The Blood Floss Demon still did not move.
The instant the young man pushed open the kitchen door, he froze completely.
Because the kitchen window was likewise wrapped in red flesh-like cloth!
He looked up at the ventilation fan above and discovered that even it—and even the range hood's duct—had been severed and blocked by the red cloth.
Without question, he had been completely sealed inside this room.
The young man slumped onto the floor. Looking at the Blood Floss Demon standing quietly in the doorway and staring at him, he raised both hands and said dejectedly:
"Mr. Monster or Demon, I admit defeat. I surrender. I won't run anymore."
"May I ask if there's something you need my help with, or do you want to forcibly take away my soul, or make me sign some kind of contract?"
"If you need my help, I guarantee I'll do anything for you!"
"Whether it's luring in other people's souls or blaspheming God!"
"What about the Christian church in the center of Potter Street? I can have every pastor in there dead and bring the place down within a day. I know the weak points in its supports."
"So, what do you say, mysterious sir?"
The young man brushed aside the hair stuck to his face and casually wiped away the cold sweat about to run into his eyes. His face was deathly pale as he spoke.
His body trembled slightly, because he was truly in too much pain.
Ever since childhood, his brain cells had possessed an abnormally high level of activity. He instinctively analyzed everything, his thoughts were exceptionally active, and he learned things extremely quickly—he could even remember anything at a glance.
But it was an illness, one that caused ordinary people immense suffering.
So he could only get