Beneath the Mask

Chu Muyun and the shadowy man both froze as they watched Chen Ling's head turn into a gun barrel.

"Bang—!"

Chen Ling's vocal cords imitated the sound of a gunshot.

A blinding burst of fire erupted from the muzzle. The two figures standing directly before him snapped out of their shock and swiftly dodged aside!

They streaked across the snow for dozens of meters at astonishing speed before finally coming to a stop.

When they looked back, they found that no bullets had actually come out of the barrel. Only sparks continuously burst from the muzzle, as if it were merely imitating the act of firing.

"Th-this..." the shadowy man asked blankly. "Did Seven of Diamonds ever mention whether [Thousand Faces]... could turn into a gun barrel?"

"No." Chu Muyun shook his head. "[Thousand Faces] is an ability for disguising oneself. It can only alter one's appearance, but he... he seems capable of changing into objects as well."

"That's way too ridiculous. Is this the power of that twisted God Path...?"

"But great power usually comes with a greater price."

Chu Muyun calmly gazed at the red-clad figure in the snow, imagining himself to be a gun barrel. His expression was somewhat complicated.

"Bang—bang—bang!"

The gun barrel Chen Ling had become kept firing at nothingness, like a soulless walking corpse.

Until his muzzle "saw" Qian Fan and the other two, frozen in terror beneath the house, he suddenly stopped... as if he were thinking.

"He still has some rationality left?" the shadowy man asked in surprise.

"More accurately, instinct." Chu Muyun replied flatly. "The instinct for revenge."

At the same time, Qian Fan and the other two, targeted by the muzzle, went pale again. They had just witnessed Chen Ling resume his God Path, tear apart his own body, and then turn into a madman spraying bullets... The successive shocks had nearly stopped their minds from functioning.

"Fuck... Why won't you die? Why are you still not dead?!"

Qian Fan roared and raised his gun again, repeatedly pulling the trigger at the red-clad monster!

Bullets struck Chen Ling's body, splashing trails of blood. Even though he had taken the form of a gun, his physical toughness had not increased much. It was as though he had merely changed skins...

The next moment, another face peeled away from Chen Ling's face.

The enormous, bizarre gun barrel vanished. In its place was the appearance of a female opera role, with crimson makeup like apricot blossoms and brows curved like hooks. Judging from his features, he bore a seventy to eighty percent resemblance to the dead Chen Yan!

His bright red opera robes stepped slowly over the snow, like the only vermilion stain in the pale world.

The female opera role stared fixedly at Qian Fan and the other two. His lips parted slightly, and then Chen Yan's melodious, piercing operatic voice echoed above the estate!

"A little nun, just sixteen years old, in the bloom of youth, had her hair shorn by her master.

"Each day, before the Buddha's hall, she burned incense and changed the water,

"Watching young disciples play beneath the mountain gate..."

The operatic melody flowed on as the red-clad figure dragged out an afterimage and vanished from where he stood...

Qian Fan's vision blurred. A dagger slit open one of his wrists, and he screamed as his gun fell from his grasp into the snow.

His other hand immediately reached into his coat to retrieve another Ritual Artifact, but a flash of cold light passed by, and that hand, too, drifted lightly away from his arm...

"He cast his eyes upon me, and I stole a glance at him..."

Beneath makeup like red apricot blossoms, a pair of hollow eyes stared directly at Qian Fan, nearly pressed against his face.

"Chen Ling... Chen Ling! I know I was wrong!!" Qian Fan's features twisted wildly from the excruciating pain, but terror filled his heart even more. "Spare me... I'll give you all my money! From now on, I'll never—"

Pfft—

A sharp edge pierced through Qian Fan's jaw, abruptly cutting off his pleas.

"He and I, I and he, each held the other dearly in our hearts..."

Qian Fan's body fell stiffly into the snow. The female opera role slowly pulled out the dagger and turned his gaze toward the only two Enforcers remaining in the estate.

The two cried out. They could not summon even the slightest will to resist and turned to flee toward the estate gates.

At the same time, the female opera role's feet flitted lightly over the ground. His wide sleeves danced like butterfly wings, while the dagger's cold gleam traced an elegant arc through the snow. Two sprays of blood splashed out in its wake.

He slowly came to a stop.

As the last two bodies collapsed, the entire estate was soaked in blood.

The red-clad figure stood amid the corpses covering the ground, blood dripping from his blade like a demon that had walked out of hell.

After an unknown amount of time, Chen Yan's face vanished, and Chen Ling returned to his original appearance.

He stood alone in the sea of blood. The dagger slipped gently from his hand, and as an icy gust swept past, his entire body toppled backward like withered grass.

"It's finally over..."

Chu Muyun and the other man approached from afar. Looking at the unconscious Chen Ling, they let out a long sigh.

"A World-Ending-class Calamity Fusionist, walking a twisted God Path... From now on, he is destined to be an outlier," the shadowy man said slowly.

"Isn't an outlier exactly what we need?" The corner of Chu Muyun's mouth rose. "The Dusk Society takes in outliers."

"Are you sure you want to bring him into the Dusk Society?"

"Not me..." Chu Muyun took an envelope from his coat pocket and held it between his fingers.

A red [JOKER] card was printed on the envelope.

"The Red King."

Boom—!!

A deafening roar came from the void, and the falling snow shattered in an instant.

In the wilderness several kilometers from the estate, a boy idly playing with a tree branch suddenly lifted his head in surprise and looked ahead.

A savage crack spread wildly across the center of Eight of Clubs in the snow. Han Meng's hands reached out from the crack, seized its edges, and pulled hard!

Eight of Clubs shattered with a bang. Han Meng's body completely passed through the void, his black windbreaker covered in dust and clotted blood. He was in an utterly bedraggled state.

"He actually made it out?"

The boy covered his mouth in surprise... or rather, the large hole in the white paper that represented his "mouth."

Han Meng's chest heaved violently, as though that action had drained him considerably. He stared fixedly at the little boy sitting there and raised his gun without hesitation!

"Don't be so worked up. I admit I underestimated you a little just now. I never expected the Aurora Domain to truly have a genius like you." The boy propped up his chin with interest. "Your name is Han Meng, right? Want to join our Dusk Society?"

"Not interested." Han Meng's voice was cold to the bone. "Since when has a filthy organization made up of lunatics and executioners dared to openly appear in the Human Domain?"

"Tsk. It seems your prejudice against us runs deep."

"It's the truth." An invisible domain spread around Han Meng. "Article 139 of the Human Convention: regardless of the domain, upon discovering any member of the Dusk Society, they are to be immediately placed on the domain's highest-priority kill list, ranked even above the Fusion Faction and the Torch Usurpers...

"You are mortal enemies of the Human Domain."

"Don't put it like that. We've never done anything utterly inhuman," the boy said unhappily.

"Is that so?"

Han Meng sneered.

"Including... exterminating an entire Human Domain?"