"Lower-class scum"

Han He needed to confirm something.

After leaving the cafeteria, Han He decided to ask Huang Daye.

The police could not really have come to give a safety talk today. There were no coincidences that convenient, and he had previously asked Shi Yu whether he could use "Mental Intent" to draw the police here.

Shi Yu's answer had been decisive:

"No."

Making a coin float above his palm, Shi Yu had said:

"My ability sounds impressive, but at this stage, it has a lot of shortcomings."

"1. If I want something to happen, all the conditions that could make it happen must already exist. For example, if I want a water bottle to fill with water, there must be a water source nearby, along with someone or something that could open the bottle. I can't make things happen out of thin air."

The coin slowly spun above Shi Yu's palm. He took out another coin and tried to make both spin together.

"2. My ability has a range, and it's affected by two kinds of range. The first is the range within which I can exert influence. Beyond that, I can't affect anything at all. The second is the range around the target within which the event can occur. That goes back to my first point: if the conditions needed aren't within range of the empty bottle, I can't make it happen."

"3. I can't influence events involving too many people. For example, I can't make everyone taking an exam think, 'I want to cheat.'"

Shi Yu turned his wrist, deftly caught the coins, and slipped them back into his pocket. He had become considerably more adept at using his ability.

After putting away the coins, Shi Yu looked up into Han He's eyes and said:

"So I can't directly influence the outside world or affect that many people. Besides, I'm only at the first tier. Don't think too highly of me."

The recollection ended.

That made Han He's target quite clear.

Huang Daye had most likely called the police. And he had done it last night, right under everyone's noses.

The other teachers' memories and perceptions must already have been altered. There was no doubt about that. Unless it was a complete idiot, it would never let a teacher call the police. Meanwhile, the few school administrators staying on campus reeked of Evil Sin to an outrageous degree. The Evil Sin that had granted them power was now either in terrible condition or concentrating on something else. In any case, it could no longer conceal the smell on them.

Huang Daye also carried a faint trace of Evil Sin, but it had rubbed off on him. A school administrator probably came into close contact with him regularly. It would hardly be surprising if Huang Daye knew something. The only strange thing was, why had his memories been preserved?

Whatever the case, a little probing would tell him. Most likely, he was a friend rather than an enemy.

Thinking this, Han He headed toward the dormitory's surveillance room.

But as soon as he went downstairs, he caught a scent.

The smell of rust. Metallic, salty, dizzying.

Han He knew that smell. A badger's was more rank, a fox's muskier, a sheep's or a roe deer's gamier.

It was the smell of blood.

Han He immediately sensed something was wrong and hurried his steps. Disregarding the stairs, he leaped down the flight, yet landed without a sound, quieter than a cat.

Han He did not rush straight out of the stairwell. He hid in the stairs' shadow and quietly looked toward the surveillance room's window.

The sight almost stopped his breathing.

He saw blood spattered across the surveillance room's glass. Larger droplets slid downward, mingling with smaller flecks as they continued their descent.

Huang Daye's throat had been cut open. Blood sprayed high and far from the arteries near his windpipe. The blood splashed onto the ceiling pattered down, a little like the "fine rain of Suzhou and Hangzhou" Huang Daye had once bragged about to the students. It rained onto his face, which still held traces of anger, staining his furious eyes blood-red.

Beside Huang Daye, a strange shadow slowly dissipated, as though it had never been there.

As the shadow dispersed, the bright red blood that had once sustained an old man's life also began to dissipate and fade, like mist on a car window when the heater was turned on in winter, gradually vanishing without a trace.

Han He felt his blood surge, rushing into his head. Anger and shock left him dizzy. His fists clenched unconsciously, and he felt last night's wounds split open again under his own strength. The taste of blood spread between his gritted teeth, but he made no sound. He simply hid where the sunlight could not reach.

Hiding, cowering, like a bug.

Next to vanish was Huang Daye's corpse. His body slowly scattered in the afternoon sunlight like ash blown away.

Clang!

A fruit knife fell to the floor. Huang Daye had not let go of it even in death.

