The Hundred-Eyed Who Takes Heads From Afar

Hexing Street got its name because it hugs the Dadu River, which cuts straight through Sanxiang City.

Every morning and evening, a flood of fishermen would ride the current down to the street's dock, setting up stalls in the fish market to peddle their catch.

Any resident west of the city who wanted to buy aquatic goods would come here, and even folks from other districts would make a special trip by carriage, drawn by the market's reputation.

The dock's fish market truly had something unique about it.

The stalls in the early morning sold the freshest fish, still lively and jumping, much favored by wealthy households and restaurants.

By evening, the fish had been sitting in wooden basins all day, most already belly-up, their prices dropping to less than a tenth of the morning's.

Common folk would pick through the dead fish carefully, finding decent ones to enjoy as a treat.

As dusk fell and the meal hours passed, the stalls gradually thinned out.

The fishermen hurriedly rowed their little boats away from Sanxiang City, all of them living in villages on the outskirts—navigating the waterway at night was no easy road.

Against the backdrop of the setting sun, the fish market became as quiet as a deserted temple.

Zhang Dou packed up his stall in a rush, nearly missing his chance to leave because he'd been trying to buy ink and brushes for his son's schooling.

That's when he noticed another fish stall still set up nearby, with no sign of packing up at all.

Zhang Dou glanced at the sun sinking halfway down the mountain and strode over quickly.

He'd crossed paths with the stall owner a few times before, so he couldn't help but warn him: "Wang Bingquan, time to go. The waterway's going to be tough to navigate soon."

"Heh heh heh heh."

Wang Bingquan let out a strange, inexplicable laugh. His head was a full size larger than a normal person's, and his face was covered in bulging veins.

Zhang Dou stumbled back a few steps, but quickly steadied himself.

He looked at the stall. In the wooden basin was a silver carp floating belly-up, missing both its eyes—too poor in appearance to sell.

"Wang Bingquan, if this fish won't sell, just take it home and make soup..."

"Heh heh, how about I sell it to you?"

"Who wants your rotten fish? Guess my good intentions are wasted on a donkey's liver."

Zhang Dou couldn't help cursing under his breath. Wang Bingquan didn't get angry at all, just kept laughing that eerie laugh, sending chills down the spine.

He suddenly remembered a tragic story he'd heard—it seemed to be about Wang Bingquan.

In Wang Bingquan's village, there were five fishermen who fished together and took turns selling the catch, looking out for each other.

But a few days ago, when they cast their nets on the Dadu River, all the fishermen except Wang Bingquan lost their lives.

It was said that when the Yamen fished out the bodies, there wasn't a single patch of good flesh on them, and their eyes were just two empty sockets.

Rumor had it they were killed by a water ghost.

Zhang Dou couldn't help feeling pity. Wang Bingquan must have lost his mind from the shock—no wonder he wouldn't leave the fish market.

He sighed and said, "Wang Bingquan, I'll buy this fish from you. Go home early."

Wang Bingquan lifted his head, his gaze fixed straight on Zhang Dou, a wildly exaggerated grin spreading across his face.

"Three coppers."

Zhang Dou's face darkened as he pulled out his coin purse, took out a few coins like he was sending off a plague god, and handed them over without even counting.

Wang Bingquan deftly threaded a straw rope through the fish's mouth and passed the whole silver carp over.

"Remember to pan-fry it. Silver carp has tender, smooth flesh, and the eyes are a real delicacy."

Just as Zhang Dou was about to take it, someone suddenly intercepted the fish, snatching the straw rope with perfect timing.

He whipped his head around. A Yamen runner had appeared beside him without warning.

"You..."

Ren Qing had no intention of handing the silver carp back. Instead, he advised, "Get on your boat quickly. Just think of it as spending three coppers to buy your life."

Zhang Dou, wary of the Yamen runner, had no choice but to swallow the loss, though a thick cloud of doubt rose in his mind.

