Special Department

It still wasn't enough. The black flames were driven back step by step under the red rift's assault, and a terrifying aura spread as Wu's consciousness began to blur.

Devour, kill... The words were like a demon's whispers, tempting it by its ear.

It needed to devour more Doors. Only then would it never be abandoned again.

It would never again endure that feeling of being tossed aside like garbage.

No one could be trusted. It could only believe in itself, believe in the knife in its hand...

Its blurred vision gradually focused. Its pupils narrowed to slits as Wu stared at Jiang Cheng's sleeping face. The man was still completely unaware.

"Kill him."

"Devour his Door."

Faint, indistinct voices prodded at it, eroding the last of its consciousness.

The red rift continued to devour Wu's body. It had already compressed the black flames to the neck. Just as the rift was about to reach the breaking point—

Wu caught sight of the little table out of the corner of its eye, and the unremarkable drawer that was tightly shut.

Its gaze wavered. It abruptly turned around and hurtled toward the window.

There was no sound of shattering glass. The black shadow, almost entirely enveloped by the red rift, passed strangely through the window and vanished into the boundless night.

Hundreds of miles from Rong City.

In an old, three-story Western-style house on the outskirts of town, a sparse-haired old man slowly awoke.

He was in better shape than he looked and usually didn't get up during the night. Lately, though, he couldn't sleep.

After all, he hadn't come here on vacation. He was hiding—or, to put it more bluntly, running for his life.

The old man folded his hands over his chest and lay there a while