“You guess,” the wary Aberrant replied with the same sentence.
But Wen Zhu was clearly more difficult to deal with than he imagined. Even after such a potent toxin was injected into his body, it only seemed to make him furrow his brows slightly. His movements remained agile, ruthless, and unpredictable.
Zhou Sui couldn’t see any familiar traces of their kin he had fought before in him. There was only a faint chill in the air that one would miss if they didn’t focus.
That ridiculous, sneer-worthy rumor seemed to gradually take shape within the Aberrant’s slippery, rounded eyes.
The snake tail hung limply on the ground. Wen Zhu leaned against the wall, head down, panting. His jacket had been torn with several sharp slashes, and blood surged out steadily.
Seeing that he was at the end of his tether, Zhou Sui finally walked over slowly, his nostrils flaring slightly.
“Professor, you smell so good.”
The scent of blood diffused through the air as if some ancient seal had been triggered. In the undertones, there was a lure hidden deep in the bloodline that Zhou Sui couldn’t quite describe.
His heart began to pound with excitement.
Zhou Sui happily noted the fine cold sweat breaking out on Wen Zhu’s temples; it seemed his toxin wasn’t as useless against Wen Zhu as it appeared. He eagerly lifted Wen Zhu’s chin.
Suddenly, he met those emotionless vertical pupils, and alarm bells rang out—
Wrong!
By the time Zhou Sui realized it, it was too late.
The dark slit in the middle of the golden pupils gradually expanded like an ink stick soaking into a brilliant ocean. The invisible moisture in the surrounding air was instantly sucked dry. With a “crack” from somewhere, the chill instantly condensed and spread into a giant web. The prey in the web could only watch helplessly as their own blood felt as if it had stagnated.
In the moment Zhou Sui froze like a block of wood, Wen Zhu had already succeeded. He grabbed the black stone on the red string and quickly retreated to a safe distance.
The chill shattered.
“Give it to me!” Zhou Sui snapped back to his senses and touched his empty neck. His skin became a deeper ghostly blue, turning almost black—likely a sign of fury for this underwhelming Poison Dart Frog.
Wen Zhu was very satisfied.
During the fight just now, Zhou Sui had instinctively been protecting the item on his neck—he’d rather take a few more inches of slashes from the snake tail on the back of his hand than lose it. It seemed that thing was indeed the Poison Dart Frog’s “seven inches”—his fatal weakness.
Having been caught by his weakness, Zhou Sui didn’t intend to play with Wen Zhu any longer. His abdomen began to swell undeniably, and his hollow gaze stared straight at Wen Zhu, making Wen Zhu feel a searing burn where the toxin had scratched him.
Looking at that belly full of poison, it would be a disaster if it all sprayed out.
The bloody tongue in the frog’s mouth coiled toward Wen Zhu’s wrist again like a persistent, sticky death wish. Wen Zhu made a decisive move, shouting sharply: “If you don’t come out now, I’ll blow myself up along with this thing!”
Zhou Sui was startled by the sudden shout, his attack faltering for an instant. He frowned: “What, you…”
“Oh dear, haven’t I come out? What’s the rush?” A malicious laugh echoed through the silent space. Three figures emerged from the shadows. Leading them was Seth, who had been so angry he’d split off earlier. He seemed to love this “near-death” look on Wen Zhu. After studying him for a long time, he finally said, “You did cut off one of my tentacles, after all. Yet I couldn’t even bear to let him give you a single scratch.”
Even in this situation, Wen Zhu didn’t change his colors, retorting sarcastically: “Blame your own foul mouth.”
“You clearly knew it was an act!” Seth disagreed. “How was my acting?”
“Too amateurish. Only slightly better than Zhou Sui,” Wen Zhu, the “practical school” Best Actor, commented flatly. “The ‘fury’ was so exaggerated that only an idiot wouldn’t see through it.”
Zhou Sui, who had been acted upon and then insulted: “…”
Watching the two of them chat as if no one else were there, how could Zhou Sui not understand? “You did this on purpose?”