A stinking dead fish—why would two people fight over it? And what did "three coppers to buy your life" mean?

Bewildered, Zhang Dou walked to the dock. He glanced back toward Wang Bingquan's direction and saw the two of them disappear one after the other into an alley.

The more he thought about it, the more wrong it felt. Wang Bingquan seemed more like a vengeful ghost demanding his life. He quickly shoved off in his boat.

Ren Qing, meanwhile, strolled along swinging the silver carp, his eyes constantly scanning the surroundings of the alley.

He had been quietly investigating the corpses from the Headless Case and found that some of the victims lived near water sources, which led him to Hexing Street.

These people all had one thing in common: they bought a dead fish before they died, ate it, and then their eyes began to ache, eventually turning into headless corpses.

The circumstances of the other bodies were all different, suggesting that the Hundred-Eyed had never shown his face, always using some means to kill without a trace.

Ren Qing waited at the end of the alley. There wasn't a shred of light nearby—so dark you couldn't see your hand in front of your face.

He stood there for a while. A pair of bright green eyes slowly approached him, accompanied by faint, indistinct muttering.

"I didn't mean to kill them."

"They deserved to die. They deserved to die."

"How can you blame me, you absolutely cannot blame me."

"Die die die die die!!!"

Wang Bingquan walked over, his twisted face filled with venomous resentment.

"I came to return your fish eyes..."

Ren Qing sensed something amiss. He looked down at the Silver Carp in his hand and saw the scales on its body gradually peeling off, sprouting dense clusters of human eyes.

In a daze, the Silver Carp became extremely vivid, as if it had just leaped out of the water, making him unable to resist swallowing his saliva.

Ren Qing's Double-Pupil turned, and the illusion vanished in an instant.

He reached out and pinched the Carp, clearly feeling the foreign object inside. Tearing open the fish's belly, a human eye fell out from within.

Seeing the human eye still twitching, Ren Qing directly crushed it into pulp, then leaned toward Wang Bingquan.

Wang Bingquan faced the wall, muttering to himself. He seemed to feel extreme fear, trembling as he knelt on the ground.

"Don't kill me, I've already done as you said, feeding eyes to the living every day, not even sparing the villagers."

As he spoke, his tone turned horrified: "I didn't kill them, I just hid the eyes in the fish bellies. They bought my fish, so they deserve to die."

Ren Qing drew the short blade from his waist and moved step by step.

Wang Bingquan's head flushed red, even most of his eyeballs bulged out, but his gaze did not shift an inch.

The Hundred-Eyed's ability was to create illusions, making it easy to manipulate people's minds. Wang Bingquan was clearly just a puppet of the other party.

Ren Qing looked toward the wall.

For any other cultivator, even with night vision, they could not observe in such fine detail, but the Double-Pupil User handled it with ease.

On the wall, a Snail crawled. Between the tentacles on its head grew a human eye, staring back at Ren Qing with an eerie gaze.

Before Ren Qing could react, the Snail exploded into a mess of slime.

Then a gurgling sound came from Wang Bingquan's throat. He clutched his broken neck in agony, and his head fell to the ground.

The head rolled with the wind, and in the blink of an eye, it rushed out of the alley.

Ren Qing hurriedly gave chase.

With the Hundred-Eyed's methods, it didn't seem like a recent advancement. He felt as if the Hundred-Eyed had been hiding in Sanxiang City for a long time, killing people and taking eyes not to cultivate the Eye-less Method.

Perhaps he was severely injured and needed treatment, or perhaps he was old and dying, seeking to extend his life.

If that were the case, the Hundred-Eyed must have relied on an Eerie Object to reach the Half-Corpse stage.

For the Hundred-Eyed to advance, he would have to consume the Hundred-Eyed Demon Lord's Eerie Object—a near-certain death sentence, and not something easily found.

Could it be that the other party was creating chaos to cover up something?

Thanks to readers 160506141214740, Who's the Blackest, and Shu Ba for their tips.