Chapter Forty-Two: The Connection Between the Foundation and the Fishing Grounds

Jiang Wan turned around in shock. What she saw was a young man wearing a round-brimmed hat, his hair grown to his shoulders and crudely tied into a few thick locks. Yet, his attire was at odds with his appearance—he wore a flamboyant, bright red shirt and flared trousers cinched at the waist, a style more fitting for two or three decades ago. As for now... one could only call it distinctive.

Jiang Wan frowned slightly as she looked at his face, inwardly wary of such a brazen interloper. The young man, oblivious to her disdain, pressed his luck and stepped up beside Chen Qing, draping an arm over his shoulder and speaking in a lewd, mocking tone.

“Well now, this kept lover of yours is quite the handsome one. Why not let me borrow him for a bit? I could help you break him in.”

He hadn’t finished speaking before his gaze slid over to Jiang Wan, his cheeks flushed and a hint of desperation in his eyes. “How about this, let me have him for a day! When I’m done, I’ll share some information with you tomorrow!”

Yet even before he could finish his words, Chen Qing’s expression had already shifted several times. Jiang Wan glanced at Chen Qing, a trace of amusement flickering across her face. “Are you sure you want to keep him? He won’t be easy to manage.”

He smiled at the brazen stranger before him, burying his vigilance even deeper. He was currently posing as a member of the Grace cult—he couldn’t afford to be cautious or too reserved. Members of the Grace cult... should act just like this.

He relaxed, leaning back slightly and slipping both hands into his pockets. “Oh? Keep me, you say?”

Chen Qing turned his head. The lewd young man was close—so close that Chen Qing needed only to lean forward to bring his lips near the man’s ear. The man’s face lit up with delight; he leaned in eagerly, pressing his ear closer. But at that instant, a third eye opened on Chen Qing’s forehead. Gripping a knife in his hand, he looked at the man and stabbed upward at an angle.

The man didn’t react—or rather, he never even saw the knife in Chen Qing’s hand. A sudden, sharp pain shot through his side; his lips trembled, his complexion turned pale. His gaze dropped, and out of the corner of his eye he saw the knife buried in his abdomen.

Slowly, he lifted his eyes, disbelief etched across his face. “Keep me? Who the hell do you think you are? A lapdog for the Foundation?”

Chen Qing’s face twisted with a feral smile as he pulled the blade free and plunged it back in. Blood splattered and sprayed, staining his cheeks and hands a vivid, gruesome red.

He laughed, watching the man’s pallor deepen, his own delight growing. Staring at the body before him, he said quietly, “Get out, or never let me see you again. Otherwise, you will die.”

He watched as the corpse’s fingers twitched—a lingering nerve response, not true death. But Chen Qing knew well enough: this was not the end.

Jiang Wan stood aside, her face drained of color. Yet seeing Chen Qing’s calm demeanor, she refrained from speaking.

He watched, waited for over two minutes, observing the corpse’s occasional spasms—until his patience wore thin.

“Either you take back your little toy now, or it’s coming with me into the earthen building.”

Finally, he received a response from the corpse.

“Why are all you Grace cult types so insane!”

The blood-drenched body spoke, though its mouth did not move, and blood still gushed forth. But it was unmistakably his voice.

“Oh? First day meeting us, is it?”

Chen Qing wiped the blood off his dagger and strode forward, crouching beside the man and driving the blade savagely into his chest—leaving just two fingers’ width exposed.

The man looked visibly shaken. “You... you actually mastered the Backrooms! You completed the experiment?!”

Chen Qing didn’t understand, but his expression remained arrogant and overbearing.

He gazed at the man, fingers pressing lightly on the dagger’s hilt. “Who are you?”

The corpse seemed to hesitate, a note of resignation in its tone. “What the hell... You don’t even know who I am, and you just killed me?!”

Chen Qing smiled coolly. “One more word out of you and you can forget about getting your relic back.”

With a grimace and some reluctance, the man replied, “Liu Hongyi.”

“What do you do?”

“What do I do?”

Chen Qing didn’t answer, just pressed the dagger down a little further.

“Wait! Wait! How do I know you’ll let me go if I tell you?”

He chuckled. “I may be crazy, but I’m not a fool.”

