It's an illusion.
Yes.
It has to be an illusion.
"I love spicy stir-fried meat," Old Zhang said dreamily, drool leaking from the corners of his mouth. "I bet it smells amazing."
"I prefer hotpot," Lin Fan mused.
"Stir-fried is good. But braised sounds tasty too."
"Dry-pot is even better."
"Stewed with tofu—can't go wrong with that."
The two of them completely ignored the presence of the Corpse Hound, immersed in an increasingly hungry discussion about how to cook their adorable little dog. Saliva dribbled freely from their mouths, and their stomachs rumbled in a synchronized chorus of hunger.
"Too bad we don't have a pot," Old Zhang lamented.
"Or fire," Lin Fan added mournfully.
They both looked dejected. But then, as if connected by some invisible thread of thought, their gazes met and—firm, solemn, in perfect unison—they declared:
"But we can find a way."
"Hehehe…"
"Hehehe…"
They began laughing.
Meanwhile, the Corpse Hound was fuming in humiliation. Its powerful jaws, once proud and lethal, had been shattered. It struggled, but the human still had it by the scruff of its neck, pinning it effortlessly. The demon opened its mouth to let out a roar—
Only to have Lin Fan shove a fist down its throat.
Choking.
Gagging.
The demon nearly vomited.
"Shh."
"Be good, don't make a sound. If the nurses hear you, they'll catch you and lock you away. You'll never see daylight again," Lin Fan whispered gently, as if coaxing a child, even though he doubted the dog could understand a word.
The Corpse Hound trembled with rage.
I'm a Level 2 Demonic Entity! How dare you put your filthy human arm in my mouth!
But soon, it realized something terrifying—
This human's arm is too hard.
My throat... it hurts.
Despite its strength as a demon, its internal organs were delicate. It was literally being injured from the inside out.
Old Zhang, meanwhile, was rifling through drawers and boxes.
"Can't find any matches or a lighter."
"How tragic," he said, gently petting the dog. "Such a cute piece of food right in front of us, and we can't even cook it."
The Corpse Hound's round eyes widened.
They really do want to eat me?!
This is insane! I'm a demon! A monster!
Humans are supposed to flee in terror, not look at me like a piece of grilled steak!
"What are you looking at?" Old Zhang asked suddenly.
"The lightbulb," Lin Fan replied with eerie calm.
Zhang looked up too, squinting. "Makes my eyes all blurry. What's so interesting about it?"
"Do you think electricity can cook meat?" Lin Fan asked.
It was a deadly serious question.
Zhang scratched his head. He tried, truly tried, to figure it out—but his little brain couldn't produce an answer.
Lin Fan muttered, "Last time I was practicing that electrical cultivation technique, I remember my own flesh smelled amazing. If this dog trained the same way… its meat would probably smell even better."
"Let's give it a try," Zhang said eagerly.
The Corpse Hound, though intelligent and capable of understanding human language, was now completely lost.
He understood each word.
But together… none of it made sense.
"Alright, here I go."
Lin Fan stepped up onto the bed, but still couldn't reach. So he dragged a plastic chair over, stood on it, and unscrewed the flickering lightbulb. Two metal prongs, like eyes into the abyss, stared back at him.
"Need help?" Zhang offered.
"No. I got this," Lin Fan said firmly.
Then, without hesitation, he lifted the dog's body—still clutched by the scruff—and guided it toward those tiny, deadly holes.
The Corpse Hound froze.
He suddenly understood.
They're going to electrocute me!
It squirmed and twisted, trying to scream, but with Lin Fan's fist still stuffed in its mouth, it couldn't make a sound.
Inside, it screamed:
"YOU SON OF A—"
Zzzzt!
A surge of electricity crackled through the room.
The dog's fur stood on end, its body convulsed violently, smoke curled upward.
Despite being a demonic creature, the Corpse Hound had a natural fear of electricity.
Lin Fan's body twitched slightly as well.
"Whoa… way stronger than the school's electric grid."
The smell of grilled meat began to drift through the air.
The Corpse Hound was nearly dead. A powerful being—brought to the brink by a light socket and a lunatic.
"Hmm… this side's cooked already. The other side still needs some time," Lin Fan muttered with satisfaction, then turned the dog around to cook it evenly.
Zzzzt!
Sparks flashed again.
The dog's fur ignited.
But the fire only made the scent more intoxicating.
Old Zhang was nearly drooling. "That smell… heavenly."
At this point, the Corpse Hound had only a single breath left. It could smell its own flesh—and it was, indeed, delicious.
Defeated, humiliated, scorched to the bone, it roared inside its mind:
"SAVAGES!"
Elsewhere in the hospital, the hallway lights flickered violently, casting eerie shadows on the walls like a haunted house.
Tonight, the night shift belonged to Li Ang.
And tonight was the night he would vow—never again would he slack off.
As he walked the corridor…
"Ugh, what's with these lights? Flickering nonstop…" he muttered, looking up. "These electricians are so lazy. Must be a loose connection."
He dismissed it and continued patrolling, moving toward Room 666.
He remembered what had happened there last time.
No… That had to be a hallucination. He'd been working too hard. Just his mind playing tricks on him.
He just needed to check in on the patients—if they were asleep, and if their blankets had slipped off, he'd gently tuck them in.
After all… both patients were pitiful souls.
One, so young, struck down by madness.
The other, old and alone, no children, no family—abandoned to this lonely place.
"A kind heart brings good fortune," Li Ang said to himself, smiling softly as he walked toward Room 666.
Were the old man and the young one asleep yet?
(End of Chapter)