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***
Ruan Qing wasn’t uninterested in the staff’s report about the cruise ship—on the contrary, he was deeply intrigued. After all, cultists of an Evil God would never conceal anything when reporting to their deity. This was the perfect opportunity to learn more about the ship.
But his body could no longer hold on.
Just sitting upright drained all his strength. Beneath his robes, his fingers trembled uncontrollably, and a metallic tang rose in his throat.
If he didn’t leave now, he wouldn’t be able to maintain his facade.
Summoning the last of his energy, Ruan Qing slowly walked out of the hall.
By the time he reached a deserted corner, he could no longer steady himself. He staggered, then coughed up a mouthful of blood.
Fortunately, the earlier incident had deterred the staff from following him—otherwise, he would’ve been discovered immediately.
His face was already deathly pale, the makeup unable to mask it. Leaning against the wall, he stumbled into the shadows of the corner.
Those few meters sapped the last of his strength. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, damp strands of hair clinging to his skin. He looked utterly fragile. Finally, his legs gave way, and he collapsed weakly to his knees.
He didn’t even have the strength to wipe the blood from his lips. One hand braced against the wall, the other pressed to his aching chest as he struggled to steady his ragged breathing.
His condition was dire—no different from when his heart disease had flared up before.
Controlling the Demon’s Eye was far harder than Ruan Qing had anticipated. The black mist it emitted was terrifyingly corrosive, seeping unconsciously into the human body.
When not in use, it was manageable. But activating it meant constantly expending energy to resist the black mist’s erosion.
Ruan Qing didn’t know what would happen if the black mist fully invaded him, but based on past instances in other dungeons, he could guess.
If the black mist took hold, he might become a true NPC of this copy—losing all chance of clearing it.
His own power could barely hold the black mist at bay, but it was too weak. Overusing it now would only hasten his demise.
He had to limit the Demon’s Eye’s use.
Yet without it, he couldn’t mimic the Evil God’s aura and oppressive presence. Surviving four days undetected in this state was nearly impossible.
And if he were discovered… what awaited him would be worse than death.
Just as Ruan Qing lowered his gaze, analyzing his predicament, a shadow crept closer. A tall figure loomed over his slender frame, its silhouette darkening the wall before him.
The shadow appeared abruptly, carrying an oppressive presence that was impossible to ignore.
Ruan Qing stiffened at the sight of the figure, his hair standing on end as all color drained from his delicate face.
His body trembled slightly as he slowly turned his head.
What met his eyes was a pair of expensive black leather shoes and the hem of black trousers—both unmistakably familiar.
Some of the tension in Ruan Qing’s body eased. He raised his head to look at the owner of those shoes.
Qi Lintian.
The figure referred to as "Qi Lintian" gazed down indifferently at the young man kneeling on the floor, looking back at "Him".
The boy’s disguise as the Evil God had been flawless—his haughty demeanor had perfectly captured the deity’s arrogance.
But now, there was no trace of that arrogance left. His pale, exquisite face was tinged with blood at the corners of his lips, like delicate snow-blossoms speckled with crimson, breathtakingly beautiful.
Dazzling. Enthralling.
So much so that it made one want to stain him with even more color.
"Qi Lintian’s" eyes darkened as "His" gaze drifted lower, settling on the boy’s intricate black robes.
The robes closely resembled those of the true deity—so similar that, at a glance, it almost seemed as though they had been draped over the boy himself.
This boy… had seen "Him".
Ruan Qing, oblivious to the strangeness in Qi Lintian’s demeanor, let out a quiet sigh of relief upon recognizing him.
"Qi Lintian" crouched down in front of Ruan Qing and reached out, gently wiping the blood from the corner of his lips.
It hadn’t dried yet, coming away easily—but smearing it with his fingertips only spread the stain further, smudging it across the boy’s pale skin.
"Qi Lintian" stared at the blood on his fingers, a dark urge rising in his chest—to press them to his lips, to taste it.
The blood of an ordinary person reeked of iron, but this boy’s carried a faint, elusive sweetness, enough to unravel the darkest impulses of the human heart.
Knowing that Qi Lintian was a fragment of the System, Ruan Qing didn’t resist, allowing him to wipe the blood away obediently.
Yet, as he looked at the man before him, an uneasy feeling crept into his chest.
Something was off.
Qi Lintian had no systematic memories, and the System himself had lost contact due to the Demon’s Eye. After enduring something as horrifying as a sacrificial ritual, it was only natural for him to seem… different.
Besides, no one knew Qi Lintian’s true identity—who would bother impersonating him just to deceive Ruan Qing?
Right now, he was utterly defenseless. Even a child could humiliate him without resistance. There was no need for such an elaborate ruse.
Suppressing the faint unease in his heart, Ruan Qing bit his pale lips and wordlessly reached out toward Qi Lintian—a silent demand to be held.
