Chapter 695: Heartbreak is always a part of growing up
The corridor was filled with a heavy stench of blood, and the walls were splattered with fresh, spotted bloodstains, all indicating that a fierce battle had occurred here.
Qi Qian stood up. His blood-stained black leather boots stepped over the pale corpses lying horizontally on the floor.
Not far away, An Xin lowered his head, casually adjusting his slightly messy sleeves. It was quite obvious that everything that had just happened was part of their plan.
Qi Qian raised his eyes and looked at the three men standing not far away. His tone remained as calm as ever: “Thank you.”
“No need.” Chen Mo shook his head and replied coldly.
Qi Qian needed to purge the forces of others from his team, and they equally needed the Dark Fire squad to not intervene and hunt them down. For both sides, this was a mutually beneficial cooperation.
“What’s next? What are you planning to do?” Chen Mo asked.
“Wait for the instance to end,” Qi Qian narrowed his eyes and answered. “The real work will only begin after we leave the instance.”
This mission was too critical; everyone who managed to enter this instance was an elite from the various factions of Dark Fire. Once they were all purged, the road ahead would be cleared, and the remaining people would pose no threat, just waiting for him to settle accounts with them one by one.
“What about your President?” Chen Mo continued to ask.
“Ye Lin?” Qi Qian seemed to chuckle, but there wasn’t much amusement deep within those eyes that still held lingering, bloody hostility. “He won’t know about any of this.”
He shrugged and added, “Of course, even if he did know, I highly doubt he’d react to it.”
The Dark Fire Guild had always had numerous factions and intense struggles, with countless life-and-death situations. Yet Ye Lin turned a blind eye to it all—on one hand, he rarely interfered with the guild’s internal management to begin with; on the other hand, this beast-like state of baring fangs at each other probably suited his personality, otherwise he wouldn’t have created such a guild.
“However, if you wanted to ask if I would oppose him, you’re probably going to be disappointed.”
“I don’t have any such thoughts.”
Cooperating with the guild under Pinocchio, who was currently in deep waters, wasn’t because Qi Qian had suddenly lost his mind. On the contrary, he was perfectly sober—making this choice was simply because it was more advantageous to him.
The price of making an enemy out of a top three ranker in Nightmare was too high; it wasn’t something he could afford.
Furthermore, Ye Lin had long ceased managing Dark Fire. Qi Qian only needed to purge the other factions to become the actual manager of the guild.
“—At least for now, anyway,”
Qi Qian added.
“…” Chen Mo stared intently at Qi Qian without saying a word for a few seconds. Finally, the first smile since the battle ended brushed across his lips. “You truly were born to be a part of Dark Fire.”
Submitting to the strong while never giving up on coveting the superior’s throat. The moment the other exposed an undue weakness, he would launch a fatal strike without hesitation.
Beneath the superficial sobriety and rationality lay a fire of ambition that would never extinguish.
Suddenly, Qi Qian seemed to remember something, and he spoke:
“Speaking of which, your President is currently—”
Before he could finish his sentence, Blond, who was standing not far away, abruptly raised his eyes without any warning. His blood-dyed pupils stared into the void, as if catching sight of something. He suddenly took a step forward, raising his voice: “Wait, there’s something—someone—trying to escape.”
“…What?!”
Hearing this, Qi Qian was startled and whipped his head around.
No one should have been able to survive the massacre just now, unless…
Seemingly associating it with a rather bad possibility, Qi Qian’s expression instantly darkened. He fiercely stepped forward, splashing fresh blood underfoot, and ordered coldly: “Stop him, leave no survivors!”
Otherwise, the negative impact it would bring would be incalculable.
An Xin’s face was as dark as water. He raised his hand and drew his bow at top speed, golden light shining between his fingers, carrying a blood-sealing, lethal cold glint: “Where?”
“O-over by the right—” Among everyone present, Blond was the only one who could see its existence. His eyes were locked tightly on the air, trying to discern its position while guiding the direction of An Xin’s arrow, sweating anxiously from his forehead. “No, wait, it went to the left again—”
In his red-tinted field of vision, the void, floating shadow seemed to also know where the threat was coming from. It constantly changed its position, fleeing into the distance at top speed.
