Chapter 22

Tap, tap, tap.

Silver leather shoes pattered across the wooden floor, following behind Jiang Wu.

The hallway motion-sensor lights flickered on.

The blood pooled across the floor seemed to truly emanate a rusty, metallic stench.

Jiang Wu pushed open the bedroom door.

The little girl stood on her tiptoes and expertly flipped on the light.

It was a fairytale-style princess room. A soft white wool carpet covered the floor. A green and white gingham lace duvet was fluffy and soft, accompanied by a carrot plushie and a green broccoli plushie.

On the bedside table sat a carousel. Warm yellow light strips cast dancing shadows against the wall. Six gilded little wooden horses spun merrily, the melody of the Emperor Waltz echoing through the room.

A teru teru bozu doll hanging by the headboard beamed with a huge smile.

And right now, a torrential downpour raged outside the window.

Jiang Wu glanced at the Headless Little Girl beside him and stepped into the bedroom, meticulously observing everything inside.

Just then, the music ended. The lights abruptly dimmed. A second later, they flickered back on, but the warm, spring-like room had vanished. In its place was a chamber thick with the stench of blood.

The carrot plushie, the green broccoli plushie, the smiling teru teru bozu doll—all were splattered with fresh blood.

The bathtub had overflowed, water dripping and spreading across the floor. Suddenly, a hand grabbed Jiang Wu’s. It was short, chubby, ice-cold, and slick with blood—

The little girl craned her neck, weeping. “Mister, did you find my head?”

Jiang Wu lowered his gaze. He took her hand in his. His voice, cutting through the storm, was calm and gentle. “I found it.”

He crouched down, facing the headless body, and asked softly, “Can I borrow your doll for a moment?”

The little girl hesitated. Then, she bowed her neck and gave Jiang Wu’s hand a quiet squeeze. It was warm and dry—like a father’s hand, a mother’s hand, or an older brother’s or sister’s hand.

Mumbling, she said, “Then you have to be really careful, okay? Don’t break her. She’s my favorite doll!”

She dragged the doll over and handed it to Jiang Wu. “Here!”

Jiang Wu smiled. “Thank you.”

He looked down, holding the doll by its absurdly large head. He grabbed both of the doll’s cheeks and pulled in opposite directions with a firm yank.

With a crisp tearing sound, the doll’s face split open. Jiang Wu’s fingers parted the fluffy cotton stuffing. His fingertip first touched a patch of delicate, soft skin.

After a few seconds’ pause, the corner of Jiang Wu’s eye twitched. He pulled out a clump of cotton.

And then he saw it.

A round little face, eyes wide with terror, tears still clinging to its cheeks.

In those large, jet-black eyes reflected the visage of a man—missing one eye, half his face burned beyond recognition.

Suddenly, a series of thunderclaps boomed. The lights were snuffed out, plunging the room into darkness. Lightning flashed incessantly outside. The entire room began to shake, and the little girl’s voice grew more and more distant. “Mister, run!”

“No running away now.”

Another voice, sinisterly cold, echoed out.

The room steadied and lit up again.

But it was no longer the princess room. It was a massive sand pit. And there were no lights—

Only two glowing, red eyes the size of lightbulbs!

A towering, fiery-red giant python loomed before Jiang Wu. Its head scraped the ceiling. Its body was several times wider than Jiang Wu himself. Unlike an ordinary snake, its hide was covered in a dense layer of crimson scales, like a fish. Its thick, massive tail coiled in several loops within the sand.

Right now, the Red-Scaled Giant Python flicked its long, forked tongue, staring down at Jiang Wu with glowing red eyes. Drool dripped from the corners of its mouth.

The drool was even bigger and rounder than the braised eggs Jiang Wu ate for his extra meals.

“…” Jiang Wu’s lips moved. For the first time, he wanted to curse.

Without a second thought, he grabbed the doll and spun around.

But the moment he turned, Jiang Wu stopped. This was a sealed pit. There was no escape.

The Red-Scaled Giant Python let out a laugh brimming with overconfidence. “You entered my territory. You won’t escape.”

Jiang Wu gently placed the doll on the ground. He lowered his eyes, tracking the python’s shadow across the sand from his peripheral vision. Then, he spun around and charged at the python, throwing a punch straight at its abdomen.

The python was caught off guard—or perhaps it never imagined Jiang Wu had the strength to topple it. Pain shot through its belly. It collapsed thunderously into the sand, kicking up a massive cloud of dust.

Seizing the chance, Jiang Wu pulled a fountain pen from his pocket, uncapped it, and nimbly straddled the python’s body. In the dim red glow, he precisely found the python’s seven-inch spot. Gripping the pen tightly, he stabbed down with all his might.

Crack!

The pen snapped in two, flying from Jiang Wu’s grip. His entire right hand was ripped and bloodied by the scales.

The python’s vulnerable spot was also covered in thick, solid scales, sharper than any blade.

A searing pain wracked Jiang Wu’s palm. Most of the skin was sliced open, with only a small strip still clinging to the flesh, dangling in the air. Transparent blood gushed out, dripping onto the python’s body.

The python roared, its gut wracked with pain. Its body writhed furiously, hurling Jiang Wu away. He crashed heavily into the sand, a muffled grunt of pain escaping his lips.

The python reared up again. Its mouth gaped open, revealing rows of cold, razor-sharp fangs. A muffled voice rumbled from its throat. “Interesting. Not an ordinary Human.”

The impact sent a brief wave of unconsciousness through Jiang Wu, but he was clear-headed again in a second.

He clenched his sticky, mangled palm, trying to hold the precariously hanging flesh in place. His eyes locked onto the python, wary of another lunge, while he simultaneously scanned his surroundings.

There was no sign of anything.

Jiang Wu’s heart gave a panicked skip.

Had he guessed wrong? Was Lu Sheng not—

The dim red sand pit abruptly flared with light. The python’s two red lightbulb eyes blazed as it lunged at Jiang Wu with ferocious speed.

Jiang Wu was paralyzed with pain, eyes wide open as he watched that row of icy fangs close in. At that very moment, a calm, deep voice sounded in his ear. “Its fatal point is not at the seven-inch spot. It’s the tongue.”

The tongue!

Without a shred of hesitation, as the python’s bloody maw lunged right before his face, Jiang Wu suddenly surged up. He grabbed the snake’s tongue with both hands and yanked it apart with all his strength.

With a visceral tearing sound, the elongated, crimson tongue split in two, spraying red blood.

“Aaagh!” The Red-Scaled Giant Python shrieked in panic and agony. Its tail lashed out, smashing heavily into Jiang Wu. But Jiang Wu still didn’t let go. With brute force, he ripped the two strips of tongue out from the root, backpedaling as he flew backward. Just when he thought he would smash into the sand again, he fell into a broad, ice-cold embrace.

Ahead, after its agonized wail, the python’s two red lightbulb eyes dimmed, turning black. Then, its rigid body instantly went limp. It collapsed, strengthless, into the sand pit—a massive heap, completely motionless.

Only then did the tension drain from Jiang Wu’s rigid spine. A steady, powerful heartbeat thumped in his ear. He tilted his head up. In the fading glow of the light, Lu Sheng’s jawline was just like his embrace—cold, sharp, and utterly devoid of any warmth.

And yet…

He had saved him. Again.

His voice hoarse, Jiang Wu asked, “Lord Ghost Emperor, do you have your phone on you?”

Lu Sheng’s tone was flat. “What for.”

The pain in his palm was excruciating. Jiang Wu sucked in a breath. “To call the police. There should be a reward for catching the murderer.”

Lu Sheng’s eyelid twitched ever, ever so slightly.