Ch58 – The Villain Dies From Talking Too Much

Sponsored Content

The coffin slammed shut again.

Everyone in the temple cast looks at each other, baffled as to the situation. 

Xu Su and Xu Sen, standing to one side, gave a start before hastily attempting to pry it open, many newcomers then crowding around to lend a hand.

However, the combined effort of the ten or so people was unable to pry it open by even an inch, and the lid remained as though it were nailed to the coffin.

 

 

After a long time, someone then asked, faltering, “Isn’t… Isn’t Grandma Yin de-dead?”

Wasn’t that right? Everyone saw it.
Not only did they see it, but they’d even touched it.
There were definitely no signs of life at all and the corpse was disfigured beyond recognition.
It was dead, irrevocably so. 

But, just now, everyone had clearly witnessed the white-haired young man being forced in by a surge of power.

 

Was it possible that it was, as Black-Robed Azan had said, a resurrection?!

The bullet chat also started to flood the screen in a frenzy.

[WTFFF, did Grandma Yin’s corpse zombify? Dafaq that was terrifying.]

 

[Ah?? Did the Magician’s task fail? Nooo!]

[He’s even been hauled in already.
Check how still the coffin lid is; it’s really looking grim for him.
/candle.jpg]

[I don’t know, there’s no news from the system.
Usually a notification pops up when the main task fails.
They should give confirmation whether he’s dead or alive, no? I’m going to faint.]

[What the heck is this all about? /patting my dimwitted brain in consolation.jpg] 

When Zong Jiu noticed the coffin had been opened from the inside, as well as the sensation of that ice-cold and unyielding puppet string winding around him, he had already said in his head: Crap.

But what he didn’t expect was that he’d actually be pulled directly in.

The force didn’t permit any room for resistance.
Before sparks from flint were produced, by the time he recovered, the vermillion lid of the coffin had descended with a crash like a jackhammer.

Zong Jiu, “…” 

The inside of the coffin was oppressively dark and cramped.

He was an adult male over 1.8-metres in height.
After being pulled in, he found it difficult to move his limbs.

It was as though he were fixed in place by puppet strings.
Unlike the few threads tied to Anthony’s head that were easy to rip off, every thread here was difficult to shake off, firmly trapping his hands behind his back.

Sponsored Content

In a frame shorter than a second, the white-haired young man had become a hapless fish on the chopping board, pulled forward by that force, knocking heavily against an icy chest. 

By this point, Zong Jiu was grinning with rage.

He was already lying in the coffin; this had to count as negative distance between him and Grandma Yin’s corpse, no? Yet the system remained as quiet as a mouse, not emitting a single peep, with nary the faintest desire to inform him that he had completed his main task.

 

This could only point to one thing.
Whether Grandma Yin’s corpse was audaciously swapped out or moved someplace else, in any case, it wasn’t in the coffin.

He had made a terrible blunder.
Since the Devil was controlling Black-Robed Azan, even if the control was shallow, it wouldn’t be without a purpose.
Who would have thought that placing Grandma Yin’s corpse inside the coffin wasn’t meant to increase the difficulty for him but to catch him like easy prey wandering into a snare. 

Zong Jiu thought that he had pitted No.
1, but he didn’t expect that the other had actually kept a defensive play like this.
Wasn’t this the proverbial ‘a person who regularly walks by the river cannot avoid getting their shoes wet’?

While Zong Jiu didn’t speak, the Devil observed his flickering expressions with considerable interest.

There was only that much space in the coffin.
Even if this coffin was much larger than average, it wasn’t so much that two people could lie inside with ample space to spare.
So, inevitably, their two bodies were tightly overlapped together.

We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection.
If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.

One body was warm whereas the other was ice-cold; like the sweltering heat of summer and the harsh depths of winter, they didn’t converge.
If anyone saw them, perhaps they would even think that the two of them were a married couple buried together. 

“Qts, sbe vjgfv ab wjxf j wbnf jujlcra ws qeqqfar yea vlvc’a jcalmlqjaf atf mbcrfdefcmfr?”

Ktf wjc mtemxifv.

Ycf bo tlr tjcvr ijcuelvis absfv klat atf ktlaf tjlg fcvr atja tecu vbkc bnfg tlr mtfra, ktfgfjr atf batfg tjcv rilv eq ab atf sbecu wjc’r yfjealoeiis rmeiqafv pjk.