An Xin drew his bowstring fully and shouted sternly, “Exact location!”
“I can’t…!” Blond gritted his teeth, his pupils practically dripping crimson.
“There’s no way—! Its position changes too fast, it’s about to escape—”
Amidst the chaos, suddenly, the bright lights from moments ago dimmed. A horrifying, bone-chilling sense of oppression bore down on them. Almost at the exact same moment, everyone jerked their heads up and looked towards the end of the corridor.
Footsteps came from that direction.
Leading the way was a figure they were incredibly familiar with.
Seeing this, a trace of pleasant surprise couldn’t help but flash in Qi Qian’s eyes. He subconsciously stepped forward and called out: “Pinoc—”
However, before he could finish his sentence, his attention was diverted by the person next to Wen Jianyan.
A tall man with black hair and golden eyes. His pale five fingers were loosely cupped together. Within his palm, there seemed to be some phantom shadow thrashing about and struggling madly, but no matter what, it couldn’t break free from the cage between the man’s fingers.
This was someone who, once seen, could absolutely never be erased from one’s mind.
He withdrew his gaze from the phantom in his palm, raised his head, and fixed his eyes on Qi Qian, asking.
“Yours?”
His tone was breezy, as if what he had just caught wasn’t a piece of a human soul, but some ordinary object.
“…Yeah, more or less,” Qi Qian said. “This guy hid his life-saving item too deeply. If it weren’t for Yang Fan’s reminder, I would have nearly been fooled.”
“So,” the other withdrew his gaze, “kill it, right?”
“Yes,” Qi Qian said.
Before his voice could even fall, he saw the other’s fingers simply squeeze together gently.
The next second, the phantom vanished, leaving not a trace behind.
It truly was no different from crushing a flying bug.
“…” Even Qi Qian, who was long accustomed to slaughter, couldn’t help but be slightly stunned at the sight. However, he quickly recovered, his face restoring its usual calmness and decency. “Yes, thank you very much.”
Looking at Wen Jianyan, whom he hadn’t seen in a long time, An Xin couldn’t help but reveal some pleasant surprise. He took a step forward: “Wen Wen—”
He hadn’t even finished his sentence before Qi Qian grabbed him and yanked him back forcefully.
“What?”
An Xin tried to break free from Qi Qian’s hand with some dissatisfaction, but the other’s fingers were like iron bands, firmly gripping him and not letting go.
Qi Qian offered an impassive smile to the gazes of the others, merely lowering his voice and squeezing out a few quite intimidating words through his teeth: “Behave yourself.”
The amplitude of their movements was tiny, and aside from each other, no one else seemed to have noticed.
Wen Jianyan stepped forward, his gaze landing on Chen Mo’s group of three, quickly looking them up and down:
“Are any of you injured?”
“Nah, just a small scratch.” Ji Guan raised his hand to touch his neck, then casually showed his palm to Wen Jianyan. “Look, it’s not even bleeding anymore.”
The members of Dark Fire were formidable and fierce, but also equally arrogant. Only when the enemy’s most deterrent unit was eliminated, and their side held all the advantages and prepared to begin the slaughter, would they produce a momentary slight. And this tiny oversight had also tolled the death knell for them.
“Right, where is Bai Xue?” Chen Mo asked urgently. “Did you find him?”
“Mm.”
Wen Jianyan tilted his head and pointed backward.
“There, following behind.”
Following Wen Jianyan’s direction, the few of them immediately looked behind him.
Bai Xue was standing silently not far away. He had always been accustomed to keeping a distance from the crowd, even while traveling. His presence was already low, and suppressed by the darkness Wu Zhu brought, almost no one had noticed that there was actually a little white tail following behind Wen Jianyan.
Being called out by name now, Bai Xue seemed to hesitate for a moment before cautiously inching forward step by step.
