Chapter 156: No Way Back on This Journey (6)
It was quiet all around.
Yan Shixun could even distinguish the frantic rustling of tree branches as the wind blew through them—howling like a ghost’s sob.
There were also the sounds of spinning wheels in the air, and metal parts clattering to the ground… All of it felt so distant, as if muffled by some invisible barrier, unreal and dreamlike.
The late autumn wind pierced through his overcoat, and the chill crawled up his spine through his skin.
Yan Shixun’s eyelashes trembled. His mind, which had just gone blank from the heavy impact, began to function again.
His limp fingers curled slightly at the joints. Then, still dulled from the blow, he slowly opened his eyes.
His view came from a low angle, almost level with the highway surface. Yan Shixun could even see the structure beneath the car’s chassis. The dark clouds pressing down and the wildly flailing leaves above loomed high, making him feel all the smaller in comparison.
It took a few seconds for his reawakened brain to piece together what had just happened.
Because the driver braked too abruptly, the car’s safety system kicked in. But due to the high speed, the vehicle lost stability. Amid the swaying and bumping, it hit something and tipped over—rolling completely.
Everything had happened so fast.
From the moment the driver warned Yan Shixun of a potential anomaly, to when they saw that faceless figure suddenly appear out of nowhere, to the emergency brake and the eventual crash—it had all occurred within the span of a minute.
Yan Shixun hadn’t even had time to register the situation or see clearly who had stepped in front of the car before the accident was already happening.
He had no chance to react.
He had been about to rise, but in the violent jolt, he was slammed sideways against the back of a seat. His head crashed heavily into the interior of the vehicle, and the thick metal left him numb. A tingling shock spread downward from the crown of his head, and his vision darkened in waves.
From behind, the guests had screamed in pain. Everyone was caught off guard by the sudden accident.
They watched helplessly as the world spun before their eyes, their bodies slamming into the hard windows and interior of the vehicle, pain sweeping through their limbs.
All Yan Shixun could do was grit his teeth through the pain. Relying on sheer willpower, he had forced his arm to lift and form a hand seal in the air, trying to protect the others from the crash.
But his final memory was the flickering lights inside the car, the hand seal glowing faintly in the darkness—and Zhang Wubing’s panicked expression as he was flung forward.
And then Yan Shixun’s mind went blank.
Until now.
He still didn’t know whether the hand seal had worked. He hadn’t had time to check. The car’s violent rolling and the desperate way he had forced power out had made forming the seal much more difficult.
He didn’t know whether the spell had successfully protected the others…
A faint groan of pain escaped his lips. Once he gathered his senses, he tried to roll over and get up to check on the others.
But as soon as he pressed his palm to the “ground,” he realized something was off.
It was too soft.
And just as he tried to push off it with strength, he heard a sudden, uneven breathing sound.
Yan Shixun froze in place.
He realized—that what he was lying on… wasn’t the ground at all.
It was a human cushion.
Long black hair spread out beneath him, tangled in the folds of his dark green overcoat. It was cool and smooth like fine silk.
And just from that familiar hair alone, Yan Shixun knew who he was lying on.
Ye Li.
Yan Shixun quickly moved his hand away. When he looked down, he finally saw that Ye Li’s entire body had been beneath him—acting as a buffer between him and the ground, shielding him from the brunt of the impact.
That was the only reason he could still move freely now. Except for the pounding pain in his head from the crash, he didn’t seem to have any major injuries elsewhere.
But Ye Li, who had taken the hit for him, clearly hadn’t gotten off so easy.
At the very moment the car accident occurred, Yan Shixun was concerned about everyone in the vehicle—but in Ye Li’s eyes, there was only Yan Shixun.
Ye Li immediately opened his arms to catch Yan Shixun, who had been flung forward by inertia. With his physical advantage, he held Yan Shixun tightly in his embrace, shielding him from the full impact of the crash. When the vehicle overturned, Ye Li cushioned Yan Shixun beneath him, ensuring not even the slightest harm came to the person in his arms.
But Ye Li had miscalculated one thing—
—The influence of the Evil Spirit Bone Transformation.
Faced with the choice of protecting Yan Shixun or gathering power to reverse the situation, Ye Li chose the former without hesitation.
