After Seth finished speaking, the dungeon fell into a heavy silence.
The image of Liu Yang’s mangled, flayed corpse before his death flashed in everyone’s minds, causing them to shudder involuntarily.
“But… but my brother will… will come to save us,” Li Zhong said hesitantly.
“Then wait for him here,” Seth said noncommittally. “And wait for him to spend his whole life cleaning up after you.”
This blue-eyed Western man seemed to possess eyes that could peer into one’s soul. His lazy remark caused Li Zhong’s face to pale instantly, and he fell silent.
“Who is his brother?” Wen Zhu asked curiously.
“Li Xian.” Yellow Bunny had woken up at some point and was standing next to Wen Zhu.
“Are you feeling better?” Wen Zhu looked at her; the Rabbit-head’s healing ability was indeed rare. “Who is Li Xian?”
Seeing Wen Zhu’s genuine confusion, Yellow Bunny cried out in shock: “Are you even a Hybrid?!”
Of course not.
“He’s the strongest ‘Abnormal’ in District F.” Yellow Bunny exaggeratedly gestured with her furry hands. “Rumor has it his combat power might be on par with a High-Level Pureblood.”
“My god,” another person overheard and gasped. “How strong must he be then!”
Wen Zhu leaned against the wall, unable to contribute to the conversation.
High-Level Pureblood? When did they start ranking them? Has the outside world developed this fast?
The bewilderment on Wen Zhu’s face was so authentic that even Seth spared him a glance, scoffing: “No matter how strong, he’s still just one man.”
Li Xian’s name had been famous long before District F fell into a war zone. Both the Human Bases and the Specter Kingdom had extended olive branches to him, but the man was a ghost, rarely seen by anyone. If Li Zhong hadn’t been locked in this cell with them, no one would have known he had a brother who was also an Abnormal.
Seth never pinned his hopes on others. He laid down the law impatiently: “The choice is yours. Those willing to leave come with us tonight; those who aren’t, keep your mouths shut.”
They waited until midnight. After the guards finished several rounds and saw that the “Abnormals” had settled down—thanks to the earlier execution—they went off to drink, satisfied.
The cell was quiet. These people hadn’t slept in two days; their faces were etched with fatigue, but their nerves were electric with adrenaline.
The moon rose.
Desolate moonlight washed over the magnificent walls of “Paradise.” Legend had it that this structure was designed by a famous European architect, though the architect clearly catered to a “down-market” clientele—the aesthetic of structural beauty was secondary to the overt display of wealth and power.
But today, someone had used crude methods to force a small, harmless hole into this priceless building.
As the smoke cleared—
“No wonder they dared to bomb the city so brazenly,” Liao Xin’s face was grim as he gritted his teeth. “This hellhole really is a massive Nest!”
“Liao Xin, what are the odds of taking ‘Paradise’?” a steady voice asked through the earpiece from HQ.
“Fifteen percent.”
“I’ll dispatch another squad to you.”
“Still fifteen percent.”
“Liao Xin, what are you saying!”
“Sir, if we imprisoned every Specter here, they’d fill an entire Special-Grade Max Security block,” Liao Xin said, finding it absurd. “Armed mercenaries are everywhere, and that’s not even counting the guests arriving from the Specter Kingdom for the auction.”
There was a long silence on the other end, followed by a faint sound, and then a deep voice cut in.
“Tang San, what’s the situation?”
It was Quan Qi.
“General, it’s just as Deputy Liao said.” Tang San’s expression was equally grim.
The design and scale of “Paradise” were beyond belief. During their infiltration, they had even spotted several familiar faces from the international stage! As experienced frontline operatives, they remained steady, waiting for orders from above.
For the next half hour, the officers heard muffled arguments over the comms, but as soldiers, they kept their heads down and remained silent.
“…Pei Qingshan…” “Crystal No. 1… won’t work…” “…Controllable…”
The three-hour-long emergency meeting finally concluded with one sentence: “Pei Qingshan has arrived.”
Regardless of their faction, everyone present felt a collective sense of relief. Unfortunately, they relaxed too early—
“Let me see, what lovely little things have crawled into my little Paradise?”
Two ghostly figures appeared at the corner. The leader waved lightly, as if offering a friendly greeting.
“Who’s there!”
The next moment—
“AAAH!” “…What is this?”
