Chapter 95: Pain

“I really can’t tell… I really can’t tell… I really can’t tell.”

Li Huowang knelt in the kindergarten yard, clutching the little girl tightly, his eyes filled with extreme confusion as he murmured to himself.

Was this reality or an illusion? Was it true or false? For a moment, Li Huowang couldn't distinguish.

Li Huowang had once argued when Master Jingxin said everyone's heart is filled with bewilderment. But when he saw Sun Xiaoqin kneeling to him through the fence, he finally understood the true meaning of Master Jingxin's words.

A 'Xinsu' is a Xinsu. No matter which side they choose as reality, they are always enveloped in confusion. This is the destiny of a Xinsu; no one can escape it.

Just then, a small hand, holding a tiny handkerchief, reached up from Li Huowang's embrace. It gently wiped away the tears on his face.

Li Huowang tremblingly looked down and saw the little girl's adorable face. She was diligently wiping away his tears. “Uncle, don't cry.”

Gazing at her sweet face, Li Huowang suddenly realized: this little girl could be alive. The thought that he had been moments away from harming such a kind child instantly filled him with immense dread.

“What if she’s impersonating the Eighteenth Day of the Twelfth Lunar Month? Kill her!” As this thought surfaced, Li Huowang was immediately filled with extreme self-loathing.

“Shut up! Shut up!! Have you considered that this child might be alive?! Is your life really more important than hers? She’s at least a normal person! What about you, Li Huowang?! You’re just a lunatic!! A useless lunatic! What right do you have to trade her life for yours?!”

Li Huowang’s grip on the glass in his hand made a grinding sound. Even as the edges cut into his flesh, leaving it bloody and mangled, he refused to let go. His furious roar startled everyone around him, causing them to take several steps back.

At that moment, Li Huowang felt as if two small figures were fighting in his mind. The torment of illusion versus reality caused him immense inner pain, suffocating him.

Li Huowang even contemplated death. If he died, he would no longer suffer this torment. There was no need for a madman like him to live. His death would benefit everyone: his mother would be free of her burden, and Dan Yangzi wouldn't be able to resurrect using his body.

“Put away your guns, young man. Can I have a word with you?” Another voice echoed from outside the kindergarten. The speaker was a pot-bellied plainclothes middle-aged man holding a megaphone. Li Huowang didn’t know his identity, but when the police officers lowered their pistols, he guessed the man’s status was high.

As Li Huowang’s gaze shifted, the man, still holding the megaphone in his left hand, slowly raised his right. “Now, young man, as the saying goes—” Mid-sentence, the middle-aged man’s raised right index finger inexplicably bent slightly.

*Whoosh!* A high-velocity sniper bullet shot from a slightly ajar window in the distance, flying straight towards Li Huowang’s brainstem.

In that instant, an extremely peculiar sensation enveloped Li Huowang’s entire body. He tensed suddenly, instinctively tilting his head. *Thud!* Li Huowang’s body violently trembled. His head snapped back powerfully before he fell heavily to the ground.

“Son!!” Sun Xiaoqin’s desolate cry carried far into the distance.

His occipital bone hitting the ground caused his head to throb, and golden stars swam before his eyes. “Am I dying? If I’m already dead, why can I still think??”

And in that very moment, all the bright surroundings quickly faded. The buildings, the people, everything transformed into shadowy, strangely shaped bamboo.

At this moment, Li Huowang felt a burning pain on his face; it seemed he had been grazed. However, he had no time to notice. He felt that familiar presence—the Eighteenth Day of the Twelfth Lunar Month was still there, watching him from within the bamboo forest.

He looked around and saw only bamboo. He was surrounded by it, his lower body sunk in a puddle of muddy, decaying bamboo leaves.

“Li Huowang! Li Huowang!!” Various shouts periodically echoed through the bamboo forest—Ling Miao’s, Dan Yangzi’s, and even Li Zhi’s.

Li Huowang had always believed that his fellow disciples were following his orders here, attacking the Eighteenth Day of the Twelfth Lunar Month. Now, however, it seemed that was not the case at all. The situation was quite the opposite; for some unknown reason, he had been left alone.

Then, a familiar voice drifted from the forest. “Old bones, as the saying goes, ‘Seventy-three, eighty-four, the King of Hell won’t call you to his door.’ You’re eighty-four this year, why haven’t you left yet?”

This voice, like an old neighbor’s, continuously reverberated through the bamboo forest, growing stronger and stronger, gradually beginning to occupy Li Huowang’s mind, attempting to transform his perception back into that of the dying old man.

Moreover, rustling sounds began to emerge from within the bamboo forest. Li Huowang saw the little girl from that night, and also the Kitchen God she had mentioned. The Eighteenth Day of the Twelfth Lunar Month was not fighting alone; it even had helpers.

At this moment, Li Huowang had not yet recovered from everything that had just transpired. His heart ached as if pierced, yet facing the immediate crisis, a smile appeared on his face.

“Do you know? It looks like you’ve won, but your biggest mistake was not killing me just now. Do you know how much my heart hurts right now?” Li Huowang crooked his neck, his expression contorted, and clenched one hand over his chest, shouting through gritted teeth.

“It hurts so much I even want to die!!”

With that, Li Huowang pulled out the red bamboo slips from behind him. The moment they unrolled, he felt the extreme suffering in his heart come alive. This emotion resonated with the bamboo slips, and the inner pain that had gradually lessened with his return began to intensify.

Immediately, the red bamboo slips underwent a strange transformation. They began to sprout roots, which burrowed into the bamboo leaves below, dyeing everything blood-red.

Gradually, Li Huowang’s emotions began to crumble. The pain in his heart had returned to its recent peak. Yet, it wasn’t enough. Roots had sprouted, and now they had to grow. The emotional pain was sufficient; now only physical pain remained.

Li Huowang sobbed uncontrollably, his hands reaching for the instruments of torture at his lower garment. He tremblingly raised a small dagger and plunged it savagely into his abdomen, then dragged it to the left, exposing bloody intestines to the air.

The Eighteenth Day of the Twelfth Lunar Month and its companions clearly tried to stop him, but it was too late.

With a half-sobbing, half-smiling expression, Li Huowang reversed his grip on the two long, barbed awls and savagely plunged them into his abdomen.