“Of course,” said Zhu Yan. Seeing him like this, her expression softened with a hint of tenderness as she smiled faintly.
However, in Wang Buzui’s eyes, everything had changed. Even the gloomy prison cell seemed filled with light.
The portrait before him was no longer just a painting. Xiu’xiu’s silvery laughter echoed in his ears, settling deep in his heart. Her figure was indistinct, shrouded in mist.
“Xiu…” Before he could utter her full name, the mist dissipated, and the figure vanished. Everything seemed as if it had never happened. Wang Buzui looked up at Zhu Yan.
“Was that Xiu’xiu just now?” He was confused, completely immersed in Wang Xiu’xiu’s smiling face, unable to distinguish between illusion and reality.
Perhaps one who could believe in resurrection didn’t want to distinguish between the two.
Zhu Yan nodded in affirmation. His defensive walls crumbled instantly, and he smiled foolishly. Suddenly, he crawled on his knees to Zhu Yan and began kowtowing:
“Please, let me see her once more.”
Seeing this, Zhu Yan felt a twinge of sympathy. Indeed, the most hateful people often have something pitiful about them. So, after obtaining Shen Du’s consent, she employed her illusory techniques again. Thanks to Jing Lin’s cooperation, Wang Xiu’xiu’s image appeared once more, this time even more clearly. Her appearance and demeanor were identical to the portrait.
“Xiu’xiu!” Wang Buzui called out softly, afraid of frightening his little sister away. He dared not approach, his eyes blurring with tears. “Xiu’xiu, your brother has missed you so terribly.”
Now he was completely immersed in the illusory world—the world where Xiu’xiu existed.
Zhu Yan felt anxious. Her illusion techniques were not her forte, and she feared she couldn’t maintain it for long. She wasn’t sure if it would be effective.
Shen Du, of course, noticed this. With his vast experience, he took Zhu Yan’s hand to encourage her.
They had discussed the illusion technique with Jing Lin as soon as they arrived. Although Zhu Yan wasn’t confident, Shen Du’s full support and cooperation gave her the courage to be so bold.
If it didn’t work, they would have to think of another way.
“Xiu’xiu was very close to me since childhood. We depended on each other for survival,” Wang Buzui said.
At that moment, he seemed to see again the scene of the little girl running towards him. Snippets of their childhood flashed before his eyes, mostly scenes of Wang Xiu’xiu holding his hand and skipping along beside him.
Although many years had passed, that radiant smile remained etched in his mind, impossible to forget.
He smiled again, but his expression froze in the next second, turning eerie and sinister.
“But good times don’t last. Xiu’xiu died young,” he said. As he spoke these words, his heart seemed to split open. This was a fact he could never accept.
The youthful face before him gradually calmed him.
“What happened?” Zhu Yan asked after he fell silent for a while.
Hearing her voice, Wang Buzui’s body trembled slightly, but he quickly composed himself. “Xiu’xiu was killed by a local tyrant.”
His gaze turned vacant as he sank into the hatred of those years.
He couldn’t understand how that tyrant could harm such a young girl.
When he saw that tiny body completely devoid of life, Wang Buzui’s breakdown was something only he could comprehend.
That face, usually filled with smiles, had lost all color, turning pale and cold. He desperately wanted to cut that tyrant into a thousand pieces, to mince him into meat paste, but even that wouldn’t quell his hatred.
So he vowed that he would avenge Xiu’xiu, no matter the cost.
“Later, someone told me they could resurrect Xiu’xiu and punish all the evil people in the world. Of course, I agreed,” he sighed deeply. He had been on the brink of madness then. As long as Xiu’xiu could be brought back to life, as long as he could avenge her, he would believe anything.
“Why wouldn’t I believe it? I had no reason not to.”
For a person consumed by vengeance, it was a lifeline—a straw to grasp at when drowning.
“I helped that person establish the Guangchun Hall, and he put me in charge.”
Back then, Guangchun Hall outwardly practiced medicine and charity, earning a good reputation. Privately, they were training “Half-faced Ghosts” to kill.
The first person killed was the tyrant who had murdered Wang Xiu’xiu.
Wang Buzui did it himself.
He deliberately chose the exact time when Wang Xiu’xiu had been killed, and even the surroundings were nearly identical.
Seeing the panic on the tyrant’s face as he approached death, Wang Buzui felt an indescribable joy. He made sure to mention Wang Xiu’xiu to the tyrant.
However, perhaps too much time had passed, or maybe the tyrant had bullied too many people and couldn’t remember how many lives he had taken. The tyrant didn’t remember him or kill a little girl. Wang Buzui immediately stabbed him in the arm.
Pain gnawed at his heart as he watched the masked figure before him, filled with terror.
Then Wang Buzui stabbed the tyrant all over his body, watching him bleed, beg, scream in pain, convulse, and curse. He felt an unspeakable satisfaction. Finally, he plunged the knife into the tyrant’s chest, killing him on the spot.
Seeing him breathe his last, Wang Buzui stood up, but he didn’t feel the least bit relieved.
Looking down at the tyrant’s twisted face, he smiled vacantly and murmured, “Little sister, your brother has avenged you.”
He crouched down, staring at the tyrant’s chest for a while before using his knife to cut out the tyrant’s heart. Only then did he feel somewhat better.
He ate the heart raw, wanting to prevent the tyrant from entering the cycle of reincarnation, lest he meet his little sister again and bully her.
Afterward, the Half-faced Ghosts of Guangchun Hall would emulate this when taking revenge, taking away parts of their victims’ bodies.
The unique modus operandi and the Half-faced Ghosts’ masks gradually spread their reputation.
Initially, they killed only local tyrants who oppressed the common people, so cases involving the “Half-faced Ghosts” were often left unsolved or hastily concluded. In the eyes of the people, they were heroes who punished evil and promoted good.
However, later on, the Half-faced Ghosts’ behavior began to deviate. More and more innocent people were harmed.
As more cases were reported, the authorities began to take notice and started investigating seriously.
Every crime leaves traces, and Mo Qianzhi was a capable and outstanding prefect. Under his relentless efforts, it was discovered that the murders in the Gannan region were all related to the “Half-faced Ghosts,” but even though they were identified, no one could be caught.
Due to the extremely cruel methods used in the crimes, people became terrified. Gradually, even the common folk dared not mention the Half-faced Ghosts.
They feared they might be next.
Wang Buzui paused his narration and looked at Shen Du, who appeared to be deep in thought.
“What about Mo Qianzhi?” Shen Du asked.
“Him?” Wang Buzui chewed on the name in his mouth.
That Mo Qianzhi, thinking back, aroused both resentment and helplessness in Wang Buzui.
He was indeed very capable, but Wang Buzui couldn’t quite figure him out as a person.