When magnesium powder meets water, it produces hydrogen gas. When it encounters open flame, it explodes with extremely high temperature that shoots straight into the eyeballs, utterly unbearable—the pain like a chisel driving straight into the skull.
That little demon suffered excruciating agony, his brain going numb. It took him two full breaths before he began to howl.
Zhou Yan had already pulled his hand back to avoid burning himself.
Just as the brute opened his mouth to scream, Zhou Yan’s left hand was already wrapping the coarse outdoor rescue clothing into a large bundle, ruthlessly stuffing it into the fellow’s mouth. Two fingers thrust straight down his throat, preventing him from crying out.
At the same time, he knocked the guy down and pinned him.
Zhou Yan’s heart pounded wildly, but his intense desire to survive and the suppressed fury burning in his chest made his strength grow threefold.
The demon’s eyes were in agony, his eyeballs nearly cooked from the high temperature. He couldn’t scream.
He thrashed about, but was held down.
Before going blind, in his fire-red vision, he saw a pair of fierce pupils.
Human eyes.
Black and white distinct.
Zhou Yan’s right hand grabbed the Swiss Army knife from his lower back. With a flick, the blade emerged. Taking a deep breath—honestly, his body was still trembling somewhat.
Fear rose, but fierce courage rose even more.
Gripping the knife in reverse, he stabbed down hard.
The finger-length blade pierced through the demon’s eyeball.
The fellow finally managed to let out a shrill, miserable scream from his stuffed throat—the sound was muffled. His body convulsed violently, shuddered once, then moved no more. Zhou Yan maintained his stabbing position.
He held it for several breaths before stopping.
His fingers released, and he gasped heavily. The strength from moments before vanished instantly, his arms and legs going somewhat weak. He exhaled and collapsed there, muttering:
“Fuck.”
“Scared the hell out of me.”
The dead demon had no response.
Zhou Yan didn’t rest much. He had to hurry. Sitting up, he planned to strip the demon’s clothes to put on himself, but froze slightly when he saw with his naked eyes a wisp of black qi floating up from the demon’s corpse, then flying toward him.
The next moment, Zhou Yan felt his brain buzz.
He sensed that in his mind, or rather in the deeper layers of his consciousness, a scroll appeared—a scroll that seemed to have always existed there. Only after killing a demon with his mortal body did it awaken.
…
The birthday banquet for Granny Nanshan the Weaver was set for three days hence, but many demons had already arrived today. This manor, being one of the subordinate forces under the workshop master, still had to prepare food and drink to entertain these guests.
Just as that jade scroll manifested in Zhou Yan’s consciousness—
Every demon in the manor, large and small, froze in place.
Whether drinking, eating, or gambling with dice, they all stopped at once. Then they either whispered, spoke aloud, or muttered in their hearts—all saying the same thing:
“Smells so good—”
Butcher Zhao sniffed and murmured: “How is it so much like that human we caught today? No, that’s not right…”
“It’s even more fragrant than that human.”
…
Zhou Yan stripped the demon’s clothes and put them on himself.
This nearly made him faint from the stench.
His vision went black—he practically saw his great-grandmother.
After swaying for several breaths, he barely managed to steady himself.
Looking at his own clothes that he’d only worn a few times, his eye twitched with heartache. But in the end, he still put this fine outfit on the corpse, then arranged the fellow in a side-lying position, as if he were sleeping.
He grabbed some pot-bottom ash to smear on his face, then headed outside under cover of darkness.
At first, he walked very cautiously.
After two steps, he suddenly felt something was wrong. What proper demon would sneak around so furtively on his own turf? Looking at his reflection in a nearby water vat—face black as coal, wearing loose dark blue robes, slovenly and unwashed for who knows how many days.
A rusty cleaver hung at his waist, hemp shoes with ear-flaps on his feet.
Being overly cautious would actually make him stand out.
Thoughtfully realizing this.
