“Please, don’t kill me… Mother… Save me…” Fat Jun was writhing on the ground like a bloated eel, but the thick, viscous liquid prevented him from rising.

Aunt He brandished her claws, ripping through the blanket, her gaze fixed on Fat Jun beneath her. These three humans were proving more troublesome than she had imagined. She no longer harbored any hope of savoring them properly; killing one was good enough for now.

*Whoosh!* Three daggers flew again, aiming directly for Aunt He’s eyes.

Her eyeball exploded, and blood gushed uncontrollably.

“Ah…” She flailed her claws wildly. “My eyes! My eyes…”

At this moment, Gao Yang’s body trembled violently, but his hands never faltered.

— "You are useless."

— "No matter what you do, it won’t change anything, so there’s no need to be nervous."

— "Just do it. You’ve come this far, the important thing is to participate."

Through this bizarre method of self-consolation, Gao Yang remarkably calmed his fear and tension. As Fat Jun threw off the blanket, Gao Yang had already reached the hallway, picked up a fallen Tang sword, sliced through the hairdryer’s cord, and plugged it into the wall.

But no, the distance still wasn’t enough!

He gritted his teeth, grabbed the Tang sword, and stabbed at Aunt He.

The tip of the sword pierced Aunt He’s thigh, but the force was too weak, barely sinking in. Aunt He swung her palm toward him. Gao Yang had anticipated this and leaned back, feeling only a sharp sting across his nose—his nose had been slashed.

Blind and unable to see, Aunt He didn’t blindly pursue him. She gripped the Tang sword in her thigh, attempting to pull it out. Although the sword wasn’t lodged deeply and could have been easily removed, an invisible force seemed to hold it in place, preventing her from drawing it out.

Lying on the ground, Qing Ling spread her hands wide, clenching her teeth as blood trickled from the corners of her mouth. “Hurry up!”

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Gao Yang grabbed the severed wire of the hairdryer and pressed it against the sword’s blade.

There were no dramatic sparks like in the movies, and no visible sign of electrocution. Only a dull, brief *zzzt* sound was heard, and Aunt He’s body went limp, dropping to her knees.

She wasn’t unconscious and tried to rise again.

Gao Yang quickly shocked her once more.

Aunt He spasmed violently, then slumped to the floor.

She still struggled to rise, her tail thrashing against the ground. If it were a regular human, they would have either died or fainted from the shock.

At some unknown point, Qing Ling had stood up. She walked forward, pulled the Tang sword from Aunt He’s thigh, and plunged it forcefully into her right chest. Aunt He let out a howl of agony, her hands still flailing in desperate struggle.

“Help me!” Qing Ling shouted.

Gao Yang hurriedly threw down the wire and, from behind, grasped Qing Ling’s hands, pushing forward with all his strength.

Finally, the Tang sword pierced through Aunt He’s chest.

Aunt He convulsed violently, unable to even scream, her head slumping to one side as she was pinned against the pink wall, the scene unsettlingly bizarre.

Qing Ling, covered in bruises and utterly exhausted, let out a long breath. Her body relaxed as she leaned backward, resting against Gao Yang’s chest. He could feel the thudding of her heartbeat.

After a few moments of silence, Qing Ling turned and collapsed onto the waterbed, nearly drained of strength. Her body was battered, her white bathrobe speckled with blood.

Gao Yang’s mind was blank too. Holding his re-injured shoulder, he stood in the blood-soaked, wrecked, and filthy room, the air thick with an indescribably acrid stench.

If he had to describe it, it was like the reek of rotting eggs mixed with burning plastic, with a dash of medicated oil and mustard thrown into the flames.

His stomach churned, and he dropped to his knees before Aunt He’s corpse, vomiting profusely.

Fat Jun, having narrowly escaped death, wasn’t idle either. He quickly grabbed something to block the door and muttered, still terrified, “Luckily, no one else is in the other rooms on this floor.”

“Didn’t you say this was the last room left on this floor?” Gao Yang wiped his mouth.

“Heh, I was lying. Business has been terrible lately.” Fat Jun scurried over, treating Gao Yang’s arm with care.

“Bro…”

“I’m younger than you.”

“From now on, you’re my big brother.” Fat Jun glanced toward Qing Ling on the waterbed. “And she’s my sister-in-law!”

“…” Qing Ling didn’t speak, but the “killing intent” emanating from her exhausted body was palpable.

“Bro, I have a question. How did you know Aunt He was acting strange?” Fat Jun asked.

“The sound,” Gao Yang replied wearily. “If she were here to clean, there’d be a cart, wouldn’t there? When I told her to leave, I never heard the sound of the cart’s wheels.”

“Wow, that’s quick thinking! How come I didn’t realize it?” Fat Jun slapped his thigh.

“Of course! My brother doesn’t need to be told, he’s sharp as a tack!”

Gao Yang jumped, turning around.

It wasn’t anyone else who had spoken; it was none other than Wang Zikai.