Chapter 120: The Bewitching Mandala-Haunted House(Kafka Luo)

"A fine display of the five blossoms." Luo Hanyai looked at everyone present and let out a bitter laugh. "So you have all been acting this entire time. That heart must be mine; no wonder I felt such agony the moment I saw it."

"Only realizing it now? It is far too late. I have already seized control of everything." Manluo looked at Luo Hanyai with confidence, appearing as though the victory was already in hand.

"Manluo, Manluo..." Ignoring the arrogance and confidence in Manluo's voice, Luo Hanyai muttered to himself, "Are you Mandara?"

Manluo opened her wicked, alluring eyes, tapped her chest, and parted her sandalwood-colored lips to let out a giggle. It sounded like the most potent poison on earth. "I am not just Mandara; I am the Black Mandara."

Luo Hanyai tapped his head in frustration and said with great solemnity, "I still feel I can be saved."

"Perhaps you could have when you first arrived, but now..." Manluo flicked her long, flowing sleeves and made a gesture of scattering flowers. "Struggle all you want, but it will not be long before you completely... vanish into dust!"

"Was that black box the turning point for everything?"

"Yes, and no. But it was the catalyst."

Luo Hanyai looked intently into Manluo's eyes. "May I ask two questions?"

"Why should I let you ask? And even if you did, are you sure I would answer truthfully? How naive." Manluo shook her finger with disdain, her eyes filled with cold indifference, as if looking at prey that had already lost all strength.

"I just want to ask, that is all." Luo Hanyai lowered his gaze, completely disregarding Manluo's mocking attitude, and asked word by word: "First, are you a man or a woman? Second, what is actually inside that black box?"

Manluo did not answer, instead looking at Luo Hanyai as if he were an idiot. "You don't think everything is like those television dramas, do you? Where the villain obediently answers all the protagonist's final wishes, only to be easily killed in return? Should I call you clever, or just overly naive?"

"Think whatever you like. If you can take my life, do it now, and stop your incessant blathering. Who do you think you are? You are nothing more than a thought I manifested!" Luo Hanyai's attitude suddenly shifted one hundred and eighty degrees. He spoke like an absolute tyrant, angrily reprimanding a lowly subject.

"Hahaha, are you so desperate to goad me into saying it?" Manluo laughed with a sinister air. She cast a sidelong glance at the others sitting at the dining table. "Actually, they all know. Why don't you ask them?"

"Manluo, put away your petty schemes. Do not try to stir up trouble. The root of it all is that black box. She is free now, but we are not. We have no choice, and we cannot speak of it." Macarius ruthlessly shattered Manluo's calculations, revealing the truth of their plight.

"In truth, it is nothing. The black box merely contained a crystal. Once I consumed it, I ceased to be just a flicker of spirit in your heart. I am now your split soul, and I am here to contest the ownership of your body." Manluo walked to the table, picked up a cup of Mist Tea, and downed it with intoxication. She smiled triumphantly and casually smashed the cup against Luo Hanyai's head.

In an instant, Luo Hanyai felt his control over his body slip away. It felt as though his flesh no longer belonged to him, and he could only watch helplessly as the cup struck his head, warm liquid trickling down.

"As for whether I am a man or a woman..." Manluo giggled, wickedly hooking Luo Hanyai’s chin, and whispered coyly, "What would you like me to be? I can satisfy you either way."

As Manluo spoke, thick fog engulfed her. When it cleared, a graceful, dancing man appeared.

The dancer wore a slim-fit tailcoat paired with sharp trousers, a vibrant bright purple shirt, a white silk bowtie, and black-and-white brogues. Even without the accompaniment of lights or music, he remained handsome, poised, and elegant. It seemed as though every step he took dictated the rhythm; his movements were light and lively, enough to humble even a world-class dance superstar. His footwork was flawless, exuding such triumph that he seemed beside himself with joy.

How could such a dancer exist in this world, finding such ecstasy while looking at another's blood?

Manluo danced gracefully, spinning lightly around Luo Hanyai, the smile on a face so beautiful it would make women envious growing increasingly intimate.

Manluo bowed before Luo Hanyai, like an actor taking a final curtain call before an audience of one.

"What a pity! Such a magnificent performance, and in the end, you are the only living person here to appreciate it." Manluo pouted and smiled at Luo Hanyai. "Now, what would you like me to be?"

Luo Hanyai looked at the charming, handsome face before him, feeling his stomach churn. Disgust! That was the only word that could encompass his feelings now.

Manluo watched Luo Hanyai's reaction with interest, affectedly forming an orchid gesture with her right hand while swinging her left to slap him. "You wretch, you don't like me like this?"

Luo Hanyai still could not control his body. Just as the slap was about to land on his face, Xiaofeng, who had been resting on his shoulder, weakly raised a finger. A cold chill instantly enveloped Manluo’s hand, freezing it in mid-air. "Enough, Manluo. Stop flaunting your wickedness."

"Xiaofeng, do you think this is still the past? Whatever that dead mother of yours fought for is nothing to me now." Manluo loudly struck at Xiaofeng's deepest pain, treating him with utter contempt.

"You..."

"Cough, cough, cough!"

"Damn it!"

"Cough, cough, cough!"

A flush of blood rose to Xiaofeng's face, turning it a deep crimson in an instant. Flames burned in eyes that had never shown a flicker of emotion before. Though he coughed incessantly, he did not seem weak; rather, he radiated oppression and dread.

"Oh? You consumptive ghost, are you trying to threaten me? I will make sure you cannot even remain a ghost." Manluo, having been suppressed by Xiaofeng for far too long, harbored a deep grudge, wishing to see his soul shattered into nothingness.

"Cough, cough, cough!"

Xiaofeng coughed violently for a moment, as if gathering the strength for what was to come. His eyes returned to a deathly stillness as he looked at Manluo with extreme seriousness, as if gazing at a corpse. "I do not care whom you insult, but you should not have insulted my mother."

"Today, even if my soul is destroyed, I will make you die!"