Chapter 3

The screwdriver and wrench were on the floor.

To pick them up or not—that was the question.

If he bent down to retrieve them, what if the monster seized the chance to attack?

If he remained standing and left them, he’d be unarmed and utterly defenseless.

After a prolonged standoff with the creature—still hesitating whether to reveal its red beady eyes—Chen Feng finally moved.

His gaze never wavered from the monster as he willed his stiff body to crouch slowly, inch by inch.

Just as his fingertips were about to touch the wrench—

The creature clinging to the wall surged forward like a black hurricane, hurtling toward the window.

With a deafening crash, all three kitchen windows shattered simultaneously. Glass shards sprayed everywhere, littering the floor. Every item in the kitchen bore the brunt of the tempest—bottles and jars toppled, pots and pans scattered—nothing was spared.

Only Chen Feng remained untouched, without a single scratch.

Just a bit cold.

With the windows gone, the night wind howled in, making his loose shorts flap violently.

Chen Feng looked up at the spot where the monster had been. The wall still bore traces of inky mucus, proof of its presence.

He stared at the viscous stain so long that he failed to notice the changes underfoot.

Tiny black insects, smaller than ants, emerged from every crevice. They spawned from corners, crawled from beneath cabinets, and seeped from every shadowed nook.

One split into two, two into four, four into eight—then hundreds, thousands, millions.

The swarming mass moved like a shifting black curtain. They devoured the glass fragments, consumed oil stains from overturned bottles, and left every surface they crossed spotless.

Thousands lifted fallen chopsticks, tens of thousands hoisted dropped spoons, and millions raised a stainless steel bowl.

They returned everything to its rightful place, their payment being the dust and grime they ingested.

By the time Chen Feng noticed them, an innumerable host had already lifted a brand-new window—source unknown—fluttering transparent wings to carry it aloft and reinstall it in the frame.

Rubbing his eyes, he looked down to see the scurrying small black insects busily restoring order.

Yet strangely, they all avoided his feet.

The flowing black curtain spontaneously kept a ten-centimeter radius clear around him.

Soon, the kitchen was restored to perfection.

Then the insects began consuming their own.

Two merged into one, four into one, eight into one—hundreds, thousands, millions rapidly dwindled until only a single tiny black insect remained, slipping into some unseen crevice.

Chen Feng gazed at the now spotless wall and stood frozen in place.

His legs soon grew numb.

“…A dream,” he murmured, turning back toward the bedroom.

Wait—he’d forgotten to turn off the light.

Chen Feng turned around.

At that exact moment, the lights switched off.

Darkness swallowed the world.

Chen Feng watched as a line of tiny black bugs gradually shortened while crawling down the light switch.  

The little black bugs turned off the light for him.  

Chen Feng blinked.  

His brain must have malfunctioned for a moment—he actually thought they were kind of considerate.  

The moment Chen Feng lay down on the bed, drowsiness suddenly washed over him. In the haze of fading consciousness, he vaguely felt something cold brush against his fingertip.  

When Chen Feng woke up the next morning, his head felt heavy and muddled. He could barely remember what day it was.  

He shook his head vigorously to clear his thoughts and finally recalled the dreamlike, unbelievable events of the previous day.  

He had been forced to jump off a building, only to hang from a clothesline and hallucinate being saved by an angel. His father was a billionaire who had given him a billion yuan.  

And… his son might actually be Wang Baqiang’s.  

Chen Feng pressed his fingers against his temples.  

There was more… there was more…  

He had dreamed something—what was it again? Something about… a broken faucet? A dirty ceiling? Shattered glass? Scattered sesame seeds?  

…What kind of nonsense was that?  

Utterly bizarre.  

Chen Feng walked to the kitchen, turned the faucet on, then off again.  

Broken, his ass. It worked perfectly fine.  

It was a premium model—no way it would break.  

Then, realizing something was off, he slowly raised his right hand to inspect it.  

On the tip of his right index finger was a tiny bite mark he didn’t remember getting.  

