Chapter Nineteen: Yagami Disco

The nightclub had been cleaned up thoroughly, and its style had changed completely. The messy stage inside had been transformed into a Peking Opera stage. Whatever performance was being enacted on stage, it made not a sound. In the audience, a single person sat watching the stage intently, seemingly oblivious to their entrance. Wang Zixuan looked around, trying to take in the layout as much as possible. Even after the scene on stage ended, that person remained with their back to them.

But then the figure spoke: “How did you like the performance on stage? Haven’t you been looking for us all this time? Still, I’m surprised you actually managed to find us.”

Wang Zixuan remained silent, continuing to observe carefully, but the voice sounded strangely familiar.

She frowned. “Who are you? Hiding your head and showing only your tail, is that all you can do?”

The mysterious figure replied, “You want to know who I am? Sooner or later, you’ll find out; don’t be impatient. The real show hasn’t even started yet! Besides, does it really matter who I am? It’s not as if you’ll be able to leave anyway.”

With that, the person snapped their fingers, and, from various corners, a host of black-clad figures leapt out—no fewer than fifty. Each held a long blade, the edge of which glimmered with a faint blue light.

Now Wang Zixuan understood the source of her unease. These people were wielding the standard weapons of the underworld’s ghost enforcers.

She muttered, “Damn, they’re from the underworld.”

No sooner had she spoken than the black-clad figures charged. Some leapt high, some rushed straight in, others burrowed into the ground.

The moment they surrounded Wang Zixuan, a blinding white light flared at the center, sending those who hadn’t yet closed in flying back. When the light faded, Wang Zixuan stood there, a blade clenched between her teeth and one gripped in each hand. All three Tang swords shimmered with a faint, bloody glow. The mysterious figure only clapped softly, saying nothing.

After the applause, another dozen or so black-clad figures appeared. Though there were fewer this time, it was clear that they were far more formidable than the previous rabble. Wang Zixuan shielded Tangtang behind her, watching these newcomers warily.

Unlike the previous group, these dozen or so men did not swarm in all at once, but advanced slowly, moving in strange, coordinated steps, gradually forming a formation. Before long, Wang Zixuan and Tangtang began to feel waves of dizziness and weakness in their limbs, as if they might collapse at a touch. At the moment Wang Zixuan let her guard slip, the attackers sprang into action, rushing at the two of them with lightning speed. But it seemed they rejoiced a bit too soon.

Before they could reach Wang Zixuan, explosions erupted from the floor, sending shards flying everywhere. In an instant, it was over. With the formation broken, Wang Zixuan and Tangtang quickly recovered.

Tangtang immediately switched to mocking mode, jeering, “Oh, really? Is that all you’ve got? And you think you can trap us here with tricks like that? You must be dreaming!”

The mysterious figure replied, “What’s the rush? That was just an appetizer. Still, I must say, I’m a little disappointed in your skills. Such a pity.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, thick vines sprang up beneath Wang Zixuan and Tangtang, binding them tightly like rice dumplings. The two struggled, but the more they fought, the tighter the vines became—whatever these were, they only constricted further with each movement.

The mysterious figure said, “Don’t bother struggling. These are ghost vines. The more you fight, the tighter they’ll hold you, and they’ll slowly drain your strength and life away.”

Wang Zixuan replied, “Since you’ve caught us, I have nothing left to say. But before I die, at least let me die understanding why.”