Deliberately putting on a show of being at odds just to wait for Wen Zhu to be alone and force Zhou Sui to reveal his true form? The shock in his voice wasn’t faked: “When?”
He clearly hadn’t shown any flaws…
“From the very beginning,” Seth smiled. Doing this kind of collaborative dirty work for the first time, he realized his desire for performance was terrifyingly strong. Several tentacles tightly coiled around the now-grotesque Zhou Sui, pinning him firmly to the ground.
Recalling the shiver, like a fine electric current, when his tentacle touched Wen Zhu earlier—the two had reached a consensus in an instant without a single look or word. If Seth had read more books, he would have realized it was just a biological information exchange; unfortunately, his brain was entirely devoted to making money through the international penal code, so he categorized the feeling as a “soul attraction.”
—Perhaps it was God’s guidance.
“Impossible!” Zhou Sui coldly lowered his two swollen, bulbous eyes.
“The chip,” Wen Zhu tapped the back of his neck. “It’s a tradition of your Paradise Lost, isn’t it? To dig a chip into every ‘freak’ you catch?”
As he spoke, his sharp, slender fingertip ruthlessly pierced into the new skin that had just healed over the scar on the back of his neck. After stirring slightly in the flesh, he pulled out a hard, square object. Flicking away the blood, a metal chip was exposed to everyone.
Li Zhong was terrified and quickly pressed the back of his own neck. Sure enough, he felt a hard object—when they were captured, they had so many wounds of all sizes that no one noticed a chip had been implanted!
“But you don’t have one on you,” Wen Zhu thrust his fingers into Zhou Sui’s hair, tightened his grip, and yanked him up. Looking down at him, he said impatiently: “Tell me, where is Zhou Sui?”
“Professor…” The Aberrant was forced to tilt its head back but suddenly began to laugh. Its features, melted and twisted out of place, still faintly resembled Zhou Sui’s face.
It was truly an eyesore. Not having unified the aesthetics of these things while he was in power had finally become a thorn in Wen Zhu’s side. He had never had much patience for ugly things. His other hand ruthlessly throttled the thing’s neck: “I’ll ask one more time: where is Zhou Sui?”
A domineering power surged over like a tide. All of Zhou Sui’s defensive measures were like cracked eggs against him. His face turned from white to red to purple in the suffocating grip before he managed to squeeze out: “I am Zhou Sui, Professor!”
Wen Zhu gave a hum: “Then die once. After you die once, I’ll know if you were Zhou Sui.”
For some reason, Zhou Sui couldn’t break free of that seemingly fragile arm. That day, it was also such a hand…
Zhou Sui couldn’t escape the tentacles coming from all directions—God knows what was up with this “freak” Seth. He was forced to change tactics. His arm, covered in large ghostly blue scales, suddenly slipped through the gaps like elastic rubber, coiling tightly around Wen Zhu’s waist in an attempt to strangle him. He rolled his eyes and said with difficulty: “Don’t you find ‘Zhou Sui’ troublesome?”
Shouldn’t his death be exactly what you want?
“I said, I owe him one,” Wen Zhu appeared very impatient. His fingers tightened further, and Zhou Sui even heard his own jaw crack. His eyes bulged, his face turning a deep purple.
“I… I am him… I am Zhou Sui, Professor, I’m the one you owe!”
Wen Zhu suddenly let go, and the tentacles obediently retracted.
Only Zhou Sui was left face-down on the ground, gasping for air, physiological saliva dripping pathetically. He rested on the ground for a long time before sluggishly standing up against the wall, laughing with a pitiful playfulness: “Professor Wen, don’t you recognize me? I am him, and he is me.”
“From the very beginning, I was him.” Zhou Sui’s gaze remained glued to Wen Zhu like a venomous reptile. “From the moment we stepped into that fated taxi—I never thought a stinking fox could bring me such a big surprise, Professor.”
“You’re saying that in the taxi that night, I was the only person there?”
Seeing Zhou Sui like this, how could Wen Zhu not understand? All the clues snapped into place perfectly. The strange blue flames he had seen burning on the building that night were indeed the poison from this toad.