However, in the midst of the chaotic turmoil, when heaven and earth spun wildly, the hand seal that Yan Shixun formed unintentionally injured Ye Li. Combined with the damage from the impact and inertia, Ye Li couldn’t help but frown in pain.
Ye Li was not without weaknesses.
—Or rather, before meeting Yan Shixun over a decade ago, Ye Li had already grown disillusioned with the world and the people in it. He had vaguely begun to touch upon the realm of the Great Dao, to the extent that even the Dao itself had to be wary of him.
No living being governed by the five elements and eight trigrams could harm him.
Except for himself.
More than ten years ago, Ye Li had given a portion of his power to another person, helping him to smooth his meridians and resist the invading ghostly aura in his body, allowing him to survive.
That strand of power was essentially no different from Ye Li’s true self.
So when Yan Shixun struck Ye Li, the impact was very real. It landed directly on Ye Li’s body and caused genuine injury.
It also forcefully interrupted what Ye Li had intended to do. The energy he had gathered under his palms instantly scattered, and he could no longer summon his original strength.
Ye Li could have used a more effective, though rougher, method—but doing so would inevitably injure Yan Shixun, who was very close to him. Weighing the consequences, Ye Li sighed softly and gave up.
Every decision he made was based on putting Yan Shixun first.
Yan Shixun had no idea about the whirlwind of thoughts Ye Li had gone through in that fleeting moment. He only saw Ye Li lying silently on the ground, eyes closed, like a lifeless statue, and panic immediately surged within him.
He called Ye Li’s name twice, but the other man simply lay there, face-up amidst the debris scattered across the road after the accident, appearing to sleep peacefully.
That made Yan Shixun’s heart sink. Only after checking Ye Li’s pulse did he breathe a sigh of relief. He quickly began to examine Ye Li’s condition.
The car crash had been severe.
Out of consideration for the guests’ safety, Zhang Wubing had arranged for them to use a commercial vehicle made entirely of heavy-duty metal. Among car enthusiasts, this model was even nicknamed the “armored vehicle,” which spoke volumes about its high safety rating.
But the flip side of such a design was the sheer weight of the metal body.
What was usually a fortress of safety became a deadly hazard once it overturned.
If someone had been crushed under the vehicle, there wouldn’t even be time for rescue—they would have been reduced to a pulp instantly.
At this moment, the car had toppled onto its side on the highway. Its tires were still spinning in the air from inertia, and the heavy body was dented in several places from the impact. Many parts had been smashed by the vehicle’s own weight and now littered the ground.
At first glance, the scene looked eerily similar to the previous crash that had suddenly occurred in front of the production crew’s convoy, the one that forced them to a stop.
Yan Shixun and Ye Li had both been thrown from the car. Nearby were the wreckage and debris—steel pipes, sharp metal edges, and other dangerous fragments.
This made Yan Shixun worry that Ye Li’s lack of response might be due to injuries to his back from those sharp objects.
After all, with just a quick glance, he could see that Ye Li was dressed entirely in white today. If there had been any injuries, bloodstains would be impossible to hide—and he would have been able to smell it.
The only explanation, aside from some mysterious arts, that Yan Shixun could think of was that Ye Li’s back had been injured, and the weight on him had prevented the scent of blood from spreading, which was why he hadn’t detected it.
With this in mind, Yan Shixun immediately knelt beside Ye Li, wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and prepared to lift him from the ground.
But as soon as he began to move, Yan Shixun couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows in surprise.
He had never realized before that, although Ye Li looked lean and well-proportioned, he was actually this heavy—and his body was all solid muscle.
He couldn’t help but recall how, back at the Jing Estate, this man’s physique had already looked impressive—yet now he found it was even more remarkable in reality.
As these thoughts ran through his mind, Yan Shixun couldn’t help but wonder why a sect’s founder had developed such an exceptional physique. His hands kept moving as he carefully ran his slender fingers down Ye Li’s back, checking for any wounds.
Ye Li had merely lost consciousness for a brief moment. When he came to, he found himself cradled in Yan Shixun’s arms. The moment he opened his eyes, his face was buried in the warm hollow of Yan Shixun’s neck, his attractive Adam’s apple brushing against Ye Li’s slightly parted lips.