The man hesitated, then relented. “Alright. I’ll tell you—I’m a researcher.”

“Oh?” Chen Qing recalled that those in lab coats had called themselves by that title.

“What are you looking for?”

“Whatever you’re looking for, I’m looking for too. But if it’s that, you’re not the one to find it.”

“Heh. How do you know I’m alone? Sure, the traitor hid well, but there are only a hundred rules for this Backroom. Even if it costs us our lives, we’ll figure them out eventually. Besides... you’ve come here too, haven’t you?”

The corpse’s face twisted, but Chen Qing had gathered enough: traitor, information.

Facing the corpse, he pressed further, “Daring to use us as your vanguard?”

He smiled and moved as if to drive the dagger deeper.

“Wait! Wait! Didn’t they tell you?!” the man cried, halting Chen Qing’s hand. “Once we catch her, we’ll publish three evolutionary chains of relics!”

“Oh?” Chen Qing shot Jiang Wan a strange look; she instantly understood and lowered her head, feigning a guilty conscience.

“Your club’s people have overstepped,” he muttered, barely concealing his anger.

The corpse, meanwhile, seemed unsurprised, as if he’d expected this all along.

“I’ll give you one more piece of information. Maybe she didn’t tell you... We are not the only ones who entered this Backroom. The Foundation, Dao Court, League, and some contracted investigators... they’re all here. I can also share a rule—as payment for my life. Deal?”

Chen Qing nodded, smiling with feigned sincerity. “Please, go ahead.”

“In here, you can’t act alone, nor in groups. Act alone—you die. In a group—you die as well. Trust me, it’s true. I have no energy to deceive someone from the Grace cult, whom I might meet again.”

He sighed, a final thought left unsaid: “I have no strength to deal with you lunatics.”

But before he could finish, his world changed completely. He froze, staring in confusion at the cave in front of him.

“Huh?”

He was still stunned.

“Huh?!”

He tried to use his relic.

“Damn it!”

He gritted his teeth, his outburst drawing several officers over.

“Failed?” They looked unperturbed as they handed him a hard, plastic-like sheet.

“Damn it, damn it, damn the Grace cult! He promised he’d return my relic!”

Liu Hongyi’s words brought a flash of resentment and loathing to the others’ faces.

“Those bastards from the Grace cult...”

He muttered, but the woman beside him urged restraint.

“Settle the score later. We have to seize it before they do. You lost out—don’t drag us down.”

Her words calmed the group. They nodded, but every one of them harbored a grudge against the Grace cult.

They were enemies from the start—why pretend otherwise?

He took the sheet, pressed his face to it. He felt his features begin to dissolve, his arms tensing as he stretched the sheet, now soft and pliant. His melted muscles etched themselves onto it.

Though it was just a piece of paper, it wailed in agony.

Through Liu Hongyi’s eyes, he saw his own corpse discarded in the river, chest hollowed out, clearly searched thoroughly. Gritting his teeth, he crashed into the body. Instantly, his ears filled with a cacophony of chanting, and scales made of paper began to form on his face.

He felt himself growing heavier and heavier, forcing his former body to swim for the shore.

Just minutes ago, as the man’s words were about to end, Chen Qing had pressed the dagger all the way into his chest. Watching the man’s life fade from his eyes, Chen Qing saw a relic in his chest—crimson, doll-sized, no longer than a thumb.

He pulled it from the gaping wound. But as soon as he held it, the relic’s glow began to fade, its power spent.

“So the Foundation... really can mass-produce relics now?”

He fell silent, his expression grim.

“You just killed him like that? Aren’t you afraid he’ll come back for revenge?” Jiang Wan asked behind him, her tone puzzled.

Chen Qing’s calm returned. “He’ll come after the Grace cult and the club, not Chen Qing or Jiang Wan. What’s that got to do with us?”

She twitched—fair point, since it wasn’t themselves being hunted...

With a soft laugh, Chen Qing dragged the corpse over to the old man.

The old man stared at the river, not sparing Chen Qing a glance.

“Sir, you need to bait the fish before you fish,” he said.

“Bait?” the old man echoed, momentarily taken aback.

“Here! Sir! A hundred pounds of fresh meat for bait! The fish will surely bite!”