The sound of bones fracturing echoed, followed by the sickening crunch of internal organs rupturing. Even the faint, grisly sounds of grinding teeth and sucking blood reverberated in his ears...

For some reason, he suddenly recalled a deep melody he had heard somewhere before.

So gentle, so peaceful.

Perhaps, today was a good day to die.

He numbly closed his eyes.

The Crow Tengu met its death.

「. . .」

When the roaring finally subsided, the screams and moans ceased abruptly. The dust and Ashes that had billowed into the air settled with a rustle.

From within the ruins, only a maimed figure slowly emerged.

She was almost falling apart.

Her white dress was riddled with tears, one eye was blind, both arms were broken, and one lower leg had been crushed to pieces, yet a faint, dazed smile still touched the corners of her mouth.

The ultimate victor appeared before all spectators, yet no cheers or even warm applause sounded in the venue.

There was only silence.

An asphyxiating silence.

In the pervasive chill, the gentle smile on the screen stung everyone's eyes.

As they understood what that seemingly blissful smile truly represented, everyone subconsciously held their breath.

They felt fear.

A chill ran down their spines.

"Incredible..."

Di Ting let out a sigh, unsure whether it was out of awe or amazement. "Is this what they call a genius?"

In front of the television, an old man holding a protein shake lowered his eyes indifferently.

A genius? Perhaps.

Perhaps the Talent she possessed had already surpassed the realm of common understanding... But this overwhelmingly vast Talent, was it a blessing from Fate or a Curse?

In the silence, only the ringing of a phone could be heard.

The name Zhu Hongchen appeared on the screen.

The old man calmly answered, "I've seen it."

"..."

After a long silence, a weary voice came from the other end of the line, "I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry about. It's nobody's fault," Luo Lao said indifferently. "You've just been misinterpreting her nature all along and still held onto the hope that she could return to a human life."

"..."

Zhu Hongchen remained silent. After a long while, he said, "I'll handle it."

"This is beyond your scope to handle, nor is it your concern," Luo Lao shook his head. "Don't worry, I can handle it."

"Is there no other way?"

"None."

The old man asked, "Other than killing her, how else could she be set free?"

"..."

In the prolonged silence, the call disconnected.

The old man put down the phone, leaned back in his chair, and stared at the smiling face on the screen. After a while, he closed his eyes. Is it really... inevitable?

He chuckled softly.

Was he proud of the evil fruit he himself had sown, or was he mocking his own past naivety?

Twenty years ago, when he realized his path had reached its end, he quickly accepted an outcome that might have been a Thunderbolt from a clear sky to others.

So calm it frightened him.

Beyond that... he had merely made a wish.

He wished for someone to inherit all he had, hoped for someone to surpass him, hoped for someone who would outshine the teacher.

Later, he met a woman in Hell.

Two years after that, he opened the door and saw a swaddled infant on the steps.

From that day on, he knew his wish had come true.

The infant who appeared at his doorstep grew strong and quickly. Even though he was not adept at raising children, she tenaciously survived his rough methods of upbringing. Then, she revealed an unbelievably incredible Talent.

He himself had once been ecstatic at the emergence of this Talent.

When did he first realize just how abnormal this Talent was?

He had ignored too many anomalies; its twisted nature was obscured by this unprecedented Talent...

Until one day, he crossed the police tape and entered the wrecked classroom, where he saw six-year-old Luo Xian.

The lonely girl stood among her classmates' corpses, studying her teacher's contorted face in death. She then turned blankly to look at her father.

"Father, have you come to take me home?"

"Why did you kill them, Xiao Xian?"

He squatted down, gazing into his daughter's eyes. Then, he saw the joyful smile on her face, a smile that came from the depths of her heart.

"The teacher said we were going to play a game."

A game.

"..."

From that moment, he realized the source of the abnormalities plaguing the child.

Only in the death of something could she find joy.

Only in killing something could she feel happiness.

Only when she herself was on the verge of death could she feel so-called love...

The Abyss had indeed granted his wish, fulfilling his prayers to the letter and in the way he desired. But the blessings it bestowed were too abundant, too generous.

So generous the human world could not bear it.

From that day on, he taught Luo Xian nothing more. Yet he still couldn't stop her from growing day by day, nor his wishes from being realized.

Like a monster that had come into the world of humans.

No matter how exquisite her appearance, it could not hide the abnormality in her Soul.

She had never grown or learned anything from the life of being human. Rather, to her, everything common to ordinary people was a profound act of pretense—the shackles and chains of a cage.

Eventually, her fleeting childhood would end.

She would answer the call of the Abyss, return to Hell, discard her human shell, and become some kind of monster that even she herself would fear.

But not now, not today.

The old man slowly raised his head, staring at the blank scroll on the wall, finding amidst the void the answer he had long held in his heart.

Perhaps this insincere game of familial love should never have started.

'Love' was too luxurious for people like them.

Thankfully, he still had time to write an ending for this game.

「. . .」

Huai Shi snapped out of his reverie.

The manuscript before him silently transformed into a beam of light. As if its task was complete, it circled twice before vanishing into thin air. Then, the cello in his arms also disappeared into the air.

In the audience, the fire in the Skeleton's eye sockets had extinguished at some unknown point.

Yet, for some reason, its face seemed to retain a serene smile.

Huai Shi was still immersed in the wondrous feeling from moments before.

Within the brief, tranquil melody, he felt as if he had attained liberation and peace, soaring carefree through the sky, gazing down upon distant turmoil and strife.

Silently observing everything that had nothing to do with him.

He glimpsed those insignificant deaths ascending into the sky, vanishing into the Dark World behind the overcast clouds.

Those few minutes felt as long as three or four days; all his Source Substance was completely exhausted.

He was nearly depleted.

Then, inexplicably, he had an epiphany.

When he habitually opened his Book of Fate, he discovered that his long-dormant Cello Performance skill had mysteriously advanced a level—a pleasant surprise.

But what baffled him even more was that the accursed skill, Death Perception, had also inexplicably jumped from Level 1 to Level 2.

What had happened?

He held the Book of Fate, examining it over and over, utterly bewildered.

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