Ibcu Ale rcffgfv.
“P vlvc’a fzqfma atja atf ecabemtjyif Rb.
1 kbeiv jmaejiis rafq boo atf qfvfraji, fzfgmlrlcu tlr jeatbglas pera ab vlrqbrf bo j ibkis J-gjcx.” 

Did it really fall outside Zong Jiu’s expectations?

In actuality, he did consider it.

His ability just happened to counteract the Devil’s.
Moreover, time and time again, he’d excavated ground on No.
1’s territory.
Zong Jiu had even killed his puppets twice.
They weren’t children playing house; how could he be naive enough to believe that the other wouldn’t come for his head?

However, Zong Jiu seriously didn’t expect that the Devil would actually go as far as to exercise his authority, persistently embarking on this thousand-mile murderous rampage. 

To the Devil, his status as the instructor wasn’t too significant or insignificant.
Zong Jiu had guessed that this identity came with major restrictions, or the Devil wouldn’t have folded his hand in Las Vegas when under threat back then.

So what completely blindsided him was that No.
1 would actually dare to openly defy the rules set by the system and appear in person in this instance.

The puppet strings from the true source were much harder to deal with than the puppet strings from a manipulated puppet.

Zong Jiu discreetly made a valiant attempt behind his back to no avail.
He couldn’t loosen a single thread, let alone free himself of them, and could only helplessly rest his elbows against the lid of the coffin. 

The Devil arched his brows, not exposing his futile little motions.
He lowered his voice instead.
“Because you’re really… too interesting.”

So interesting that he couldn’t resist the temptation to destroy him with his own hands.

Sponsored Content

 

White gloves trailed down the jawline to the slender, swanlike neck.

The fabric brushed against the pale skin with an icy touch that stirred shiver after shiver from danger. 

Without a doubt, the neck was indisputably a fatal area on a human body.

The Devil took immense satisfaction in watching the pupils of those pale pink eyes contract instinctively and the dip in the collarbones concave further due to the chest tensing in nervousness, suffused with a lovely faint hue.

Like a cat with its hackles raised upon encountering danger, he thought absently.

However, the cat in front of him was about to encounter much greater perils. 

The slender, dark-golden eyes narrowed.
All of a sudden, the man bent his knees, as if by accident, pressing evenly against the other’s chest, forcing the latter to incline his head slightly.

Their hair was intimately woven together, black and white crisscrossing.

The strength exerted forced Zong Jiu to raise his head in this position.

He could feel the back of his head was already touching the lid of the coffin, yet no matter how hard he pushed upwards, the lid didn’t budge at all. 

The man caressed the back of his neck, murmuring in a low voice.

“What should I do, I’m suddenly a bit reluctant to kill you.”

Yet, seemingly in contrast to the suggestive tone in his words, his ice-cold fingers abruptly tightened.

A chilling murderous intent silently permeated the cramped, dark space, causing all of the muscles on Zong Jiu’s body to involuntarily pull taut. 

Eyes as malicious as a venomous snake roved across the young man’s flawless face, as though in anticipation for a worthy-enough expression to please him under the heightening pressure and the looming threat of death.

Zong Jiu suddenly scoffed.

A hand was clearly tightening around his neck, yet he lazily lifted his gaze as though utterly unaffected.

“If you want to kill me, then kill me; don’t speak nonsense.” 

He was obviously mired in a disadvantageous situation, but he was without the slightest shred of fear, conversely continuing to provoke death.

In imminent danger, this courage alone was a sight to behold.

 

It was only now that No.
1 finally took a good look at this prophesied nemesis.

Undeniably, his ethereal features were so stunning that they blurred the line between conventional beauty standards of sexes. 

But what struck people most was the blazing meteor light in those eyes.

Sponsored Content

In this boundless darkness that constricted all movement, these eyes were so bright that they seemed to hail from a distant galaxy, like photons birthed from the collisions of particles in a star.

It could have gone anywhere in the far recesses of the universe, yet it chose to come here, to an existence born from distorted malice.
It was trailed by a transient plume of meandering splendour, casually crashing into a pair of dark golden eyes, setting everything aflame.

