Chapter 51: Massacre on a Rainy Night

Resentment and hatred, anger and vexation—these things certainly existed, yet they were invariably smothered beneath endless repetitions of "I am only doing this for your own good."

"Do not disgrace me." "Are you not yet satisfied with making a fool of yourself?" "You truly are so devoid of sense..."

The emotional suppression throughout her life, born from various yearnings for love, had in truth never been released.

Even much later, she would come to realize that no one had ever loved her at all. At the end of her life, Tang Rui simply desired to go mad just once.

She raised her head, her gaze filled with boundless sparks of fire, yet tangled with inner struggle.

For in this world, there were still far too many rules and fetters binding everything down.

Wen Xishu was well aware of this. If the apocalypse were still situated in the distant future, if the world were not about to witness the collapse of order...

He would never have extended such an invitation.

If there were ample time, he would have designed an intricate revenge plan—one meticulously crafted yet safely clear of the law's sanctions, much like the protagonists in countless films and television dramas.

Yet if time amounted to less than forty-eight hours, Wen Xishu would choose to undertake those forbidden deeds alone.

The principle of an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth—if placed within a martial arts wuxia tale—might well be greeted with cheers and applause. Placed, however, within a harmonious and orderly reality, it was deemed criminality and brutality.

Fortunately, the apocalypse was approaching.

The era where the survival of the strong reigned as the sole truth was about to arrive. Wen Xishu decided to grant Tang Rui a chance, yet he also left the power of choice entirely in her own hands.

"We have both drunk the wine; you know what that sensation is like. Yet you may also choose not to trust me. Whether you leave or stay, the decision is entirely yours."

Thunder crashed, illuminating the night as bright as day. In that fleeting instant, every light within the bar seemed dim beneath the might of the lightning.

The next moment, Tang Rui stood up as well. Suddenly, she felt a strong impulse to abandon all hesitation, much like how she had allowed herself shortly before to play an unprecedented game of truth with a stranger.

At last, she ceased her struggle and grasped Wen Xishu’s hand.

"Very well. Let us go and kill them all."

...

...

Historically, the torrential rain in Jiangcheng had persisted for three full days, ultimately paralyzing the city's entire drainage system.

Those three days of fierce downpours troubled countless people, but Professor Yan Zhihai was certainly not among them.

Many years ago, Yan Zhihai had understood one simple truth: education could not make him wealthy, but the vanity of parents could.

Take, for instance, the mathematics competition launched by a certain private tutoring institute. He served as both the examiner and the problem setter, and he had personally hyped up the prestige and gold content of these competitions.

Naturally, quite a few parents enrolled their children in the events. Before the competition papers were even finalized, Yan Zhihai conveniently managed to arrange for certain students to know the questions in advance.

Repeating this routine several times over the years had allowed Professor Yan to amass a substantial fortune.

For a certain segment of parents, a child's poor academic performance was akin to a disease, and Professor Yan Zhihai was the renowned physician capable of curing it.

Their children transformed from being indifferent to studies into prize-winners of various competitions. This dramatic shift firmly established Yan Zhihai as a master educator in their eyes.

No matter how inept a student might be at studying, they invariably secured a ranking through the series of competitions arranged by Professor Yan.

Throughout this process, whether the child suffered or endured humiliation mattered not in the least. For outwardly, the parents could boast with pride: "My child has won awards in competitions!"

Yan Zhihai understood better than anyone that the ones truly afflicted with illness were not the children who struggled with their studies, but rather the parents who expected their children to achieve what they themselves had failed to accomplish in their youth.

Such parents were by no means few in number.

Thus, on a stormy night like this, while some people trembled in fear seeking shelter in underground garages or fled in disarray with rolled-up bedding at subway stations...

Professor Yan could recline comfortably upon the terrace of his three-story detached villa, sheltered beneath a massive outdoor parasol, enjoying the sound of the rain in utter ease.

Nor was he merely listening to the rain. At the exact moment the thunder shook the air, a trembling, terrified little girl sat right beside him.

Yan Zhihai felt profoundly happy.

