Chapter 59

Before his words had even finished falling, it was as if the dark tides of the night surged with the phases of the moon, hissing sounds echoing from every direction.

Lin Shanyan first spotted six or seven pairs of scarlet eyes, then made out the snake bodies of varied colors.

They had long noticed his scent, merely restraining their urges without striking rashly.

“Only the Blessed Recipient won’t do,” Elder Zhang grabbed the iron chain binding his hands and yanked the man toward the altar. “Release all the snakes! Every snake tamed by our doctrine deserves to ascend to humanity in this blood sacrifice, escaping the suffering of the six paths of reincarnation!”

Since Immortal Tong, he seemed to hold the most authority in the cult.

Dozens trailed at a distance behind him, while several subordinates fetched snake cages, preparing to unleash even those undomesticated wild beasts.

Lin Shanyan walked slowly, tugged impatiently by the man.

The youth wore a vacant expression, as if still under the toxin’s control, lost in hallucinatory drifts.

When would Meng Duimo notice something was wrong?

Or should he find a way to fly out and seek help?

On the third floor above, every partition except the load-bearing walls had been demolished clean.

This abandoned complex had fallen into decay and gloom after the developer fled and no one else took over management, left to time’s erosion.

But this floor had even its outer walls stripped away, like a barren island suddenly suspended in mid-air.

The irregularly scattered load-bearing walls resembled iron skewers on a platter, dark red paint scrawling mottled, curling ring patterns—neither Daoist nor Buddhist—radiating outward from the empty center like a three-headed serpent baring bloody maws, slithering in all directions.

At their intersections stood five charcoal basins, seven beast altars, and nine sacrificial lamps fueled by the fat of the dead.

Lin Shanyan had seen a few cult sites before and thought his tolerance decent, but his throat tightened at the sight of those lamps, his face turning ashen.

Each of the nine lamps was made from different birds or snakes, their blood marrow and fat twisted into wicks, impaled on iron spikes like specimens, flickering with ghostly flames.

The acrid smoke from the cheap charcoal, the rancid stench of wild beast oil, and the damp chill of paint and dust all mingled together.

Pale-faced, Lin Shanyan covered his mouth and nose, leaning against a wall to steady his breathing as best he could.

“Scared? Filthy wretch, get over here!” the old man snarled. “Falling into our hands is your blessing!”

“Our cult gave you chances time and again to bring Immortal Tong and surrender. You think you’re so clear-headed? Deluded fool!”

He raised a hand, and a subordinate promptly brought over a blanket.

Dozens of snakes had trainedly climbed up with the crowd, mingled among them Snake Descendants and hordes of wild serpents.

The latter, habituated to the cultists’ succulent offerings, grew excited, hissing and flicking tongues ceaselessly.

A musty, dust-laden old wool blanket was flung over Lin Shanyan. A burly man nearby demonstratively rapped his rebar, warning, “Wings or no, you won’t fly out. See for yourself.”

“Bird-catching nets ready?” the elder asked uneasily. “Be thorough—the auspicious hour approaches. Don’t botch the ritual.”

Lin Shanyan drew a deep breath, scanning his surroundings.

Five or six men had already unfurled fisherman’s net contraptions, guarding against him turning bird and soaring free.

A dozen men, women, elderly, and children ringed them like market gawkers awaiting a spectacle.

He unfurled the long blanket crusted with dull blood filth and wrapped himself completely inside.

The 1.85-meter frame silently crumpled after a few seconds—utterly still.

The old man froze, snatched a nearby rebar, and jabbed hard through the felt.

The lump inside didn’t stir, as if even its breath had ceased.

A subordinate whistled sharply; a red-eyed Viper slithered over, poised to burrow in and probe.

The next instant, a shrill screech rent the air—the Viper torn asunder by talons before their eyes, blood spraying four feet wide!

A junior high kid shrieked. The snake handler whistled again, and dozens of serpents surged forward.

