Chapter 56.3: Fire and Trap

Zheng Haiyang seemed to hear Tan Wenbin’s voice, but he moved in the wrong direction. Instead of heading toward the three of them, he veered diagonally backward, seemingly drawn by the sound, leaving his side exposed—right in front of his grandparents.

Both grandparents raised their kitchen knives and brought them down.

His grandfather was quicker. The blade struck, and Zheng Haiyang let out a shriek before dropping and rolling across the ground, pure animal instinct guiding his struggle to survive.

That quick tumble saved him from his grandmother’s blade.

But when he staggered back to his feet, he was already soaked in blood, his steps growing unsteady.

That roll had brought him closer to the edge of the dam. Now, he was just one stretch of the hand away from it.

He took two slow steps back, leaving only a centimeter between himself and the concrete railing of the dam.

Then he stopped. Instead of backing away further, he started sidestepping to the left, still clutching the stool tightly. His head twitched repeatedly—an early sign of blood loss and fading consciousness.

His grandparents, knives still raised, were closing in with every step.

At that moment, Li Zhuiyuan lifted his head and placed the Bagua Compass face-down.

Tan Wenbin’s face lit up, thinking the boy had made his calculations.

He kept his eyes on Li Zhuiyuan, hoping for him to speak.

But the boy said nothing. He merely stared forward, utterly calm.

Tan Wenbin extended his right hand halfway toward the railing. Just one nod from the boy, and he’d reach out to pull Zheng Haiyang to safety.

Li Zhuiyuan gave Runsheng’s arm a light pat. Runsheng instantly raised his hand and swatted Tan Wenbin’s arm away.

Tan Wenbin’s eyes widened. He no longer dared look at Li Zhuiyuan. Instead, he slowly sank to his knees, his face a mask of inner torment.

Zheng Haiyang’s grandparents kept approaching, and Zheng Haiyang himself was barely conscious, only maintaining a defensive stance.

Li Zhuiyuan began to step backward, glancing at the kneeling Tan Wenbin as he retreated.

Runsheng also stepped back while grabbing hold of Tan Wenbin’s shirt.

Tan Wenbin collapsed, getting dragged across the ground.

Afraid any sound might alert Zheng Haiyang, he held back his sobs. But tears and snot were already streaming down his face.

After pulling back a safe distance, Li Zhuiyuan stopped and stood behind Runsheng, peeking over his shoulder to keep watch on the dam.

Runsheng shifted Tan Wenbin so he lay against him.

Tan Wenbin took a deep breath and struggled upright. He waved his hand to signal he was okay, then turned to Li Zhuiyuan and nodded with force.

His eyes regained their resolve. Though still pained, the hesitation and doubt were gone.

Li Zhuiyuan found it both surprising and expected.

Maybe this was just Tan Wenbin’s way. He broke like anyone else but could just as quickly pull himself together.

“Afraid of dragons” was a slur, but continuing to chase dragons despite fear was a kind of strength too.

Zheng Haiyang’s grandparents had finally reached him.

But just then, his once-lost gaze hardened. He reached out, took the knife from his grandmother’s hand, turned toward the dam’s edge—and hurled it at the three outside.

Runsheng swung the Yellow River Spade. “Clang”—the knife went flying.

Zheng Haiyang’s grandfather flung his knife too, but the old man’s strength failed him. It clattered to the ground a meter short.

Then the three—Zheng Haiyang and his grandparents—stood side by side at the railing, staring coldly at those outside.

The evening wind made their bodies sway ever so slightly.

From their eyes, ears, noses, and mouths, water kept seeping out, soaking their clothes entirely.

Tan Wenbin looked thunderstruck. Though he had started suspecting something when Li Zhuiyuan began retreating, seeing the truth unfold was still hard to accept.

His best friend had been taken over?

When Zheng Haiyang stood so close to the railing earlier—had that been to bait him into reaching out?

Had he tried, Zheng Haiyang could’ve turned and slashed him with the kitchen knife.

If not for Runsheng batting his hand away, the outcome would’ve been grim.