Zhou Yan cursed with a laugh. Being timid and cowering—what was there to fear? He pulled his collar open more, making himself look even more slovenly and unrestrained. First he ambled, then walked with purpose, and finally swaggered boldly outside.
Not at all like someone who’d been captured, but rather like a local demon.
As for the jade scroll in his mind, Zhou Yan had no time to ponder it. He only knew it couldn’t be opened yet—the treasure seemed to have its own spirit and hadn’t yet recognized him. Zhou Yan was too lazy to care; he just wanted to get out of here.
He was naturally bold and had a casual disposition.
Now slightly freed from his predicament, his courage expanded. He carried a lantern as he walked out.
When he encountered patrolling lesser demons along the way, he didn’t dodge or avoid them, but actively struck up conversations.
The local demons of this manor assumed he was a servant brought by Third Granny the Weaver. The outsiders thought he was a newly added demon to the manor. Zhou Yan carried his lantern with torn sleeves rolled up, swaggering freely and at ease.
He even managed to get directions from a drunk demon carrying wine, pretending to be an outsider and saying he was ordered to go buy something.
The drunk demon was befuddled and believed him about eighty percent. Slurring his words, he said:
“Ha, easy to find, easy to find, brother. You, you go straight ahead, past where us brothers are drinking, toward the big scholar tree. Take the third small path next to it and you’re set. We brothers take the simple route—none of that winding around.”
“We can’t very well take the same path the old ladies used, right?”
“Ha, thanks, brother!”
Zhou Yan laughed twice and even swiped the drunkard’s wine flask. Soon he reached the place, only to discover it was a kitchen. Going inside, there was a small partition. Pushing open the door, he saw the main hall outside filled with grotesquely shaped demons drinking themselves senseless.
Further ahead was the exit door.
Did he have to slip past this bunch of drunk demons?
Zhou Yan exhaled—he was getting nervous again. His palms were sweating. If his human identity was exposed, he’d probably be torn apart alive.
While thinking this, he was already acting nonchalant, greeting the cook responsible for feeding these lesser demons. Carrying the manor’s wine flask, he moved toward the front. His gaze swept over and froze slightly.
He saw a table nearby.
Hanging from taut ropes were various cuts of meat.
Among them was an arm—thin, with rough calluses on the palm. Those fingers looked familiar, like the ones that had touched Zhou Yan’s wounds earlier.
Zhou Yan’s steps paused.
The image of that woman from before flashed through his mind.
A sense of compassion, melancholy, and inexplicable fury rose in his heart. He knew he was currently in a very vulnerable state himself, but even so, even as a weakling, that fire in his heart simply couldn’t be extinguished.
Even the ice and snow of fear couldn’t quench the most primal human anger and sense of injustice in his heart.
Zhou Yan still had his reason. He clenched his fists, then released them, carrying the wine flask as he walked outside. The cook came clattering out at that moment, calling: “Tell them not to make such a racket—new dishes coming right up!”
“Good meat personally brought by Third Granny the Weaver’s godson!”
“What a treat!”
Zhou Yan smiled and agreed, catching sight from the corner of his eye of a thirteen or fourteen-year-old girl being brought out, face deathly pale, eyes full of terror. Her frightened gaze darted around until it landed on Zhou Yan, then stopped abruptly.
Her pupils visibly dilated.
Zhou Yan inexplicably realized from those eyes that this little girl had recognized him as human.
Zhou Yan’s heart lurched, and he unconsciously thought:
“Damn, please don’t scream! If you scream, I’ll get caught too.”
The next second, he felt a twinge of moral shame about that thought.
But the little girl, after her moment of shock, didn’t speak. She closed her mouth, immediately looked away from Zhou Yan, and stared straight at the demon. Though terrified, she didn’t cry for help.
In front of Zhou Yan was that door—carry the wine flask, blend in, walk past this group of demons, and outside would be the exit. Behind him was the pot-bellied demon sharpening his knife, and a human about to be eaten.