Several screams rang out as members of Liao Xin’s team were suddenly engulfed in strange flames—flames strikingly similar to those encountered back in Linjing.
He and Tang San reacted instantly, firing several shots at the figures in the shadows. The bullets were deflected by the erupting fire.
Suddenly, a strange woody fragrance filled the air. Liao Xin’s internal alarm blared: “Not good! Careful! Cover your nose and mouth!”
The weird woody scent was coming from the men who were self-immolating. The heat of the fire accelerated its spread. Many were a step too late; dark, necrotic wounds began to spread from their necks, spotting their skin.
Those team members began to scratch themselves neurotically, ignoring the fact that their wounds were festering into black-red pulp. Their tough skin tore like paper, their fingernails instantly clogged with bloody meat.
Seeing the situation turn dire, Liao Xin rolled to the side. Under Tang San’s cover, he accurately put a bullet into the shoulder of the lead Specter.
A muffled groan followed, and the attack faltered for a second.
Taking the opportunity, the remaining team members grabbed the injured and retreated behind cover.
It was lucky they moved fast—a second later, a violent explosion of fire erupted from the ground, collapsing the entire section. Even at a distance, the heat wave slammed into them.
The bloody hole left by the energy gun wouldn’t stop bleeding. Intense pain radiated from his shoulder as Noah hissed through his teeth: “Rats! Filthy rats!”
A soft sigh came from behind him. A hand slowly rested on his injured shoulder and pressed down: “Noah, you underestimated the enemy.”
When the loud boom echoed, Wen Zhu was following Seth and the others through a pitch-black corridor. Head overhead, the ceiling began to shake, raining dust and debris.
“What was that?”
Li Zhong, coughing from the dust, grabbed Yellow Bunny’s hand in terror, accidentally brushing against the fabric wrapped around her wrist—scraps taken from the corpse of the brown bear left in the cell.
“Don’t get distracted, watch your feet,” Seth’s steady voice rang out. The group adjusted and continued to feel their way forward.
The dungeon was much larger than they had imagined, but most cells were empty, though occasional dark stains—likely blood—were visible on the floor.
They pushed past the creeping dread and kept moving. They couldn’t see the exit; they relied on the weak overhead lights to see barely a meter ahead.
“Doing okay?” Seth glanced at Wen Zhu. His face was pale—though it had been that way since the start.
“If I said ‘no,’ would you stop?” Wen Zhu asked.
“Of course not.” Perhaps because the situation was so “do or die,” Seth was actually being honest for once.
Deprived of visual input, Seth felt the sensations on his back growing stronger. An itch, manageable but persistent, began to override the pain in his right leg. He pushed the weird feeling down and kept dragging his injured leg for twenty minutes—or maybe forty. Time had no meaning in this lightless hole.
Estimating they had moved out of the patrol range, Seth finally led the exhausted group to a halt for a rest.
“Wen… Wen Bai, are we almost out?” Li Zhong panted against the wall. He was too afraid to talk to Seth, so he turned to “Wen Bai,” who looked remarkably calm.
As a cat, Li Zhong’s night vision was excellent; every step revealed more gruesome details of their surroundings.
“Hard to say. There are too many forks in the road.” Wen Zhu had a guess about the structure. Based on the earlier explosion, they were likely on the bottom floor of a massive building.
Li Zhong, resting against the wall, suddenly felt something. The fur on his body stood on end. He froze, eyes wide with horror, his voice trembling: “I… I think there’s… something moving behind me…”
Rustle, rustle…
It sounded like a rat! He hated rats!
The group instantly went on high alert. Seth frowned, yanked Li Zhong back, and squinted at that spot on the wall.
It wasn’t just a wall; a door was seamlessly embedded into it. He could feel a faint draft coming from the gaps in the shadows. Looking down, Seth’s expression grew grimmer as he spotted a hidden handle.
It was a door. What was inside?
In a place this evil, a hidden room couldn’t be anything good. Better to ignore it and—
Creeeeeak.
The door was pushed open.
Seth turned to look at the “timid” snake-man beside him. Wen Zhu offered him a gentle smile.
“…”
You motherf—
Seth didn’t even have time to curse. He grabbed Wen Zhu and yanked him back. In the next instant, several tentacles coiled into a semi-cocoon shape, shielding them.
“Beautifully grown.”
Sharp, cold snake scales lightly brushed the suckers of the tentacles. Wen Zhu offered a word of praise for the “lush” growth.