“Thank goodness,” Blond sighed in relief, revealing an expression as if a heavy burden had been lifted. “It really scared people to death when we couldn’t get in touch earlier…”
“Although you are in the top ten of Nightmare, and your methods and abilities far exceed ordinary people,” Chen Mo frowned slightly, looking at Bai Xue not far away. Although his tone remained respectful, there was hidden reproach in his words, “Even so, you should value the advice you yourself gave before entering the instance.”
“Exactly!” Ji Guan chimed in heavily, his concerned gaze sweeping over Bai Xue’s entire body. “I remember that ghost th—guy—saying you were injured and bleeding. Where? Is it serious? Let me see?”
Bai Xue was instantly heavily surrounded. Somewhat at a loss, he turned his head to look at Wen Jianyan.
It was as if someone had yanked him right into the crowd. All at once, the passionate sunlight of the entire world seemed to pour down on him. Silhouettes crowded around him. This time, every face was so clear, making him flustered and overwhelmed.
Wen Jianyan blinked mischievously at him.
Then, he turned around and walked towards Qi Qian and An Xin not far away. Although no one had temporarily explained what exactly had happened during the time he was gone, based on what he was seeing now, Wen Jianyan had basically guessed eighty or ninety percent of it. But what he didn’t expect was that, aside from speaking up once at the very beginning, these two hadn’t said anything else, but had been staying not far away exchanging words in low voices.
—Strange, what exactly are those two talking about?
“…Anyway, stay away from Pinocchio from now on,” Qi Qian frowned at An Xin and warned. “Understand?”
“Ah? What’s going on?” An Xin looked completely baffled. “Why?”
Looking at this dense blockhead in front of him, Qi Qian only felt a wave of frustration.
Although he had only seen that “person” for the first time at the Orphanage, after leaving the instance, he had more or less heard some rumors from others. These rumors were half-true, half-false, a mix of reality and fiction. Even though Qi Qian didn’t completely take these things as truth, regardless, it was an established fact that Pinocchio was accompanied by a mysterious, powerful non-human. Since that day, Qi Qian had been dropping hints, trying to get An Xin not to get too close to Pinocchio, but this guy had actually never caught onto his hints once.
Qi Qian finally couldn’t stand it anymore and decided to spell it out clearly: “He already has a partner!”
An Xin was greatly shocked: “What? Who?”
Qi Qian: “The one following beside him.”
An Xin: “Ah?” He turned his head with a suspicious face, his gaze sweeping over Wu Zhu standing next to Wen Jianyan: “Hm? Aren’t they allies?”
Qi Qian: “…………”
I am truly defeated by you, you idiot.
Having stayed in a high position in Dark Fire for a long time, he naturally had a set of eyes for reading people.
Last time, the contact duration was too short, making it hard to judge. But this time, just based on the flashes in that guy’s eyes when his gaze occasionally swept over Pinocchio, and the occasional friction between their shoulders and arms when moving, it was enough to prove that the relationship between the two was absolutely significant—and this “significance” was definitely not one-sided.
Pinocchio, although usually smiling at everyone and seemingly very gentle, Qi Qian knew that his mental defenses were extremely high, and his thoughts were extremely deep. As long as he wanted to, no one could see through his thoughts. Even when he made people feel closest to him, he would maintain a very subtle social distance. However, when acting alongside that guy, this feeling seemed to completely vanish.
Even though the two hadn’t spoken to each other since appearing, and rarely even made eye contact, that unspeakable, nearly intimate atmosphere simply filled the space around them, making it impossible for others to intervene.
Although Pinocchio had deep thoughts, he always maintained a bottom line and advanced and retreated properly. Qi Qian had always felt very reassured about him. But… it was hard to say for that non-human following beside him.
Looking at how he had just handled the aftermath…
Even though Qi Qian had seen plenty of cruel scenes in Nightmare, that scene was still enough to make his blood run cold.
If only for the sake of his own stupid child’s little life, he had to make him recognize reality.
While Qi Qian was racking his brains on how to make An Xin accept reality, Wen Jianyan had already walked over from not far away.
Seeing the other approach, An Xin cast him aside and waved brightly at the other:
“Wen Wen, long time no see!”
