TFOF Ch97

Xijiao’s frame was thin and frail, and his pant legs had been torn somewhere along the way, leaving a long strip hanging loose.

Even from a distance, the group could recognize his signature skinny legs.

The man staggered toward them, dragging his feet as he walked.

But for some reason, something about his movements felt deeply unnatural—

It was as if his limbs were moving separately, forcefully hauling his emaciated body forward.

Yet, despite how bizarre his gait looked, he was actually moving fast—

Before anyone could react, Xijiao, with half his face dyed a deep crimson, had already lurched to a stop right in front of them.

Xijiao was clearly injured—and badly.

The blood covering his face was unsettling enough.

His eyes were wide and unblinking, but his pupils were misaligned—

His right eye had rolled upward, revealing nothing but bloodshot sclera.

Even his ankle was bent at a grotesque angle—

It had snapped completely, his foot twisted inward at a near right angle to the ground.

Something pale jutted out from his skin, possibly bone, though the mud splattered all over him made it hard to tell.

Yet, despite these horrific injuries, he had still managed to make his way back.

For the first time ever, Uncle Zhang Er felt a faint pang of guilt toward his good-for-nothing older brother.

He had, of course, noticed when Xijiao tripped earlier.

But he hadn’t cared.

Xijiao was too slow, constantly holding him back from catching their target.

Uncle Zhang Er had assumed that after falling behind, Xijiao would just give up and head back to the village.

He had thought of it as a convenient way to ditch a burden—

Never in a million years had he expected his useless brother to stubbornly drag himself back, even injured like this.

And, as always, at the worst possible time.

Now that his own group was growing restless, already looking for excuses to turn back,

Xijiao showing up covered in blood only gave them more reason to insist on leaving.

The thought irritated him.

“Damn, brother, what happened to you?”

Of course, with so many people watching, Uncle Zhang Er still had to pretend to care.

“How the hell did you end up like this? I figured you’d just gone back—one second you were there, the next you were gone—”

But before he could finish, Xijiao’s head twitched violently.

“Hhhhhh—hhhhh—”

He shook his head, throat emitting a series of disturbing, raspy noises.

His yellowed fingers trembled wildly as he raised a shaking hand,

But his outstretched fingertip never wavered—

It was pointed directly at Zhang Er.

“Hey now, come on…” Zhang Er forced out a chuckle.

“We’re brothers. You don’t actually think I left you behind on purpose, do you? I seriously didn’t notice.”

His tone wasn’t the least bit sincere.

“If you’re mad, fine, I’ll apologize. Right here, right now. ‘Sorry, big bro, didn’t mean to leave you hanging.’ Happy?”

After his sarcastic little speech, he took a step back.

And that was when—

Xijiao’s head snapped sideways—

His jaw suddenly yawned open—

And he lunged at Uncle Zhang Er.

He sank his teeth into Zhang Er’s hand.

“Fffff—FU-CK! YOU CRAZY BASTARD—!!”

Zhang Er hadn’t expected this at all.

A sharp, searing pain erupted from his palm.

Xijiao’s teeth were razor-sharp, nothing like a human’s—

They felt more like the fangs of a wild beast.

And— and his tongue was covered in something like bristles—fine and dense.

A cold sweat broke out on Zhang Er as he grabbed Xijiao’s hair and flung him off.

Only then did he look down at his injured hand.

A deep bite mark was burned into his palm, surrounded by countless tiny punctures.

It was only now that blood began to slowly seep from those small, round wounds…

But instead of pain, what he felt was itching.

An itch that spread like worms crawling beneath his skin.

Zhang Er’s eyes widened in horror.

Just as he was about to examine the wound further,

Xijiao, who had been lying motionless on the ground,

suddenly twisted into an unnatural position—

And slowly started crawling back up.

It had all happened too fast.

Everything about it was unnerving.

“What the hell is going on?!”

“Uncle Xijiao, are you okay?”

“We can talk this out, alright? Just calm down—”

…

A few villagers stepped forward to help him up.

But Xijiao reacted no differently than he had with Zhang Er—

Mouth agape, drool dripping, he lunged at them, trying to bite.

In an instant, the secluded mountain hollow was filled with screams as one wail of pain after another rang out.

“Shit—does he have rabies or something?!”

Someone shouted in panic.

Being chased down and bitten by another human was terrifying beyond words.

Any sense of loyalty was immediately forgotten—

Hoes, shovels, branches, stones—

Whatever they could grab, they used.

They beat Xijiao without hesitation.

“Let go—LET GO, DAMN IT!”

More agonized screams echoed in the night.

But no matter how fiercely they hit him,

Xijiao’s teeth remained firmly embedded in their flesh,

his bite sinking deeper and deeper.

“You crazy bastard—I’ll make you stop—I’ll make you stop biting—!”

Desperation turned to blind panic.

No one knew who did it.

All they knew was—

Someone swung a shovel and slammed it down on the back of Xijiao’s neck.

The rough, solid blade of the hoe sank deep into his flesh.

Xijiao’s body jerked violently.

A few seconds later—

Blood gushed out, dark and thick, seeping slowly from the wound.

But the man trapped beneath him still had no idea what had just happened.

He was too busy screaming and struggling—

Until, like a sack of flour,

Xijiao’s body suddenly collapsed,

falling limply onto the ground.

He lay there, face up.

And within seconds, his features began to swell.

……

For a long moment, no one spoke.

They panted, eyes wide in terror, staring at the motionless body.

Xijiao’s eyes bulged from their sockets.

Then—

His eyeballs trembled ever so slightly.

“HOLY SHIT—”

A chorus of curses erupted as everyone stumbled backward.

But, luckily—

After a brief, spasming twitch,

Xijiao let out a few unintelligible mutters,

his head lolled to the side,

and his body finally went slack.