Seth finally realized it: his once-stubby, juvenile tentacles had grown enough to wrap around several people!
But now was not the time for surprises. Seeing no attack, Seth retracted the tentacles. Inside was… a torture chamber.
The pungent smell of blood finally hit them. Yellow Bunny and Li Zhong couldn’t hold it back; they leaned against the wall, gagging.
In the center of the room, a body of unknown status hung limply from the ceiling. Seth frowned, sensing something off—this gut feeling had saved him from death’s blade countless times.
But before he could speak, the snake tail beside him was already in “action” mode.
Wen Zhu couldn’t see the face of the only person still breathing in the room, but he recognized the pendant hanging from a red string around the man’s neck.
“Zhou Sui?”
The pain of the wounds on Zhou Sui’s body had gone numb. He had been drifting in and out of consciousness between bouts of heat and cold, his senses failing. Then, in the deathly, damp darkness, a faint voice sounded—ethereal and hard to catch.
“Zhou Sui? Wake up—Seth, come help me.”
“Why?”
“We’re taking him with us.”
“Are you some kind of saint? Taking him along?” Seth smiled coldly. “I think you should choose to stay here with him instead.”
During the standoff, the poor soul hanging there finally stirred. Zhou Sui’s last shred of consciousness caught that ethereal voice. Why did it sound so familiar?
He felt something cold press against the back of his numb neck—what was that?
He forced his eyes open.
Wen Zhu had managed to get him down. As soon as he woke up, the man’s face was covered in tears.
“Professor… Professor, why… why is it you… Am I dying… I get to see you one last time before I go…”
The once sunny, handsome college student was covered in horrific wounds, though his face was mostly intact. He looked like a pathetic, weak Golden Retriever with red, watery eyes.
Seth’s expression changed. He looked at Zhou Sui’s tear-streaked face and raised an eyebrow: “You know him?”
“Let’s take him. Saving one more can’t hurt,” Yellow Bunny added weakly, playing her “Good Bunny” card.
Li Zhong said, “I’m with Yellow Bunny.”
“Dammit,” Seth laughed in frustration. “Who’s playing a voting game with you? I call the shots here.”
“Do me a favor. Take him with us.”
The beautiful snake-man struggled to support the large student while looking up at Seth, the silver-white scales near his brow trembling slightly. Seth stared coldly for a moment, then gave a disdainful snort.
Wen Zhu took it as a “yes” and turned to Zhou Sui: “Can you walk?”
He couldn’t tell how many injuries Zhou Sui had, but the boy whimpered at every touch. Wen Zhu had to support him.
Zhou Sui, recovered from the shock of joy, felt the cold touch of the snake tail on the back of his hand. “Professor, how are you…”
“We’ll talk when we’re out.”
Zhou Sui shut his mouth obediently.
“Professor… You’re actually a teacher?” Seth glanced at them. Rather than believing Wen Zhu was a teacher, he was more inclined to think they were playing some avant-garde roleplay.
Wen Zhu admitted: “University professor. I teach Biology. I dabble in anatomy too—interested?”
“No thanks,” Seth’s expression grew even weirder. He’d met many intellectuals, but none like Wen Zhu.
“Professor, where are we going?” “Professor, I think my blood got on you… sorry.” “Professor…”
Professor, professor, professor—
A man over six feet tall was clinging to Wen Zhu, whining incessantly. Seth felt the veins on his forehead throbbing. At that moment, the famous international fugitive who once roamed the Atlantic didn’t yet realize what this “green tea” behavior meant.
“Professor, if we run into danger, don’t worry about me…”
Seth interrupted with a cold sneer: “Tell your chirping student to shut up, or I’ll fulfill his death wish right now.”
Before Wen Zhu could reply, Zhou Sui weakly buried his head into the crook of Wen Zhu’s neck—it was a miracle a man his size could perform such a high-difficulty move.
“He’s lost too much blood. If he doesn’t talk, I’m afraid he’ll pass out,” Wen Zhu frowned. He could feel Zhou Sui’s temperature dropping. Anyone who had been hunted knew that the scariest thing wasn’t the pain—it was the adrenaline making the pain vanish, replaced by a desperate urge to sleep. Once you fell asleep, you never woke up.
“Then let him pass out.”