If Li Zhuiyuan hadn’t made them pull back, those flying blades wouldn’t have been so easily deflected.

Tan Wenbin suddenly remembered what Zheng Haiyang had told him the night before—about feeling no grief over his parents’ death.

He had tried to console him, but now it seemed... Zheng Haiyang had already been off.

“Xiaoyuan ge… you knew all along?”

There had been two lit matches. One was lit near them by Runsheng or Tan Wenbin. But who had lit the other, the one that lured him?

Just as he was about to rush out of the living room, Zheng Haiyang had screamed—perfectly timed to draw him back.

And as he escaped, leaving the “black night” zone, Zheng Haiyang conveniently ended up at the dam.

Who was that performance for?

The mastermind wasn’t particularly clever. Its intention was easy to guess.

But all this—these were only Li Zhuiyuan’s instincts and speculations. He had no proof Zheng Haiyang had already been turned.

The real reason he let him die was simple: he wasn’t willing to gamble.

He and Zheng Haiyang weren’t that close. No deep friendship, no great bond—no need to risk everything.

He and Runsheng had taken risks before, but that was by choice. Being dragged into it was a whole different matter.

Of course, this wasn’t something he could say to Tan Wenbin. That would only make things worse.

So Li Zhuiyuan simply replied:

“Yeah.”

Tan Wenbin clenched his teeth and pointed at the dam. “Xiaoyuan ge, is there still hope for them?”

Li Zhuiyuan scanned the dam’s corner and the house’s doorway—his talismans were nowhere in sight.

“I don’t know what’s sustaining this ‘black night’ inside, but it shouldn’t last much longer. At the very least, once dawn breaks, things will return to normal.”

Tan Wenbin looked pained. “So… there’s no saving them?”

Zheng Haiyang had just lost his parents. Now, his grandparents too? Maybe even himself...

Li Zhuiyuan shook his head.

Whether they could be saved, he didn’t know. But he had no power to do so.

And based on everything Wei Zhengdao had written, there wasn’t a single case where someone turned into that could ever turn back.

If there had been a method, the one buried under the peach tree would’ve used it on him long ago.

Li Zhuiyuan could try walking the shade, using the methods in the Black Book to control one of the three—but what would be the point?

Tan Wenbin wiped his face hard, jaw clenched.

In his ears echoed what Zheng Haiyang had screamed that day after school, when he collapsed with water streaming from him:

“There’s a bastard buried beneath the sea; anyone who disturbs it—his whole family dies!”

What lay beneath that sea to curse so viciously?

It was real. It didn’t spare anyone. It would kill the whole family.

Suddenly, Li Zhuiyuan’s ears twitched.

Runsheng instinctively moved to shield him.

A figure was sprinting toward the dam.

Fast—like a hunting cheetah.

But he wasn’t coming from their direction. He wouldn’t pass them at all.

“Xiaoyuan?”

Li Zhuiyuan didn’t answer. There was no need for Runsheng to intercept this man.

In truth, few ordinary people could enter the area they now occupied. Otherwise, Tan Yunlong and the others would’ve come running by now.

Then, the man turned his head mid-run—and looked right at them.

His face—half of it swollen grotesquely, his eyes squeezed out to leave only dark, hollow sockets.

Yet somehow, he was smiling.

That single eye focused directly on Li Zhuiyuan.

He didn’t know the man. But from that look, it was clear the man knew him.

And a name rose in his mind—Zhu Changyong!

The one who had entered the underwater zone with Zheng Haiyang’s parents and made it back.

The one Xu Wen had been searching for.

Now, agile as ever, he was barely human anymore.

Why had he come now?

Li Zhuiyuan turned to the dam—and realization dawned.

He had misread the enemy.

Zhu Changyong leaped onto the dam and into the “black night.”

His arms groped awkwardly at first, disoriented. But soon, laughter burst from him—warped and broken, as if his vocal cords had rotted.

He was now little more than a hunk of rotting flesh in human shape.

Zheng Haiyang and his grandparents all turned to face him.

Zhu Changyong pounced.

The black night no longer held power over him.

Next Chapter >>>