Chapter Thirty-Four: Guidelines for Handling and Onlookers

After a bout of shivering, the thug’s face took on a look of utter detachment, devoid of any desire, and even the broken glass bottle he was holding drooped in his hand.

Standing amidst the crowd, Chen Qing watched with curiosity, weighing the wooden awl in his hand, his mind brimming with questions.

He tugged at Jiang Wan beside him and quietly asked, “When you first encountered a taboo, did you feel anything special?”

Jiang Wan looked equally perplexed. She frowned and shook her head. “The first time I entered was the Backrooms... Could that have something to do with it?”

Chen Qing could not make sense of it. Frankly, he couldn’t fathom why a non-legacy item would be associated with... pleasure.

It was supposed to represent a kind of power—a lingering obsession left behind by a restless spirit.

Could it be they had found a batch of non-legacy items with obsessions about seeking pleasure before death?

Chen Qing shook his head. That was clearly impossible.

But while he was pondering, the fight at the center of the crowd had already reached its conclusion.

Brother Zhang bowed his head and admitted his mistake, promising to rent the wooden awl from Chen Qing. The thug, on the other hand, barged deeper into the crowd and dragged out the so-called “buddy” of his.

But as soon as that “buddy” appeared, Jiang Wan’s expression began to darken. Her lips turned pale as she glanced back at the private room. Karans had already opened the door and was beckoning her over.

She tugged at Chen Qing’s sleeve and whispered, “Can you call Karans over?”

Chen Qing was momentarily taken aback but nodded at once. “I’ll get him.”

Jiang Wan breathed a sigh of relief, though she also let out a soft sigh, her gaze sharpening with anger.

She pushed aside the useless wretch slumped before her, stepped on his ankle, and strode into the crowd.

The thug cocked his mouth, looking surprised. “Hey! Whose girl is this?”

But before he could finish, the “buddy” under his arm began to tremble all over, clutching the thug’s sleeve in terror, lips as pale as death.

“You! Didn’t you say we’d never be discovered here? You lied to me!”

Before he could finish, Jiang Wan’s figure flashed through the crowd, leaving behind a faint afterimage. She raised her foot, and the instant her toe touched the ground, she kicked the boy squarely in the stomach.

He didn’t even have time to groan before the force sent him flying several meters away.

He staggered to his feet, retching uncontrollably, but before he could even wipe away the bile from his lips, he scrambled a few steps forward and clung to Jiang Wan’s leg.

“Sis! Sis, you can’t kill me! If you kill me, my father will haunt you! You can’t kill me!”

His desperate cries made Chen Qing’s eyes widen in shock.

Chen Qing hesitated briefly, but the thug did not. He snatched up the broken bottle from the ground and lunged forward as if wielding a blade, shouting viciously, “Damn you... you dare meddle in my affairs!”

He eyed Jiang Wan with a flicker of lust. “Don’t you know who my old man is? If I don’t make you kneel and beg for forgiveness today, I’m not a real man.”

Before he could finish, the bottle in his hand came slashing down, but no matter how fast he moved, he was no match for Chen Qing.

As Chen Qing sprang forward, the crowd parted to either side as though pushed by an invisible force, each person feeling something inexplicable propelling them but seeing no source. What should have been a terrifying scene seemed perfectly natural here.

Chen Qing stood between Jiang Wan and the thug, intercepting the bottle with his left hand. In an instant, the sharp edge plunged into his palm, piercing through, blood dripping—and yet a smile played at his lips.

The thug tried to wrench the bottle free, but Chen Qing would not allow it.

With a mere squeeze, countless fleshy tendrils sprouted from his palm, coiling around the bottle, stretching and writhing as if yearning to return to their place of origin. They crawled outward, engulfing the entire bottle. The thug shuddered, his heart pounding, the alcohol in his system sobering instantly.

He watched as those fleshy growths, as if endowed with a will of their own, crushed the bottle in Chen Qing’s hand, reducing it to countless shards, which were then painstakingly extruded from beneath his newly healed skin.

Chen Qing lifted his gaze, the mirth gone from his eyes, and began to advance step by step toward the thug.

“W-wait! Wait, I said!”

Chen Qing heard him but showed no intention of stopping.

