Chapter Thirty-Six: Confrontation

To be honest, when I threw the chair, I didn’t use much strength… After all, I was facing a woman who seemed delicate and frail, and if I killed her outright, who would I turn to for the antidote to the venom? Yet I truly hadn’t expected the chair to be of such poor quality; as I flung it, it fell apart in midair with a clatter. But what surprised me even more was that, instead of dodging, Little Jiu’er was struck full-on by the broken chair and knocked to the ground.

I was utterly perplexed by this scene, thinking to myself: didn’t she seem so formidable before? How could she not even avoid a chair? Soon enough, though, I understood. After all, Little Jiu’er was nothing more than a pitiable blind girl. Blindness is blindness—though she could use her intelligence, or perhaps even some kind of "mind reading," to disguise herself as normal, her sight could never be restored. Because of her words earlier, I had overestimated Little Jiu’er’s abilities. She wasn’t some superhuman versed in witchcraft; at least physically, she was simply a disabled person.

Having worked this out, I began to regret my rashness. She was, after all, the “key”; if I truly angered her and she refused to cooperate—or, worse, killed herself—then Xian Hongye and the others would have no hope of survival. So I reined in my earlier frenzy, and, under Wang Hou’s stunned gaze, sheepishly waved at her and said, “Hey, are you all right? I was wrong, I shouldn’t have hit you! You’re still young, there’s no need to take revenge on the world. Medical science is so advanced now—maybe your snake ailment can actually be cured…”

Before I could finish, Little Jiu’er got to her feet. She seemed completely unscathed. “Your will is strong…” she smiled, speaking as she smoothed her hair and raised her head.

The sight of her face filled me with both shock and regret—enough to make me instantly remorseful for my reckless, impulsive actions. Little Jiu’er’s fake glass eyes had been knocked out of their sockets by the blow from the chair. What remained on her face were just two dark, empty hollows.

My regret was overwhelming. Staring into those deeply gouged, blood-black pits, both Wang Hou and I were completely softened. In truth, I genuinely felt sympathy for her hellish, nightmarish fate—sold into Laos, chosen to be the “vessel” for snake eggs, her eyes gouged out, starved and tormented… Any one of these miseries alone would be considered inhumanly cruel, yet she had endured them all and still lived on with the tenacity of a cockroach. Her perseverance and spirit were truly remarkable.

Confronted with this woman’s true visage, Wang Hou and I, stricken with grief and confusion, failed to take any decisive action at all… Being too soft-hearted is, indeed, a flaw. Yet what happened next was unexpected; our hesitation cost us a critical opportunity.

At that moment, Little Jiu’er’s demeanor changed completely. Her expression darkened as she took a step back and sneered, “You all deserve to die! Including that woman!”

Her words sent a chill down my spine. I immediately shouted, “Wang Hou! Stop her! She’s going after Hongye...” I didn’t finish the sentence, but it was already too late. Little Jiu’er quickly retreated several steps and slammed shut the door to her private dining room.

Wang Hou reacted swiftly. As soon as she backed away, he braced himself on the table, leaped into the air, and delivered a flying kick with all his strength at the door. With a dull thud, he bounced off, unable to make a dent.

“Damn,” Wang Hou muttered as he steadied himself, rubbing his numb leg and pointing at the door. “Is this a prison door? It doesn’t budge an inch!”

I, meanwhile, was growing frantic. “We have to get out! If we don’t, Xian Hongye is as good as dead!”

“What about the door?” Wang Hou asked.

Without thinking, I pulled out the Swiss Army knife I’d kept at my waist for so long.

Just as I was preparing to act, the room’s orange-red light flickered a few times and then went out. In the darkness, both Wang Hou and I froze.

You always fear exactly what comes next.

Once my eyes adjusted to the gloom, I called out Wang Hou’s name and, hearing his reassuring answer, felt my heart settle a little. I then took out my phone, turned on the flashlight, and told Wang Hou not to make any sudden moves.

By the glow of the phone, I saw Wang Hou standing by the iron door, looking thoroughly dejected.

“So close,” he muttered, knocking on the iron door in defeat. “If anything happens to Hongye… how will we answer to her mother?”

Hearing his words, I couldn’t help but feel a strange amusement. His greatest “virtue,” perhaps, was how quickly he could become completely devoted to someone. Once he set his sights on someone, he’d find his “role” in an instant, as if he couldn’t prove his loyalty without dedicating himself entirely. That’s why he always ended up being played by women! Smart, but no emotional intelligence.

