As soon as Zheng Qing finished speaking, the previously tense expressions among the group began to relax. Some of the younger members even started trying to cozy up to Lin Jingqiu.
Wang Que tapped his finger on the table, drawing everyone's attention.
"Enough," he said sternly. "We'll deal with everything else later. Right now, the most important thing is—"
Without wasting a word, he began laying out the mission's key points and several potential complications in capturing the target.
One major point of concern was, of course, the Earth-Burrowing technique the higher-ups were so eager to acquire.
Just as Wang Que paused to move on, a tremor shook the ground beneath their feet.
A thick, pungent scent of blood suddenly flooded the air.
The earth groaned.
An ominous chill surged through everyone's heart.
Wang Que rushed out of the corner store, and the sight that met him left his face pale with shock.
At some unknown point, the once-clear blue sky had turned an eerie shade of blood-red. It looked as if a massive bowl had descended from the heavens, sealing both the welfare home and the store within its confines.
All around, grotesque blood-red arms broke through the soil, clawing their way up from the earth. Haunting, teeth-grinding wails echoed ominously in the air.
"What the hell?!"
Someone cried out.
Even though they were used to dealing with cultivators and supernatural events, the sheer surreal horror before them made everyone's scalp prickle and skin crawl.
Zheng Qing's face turned grim. Raised on Qingcheng Mountain, she had studied countless Daoist scriptures and texts. Her understanding went far beyond most.
"This isn't right," she said gravely. "The intel was wrong. No way someone at the third layer of Qi Refining could stir up a phenomenon like this."
"It must be a trap," she concluded. "That demonic cultivator likely set this up long ago to lure us in."
As she spoke, she subtly pulled Lin Jingqiu to the rear of the group.
If things goes sideways, she was getting her junior sister out of there first—no matter what happened to the others.
After all, in situations like this… better the dao-friend than the poor me.
But before anyone could react further, a scream tore through the air.
The young man who had earlier tried to chat up Lin Jingqiu was now frozen in terror, his horrified eyes glued to his feet.
From beneath him, a giant blood-red hand had wrapped itself around his ankle.
In its palm, rows of tiny mouths opened—each lined with neat, razor-sharp teeth.
The mouths began to writhe.
Gnawing.
Chewing.
Flesh was stripped away bite by bite.
The man, driven beyond reason by the pain and fear, yanked a pistol from his belt and began firing wildly at his own leg.
Gunfire roared in flashes of flame.
So did his screams.
But as the gunpowder smoke cleared, the hand remained untouched.
Only the man's calf—now a hollow husk of bone—stood as a testament to the horror.
Then, more screams followed in quick succession.
The group fell into disarray. Their carefully laid plans collapsed into chaos.
Even Wang Que, their hardened team leader, was trembling. His shirt clung to his skin, soaked with cold sweat.
Fuck. What kind of mission is this? We haven't even seen the damn enemy and we're already dropping like flies!
This wasn't some common demonic cultivator. His tricks and rituals were in a completely different league than anything they'd encountered before.
We were wrong. Horribly wrong.
They had made the fatal mistake of measuring this target by the standards of demonic cultivators they'd dealt with in the past.
But cultivation was exponential. Every level was a massive leap, and this… this was something else entirely.
"Run!" Wang Que finally shouted.
Not that anyone needed telling. Those who still had working legs were already sprinting, dragging along the comrade whose leg was reduced to bone.
In the past, they might have fought with courage, driven by duty and the will to protect the people.
But now?
Faced with such overwhelming terror, those ideals had been left in the dust.
They ran.
But where to?
Blood-red hands rose everywhere, blocking every direction.
Every direction but one.
The road to the orphanage.
Without hesitation, they all bolted toward it. When it was life or death, there was no time for debate.
Get out of this nightmare zone first. Think later.
And it was then that the mastermind revealed himself.
Zhang A'si stepped from the shadows.
His face had gone unnaturally pale, swollen in strange, grotesque patches—like a drowned corpse fished out days after death.
To pull off a blood sacrifice this large, Zhang A'si had sacrificed everything.
He had even poured in the priceless Blood Condensation Pearl—an artifact forged from the hearts of 999 newborns and the world's most tormented souls, as described in the Blood Fiend Scripture.
It was this bead, plus what remained of his own vital essence, that made the ritual possible.
A third-layer Qi Refiner like him couldn't have powered the formation otherwise.
Standing where he was, Zhang A'si watched them run—smiling.
Yes, that's it. Run. Run straight into the trap. Save me the effort of dragging you in one by one.
He began humming a jaunty tune, utterly pleased with himself.
That's the beauty of reading military strategy—ever heard of "leave one path open in a siege"?
The blood ritual was complete.
Now—who could stop him?
He, Zhang A'si, after years of silent endurance… was about to ascend.
—
While the world outside descended into bloody chaos, inside the welfare home, Chen An was still braiding the girl's hair.
The small orphanage was peaceful.
The other children were in the classroom further inside, where the old headmaster was teaching them phonics. Occasionally, soft recitations drifted out.
Chen An thought for a moment, then turned to the boy still glued to his phone.
"You should go to the bathroom."
Qin Shou looked confused. "What for?"
Chen An tilted his head. "Don't you think playing mobile games goes better with a bathroom break?"
Qin Shou scoffed. "Nah, I think reading webnovels pairs better with a long poop."
"But now that you mention it… yeah, I do kinda feel the urge. You got tissue?"
Chen An handed him a pack of tissues from his pocket.
Qin Shou grabbed it, slapped his butt, and cheerfully trotted off toward the outhouse.
As he passed by the kitchen, Chen An called after him, "Toss me the firewood stick by the stove."
Too pressed to ask why, Qin Shou casually grabbed the hefty stick and tossed it back.
"What the hell are you even doing, bro?"
Chen An chuckled. "Might come in handy."
Come in handy?
Qin Shou found that bizarre.
The thing was little more than a fire stoker—what use could it possibly have?
Unless…
Maybe it could double as a makeshift baseball bat?