“It’s okay, Professor. Don’t fight with your friend because of me.” Zhou Sui’s voice was soft, but in the dead silence of the hall, it was terrifyingly clear.
Yellow Bunny looked at Seth in fear; she felt he was getting even angrier!
“…” Wen Zhu gave Zhou Sui a long look. Zhou Sui just kept his eyes half-closed, looking perfectly harmless.
The atmosphere remained bizarrely tense, but they finally reached the end of the corridor. Li Zhong sighed in relief, only to see the reality at the end of the light: a heavy iron gate, securely bolted.
Yellow Bunny’s expression turned grim. She began to test the thick bars with her teeth, apparently hoping to “gnaw her way through” like a fable.
Three seconds later, the door creaked open slightly.
“Useless.” Seth truly doubted the rabbit’s IQ. If teeth could bite through this, why would he have bothered taking that beating earlier? A single key, snatched from a ring, was already in the lock.
“Brother Seth, you’re amazing!” Yellow Bunny cheered, ignoring Seth’s “you’re an idiot” look—she was used to it.
Zhou Sui, who had been playing dead, let out a “Wow!” of surprise. “So cool! Professor, how did you get the key?”
Wen Zhu swept a glance over Zhou Sui, knitted his brows, then relaxed them, remaining silent. This sequence of micro-expressions was rare for the frost-faced Professor Wen, but in the dim light, no one noticed.
“When I was first brought here, I thought about escaping. But the person I was locked with said only the mercenary leader has the key to this gate,” Zhou Sui said, his tone dropping. The person he mentioned was likely dead.
Yellow Bunny froze. “Mercenary leader?”
“Yeah, some guy with a buzz cut,” Zhou Sui nodded.
“Huh? Wasn’t that…” Li Zhong remembered the man and started to speak, then stopped abruptly.
Why had the buzz-cut man come to the cell? Because Liu Yang had escaped. Liu Yang was clumsy and cowardly—how did he dare to escape on his own? Of everyone, Liu Yang trusted one person most.
Li Zhong’s eyes drifted toward Seth, but he jumped at the dark, menacing expression on Seth’s face.
A month ago, Seth had been set up by a hobo near a dumpster and ended up in this dungeon. The unfamiliar environment made him cautious and calculating, so much so that many didn’t realize this “clever Abnormal” was actually a profit-driven international criminal who viewed human life as grass.
Without a word, Seth stepped forward and grabbed Zhou Sui by the collar: “You looking to die?”
His scarred face and terrifying expression were enough to make anyone’s heart stop.
Almost instantly, Wen Zhu’s pale hand clamped onto Seth’s wrist. Silver scales had already begun to spread up Wen Zhu’s wrist like a creeping silk.
“What are you doing?” The White Anaconda inside him was restless, making Wen Zhu’s expression turn cold.
“What, you’re standing up for this thing?” Seth didn’t back down. “Let go.”
“Did he say something wrong?” Wen Zhu didn’t yield an inch, his eyes cold. “I heard you trick Liu Yang into leaving with my own ears. That night, his body was tossed back in by the buzz-cut—you knew it would be him, didn’t you? Because you have an old grudge?”
Wen Zhu paused, then continued in a flat, clinical tone. “If I had to guess, that missing ear of his has something to do with you.”
In that moment, his tone, posture, and logic perfectly mimicked Pei Qingshan. It was calm but incredibly aggressive.
The effect was potent. Seth actually laughed, letting go of Zhou Sui and pinning Wen Zhu against the wall instead: “What’s your relationship with him that you’re protecting him like this?”
The fugitive finally tore off his mask, revealing his savage, selfish nature.
“What does it have to do with you?” Wen Zhu suppressed the Anaconda. His back slammed into the hard concrete, and he said impatiently, “At least he’s cleaner than you.”
As he spoke, Wen Zhu felt a sharp pain in his arm. Looking down, he saw a thick, growing tentacle had snaked into his sleeve, coiling tightly around him. The suckers pulsated with his breathing—a grotesque sight.
“Professor, watch out!” Zhou Sui shouted from his crouched position.
The tentacle followed Seth’s angry instinct, but once it touched Wen Zhu, the sensation shifted. The slimy thing slid up his arm to his pale, slender neck.
Wen Zhu’s “vitals” looked too fragile. As Seth tightened the grip, he could feel the pulse and the quickening breath. He leaned into Wen Zhu’s ear and hissed: “You bastard… I really want to shove my tentacles into every single hole in your body!”
