"Don't come any closer!"
Xiang Ying, her once sweet and innocent face twisted in terror, sat paralyzed in the filthy sewage. Her scalp tingled, her feet numb with fear. In desperation, she clawed at the garbage around her, flinging handfuls of it wildly toward the figure approaching from the shadows.
The young monk lay slumped against the wall, prayer beads shattered and strewn across the ground. Half of his head had been torn away—blood mingled with sewage in a gruesome pool.
The Daoist boy lay sprawled on the floor, his body savaged by vicious bites. His voice was a mere whisper: "Help me… someone… please help me…"
Tap. Tap.
Heavy, muffled footsteps echoed through the darkness.
A dog-like creature emerged from the shadows, swathed in a faint black mist. Its jagged fangs glistened, crooked and cruel, and thick saliva dripped with a sickening plop to the ground.
Half a peachwood sword jutted from its back.
The battle had been fierce. But this demon-hound—this Feral Cur—was cunning, using the cover of darkness to strike like a phantom, never engaging head-on, always ambushing from the gloom.
Evil entities had intelligence.
Some species rivaled human intellect, especially canines.
The Feral Cur stalked toward Xiang Ying, each step deliberate, predatory.
And for the helpless little girl—once so brave, now shivering in sewage—it was the end of a nightmare she never should have chased. Watching her companions fall one by one had shattered her spirit.
Woof.
Even as a demonic entity, it was still a dog. Its bark was unmistakably… canine.
Suddenly—
A figure lunged from the shadows.
The Mount Mao boy tackled the creature to the ground, arms locking tight around its throat. Veins bulged on his face as he screamed upward, voice hoarse and desperate:
"Xiang Ying, run! Run now! I'll hold it off! Remember my name—I'm Xiao Mao! I… I lo—"
But Xiang Ying had already turned, scrambling through the muck, crawling and stumbling toward the light. She never heard him. She couldn't afford to.
I don't want to die here…
I want to go home and be a good girl.
I don't want to join a special division. I can't protect anyone—I need someone to protect me.
The Feral Cur thrashed violently, trying to fling the boy off.
But Xiao Mao—driven by desperate devotion—clung on with strength he'd never known. He would not let go.
Not even if his arms were burned to cinders.
He bit his finger, drew a bloody sigil on the beast's skull, and chanted:
"Heaven above, Earth below—Nine Seals aligned. Let this stroke fall: may all wickedness yield before it…"
Bang!
The demon slammed the boy against the wall with bone-crushing force.
Splurt!
A burst of blood escaped Xiao Mao's lips. His arms slackened, body crumpling as he slid to the ground.
The Feral Cur growled and descended, ripping into the boy's broken form.
"Falling petals long to follow the stream; but the stream has no love for the bloom…"
"They were right," Xiao Mao thought, strangely calm, "I really was just a pathetic simp…"
With trembling fingers, he completed the final stroke of his talisman.
"Perish."
A golden sigil materialized from thin air and struck the beast. A deafening explosion shook the tunnel. Fur singed, flesh torn, the demon shrieked in agony and writhed on the ground.
Far ahead—
Tears and snot mingled as Xiang Ying sobbed her way forward.
She wanted to live.
She had to escape this nightmare.
Sunlight streamed down through a sewer grate ahead. Her heart surged with hope.
The exit. Safety. Freedom.
She scrambled up the ladder, slipping on her soaked shoes, terrified the demon might still be behind her.
She reached for the opening, almost free—
Slip.
A sharp cry echoed as her foot slid.
She tumbled.
Thud.
A crisp, painful landing.
"My foot… it hurts so much…"
The drop was only three meters, but the twisted ankle sent waves of pain coursing through her. She had never known real suffering.
In her elite academy, the senior boys pampered her, junior students adored her. The world had always seemed beautiful.
She had never imagined reality could be so cruel.
"I want to live… I have to get out of this hell…"
She reached once more for the ladder.
Then she froze.
Her spine went cold.
Something was behind her.
Slowly, trembling, she turned her head.
She couldn't make out what it was.
A scream.
She was dragged into the darkness.
"No—!"
Her fingers reached toward the sunlight.
But it was futile.
Darkness swallowed her whole.
No…
A loli… gone… A tragedy for all mankind.
Gurgle.
"I'm starving, Old Zhang…"
Lin Fan clutched his growling belly. The cultivation had felt blissful—but now he was ravenous.
Old Zhang, still squatting and watching the ant parade, checked his watch. "It's only 10:30. Half an hour until lunch. Try to hold on."
"I'm really hungry… So, so hungry…"
He had never felt such hunger before—an all-consuming urge to eat anything.
Old Zhang scratched his head, unsure how to help.
Then, inspiration struck. He eyed the busy ants.
"I've got it! Ants are edible! I saw it on TV—something called 'Ants Climbing a Tree.' Don't worry, I'll try one first."
He carefully pinched a tiny ant. So small—easy to lose.
Ah—
He opened his mouth, dropped the ant in.
"How is it?" Lin Fan asked eagerly.
Old Zhang chewed thoughtfully, then sighed. "Nothing. No flavor at all. I couldn't even bite it…"
Just then—
A voice called out from the courtyard:
"Lunch time! Everyone gather up! Wake the ones still sleeping—it's going to rain!"
"Food!" Lin Fan's eyes lit up. He grabbed Old Zhang's hand and ran for the line.
"Wait!" Old Zhang cried. "One last ant! He's almost done moving—just one more!"
But alas, his wish would go unfulfilled.
Cafeteria.
Lin Fan sat upright, hands folded neatly on the table, posture perfect—just like he'd been taught in school.
Each table had a staff member overseeing it.
Their job was stressful. They weren't allowed to hit or scold patients. They had to exercise patience.
That was Director Hao's rule.
He had studied countless cases of patients attacking caregivers and found one common thread: those caregivers had harbored contempt. They scolded and beat the patients, worsening their condition, until tragedy struck.
"Everyone sit nicely, okay? Whoever behaves gets an extra chicken leg," said one of the female orderlies gently. Her voice was soft, filled with maternal kindness.
She was a woman of great compassion. She didn't discriminate—she treated each patient with warmth, listening even when they spoke nonsense.
Others might hear madness.
But she heard pain.
A pain no one else could understand.
Like—
"I'm hungry," said Lin Fan.
Such a simple request.
How could it go unanswered?
(End of Chapter)