Chapter 269 - 268: Can’t Figure It Out

Chapter 269: Chapter 268: Can’t Figure It Out

"You must be Zong Yao’s classmate." The woman smiled, and the fierce look in her eyes softened a little. "He’s in the study doing his homework. Why don’t you go join him?"

Huo Xingchen was about to say he hadn’t brought his homework when he suddenly felt a weight on his shoulder. He glanced over and saw that he was suddenly wearing a schoolbag.

The woman showed no surprise at the change, simply smiling as she said, "Oh, good, you brought your bag with you. Go on, it’ll be nice to have some company. I’ll go get you two some fruit to eat."

Huo Xingchen hesitated for a couple of seconds before heading toward the study.

The woman smiled and turned to go into the kitchen.

The study was easy to find; it was the only room with an open door. From the doorway, he could see a child sitting with his back to the door, hunched over a desk and writing something.

’This guy looks several years older than I do right now,’ Huo Xingchen muttered to himself. ’Are we really supposed to do homework together?’

He glanced at the kitchen, then sidestepped the study and went to another room with a closed door. He grabbed the handle and pulled, but the door didn’t budge an inch. It seemed to be locked.

Huo Xingchen’s brow furrowed. ’Does this mean the study is the only place I can go?’ He clicked his tongue inaudibly and, with a displeased look on his face, headed for the study.

’I hate being told what to do, and I hate homework even more.’

Huo Xingchen had barely done any homework back when he was actually in school. He never thought he’d have to experience it again as an adult.

"Zong Yao?" Huo Xingchen called out as he entered the study. "I’m here to do homework with you."

The person at the desk didn’t move.

Huo Xingchen took two steps to the side, turning his head just enough to see Zong Yao’s hand writing furiously. He called out again in a low voice, "Zong Yao?"

Still no response from Zong Yao.

Huo Xingchen moved forward again until he was standing right beside Zong Yao. "You’re really focused on your homework, huh?"

Zong Yao didn’t look at him, but he finally answered. "If I don’t do my homework properly, my hand will be chopped off. I can’t have my hand chopped off again..."

A chill went through Huo Xingchen. Looking closer, he realized Zong Yao’s left hand was gone. Blood was still dripping from the wound, landing right on the severed hand on the floor.

A small pool of blood had already formed beneath the severed hand. This could only happen in the Ghost Realm; under normal circumstances, anyone who lost that much blood would have passed out long ago.

"Your..."

Just as Huo Xingchen started to speak, Zong Yao turned to look at him. His face was deathly pale, his lips colorless, and his eyes were completely black. He looked anything but alive.

Huo Xingchen’s expression didn’t change. He calmly finished his sentence, "...wound looks pretty serious. You should go get it bandaged."

Zong Yao stared at Huo Xingchen with his pitch-black eyes for several seconds. After confirming that he showed no fear, Zong Yao casually turned back around and muttered to himself, "No, I have to finish my homework first. Otherwise, Mom will get angry."

Huo Xingchen didn’t understand. "Is doing homework really more important than your life?"

At his words, Zong Yao’s pen paused for several seconds before he resumed writing.

Huo Xingchen sighed, took off the schoolbag, and opened it. Inside was a pile of books. He pulled one out and saw it was for the third grade.

"What’s the assignment?" Acting completely at home, Huo Xingchen dropped his books onto Zong Yao’s desk, pulled over a nearby chair, and sat down.

Unfortunately, he was too small. Sitting in the chair, his head barely cleared the top of the desk.

Huo Xingchen: ...

Just then, a notebook was passed to him from the side. Zong Yao’s listless voice sounded out, "The assignments are all in here."

Huo Xingchen took it and flipped through the pages, marveling. ’This kid is so well-behaved. He even writes down his assignments so neatly.’

Language Arts, Math, English... Huo Xingchen carefully selected one that didn’t require writing: memorizing a passage from the Language Arts textbook.

He took out his Language Arts book and was about to start reciting when he noticed Zong Yao watching him from the corner of his eye.

Huo Xingchen turned his head. "What are you looking at me for? You finished your homework?"

A complicated light shone in Zong Yao’s pitch-black eyes, as if silently asking, ’Are you really just going to start doing homework? Don’t you feel like something’s wrong here?’

Huo Xingchen reached out and turned Zong Yao’s head back to his work. "Don’t look at me. I’m not going to do it for you. Do your own work."

Zong Yao: ...

He was about to try again when a quiet voice drifted over from next to him. "Your mom’s about to come in."

As if by reflex, Zong Yao’s back straightened. He lowered his head and continued writing furiously, not daring to say another word.

Huo Xingchen silently raised an eyebrow. ’Heh. You think that’s enough to scare me?’

Before long, the woman came in carrying a tray with a plate of sliced fruit and two glasses of milk.

"Have a little something to eat before you continue." The woman placed the food and drinks on the desk and glanced down at Zong Yao’s notebook. One moment her smile was gentle as water; the next, her face was as grim as a reaper’s.

"Is this all you’ve done?" The woman SLAMMED the glass of milk on the desk. The milk in the cup jumped, and Zong Yao jumped with it, instinctively covering his head.

But he must have forgotten that his left hand had been chopped off. He failed to shield his head, and the gruesome wound was exposed right before the woman’s eyes.

The woman’s eyes instantly turned red. "Are you blaming me? If you hadn’t made me so angry, would I have struck so hard?"

Zong Yao trembled uncontrollably. "No, I... I didn’t... I know I was wrong. I’ll write right now."

The woman glared with her scarlet eyes, her breathing ragged, looking as if she might swing a knife and chop off Zong Yao’s other hand at any second.

Suddenly, the woman looked at Huo Xingchen. "Is it because of you? You distracted Zong Yao! I’ll kill you!" With a SWISH, the woman raised her hand, brandishing a kitchen cleaver!

’Where the hell did that cleaver come from?!’ Huo Xingchen was dumbfounded. ’Even a Ghost Realm can’t be this absurd! I’ve barely said a few words since I got here!’

While complaining internally, his body reacted with lightning speed. Taking advantage of his small size, he scurried under the desk, then took out a talisman and waited quietly.

Sure enough, the next second Zong Yao was thrown aside. The woman crouched down and reached in to drag him out.

Huo Xingchen shrank back a little deeper, made some space, and slapped the talisman onto the woman’s arm.

Instantly, a puff of black smoke erupted from the woman’s arm. With a piercing scream, she looked as if she had been set on fire. The flames spread from her arm across her body, and in the blink of an eye, she was reduced to a pile of ash that then dissipated into black smoke.

Seeing this, Huo Xingchen didn’t relax at all. Instead, his brow furrowed even more deeply.

The woman was dead, but the Ghost Realm remained completely intact. He’d gone after the wrong entity.

"You’re so powerful," Zong Yao’s faint voice sounded. "Why are you so powerful when you’re so small? If only I had been as powerful as you back then."

Huo Xingchen took out another talisman for protection, crawled out from under the desk, and looked toward Zong Yao, who was standing at the study’s entrance.

Both of his hands were now severed, and there was a gash on his head. He was covered in blood from head to toe—a sight that was both terrifying and heartbreaking.

Huo Xingchen couldn’t understand. What kind of mother could bear to harm her own child?