At that sound, the strange shadow appeared again. It looked roughly human, but many twisted, bizarre, feeler-like appendages grew from its back. The shadow watched Huang Daye dissipate. Then it raised its head and slowly surveyed its surroundings.

After looking all around and finding no one, it actually gave a mocking laugh, as though laughing at an amusing play. It laughed for a while, then looked around some more. Perhaps finding it rather dull as well, it slowly walked toward the wall and melted into it bit by bit.

It really had left.

Han He's chest burned. He was carrying the ritual materials he had activated and the charms he had made that morning there.

His hand brushed lightly over his pocket, leaving a streak of blood across it.

Almost all the materials he could use for protection and concealment had been expended. The Evil Sin had merely looked around twice, yet that alone had consumed most of the materials Han He had activated through minor rituals.

"At least level four... Worst case, a level-five Evil Sin."

Han He looked at the now-empty surveillance room. He knew that, from today onward, as long as that Evil Sin remained alive, everyone else would quickly forget Huang Daye.

Han He truly hated himself.

He was an inheritor, yet he could not save anyone. Even Hu Zihao had only been saved with Shi Yu's help.

"Wait..."

Han He suddenly noticed something wrong. Even though that Evil Sin had left, the smell of Evil Sin had not dispersed. And...

"No. If that had been the Evil Sin that day, I couldn't have opened the door even with Shi Yu's help!"

Han He abruptly looked upstairs and broke into a run.

"There are two Evil Sins here!!!"

"Yiyi? It's Shen Bai. I've confirmed that there's a Netherworld and an Evil Sin at Yi City No. 12 Middle School. It's an intelligent Evil Sin, too. The Netherworld is most likely on the west side of the boys' dormitory's second floor. It seems to have some kind of arrangement with the school administrators. There's something wrong with all of them. The Evil Sin's abilities are memory alteration and perception distortion. They're tricky to deal with, so get ready. We're leaving right away."

Shen Bai's voice came through Liu Yiyi's phone, but all he could hear on his end was the rush of wind and the roar of a motorcycle.

He Siying sat on the motorcycle's back seat, looking at the helmeted Liu Yiyi speeding ahead of her. She shook her head helplessly and moved her lips, holding the phone.

Then Liu Yiyi seemed to hear Shen Bai's words.

"Huh? Leaving right away? By the time you finish sewing, the flowers will have wilted! Got it about its abilities. Thanks a lot, Master Tailor Shen! Hurry up, too! Yingying and I are almost there!"

Liu Yiyi's voice was utterly firm.

"Every minute earlier we arrive could mean one less victim!"

Liu Yiyi twisted the throttle hard, ignoring the voices behind her that could not keep up with the motorcycle. With He Siying along for the ride, she became a wild street racer, speeding toward the school!

Han He reached the second floor and pulled open the nearest door, Room 225's. He held nothing back. For some reason, the smell of Evil Sin was now about equally strong throughout the building. He could not tell where anything had been tampered with, so he could only go all out from the start.

The instant he opened the door, a sense of distortion swept over him!

The remaining twig against his chest burned fiercely! Without a doubt, Han He's perception had just been attacked!

But thanks to the twig, Han He broke free of the control after only a brief blur of vision. Hearing a rush of air behind him, he shifted slightly aside, spun, and seized the hand stabbing toward him from behind. He raised his knee and drove it hard into his attacker's straightened elbow!

Crack!!

The arm broke with the sound, and his attacker screamed, clutching it.

"Aaaaaaaaah!!!"

The attacker was none other than the school's principal, Zhang Ya!

But Han He showed no intention of stopping. Zhang Ya smelled at least as strongly as any of the other administrators except Yang Desheng. He could safely be judged no decent person.

Han He drew back slightly and pulled the sharp, antiquely styled dagger from his waist, holding it in a reverse grip. Carrying the motion forward, he stepped in, intending to slit his opponent's throat!

But Zhang Ya did not simply await his death. He hastily retreated, his entire fat face suddenly flushing red like a scalded, rotten persimmon. His eyes bulged almost to bursting as he pointed at Han He.

The instant that finger pointed at him, an indescribable despondency erupted within Han He. Grief and pain engulfed him like cold wind sweeping into a lighthouse. In that single instant, Han He involuntarily stopped his hand.