Especially after finishing his phone call with the little girl's parents just moments ago—watching the light slowly fade from the child's eyes filled him with an intoxicating sense of excitement.

He felt deeply grateful to this world. The world was truly wonderful; the morning sunlight was wonderful, the night was wonderful, the torrential rain was wonderful, and the lightning was wonderful.

These parents, who neglected their own children while blindly trusting teachers, made him feel as though everything in existence was splendid.

Many children were terrified of thunder, and the little child beside Yan Zhihai was no exception.

As the child trembled and cast a pleading gaze toward Yan Zhihai—

Yan Zhihai was suddenly struck by inspiration, feeling that he could write an essay encouraging people to let go of their inner obsessions and appreciate the beauty of the world.

Once published, it would surely harvest countless likes, and the parents of these children would marvel at his extraordinary spiritual realm, placing even greater trust in him as an exceptional educator.

The lightning struck once more, and the child finally broke down, weeping bitterly.

The crying of a child was likewise wonderful, yet it somewhat disturbed the refined mood of his literary creation. Yan Zhihai frowned, raised his plump palm, and prepared to strike down.

Suddenly, however, voices pierced through the sound of the rain.

"Are you certain this is the place?"

"There is no mistake. I have never... never let it go. Therefore, I have always quietly inquired about every single detail of their lives."

"Splendid. One must never forget their roots, let alone their hatred. Maintain this wonderful virtue."

Two voices—one clear and the other raspy—sounded as though they deliberately intended to be heard, speaking somewhat loudly.

The little girl whipped her head around and caught sight of two rain-soaked figures appearing at the other end of the terrace.

Yan Zhihai instantly snapped to alertness, shouting harshly:

"Who are you people? How did you get in here? This is trespassing!"

His corpulent body attempted to rise, but he nearly stumbled and fell.

The man on the other side spoke:

"I shall set an example for you first. You may decide for yourself whether to take action. Since you have never done such a thing, you might feel strong psychological resistance the first time.

"Once it is done, however, it is equivalent to crossing a line of no return.

"Yet I still suggest you try. Even if we cannot reconcile with our past selves, we can at least avenge them."

Yan Zhihai’s angry interrogation was entirely ignored by the man. The man wore boxing gloves—gloves that had been christened "Forgot the Keys" by an old madman.

A short while ago, the double-leaf alloy security doors of this villa had been shattered by these very gloves.

Fittingly, it happened right as the thunder rattled the eardrums and Yan Zhihai was relishing the little girl's terror.

The arrivals were none other than the butcher and the avenger of the rainy night—

Wen Xishu and Tang Rui.

Yan Zhihai suddenly felt afraid. Under the influence of some eerie power, he seemed to sense the boundless malice emanating from the intruders.

That malice continued to spread outward.

The light from inside the balcony illuminated Tang Rui's profile, and he felt an inexplicable sense of familiarity, though he truly could not recall where he might have seen her.

Yet the tattoos on her body and her red-and-green dyed hair seemed to remind him of certain rumors he had heard in the past.

Meanwhile, the man stepping closer and closer toward him generated a suffocating pressure.

"Y-You—are you here to rob the place? What are you trying to do? I am a teacher! I am a good person! I have money!"

Thud.

A muffled impact mingled with the sharp crack of breaking bones instantly silenced the corpulent professor.

"You're too noisy," Wen Xishu murmured softly.

Blood had already stained and soiled his gloves, only to be instantly washed clean by the torrential downpour. This single punch landed squarely on Yan Zhihai's skull, and the violent shock sent the professor crashing directly to his knees.

He did not fall completely, however, because Wen Xishu caught him.

"If you kill someone in the future, I advise against wearing boxing gloves, for they are far too blunt."

Before finishing his sentence, he withdrew the hand supporting Yan Zhihai. As the plump body tilted and fell, another heavy blow restored equilibrium to the massive frame.

Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud. Wen Xishu delivered a rapid succession of punches, battering Yan Zhihai's chest, forehead, and bridge of the nose as if he were hitting a punching bag.

Blood vessels began to rupture, turning Yan Zhihai's eyes bloodred. Amidst the excruciating pain, he seemed to remember something.