As he took a step forward, the thug retreated, backing up until he hit the edge of the crowd. The thug turned, intending to flee, but the people behind him stood immovable as a wall.

“Chen Qing.” Behind him, Jiang Wan called softly, “This isn’t... it’s not the Backrooms.”

Chen Qing smiled. “I’m not a monster.”

He continued his slow approach, the wound on his hand already nearly healed. He felt the hunger inside him and stooped to pick up a shard of glass from the ground.

He pressed it to his fingertip, drawing a droplet of blood.

With a squeeze, blood welled up like a spring.

“No... don’t! My father is Zhang Hongbo! You can ask them! Just say what you want!”

His screams trembled, but in response, a few mocking chuckles drifted through the crowd.

He looked up to see everyone smiling at the two in the circle. Someone called out, “Sir, let him name his price. We’ll match whatever he offers. Don’t worry about having no money after you kill him.”

Panic spread across his face.

“My family has money! Five hundred thousand! Five hundred thousand!”

Someone in the crowd laughed. “I’ll double it.”

“No... this has nothing to do with you! Why are you doing this to me?”

He searched the faces behind him for the speaker, but every face was the same—indifferent and cold.

Shaking, he turned back. “I... I can offer more... one and a half million!”

“I’ll match it, sir!”

His fingers trembled.

“Why... why...” His voice quivered. “Why...”

He heard them again, looked up, and saw smiles on every face.

“Why do you think?”

“He actually asked why?”

Camera flashes went off in the crowd.

“If you die, so what? Sir, don’t worry, I’ll handle the aftermath for you.”

He quivered like a lamb among wolves, glancing at the underlings he’d brought. But they all cowered in the corners, feigning death in silence.

Seeing this, Chen Qing allowed himself a faint smile.

“This place is truly filthy in its purity.”

Soft laughter rippled through the crowd. “Sir, you speak the truth.”

He watched the man on the ground crouch, extending his left hand, its writhing tendrils seeming to zero in on their prey.

The thug trembled, waving his arms in a futile attempt to hold Chen Qing back, feet scrabbling as the crowd behind him stood firm as iron.

“I... I can give you a cushy job! I’ll find you a position, I swear!”

“Oh?” Chen Qing smiled, glancing up. “Is there anyone who can offer me a job paying more than ten thousand a month? By the way, I won’t actually show up for work.”

The crowd played along, laughing. “Sir, please grant us the honor!”

“You’re all insane! He’s going to kill me! My dad is Zhang Hongbo!”

He scrambled backward, his fingernails breaking and bleeding as he clawed at the floor.

Chen Qing looked on, an inscrutable expression on his face. “Who told you... I had to kill you?”

He closed his eyes. At that moment, the thug on the ground managed to snatch up a shard of glass, gripping it so tightly his hand was slashed and bleeding.

He swung at Chen Qing.

Even so, Chen Qing showed no reaction.

He felt the glass cut his chest, staining his clothes with blood.

He opened his eyes. The fleshy tendrils in his hand writhed more wildly than ever. He seized the thug’s hand, gripping the wound two or three centimeters deep.

He looked into the thug’s terrified eyes, watched confusion spread across his face.

He glanced at his own hand.

Where their hands were locked, a faint itch began to spread.

“What... what did you do? What did you do to me?!”

The thug screamed, but Chen Qing had already let go. Onlookers stared in disbelief—his wound had completely healed.

The writhing tendrils had filled in the gash, his expression unruffled.

As if everything had gone exactly according to plan.

They looked down at the youth on the ground, a flicker of pity—just a flicker—passing over their faces.

“To offend an investigator. You’d be better off dead.”

Their laughter was mocking as the crowd stirred.

All eyes turned to Chen Qing standing in the open circle, their gazes burning.

But before long, a figure pushed through—no, not so much pushed as simply walked forward, the crowd parting of their own accord to make way.

Chen Qing looked up. It was Karans. With a single sweep of his gaze, he took in the scene, then bowed respectfully to Chen Qing.

“My deepest apologies for such a disappointing experience. I will take responsibility for today’s events. Please, come with me.”

He spoke softly, stepping ahead and gesturing with one arm to lead the way.