Chapter Ten: Hospital Tales (VII)

The instant the mid-tier demonization began, Luo Hanya caught a glimpse of the old man in the black robe, whose mocking smile suddenly vanished, replaced by an expression of utter coldness.

“Could it be…” Luo Hanya’s heart plunged into despair, but the agony of mid-tier demonization, far exceeding that of the initial stage, left him unable to think.

“Aaah—” This was no longer a feigned performance like before; Luo Hanya truly felt as if countless knives were slicing through his skin, carving bloody fissures that then formed new crimson patterns, brighter and more savage, soaked in blood. He could not tell how many of these patterns appeared, but with each one, waves of pain crashed over him, and he howled in torment, dying and reviving in an endless cycle.

At last, the pain began to ebb. As the torture, akin to death by a thousand cuts, faded, Luo Hanya’s eyes lost all vitality, as if every trace of life had been extinguished by suffering. “Huh…huh…cough, cough…” Even his vocal cords seemed destroyed by ceaseless screaming; he wondered why he had not been forcibly logged out by the system—he had already fainted several times.

“Hmmph, where’s your arrogance now? Did you think I wouldn’t see through you?” The old man’s voice rang out, mocking and harsh. “Boy, today I’m teaching you a lesson: never play tricks in front of someone far stronger than yourself. Power is the root of all things. I’ve used only a little means, and you’re already reduced to this state. Remember! The one tormenting you is named Black Crow!” At last, the old man revealed his name—Black Crow. Once, this name struck terror in countless demons, and was hailed by many humans as heroic. Now, he was one of the highest-ranking demons in the Frost Hell. How ironic; perhaps the humans who once betrayed him never imagined the story would unfold this way.

“Cough…huh, huh…you…” Luo Hanya struggled to speak, but his vocal cords no longer obeyed—he could not utter a single word.

Now, Luo Hanya knew he had fallen into utter hopelessness. “Perhaps this script can only proceed to this point,” he thought calmly. “There’s nothing left to regret here… except… Shan Shan…”

Thinking of Shan Shan, still in danger, tore at his heart once more. The pain in his heart seemed to eclipse the agony of his flesh. Luo Hanya strained to rise, pressing his hands against the ground, but it was as if fate would not permit it.

A chilling sound, “crack, crack, crack,” came from Luo Hanya’s spine, as if something was growing there. He felt as though his backbone had shattered, his whole body stiffening, followed by more ominous cracking.

If anyone stood beside him, they would see bone wings sprouting from his spine, the source of those dreadful sounds.

Luo Hanya crashed heavily to the ground. The bone wings ceased growing, but he felt as if his marrow had been siphoned dry, unable to move a single muscle. He lay collapsed, as the system’s voice echoed:

“Energy insufficient. Mid-tier demonization terminated.
Demonization backlash.
You are now paralyzed. You cannot move or speak; only your mind is active. A 30-minute countdown begins. If no special events occur, the script will be deemed a failure, and you will be logged out automatically after 30 minutes.”

Though paralyzed, Luo Hanya’s mind continued to race. “If I die, so be it—it’s only a game. But Shan Shan—I don’t want Shan Shan to die too!” Unable to control his emotions, tears spilled from his eyes, rolling down his cheeks and splashing onto the ground in a glittering pool.

“The last time I saw such tears was when I was still human.” Black Crow watched quietly, unexpectedly refraining from ridicule, sighing with a hint of sorrow. “Back then, I was betrayed by the humans I had sworn to protect, framed by the Fear Demon. Had it only been betrayal, I wouldn’t have shed such tears. But they sent my sister to the pyre.” At this, even Black Crow trembled, choking on his words. “She wasn’t my real sister; she wasn’t even human—just a spirit, a weak one. When I was wounded, she gave everything to protect me, so I treated her as my sister, closer than kin. She smiled so gently—no, sisters are the gentlest in the world. But gentleness is a crime; it was her gentleness that led those vile humans to seize her! As she burned, I was bound to the pyre across from hers, forced to watch her fade away, powerless to save her. Even as she died, she smiled with tenderness, and her tears fell—the same tears, tears of love.”

Luo Hanya watched Black Crow lost in memory: at times ferocious, at times choked, at times smiling like a child. Though Luo Hanya could not change his expression, nor even speak, he felt a deep sympathy for the tears Black Crow described. His guard against Black Crow faded, replaced by pity. He understood that Black Crow, too, was a tragic figure; and he knew that those pitied often have reasons to be hated. Luo Hanya could vaguely guess what Black Crow had done afterward, which was precisely why he had always been wary.

As expected, Black Crow’s face twisted with rage as he glared at Luo Hanya. “Humans deserve to die! Had it not been for those ungrateful wretches, how could I have fallen to become a demon?”

“You’re… too… obsessed… Not… all… humans… are… evil…” Luo Hanya unexpectedly managed to speak, though his words came haltingly, like a child learning to talk.

“Ventriloquism?” Black Crow resumed his cold demeanor, looking icily at Luo Hanya, who was trying to speak through ventriloquism. “Of course I know not all humans are evil. I never said I’d kill them all.”

Hearing this, Luo Hanya felt a wave of relief, his whole body relaxing a little.

“I only kill guilty humans. And the guilty make up more than ninety percent, I’d say,” Black Crow remarked lightly.

“I am far more rational than you think. Don’t bother trying to persuade me. Use up your last bit of energy, then descend to hell.” Black Crow sneered, making a gesture of decapitation.

“How… do… you… judge… that… ninety… percent… are… guilty?” Luo Hanya was frantic, struggling to speak, but Black Crow had no patience left.

“Enough! Silence, damned human. I owe you no explanation.” Black Crow cruelly interrupted, stretching out his right hand toward Luo Hanya and murmuring, “Puppet Spell.”

Luo Hanya felt himself lifted, moving with Black Crow’s finger as though he were a marionette.

Finally, Luo Hanya stood beneath the place where the return path marker once was, and silently recited a spell, “With my bones and blood as guide, open the gate of return.”

Before the words had faded, heaven and earth resounded, blizzards raged, and a slender black fissure appeared in the void.