“Indeed, long time no see.” Wen Jianyan nodded, revealing a polite, faint smile.
Now, Qi Qian had to swallow all the words he hadn’t yet spoken. But, just as he was thinking about when to find a time to have a detailed talk with An Xin later, the other’s carefree and relaxed voice rang by his ear:
“Haha, speaking of which, do you know what the captain just told me? He actually said you and your ally are a couple!”
Qi Qian: “……………………”
He closed his eyes, his heart dead as ashes.
“Don’t you think it’s interesting? —Ouch!” An Xin grimaced, turned around, and looked weirdly at the livid Qi Qian behind him. “Captain, why did you kick me?”
Qi Qian’s expression was twisted, just as he was about to blow his top, but the next second, the young man’s breezy voice sounded from the front:
“Oh… that.”
“He’s right.” The tone was so relaxed and casual that it made it almost difficult to realize exactly what kind of blockbuster bomb he had just dropped.
Now, it was An Xin’s turn to be dumbfounded.
“Ah?”
He turned his head, his gaze landing on Wen Jianyan, sweeping over him and the man beside him in disbelief.
“What?”
“Wait,” An Xin looked shocked, stammering, “But, but didn’t you say before that you didn’t like men?”
“Mm?” Wen Jianyan froze for a moment, seeming to just remember the excuse he had used to reject An Xin. He nodded casually and said, “Oh, that. I really don’t like them.”
“But,” An Xin turned his head, his unbelievable gaze sweeping over Wu Zhu’s entire body—no matter what angle you looked from, the other was a bona fide male, “But isn’t he—”
“He…” Wen Jianyan’s eyes flickered, saying,
“He’s different.”
An Xin: “…”
This answer was simply an absolute critical hit.
He stood frozen in place, his expression blank, unable to recover his senses for a long time.
Wen Jianyan turned his head to look at Qi Qian beside him, saying, “Chen Mo should have already told you about our situation here, right?”
Qi Qian took a deep breath: “More or less.”
“Next, we are planning to go find the others. The danger level is very high. I suggest it’s best if you don’t come along, otherwise, it would be troublesome if Nightmare judges you to be on our side as well,” Wen Jianyan said.
“Okay, I understand.” Qi Qian glanced at An Xin next to him, who still had a blank look on his face, and said with a double meaning, “Anyway, thanks.”
Wen Jianyan waved goodbye to Qi Qian and An Xin, then turned and walked into the distance.
Behind them, Qi Qian sighed and patted An Xin’s shoulder: “Alright, let’s go.”
Wen Jianyan was right. Right now, they weren’t just the target of everyone, but a thorn in Nightmare’s side. Even though Qi Qian still didn’t completely understand what exactly they were trying to do, there was one thing he was very clear on: that was absolutely not a battle they could participate in.
Before turning around, he paused his steps:
“Ah, right, this—”
He moved his fingertips, and a brand new paper bird appeared in his palm.
Although they didn’t plan on traveling together next, just in case, it was still important for both sides to leave some means of contact that wouldn’t be interfered with by Nightmare.
An Xin volunteered: “I’ll go give it to them.”
“…” Qi Qian stared at him suspiciously. “You’re not going to—”
“I won’t.”
An Xin sighed,
“What can I do? Heartbreak is always a part of life.”
“Just going to say a final hello.” An Xin said, “Saying goodbye.”
Qi Qian looked at him and handed the paper bird to him: “Fine.”
An Xin took the paper bird, and as he turned around, the light had already restored in his eyes.
Saying goodbye? That was just an excuse. For those of them risking their lives in Nightmare, life and death were already put aside, let alone those flimsy moral bottom lines.
One piece of information could be extracted from this: Didn’t Pinocchio not object to finding a boyfriend?
Then what if they broke up one day? Wouldn’t his chance come then!
The corners of An Xin’s mouth curled up as he searched around for Wen Jianyan’s figure. Soon, his gaze locked on a spot not far away.
The young man had his back turned to him, saying something in a low voice to the man in front of him who was much taller. The dim light spilled down from above, covering the two of them like a veil of mist.
