Zhang Rantian let out a bloodcurdling scream. Though both his eyes were blinded, he still managed to lock onto Hugo's direction. Enduring the searing pain, Zhang Rantian seized Hugo by the collar with one hand while thrusting the dagger toward his body with the other. I sensed something was wrong and charged at Zhang Rantian, gripping a crossbow bolt tightly.
But I was too far away. Even if I ran at full speed, Hugo would be dead before I got there.
At that critical moment, Zhang Rantian suddenly let out another howl of pain. His body contorted unnaturally. Sun Fatty and Crow had flanked him from behind—Crow gripped the dagger-wielding hand tightly while Sun Fatty, dagger in hand, stabbed with all his might at Zhang Rantian's lower back. He focused each strike on the same spot. Though his blade couldn't pierce Zhang Rantian's skin, the repeated blows caused a pain no less excruciating than losing his sight.
Taking advantage of the chaos, Hugo unfastened his buttons and slipped out from under his own clothes bare-chested. Zhang Rantian roared in rage, flung Crow aside with a swing of his arm, then kicked Sun Fatty square in the chest. The heavy-set man shot off like a kite with a broken string, crashing into a wall over ten meters away before collapsing to the ground. The impact knocked him out cold.
Now completely blind, Zhang Rantian spun in circles at the center of the plaza, howling non-stop, as if refusing to believe this was how things had turned out. After spinning dozens of times, he suddenly fell silent. He stopped moving, tilted his head, seemingly deep in thought.
By now, I was already running toward where Sun Fatty had fallen. But just a few steps in, I heard Yang Jun shout, "Don't move! He's using echolocation!"
Too late.
Before Yang Jun could even finish his warning, Zhang Rantian had already reached me.
The dagger he held was still Hugo's. As he raised it toward me, I faintly heard someone sigh. Then a bizarre scene unfolded—Zhang Rantian's left foot caught his right. Because he had sprinted over at such speed, he tripped hard and went flying sideways, slamming into the ground.
I had no time to think. Seizing the chance, I quickly and quietly made my way to where Sun Fatty lay. His eyes were shut tight and he remained motionless, but thankfully, he didn't seem to be in immediate danger. Miraculously, despite still gripping his dagger tightly, he hadn't injured himself in the fall.
I pried open his fingers and took the dagger from his hand. Looking back at Zhang Rantian, I saw him rise again, roaring and waving the dagger wildly at the empty air. None of us dared make a sound, for fear of drawing his attention. After a flurry of blind slashes, Zhang Rantian slowly calmed down.
Meanwhile, Hugo had withdrawn to Yang Jun's side. The success of the sneak attack had clearly left him exhilarated. He gave Yang Jun a nod and a thumbs-up, shaking it smugly in the air. Yang Jun seemed puzzled by the gesture, but given the circumstances, he said nothing.
The plaza was dead silent now. Other than the occasional sounds of Zhang Rantian stumbling around, there was almost no movement. Just as the tense standoff continued, a bulge suddenly appeared under the front of Sun Fatty's shirt. Something squirmed erratically beneath the fabric, until finally a rodent-like head poked out through a buttonhole. The creature clambered up onto Sun Fatty's face and gently pawed at his cheeks with its tiny front claws.
Seeing that Sun Fatty didn't respond, the creature opened its mouth and let out a shrill, piercing screech, revealing four full rows of sharp teeth: "Squeak! Squeak! Squeak!…"
The Wealth Rat had suddenly gone berserk.
Cold sweat instantly broke out all over my body. It was too late to stop it now—Zhang Rantian had already turned in our direction and was slowly making his way over. Though his steps were unhurried, his head swiveled constantly, listening to every sound around him. He was getting closer and closer. Sun Fatty was still unconscious and couldn't move. If it came to it, I would have to be the one to draw Zhang Rantian away. All thanks to this damn oversized rat—I couldn't help but feel a wave of frustrated resentment.
But before I could make a sound to distract Zhang Rantian, the Wealth Rat had already spotted him approaching. It lifted its head, spun in a small circle, and let out another burst of crazed squealing. Realizing something was wrong, I lunged to grab it—but I was too slow.
Like a bolt of lightning, the Wealth Rat shot straight at Zhang Rantian.
In the blink of an eye, it had scurried to his feet and began climbing up his body. Zhang Rantian, blind as he was, swiped at it several times but missed. In a flash, the rat had reached his shoulder, then slid down his back to the center of his spine.
Zhang Rantian frantically clawed behind him, trying to grab it. Just as he was about to catch hold of it, the Wealth Rat suddenly bit down on one of his fingers.