The felt flew open with a snap, blanking most sightlines.

An inky shadow darted through. Before the snakes could coil and strike, it flashed like lightning, piercing and slaying!

Like arrows shredding bamboo leaves sparse and thick, like a long blade cleaving drizzling gloom—in moments, snake bodies burst open, bellies blooming into blood flowers!

Elder Zhang screeched, “Bird-catching nets! Don’t run!! Net it!!”

From afar came the sudden whoosh of multiple ropes deploying. Before anyone could react, smoke grenades tumbled in.

The next second, piercing sirens and thick fog erupted together, infrared beams crisscrossing.

“SWAT Team! Hands on head, squat down!”

“Put down your weapons!! Last warning—put down your weapons!!”

The Laughing Falcon streaked through the thick fog like lightning, tossing its head back to swallow the freshly carved snake heart. Still unsatisfied, it let out another long howl.

Amid the chaos, people scattered in panic. Some blindly crashed into the altar, toppling it over, while others choked on the fumes, tears and snot streaming down their faces.

Elder Zhang clutched the steel rebar with both hands, eyes bloodshot as he cursed into the fog.

“Who! Which traitor was it!! How the hell did the cops get here!!! ”

He hadn’t even finished when a fierce gust slammed into him from the side. An iron-wall of a wing smacked him flat, sending him sprawling to the ground.

The rebar clattered across the floor, only to be pinned under the boot of a SWAT officer who rushed in right after.

“B1 Team! Fifth floor status!”

“Fourth and fifth floors secured! Requesting paramedics—multiple malnourished victims trapped here!”

The Laughing Falcon circled the sky once, snatching a fainted fat snake along the way before soaring off from the high-rise like a triumphant hunter.

It had just dropped to the second floor when its eyes met Meng Duimo’s. The man was stationed by the stairs, directing operations in a tight-lipped, stone-cold focus. Recognition hit him like a wave, softening his features for a split second—before his brows snapped back together.

Riding an updraft, the Laughing Falcon alighted on the fire escape window. It caught the man staring at the snake dangling from its beak and felt a twinge of exasperation.

Meng Duimo strode forward in two quick steps, thrusting out his right hand, tactical glove and all.

“Eating random crap again?”

The Laughing Falcon let go with obvious reluctance.

Scowling, Meng Duimo hurled the roadside wild snake away.

Little Bird craned its neck, eyes tracking the fat serpent’s entire arc, still peering to see where it landed.

Meng Duimo pinched its head lightly between two fingers.

“Look at me.”

“Do you have any idea how worried I was?” He sounded equal parts exasperated and amused. “You hurt? Need a doctor?”

The Laughing Falcon trilled lazily, signaling all clear.

“Go on home first,” Meng Duimo murmured. “OAC’s coming to mop up. Did you take out any snakes with neck rings?”

The Laughing Falcon shook its head.

As if. It had studied law, after all.

Besides, a picnic was a far cry from cannibalism.

Meng Duimo held out his hand. It hopped right into his palm.

A Laughing Falcon—noble and feral, moody as a Holstein Cat.

That palm, roughened by years of trigger time, glided over its forehead. His fingertips sifted through every feather, each stroke a stand-in for a warm kiss.

“Go home, Shanyan,” Meng Duimo whispered. “I’ll be back soon.”

The Flower Hawk gave a soft chirp and beat its wings, vanishing into the sky.

Only once it reclaimed the heights did Lin Shanyan realize just how far out in the sticks this place was.

He let out a regretful sigh.

Should’ve skipped the flight and bummed a ride on an OAC squad car.

Good thing the tailwinds cooperated. The trip home felt effortless, exhilarating.

Stuffed as he was, a pang of regret lingered.

No clue where that bunch had stashed his old phone—plenty of photos in the gallery left unbacked.

And that fat snake… its snowy-white belly had to taste divine.