“…”
An Xin suddenly halted his steps.
At this moment, he seemed to vaguely understand what Qi Qian had meant just now—there indeed seemed to exist a certain atmosphere between those two that made it impossible for anyone to intervene.
Just as he was lost in a daze, he saw the young man not far away seemingly sigh lightly.
He leaned in, raised his head, and pecked the lips of the person in front of him.
The black-haired man lowered his head. A large, pale hand pressed against the back of the young man, locking him firmly in his embrace, unscrupulously deepening what should have just been a touch-and-go kiss.
Even being kissed so aggressively and forcefully, the person in his arms showed not a hint of resistance. He raised his head, his fingers tugging at the other’s collar, responding gently.
Over the top of his head, a pair of golden eyes lifted and looked over. They were dark and heavy, like flowing molten gold, seeming to be both mocking and threatening.
As if saying—
Mine.
Not far away, the few who had been constantly paying attention to the movements over here shook violently, as if struck by lightning.
At that moment, the expressions on their faces seemed no better than An Xin’s.
“?” Bai Xue blinked uncomprehendingly, seemingly very confused as to why the several people in front of him suddenly stopped talking at the same time. Thus, he slightly tilted his head, wanting to look past Chen Mo’s side towards the distance, trying to figure out what exactly was happening over there.
The few of them collectively jerked, and the next second, as if they had realized something, they unanimously huddled towards the middle, completely blocking that narrow gap tight.
“Is something wrong?” Looking at the wall of people in front of him, the young boy looked bewildered.
Blond: “N-no, nothing happened.”
Ji Guan: “Yes, nothing happened.”
“Mm,” looking at the other’s pure, innocent eyes, Chen Mo squeezed out a smile. “Anyway… some things are better for you to know later.”
An Xin shoved the paper bird to Chen Mo, turned around, and left like a lost soul.
Not far away.
Wen Jianyan’s breathing was unsteady. His palm pressed against Wu Zhu’s shoulder. No matter how calm and unfazed he appeared on the surface, the tips of his ears were completely red. He lifted his head, his still water-glistening eyes sweeping lightly over the other, his voice somewhat hoarse:
“…Satisfied?”
He naturally guessed Wu Zhu’s intention, but still indulged the other to do so.
Because, from the moment An Xin tried to greet him earlier, Wu Zhu was already on the verge of some kind of eruption. Being the closest to him, Wen Jianyan could naturally feel this most intuitively. As time passed, Wu Zhu’s air pressure dropped bit by bit, and the look in his eyes when viewing people became colder and colder. It seemed every second was pushing closer to the limit of his tolerance than the last. If he hadn’t been present, this guy might have truly acted on murderous intent.
But then again…
Wen Jianyan believed he wasn’t the type to ignore his lover’s feelings. Even though he didn’t like public displays of affection, doing it occasionally to coax his boyfriend wasn’t totally unacceptable.
Wu Zhu licked his lips, narrowing his eyes as if satiated, like a large cat that had been comfortably stroked from head to tail. He let out a contented grumble from his throat, completely losing all ferocity: “Mm.”
Glancing at the direction where An Xin had disappeared behind him, Wen Jianyan sighed helplessly.
Seeing is always more intuitive than hearing. Now, that fleeting budding thought of the other was probably finally cut off. To him, it could also be considered killing two birds with one stone.
It was just…
Wen Jianyan withdrew his gaze, subconsciously pursing his lips, only feeling that his lips and the tip of his tongue were sucked until they were swollen and numb. He couldn’t help but frown—this guy was sometimes still a bit too prone to pushing his luck, not knowing when to hold back.
…As expected, I’ll still have to discipline him properly in the future.
Wen Jianyan returned to the middle of the team.
Aside from Bai Xue, who was still completely oblivious to everything, the other three seemed to have returned to normal, but their eyes inexplicably revealed a sense of their minds wandering.
“I’ve basically explained things clearly with Qi Qian,” Wen Jianyan said. “But on our end, things are much more troublesome.”
Now, the Dark Fire squad was no longer a threat. This was indeed timely help for them, but it couldn’t solve their real crisis.