There was no way a tiny rat could bite through his finger.
In that instant, I thought: That's it. The damn rat is done for. Zhang Rantian had been desperate for an outlet for his fury, and now the Wealth Rat had delivered itself right into his hands. Sun Fatty had pinned all his hopes of fortune on this thing—but it looked like it was about to meet its end right here.
But what happened next was something I could never have imagined, not even in my worst nightmare. Zhang Rantian let out a blood-curdling scream, and the arm that the Wealth rat had bitten retracted with lightning speed. His index finger was clearly missing a segment. The Wealth rat then spat out a blackened piece of finger from its bulging mouth.
Zhang Rantian's eyes had suffered too much—he didn't dare approach the Wealth rat again. But that didn't mean the rat would let him go. With jaws wide open, the rat lunged and bit down hard on Zhang Rantian's upper back. He howled in pain as a chunk of skin was ripped from him. But the rat wasn't done. Its hind legs braced firmly against Zhang Rantian's back, and its front claws thrust straight into the wound.
The sound was like metal scraping glass. The Wealth rat tore off a matchbox-sized chunk of flesh from Zhang Rantian's back. I was completely stunned. Before I could process what I was seeing, Yang Jun's cold voice snapped me out of it: "Shen La, are you just going to watch? Or are you waiting for the Nyeh to stab that short sword into his heart for you?"
As Yang Jun spoke, Zhang Rantian's situation took another turn. Seemingly deaf to Yang's words, and unwilling to grab the rat with his hands, Zhang Rantian instead leapt into the air, arching his body backward mid-flight. With a thud, he landed hard on his back.
At the moment of impact, the Wealth rat slipped out from between his back and the ground. It darted several meters away, stopped in front of Zhang Rantian, and began squeaking in what could only be described as mockery. Zhang Rantian rose slowly, ears twitching, his full attention locked on the rat. He turned his back to me, completely exposing himself.
It was a gift from heaven.
Barefoot and gripping the short sword, I crept forward silently. The Wealth rat, no ordinary beast, had already noticed me and began squeaking more frantically. Zhang Rantian, blind and wary, dared not turn his back on the rat and remained locked in cautious standoff.
I approached, five meters away now. Still, Zhang Rantian hadn't noticed me. At that moment, a flash of lightning lit up the dome overhead. Though blind, Zhang Rantian still sensed the brilliance. In that split second, I charged forward and plunged the short sword into the torn, exposed flesh on his back—where the rat had ripped open his skin.
The moment the blade pierced his flesh, Zhang Rantian let out a furious roar and spun around. The hollow sockets of his ruined eyes locked on me. There was something unspeakably eerie about those empty, bleeding holes. Two-thirds of the blade had buried into his body, but the hilt hit bone and became stuck.
As I tried to flee, Zhang Rantian's hand shot up and seized me by the throat.
He yanked me close, sneering, "My eyes are gone. I'll borrow yours." With that, he reached up, fingers brushing across my face. Then he thrust two fingers toward my eye sockets.
Terror surged in me. I struggled but couldn't break free. His fingers were already on the rims of my eyes, just one push away from gouging them out.
Suddenly, a figure appeared behind Zhang Rantian. That person grabbed the hilt of the embedded short sword and pushed it deeper into Zhang's back.
"AAAHH!" Zhang Rantian screamed in agony. As he reached back to grab whoever had done it, a bolt of lightning pierced through the sea above and struck his head directly.
The jolt coursed through him, passed along his arm, and into me. I could smell my own flesh burning. Just when I thought I was done for, another explosion sounded behind Zhang Rantian. The man who had stabbed him was electrocuted by the lightning that had traveled through the blade, sparks bursting from his body as he was flung ten meters away.
As soon as he was thrown, the current in my own body abruptly vanished. Zhang Rantian, too, had reached his limit. He staggered and collapsed to the ground.
I fell beside him, completely paralyzed. My limbs refused to move. All I could do was stare blankly ahead. Through the stormy flickers of lightning above, I saw Hao Zhengyi and the Crow supporting Yang Jun as they approached. In a flash of light, I finally saw who had pushed the blade deeper into Zhang Rantian.
It was the Bureau's foreign ally—Nicolas Hugo. He too lay on the ground, twitching violently from the shock.
Although I didn't believe that lightning alone would be enough to kill Zhang Rantian, I didn't expect that in less than a minute, the scorched figure on the floor suddenly twitched again. Then, slowly and unsteadily, Zhang propped himself up on all fours.
At that moment, a large, round figure bolted past me. It was Sun Fatty. He had been playing dead again—his usual trick, and I had fallen for it once more.