Chen Feng lifted his hand and rushed to show Chen Jiuxing. “Jiuxing, did you bite me last night?”  

“No way!” Chen Jiuxing shook his head emphatically as he struggled into his clothes. “I sleep like an angel!”  

Chen Feng pinched his chubby little cheeks, then chuckled and helped him out of his backward shirt before putting it back on properly.  

But as he laughed, the realization that Chen Jiuxing wasn’t his biological son suddenly weighed on him, filling him with melancholy.  

High upon his throne, the black-haired, red-eyed Prince set down the illusion mirror in his hand, propping his cheek lazily against his palm. His voice was slow and indifferent.  

“It seems the current level is still far from enough. I don’t feel even a hint of his suffering.”  

Zuo An, the masked guard, glanced at the illusion mirror, where Chen Feng was peeling an egg for Chen Jiuxing. His expression darkened as he nodded.  

He, too, had spent the past month observing Chen Feng through the mirror.  

During that time, Chen Feng had endured backbreaking labor, his hands calloused and sore, yet he gritted his teeth and kept working. He had come home exhausted, only to be met with his wife’s scorn and abuse. He had been mocked and humiliated for his poverty. He had discovered his wife’s infidelity and learned that his son’s true father was another man.  

Yet through it all, Chen Feng remained calm. Unshaken.  

Zuo An knew what the Prince wanted—to see him humiliated, tormented, broken, drowning in despair.  

But Chen Feng never gave them that.  

Not even when, dressed in grimy work clothes, he was falsely accused of stealing from a restaurant. Not when every customer looked at him with disgust. Not when he was dragged into an alley, beaten bloody, and thrown into a dumpster like a dead dog.  

That incident hadn’t been orchestrated by the Prince. When it happened, the Prince had been intrigued, eagerly enlarging the illusion mirror to witness Chen Feng’s misery in vivid detail.  

Which only made the outcome all the more infuriating.

Chen Feng was thrown into a trash can when the sky suddenly darkened, thunder rumbling in the distance. Without a word, Chen Feng raised his head to look at the sky.

At that moment, Zuo An thought Mr. Chen would at least shed a single tear.

But he didn’t.

Chen Feng gazed at the sky and said, “Ah, I want to take a bath.” Then he climbed out of the trash can and went home to bathe.

No one was home at the time. After his bath, Chen Feng fried a plate of peanuts, then sat on the sofa eating them while watching TV. The show wasn’t particularly funny, yet he laughed so hard he nearly choked on a peanut.

Zuo An remembered clearly how the Prince had shattered the illusion mirror with one slap upon seeing this scene, his face dark with anger as he said, “Summon Lugu, the keeper of the memory-erasing worms. I want to ask him whether he erased Chen Feng’s memories or his intelligence—how can he have no pride left?”

At the time, Master Lugu had nearly kowtowed his head bloody before the Prince reluctantly believed that he had only erased Chen Feng’s memories without touching his intellect.

As for why Chen Feng was behaving this way now…

Zuo An thought perhaps this was simply Mr. Chen’s true nature, something they hadn’t known before.

Zuo An snapped out of his reverie to see Chen Feng in the illusion mirror picking up a schoolbag to take Chen Jiuxing to school.

The Mr. Chen in the mirror wore a gentle, affectionate smile, as if the boy before him—with triple chins, beady eyes, three moles on his cheeks, looking like he was carved from the same mold as the neighbor Wang Baqiang—was truly his own child.

Not a trace of distress could be seen.

“Is the time too short? Has he not invested enough emotion, so neither his wife’s infidelity nor his son not being his own can pain him?” the Prince mused thoughtfully.

Zuo An nodded in agreement.

Suddenly struck by an idea, the Prince turned to Zuo An. “Arrange for some women to seduce Chen Feng.”

After a pause, he added, “They must be extraordinarily beautiful.”

“As you command.”

Zuo An understood the Prince’s intention—to make Chen Feng fall in love, then have the beauty abandon him.

It was the same tactic as ordering Lü Tiao to give Chen Feng a billion, only to later scheme him into poverty.

