A sharp pain exploded in his back. He turned his head to the right and saw the fatty stabbing him. He wanted to grab the fatty and beat him senseless, but…
Then another.
And another.
The blade kept going in—again and again. It continued until it made 12 to 15 horrible, deep cuts.
Zi Fan's movements grew slower, his legs went weak, and he collapsed to the ground.
"Brother, what did you—"
The muscular man froze, unable to finish.
Coming to his senses, the fatty's legs gave out, and he sat on the ground.
"I—I didn't mean to… I… what have I done?!"
"Blood…?"
Blood gushed from Zi Fan's back. His hand pressed tightly against it, but it was no use. Soon, the ground was stained red.
His face turned terrifyingly pale. His vision blurred.
"Am I going to die, then?"
His hands slipped toward the blood-stained ground.
His will to survive faded… yet a faint, relieved smile appeared on his lips.
"Did you regret?" a faint whisper came to his ears.
"Regret…? No. This… this is better than living like a coward…"
"But I feel a little regret, though. I want to kill that fatty bastard… And I swear, if I have a second life, I shall never show kindness or sympathy to my enemies ever again." He gritted his teeth.
On the ancient tower, those two red cards appeared again.
In his dizziness, the whisper came again.
"I could give you a chance to live one more hour, hehe… but for that, you have to sacrifice your soul to us."
"Do you agree?"
For some unknown reason, he felt his mind become clear.
He began to process the information, but the whisper didn't want to give him time.
The sound came again from all directions. "You have 10 seconds."
10, 9, 8...
Hearing the countdown, Zi Fan didn't think anymore. "Agreed."
He was already dying—what worse could happen?
His spilled blood began to move, twisting into an ancient formation that glowed faintly.
From the clock tower, those red cards watched silently.
Suddenly, Zi Fan stood up. His body was perfectly fine, as if he had never been injured.
"T-That's impossible…!" The fatty, who had been looking at Zi Fan's dead body with hollow eyes, couldn't help but scream in fear when he saw the sudden movement.
Hearing the fatty's scream, the muscular man, who had been thinking about how to hide the dead body, looked up—and what he saw, he vowed he would never forget… of course, if he lived long enough.
Zi Fan's pair of eyes stared at him with a warm smile, but the muscular man couldn't feel any warmth. Because of those eyes—what kind of eyes were they? There were no black pupils, only white.
Feeling something was off, the muscular man turned to run. But after a few steps, he stopped. He glanced back—Zi Fan's gaze had already shifted to the fatty.
To protect his brother, the muscular man ignored his fear and moved forward to attack Zi Fan.
But he was shaking. He didn't understand what had happened to Zi Fan's body or how he was still alive.
In his mind, there was only one thing—distract this zombie, or whatever it was, and save his little brother.
Zi Fan really didn't expect the muscular man to come back. He had been thinking about how to kill the fatty bastard, but from behind, a wind-cutting sound came—and boom, it landed on his head.
But surprisingly, Zi Fan didn't feel any pain. "…Right. I'm dead."
A beat—then he burst into laughter. "Hahaha! So this is what I've become…" he thought.
The fatty and the muscular man, who heard Zi Fan's wild laughter after he got hit, felt their legs grow weak from fear.
It's not that the muscular man isn't brave or strong; he wanted to run, but there is a more powerful emotion called family love, and that can even make a human face death. His legs trembled—but he stepped forward anyway.
"Little brother, run!" the muscular man shouted and again threw many jabs and hooks, but it was no use. Zi Fan didn't know why he could dodge effortlessly.
"Was it the sacrifice… or something else?"
He didn't care. He only wanted to kill the fatty.
The fatty weakly stood up. Zi Fan thought the fatty would run away, but unexpectedly, he came closer toward Zi Fan.
"No, brother, don't!" the muscular man shouted, and Zi Fan thought, "Does he want to stab me again?" A faint curl appeared on Zi Fan's lips.
The fatty came near, then moved his knife-gripping hand forward and said in a begging tone, "Take it… do whatever you want to me. Just don't kill my brother." He burst into tears.
Hearing the fatty's words, the muscular man and Zi Fan froze for a moment. But the muscular man reacted quickly and hit Zi Fan's face with a hook. Zi Fan stumbled back a little.
He shouted while attacking Zi Fan, "No, brother! I wouldn't just leave—"
But before he could finish his words, Zi Fan twisted his body and struck his neck.
"Thud."
The muscular man collapsed, unconscious.
Seeing this, the fatty screamed, "Don't hurt my brother, please!"
Zi Fan glanced at him with a wide smile. He didn't speak. The road fell into deadly silence.
Cold sweat fell from the fatty's forehead. Even his breathing became lighter.
"Okay," Zi Fan's chilling voice broke the stillness.
Then he stretched out his hand. "I accept your request. Come and die," he said with a relaxed expression.
The fatty's face turned intensely pale. He trembled backward and hid the knife behind him. "No, no, please don't kill me…" He fell to his knees. "I was wrong," he begged.
If Zi Fan had looked at him with anger or hatred, the fatty would surely have given the knife to him. This trick had always worked before. But he forgot Zi Fan is a joker; his job is to play with human emotions and psychology.
But today, seeing that relaxed expression and those emotionless white eyes, he truly felt that if he gave the knife, this joker would kill him.
Zi Fan's smile vanished. "Do you think this little trick would work on me?" he said coldly. "Pathetic…"
Tap, tap. Zi Fan walked toward the fatty and circled around him. "But do you know… your big brother really loves you?" He stopped and pointed his finger at the muscular man. "Look at his face," he said to the fatty.
The fatty obeyed. He didn't know why, but he felt that if he didn't follow this joker's instructions, surely his head would roll on the ground.
"Should I wake him up and show him his little brother's true face?" A devilish whisper came to the fatty's ears.
His body tensed, and he began to sweat all over.
Zi Fan whispered again, "I'm giving you two choices: kill yourself… or I shall expose you and then kill you myself." He paused. "And of course, whichever choice you make doesn't matter. I will spare your brother's life."
Zi Fan circled him in silence. He was waiting… waiting for the fatty's answer.
And the fatty only stared at his brother's face as tears fell from his eyes. When Zi Fan's voice reached his ears, his mind went blank. Every one of Zi Fan's footsteps felt like a heartbeat to him.
Tap… tap… tap.
The fatty slowly brought the knife close to his neck and took a final look at his brother's face. He whispered, "Live well, brother." Then he stabbed himself in the neck.
Blood gushed out, and his body dropped to the ground.
Zi Fan watched the corpse silently. A faint smile appeared on his face.
"Finally, I did what I wanted," he murmured and looked toward the clock tower. "Hmm, I have 50 more minutes to live." His white eyes became even whiter. He moved closer to the fatty's body and took the knife.
"Manager Chen, today you'll experience hell." Zi Fan walked forward toward the circus train.