Chapter 95: Pain

Chapter 95: Agony

"I really can't tell... I really can't tell... I really can't tell."

Li Huowang knelt in the kindergarten courtyard, clutching the little girl tightly, his eyes brimming with utter bewilderment as he muttered to himself.

Was this reality or an illusion? Was it truth or falsehood? For a moment, Li Huowang found himself utterly unable to discern the difference.

Back when Abbess Jingxin had said that every Heartless Vessel was steeped in delusion, Li Huowang had once refuted her.

But it was only when he saw Sun Xiaoqin kneel before him through the fence that he truly grasped the profound meaning behind Abbess Jingxin's words.

A Heartless Vessel is a Heartless Vessel; no matter which side they choose to embrace as reality, they remain forever enveloped in delusion.

This is the inescapable fate of the Heartless Vessel, a destiny from which no one can flee.

Just then, a small hand clutching a little handkerchief reached up from Li Huowang's embrace.

Gently, it wiped away the tears upon his face.

Trembling, Li Huowang looked down to see the little girl's adorable face, utterly focused as she wiped his tears.

"Uncle, don't cry."

Looking at her sweet face, a sudden realization struck Li Huowang: this little girl might actually be alive.

The mere thought that he had come so close to killing such a kind little girl sent a wave of sheer terror washing over his heart.

"What if she's an impostor sent by the Twelfth of the Twelfth Month? Kill her!"

The moment this thought sprang to mind, Li Huowang was instantly seized by an overwhelming self-loathing.

"Shut up! Shut up!! Have you even considered that this child might be alive? Is your life truly more important than hers? At least she's a normal person! And you? Li Huowang! You're nothing but a madman!! A useless madman! What right do you have to trade her life for yours!!"

The glass in Li Huowang's hand creaked and groaned; even as the jagged edges tore his flesh to shreds, he refused to let go.

His furious roar startled the onlookers, causing them to scramble backward in alarm.

At that moment, it was as if two tiny figures were warring within Li Huowang's mind; illusion and reality tormented him with such profound agony that the sheer weight of it all left him gasping for breath.

Li Huowang even entertained thoughts of death, believing that if he were to die, he would be free from this torment forever.

A madman like him had no reason to live; his death would benefit everyone, lifting the burden from his mother and preventing Danyangzi from using his body to resurrect.

"Put your guns away, young man. May I have a few words with you?" a different voice echoed from outside the kindergarten.

The speaker was a paunchy middle-aged man in plain clothes, holding a megaphone. Li Huowang didn't know his identity, but seeing the police officers actually lower their pistols, he guessed the man held considerable rank.

Just as Li Huowang shifted his gaze toward him, the man slowly raised his right hand while holding the megaphone in his left. "Well now, young man, you see, as the old saying goes—"

But before he could finish his sentence, the middle-aged man's raised right index finger inexplicably twitched.

"Whoosh!" A high-speed, spinning sniper bullet tore from the barrel through a half-open window in the distance, flying straight toward the base of Li Huowang's skull.

In that instant, an extraordinarily peculiar sensation enveloped Li Huowang's entire body; he tensed up abruptly, instinctively jerking his head to the side.

"Bang!" Li Huowang's body violently shuddered, his head snapping back before he crashed heavily onto the ground.

"My son!!" Sun Xiaoqin's wretched cry echoed far and wide.

The brutal impact of the back of his head against the ground made Li Huowang's skull ring with a deafening buzz, his vision swimming with golden stars.

"Am I dying? If I'm already dead, why can I still think??"

In that very instant, the bright surroundings rapidly dimmed; the buildings, the crowds, absolutely everything transformed into dark, bizarrely shaped bamboo.

At this moment, Li Huowang felt a searing pain across his face; it looked like he was bleeding.

But Li Huowang had no time to dwell on that, for he sensed that familiar presence: the Twelfth of the Twelfth Month was still here, watching him from within the bamboo grove.

He looked around and found nothing but bamboo; he was completely surrounded, his lower half sinking into a muddy swamp of rotting bamboo leaves.

"Li Huowang~! Li Huowang!!" Various voices echoed through the bamboo grove from time to time—Ling Miao's, Danyangzi's, and even Li Zhi's.

Li Huowang had always assumed that over here, his fellow disciples were following his orders to attack the Twelfth of the Twelfth Month.

Yet it turned out to be entirely different; the situation was precisely the opposite, and for some unknown reason, he had been left all alone.

Just then, a familiar voice drifted through the grove. "Old bones, as the saying goes, at seventy-three and eighty-four, the King of Hell doesn't call you, you go yourself. You're already eighty-four this year, why haven't you gone yet?"

This voice of an old neighbor kept echoing through the bamboo grove, growing louder and louder, gradually invading Li Huowang's mind, attempting to twist his perception back into that of the dying old man.

Meanwhile, rustling sounds began to emanate from the grove; Li Huowang saw the little girl from that night, along with the Kitchen God she had spoken of.

The Twelfth of the Twelfth Month was not fighting alone; it even had helpers.

Li Huowang had yet to recover from everything that had just transpired; his heart ached as if pierced by an awl, yet faced with the impending crisis, a smile crept onto his face.

"You know what? It looks like you've won, but of all the things you shouldn't have done, you absolutely shouldn't have killed me just now. You know, my heart truly aches right now."

Li Huowang's face contorted as he hunched his back, his trembling hand clutching tightly over his heart as he gritted his teeth and roared, "It hurts so much I want to die!!"

With that, Li Huowang yanked the red bamboo scroll behind him. The moment it unfurled, he felt the extreme agony in his heart come alive, resonating with the scroll; the inner torment that had gradually faded upon his return now began to slowly intensify.

Immediately after, the red bamboo scroll underwent a wondrous transformation; it began to take root, the tendrils burrowing down through the bamboo leaves below, dyeing everything a blood-red hue.

Gradually, Li Huowang's emotions began to crumble, the agony in his heart returning to its previous peak.

Yet this was not enough; once rooted, it must sprout. The inner torment was sufficient, but now remained the pain of the flesh.

As he broke down in wailing sobs, Li Huowang reached both hands toward the instruments of torture at his hem.

The Twelfth of the Twelfth Month and its cohorts clearly wanted to stop him, but it was already too late.

(End of Chapter)