"Kill yourself! Kill yourself, you lower-class scum! You damned bastard! Die!!!"

Seeing his ability take effect, Zhang Ya hurriedly clamored and increased its intensity.

At the same time, Zhang Ya's face began turning from red to purple. Veins bulged across his fat face and temples, as though they might burst the next second.

His ability was indeed growing stronger. The negative emotions within Han He were beginning to crush him. His eyes gradually lost their luster, and he slowly raised his dagger.

"Die...?"

Han He's dagger drew closer and closer to his neck. Its tip touched his skin, and blood slowly flowed from the tiny puncture.

Zhang Ya was ecstatic at the sight! This was the feeling! The feeling of controlling someone else!

He loved his ability so much. The day he met that great being, he had been awed by that indescribable power, unlike anything he had ever seen, and had decisively chosen to offer up everything he had.

The school? The students? His wife? He no longer cared about any of them. At that feast, he had found the goal he would strive for.

He had long since had enough of this life: watching a bunch of ignorant brats every day, giving gifts to others on every holiday and festival. He was supposedly the principal, yet he still had to defer to others. Even a mere employee in certain administrative departments could lecture him, and he had to smile along! Just because they happened to oversee that particular area! He had had enough!!

He would become such a being too, one that could decide whether others lived or died! Then what could he not have? What could he not do?!!!

Watching the despondent Han He about to kill himself, Zhang Ya approached with wild laughter, wanting a closer look at his dying moments.

"Hahaha! Die! Hurry up and die!! Obey me! All of you have to obey me! Hahahahahaha!!"

Swish-

A light, crisp sound rang from the faintly trembling blade tip, and the dagger in Han He's hand flashed coldly. Blood traced a scattering arc through the air along the blade's gleam, its metallic smell instantly spreading.

Zhang Ya's voice cut off. He looked down at his neck in disbelief.

Han He had cut a wavy slit across it. Bloody froth sprayed out. With every gasp, he felt blood pouring into his windpipe and lungs, choking him painfully.

"Cough, cough!! Cough-ghhk!!!"

Zhang Ya collapsed with a thud. He felt his life rapidly draining through that narrow slit. Clutching his neck, he stared at Han He in disbelief.

A thin trail of blood ran down Han He's neck. He wiped it away, and Zhang Ya saw that there was not even a wound there. More precisely, it had already healed. Faint traces of wood mingled with animal fat wafted from Han He. His originally black eyes had been replaced by pale gray beast's eyes, gleaming with a wild hue in the dim dorm room.

Had he been acting all along?!! He actually dared to toy with me? He's just a wet-behind-the-ears brat, just lower-class scum... How could he... How dare he!

Han He offered no response to Zhang Ya's anger. His indifferent voice came from above Zhang Ya's head.

"A fool's ability. It can only stir emotions, not control them. How is that any different from suicide?"

With that, Han He did not linger at all. He turned and left Room 225.

Bastard! Impossible! I'm superior, more evolved! How can a mere piece of lower-class scum like you say that... What gives you the right to say that, aaaaaah!

Zhang Ya wanted to curse, but he could no longer speak. Warmth rapidly drained through the slit. Clutching his neck, he discovered that the ability he took such pride in was utterly useless in this situation.

In the gloom, he blindly tried to grab things: a quilt, a pillow towel, paper from the trash can. He wanted to use those "filthy things" the "lower-class scum" had used to plug his escaping life.

But of course, it was useless.

His blood soon drained away completely, and he was thoroughly dead. His corpse lay hideously in Room 225, the thick black blood around it joining the trash to paint an abstract picture on the shiny floor. The room's other four occupants slept soundly. Zhang Ya gazed upward with anger and unwillingness, but no one paid him any heed.

Snores rose and fell. Everyone was asleep.

*Note:

The Hunter's inheritance: ninth art: "Wolf Fang"

"Bites, sharp blades, patience, cunning. We hang the result around our necks to remind ourselves that the process does not matter."

"The wolf whispers. It guides my choices. It will not stop. I will not listen."