He had no intention of maintaining his façade as the Evil God in front of Qi Lintian. In his current state, he couldn’t even if he tried. More importantly, he needed an ally.
And Qi Lintian, as a fragment of the System, was the perfect choice.
"Qi Lintian" seemed caught off guard by the outstretched hand. "He" stared at the boy before him, momentarily stunned.
Though the youth’s face was expressionless, the faint tremble of his lashes betrayed his exhaustion and fragility—so brittle it seemed he might shatter into tears at any moment.
Like a lofty deity brought low by helpless sorrow.
No one could refuse the favor of a god. And no one could resist a god’s vulnerability, his quiet plea—enough to drive men to madness.
Alluring, yet utterly unaware of it.
"Qi Lintian" was no feeble human, of course. "He" was an Evil God, boundless in power, untouched by mortal sorrows.
Yet here this boy was, reaching for him, wordlessly begging—no, commanding—him to hold him.
As if ordering a dog to heel.
"Qi Lintian" glanced down at the slender, pale hand before him—so delicate he could crush it effortlessly—and something dark flickered in his eyes, vanishing as quickly as it came. Then, he gathered the boy into his arms.
With the youth pressed against him, that faint, intoxicating orchid fragrance grew stronger, seeping deep into his soul.
And with it came the memory of what had happened behind the curtains—
The boy’s fair skin flushed with heat, fingers clutching "His" robes as he gasped for breath, trembling uncontrollably before finally collapsing against him, limp and spent.
He had smelled even sweeter then. Cloying.
A sudden displeasure twisted in "Qi Lintian’s" chest, his gaze turning stormy.
He despised the memory.
And he envied the man who had lived it.
Even if that person was himself.
Ruan Qing watched Qi Lintian, who was suddenly radiating a terrifying aura, his slender fingers tightening imperceptibly as an uncontrollable flicker of unease rose in his chest.
Was this man… really Qi Lintian?
Just as Ruan Qing bit his lip helplessly, the dreadful presence vanished—as if it had never existed.
It felt like an illusion.
But Ruan Qing knew it wasn’t. A horrifying detail resurfaced in his mind:
Back when he’d pretended to be the Evil God, the black mist had inexplicably erupted once, annihilating everything around him. Even nearby staff had been obliterated instantly.
So how had Qi Lintian, who’d been closest to him, survived?
This avatar of the System was just an ordinary man. Even if he had some hidden identity, there was no way he could’ve escaped that destructive mist.
In past instances of this dungeon, the System only went silent after a ‘god’ was successfully summoned.
Had the System really lost contact because of the Demon’s Eye?
The System had possessed the Demon’s Eye for ages without incident. Why had it malfunctioned the moment he used it?
—How can you use the Demon’s Eye?
—Do you even know…
Know what?
That the Demon’s Eye could also summon the Evil God?
That earlier black mist hadn’t been a backlash from the artifact—someone had tampered with it.
And that someone…
Ruan Qing’s fingers clenched tighter, his knuckles whitening from the force.
He’d made a terrible, terrible mistake.
***
Since the finest cabin on the ship belonged to Qi Lintian, the staff had naturally prepared it for the Evil God.
Avoiding the crew, "Qi Lintian" carried Ruan Qing to the sixteenth deck—the floor reserved for himself.
"Qi Lintian" seemed aware of Ruan Qing’s weakened state. After entering the room, he placed Ruan Qing directly onto the bed.
Lying down in long robes was uncomfortable. Once "Qi Lintian" had set Ruan Qing down, his fingers moved to the sash at Ruan Qing’s waist.
Noticing this, Ruan Qing’s lashes trembled slightly. He pressed his lips together and naturally caught Qi Lintian’s hand, then looked up at him weakly. “I’d like some water.”
"Qi Lintian" paused, withdrawing his hand. He glanced around the room.
The earlier chase between Ruan Qing and the monster had left the room in ruins. Even though the staff had tried to restore it, some things were missing—including water.
There was none in the room.
"Qi Lintian" tugged the blanket over Ruan Qing. “Wait a moment. I… I’ll fetch you some water.”
Ruan Qing nodded obediently.
"Qi Lintian" turned and walked out, his figure eventually disappearing beyond the door.
Ruan Qing lowered his gaze, silently counting the seconds in his mind. The moment the footsteps faded completely, he threw off the blanket and staggered toward the door, bracing himself against the wall.
If his suspicions were correct, staying with Qi Lintian would be suicide—possibly even worse than falling into Lin Zhiyan’s hands.
He had to escape before Qi Lintian returned.
If the Evil God had already awakened, then whether the staff summoned it or not no longer mattered. There was no need for him to keep pretending.
Ruan Qing hurried out of the room, heading in the opposite direction Qi Lintian had taken.
But he had only taken a few steps when a cold, detached voice sounded behind him.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