A sharp snake tail swung with lethal precision, ruthlessly severing the soft tentacle. Bloody slime splattered everywhere.
No one expected Wen Zhu to be so ruthless. The severed section of the tentacle twitched twice, lost its life, and thudded to the floor.
Seth turned pale with pain, though perhaps because he’d already had one ripped out, it wasn’t as agonizing as before. It was mostly pure, unadulterated rage. His bloodshot eyes fixed on Wen Zhu.
This overly beautiful snake-man wasn’t as harmless as he pretended to be. Now, for the sake of that pathetic student, he had bared his venomous fangs.
It was infuriating!
Seeing the situation spiral out of control, Yellow Bunny charged in, hugging the enraged Seth: “No, no, no! Brother Seth! If we fight now, we’ll draw the mercenaries!”
“Move!” Seth kicked her away with his uninjured leg. This time, Li Zhong caught her.
“Seth!”
“You all get to be the good guys, while I’m the villain!” Seth sneered, flicking blood from his stump onto Wen Zhu’s silver scales. “If you’re so noble, don’t use the key. Crawl back into your pig cage and rot—that’s the best way to comfort Liu Yang’s soul.”
He kicked the iron gate open and stormed off.
Yellow Bunny looked at Wen Zhu, then at Seth’s retreating figure: “Wen Bai…”
Wen Zhu jerked his chin toward the exit. His pale face was expressionless, but as his cold, vertical pupils swept over her, Yellow Bunny felt an undeniable power rising within her, a primal warning that made her limbs tremble.
The three figures vanished at the end of the hall.
Zhou Sui spoke up after a moment: “Professor, did I say something wrong?”
“Let’s talk about something else,” Wen Zhu interrupted.
“Huh? Like what?”
“What happened that day? Why were you kidnapped?”
It had only been a month, but to Zhou Sui, it felt like a lifetime ago. “All I know is the guy who took me is named Noah, supposedly the boss of Paradise. He said he smelled a scent on me and asked how I was hiding my mutation.”
The student, fresh wounds and all, looked aggrieved. “I told him I didn’t know anything, so he threw me in here and beat me.”
“Noah? Any defining features?”
“He has fire! He’s a fire-man! And… the skin on his arms is connected to his body. When he raises his hands, the skin opens up like wings.” Zhou Sui shivered. “Is there really a way for monsters to hide among humans without being caught? That would be chaos!”
Then he realized who he was talking to. As Wen Zhu’s half-smiling gaze landed on him, Zhou Sui shuddered.
Right. Professor Wen is one of them. He promptly shut up.
Cold scales brushed against Zhou Sui’s hot cheek as he leaned forward. Wen Zhu used his sharp claws to pry Zhou Sui’s eyelids open and then forced his mouth open, so roughly that Zhou Sui thought he was about to be silenced.
After a moment, Wen Zhu pulled back and sighed: “My skills are rusty. I didn’t kill it clean.”
“Huh?” The student’s clear eyes looked at him, and this time, Wen Zhu clearly saw the amber-red hue in his pupils—a strong non-human trait.
“You were likely parasitized by that frog in the taxi,” Wen Zhu clicked his tongue. “But it only had one breath left. The parasitism is slow.”
In short, it was too weak to even notice at first. This was easier to accept than the various terminal illnesses Zhou Sui had imagined. He nodded. “So what do we do?”
“Leave first.”
Unfortunately, the iron gate wasn’t the final obstacle. Stepping out of the lightless dungeon, Zhou Sui would never have believed this was the same place. The two dusty, bedraggled figures looked like peasants who had stumbled into a royal garden.
Beautiful! Is this business really that profitable?
The two thoughts flashed through their respective minds. Wen Zhu sighed. Times had changed. When he first came out, a Specter who couldn’t read or write couldn’t survive in human society without a degree. Now, there were wealth and opportunities everywhere.
Both were exhausted from the jailbreak. Knowing they couldn’t find the exit immediately, they decided to hide and wait out the night.
They tucked themselves into a dark corner under a staircase. Their identity was a great cover; there were many Abnormals around, and if caught, they could pretend to be lazy servants.
It was a quiet night. Most of the mercenaries seemed to be stationed elsewhere. Wen Zhu’s nerves finally began to relax.
