cut off.

Zhou Ping looked up, and the Seven-Eyed Crown opened all at once.

His voice was hoarse, yet clear enough for everyone to hear.

"Tonight."

"Those with privileges, none of them can escape."

At the same time.

Thousands of miles away, in the Qiu Ce Yuan medical room.

Outside the window, the night was calm; occasional sounds of a nurse pushing a cart echoed in the Corridor.

Chu Che sat behind his desk, signing a student health examination report.

The fountain pen glided across the paper, its strokes clean and almost compulsively perfect.

The computer screen on the desk corner had no software running.

Yet the eyes behind the lenses reflected the blood‑stained scene inside the Black Pool water cell.

Zhou Ping stood in the blood‑filled water.

The crown began to grow.

Chu Che lifted his hand to adjust his gold‑trimmed glasses, his demeanor as gentle as if he had just completed a highly successful surgery.

"Well done."

"Begin spreading your virus."

He closed the report and snapped the pen cap shut.

The movements were gentle, professional, and elegant.