Yet he could not utter a sound; his throat and mouth were entirely filled with blood.

Tang Rui watched Wen Xishu's relentless assault, every punch aimed at taking a life. A brief struggle flickered within her heart.

If she retreated now... perhaps everything could still be salvaged, and she could return to that familiar world.

That thought vanished in a flash, however. When she heard the weeping of the child not far away...

All those past memories rushed back instantly.

Under the influence of Anomaly Sequence 99: A Whirlpool of Emotions, the fear and hatred carved deep into the soul seemed to take physical form.

At that moment, Yan Zhihai—similarly warped by the sequence’s power—finally recalled everything entirely:

"It's you... It's you... How could it possibly be you!"

Coldness, terror, humiliation, and resentment permeated the depths of Yan Zhihai's psyche.

He seemed to see a tentacled monster tearing apart the body of a young girl.

The monster emitted a sickeningly oily sound—a voice he knew intimately, for it was his own voice.

This was how the girl had perceived him in her heart many years ago.

He also saw that the once obedient and lovable girl was now covered in tattoos, resembling a delinquent frequenting nightclubs.

Tang Rui's body trembled slightly. She stepped forward a few paces and used both hands to cover the little girl's eyes, shielding her from the sight of flesh and bone being shattered, lest it frighten the child.

"You must learn to love yourself in the future, and learn to protect yourself. Do not place your hopes on those who are undeserving, and do not trust that anyone will come to save you. You must grow strong, do you understand?"

The little girl looked somewhat dazed. She ought to have been terrified, yet for some reason, she felt an inexplicable sense of security.

"Be a good girl, leave this place now, and go hide downstairs."

The power of the sequence granted the child a brief moment of tranquility, and she actually turned and fled obediently.

Wen Xishu suddenly stopped his assault because, under the influence of the anomaly, he sensed something else.

Killing intent.

It was an intent to completely pierce through a person's flesh and blood and grind it thoroughly to pieces.

"Can you do me a favor?"

"I am at your command today."

"Thank you. Would you help me drag him into the study?"

"As you wish."

Acting like a dutiful and tireless butler, Wen Xishu wiped the blood from his face and flashed a gentlemanly smile.

He effortlessly dragged the several-hundred-pound corpulent body into the study.

At death's door, Yan Zhihai finally found a moment to catch his breath. He wanted to beg for mercy, but a sudden wave of chilling terror left his mind utterly blank.

When Tang Rui also appeared in the villa's study, she was holding a kitchen knife and a fountain pen.

Her footsteps were light, and she hummed the vibrant, youthful melody from a music box.

Yet even while humming, the raspiness in her voice was unmistakable.

Tang Rui approached Wen Xishu, standing right before Yan Zhihai.

Wen Xishu tactfully stepped back:

"I leave him to you. But you had best make it quick; we have quite a few things to accomplish tonight."

Initially, he had harbored some concerns.

Should Tang Rui awaken a Corruptor trait bound by rules, she might find herself unable to unleash violence.

Fortunately, this was merely the sixth floor of the Tower of Desire, completely devoid of any Corruptors. Tang Rui raised the blade and brought it down fiercely!

The sharp kitchen knife struck a non-fatal spot, but due to the tremendous force behind it, the single stroke still unleashed a torrent of blood—more than enough to prove fatal.

A pig-like squeal finally escaped, but to Tang Rui's ears, it sounded entirely like her own weeping from years ago.

A slash to the shoulder, a stab into the abdomen, a chop to the thigh, a strike to the arm!

Before long, Yan Zhihai lost his balance and collapsed to the floor. His roaring cries lasted mere seconds before weakening and fading due to massive blood loss, leaving a pool of dark, stained red beneath his gargantuan frame.

At first, Tang Rui aimed every blow to torment him, but as that surging hatred erupted from the depths of her soul...

She gripped the knife with both hands and began hacking wildly.

Yan Zhihai's flesh was chopped to a pulp, and foul blood splattered across Tang Rui's face, making her resemble a vengeful ghost demanding a life from the underworld.

Growing somewhat tired, she discarded the knife and instead drove the fountain pen she held straight into Yan Zhihai's eye socket.