And on his back, a hand was still gently touching him—
From top to bottom.
Even when injured and unconscious, any ordinary person who got close to Ye Li would have been instantly repelled by his immense, overwhelming power—some even fatally.
The only person who had ever been able to stay close to Ye Li—
Was the one he deeply valued and trusted: Yan Shixun.
So Ye Li didn’t even need to think to know whose hand was on his back.
And when paired with their current posture…
Ye Li’s eyes darkened slightly.
As if under some kind of spell, he tilted his head forward a little, parted his thin lips, and gently bit down on the Adam’s apple in front of him.
The cold sensation and faint pain made Yan Shixun shudder. He nearly couldn’t stop himself from tossing the person in his arms away.
He gasped, “Hiss—!” inhaling sharply, then quickly raised his hand to steady Ye Li by the shoulders, pulling some distance between them.
“What are you doing?” Yan Shixun’s eyes were filled with shock and confusion. “You woke up and didn’t say anything—why the hell did you bite me?”
Ye Li released the skin between his teeth without resistance, allowing Yan Shixun to pull him back.
“Sorry.”
His voice was hoarse, but his expression didn’t change. “I was dizzy and lost my balance.”
Yan Shixun accepted the explanation.
After all, he himself had felt a little dizzy when he first opened his eyes just now. Ye Li was more severely injured than he was, and had only just woken up in his arms. Losing a sense of direction made perfect sense.
Yan Shixun kept his hands on Ye Li’s shoulders, preventing him from moving. “Don’t move, I’m checking if your back is injured.”
Ye Li relaxed as if exhausted and, like someone weak and frail, slumped into Yan Shixun’s chest.
His long, inky hair spilled over Yan Shixun’s body.
If someone else had seen this moment, they would’ve instinctively thought they were a loving couple.
Yan Shixun: “…”
He was just about to help Ye Li sit up when Ye Li spoke in a slightly weak voice, “I’m dizzy. I can’t sit upright.”
Yan Shixun’s hand froze midair.
He didn’t like being in close physical contact with people.
But from the traces around them and the posture they had awakened in, it wasn’t hard to deduce—Ye Li had shielded him from most of the impact.
Ye Li had saved him, whether it was intentional or not.
He owed him for that.
And yet, when the other party had made such a simple and reasonable request—just wanting to lean on his shoulder because he was dizzy—if he refused even that… wouldn’t that make him seem too cold?
Yan Shixun hesitated for a moment, then sighed and lowered his hand. “Forget it. Just lean on me, then.”
From the angle where Yan Shixun couldn’t see, a smile appeared in Ye Li’s eyes. “Alright.”
As he spoke, his breath brushed against Yan Shixun’s neck, making Yan Shixun shift uncomfortably, even pausing his movements for a second.
Ye Li leaned his head against Yan Shixun’s firm shoulder and looked up, gazing at the clean line of Yan Shixun’s jaw.
He had never seen Yan Shixun from this angle before. It felt novel—and he was momentarily entranced.
Yan Shixun, on the other hand, was staring at the sharp piece of metal on the ground just inches away. A flicker of relief passed through his eyes.
Just a little more… That jagged shard, sliced from the car’s outer panel, would’ve pierced right into Ye Li’s back… Thank goodness.
After carefully examining twice, Yan Shixun finally confirmed that Ye Li’s back had indeed not been injured.
But for some reason, during the inspection, Ye Li’s breath grew heavier several times beside his ear, as if he were forcing himself to endure something.
Yan Shixun couldn’t help but say, “If it hurts, just say so. Tell me where you’re injured.”
He thought Ye Li was enduring pain.
It took a moment before Ye Li responded with a faint, “Mm.”
Since he had confirmed there were no external injuries, Yan Shixun gently pushed Ye Li out of his arms and stood up from his half-kneeling position.
But as he bent down again, planning to help Ye Li up—still worried there might be internal injuries—he noticed Ye Li was staring at him intently, eyes fixed on his Adam’s apple.
Like a top-tier predator eyeing its prey, his gaze locked onto its throat, calculating the perfect strike for a swift kill—one the prey couldn’t resist.
