Agonized screams echoed from the outer room. Zhu Yan ignored their pleas and went to investigate.
Several pools of fresh blood stained the floor. Lai Luofu’s hands had been severed, exposing bloodied white bone. She writhed on the ground, her body entangled in silk threads that gathered dust as she rolled, appearing grayish like the maggots Zhu Yan often encountered during autopsies. Lai Luofu’s face was contorted in unbearable agony.
Jing Lin clutched a porcelain vial, his gaze cold as he looked at Lai Luofu: “Oh, she said she wanted to die, so I made her swallow poison again.”
Shen Du glanced at Jing Lin with surprise. Realizing his mistake, Jing Lin immediately bowed and apologized: “I acted without consulting you, Hall Leader. Please punish me as you see fit.”
Shen Du’s expression darkened, but he remained silent. Beside him, Pan Chi clapped enthusiastically: “Well done, Jing Lin! Do you have any more? Give her a few more doses.”
Jing Lin shook his head: “No more. I’ve used it all.”
Pan Chi gave Jing Lin a thumbs up, filled with admiration.
Zhu Yan trembled. Noticing this, Shen Du took her hand and squeezed it gently, his voice soothing: “Don’t be afraid. This is what she deserves. For someone like her, dying a thousand times wouldn’t be enough.”
Compared to those she had murdered, this suffering was nothing.
“Mm, I know. I’m fine,” Zhu Yan replied. She wasn’t one to confuse right and wrong. Lai Luofu had poisoned her multiple times and attempted to poison Shen Du and those close to her. She felt no pity for Lai Luofu; she was merely momentarily shocked by the gruesome scene.
As for Lai Luori, provided he willingly admitted to being the mastermind behind the Fire Moth Party, there would be no need to openly confront him and his associates.
“Save me,” a delicate voice suddenly rang out. It was in the language of Da Zhou but spoken somewhat stiffly.
Everyone turned to look. The voice had come from Lai Luofu. In the deep of night, an eerie change seemed to have occurred.
“Did you all hear that?” Zhu Yan noticed that Lai Luofu’s expression had changed from the earlier grimace of pain to one of sorrow and worry. But in an instant, it reverted to Lai Luofu’s usual demeanor, and the clear, beautiful voice vanished.
Everyone present was trained in martial arts and had naturally heard it. Shen Du observed closely for a moment, then shook his head: “It’s likely just Lai Luofu playing tricks to frighten us. Don’t believe it.”
But the young girl’s voice had been so full of fear, so real. Zhu Yan remained alert, her eyes fixed on Lai Luofu.
Someone stepped forward, blocking her view. Lai Luofu raised her head, meeting Shen Du’s downward gaze. Her eyes darted to the vial of antidote, revealing a desperate desire to live.
“Tell us about Lai Luori’s connection to the Fire Moth Party,” he opened the porcelain vial, pouring out one pill into his palm. His eyes narrowed. “And their next move. This antidote could be yours.”
It was a clear transaction. The choice was entirely Lai Luofu’s. One antidote pill stood between life and death.
Lai Luofu gritted her teeth and closed her eyes, seemingly preferring to die in agony rather than confess.
“Speak quickly.”
Shen Du’s tone was icy, his gaze terrifyingly cold, tinged with murderous intent.
“I am immortal. No one can kill me,” she sneered. “Even if I die now, someone will find a way to resurrect me.”
“You mean Lai Luori?” Shen Du scoffed his expression a mix of derision and skepticism. “Too bad. He won’t have the chance.”
Fear flickered in Lai Luofu’s eyes. “You… what are you planning?”
“To feed your corpse to the wolves,” Shen Du threatened. “Let’s see if the wolves will allow you to be reborn.”
But Lai Luofu remained obstinate: “My spirit is indestructible. With or without a body, I am immortal.”
The two were at an impasse.
Seeing Lai Luofu’s certainty, Zhu Yan recalled a detail they had overlooked: “Wang Buzui also used Xiu Xiu and Du Xiaowan to resurrect his sister, Wang Xiuxiu.”
This meant Lai Luofu was telling the truth. They didn’t need Lai Luofu’s body to perform the resurrection ritual.
Shen Du didn’t even raise an eyebrow, coldly stating: “If that’s the case, perfect. We’ll grant your wish.”
Shen Du put away the antidote, completely at ease.
Suddenly, Lai Luofu began gasping for air as if drowning, clutching at her throat and emitting low, animal-like whimpers with her head bowed.
As Jing Lin was about to step forward to check on her, Lai Luofu abruptly raised her head. Her eyes were bloodshot, her expression sorrowful. She opened her mouth and cried out:
“Save me!”
This time, however, she spoke in… the Wusun language. Su Guang’s expression changed instantly, his whole body swaying for a moment.
Pan Chi and Shen Du, who naturally understood as well, exchanged glances, both seeing disbelief in each other’s eyes.
Looking back at Lai Luofu, she had returned to her previous state, like a drowning person who had found their senses at the brink of collapse. She eyed them warily, seeming to sense her oddity, silently mouthing:
“Is she back?”
After so many years of dormancy, how could she still not be dead?
Zhu Yan understood the lip-reading, her brows furrowing as her confusion deepened.
The white silk continued to spread over Lai Luofu’s body, sprouting like bamboo shoots after rain from the wounds on her hands and the opening near her right atrium, extending across her entire form.
Everyone watched this scene in silence, hoping it was just an illusion.
At this moment, Su Guang was the first to step toward the dying Lai Luofu. Pan Chi grabbed his arm, but Su Guang said, “It’s fine,” and shook off Pan Chi’s grip, approaching Lai Luofu.
Su Guang crouched down and said something to Lai Luofu. She suddenly raised her eyes, her blood-red pupils fixed on Su Guang.
Seeing this, Su Guang spoke a few more words. The bloodshot look in Lai Luofu’s eyes dispersed, replaced by anger and fear. She used her severed arms to cover her head, feeling a throbbing pain in her temples as if they were about to split open.
Her mouth kept moving, alternating between the languages of Da Zhou and Wusun, too chaotic to make out clearly.
Finally, her body convulsed a few times before going limp on the ground, as if she had been pulled from water.
“It’s me,” a young girl’s clear voice emerged from Lai Luofu’s body, speaking in Wusun. She looked at Su Guang, the anger in her eyes fading to sorrow.
Their gazes met, and the room fell so silent you could hear a pin drop.
Shen Du’s brows furrowed deeply, his lips pressed tight, his expression grave as he pondered the scene before him.
Previously, when he had infiltrated the Fire Moth Party’s headquarters at night, he had heard a young girl’s voice in Chen Huoe’s tent. Later, Mo Qianzhi had warned him with his dying breath to be wary of Chen Huoe’s dual personality.
He was aware of Lai Luofu’s multiple identities and personalities, so he hadn’t considered this angle before. He had never witnessed a second personality emerging from a person’s body.
Moreover, this other personality seemed to be from Wusun. How could a Wusun person reside within the body of Lai Luofu, who had never left Central Plains?
The investigation, which should have been cleared up, was now shrouded in even more mystery. Just how many dirty secrets was this Lai Luori hiding?