He Could Only Talk Like a Human with His Eyes Closed

The black chips were gently flipped between Sing Sing's fingertips.

Sing Sing swallowed the last bite of fried oyster and wiped his mouth.

"Boss, keep the change. Consider the rest a tip for your research funding to develop this sauce."

"Alright, handsome! Next time bring your girlfriend, I'll give you a bone fracture!"

After saying that, the stall owner, Lao Zhou, waved his hand and slid into the dark, narrow alley.

I was so smug that no one had noticed me, but I never imagined Silver Peak's nose was so sharp...

As he fiddled with the chips, Sing Sing noticed a strange aura emanating from them, aura that seemed to drift into the deepest, most cramped slums of the France District.

Is this guiding me?

Following the discovery, Lao Zhou arrived at the end of an alley, where a wooden sign was hanging diagonally.

Pierre's Mysterious Herbs and Voodoo Shop

Several dried bat carcasses hung upside down above the door, and the windows were tightly covered with black cloth.

Sing Sing stood at the doorway, looked around, and casually picked up a withered, unclaimed potted green ivy.

He straightened his chef's hat, held the pothos plant in one hand, and pushed open the half-closed, dilapidated wooden door with the other.

"Excuse me? Is anyone home? The neighborhood committee is checking the water meter and delivering some helpful supplies!"

The pungent smell of sulfur and rotting leaves hit him, making Lao Zhou cough.

Various herbal packets hanging from the roof moved automatically without any wind.

Wisps of bluish-gray smoke appeared out of thin air from the cracks in the floor, quickly condensing into hideous human faces.

"Step back! Stranger! The vengeful spirits of the abyss will tear your brains apart!"

A hoarse roar came from behind the counter, and the wisps of smoke turned into skulls that hovered in mid-air.

An ordinary person who witnessed this scene would probably be so frightened that they wet their pants on the spot, but Lao Zhou found it quite interesting.

He waved the green ivy in his hand, scattering the approaching smoke skeletons.

"Hey sir, it's the 21st century, why are you still using this neuro-hallucination and ultra-low-frequency infrasound stuff?"

"With your five-cent special effects, you wouldn't even be able to earn a boxed lunch by busking on the street."

Sing Sing placed the pothos plant on the counter and gently tapped the surface.

Under the counter, an old man with gray hair and a thin frame was huddled in a blanket.

The old man's bloodshot eyes glared at Sing Sing, who was peeking in from the front, while his withered fingers frantically clawed at the air.

"Monster!! Don't eat me! My flesh is sour!"

"Calm down, sir. Look closely, I'm a person, not a ghost."

Sing Sing thought for a moment, then took out a small metal box from his pocket.

"Your fear stems entirely from your overactive imagination."

Sing Sing unscrewed the lid of the tin box and scooped out a large dollop of pale yellow ointment with his little finger.

"Take a deep breath, close your eyes, and imagine the monster in your mind as a 200-pound 'muscle Barbie' wearing a pink miniskirt and dancing Swan Lake on stage."

"Are you still afraid? All you think about is Yue, right?"

The old man didn't grasp the psychological therapy; his eyes rolled back, and he actually puffed out white smoke from his mouth.

"Oh dear, you won't listen to reason, so it seems I'll have to resort to a major memory restoration technique."

Sing Sing easily dodged and slipped behind the counter.

With his left hand, he gripped the old man's nape like a claw, while with his right index finger, he applied three dots of ointment to the old man's temples, philtrum, and crown of the head!

Da Vinci Formula: A Cooling Oil Extracted from 72 Authentic Chinese Herbs!

"Fuck!!"

The bluish-gray illusory smoke that had been lingering in the room vanished in an instant.

The old man was panting heavily, snot even dripping into his mouth, and he subconsciously stuck out his tongue and licked it.

The previously cloudy and unfocused pupils finally refocused.

"Are you awake yet? If not, I still have some Tiger Balm; it'll work faster if you put it in your eyes."

Sing Sing came out from behind the counter and casually slapped the chip in front of the old man.

The old man, shakily getting to his feet, stared at the chip with a puzzled look in his eyes. "You... what is this?"

Sing Sing picked up the chips with two fingers, his brows slightly furrowed.

The old man looked at the chips with only doubt, without the slightest hint of evasion after recognizing them.

Sing Sing put away his chips, took out a cigarette, and handed it over.

"Hey bro, what's your name?"

"Pierre... the neighbors all call me Old Pierre."

The old man shakily took the cigarette, took a deep drag, and finally regained his senses.