Before Yan Shixun could get a clearer look, Ye Li blinked, and the look in his eyes returned to normal.
Once both of them stood up, they finally saw the full view of their surroundings.
Yan Shixun clearly remembered that it should only be afternoon right now, but everything around them had already fallen into complete darkness.
They were in the middle of nowhere, not a single human sound.
Only the howling wind sweeping through the mountain valleys, crying out like a chorus of ghosts wailing behind the rocks.
Thick clouds churned in the sky, and a cold, damp chill spread upward from the ground.
Behind the forest, a pair of lifeless eyes silently stared at the two of them.
Blood trickled down from above those eyes, the dried trails already oxidized. Only an occasional drop fell onto the eyeballs—but the eyes didn’t even blink, as if completely unresponsive.
Only one thought burned increasingly clear in that mind.
Kill…
Kill him… Kill him…
Yan Shixun had originally been worried about the people in the car. After such a violent crash, even he and Ye Li had sustained injuries—so the others were likely in worse condition.
But after checking the vehicle, Yan Shixun felt as if his heart had sunk straight to the bottom of the sea.
There was no one.
Not a single person remained in the car.
Zhang Wubing, Zhao Zhen, Jing Xiaobao… even the driver—there wasn’t a single trace of anyone.
All that remained were scattered personal belongings tossed about from the crash—complete chaos.
But Yan Shixun caught the faint scent of blood.
With sharp instincts, he leapt up and entered the car through a shattered window.
Since the car was flipped, he had to crouch low, awkwardly moving forward while tracking that faint bloody smell.
Then Yan Shixun discovered that there were tiny drops of blood around the seats where the guests had been sitting.
However, because the shaking had been so violent, the guests might not have even known where exactly they had fallen when they got injured, so it was impossible to determine who was hurt based on that alone.
There was even a section of a steel bar that had snapped, jagged like a sharp blade. If someone had been unlucky enough to crash into it, they probably would’ve died on the spot.
Yan Shixun stared at the bloodstains on that steel bar, a heavy weight pressing down on his heart.
He had originally planned to escape and call the person in charge, but after patting down all his pockets, he couldn’t find his phone. It had probably been flung out during the crash, and who knew where it had landed.
After all, at that moment he hadn’t even had time to care about himself—how could he possibly have worried about a phone?
So, Yan Shixun had no choice but to give up on that idea.
He tilted his head up and looked at the damage to the vehicle, then lifted his hand and began divining using the number of people missing and the number of shattered windows as clues.
Yan Shixun had wanted to ask where the missing guests had gone, how to find them, and whether they were injured. But unexpectedly, the result of the divination slowly caused his brows to furrow.
The hexagram said that Yan Shixun was wrong.
The guests hadn’t disappeared. They were right beside him.
Yan Shixun looked around, certain his eyes weren’t blind.
Usually, a hexagram would provide an answer to the question asked, and at the very least offer a general direction, telling the diviner where to go to find the answer.
But now, the hexagram told him—your basic premise is wrong.
This surprised Yan Shixun a bit.
He looked through the shattered car window at Ye Li, who was still outside, and said, “My divination came out wrong. Can you help me calculate it?”
Ye Li, however, surprisingly didn’t agree right away. He pressed his thin lips together and said, “When it comes to divination, I’m not as good as you.”
Yan Shixun was slightly shocked. “Doesn’t your sect teach divination?”
Ye Li’s tone was calm, but what he said would’ve shocked any cultivator in the world.
“I communicate directly with the Great Dao of Heaven and Earth.”
Divination was a method used by humans to communicate with the heavens. Through techniques left behind by brilliant and extraordinary individuals, later generations of cultivators could, by borrowing the channels created by those geniuses, glimpse the truths once seen by those favored by the Dao.
Only through this could a person seeking answers find what they were looking for.
But Ye Li didn’t need such methods.
Whether in life or in death, he had always preferred a more direct approach to getting what he wanted.
He hadn’t lied to Yan Shixun.
Although he knew a bit about divination, it couldn’t compare to someone like Yan Shixun, who specialized in the art.
“Besides, I’m currently injured.”