Tang Rui had envisioned such a scene countless times: she would slap him, force the fat bastard to solve math problems, and chop him once for every mistake made. She would hum that damned music box tune while slicing the fat piece of meat into pieces, thousand cuts by thousand cuts!

Yet anger caused her to dispatch her target far too quickly. When she finally snapped back to her senses amidst the continuously spurting crimson...

Yan Zhihai was utterly and completely dead, his massive, bloated face reduced to a bloody pulp by the fountain pen.

Tang Rui stared at that face for a long, unbroken moment, and then she burst into laughter.

It was the first time in her life she had ever laughed so heartily and unrestrainedly.

For over twenty years, whenever she wanted to laugh or felt the slightest hint of joy, immediate self-reproach would follow, fearing she would become carried away, that joy would turn to sorrow, and that misfortune would strike the very next second.

As she continued to laugh, tears and snot streamed down her face, and her laughter gradually transformed into loud, wailing sobs.

Because of grievances accumulated over a lifetime.

Amidst the crying, Wen Xishu marveled at the terrifying nature of the sequence.

He understood, to a certain extent, why this girl's experiences had resonated with him so deeply. Perhaps there were indeed overlapping parts of their pasts, but the root cause lay within the Whirlpool of Emotions sequence.

Tang Rui laughed and cried until her face was wet with tears and mucus, both expressions raw and painful, as if she were finally crossing through time to meet her younger self from years ago.

She felt a deep heartache for that child of the past, and that child, in turn, felt heartache for her.

Long after, Tang Rui paid no further heed to the broken flesh and blood pooling on the floor. She stood up, fell silent for a long moment, and then spoke softly:

"Can you... answer one more question for me?"

Wen Xishu smiled:

"I cannot guarantee it will be the truth."

"It matters not. I trust you."

Tang Rui walked out into the rain, letting the downpour wash the foul blood from her body.

"After that fire, did they survive? Do you still care about them? Do you ever think of them on occasion?"

Wen Xishu sighed lightly:

"That is a remarkably lethal question."

He pondered how to phrase his response, falling silent for a brief moment before speaking:

"The effect of the wineglass truly compromises my image. Without the truth-telling wineglass, I would have told you an entirely different version of the story."

Tang Rui nodded:

"I wish to hear your story as well."

Wen Xishu began:

"Without the truth-telling wineglass, I would have told you that I was a freak since childhood, utterly incapable of feeling love.

"In the orphanage, I constantly played malicious pranks, always frightening the other children.

"When my adoptive parents came looking for me, I disguised myself so well that they believed I was an obedient child.

"I never yearned for affection; I merely regarded them as my new toys.

"While they recorded various family bonding videos, I would sit there wondering whether anyone in the world would suspect me if they happened to die.

"Then, out of sheer curiosity, I did just that. The fire burned them to death, and I became a pitiful child in the eyes of the world.

"People sympathized with me, but my only thought was: hurry up and send me to a new family so I can begin another journey."

It truly was a chilling version, as though he were branding himself a natural-born evil seed.

"I desperately wished that had been my genuine experience, for it would have made me appear invulnerable...

"Making me look like a strong individual who had never harbored illusions about those ethereal, illusory concepts.

"Yet, unfortunately, the reality of the situation was that I had long since discovered their love for me was merely a facade crafted to maintain their public image and harvest attention.

"I kept trying to convince myself that this was love, until one day... I overheard their plans and finally confirmed that they did not love me.

"It was also at that moment that I resolved I must survive at all costs, because the world is vast, and I refuse to let unloving people shackle my footsteps."

Tang Rui looked at Wen Xishu, whose tone remained utterly serene.

"What... did you do?"

"Nothing much. I merely accelerated their plans. The fire that was supposed to consume me did not claim my life; instead, it consumed them."

Wen Xishu continued:

"For a period of time, I did indeed experience something akin to withdrawal symptoms, and I pondered certain questions.

"Gradually, however, in the process of surviving, I ceased caring about such things.

"For a while, I became a formidable person, accomplishing some truly cool things. My physical body seemed uniquely suited for dangerous, extreme sports.