So I could only comfort him, saying that Little Jiu’er was blind and couldn’t move fast—she might not even find our hotel. Even if she did, there was no guarantee she could get in, so there was no need to worry too much.

As for the iron door, I chuckled and pulled out my Swiss Army knife. “Did you forget? With this knife, what’s there to fear?”

I handed the knife to Wang Hou. To be honest, though it was a decent knife, it was a domestic knock-off—a “counterfeit,” really. It was actually a gift from Wang Hou, who’d also taught me a set of tricks for using a “reverse-grip dagger” and some lock-picking skills. The reason he’d given it to me and taught me all that was because he’d lost a bet to me back in the day—lost badly, in fact.

But I had no time for nostalgia. I handed the knife to Wang Hou, urging him to hurry and deal with the door so we could chase after Little Jiu’er.

My words seemed to snap Wang Hou back to reality, reviving his skills and memories. He nodded, turned to take the knife, and as he did, grumbled, “Bu Er! You sure were ruthless when you beat me that time—if it hadn’t been for…”

Before he could finish, he suddenly stopped, staring at me as if he’d discovered something extraordinary.

“What is it?” I asked, puzzled by the strange look on his face.

Wang Hou’s hand slowly pointed toward my shoulder.

“Don’t move!” he whispered, barely daring to breathe.

I didn’t understand. Why was all his attention focused on my right shoulder? Was there something wrong with my wound?

Just then, from the bite wound on my right shoulder—a wound left by the doorman, A Si—I felt a faint, cool sensation.

The hastily bandaged wound seemed to be picked open by something’s mouth.

…Something was licking my wound.

The odd sensation made my skin crawl. It was my own wound, after all, and the chilling, tingling feeling seemed to scratch at my heart, setting every nerve on edge.

Wang Hou told me not to move, but I just couldn’t help it!

Who could remain calm while some unknown creature was licking their wound?

So, I turned my head—

And saw, at the site of my shoulder wound… a white parasitic snake.

A “large snake” nearly half a foot long.

It was definitely not newly hatched—its whole body was slick with moisture, and apart from its slender form and the flickering tongue, it bore little resemblance to an ordinary snake. In fact, it looked more like a disembodied tongue than a serpent.

The snake was greedily sucking at my blood. It slowly opened its mouth, revealing rows of tiny, sesame-seed-sized teeth, tearing away the bandage and prying open the scabbed wound bit by bit.

Suddenly, I realized—it intended to enter my body through the wound!

The moment this disgusting thought occurred to me, I couldn’t hold back and let out a reflexive scream.

That cry, however, only made things worse.

Startled, the snake instantly changed direction, aiming its head at my face.

It gaped its mouth, flicking its tongue at me and making threatening "hissing" noises.

Seeing that pink, writhing thing, goosebumps erupted all over my body. I suddenly felt that it was far too close to me; I had no idea whether it was venomous, but I did know this: I couldn’t move my hand at all, let alone try to grab it.

It was on my shoulder—and my injured shoulder at that. If I provoked it, it would burrow into my wound or mouth in an instant, and then… I’d be infested with the parasite.

The fate of being parasitized—one need only think of Xian Hongye’s uncontrollable hunger, or glance at Boss Bai’s severed neck—to understand how terrifying that prospect was.

I couldn’t move. Moving meant certain death.

So I pinned all my hopes on Wang Hou.

He understood immediately, and slowly reached toward my shoulder. I knew he, too, was afraid of startling the snake, fearing it would dart into my wound or mouth at any sudden movement.

Time seemed to stand still, the air thick with tension so great I could scarcely breathe.

I sat motionless, sweat soaking through my jacket.

When Wang Hou’s hand was less than three centimeters from the snake—though it could only have been five or six seconds, it felt like the longest few seconds of my life.

Every moment was nerve-racking, unbearably intense.

With a sudden motion, Wang Hou seized the snake’s raised head.

It writhed, snapping its blood-red maw at me in futile rage, but it no longer posed any threat.

“Damn!” I exhaled the stale air from my lungs, cursing the little monster, “You’re nothing—your mother couldn’t best me, and you dare try your luck?”

As I spoke, I turned to Wang Hou, gratitude and relief flooding my face—only for it all to drain away into ashen dread.

Wang Hou, seeing my sudden pallor, killed the parasite and asked in confusion, “Bu Er, what is it? Is there something on my face?!”

“Don’t move! Not another inch…” I ordered.

Because on his shoulder… there were at least five pink, wriggling “tongues” crawling.