Chapter 6: He Felt Like He Could Hear His Own Wife Sneering
As a close friend, the person on the other end naturally knew that Feng Xun had spent a massive amount of money to buy a high-value Safe House. Therefore, hearing Feng Xun put it this way, he naturally assumed that the Evil Seed had been short-sighted, collided with Feng Xun’s Safe House, and was subsequently slaughtered by him.
Well, that was perfectly reasonable. After all, this kid had always been possessive; even if it was just a common object, once he brought it into his territory, no one else could ever snatch it away, let alone intentionally damage it.
“You’re actually being serious this time?” the other side clicked their tongue a few times. “Really retiring? You won’t be coming to the Tasker Hall to run dungeons anymore?”
“Mm.”
“Which plane are you on right now?”
Feng Xun didn’t speak. He finished dealing with the vegetables and walked to the door to fetch the chicken, only to discover that the large rooster had already kicked its legs once and collapsed on the floor, motionless.
It had been scared to death.
Fortunately, its body was still warm. He would slaughter and process it immediately; it wouldn’t affect the meat’s texture. Feng Xun switched to the cutting board used for meat, laid out the dead chicken, and with a cold glint in his right hand, a sharper, gleaming blade appeared in his palm. He swung the knife toward the chicken’s neck.
“It’s Plane A90442, right?”
Squelch—
The carotid artery on the chicken’s neck was cut crookedly, and a surge of bright red blood sprayed out violently, splattering all over the kitchen.
“…”
Feng Xun didn’t deal with the blood-drenched crime scene in his kitchen right away; instead, he frowned and looked at the blue light screen. This wasn’t a video call, just a simple voice call, but for close friends who were sufficiently familiar, even without seeing the other person’s expression, one could guess most of it just by listening to their voice.
“Oh, looks like I guessed right.” The other side gave a short, sharp laugh. Compared to the initial schadenfreude, this laughter sounded slightly helpless. “How much time has passed? Over a hundred years already, right? Still not planning to give up, Feng Xun?”
Feng Xun remained silent, only watching the crimson blood slowly flow across the cutting board, dripping steadily onto the floor.
“Retirement is just a cover. Your real objective is to go to Plane A90442 to find that person… no, to find that supernatural monster, right?”
His best friend on the other side of the blue screen sighed softly.
“You don’t know its name, you don’t know its origin, you don’t even know what? (race) it belongs to or what its true form looks like. You only saw it briefly in a dungeon once—is it really worth all this effort, insisting on running off to such a remote plane to go through all this trouble?”
Feng Xun pulled out a few sheets of paper towels and began to wipe down the blood-stained counter.
“It’s not a cover, and it’s not ‘trouble’,” he said.
“I’m tired. I want to live a normal human life. It’s as simple as that.”
His friend gave a scoff: “While living a normal human life, you’re also plotting to drag some unlucky, pitiful, and weak monster out of its nest. You’re doing both at the same time, aren’t you?”
“It’s not weak.” Feng Xun tossed the blood-stained paper towel into the trash can, his voice devoid of joy or anger. “It runs fast.”
It was a tacit admission that his decision to settle in this plane was indeed motivated by other reasons.
His friend clicked their tongue twice: “You know I never meddle in other people’s private business, but this matter… I truly can’t understand it—how exactly did that guy offend you? Making you so relentless, putting out warrants and bounties, turning the private dungeon scene completely upside down… I just don’t get it. How much hatred, how much resentment could there be for you to be so persistent, insisting on digging it out at any cost?”
Feng Xun walked to the window to open it for ventilation. The blood-scent in the room gradually dissipated in the breeze.
“An answer,” he said suddenly.
“…What?”
“I want… an answer.”
The man looked out at the sky. After the previous night’s rainstorm, today was a beautiful day with a bright sun, the azure sky looking like a pristine sapphire—that kind of beautiful sky wasn’t something every plane possessed.
“All I want is an answer.”
His voice was very light, as if he were speaking to his friend, or perhaps talking to himself.
“An answer… that only it can tell me.”
—
The bell for the end of the shift rang out.
Unlike the scene on other days where the entire factory would erupt with the shift change, today, not one of the monsters working at the assembly line dared to leave. All of them looked up eagerly, staring at the Hundred-Eyed Spider Matriarch perched on the ceiling.
The Hundred-Eyed Spider Matriarch was a massive spider. When the hundreds of eyes on her abdomen blinked in unison, it was quite sanity-draining. However, in the factory, these eyes only served a monitoring purpose, much like the surveillance cameras installed in human companies.
