Chapter 715 - 638: Pupil Technique—Eternal Imprisonment Corridor!

All that could be seen was a large hole torn open in the ribcage. Between the ghastly white ribs, the heart that should have been beating was nowhere to be found.

But right where the heart should have been, there was a tightly bound sheepskin scroll inserted conspicuously, its surface glistening with a sinister sheen under the streetlight.

"A blessing from the heavens?!"

Xiaojiu’s bloodshot eyes suddenly erupted with a terrifying gleam.

The immense joy that descended from above immediately washed away all grievances, irritations, and the pain brought by the soul-burning technique.

Today, it seemed he’d met with bad luck for eight lifetimes, everything was going wrong, unexpected troubles popped up everywhere, first losing an arm, then aging from soul burning. It was, in short, a tragedy beyond words.

However, as the saying goes, when things reach an extreme, they reverse; when misfortune reaches its peak, fortune arises in its place, and the cycle of luck shifts.

Lo and behold, just when he was searching high and low for it, the sheepskin scroll appeared right in front of him without the slightest bit of effort.

The sheepskin scroll he longed for suddenly fell in such a manner he could never have imagined, landing right at his feet with a "snap."

"Ha—! The heavens assist me! It must be my master’s immense fortune, sheltered by fate!!"

He took a sharp breath, his fingers spread wide and swiftly reached out, grabbing at the mummified chest like lightning.

His hand felt cold and slippery, akin to touching cold human skin. A bone-chilling sensation spread rapidly from his arm across his whole body, causing him to shiver violently.

Yet this chill did not deter him; instead, it made him more certain—the sheepskin scroll was indeed what his master desired.

"That’s mine!"

In an instant, a frigid shout came from the shattered window on the second floor.

The voice was like a blade quenched in ice, carrying a metallic texture, chilling to the bone, causing the hair on Xiaojiu’s neck to stand on end.

He abruptly turned his head towards the voice, and another figure appeared in the window. Who else could it be but [Mask]?

"No wonder [Mask] couldn’t be found, it turns out he’d already infiltrated the secret agent’s villa."

Xiaojiu was deeply shocked, instantly enlightened, piecing together the cause and effect,

"No wonder the Night Watcher chasing Zuo Bai didn’t come out together, it turns out they’d been held up by [Mask]."

He was being watched by [Mask]’s inhuman eyes, and an inexplicable chill welled up from his heart.

No, we had only been apart for a short while, so why does the aura of this monster feel even more terrifying?

It makes no sense, can the growth rate of the Evil Sacrifice host really be this alarming?

Xiaojiu was filled with doubts, but the overwhelming joy brought by the sheepskin scroll in hand and the mission he bore forced him to suppress his fear.

He gave a cold snort, retorting mercilessly:

"Nonsense, your thing? This clearly belongs to my master!"

The education Xiaojiu had received from a young age was that whatever the master desired had to be the master’s, and servants must do everything possible to obtain it for them.

Before the words finished, he didn’t give [Mask] a chance to refute.

He immediately clenched his teeth, once again recklessly urging his soul essence, fanning the flames of an already burning soul.

The look of agony on his face instantly intensified, the veins under his skin squirmed like earthworms, and cracks like broken ceramics appeared on his face.

Yet those bloodshot eyes flickered with a near-mad decisiveness.

"Soul Burning Technique—Second Release!"

With a soul-wrenching scream, Xiaojiu’s life force was nearly exhausted to its limit.

His momentum ascended to its peak, the blood energy surging around his body condensed into solid Gang Qi, strands of blood-colored Gang Qi wrapped around his body like flames.

But that Gang Qi was unstable, its surface continuously erupted with fine blood-like lights, as if it might explode at any moment, threatening to blow him to pieces first.

Xiaojiu knew better than anyone that his frail body was teetering on the edge, and the Gang Qi he condensed could not possibly unleash any massacre, only serve to blast open the air.

"Tear—"

The night, like black silk, was ripped open, a narrow gash torn by the raging Gang Qi, where the air was instantaneously displaced, compressed, vaporized, plowing a straight path through the darkness with no air resistance.

The edges of the path shimmered with unstable blood-colored electricity, as if it could collapse at any moment.