Ye Li didn’t forget to maintain the image of his weakness, reminding Yan Shixun of his current condition. “Because of the Evil Spirit Bone Transformation, it’s suppressing me heavily. After you injured me, my communication with Heaven and Earth hasn’t been as smooth.”
“Let me recover a bit, then I’ll help you.”
Ye Li’s expression was natural, and his words didn’t seem fake at all.
—But which part was real and which part was fake, only he himself knew.
Still, being held in Yan Shixun’s arms under the pretense of being “injured” was something Ye Li truly desired.
Yan Shixun didn’t seem to care. He simply nodded, took another look around the mangled wreckage of the car, and prepared to leave.
But just as he turned around, he suddenly sensed something strange.
It felt like… something…
was watching him.
Yan Shixun stopped mid-step and pulled his foot back. His expression turned serious as he crouched down and began methodically searching the area, determined to find whatever had just triggered his alarm.
The ground was littered with shattered vehicle parts and the personal belongings of the guests. Sifting through the mess to find the one item that felt out of place was going to take some time.
As Yan Shixun pushed aside a ball of tangled clothing with his long fingers, he was suddenly met with the sight of an eyeball.
The eyeball had already been separated from its body. The surrounding tissue was jagged and uneven, blood vessels still attached, though the blood had long since stopped flowing.
The lifeless pupil stared straight at Yan Shixun.
A chill ran through him, but he quickly regained his composure.
He pulled a handkerchief from his coat pocket, wrapped the eyeball carefully, picked it up, and without changing his expression, raised it to signal Ye Li.
“Ye Li, hold this for me.”
Since the car had overturned, the only way in or out was through the windows now facing upward. Carrying something else would limit his movement.
Besides, he didn’t want to risk damaging the eyeball.
Something about it felt wrong.
Ye Li lifted his hand slightly and caught the eyeball steadily.
Lowering his gaze, he calmly looked at the eye that stared back at him, his face showing no hint of emotion.
Yan Shixun quickly propped himself against the car window and nimbly flipped out of the vehicle.
As he took the handkerchief-wrapped eyeball back from Ye Li, a gust of wind brought with it a faint, gamey smell of lamb that reached his nose.
His expression immediately turned strange.
That scent wasn’t coming from either of them.
Yan Shixun was highly sensitive to his surroundings. If there had been such a strong smell of lamb in the air earlier, he would’ve noticed it instantly.
But back in the van, he hadn’t smelled anything of the sort.
What had filled the vehicle instead was the overwhelming scent of Bai Shuang’s perfume.
This meant that the eyeball hadn’t been in the car from the start—or wherever it had been originally, it had carried with it the smell of lamb.
Or perhaps…
Yan Shixun examined the tissue around the eyeball again. Upon seeing the rough, frayed fibers, he understood.
Most likely, the eyeball had been forcibly gouged out with a knife.
And that knife had previously been used to chop lamb.
It had to be a dull, heavy blade.
Not the kind of high-grade stainless steel kitchen knife people in the city bought at supermarkets—but more like the kind of cleaver used for farm work.
Did this happen in a village?
Yan Shixun lowered his eyes to meet the unblinking gaze of the eyeball.
Still, there was one thing that eased his mind.
This eyeball didn’t belong to any of the guests.
He didn’t know what had happened to the person it came from or why it had ended up here, but at least there was no bad news about the guests for now.
No news was, in a way, good news.
Yan Shixun calmly rewrapped the eyeball and slipped it into his coat pocket.
“Let’s go see where the others are.”
The two of them walked side by side, their shadows overlapping on the ground.
On impulse, Ye Li reached out and held Yan Shixun’s hand.
When Yan Shixun looked at him, Ye Li said with a straight face, “I’m feeling a bit dizzy—afraid I might fall.”
Yan Shixun: “…”
Fine.
After all, he had used Ye Li as a human cushion during the crash. Ye Li had gotten injured because of him. It would be heartless to refuse such a small gesture now.
Meanwhile, behind them, the main live broadcast screen fixed inside the car was still diligently working according to the parameters pre-set by the staff, continuing to stream the scene.
However, due to the intense impact of the crash, some components of the broadcast equipment had been damaged. The footage occasionally flickered with dark shadows and trembled violently, as if it might cut out at any moment.