A pool of blackened blood spread beneath him,

its stench sickening, unnatural, not human.

…

“W-what the hell just happened…?”

After what felt like an eternity, someone finally whispered in shock.

But one man was more concerned about something else.

Zhang Weiguo, a man nearing forty, was a seasoned hunter, often venturing into the mountains.

As a result, his nerves were stronger than most.

Still—

His hands shook as he held his shovel before him,

his other hand slowly reaching toward Xijiao’s nose.

A moment later—

His fingers jerked back.

His entire body sagged, collapsing onto the ground.

Slowly, he turned, his murky gaze sweeping over the others with utter despair.

“…He’s dead.”

He swallowed dryly and forced the words out.

“We… We killed someone. Again.”

---

Zhang Er’s face drained of color.

---

When Zhang Er left Fengjing Village that day, he slipped out quietly, even taking the back door.

But when he returned—

The entire village was in an uproar.

Because he had carried back Uncle Xijiao, whose entire body was covered in blood and who was completely motionless.

According to him, they had gone up the mountain to dig for mushrooms, but since Xijiao had trouble with his legs, he accidentally fell in the mountains. In the end, everyone had rushed to carry him down.

However, despite saying he was “injured,” Uncle Zhang Er did not take him to the hospital by motorcycle but instead laid Xijiao directly in the courtyard.

Not long after, within that simple and low-walled courtyard, the shrill and despairing screams of Uncle Xijiao’s wife echoed…

…It was almost like a replay of yesterday.

*

However, even as those distant cries and clamor reached his ears, Gan Tang did not look up at all.

On one hand, after knowing the true nature of Zhang Er and his group, he truly did not have the guts to wander around in front of them.

On the other hand, he had an even more pressing matter to deal with.

A severed leg.

The severed limb he had brought back from the mountain now lay quietly on the floor.

It had been sprinkled with lime, carefully wrapped in strips of newspaper, and then sealed with a layer of plastic wrap.

The faint scent of blood and decay from the corpse had diminished significantly as a result, but the shape of the human leg was still clearly visible.

“You’re not… thinking of putting it in the fridge, are you?”

Yu Huai hesitated as he watched Gan Tang methodically wrap up the limb, his face pale.

He cautiously observed Gan Tang’s expressionless face.

“…If your grandmother accidentally sees it, she might have a heart attack.”

As soon as the words fell, over ten seconds passed before he saw the boy blankly lift his head.

“No, I plan to find a place to bury it first,” Gan Tang said, his voice flat. “This leg belongs to the man Zhang Er and the others killed—Zhang Er’s wife’s younger brother. They… dismembered him.”

At this point, Gan Tang took a deep breath.

“I need to find a safe place to hide it. That way, when I call the police, there will be evidence when they arrive.”

“Oh, oh, I see.”

Yu Huai finally let out a breath of relief.

But then, he immediately heard Gan Tang continue speaking:

“…But a corpse will stink. Leaving it in my courtyard isn’t suitable. If I hide it somewhere in the village, dogs might dig it up. If I bury it in the mountains, wild animals will probably find it and eat it.”

“Huh?”

“Yu Huai… Does your fridge have any space left?”

…Yu Huai took a very, very deep breath and then slowly replied, “Sorry, I don’t have a fridge at home.”

“Oh.”

Gan Tang nodded, indicating he understood.

However, he had been unconsciously gnawing at the knuckles of his fingers the whole time, biting until the skin was raw and tinged with blood without even realizing the pain. His eyes remained fixed on the severed leg on the ground.

Gan Tang could tell that throughout their return journey and while he was wrapping up the body part, Yu Huai had stolen multiple glances at him—glances filled with probing and wariness, as if he were looking at some deranged killer.

Compared to Yu Huai, who had nearly vomited at the sight of dismembered flesh, Gan Tang also felt that his own composure seemed a bit… unnatural.

But in reality, only Gan Tang himself knew that beneath his clothes, his body had been trembling nonstop. It was as if his mind and body had completely disconnected. His hands could steadily sprinkle lime onto the newspaper, skillfully wrapping the severed limb into a neat little mummy. But inside his head, he had already been so terrified that his thoughts had gone completely blank.

He had to constantly remind himself—don’t think about it.

Don’t keep recalling the scene in the mountains.

Otherwise, he felt that he might truly break down.

Some things… some utterly horrifying things…

Thud—

Just then, Gan Tang suddenly heard a dull noise coming from inside the locked room he had personally sealed off.

“Tang, Tang Tang! Is that you? You’re back! I’ve been waiting for you! I was very good, I didn’t run around, and I didn’t scream—”

Cen Zibai’s voice came through the door, eerie and helpless.

“Tang Tang, can you come take a look at me? I’m very obedient. I did everything exactly as you told me.”

…

Gan Tang shuddered.

It was only now that he remembered—ever since he had returned home, he had been busy dealing with that little pile of dismembered flesh, and he hadn’t had the time to check on Cen Zibai’s condition.

Or rather…

It wasn’t that he hadn’t had time. Nor that he had forgotten.

He simply didn’t dare.

The moment he heard Cen Zibai’s voice, the question he had been forcefully suppressing deep within his mind—the one he absolutely refused to think about—rose uncontrollably to the surface.

Uncle Zhang Er was not dead.

After killing Zhang Er’s wife’s brother, they had merely been careless and let the corpse be seen by others in the village.

To cover it up, they staged that whole “borrowing flesh” act.

From beginning to end, he had been alive.

So then…

The person now pleading behind the door…

The boy whom he had personally dismembered, thrown into the “borrowing flesh” well, and yet had returned to him, alive—what exactly… was he?

__

Author’s Note:

It’s your hubby! ❤️