At this moment, the Spider Matriarch also looked nervous, using her eight thin legs to flick the spider silk beneath her—the thickest thread led directly to the boss’s office on the top floor, serving as the boss’s exclusive direct line.
After a brief internal exchange, the Spider Matriarch relievedly closed the hundreds of eyes on her abdomen. Her two fuzzy front chelicerae waved at the monster coworkers below—
—This meant they were free to go home.
“Wow—”
“Let’s go, let’s go!”
“Yay! Yay! Let’s go have a drink at the pub!”
The factory floor erupted in cheers. If you weren’t eager to leave work, there was something wrong with your head. The monsters flooded toward the gate like a tide, terrified the boss might change his mind and drag them back for overtime.
Jian Tang slowly retracted his vine-tentacles, turning back into his perfect human form. Nearby, several of his friends were happily chattering away as they packed their things.
“My god, my god, I thought I wouldn’t make it out of the factory alive today.”
“Me too. Heavens, the boss was terrifying when he flew into a rage. I was worried the ceiling would collapse.”
“A complete disaster out of nowhere. That Bloody Butcher really is something—he had to pull a stunt like that right before retiring, almost getting us all killed as collateral.”
They were talking about what happened around 10:00 AM this morning—an unexpected accident that caught everyone off guard.
At exactly 10:00, the Tasker credit ranking leaderboard refreshed. The Bloody Butcher, who had just announced yesterday that he would no longer participate in dungeon competitions, had his score jump by 6,000 points on the board in one go.
The stunned supernatural monsters: “???”
What happened to retiring? What happened to not running dungeons anymore? What happened to settling down and living peacefully?
This credit growth was even more exaggerated than before. Damn it, how is someone so sweaty-hard-working? Is that guy even human?!
For a time, everyone was anxious, and rumors flew everywhere. Discussion threads on the Monster Forum popped up one after another, crashing the forum server within a few minutes.
Half an hour later, the factory received a batch of order cancellation notices—the monsters who had been restless and eager to reopen private dungeons were all panicked, thinking the Butcher was “fishing” with law enforcement, intentionally acting, intentionally lying, and intentionally launching a sneak attack!
The goal was to wipe out their dungeon assets in one fell swoop!
A single normal leaderboard update had sent more than half the monster community into a tailspin. And those hit hardest were, naturally, the owners of the monster factories—
They had just been feeling smug about the soaring orders, but before the orders were even warm in their hands, they had all become “cooked ducks”—and flew away!
The owner of Jian Tang’s factory was a giant octopus. He flew into a rage on the spot, turning back into his original form and going crazy in his office. While howling and roaring, he smashed the floor with his massive, sucker-covered tentacles, nearly knocking the Hundred-Eyed Spider Matriarch hanging from the ceiling below onto the floor.
Not just their factory, but several other monster factories nearby were also in chaos, making such a ruckus that the entire monster town was permeated with the atmosphere of mental breakdown. It could have been repurposed into a horror-themed mental hospital dungeon on the spot.
Amidst the desperate atmosphere of wailing and gnashing of teeth, as if the apocalypse had arrived, Jian Tang was the only one with a head full of question marks: “???”
Why was everyone’s first reaction that the Butcher released fake retirement news to fish for credits? Why couldn’t it be that the Butcher just did a final explosive output before retiring?
Although making money was great, the Butcher had been active in the supernatural world for hundreds of years. He was a model worker and a workaholic. For someone like the Butcher who had long since stopped caring about money, wouldn’t a vacation be even better?
But since the atmosphere had been built up to this point, Jian Tang was too embarrassed to sing a different tune from everyone else. He could only put on a look of anxiety—though, in reality, he couldn’t grasp what the Butcher’s schemes as an evil super-demon had to do with common, three-thousand-credit-a-month laboring monsters. Were they all being too sentimental…? =?=
Still, it was quite nice to be able to slack off and fish in troubled waters, hehehe.
The anxious atmosphere eased in the afternoon because more gossip spread: The Butcher’s credits weren’t earned from dungeons, but through other channels. The retirement news should be true.
While everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief, Jian Tang secretly straightened his little back: Look! Look! I guessed right, didn’t I?
He had said it: there was no such thing in this world as a worker who didn’t want a vacation. Even an inhumane Bloody Butcher was no exception—how great is retirement!
However, after this commotion, most supernatural monsters were even more cautious about opening private dungeons and basically maintained a wait-and-see attitude. The orders the factory lost never came back.
Fortunately, the boss didn’t take his anger out on everyone by making them work overtime. The monsters invited their friends, planning to go to town and properly relax. Jian Tang’s friends also invited him: “Little Tang, it’s rare that it’s early today. Do you want to go to the bar with us and have some fun?”