When the crash happened, viewers had seen the camera spin wildly, as if they themselves were experiencing the wreck, holding their breath from sheer tension. The barrage of “Ahhhh!!!” in the live chat had flooded the screen.
Once the shaky footage finally steadied, viewers stared, dumbfounded, at the empty car cabin.
Everyone had vanished.
The crash had been serious, but only a few minutes had passed. How could every single person disappear?
Never mind whether the guests were injured—just the disorienting spin of the camera would’ve taken a while to recover from. How could they all have left in mere minutes?
Many viewers, worried that the guests might be hurt, were nearly in tears.
[I’m totally freaking out. Where’s Bai Shuang? Where’s Lu Xingxing? Why is nobody here?]
[No matter what happened, they couldn’t have run off that quickly… What the hell just happened? We never even left the feed, so how did everything change in the blink of an eye?]
[Damn, how could the crash be this bad? I’m seriously worried about everyone.]
[Just watching the camera made me nauseous—imagine what it was like for those in the crash. And with the momentum throwing the body around, anything could turn into a deadly weapon. Even broken glass could kill.]
[Ahhhh!! Stop talking about it, I’m freaking out! Someone please, anyone, tell me they’re all okay!]
[I hope they’re fine, but… honestly, it’s not looking good. I had a car crash last year. Rolled over several times. Both arms and legs fractured, cracked ribs and spinal injury. Still getting migraines from the concussion. I just hope they’re okay and don’t go through what I did.]
[W-Wait! I think there’s someone in the car!]
A sharp-eyed viewer spotted a figure slowly emerging in the dim light of the cabin.
He sat in one of the seats, posture perfectly upright, hands and feet together. But his head was bowed, hiding his face.
At first, the viewers cheered, relieved that someone was still there—maybe the others were okay too.
But then, they began to notice something off.
Since the vehicle had flipped, the seats were now tilted ninety degrees—essentially stuck on the “wall.” In that kind of angle, it should’ve been impossible for anyone to sit there upright, looking so normal and relaxed.
Their eyes slowly drifted down his legs. Then, someone suddenly realized—
[Why are his heels off the ground like that? He’s been tiptoeing the whole time?]
The cheers abruptly died.
Viewers, belatedly, started to realize…
Something was very wrong with this person who had suddenly appeared.
[This is ridiculous! Can any of you demonstrate sitting on a wall while holding a chair? Unless you’re a magician or a martial arts master, no normal person could possibly do that, right?]
[No, even a magician or martial arts master couldn’t do it… Don’t underestimate Earth’s gravity. Even if someone had peerless martial skills and could sit on a wall, their clothes and hair would still fall vertically downward. But look closely—this person’s hair and clothes aren’t hanging down at all.]
[Doesn’t this person look familiar to you? I just saw a crash on Brother Yan’s split screen and came over here to take a look. Earlier, in Brother Yan’s view, there was someone standing in front of the car. It was because the driver tried to swerve around him that the vehicle flipped. I didn’t get a clear look at the guy’s face, but I really think… it looked like this person.]
[Me too… I saw the figure standing in the middle of the road from Brother Yan’s screen. That’s why I was so freaked out the moment this guy appeared.]
[What the hell?? For real? Ugh… I’ve got goosebumps. The more I think about it, the scarier it gets.]
No matter how anxious the audience was, they couldn’t cross the screen to help those at the scene—they could only watch helplessly.
But the person they had been discussing suddenly moved.
It was as if he heard something. His body swayed slightly, then he slowly lifted his head and looked straight ahead.
Exactly in the direction of the main livestream camera.
And because of that, the viewers got a clear look at his face.
That young man’s face was covered in over a dozen knife wounds!
Flesh mangled, the gashes were so deep that bone was visible in places. Pieces of torn skin hung in strips, even exposing slivers of white bone beneath.
The crisscrossing cuts nearly divided his entire face, making it look like a patchwork doll stitched together by force.
Blood trickled from the wounds, flowing beneath his eyeballs like blood-stained tears weeping in silence.
Even his eyes were bloodied and obscured, surrounded by rough knife scars.
It looked like someone had repeatedly carved around his eyes with a knife, deepening the wounds with each cut, savoring the agony of a living person screaming in pain.