"I pushed sports capable of delivering life-or-death thrills to their absolute limits.

"At least in the eyes of others, those were pursuits they secretly yearned for yet lacked the courage to attempt. They derived a sense of reckless joy from me, a thrill of mocking destiny.

"Yet they had their own lives and their own shackles. Working nine to five, raising families to make ends meet—this brought them both happiness and misery.

"They could not become me, nor could I become them. Yet back then, I realized something from their praise."

Tang Rui asked:

"What was it?"

Wen Xishu looked at her:

"Only when we cease caring whether we are loved, and focus on making ourselves whole, can we truly be loved by others.

"Begging for affection from those who leave us broken only renders us more fractured. It is a vicious cycle."

Tang Rui froze slightly.

In her own life, who were the ones that had left her broken?

The answer was painfully obvious.

Yan Zhihai, now reduced to a puddle of mangled flesh inside the house, had indeed harmed her.

He had left her fractured, filled with terror, obedient and timid... inflicting irreversible damage upon her.

Yet she might never have had to encounter such a wretched individual.

Her life need not have been spent inside a parrot's cage. She could have picked up a guitar; she could have chosen to sing the songs she loved.

She had never acted like the children on the internet who resented their parents for being poor or lacking material wealth.

She envied the Children's Palace outside her cage, yet she never, ever dared to indulge in extravagant hopes.

She merely yearned to earn her parents' praise, to receive affection, validation, and a word of encouragement.

Yet through that process, she grew increasingly insecure, sensitive, and broken. When facing the numerous hardships in her later life, she never thought to blame her family, believing instead that she simply hadn't tried hard enough.

She never even dared to contemplate the root cause of it all.

For the first time, however, Wen Xishu's words compelled her to carefully examine the reasons she had become the person she was today.

Wen Xishu said:

"Our circumstances differ. My adoptive parents wanted me dead; if they did not die, I would have.

"Your parents, however, did not intend for you to die. You were never trapped in a life-or-death struggle.

"I despise Freud; he attributes every problem to the original family, resulting in everyone on the internet blaming their parents for their failures in life.

"Yet the vast majority of parents in this world, even if imperfect, genuinely love their children from the bottom of their hearts."

Tang Rui looked at Wen Xishu with a complex expression, momentarily at a loss for words.

Wen Xishu suddenly smiled:

"Did you think I was about to persuade you to stop?"

Tang Rui nodded. But Wen Xishu's smile grew wider:

"Rest assured, I am a petty person. Tang Rui, since I have come here, I am here to drag you into wrongdoing.

"Admittedly, your parents may not have wanted you dead, but living with a profound sense of fracture is far more agonizing than death itself. Fortunately, your innate kindness prevented you from turning into a monster.

"Similarly, countless parents in this world love their children sincerely, and those individuals' hardships stem from their own shortcomings.

"You, however, are an exception.

"Tang Rui, your suffering can unequivocally be blamed upon them. Of course, you could also find a hundred reasons to defend them, provided..."

Wen Xishu enunciated each word clearly:

"Provided they had never laid eyes on that page of your diary."

Tang Rui's body trembled slightly.

Under the influence of the sequence, Wen Xishu and Tang Rui had deeply exchanged their experiences.

Thus, Wen Xishu knew very well... Tang Rui's parents were among the extremely rare breed of genuinely disqualified parents.

At that moment, Tang Rui recalled once more—the abuses she suffered in her childhood were something her parents had known about all along.

That missing page from her diary had actually been torn out by her parents. She had merely deceived herself into pretending otherwise.

And to this day, had it not been for Wen Xishu's arrival, had it not been for tonight's exchange of truths, Yan Zhihai would still be living comfortably.

Other young girls would continue to suffer a fate similar to hers.

This meant that in her parents' eyes, the vanity brought by certificates hanging on the wall far outweighed the safety of their daughter's body back then.

Tang Rui let out a soft breath, and Wen Xishu said:

"Let scoundrels meet a scoundrel's end, and scum meet scum's end. The heavy rain has not yet ceased, little parrot; I have unfinished business remaining. It is time we set forth."