It had to be said, though the Prince was the most perfect being in heaven and earth, his imagination was somewhat lacking. When it came to methods of torment, he only ever recycled the two or three he’d learned from books.

However…

Zuo An glanced again at the illusion mirror.

Could someone like Chen Feng—cold-hearted, emotionless, desireless, unmoved even by his wife’s betrayal, utterly composed upon sudden wealth—truly possess the capacity for love?

And “extraordinarily beautiful”?

In terms of appearance, who could compare to the Prince?

Suddenly realizing how inappropriate his thoughts were, Zuo An shuddered and immediately quashed all improper notions.

“This subordinate will see to it at once.” After bowing, Zuo An prepared to withdraw when he noticed the Prince suddenly enveloped in a glow of light.

When the glow faded, the Prince had retracted his wings and changed into human clothing.

The Prince’s natural appearance was one of striking, domineering beauty—so noble and dazzling in royal robes and crown that one dared not look directly at him. But now, mimicking the human attire in the illusion mirror, he wore ordinary clothes and had deliberately altered his eyes to a deep red, appearing almost indistinguishable from a human man.

Almost. Where in this world could such a beautiful human exist?

Zuo An was utterly stunned, unable to snap out of it for a long time. It wasn’t until His Highness descended the steps that he suddenly came to his senses: “Your Highness, what are you…?”

“This time, I’ll be supervising the work firsthand,” His Highness said lightly. “If I can’t make him suffer spiritually, then I’ll settle for making his physical existence a living hell.”

After dropping his son off at kindergarten, Chen Feng had originally planned to go to the construction site.

He only had two more days until he completed a full month at the site, and he wanted to ask the boss if he could get his wages settled.

With 1 billion in his pocket, why would he still need to haul bricks?

But the wages he’d earned were still his due.

Otherwise, all that sweat he’d shed under the scorching sun, pushing carts and carrying bricks, would have been for nothing.

The problem was, when he passed by a small shop with a sign that read “Spirit Dispelling House,” he couldn’t take another step.

He really wanted to go inside.

For some reason, even though he hadn’t encountered any ghosts, demons, or supernatural incidents, he just felt compelled to enter.

Out of nowhere, he wanted to find a priest or spiritual master to chant scriptures and perform rituals at his home.

Chen Feng himself was surprised by how superstitious he’d become.

Nothing unusual had happened around him—at most, he’d had some strange dreams—yet he felt inexplicably uneasy.

Gritting his teeth, Chen Feng decided to follow his instincts and splurge a little.

In today’s society, everything had to be sold as a package deal.

Master Jingze of the Spirit Dispelling House told Chen Feng a whole spiel—how his forehead was darkened by ominous energy, how malevolent spirits surrounded him, invading his dreams and draining his vitality—before recommending a premium one-on-one personal service package.

A spiritual master would accompany him 24/7 to ward off the evil spirits.

The minimum cost? 18,000.

That would cover a month’s worth of spiritual services.

Master Jingze said, “Our monthly subscription spiritual masters are all professionals, each with impeccable appearances and supple physiques. Not only will they protect you from evil spirits, but they’ll also shield you from misfortune. What’s more, they’ll accompany you for meals, sleep, and conversation, bringing you peace of mind and… physical relaxation.”

Chen Feng: “……?”

Something about this sounded increasingly off.

“Interested?” Master Jingze blinked.

Skeptical, Chen Feng asked, “Are these… legitimate spiritual masters?”

“Of course they’re legitimate! What else would they be?” Master Jingze said with utmost seriousness.

While mentally recalling the reward hotline for reporting illegal activities he’d seen in a magazine, Chen Feng pretended to be very interested and nodded. “Can I see the spiritual masters first?”

“Of course! Our spiritual masters vary in skill and price—take your pick! Pay only after you’ve made your choice!”

When the spiritual masters filed in, Chen Feng silently put away his phone, which already had the tip-off number dialed.

Master Jingze hadn’t lied—these spiritual masters did indeed have impeccable appearances and supple physiques.