Fear and the desire to survive surged within him. His gaze wavered.
But he saw that arm, and the calluses from honest labor.
Intense struggle erupted in his eyes.
Deep in his consciousness, that jade scroll remained dim and calm.
…
Li Zhiwei’s eyes were full of terror as she watched the demon approach with his knife.
The blade was dull and rusty. She wanted to cry for help, but when she saw that boy—no more than a year older than herself—she also saw the same fear in his seemingly carefree, swaggering eyes as was in her own.
So she didn’t cry out, hoping the boy could escape alive.
But when the demon approached, her body still trembled. The demon raised his knife, chuckling: “How strange, there’s this fragrance from nowhere that’s brought out all the gluttons in my belly. Can’t hold back anymore.”
“This little face is so tender. Let me pinch off a piece to taste first!”
He reached out with thick, yellowed fingernails.
Toward her face.
Li Zhiwei’s eyes widened.
The lantern here swayed. When the demon bent down, the boy behind him was revealed—short black hair, face smeared with black mud, but those eyes reflecting candlelight like fire burning on wild grass.
Both hands gripping a knife.
Facial muscles twitching. In that instant, the meat-obsessed demon actually seemed rather simple, while this knife-wielding human looked more ferocious than any evil spirit.
Die!
Zhou Yan gripped the knife and stabbed without hesitation, ruthlessly piercing the neck. The demon screamed in agony.
Li Zhiwei was stunned, then deliberately screamed as well—like a girl being murdered, her high-pitched wail drowning out the demon’s howls. It sounded like the demon was roaring as he brutally attacked the girl.
Zhou Yan sighed in relief. The knife was halfway in, caught by the tendons, bones, and blood vessels of the neck. His heart filled with savage determination. Taking advantage of the lesser demon’s pain and panic, he stepped on the wall, borrowed the leverage, and pushed hard again.
The blade was very dull—he had to saw several times before it finally pierced straight through.
The cook suffered greatly before finally collapsing and dying.
Zhou Yan gasped heavily.
He’d killed his second demon, but there was no time to rest.
Outside, demons were already shouting impatiently:
“Is it dead yet? Hurry up and bring out the meat!”
Now—the cook was dead.
The human was saved.
But blocking the exit was a room full of demons clamoring for meat.
Retreat was impossible; saving someone brought no regret.
But he wanted to live!
What should he do?
Zhou Yan’s mouth twitched. His gaze fell on the dead demon nearby. Li Zhiwei watched this boy in tattered clothes drag the demon over and throw it into the huge stone vat used for pounding meat.
Then he reached out and grabbed the massive stone hammer with its leverage system.
Li Zhiwei’s eyes widened: He was going to…
Zhou Yan pulled the rope connected to the stone hammer—the hammer was too heavy—then released it, letting it crash down hard.
“You want to eat meat?!”
The sound of flesh being pulverized—crack!—made the demons outside think the demon had started preparing meat. They all cheered and drank. Zhou Yan’s eyes were sharp and determined as he hammered again and again, turning the demon into meat paste.
Sharpness, fierceness, decisiveness, and necessary kindness.
All mixed into an indescribable feeling.
In his consciousness, that jade scroll slowly brightened. Finally, with one mighty hammer blow—
The meat paste took shape. The force was so great it created a whooshing sound through the air.
Crash!
The jade scroll suddenly unfurled.
The fragrance emanating from Zhou Yan that attracted demons instantly disappeared.
Zhou Yan exhaled and released his grip, looking at the large pool of meat paste.
Demons eat humans, humans also kill demons.
“You like eating meat, don’t you?”
…
Outside, the demons were wild with excitement when suddenly—crash!—the wooden door opened.
A ‘demon’ wearing tattered clothes, a rusty knife at his waist, and hemp shoes emerged, carrying a large pot of fresh meat paste.
“Brothers!”
The youth’s mouth curved up in a brilliant smile:
“Time to eat!”