The Laughing Falcon wove through the treetops’ emerald canopy and slipped into the half-open window of his little apartment.

Down below, kids trundled around in baby walkers. White-collar workers clutched delivery packages on their commute home. Old folks fanned themselves in the evening breeze along the roadside.

No one spotted the gorgeous bird slipping past.

Lin Shanyan shifted back to human form and beelined for the bathroom, scrubbing away the reek of blood and offal.

Exhaustion hit hard—no appetite for debriefing the day. Hair still dripping, he stumbled to the bedroom and face-planted into bed.

Nine p.m., and a knock dragged the young man back to semi-consciousness.

He yanked on a sleep shirt at random and shuffled to the door.

“Delivery?”

“It’s me.”

Lin Shanyan swung the door open. There stood Meng Duimo in the hallway’s warm yellow glow, weariness etched into his earnest gaze.

Lin Shanyan blinked, blurting, “Figured you’d be pulling an all-nighter.”

“Yeah.” Meng Duimo nodded. “Case is a mess—gotta head back to the station soon.”

“Took an hour off just to check on you. You holding up?”

Truth be told, Lin Shanyan looked better than holding up.

Freshly showered, he radiated the soft warmth of lily-of-the-valley. Fresh from sleep, his drowsy expression was all harmless ease.

Like a plush pillow begging to be scooped up and manhandled, the kind that made you want to steal extra kisses, consequences be damned.

Meng Duimo drank him in wordlessly, thoughts churning wild.

A few beats of eye contact, and Lin Shanyan reached out, looping both arms around his neck for a kiss.

Light as a breath.

Meng Duimo returned it just as softly.

Door cracked open—one inside the apartment, one lingering in the hall.

Simple. Warm. Lips brushing like their very first time.

Lin Shanyan pulled back after a few tender presses and nudged the door wide.

“Dinner? Only got frozen dumplings here.”

“Sounds good.”

A pot of water soon came to a boil, and the entire bag of cabbage dumplings was poured in.

Lin Shanyan held the spatula, staring blankly at the pot.

Meng Duimo watched the dumplings for a moment before snapping out of it, pulling his cracked phone from his pocket.

“The screen’s broken, but Bureau Chief Zhao said both you and the phone count as a work injury. He’ll compensate you with a tri-fold one later.”

Lin Shanyan had been half-asleep, but his eyes lit up at the sight of the phone. He nearly forgot to add cold water for the dumplings.

“You figured out something happened to me so quickly?” he finally asked. “Did you plant a bug on me or something?”

“After you got in the car, I felt a bit regretful,” Meng Duimo said. “We parted too hastily—I didn’t even get to ask if you’re free for dinner tomorrow night.”

“I called, and you were already off. That’s when I knew something was wrong.”

Their eyes met.

Lin Shanyan sighed softly. “Yeah… getting middle-of-the-night calls for overtime is par for the course in our line of work. Twenty-four-seven on call.”

They ate the dumplings quickly.

They hadn’t confirmed their relationship yet, nor had they asked what had happened earlier.

“Too late to take you in for a statement tonight. We’ll do it tomorrow.”

Meng Duimo casually washed the bowls and said, “Can I come stay tomorrow?”

Lin Shanyan replied, “If you want, you can come sleep here after your overtime tonight.”

The man’s hands paused mid-wash.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Lin Shanyan said. “I’ll stay up a bit, wait for you to come home.”

Meng Duimo looked at him. “Overtime will take at least another four or five hours.”

“While you’re waiting, you’ll miss me like crazy.”

Lin Shanyan laughed and pinched him.

The man just smiled, didn’t dodge, and leaned in close to his ear, murmuring warmly, “Can’t you coax me a little?”

“Say you’ll miss me a lot, wait for me to come back, and we’ll fall asleep together.”

Lin Shanyan said nothing, tilting his head up to kiss his forehead.

The kiss was feather-light, lingering and teasing.