It wasn't enough. The black flames retreated steadily under the assault of the red fissures, and a terrifying aura spread, blurring Wu's consciousness.

Devour, slaughter… like whispers of a demon, beguiling it.

It needed to devour more doors. Only in this way could it avoid being abandoned again.

It never wanted to experience that feeling of being discarded like trash a second time.

No one was trustworthy. It could only trust itself, trust the blade in its hand…

The blurred vision gradually focused, the pupils contracted into a slit. Wu stared at Jiang Cheng's sleeping face. That man was still completely unaware.

"Kill him."

"Devour his door."

…

Faint voices stimulated it, eroding its last vestiges of consciousness.

The red fissures continued to devour Wu's body, compressing the black flames to the neck. Just as the fissures were about to break through the critical point, Wu caught a glimpse of the small table out of the corner of its eye, and the tightly closed, unremarkable drawer.

Its gaze flickered for a moment, then it abruptly twisted its head, crashing towards the window.

No glass shattered. The black shadow, almost entirely enveloped by red fissures, passed through the window in a bizarre manner, disappearing into the vast night.

…

Several hundred miles away from Rongcheng.

In an old, three-story洋楼 (yanglou, Western-style house) located in the suburbs, an elderly man with thinning hair slowly awoke.

He was in better shape than he looked, and he wasn't usually one to get up in the middle of the night, but lately, he couldn't sleep.

After all, he wasn't here on vacation, but to hide. To put it bluntly, he was running for his life.

The old man rested his hands in front of him and lay there for a while, but sleep still eluded him. Finally, as if something was weighing on his mind, he sighed, got up, got out of bed, grabbed a piece of clothing and draped it over his shoulders, and walked towards the door.

He opened the bedroom door, walked along the corridor, and headed towards the study on the other side.

But before he reached the study door, he stopped. The study door was ajar, and light seeped through the crack.

There was someone in his study!

Who could it be?

He was the only one with a key to the study!

Without time to be afraid, the old man immediately reached for the pistol at his waist.

There were some documents hidden in the study. If they were stolen, it would be a huge problem. He didn't know how many innocent people would die at the hands of those guys.

He pushed open the door. The study was quiet.

Only the desk lamp was on. By the light, he could see a figure sitting behind the desk, in the old man's place, but strangely, with their back to him.

It was a man.

Recognizing the clothing the figure was wearing, the old man slowly lowered his gun. Although he was somewhat puzzled, the old man had identified the person.

It was the captain of the small team that the higher-ups had sent to protect him.

"Captain Zhou," the old man said, putting away his gun and speaking in a slightly dissatisfied tone, "What are you doing in my study so late? If there's anything important, you can come directly to me..."

Before he could finish speaking, he heard a "creak-" The swivel chair slowly turned around.

In the instant he saw the man sitting in it, the old man's hair stood on end, and a chill ran from the soles of his feet to the top of his head.

The man in the swivel chair raised his head exaggeratedly, his mouth wide open, his eye sockets hollow, his muscles contracted, and his purplish-blue skin was dry like tree bark.

It was a mummy!

In just half a night, Captain Zhou, who was responsible for his safety, had turned into a mummy!

Before the old man could recover from his shock, a charming laugh rang out, "Hehe, Old Mr. Huang, don't be afraid. This little girl greets you."

"Who?!" The old man immediately raised his gun and aimed it at the source of the sound.

From a dark corner of the study, a妩媚 (wu mei, charming) woman emerged.

The woman covered her mouth and giggled, her slender waist twisting like a boneless snake.

The woman looked at the old man with a bewitching expression, her gaze filled with provocation. This aura that emanated invisibly was the most deadly.

"Old Mr. Huang," the woman sighed affectedly, "You've lived such a long life, how can you still not understand the situation?"

"Our people have contacted you many times, and the price we've offered is enough for you and your family to live comfortably for the rest of your lives, but you just won't listen and insist on opposing us."

"Now look, your whole family is going to die. Why are you doing this to yourself?"

"Also," the woman smiled contemptuously, glancing at the mummy in the chair, "You found a team whose captain is barely at Grade B to protect you. How little do you think of us Night Watchers?"

The old man pulled the trigger without hesitation, but a bizarre and terrifying scene unfolded. The hand holding the gun visibly withered at a speed that could be seen with the naked eye, as if it was being drained of blood.

"Ah! Ah ah... Ah!" The pistol fell to the ground, and the old man clutched his withered right hand, unable to stop himself from screaming, cold sweat streaming down his face.

"You're really taking the road to hell when there's a path to heaven." The woman didn't move, raised her chin, and sneered.

"You... you people, won't have a good ending!" The old man roared in pain, "Someone will take care of you!"

"Perhaps, but Old Mr. Huang, you and your family won't see that day." The woman stuck out her slender tongue and ran it over her red lips.

"Snake Woman, don't waste words on a dead man, we have another target." Another man's voice rang out in the room, rough like a handful of sand in his throat.

"Don't be impatient, Sand Devil, we have plenty of time." The woman stared at the suffering old man, the light in her eyes as if she were admiring a work of art.

Sand Devil and Snake Woman were codenames. They were both humans, disciples who bore doors, and belonged to the Night Watchers' special department.

Even the Night Watchers' executive department didn't know that within their organization, there was such a terrifying assassin team.

They only obeyed the orders of the Night Watchers' highest echelons, and they were one of the trump cards that the Night Watchers had secretly prepared.

With a "crack," the room fell silent. The old man's neck was twisted by a strange force.

No, not just his neck, the old man's entire body was twisted grotesquely, as if he had been wrapped in an invisible giant python and then suddenly crushed.

"Tch, old geezer." The woman drew out a dagger, swayed her waist, and walked towards the old man's body, not caring at all.

But just as she crouched down, suddenly, an icy hand grabbed her ankle.

It was the old man!

Under the horrified expression of the female assassin codenamed Snake Woman, the old man staggered to his feet. All the bones in his body had been crushed by a great force, and at this moment they writhed bizarrely, and his bloody face turned towards the Snake Woman.

"How… how could this be?" The Snake Woman struggled, but the old man's hand was like an iron clamp. "Sand Devil, quick, save me! Save..."

But her cries for help were clearly useless, because the Sand Devil, on whom she had placed her hopes, had already died before her.

The mummy had also come to life, and was now using its sharp fingers to pierce the Sand Devil's chest, tearing out his heart.

With a crisp "crack," the woman's neck tilted to the side, and she completely lost her breath.