“Professor.” “Mm.” “Do you think I can still get my degree when I go back?” Zhou Sui’s voice was low, like a wet puppy. “Not necessarily, but you can at least get a death certificate,” Wen Zhu “consoled” him. “…”
In the dim light, Wen Zhu leaned back and closed his eyes. Zhou Sui, having been silenced for a month, was incredibly talkative. Even though Wen Zhu felt some sympathy for the student’s plight, that sympathy was wearing thin.
Wen Zhu opened his eyes to tell him to shut up. In that split second, a flash of white light caught his peripheral vision, stopping him cold.
He looked around. In his vertical-pupil state, he could see every tiny insect in the room. He easily found the anomaly—a small reflection on the stainless steel railing of the stairs.
The light hit it just right, showing a distorted image. It was a pendant on a red string, hovering millimeters away from Wen Zhu.
“I wonder if Old Zhang would be willing to bail out a lucky graduate of the 47th class…” Zhou Sui’s voice echoed in the small space as he sighed and rambled on.
Simultaneously, in the reflection on the steel, Wen Zhu saw his own chin—and right next to it, another face slowly leaning in. A familiar face: Zhou Sui’s.
In the reflection, Zhou Sui’s mouth was tightly closed, fixed in a grin, staring intently at Wen Zhu.
Then who is the person talking?
Looking closer at the distorted reflection, Wen Zhu saw the skin on that face rippling, as if something were crawling beneath the fat layer. It was a chilling sight.
“Professor, you have to talk to the counselor for me! If I don’t graduate soon, I’ll be too old!”
The voice continued naturally, sounding as if it were two meters away. But the physical face was weirdly pressed against Wen Zhu. The grin on that face was stretching with unnatural elasticity, the corners nearly reaching the eyes. The mouth took up half the face, eyes staring fixedly at Wen Zhu, as if ready to peel off and stick to his own skin.
Behind the face was a half-meter-long neck, connecting to a body two meters away.
“Professor, you don’t seem worried at all?” “Professor, why aren’t you answering… are you asleep?”
Wen Zhu’s skin crawled. Perhaps he had been still for too long, or his focus was too obvious. The “Zhou Sui” leaning in followed his gaze and saw the reflection on the railing.
Their eyes met in the distorted steel.
“Ah…” The rambling complaints behind him stopped instantly. “I’ve been found.”
Wen Zhu reacted instantly, pulling back as a forked, bloody tongue darted from the split mouth. Now that he was exposed, “Zhou Sui” stopped pretending. His head retracted.
Wen Zhu saw the full form. He couldn’t even be called human. The skin around his eyes was sagging, his eyes like swollen tumors hanging from his face. From his rhythmic, heaving belly, Zhou Sui’s innocent voice came: “Professor?”
Being called “Professor” by such an ugly thing was too much. “Who’s your professor?”
The disgust in Wen Zhu’s eyes enraged the Frog-Eyed Zhou Sui. The amber-red in his eyes flared like burning gems. Wen Zhu felt something wet whip across his cheek—a bloody tongue had lashed out with lightning speed.
But Wen Zhu was faster. His scale-covered fingers caught the tongue. A thin layer of frost formed on his palm, isolating the slime. “I pulled you out by the roots last time; haven’t you learned?”
A dark, oily blue film covered Zhou Sui’s skin.
“Last time, you weren’t like this,” the voice croaked from the belly. “You were… less weak.”
The elastic tongue slipped from Wen Zhu’s palm and instantly wrapped around his waist. The slimy touch was nauseating. After a sharp sting, half of Wen Zhu’s body went numb. He leaned against the wall, sweating, gasping for air. “You’re poisonous?”
A poison dart frog?
“Professor, why are you so soft-hearted?” The Frog-Sui grinned, his blue, corpse-spotted skin trembling. “You, such a powerful kin.”
The skin on his body sagged further into ripples.
“What did you do to Zhou Sui?”
“Guess.” The creature leaned in, sniffing Wen Zhu as if looking for something. The woody scent filled Wen Zhu’s head, making him dizzy.
Wen Zhu held his breath. “That burned corpse wasn’t his. He’s not dead.”
“Mm-hmm.” ‘Zhou Sui’ was noncommittal.
“You managed a ‘Golden Cicada’ escape and made it to Paradise without anyone noticing. How?” Wen Zhu pressed. “What are you here for?”