None of the little monsters liked drinking, but they loved dancing on the bar’s dance floor. It was very stress-relieving to dance wildly like demons.
If it were in the past, Jian Tang would have gladly agreed, but now—
“Uh, I won’t go.” He paused. “And I probably won’t be going very often in the future.”
“Why?” His friends didn’t understand.
Jian Tang confessed honestly: “Because I have to go home after work, and I can’t stay out too long.”
“Go home?”
The little monsters froze for a moment, and all of them gathered around, their eyes sparkling.
“Wow! Little Tang, did you buy a new house?”
“Congrats, congrats! Where is your new home? Can we go take a look?”
“Does this mean you don’t have to live in the factory dorms anymore? That’s great!”
There was a residential area in the monster town, but most monster employees wouldn’t choose to settle down and buy a house there—the staff turnover in the factories was too high. You never knew when you might jump to a factory on another plane. Buying a house you couldn’t take with you really wasn’t cost-effective.
But Jian Tang was different. Everyone knew he was an old employee of the factory, with at least a few hundred years of seniority, and he was a wandering refugee. It wasn’t easy to drift and work alone, so buying a house to settle down in was considered a pretty decent destination.
Yesterday, when facing the gatekeeper eyeball, Jian Tang could proudly say, “I’m going home!” But today, faced with his friends’ enthusiastic inquiries, he felt an unprovoked sense of guilt.
“Uh…” Jian Tang extended a finger and weakly pointed upward. “My house… is up there.”
The three little monsters were stunned.
After a long time, Little Mud shouted their shared sentiment on behalf of the group—
“In, in human territory??”
“Why!” Little Mushroom asked urgently. “It’s very dangerous up there, and there are people from the Investigation Bureau patrolling all the time. Why on earth would you want to settle down in human territory?”
…Because my wife is human. =?=
“Little Tang, your shapeshifting ability is strong, I’ll give you that, but isn’t settling in human territory too risky?” Little Zombie said, frowning.
“Don’t worry, it’s a very remote little house, and there are no humans around,” Jian Tang said, lying through his teeth. “It’s very safe.”
Yep, it’s safe outside the house. Inside the house… well, that’s hard to say.
The three friends each had their own worries, but considering that Jian Tang finally had a little nest, throwing cold water on him would be too discouraging. In the end, the three little monsters still offered their sincere blessings, wishing Jian Tang a happy life in his new home and that everything would go smoothly.
“Thanks, thank you all.”
Jian Tang originally wanted to say, “Come over to my place to play when you have time,” but thinking about his friends’ lackluster shapeshifting abilities, he let it go.
They parted ways at the factory gate. The three little monsters chatted and laughed as they headed toward the bar, while Jian Tang took the elevator to the surface.
Honestly, his mood was a bit complicated right now.
If it were his genuine wife waiting for him at home, he would have been flying home long ago. But the cruel reality was: there was no gentle, cute wife at home, only a fierce, scary wife.
Sigh, I’m a bit afraid to go home. .jpg
This complicated mood lasted until he returned to the Happiness Court complex. When he stood at the foot of Building 44, it truly transformed into a heavy weight pressing on his chest.
QAQ Afraid to go home.
Jian Tang wandered downstairs for a long time. Sometimes he looked up at the sunset glow in the sky, dazed; sometimes he squatted on the side of the road, staring at the ants moving house. No matter how he dilly-dallied, he just couldn’t muster the courage to go home.
Sigh.
He had heard that some human men, after marrying, would rather stay in the dark cars in the underground garage than go home. Jian Tang hadn’t understood it at the time, but now he felt a subtle sense of empathy…
But the problem was, he had just welcomed his new wife yesterday!
How did he enter the new phase of a red-light crisis in his domestic life so quickly…
Jian Tang poked bugs in the bushes with a small wooden stick with a bitter face. Perhaps because he had stayed downstairs for too long, the kids playing in the complex garden had become familiar with him. A child who had been staring at him for a while suddenly walked over.
“Big brother, do you live on the fourth floor?” the child pointed to Building 44.
Eh?
Jian Tang nodded blankly: “That’s right… how did you know?”
“Because your family member has been standing in front of the window staring at you.”
“?”
Jian Tang subconsciously looked up, just in time to meet the gaze from the fourth-floor window.
The man standing at the window was expressionless, and he had no idea how long he had been staring down at him like that.
Their gazes locked. Although the other party didn’t say anything, Jian Tang felt as if he could hear his own wife’s inner sneer—
Dead man, not coming home after work, still running wild outside?
I think you’re itching for a beating.
Jian Tang: “……………”
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