Evil Spirit!

A group of people surrounded Fan Qingyang, berating Jiang Feng from head to toe. Their demeanor was as if Jiang Feng were a heinous, wicked bully who deserved nothing less than capital punishment to appease the public's anger.

Fan Qingyang maintained a warm smile from beginning to end, listening earnestly to everyone's accusations and nodding frequently in response, as if he were truly taking every word to heart.

Yet, in the distance, Jiang Feng's vigilance had already been stretched to its limit.

His hand had already moved quietly to grip the Ghost-Head Blade at his side.

He was absolutely certain that last night, he had indeed chopped off Fan Qingyang's head.

The person before him—the physique, the appearance, the mannerisms, and the expression—was identical to Fan Qingyang, but this could not possibly be Fan Qingyang.

At the very least, it could not possibly be a living Fan Qingyang.

Is it a demon... or an evil spirit?

This was the first time Jiang Feng had encountered such a thing in reality, and he could not help but tense up.

His gaze swept over the other party like a hawk, attempting to find a single flaw.

Upon closer inspection, he indeed discovered something strange: the expression on that fat face was far too rigid. From the moment he stepped into the room, that smile had not changed in the slightest, as if it had been carved on and could only hold that one expression.

Furthermore, Fan Qingyang's fat-laden neck was also wrong.

There was a thin black line across it, which at first glance looked like stitches left behind after a surgery; if one did not look closely, it would be impossible to notice.

At the same time, Jiang Feng noticed that the other party kept repeating a very strange action: his fat hands kept reaching out to touch the heads of the people around him.

If this were an elder to a junior, it might be understandable, but between peers, it was nothing short of awkward.

However, the group surrounding him was already overcome with emotion, gnashing their teeth in hatred toward Jiang Feng. Not a single one of them noticed this glaringly obvious oddity, and they even eagerly stretched their necks out to let him touch them.

"Boss Fan, that's about how it went. You tell us, what should we do now?"

Ma Liu recounted the sequence of events with added embellishments, then cheerfully signaled for the crowd to clear a path for Fan Qingyang.

The rigid smile on Fan Qingyang's face remained unchanged as he paced unhurriedly toward Jiang Feng and spoke in a slow, leisurely tone: "Jiang Feng, do you know your mistake?"

Jiang Feng drank the last of the medicinal soup in his bowl, then nodded very seriously.

"Yes, I did indeed make a mistake. Had I known, I should have chopped it up a bit more thoroughly last night to prevent it from rising from the dead.

As expected, cutting corners only leads to more trouble. Today, I'll just have to do the job I didn't finish."

The crowd nearby was left completely bewildered. What on earth was he talking about?

They looked down to see that the pot contained nothing but a pile of spent medicinal dregs and not a drop of soup left, which immediately made them itch with rage, and they began to clamor:

"Jiang Feng! You are too arrogant! Even now, you remain unrepentant!"

"Brother Fan, you must punish him severely!"

"That's right! I think he's just playing the fool to avoid punishment!"

Fan Qingyang raised a hand, and the warehouse instantly fell silent again.

His smile remained, but his tone took on an indescribable, eerie quality:

"Jiang Feng, although you have done wrong, I am still willing to give you a chance to reform. Come, stretch your head over here."

As he spoke, that fat hand slowly reached toward the top of Jiang Feng's head.

Ma Liu and the others watched this scene with beaming smiles, waiting for Jiang Feng to show a look of tearful, begging desperation.

But the next moment, a flash of silver light suddenly streaked across the air, and a round object flew violently into the sky, causing the smiles on their faces to freeze in unison.

Thud. The object landed on the ground, rolling half a circle before coming to a stop.

The crowd instinctively looked over. Lying on the ground was none other than Fan Qingyang's fat, massive head.

The warehouse was silent for a moment, followed by a series of terrified screams.

"Jiang Feng! You're insane! You... you actually dared to kill Fan Qingyang!"

"Jiang Feng, you are courting death!"

A few of the more cowardly ones had their bodies react before their brains; they scrambled backward, eyes locked on the door, ready to flee at any moment.

Jiang Feng looked coldly at the chaotic crowd and said in a chilling voice:

"Are you all idiots? Look closely—if he were still human, would he look like this?"

Hearing this, the crowd was stunned for a moment before turning their eyes toward Fan Qingyang's corpse. The next instant, their expressions shifted from shock to horror.

Because Fan Qingyang's body was still standing in place, and not a single drop of blood flowed from his severed neck.

"An... an evil spirit! Boss Fan has been possessed by an evil spirit!"

Someone blurted out.

The next moment, the head that had been lying quietly on the ground began to roll on its own.

The already wretched face was now even more twisted and hideous, with the corners of its mouth stretching almost to its ears.

"Oh my, it seems I've been discovered. How did you find out?

Come to think of it, the one who killed this fatty last night must have been you."

A strange, shrill, and dragging voice—neither male nor female—emanated from the severed head, its beady eyes locked directly onto Jiang Feng.

However, no one cared who had killed Fan Qingyang anymore.

Seeing the evil spirit reveal itself, everyone's first instinct was to run for their lives.

The few closest to the main door rushed toward it like madmen, but before they could even touch the door panels, they were suddenly frozen in place, as if gripped by some invisible force.

Those behind them shouted in panic: "What are you standing there for? Open the door! The evil spirit is coming!"

No sooner had the words left their mouths than the people frozen in front turned around in unison.

Their eyes had turned into two pools of thick, pitch-black ink, and dense black lines appeared all over their bodies, making them look like ragdolls stitched with countless needles—hideous and terrifying to the extreme.

Without a word, they lunged at the people behind them, biting and tearing frantically.

Caught off guard, two people had their necks bitten through on the spot, collapsing into a pool of blood with muffled groans.

The bloody scene terrified the rest of the group so much that their legs went weak. No longer daring to run toward the door, they scrambled back into the corners.

Jiang Feng naturally noticed the commotion, but he could not afford to be distracted.

Before him, Fan Qingyang unhurriedly reattached his head to his neck.

A teeth-gritting sound of fine stitching echoed as the black line at the severed edge began to squirm like a living thing, reconnecting seamlessly in the blink of an eye.

"Boy, do you know how much effort I spent cultivating this puppet?

Do you know how important it was to me?

Just as it was about to be completed...

Because of you, all my hard work is ruined!"

The strange tone rose sharply, becoming shrill and grating. With every word uttered, a new black vein appeared on that fat body, spreading densely as if something were crawling frantically beneath the skin.

"Since that's the case, hand over your body and become my new vessel!"

Before the words had even faded, the fierce blade had already struck again, decapitating him once more.

The head that had just been reattached flew into the air again, rolling far away.

Jiang Feng looked down at the head on the ground with a cold, expressionless face. "So much chatter. I want to see if you can still die after I chop you into pieces."