Despite the serious injuries he had suffered earlier, he now had the strength to charge across the floor. Just as he reached Zhang Rantian, he leapt into the air and slammed his huge butt directly onto Zhang's back.
With a sickening plop, the short sword was driven all the way to the hilt into Zhang Rantian's heart.
Zhang began to convulse erratically.
Sun Fatty picked up Hugo's fallen flashlight, shone it over me, and said, "La Zi, Director Yu—you two can stop pretending now. You call that 'playing dead'? Just twitching a few times? That's not acting. You've got a long way to go."
I rolled my eyes at his commentary. If not for the lingering numbness in my body, I would've cursed him out on the spot. Seeing my condition, Sun Fatty turned to Hao Zhengyi, the Crow, and Yang Jun. "Come on, boys, give me a hand. Let's move Zhang Rantian."
Yang Jun frowned. "Where are you taking him?"
Sun Fatty looked briefly surprised, then gestured to the spot directly below the seafloor. "Right there." Without another word, he grabbed one of Zhang's legs. Though puzzled, the others sensed Sun Fatty had a plan and helped lift the rest of Zhang's charred corpse, carrying it to the indicated spot.
The moment Zhang Rantian touched the ground, the water above the dome turned murky. It began to churn, spinning into a vortex. At the heart of the whirlpool—directly aligned with Zhang Rantian's body.
Seeing this, Sun Fatty yelped and scrambled back to us with the others.
They had barely steadied themselves when a bolt of lightning shot down through the vortex. This strike was far more powerful than anything we'd seen before—blindingly bright and almost impossible to look at.
The giant bolt hit the short sword in Zhang Rantian's back, sending his body flying before it slammed back to the ground. Then came the second strike. Then a third. A fourth. The bolts kept coming—one after another—until we lost count.
By the time the lightning stopped and calm returned to the sea above, Zhang Rantian no longer resembled a human being. Smoke curled off his body. His limbs had been burned away. What remained was nothing but a smoldering chunk of charcoal.
After lying there for some time, Hugo and I finally managed to get up, shivering and unsteady. We looked at the devastation before us, then at each other. Just thinking about what we'd been through made our spines go cold.
Supporting each other, we stumbled over to join Sun Fatty and Yang Jun.
"Yang," I muttered, "next time there's a move that dangerous—how about you do it yourself?"
"Yeah," Hugo added. "For God's sake, you nearly sent me to heaven ahead of schedule."
Yang Jun looked genuinely confused. "What are you talking about?"
Our frustration boiled over. "Weren't you the one who told me to stab Zhang Rantian from behind?"
"You said to use the cross on his eyes," Hugo said, his voice rising. "That cross is a holy relic! That was sacrilege, man! Yang, don't deny it—God heard everything!"
Sun Fatty seemed to catch on. After we both spoke, he squinted at Yang Jun and asked, "Big Yang… seriously, aren't you going to tell me what's really going on?"
Hao Zhengyi and the Crow exchanged glances. They clearly had things to say, but as usual, Hao—ever composed—seemed content to let the rest of us bicker.
Just as Yang Jun's pale face started to flush red, the Crow suddenly trembled. He spun around, staring at Zhang Rantian's ruined body. "He's not dead…"
All our heads turned in unison.
The smoke around Zhang Rantian's body had mostly dispersed. From what remained of his face, the hole that had once been a mouth was now opening and closing—like he was speaking.
The Crow's expression darkened. "He's saying, 'Sorry. Just one more step. Just one step away. I'm sorry… I'm sorry…'"
At first, we were confused. Then we realized—the Crow was mimicking Zhang's mouth movements. And based on how accurate he sounded… he had somehow understood it.
Ghost speech, at least, Yang Xiao could interpret—that much we knew. But Zhang Rantian's lips and tongue had been completely burned away. For the Crow to read his intentions just from the way that burned-out mouth opened and shut… now that was something.
Zhang Rantian continued whispering apologies to the air. Yang Jun stared coldly at him and raised my short sword. He began tracing slow, deliberate arcs through the air. As he did, a low hum began to rise, growing louder with each pass.
The air around the blade began to warp and twist. The sword moved slower and slower, but the sound it emitted grew sharper and sharper—until even Yang Jun's figure seemed to distort.
Watching him work so methodically, I couldn't help but feel anxious.
Apparently, Sun Fatty felt the same. He sighed, shook his head, and muttered, "Big Yang, not to criticize or anything, but if you had a trick like this up your sleeve, why didn't you use it back in the dark chamber to finish Zhang off in the first place?"