"Young man, thanks for earlier... I thought I'd encountered a ghost again."

During their conversation, Lao Zhou didn't notice anything unusual about the old man.

But he just felt there was something wrong.

The chips carried a faint smell of rotting seaweed, and that stench... came from the same source as the years of grime under the old man's fingernails.

Have you been to the Mississippi River recently?

"Yes, I went. Three days ago, in the evening, old Thuram and I... oh, he's my old buddy, we rowed our flat-bottomed wooden boat down the Mississippi River to collect black snake gallbladders."

Which specific area?

"That place was near an old, defunct Sugar Refinery, a place even the patrolling water police usually avoided. But that day, the black water was unusually quiet; not even a frog croaked."

Old Pierre got goosebumps.

"We smelled bleach and rot, and then... and then we saw the glowing metal box."

"Those crates were as big as truck beds, and they were being towed slowly by several flat-bottomed barges toward the Sugar Refinery's drainage gates."

"And then? How did old Thuram die?"

Sing Sing asked a timely question, his inner energy unconsciously locking onto the old man.

"That greedy fool Thuram... he thought it was high-end smuggled goods and insisted on getting close!"

Old Pierre clutched his head, his gaunt body convulsing violently.

But before the ship even got close, a monster leaped out of the water!

"Good heavens... that thing is at least four meters long!"

"Old Thuram had just raised his hunting rifle when the monster lashed out with its tail, turning the wooden boat into splinters!"

"The monster bit his lower body... I watched with my own eyes as old Thuram's entrails and intestines sprayed onto the water!"

"And then... I don't remember anything. When I woke up, we were already back on shore."

Just as the old man descended into madness, Sing Sing detected a peculiar mental fluctuation.

This old man's combat strength was roughly equivalent to half a laying hen, but there was a faint soul resonance fluctuation hidden within his body.

A psychic?

"Alright, sir, the story was very well told. Listening to you has been a waste of five minutes."

Sing Sing raised his hand and chopped at the back of Old Pierre's neck.

Old Pierre rolled his eyes and fell towards the counter.

Sing Sing scooped him up with one hand and shoved him back into the rattan rocking chair.

When I was about to look up some traditional Chinese medicine remedies that could stimulate brain nerves, something strange happened.

Despite being physically knocked unconscious, Old Pierre suddenly revealed a cold smile.

A male voice, completely different from Old Pierre's hoarse voice and carrying a heavy Louisiana Cajun accent, rang out.

"Hey... you almost broke my neck..."

A chilly, damp atmosphere suddenly filled the room, and the withered bats on the windowsill swayed gently.

Sing Sing Chow lit the cigarette he had in his mouth with a snap.

"Oh ho? A long-distance call to the underworld went through?"

"State your name. What page is your name on in the Book of Life and Death in the Underworld?"

With his eyes closed, "Old Pierre" let out two strange laughs, tilting his head slightly towards Sing Sing's direction.

"I am Thuram... the poor wretch that Old Pi was just talking about, the one who got gnawed into pieces."

"Old Pi was so scared just now that he didn't get many details right."

Sing Sing Chow narrowed his eyes. "How did Old Pi, with his old arms and legs, manage to swim back to shore?"

"Thuram," with his eyes closed, remained silent for a moment.

"Because I only discovered I was a Mutants after I died..."

"Haha, I've participated in three anti- Mutants marches in my life, only to find out I'm one myself right before I die. How ironic..."

Thuram chuckled self-deprecatingly.

"After I died, my soul floated on the water's surface. I watched Old Pi sink to the bottom, and in my panic, I grabbed him, but my consciousness was immediately locked inside his body."

"Unfortunately, I am currently unable to separate myself from his physical body..."

Sing Sing was taken aback. He had thought it was a psychic, but it turned out it was Mutants too.

"So, what did you discover?"

"Um."

Thuram nodded. "I discovered something strange in the Atchafalaya Swamp when I was out a few months ago, but I didn't go any deeper."

"But out of curiosity, I discovered that someone had gone to a manor, Blood Willow Manor."

"That's a France colonial plantation that's been abandoned for over a hundred years. That's all I know..."

"Thanks, sir."

Sing Sing Chow stood up to leave, but before he could even open the door...

Several infrared laser beams lit up through the gaps in the blinds, locking onto Sing Sing's chest.

He pulled out the slightly warm chip from his pocket, then looked at the dense red dots on his chest, and suddenly realized what was going on.

"Damn it, it's a food delivery tracking device after all?"