On one hand, the whereabouts of Orange Candy, Wen Ya, and Chen Cheng were still unknown, their lives uncertain. On the other hand, on this reorganized cruise ship, the location of the painting on negative floor seven was still unknown, causing the progress of severing Nightmare’s connection with the world to remain stagnant.
As soon as these words were spoken, the atmosphere that had just been considered relaxed suddenly became stagnant again.
“I tried.”
Suddenly, Bai Xue spoke up, saying.
What?
The others were all startled and turned their heads toward the direction of the voice.
The young boy lifted his pale, dull face, nearly devoid of color, making his eyes appear even more purely black. “Before I met you guys, I tried to pry into the fate of the others.”
For no apparent reason, Chen Mo’s heart jolted slightly.
He subconsciously took a step forward: “And the result?”
“I could see it,” Bai Xue said, his colorless eyelashes fluttering like feathers for a second. “But I couldn’t read it.”
Before entering the instance, it was already so complex that it was nearly impossible to pry into. After entering the instance, this had only intensified.
Countless possibilities were bound to the bodies of the few of them, massive like a chaotic sphere. Densely packed, uncountable numbers flooded within it, combining in bizarre, twisted ways to form some incomprehensible, indescribable existence. Under such a terrifying torrent of data, human sanity was as fragile as fine silk. Just one more second of staring would lead to it being crushed without suspense.
Precisely because of this, Bai Xue chose not to regroup with anyone.
In this instance, he would be of absolutely no benefit to anyone else, leaving only a curse.
Wen Jianyan listened carefully to his description and fell into deep thought.
Soon, he raised his head and asked: “So, the fates of the people in our squad are too complex and cannot be deciphered. What about the others in this instance? Are they all just as difficult?”
Bai Xue thought for a few seconds and shook his head.
“Process of elimination?” Ji Guan was startled.
“Of course not.” Wen Jianyan shook his head.
Even though the instance had lost over half its participants and fierce battles raged in many places, the number of remaining anchors was still considerable. With the cost of Bai Xue’s talent being so exorbitant, using the process of elimination would probably outweigh the gains.
Wen Jianyan looked at Bai Xue and asked:
“I want to know the movements of a anchor outside our team.”
“…Who?” Bai Xue asked.
Figaro walked cheerfully alone in the empty corridor.
He wore a smile and walked with a brisk pace. His well-tailored tailcoat hung perfectly, making his shoulders look broad and his back straight. A corner of a lake-blue pocket square ingeniously peeked out from his breast pocket, perfectly matching the color of the small round bowler hat in his hand.
He didn’t look like he was traversing a life-and-death instance, but rather as if he was heading to an upper-class banquet.
Generally, there were two kinds of people who entered this instance.
One kind came longing to kill Pinocchio and seize the tempting prize.
The other kind attempted to use this opportunity to eradicate dissidents and strike blows against competitors.
But Figaro belonged to neither.
He was the third kind of person, who wanted to simultaneously make friends, do business with the aforementioned two kinds of people, and extract the maximum possible profit from them.
However much blood was spilled on the ground, that was how much money he could squeeze out of it.
Figaro smiled, lowering his head to glance over his phone screen—he had to admit, Nightmare’s “Total Mobilization” this time suited his appetite perfectly. Who knew how many anchors harboring ulterior motives, yet possessing fat wallets, had gathered in this one instance. Each of them had their own intents and desires, fighting each other tooth and nail. The more fighting there was, the quicker the profits rolled in.
The profits from this single instance were already equal to those from at least five previous instances.
To date, Figaro had never made a loss-making deal.
Oh, wait, not entirely true.
He had fallen at the hands of Pinocchio once. However, such a thing wouldn’t happen a second time. After all, to him, the most important thing in doing business was to minimize risks—so this time, he hadn’t established any contact with that guy’s guild, and hadn’t even done business with Dark Fire—for someone like him who always liked to skim off the top from both sides, this situation was extremely rare.
Figaro carelessly scrolled down his phone list, deleting the names that had turned blank one by one.
