A Light That Attracts Moths

Supernatural Creature: Desire Slave.

Status: Near Death.

Information Fragment One: There were many weak-willed humans who, after encountering supernatural items from the Evil Faction, became slaves to those items because a certain desire had grown too intense. Gradually corrupted and twisted by evil power, everything they did was to nourish that supernatural item and satisfy their own desires. They were collectively known as Desire Slaves.

Information Fragment Two: His desire was lust. By nourishing a supernatural item, he had gained an abnormally oversized reproductive organ and a high Basic Favorability with the opposite sex.

Information Fragment Three: To nourish that supernatural item, he had lured and killed more than seven women, devouring the vital essence within them. He was the serial killer who had recently kept the women of neighboring Blue Deer City in constant fear—the Withered Flower.

The information fragments flowing through his eyes left Tang Qi, still a child in this life, rather speechless.

Still, he now understood why this painter's combat ability was so weak. Forget Tang Qi, who possessed the Chaga Combat Technique—even a somewhat stronger man could probably have finished him off.

Perhaps this guy had put all his points into places where they did not belong.

Tang Qi had some recollection of the Withered Flower mentioned by the interface.

Recently, a serial killer had appeared in Blue Deer City, neighboring Messer City, specifically targeting beautiful women. A withered flower was left at every crime scene, so the sensation-seeking media had dubbed him the "Withered Flower."

The title was quite poetic, but unfortunately, its owner was merely a disgusting bastard.

After briefly recalling the report, Tang Qi remembered one noteworthy detail: the bounty on this fellow was not low.

Unfortunately, Tang Qi had no intention of claiming it.

"Cough... cough, cough."

"Scrape, scrape, scrape."

Compared to the ground in Bronx District, this place was clearly much cleaner, yet it was now a complete mess as well. Amid the bloodstains, the painter struggled. He tried to cover his severed windpipe with his palms, but his broken hands clearly could not manage it.

The neat clothes he wore had long since become filthy beyond recognition. Seeing that he was about to die, he finally remembered something. Giving up his struggle, he suddenly began crawling toward the items that had fallen nearby.

The painter's target appeared to be one particular sheet among that stack of drawings.

His twisted, blood-smeared hand trembled as it reached out. It seemed as though he would touch it the next moment.

Then a streak of silver-white blade light flashed.

With a wet pfft, the sharp blade pierced through his palm and pinned it to the ground. Intense pain swept over him, but with his windpipe cut open, he could only make hoarse "heh... heh-heh" noises instead of screaming, like a bellows pumping air, while blood spurted out even faster.

Tang Qi made no other move. He simply gathered up the stack of drawings. Rather than taking out the picture that seemed to be a supernatural item, he stuffed the entire bundle into the painter's bag.

By the time he finished tidying up, the painter had breathed his last, ending his life in agony.

Tang Qi turned around and watched a pink, mist-like spirit slowly seep out of the corpse. An intense wave of lust radiated from it. Although its expression was incomparably agonized and its body twisted, it still gave off a bizarre feeling that was both revolting and suggestive.

Without mocking or berating him, Tang Qi merely snorted coldly. His hand wrapped in Golden Flame suddenly seized the resentful soul's head. Amid sizzling sounds, the resentful soul dissipated into smoke.

Feeling a stream of golden motes flowing into his mind, a smile finally curled Tang Qi's lips.

Another dose of fuel added!

After silently saying that to himself, Tang Qi ignored the corpse on the ground and turned to leave with the bag.

This painter had been a fool with twisted desires. While he struggled just now, Tang Qi had seen some women's intimate clothing sticking out of his pocket. Without question, after committing his crimes, this fellow had not only left behind withered flowers—he had likely taken some "souvenirs" as well.

"The first person to discover the body will have hit a small jackpot."

Tang Qi muttered, one foot already stepping out of the alley.

But at that moment, the golden motes in the Mental Space within Tang Qi's mind churned violently. A powerful omen of danger once again brought him a faint, needle-prick-like pain.

Almost instinctively, before his rear heel had even touched the ground, Tang Qi followed the principles of Combat Techniques. Like a hunting cheetah, he pushed off with the tip of his foot, twisted, and changed direction in an instant, lunging back into the alley.

At that very moment, while still in midair, Tang Qi saw the attacker.

It was a wolfdog-like shadow, shooting toward him at a speed utterly beyond human limits. Having failed to bite Tang Qi's foot, it darted into the alley and kicked off the wall, lunging directly at Tang Qi's throat again.

A foul wind hit his face. Tang Qi could even see the unnaturally interlocking, ghastly white teeth inside the huge wolfdog's mouth. Fresh shreds of meat and one or two black hairs were caught between them.

Human flesh!

Tang Qi's heart tightened, and his killing intent surged. He was about to strike in midair and dispose of this vicious dog.

But at that moment, waves of howls sounded from outside the alley.

Immediately afterward, wolf-shaped shadows rapidly approached beneath the streetlights. Tang Qi then saw seven or eight enormous wolfdogs identical to the one before him, baring their fangs, blood staining the fur around their mouths, their pairs of sickly green eyes gleaming with terrifying light.

All of those horrifying things pounced on Tang Qi at once.

"Did I poke a wolf den?"

"Bang! Bang, bang, bang!"

As that thought flashed through Tang Qi's mind, an exaggerated handgun shaped like a hand cannon had already appeared in his grasp.

The first to taste it was naturally the lead wolf, which was nearly at Tang Qi's throat.

With a muffled blast, the smell of gunpowder spread through the air. The head of the most vicious giant wolf warped instantly, as if struck by a heavy hammer. Its skull, hard enough to withstand a rifle fired at close range, could not resist the bullet wrapped in Golden Flame.

Like a rotten watermelon, it exploded with a bang.

The remaining giant wolves likewise could not escape the fate of having their heads blown apart.

Although Tang Qi had never received special firearms training and could not achieve a sharpshooter's perfect accuracy,

when Tang Qi pulled the trigger of Blood Python No. 1, this Supernatural Firearm automatically adjusted its sights. Moreover, that dragon-roar-like pressure could stun monsters. Even an imperceptible half-second was enough to turn them into cold corpses.

"Whew..."

In the alley, Tang Qi held Blood Python No. 1, his breathing slightly hurried. Looking at the giant wolf corpses scattered across the ground—creatures resembling something called Saralus Wolfdogs, but much larger and far more beast-like—his expression grew solemn. It was not because he had killed too many. Rather, Tang Qi had finally realized something.

He had made a rather serious mistake.

"Buzz."

Tang Qi's gaze fell upon the back of his hand. There, the frigid aura radiating from the Misfortune Mark had nearly frozen one of Tang Qi's hands stiff.

An unimaginable premonition of crisis swept over him like a flash flood bursting from a mountain.

At that moment, he sensed malice—the same sort of malice he had felt when facing the painter and those giant wolf monsters.

But it was far stronger, far more dangerous, and its numbers were... beyond imagination.

"I lit a lamp that attracted moths, but failed to put it out in time."

"Or perhaps I underestimated the Power of Misfortune?"

As he murmured, Tang Qi's thoughts became like a fiercely burning blaze, ruthlessly enveloping the mark on the back of his hand. With a sizzle, gray-black, frigid smoke rose, and the mark's glow rapidly dimmed. It was finally shut off.

Yet as Tang Qi looked toward the entrance of the alley, soaked in blood, his expression became even more solemn.