Chapter 47.4: The Toast

Otherwise, he would have long since attacked the villagers who saw him, and would never have agreed to Li Zhuiyuan's terms for “communication.”

He truly wanted to invite his guests inside and entertain them with “fine food and good wine.”

Because only in doing so could he preserve the illusion that his family was still whole—something he desperately wished to display.

And when faced with this kind of Dead Sinker—one who doesn’t harm, is easy to communicate with, and even invites you home to explain things—most people would naturally feel sympathetic and let their guard down.

But at the crucial moment in his tale, the trap would spring. The filth would drain from Zhou Yong’s eyes, his cognition would warp, and he’d reveal the Dead Sinker’s most primal, instinctive side.

It was a clever trap—not only in execution, but also in how it manipulated the human heart.

If Li Zhuiyuan had been drawn into the dream and confided in him, all three of them would now be sitting there dazed, waiting to be drained dry one by one.

Of course, the key point was that Zhou Yong was nowhere near the level of that great Taisui Dead Sinker. Most of his energy had to go toward maintaining the dream, keeping Runsheng and Tan Wenbin from waking. The little bit left was what powered his real-world body to start killing.

That’s why his movements were so sluggish. But it was this very slowness that gave Li Zhuiyuan the window to react.

Li Zhuiyuan moved. He didn’t rush to save the critically endangered Tan Wenbin—instead, he grabbed the bowl in front of him and smashed it into Runsheng’s face!

Crack!

The bowl shattered. Blood streamed from Runsheng’s forehead—but his eyes snapped open.

He instantly took in the situation, reached down for the Yellow River Spade he’d deliberately placed by his foot during the meal, and swung it straight at Zhou Yong’s head!

Thwack!

Zhou Yong toppled to the ground.

The dream he had maintained collapsed with him.

Tan Wenbin slumped forward, his face hitting the table with a thud.

Li Zhuiyuan checked him and breathed a sigh of relief—he was still alive, still breathing.

Great-grandpa had agreed to let Tan Wenbin come along precisely to have another pair of hands. And thank goodness he did—Tan Wenbin gave Zhou Yong another target to drain first.

Binbin had stepped into the snare with his own body and bought them time.

Had Zhou Yong gone for him or Runsheng first, the situation would’ve spiraled out of control.

The struggle between Runsheng and Zhou Yong continued.

Ordinarily, Dead Sinkers had enormous strength. But Zhou Yong relied on daily dips into the river to absorb yin aura from feng shui nodes. At home, he had to use that power to sustain the illusion of family unity. And today, he’d also created a dream to ensnare two people. Though he’d replenished a bit from Tan Wenbin, he was still running a deficit.

And Runsheng—whatever the quality of the food earlier—had eaten!

Now, Runsheng pinned Zhou Yong beneath him. No matter how Zhou Yong thrashed, he couldn’t get up.

However, Zhou Yong had both hands clamped around the Yellow River Spade, preventing any further attacks with it. Runsheng could only grip the spade with his left hand to hold it steady, while his right hand balled into a fist and slammed repeatedly into Zhou Yong’s chest.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Each blow landed with brutal force, and with every strike, wisps of black smoke seeped from Zhou Yong’s body.

Li Zhuiyuan walked over to the sack, retrieved the black canvas, and opened the ink paste box. He quickly pressed all five fingertips into it, then drew five long red marks on the black fabric.

Previous practice had proven that the black canvas was the most effective tool against Dead Sinkers.

The one he held now had been newly repaired—its power undoubtedly stronger. After all, the wood shavings inside had been carved by Ah Li using her own family memorial tablets.

But just as Li Zhuiyuan prepared to use the canvas to subdue Zhou Yong, the man suddenly opened his mouth and let out a piercing shriek.

Two shadows—one large, one small—shot out from him. A woman and a girl. Both lunged at Runsheng. The woman clawed at his back, leaving gashes, while the girl bit into his neck and dangled from it.

Hiss!

Under such an assault, Runsheng’s strength faltered. He collapsed off Zhou Yong and was pinned down by the mother and daughter.

Zhou Yong stood and pressed back down on Runsheng. The red glow in his eyes betrayed his current ferocity.

Li Zhuiyuan, black canvas in hand, prepared to act—but Zhou Yong and the mother-daughter duo turned to stare directly at him.

This froze Li Zhuiyuan. The canvas was powerful, but limited in use. It worked best as a finishing blow after a Dead Sinker was already restrained.

If he threw it now, they’d dodge. Even if he landed it, their pain could make them tear it off or destroy it.

Though the three appeared to be holding down Runsheng, any sudden move from him would cause one of them to lunge at him.

“Xiaoyuan, run! Forget Binbin!”

Runsheng was fierce, but even he couldn’t handle three enemies at once. He had resolved to hold them off to give Xiaoyuan a chance to escape.

But Li Zhuiyuan didn’t run. He half-closed his eyes, lashes trembling rapidly, his whole body shaking.

“Listen to me—I can release you from your suffering.”

“Listen to me—I can end your torment.”

“Listen to me—I can break his control over you!”

Li Zhuiyuan’s eyes snapped open. He raised a hand and pointed at Zhou Yong.

Instantly, the girl and the woman let go of Runsheng and turned on Zhou Yong, toppling him.

Moments ago, Runsheng had been triple-teamed—now he got to enjoy the upper hand.

He wasted no time. Jumping up, he grabbed the Yellow River Spade and locked it around Zhou Yong’s neck, finally pinning him for good.

Throughout all this, Runsheng was stunned.

No wonder Grandpa always told him to listen to Xiaoyuan—and even repeated it that morning. Xiaoyuan was incredible. Even Dead Sinkers listened to him!

Li Zhuiyuan approached with the black canvas. Still in a state of complete control, his gait was unsteady, like a drunkard’s.

Just like Zhou Yong earlier—when maintaining the dream made his real-world body slow.

At last, Li Zhuiyuan reached Zhou Yong, knelt, and covered his face with the black canvas.

“Aaaaaarghhh!!!”

Screams rang out, but there was no worry of disturbing anyone. Zhou Yong’s house was isolated, and the Mirror Water Moon illusion outside still held.

But the canvas’s power now far exceeded last time. Black mist surged like a breached dam.

Li Zhuiyuan had to remove the canvas.

Zhou Yong was now feeble, his struggles faint.

The red in his eyes had faded, replaced by white mucus—proof the trap was broken. He was back to his former self.

Runsheng was baffled. Why not keep the canvas on and finish him?

They had agreed: if Zhou Yong confessed his backers, they’d let him go.

But clearly, Zhou Yong broke the rules. Why not just kill him?

Soon, Runsheng seemed to understand. His eyes lit up with excitement.

“Xiaoyuan, thank you. I’ll enjoy eating him!”

As he opened his mouth to bite down, a cold voice stopped him:

“Runsheng-ge, don’t eat him. If someone set us up…”

Runsheng looked up and saw Xiaoyuan smiling—but it wasn’t the usual warm smile. It reminded him of that night at the stream after Xiaoyuan got the phone call.

Li Zhuiyuan looked down at Zhou Yong and lightly patted his cratered, greasy face.

“Then I’ll return the favor—with interest.”

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