Butcher
Lu Congxing didn’t know how to explain to the others that He Zhouyan was the new master of the slaughterhouse.
Meanwhile, Zhai Huokang was enthusiastically giving them the rundown on the new master of the slaughterhouse.
From the mouths of those butchers, they had learned the new master was incredibly brutal—he crushed the old master’s skull the moment he arrived.
As Zhai Huokang animatedly described the horror, Lu Congxing looked at He Zhouyan with a complicated expression.
The man looked back at him innocently, like a large dog tilting its head, trying to appear cute after doing something wrong.
Just as Zhai Huokang was about to further deepen his terrifying impression of the new master of the slaughterhouse, Lu Congxing finally spoke up to interrupt him.
He looked ahead seriously. “There’s a smell of blood.”
Everyone else was alarmed and lifted their heads, sniffing hard—but all they could smell was the usual stench of rot and blood that permeated the slaughterhouse.
Lu Congxing wrinkled his nose slightly, confirming the scent was coming from up ahead.
He turned to the man beside him. He Zhouyan gave a small nod in confirmation, a faint smile playing at the corner of his lips.
Though outwardly calm and aloof, his thoughts were restless. His gaze, practically obsessive, lingered on the calm and collected cub beside him.
What the cub didn’t know was that a special bloodline within him was beginning to awaken. His physical abilities were improving, and the pure spiritual energy he exuded was becoming increasingly intoxicating.
He Zhouyan released a bit of his own spiritual energy to wrap around the cub, righteously thinking: this is to keep those weird stalker demons from catching his scent. Who knew how many of them wanted a taste?
Lu Congxing took out a few talismans and handed them out. Lin Yang’s eyes widened.
He asked shyly, “Where did you get these?”
He had a bold, though likely accurate, suspicion in his heart.
Lu Congxing didn’t understand his hesitation and replied calmly, “I drew them myself.”
Lin Yang was struck like lightning on a clear day.
If it had been before, he might’ve pointed at Lu Congxing’s nose and called him a liar. But after witnessing his real power in the previous situation, he was already thoroughly convinced.
Lin Yang wailed, “You can do that too? Is there anything you can’t do?!”
Then his eyes suddenly went wide. “Wait—you, you haven’t secretly mastered some kind of eternal youth technique, have you? Are you actually like… eighty years old?!”
He had originally thought Lu Congxing was just a disciple of some reclusive master. Now it turned out he was the reclusive master.
If only he had known, he never would’ve been so rude when they first met. Right now, he desperately wanted to go back in time and slap some sense into his earlier self.
Wen Yi looked at his dumb childhood friend with a bit of helplessness, then subtly pointed to her head while glancing at Lu Congxing: He’s not right in the head. Just ignore him.
Lu Congxing’s mouth twitched slightly. His thoughts wandered for a moment—by demon standards, even if he really were eighty, he’d still count as a minor.
As the mood around them remained somewhat relaxed, the man in the suit suddenly lost it. He stumbled backward in panic. “I’m not going with you to die!”
His bloodshot eyes darted around wildly, his words tumbling out incoherently. “You’re all insane! That’s a butcher! You want to walk in there and die for nothing—I’m not that stupid!”
Everyone else’s faces darkened at his outburst. Lin Yang shot back sarcastically, “It’s not like we expected a cripple like you to be useful anyway.”
He deliberately emphasized the word cripple. After all, it was because of this man’s own malicious actions—snatching Xue Shuangshuang’s transcript—that he ended up this way. Lin Yang felt zero sympathy.
As for Zhai Huokang, his injuries were serious too, but after weighing the risks, he still chose to go with them.
Better than sticking around with a coward and getting yourself killed.
The man in the suit, clearly aware of how unwanted he was, flew into another rage.
The noise interrupted He Zhouyan, who was trying to enjoy the cub’s efficient and capable demeanor. His brow furrowed coldly as he shot the loud human a chilling glance—which was all it took to shut him up completely.
The man froze, mouth hanging open, only managing to wheeze out pathetic breathy sounds. It was both ridiculous and pitiful.
When he realized they were really going to leave him behind, he started shaking all over in panic.
He kept muttering to himself, “Impossible… impossible… even so, I’m the one who’s supposed to be in control…” A wave of intense malice suddenly surged in his eyes.
. . . . .
The smell of blood was overwhelming, but in truth, they still had some distance to go.
But when they finally reached the source, even though they had mentally prepared themselves, the gruesome scene and the overpowering stench still shook them.
They all wore invisibility talismans given by Lu Congxing, but still didn’t dare get too close.
The presence of a dog-headed butcher confirmed that these animal-hybrids retained certain animal traits—some of them might have such keen senses of smell that even their “human scent” could be detected.
They hid behind a large, rusted steel drum, carefully peeking out.
What they saw was pure horror—something that would never pass censorship on TV.
Limbs, still covered in flesh, were stacked in gruesome piles. A head, its brain hollowed out, lay on the ground with empty eyes staring directly toward their hiding spot.
Zhai Huokang’s breath faltered for a brief moment, but he quickly regained his composure.