Simultaneously, Xiaojiu’s tiptoe touched the ground, his figure blurred momentarily, the next instant appearing at the end of the vacuum passage.

There was no sound of breaking the air, no whistling wind, because the torn night hadn’t mended, and sound couldn’t propagate in the vacuum.

He strode forward, each step tearing a new vacuum path ahead with the violent Gang Qi, the whole figure flickering silently through the night.

In just a few leaps, the blood-colored figure streaked over a hundred meters, eventually disappearing into the swaying grass in the distance, leaving behind only traces of dissipating blood-colored Gang Qi slowly floating under the streetlights.

"Trying to escape? You’re courting death!!!"

[Mask]’s figure also vanished from the window, the shadows on the wall snaked downwards, causing the withered grass on the ground to stir without wind.

"Whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh—!"

A series of sharp sounds of something piercing through the air suddenly rang out, like a swarm of poisonous bees taking flight, dense thin needles pouring out from the second-floor window.

These silver light beams intertwined into a net, pinning themselves accurately along the shadow’s serpentine path, the sound of needle tips piercing the ground was as fine as rain.

There stood the just and imposing Feng Yuhuai, having put on his black mask, with the broad black robe rustling in the night breeze.

As he was still in mid-air, unwilling to yield, the judgment echoed throughout the night sky:

"[Mask], in the name of the Night Watcher, I am arresting you for the crime of endangering humanity. Surrender yourself; tonight you shall not escape!"

Silver needles rained down, piercing the meandering shadow full of holes.

Under the streetlight, the shadow’s surface manifested countless intricately fine cavity lights, though, in the next instant, the shadow spread over the needle tips, flowing to heal and devour the light spots.

However, due to its healing, its speed was inevitably hindered for a moment.

"Halt [Mask], slay the evil spirits, maintain human order."

A stern command continued to echo from behind, in Feng Yuhuai’s voice, filled with righteous indignation, it seemed to even brighten the night.

The tall Night Watcher seized the brief pause in the chaos, first hastily pulling up his red shorts, tying a knot to firmly secure the last line of dignified defense.

However, this was evidently not secure, ready to burst open at any vigorous movement.

Thus, he decisively skins the fairly intact pants off a headless corpse, putting them on.

Though the corpse’s pants were tight against his sturdy thighs, and his hips hurt from the constriction, with the pant legs barely covering his calves, at least it added a layer of armor, substantially reducing the risk of exposure.

Then, his gaze turned sharp and steady once more, focusing on the twisting, winding shadow on the ground.

Without any hesitation, he decisively abandoned the chase after ’Old Huang,’ shifting his target to [Mask] instead.

In his mind, ’Old Huang’ deserved to die a thousand deaths, not because he almost exposed him, but for rebelling against or attacking a Night Watcher, which was a capital offense.

Of course, making him nearly expose himself also warranted death!

A murderous intent surged within his chest, even slicing ’Old Huang’ to shreds would hardly soothe his anger.

However, he wouldn’t forget that a Night Watcher’s primary duty was always to maintain the purity of humanity, eliminating any monsters or evil spirits that infiltrated the human world.

In other words, the order of execution for [Mask] was definitely higher than ’Old Huang.’

Whether or not his sense of ’justice’ was overly biased or narrow-minded, there was no denying that as a Night Watcher, he truly was strictly adhering to his unwavering principles of justice.

And people like him made up the majority of the Night Watchers.

Thus, with their collective effort year after year, the Night Watchers successfully achieved an astonishing ’negative growth miracle’ in membership, with the number in the ranks setting new historical lows each year.

Likewise, the ones who remained, were elite Night Watchers.

The next second, the tall Night Watcher’s feet erupted in force, his burly body soared through the air like a cannonball, landing heavily on the shadows [Mask] had turned into.

The ground shattered in response, debris flying.

Countless shattered shadows twisted and reassembled in the air, rippling and condensing like ink, finally taking shape abruptly.

The stark white [Mask] was near at hand, a pair of eerie, rotating Kaleidoscope eyes were directed at his, pulling his soul rapidly into them.

Inside his soul echoed an endless reverberation:

"Pupil Technique—Eternal Imprisonment Corridor!"