The ice-cold fingers loosened marginally. 

Hybrid hues of green and red, like a mottled flower, burst into bloom across the delicate skin, possessing a sadistic beauty.

The Devil was slightly surprised.
“You’re not afraid?”

“Yeah, I’m not afraid.”

Due to the grip on his throat, Zong Jiu’s words came out in broken fragments. 

But he didn’t only not stop his mouth, he’d kept inciting relentlessly.

“Not only am I not afraid… I’ll even tell you a secret.”

The tingling sensation, like being scratched by a cat, returned.

No.
1 stretched his limbs, interest crossing his expression. 

He leisurely straightened his slightly dishevelled cuffs.
“Let me hear it.”

The puppet strings lifted, twisting the young man’s hands from behind his back in order to secure them above the head, allowing their master to more easily admire the expression of his prey as death approached.

Feeling the force, Zong Jiu cursed inwardly.

If the strings really were raised, wouldn’t the small actions of his hands behind his back be completely exposed?! 

Fortunately, Zong Jiu reacted in time.

To conceal the actions of his hands, he could only bend down, left with no choice but to plaster himself to the Devil’s body.

 

There was only so much space in the coffin, its confines long exceeded by the two people that now fitted inside.

This space seemed isolated from the sounds outside.
It was as quiet as a grave buried deep underground in eternal silence; the other trainees’ chatter couldn’t be heard, nor was the coffin shaken by the struggle just now. 

The young man’s countenance didn’t stop nearing and magnifying, his long hair drooping down both sides of his face.

The narrow, long ends of his eyes were tinged red from the lack of oxygen.
In the darkness devoid of any light, his face appeared even more beguiling, like an incubus that fed on human vitality.

They were very close to each other.
So close that their breaths were intertwining.

Warm breaths and icy exhales collided; a scorching inferno met a glacial winter, neither willing to be outdone. 

When the tips of their noses were about to touch, Zong Jiu spoke.

Sponsored Content

His thin lips parted and pressed together.
His voice was hoarse, yet his words were doused in extreme conceit and assertiveness.

“The villain… dies from talking too much.”

The next second, a resplendent firelight suddenly burst forth from the darkness. 

It wasn’t the luminance contained in the young man’s eyes, but real, vivid firelight.

The coffin made of red cedar was sturdy and thick, yet it was highly flammable.

The tip of the torch that suddenly appeared in Zong Jiu’s hands licked the lid of the silent coffin; in an instant, the grease fire set the wooden coffin ablaze.

Extreme heat and intense fire ignited the narrow space, spreading a raging sea of flames. 

Sparks and wood splinters dyed with flames fell, rustling, lighting the hems of clothes.

The young man’s smile was delighted and reckless, the corners of his lips rising in mania.

He copied the low-pitched voice that the Devil loved most to use, suggestive and brimming with chilly, murderous intent.

“How’s that for partaking in person, Mr.
Devil, you probably haven’t savoured the taste of death before, have you?” 

Their eyes locked amidst the sea of fire, surrounded by the groaning of wood hollowed out by fire and collapsing, creaking and rattling, like the coming of the apocalypse.

“Indeed, I’ve never been able to experience it before.”

 

Those dark golden eyes had changed from its former indolence.
The smouldering fire that seared to the bottom of the heart, coiled around the raging fire, released the shackles on most warped and darkest viles in the world, and freed them from their cages.

The smile on the perpetrator didn’t waver. 

If anyone were to see this scene, they’d probably scream in fright.

Because what they’d see was two madmen, not only unmoving but also relaxed in the face of death, similar smiles gracing their faces.

Against the ghastly backdrop of flames, the Devil unhurriedly removed his white gloves.

The tips of his fingers, as cold as a cellar, were also scalding hot, smeared with warmth from his boiling blood. 

The Devil laughed heartily as he released the grip around the young man’s neck, changing to cage him uncompromisingly before his chest, sealing off all possible paths of escape.

His laughter was hoarse, yet it was subtly different from the reaction he gave when he was pleased in Las Vegas.

“—My deepest apologies.
I’ve changed my mind.”

Everything around them had transformed into blazing infernos of flames and ashes. 

In each other’s hold, embracing each other with vehement killing intent, they sank into a fiery hell together.