The viewers gasped in unison, completely stunned.
None of them had expected the man’s face to be in such a horrific state—his original features were beyond recognition.
[Who… who the hell could be so cruel? Who would do something like this? Are they even human? This is on par with those ancient ten tortures!]
[Oh my god… it’s like someone stitched this face together with thread and needle—how is he even still alive?]
[Didn’t we all see it just now? His feet weren’t even touching the ground. Who walks like that? Maybe… maybe he’s already dead…]
As the viewers speculated wildly, the man slowly rose from his seated position.
But as he leaned forward slightly—perhaps moving too quickly—there was a soft *plop*.
A piece of bloody flesh fell from his face.
Viewers who saw this with their own eyes: [……?]
Someone asked in confusion: [Did something just fall off just now?]
But soon, no one asked anymore.
Even the live chat screen went completely still in that instant.
—The man lifted his head again, and under the camera, his face came into full view—dripping with fresh blood.
Like a rag doll that had once been stitched together but was now torn apart, his face, where his eyes should have been, had become two bloody holes.
His eyeballs had fallen from their sockets.
Along with the surrounding flesh, they dropped from his face, turning the entire area around his eyes into a bloody mess.
At a glance, it looked like he had cried tears of blood—filled with hatred and sorrow.
The two dark, gaping holes stared straight at the camera.
The viewers collectively gasped, the sight sending chills up their spines. Even if they were at home or at school, they felt the cold seep through their screens and into their bodies.
Even standing in a crowd, even under the blazing sun, they felt icy cold—like falling into a frozen pit.
They wanted to shut off the stream, but to their horror, they realized their muscles had gone stiff. They clutched their phones tightly, unable to move their hands to press the exit button. They could only stare—forced into a deadlock with those two hollow, bloody sockets.
Boundless terror consumed them.
It was like drowning—desperately searching for air, but finding no way to reach the surface.
Just then, Yan Shixun’s voice suddenly rang out from off-camera.
And in that instant, the figure on the screen vanished.
The chilling air around the viewers dissipated.
They felt like they had just run a marathon—completely limp, sliding out of their chairs into a heap on the floor.
Viewer: a dead fish now, please do not disturb.
Many burst into tears of relief, watching Yan Shixun leap down from above like a divine being descending from the heavens.
[The one I love will ride a multicolored cloud and descend from the sky to save me. I believe it now—*sob*! Brother Yan is literally god-tier at this moment!]
[It’s amazing. The moment Brother Yan appeared, I instantly felt warm again. I was shivering just now, it was so cold.]
[I was slacking off at work watching the stream, sitting right under the blazing sun, and I still felt so terrified…]
Soon, viewers from other split screens rushed in: [News!! The people you couldn’t find on the main screen have appeared in the split screens!]
The audience stirred immediately: [Seriously?! That’s amazing!]
[I’ve never been more grateful that Director Zhang Wubing added split screens—otherwise I would’ve died from the stress.]
[Ahhh my Brother Nanyuan!]
…
A lone figure had been walking along the highway for a long time.
He carried a backpack in his hand. What started as angry muttering had turned into heavy panting, but no familiar landmarks ever came into view.
The middle-aged man wiped the sweat from his forehead.
But his hand came away dry—not a drop of sweat on it.
He didn’t notice this, only looked around in puzzlement. “What the hell’s going on? Feels like I’ve been walking forever—am I lost?”
He was very familiar with this road. By now, he should’ve reached the highway entrance and been on his way home.
But something felt off. He had the sense that he’d been walking for a very long time—yet he still hadn’t reached the end.
He glanced left and right, muttering curses under his breath: “Those bastards thought they were so high and mighty just ’cause they’ve got some damn money. Talked to me like that and didn’t even take me with them!”
“If it weren’t for them, would I have ended up walking this long?”
“Damn rich folks, it’s their fault I’m poor—they took all the money. If those college kids hadn’t gotten into university, maybe I’d have had a shot too.”
As he spoke, he glanced down at the hiking bag in his hand, then spat disdainfully and sneered, “College students, huh? What good are they anyway?”
In the darkness, a fierce wind howled like furious spirits.
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