He had only gone to Linjing to kill that fox? To go to such lengths… that fox must not have been simple either.
So, he had accidentally chosen Wen Zhu from among so many passengers? Was there such a coincidence? Questions flashed through Wen Zhu’s mind.
“Of course not,” Zhou Sui denied his statement, saying meaningfully, “To be precise, you aren’t human either.”
“You can’t have hidden in the crowd for so long that you forgot what kind of thing you originally were, right?”
No one answered; even Seth didn’t open his mouth. After a moment, a scoff rang out.
Wen Zhu didn’t like wasting words, just like when he was teaching, and he hated Zhou Sui’s self-righteous, riddling evasions even more.
His fingernails, encased in snake scales, were narrow and sharp. Without hesitation, they stabbed into the root of Zhou Sui’s tongue. The next second, thick blood choked Zhou Sui’s entire mouth and splattered across Wen Zhu’s hand.
A tragic scream, torn from deep within the throat, echoed down the hallway.
“Disgusting.”
The indifferent “Snake-man” flicked the blood from his scales.
Looking at the inhuman thing twitching on the ground, Seth’s eyes twitched. He said with a complicated expression: “What use is he now that you’ve turned him into this?”
This was not what he had envisioned! Surely keeping this thing intact in their hands would be far more valuable.
Wen Zhu lifted his eyelids to look at him, the threat in his gaze unmistakable—Do you want to end up like this too?
Seth wisely shut his mouth.
Tyrant!
“No matter what the cost, even if you turn Paradise Lost upside down, find those rats for me!” Noah leaned listlessly against the sofa. The black suede of the sofa glinted coldly, just like his eyes. A thin layer of skin covering his arms connected to his waist. The moment he raised his hand, a fierce gale erupted, instantly knocking over a group of burly men. “If this auction is affected, none of you will live!”
The man with the buzz cut gritted his teeth and knelt on the floor: “Yes, sir!”
Military personnel had entered Paradise Lost. Noah’s rage had already burned to death five or six of the buzz-cut man’s brothers. If he told Noah now that the new batch of “freaks” captured in the dungeon had also been lost, that would truly be the end of him. Anyway, those freaks had chips in them; they couldn’t get far.
After thinking it over, the buzz-cut man decided not to tell Noah about the four auction items that had escaped the cells.
Noah didn’t know what the man was thinking until a familiar notification rang. His unmoved expression finally changed, and he called out respectfully: “My Lord.”
“Noah, I’m sending a new piece over tonight.”
“What?” Noah hesitated, looking up to see a familiar pendant flash briefly in the frame where only half a jaw was visible. He lowered his head again and asked carefully: “Haven’t the pieces already been selected?”
“Do I need to explain my actions to you?” The business-like voice seemed tinged with a fleeting emotion as it murmured softly: “Don’t be afraid. It’s a masterpiece.”
“Yes,” Noah replied submissively.
After hanging up, Seth moved the communication screen away from Zhou Sui’s face. He reopened the micro-walkie-talkie by his ear. When he spoke, he used a voice identical to Zhou Sui’s, but made it deeper and more magnetic, with the characteristics of a Western male: “Good luck, my soulmate.”
Wen Zhu ignored the flirtatious provocation.
In the enclosed, dark space, he could only feel the constant bumping. This feeling was truly unpleasant. He didn’t know how much time had passed before a blinding light suddenly flooded back—
Though he had agreed submissively and obediently on the surface, this “boss” of Paradise Lost was privately extremely dissatisfied.
“I have to change the cage again!”
“A ‘masterpiece’?” He mimicked the tone of the person on the screen in a high-pitched voice. The next moment, his irritable voice boomed through the room: “What kind of bullshit masterpiece?”
“How much of a masterpiece can it be?”
A cage covered in cloth was brought in. Noah cursed under his breath as he walked over and yanked the curtain away. His voice stopped abruptly.
He stared at the quiet, alert face inside. His gaze, sticky and cold, roved down to the porcelain-white snake tail. His volume suddenly dropped as he murmured:
“Hey… he really is a masterpiece!”