A Ruthless Person Even More Ruthless to Themselves

Old Wolf crawled painfully up the ridge, its claws worn bloody.

It panted heavily, its gait severely distorted, fur falling off in patches to reveal raw, bloody flesh beneath.

It looked as if it might breathe its last at any moment.

Old Wolf forced itself onward into the depths of Camel Peak Mountain, its clouded eyes barely making out the path, though it had likely already lost even the most basic awareness.

When it finally stopped, a dense tangle of vines blocked its way.

Thud.

Old Wolf collapsed weakly to the ground; only the faint rise and fall of its belly showed it had not yet died.

Then, the fur on its belly slowly split open in fine cracks, like a clam opening its shell.

A withered head emerged from the gap, the skin beneath showing no trace of flesh or blood—like a white-boned skull.

Who could have imagined that inside the wolf's belly was a decrepit living man?

The old man slowly crawled out into the open, but he was a human swine—a creature without limbs.

"Ghost Envoy... Ghost Envoy... Ghost Envoy..."

The old man's expression was cold, his eyes carrying a barely restrained excitement that lent an unnatural flush to his ashen skin.

He lowered his head and greedily tore into Old Wolf's flesh, devouring it.

His limbs gradually grew back, but wrinkles spread across his body like ravines, and his breath seemed as if it might cease at any moment.

After a short while, only the wolf's skeleton remained.

"Fifteen more days of lifespan..."

The old man stood up, wiped the flesh and blood from his mouth, then traced a barely visible wound on his forehead with his finger.

He grabbed the wound and pulled hard, as if trying to peel off his own human skin.

The most hair-raising part was that the skin writhed like a living thing, trying to reattach itself to the flesh and bone.

The old man's face twisted in ferocity; he knew his chance was fleeting, so he pulled harder, making the skin struggle violently.

Just as the skin was about to tear off, the sound of breaking air rang out.

Whoosh whoosh whoosh.

Several flying knives embedded themselves in a tree trunk dozens of meters away.

Though the distance was over ten meters, the cautious old man stopped his actions. The skin re-fused with his body, leaving not even a trace of a wound.

The old man said darkly, "Who is it?"

"This Humble One is Ren Qing. This is our second meeting."

Ren Qing walked out slowly, his surface calm but his muscles taut, his right hand never releasing the saber's hilt.

A flicker of surprise passed through Song Rong's eyes; he clearly recognized the other man—after all, not many yamen runners came to the Martial Arts Building to borrow Chronicles of the Thatched Cottage.

Ren Qing locked onto Song Rong with his Double Pupils. Even though the latter had lost his Hundred Eyes, his other two techniques posed no threat.

Still, he kept more than twenty meters between them.

Song Rong asked in a gentle tone, "Those eyes of yours are interesting. Is it the Eye-less Method?"

Clang!

Ren Qing didn't reply, but his Great Miao Saber slid half a finger from its sheath.

Song Rong suddenly lost his urgency, explaining as if instructing a junior: "I've always thought the Eye-less Method had a third mutation path. I never expected to see it on you."

He laughed morbidly: "If my Hundred Eyes hadn't been stripped away, I'd definitely be interested in your eyes."

"Does it matter?"

Ren Qing felt a chill run down his spine, but quickly steadied himself.

"It really doesn't."

Song Rong smiled and tested a step back; Ren Qing immediately advanced.

"Since you're not in a hurry to strike, you must want to ask me something, right?"

"Is there a method in this world to extend one's lifespan?"

"Heh, of course there is, but it always comes at a price. Eating raw human eyes is the most common method. Some things even I can't bear to look at."

Song Rong slowly approached Ren Qing, his tone strange: "The Forbidden Guard will probably arrive in about a hundred breaths. Don't you want to know..."

When only half a meter remained between them, his right arm suddenly tore off at the shoulder and flew out, faster than the eye could see.

Even in midair, the arm could still move; the nails showed traces of technique, likely able to slice through Ren Qing's flesh with ease.

Song Rong had originally planned to peel off his own Eerie Object of skinning, forming a forbidden zone to break the Forbidden Guard's technique seal.

Now it seemed, if he could kill Ren Qing, he might still preserve some strength to enter the Disaster Aversion Forbidden Zone.

But Ren Qing had no intention of letting him succeed.

With his Double Pupils, Ren Qing easily caught the arm's trajectory. He closed his eyes, as if returning to the mine shaft where he had swung his blade a hundred times.

The mountain wind brushed against his face, and he could sense wisps of airflow gathering and dispersing.

Clang!!

The blade within his hand scraped against the scabbard, producing a harsh sound, as if the Great Miao Saber could not wait to reveal its edge.

The blade slid free.

Ren Qing vanished from where he stood.

Under Song Rong's incredulous gaze, Ren Qing appeared within half a meter of him, and that arm imbued with two types of sorcery had been split in two.

The cut was perfectly smooth, even the bone was the same.

"Forget about eating human eyes raw. The upper limit for extending lifespan is clearly not high."

Ren Qing knew that the Forbidden Guards within Camel Peak Mountain were constantly searching for Song Rong. If he could not obtain the desired result quickly, he would have to give up.

"How fascinating."

Song Rong came to his senses and swung his left hand.

The flesh and blood of his arm bloomed like flower stamens, forming in the blink of an eye a grotesquely shaped beast's head that snarled and snapped at Ren Qing.

This was the Skin Peeler's ability—to control one's own flesh and blood, utterly bizarre.

Ren Qing showed no sign of panic. He raised the Great Miao Saber slightly and blocked the beast head's bite.

He knew that Song Rong had stopped at nothing in his scheme to enter the Disaster Aversion Forbidden Zone, and his body had long been overdrawn to the brink of death.

He had laid his plans in advance, controlling the Wild Wolf to attack the Hunter, then forcibly grafting his arm onto the Hunter, along with the stripped Hundred Eyes Eerie Object.

This was also why Ren Qing's Information Flow had failed—because the Hunter's limbs and torso had already become independent individuals.

Ren Qing even suspected that the Dungeon Forbidden Zone incident back then was also Song Rong's doing, a test to see how best to utilize Eerie Objects.

"If you won't talk, then forget it."

His legs underwent a Werewolf Transformation, and he struck again with the blade at a speed Song Rong could not react to.

The flesh-and-blood beast head was severed in an instant.

Song Rong's expression turned amused, and a smile even curled at the corners of his mouth.

The blade was mere millimeters from his throat.

Song Rong said with a smile, "So Ren Qing, you and I are the same kind of person."

"You also have an intense obsession with lifespan, with immortality. But your luck is better than mine—at least you haven't had your path of cultivation severed by an Eerie Object."

His gaze turned deep as he looked at the sky, muttering to himself, "My luck is too poor. I can never make it to the end. Either I die in the Disaster Aversion Forbidden Zone, or I die in the process of advancement."

Ren Qing felt no pity, only a trace of lament.

A ruthless man like Song Rong, in a normal cultivation environment, could have achieved unimaginable feats. But in this world, the eerie and strange held sway.

Simply living was no easy feat.

Song Rong grew fervent, speaking as if in pilgrimage: "Ren Qing, the true method of extending life lies in the Far North..."

I hope the officials will keep reading diligently. In the last two weeks, the results will naturally become clear. When the story goes on the shelves, I will do my best to update as much as possible each day.