Some people could achieve their wishes through the information he provided, and some couldn’t; this was very normal.
Suddenly, perhaps sensing something, Figaro paused his steps.
He looked up, frowning slightly, looking around.
Strange… why did his back suddenly feel a bit cold?
For someone like him who walked on a tightrope, sometimes, some inexplicable intuitions could save a life.
Everything around seemed normal.
Even so, Figaro still felt uneasy in his heart.
He looked down and opened the location tracker on his screen. All the red dots displayed on it were moving away from his direction, no different from when he looked a few minutes ago, and there was no sign of them changing positions.
…Could it be an illusion?
While carelessly pondering, Figaro put down his phone and looked up—
However, the next second, his face stiffened.
Not far away, at the end of the originally completely empty corridor, a towering, upright figure had appeared at some unknown time. The lighting, which could already be considered dim, completely annihilated around him. Endless shadows seemed to brew behind him. Just looking from afar gave one an inexplicable sense of terror.
Who was that?
Or rather… was that human?
An unprecedented sense of crisis shot up his spine. There was no longer half a relaxed look on Figaro’s face, staring intently not far ahead.
He slowly took a step back, and another step, speeding up in a highly cautious manner…
And then turned around—
“Oh my, be careful.”
His gaze slammed into a smiling, familiar face.
—Pinocchio!
Figaro’s pupils contracted.
The young man he hadn’t seen in a long time simply appeared behind him just like that, light filling his eyes, a harmless smile hanging on his lips, staring at him with smiling eyes.
“Long time no see, Boss Fei, where have you been making a fortune lately?”
“Ha, haha, no no…”
Figaro’s expression was slightly stiff. His brow twitched, and just as he was about to put on his habitual mask of a fake smile, the sound of steady, approaching footsteps came from behind simultaneously—”Tap, tap, tap.” With each knock that fell, the light in the corridor behind him seemed to dim a fraction, and the temperature in the air also dropped a fraction. The cold air brushed against his exposed skin, bringing a bone-chilling sense of oppression—the smile on Figaro’s face was having a little trouble hanging on.
He immediately pointed to the sky and swore, hastily explaining:
“I swear to God, the reason I entered the instance this time was to handle some private affairs. I absolutely did not make a move against your friends. If you don’t believe me, you can go ask those friends of yours. If I have ever opposed them even once, I will—”
Before he could finish his sentence, he was interrupted by Wen Jianyan:
“Mm, I know.”
The young man still had a smiling face: “The teammates who regrouped with me all said they haven’t seen you since entering this instance.”
However, before Figaro could breathe a sigh of relief, he heard the other continue: “But… then again.”
Figaro’s heart leaped.
“You have never relied on making enemies to gain benefits anyway, have you.”
Wen Jianyan’s eyes curved.
“Entering an instance centered around bounty hunting, yet never appearing before any side, never participating in any battle, but rather constantly wandering outside the core circle—this makes me very curious. Why did you enter here, and how are you making a profit…”
“Tell me, to how many people did you sell intelligence about my friends?”
“And how much intelligence did you sell?”
“The specific names represented by the red dots? Talents? Trump cards?”
“…………” With every extra sentence the other spoke, the footsteps behind him drew a bit closer, and a layer of sweat seeped from Figaro’s forehead.
By the time the footsteps behind him stopped, Figaro was already dripping with cold sweat.
He stiffly turned his neck and cast a glance backward.
The tall man had already stopped, his eyes flashing with a golden, ruthless light.
The moment he recognized him, Figaro’s vision went black.
That non-human “ally” who always trailed behind Pinocchio’s butt—although the other claimed they had no extra relationship, of course, this carried not much persuasive power for Figaro.
“Don’t make that kind of expression,” the young man in front of him patted his shoulder.
Figaro slowly turned his head to look at Wen Jianyan, only to see the other’s face hanging with a gentle smile he was very familiar with, which brought back many bad memories for him:
“I am a very reasonable person.”
“As long as you do me a favor, we’ll write off these matters. How about it?”
Figaro: “…”
What a familiar phrase.
What a familiar-looking debt.