He looked at the severed head with a complicated expression. Although the face was completely disfigured, he could still recognize it as someone who had accompanied him through two illusionary realms.
The disruption lasted only a second before he steadied his breathing, his entire being suddenly resembling a predator lying in wait—like a panther hidden in the shadows.
Several butchers sat around casually, drinking from small cups and tearing into slabs of meat. It wasn’t hard to tell that the “wine” in the large barrels was actually fresh, crimson blood.
Bone-white finger joints settled at the bottom of the barrels.
A bird-headed butcher let out a series of chirping giggles. Its head, which should’ve been covered in soft feathers, was completely plucked, making it look like a pink, fleshy tumor with a beak was speaking.
It filled its cup with the fresh “wine” and declared in a singsong voice, “Wine brewed with livestock finger bones and fresh blood really is the most delicious.”
The stitched-together, two-faced cat-headed butcher chimed in, “Of course. The fear in their eyes when we chop off their fingers is the finest seasoning.”
When it spoke, its voice overlapped—a male and female tone speaking simultaneously, as if two souls had been sewn into one body.
Another dog-headed butcher joined their bloody revelry. It held a human arm as casually as if it were carrying a chick. At nearly two meters tall, with overwhelming strength, the human had long since given up resisting.
The dog-headed butcher said happily, “Caught another runaway. We’ll turn half of him into a meat cake, and the other half into canned goods.”
Lu Congxing’s eyes flickered. This wasn’t the first time he’d heard the word “canned.” It seemed that these butchers ate canned food regularly—perhaps it had something to do with the realm’s obsessions.
The bird-headed butcher continued in its dramatic tone, “Ah! The cake shall be offered to our slaughterhouse’s new master. He’ll be thrilled!”
It seemed the bird-headed butcher held a fairly high status here—more like a seasoned veteran. Whenever it spoke, the other butchers responded without fail.
The newly arrived dog-headed butcher had the head of a chihuahua. It trembled excitedly, tossing the captured human onto the ground like garbage before joining in on the drinking.
The dog-headed butcher who had escorted Lu Congxing earlier had the head of a regular yellow dog. Now, it quietly sat in a corner, sipping its finger bone wine. It lifted its empty eyes and glanced at the butchers scrambling to curry favor with the slaughterhouse’s new master. A trace of unease flickered in its gaze, a gut feeling that something was about to change.
Although the newly captured human never showed his face, Lu Congxing recognized him by his clothes—it was the timid man who had been following them before.
He had entered the illusionary realm carrying a mouth jade piece, and according to previous descriptions, that jade had likely come from tomb raiding. Regardless of whether he had come willingly or been tricked, Lu Congxing couldn’t just stand by and watch someone die.
Seeing the chihuahua butcher about to pick up its cleaver and slice the man in half at the waist, Lu Congxing made a subtle hand gesture to Lin Yang, telling him to wait. Then he dashed out, tearing off the invisibility charm stuck to his body.
Startled, Lin Yang tried to grab him but only caught a bit of his clothing.
He Zhouyan followed right behind, casting a spell on his own face. In an instant, his appearance became blurred and unrecognizable among the butchers.
No one expected that the new master of the slaughterhouse was actually the face they all somehow couldn’t remember—the very “livestock” standing right in front of them.
The butchers were furious to see livestock boldly showing up in front of them. With snarls and wicked grins, they got up and began surrounding the two.
The bird-headed butcher jerked its head sharply, its featherless pink flesh even more grotesque up close. It squinted and sneered, “Oh, look at these two lost little livestock. Looks like our cake will have some new ingredients.”
A fox-headed butcher with half its head missing added, “Their fingers are lovely—so long. Perfect for birthday candles on the cake.”
The chihuahua butcher trembled wildly again—its tiny head and huge body looked ridiculously mismatched. It bared its teeth and snapped, “Stupid fox, do you even know how many candles you need?”
Due to the missing half of its brain, the fox butcher reacted slowly.
It hesitated and shook its head. “Then let’s just make finger wine instead.”
These butchers already saw Lu Congxing and He Zhouyan as meat on a cutting board, chatting away casually while closing in on them.
Meanwhile, the original dog-headed butcher and the two-faced cat remained silent.
The cat-headed butcher lowered its voice in disbelief. “What’s going on?! Didn’t you personally see him go into the master’s room?”
Back then, it had escorted Lu Congxing too, though it hadn’t stayed to the end—and now it deeply regretted that.
The dog-headed butcher recalled the glance He Zhouyan had given it when he came back out with Lu Congxing, and a chill spread from his limbs. He wasn’t sure whether he should speak up about what he’d seen.
Unfortunately, before he could make up his mind, one of the butchers struck first.
The bird-headed butcher slashed down with its blade, a cold gleam flashing—but it hit nothing.
He Zhouyan had reacted in an instant, shielding the cub behind him.
He didn’t care whether his identity was exposed, but since the cub’s friend was also watching, he restrained his spiritual pressure to avoid causing trouble.
And so, a bizarre scene unfolded: no matter how hard the bird-headed butcher swung, its massive blade remained frozen mid-air, as if time itself had paused.
The chihuahua butcher barked madly and rushed in as well.