Every single one of them had shaved heads, thick earlobes, double chins, and remarkably soft figures. Even in their loose Taoist robes, one could faintly discern their plump, bouncy bellies.

Amitabha, his mind had been in the gutter.

Chen Feng silently repented.

Only… these spiritual masters were dressed in Taoist robes, wearing Buddhist prayer beads around their wrists and crosses around their necks…

“Excuse me for asking,” Chen Feng said, “but may I inquire about the spiritual masters’ religious affiliations…?”

“Our spiritual master is omnipotent! He can subdue demons from all three realms, detect ghosts from east to west, and if you need it, he can even provide a full set of acupuncture, cupping, massage, and more!” Master Jingze introduced with evident pride.

In the past, Chen Feng would have silently mocked in his heart, thinking, “If you want to scam money, at least hone your skills first.” But now, he was no longer the old Chen Feng. He was the super-rich Chen Feng, with a cool billion to splurge as he pleased.

Recalling the strange dreams and fantasies he’d had a few days prior, Chen Feng waved his hand with the air of a man who could afford anything. “Book me the most expensive one.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, a sudden gust of wind erupted, rattling the doorframe with a loud clatter. Whether it was an illusion or not, Chen Feng faintly saw a swirl of black mist burst through the door, stirring the air currents. The curtain in front of him tore free from its ribbon restraints, fluttering wildly in the air, completely obscuring his vision.

The wind gradually died down, and the crimson curtain slowly settled, draping back into place.

Only then did Chen Feng notice that the bald spiritual master who had been standing before him had somehow retreated, now lined up neatly on either side, heads bowed in silence.

Silence.

A deathly silence.

The birds outside the window, the insects in the bushes, even the wind in the air—everything seemed to have stilled. The entire space was eerily quiet, as if everyone was holding their breath.

Only from where the crimson cloth touched the ground came the sound of unhurried footsteps.

Chen Feng looked up.

And even his breath caught.

The newcomer was a spiritual master dressed in ink-black robes.

A breathtakingly beautiful young spiritual master.

Unlike the loose, plain blue robes worn by the others, this man was clad in dark attire, his sleeves and collar embroidered with silver patterns that shimmered like flowing light under the lanterns, accentuating his already striking figure. And the face atop those robes… was one no human should possess. Hair as dark as ink, skin as pale as snow, and deep, translucent eyes that, under the lantern light, seemed to flicker with a faint crimson glow.

He extended his hand toward Chen Feng, like a stunning painting suddenly coming to life.

“Mr. Chen, a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to working with you.”

As if entranced, Chen Feng numbly reached out and clasped his hand.

The moment their hands touched, the spiritual master’s icy fingers sent a jolt through Chen Feng, snapping him back to reality.

After a long silence, Chen Feng turned to Master Jingze, his tone sincere and serious. “I don’t want this one. I’d prefer the bald ones over there. This spiritual master looks all flash and no substance—too young, too inexperienced, and probably way more expensive than I imagined.”

The air froze for an instant.

The spiritual master’s expression darkened visibly.

Chen Feng tried to lighten the mood with a smile.

But it didn’t come.

Just like how he’d had a nagging feeling yesterday that Chen Zihua would wipe his snot in his hair, he now had an overwhelming premonition.

—If he accepted this spiritual master, something extremely ominous would happen.

He would encounter more bizarre, unpredictable events. His current understanding and worldview would be completely overturned. He would lose control of his own soul. He would plunge into an abyss of eternal damnation.

In short, he was about to be in deep trouble.

The ominous premonition was so intense that his heart tightened slightly, and a deep sense of aversion welled up from within, making him want to stay as far away as possible from this extraordinarily beautiful spiritual master.  

He tried, bit by bit, to pull his hand free from the spiritual master’s grasp.  

But he failed.  

“Crack.”  

A crisp sound of bone breaking echoed.  

Chen Feng, who had been calm just moments ago, suddenly let out a bloodcurdling scream.  

“Ahhh—my hand—!”  

The spiritual master released his grip, revealing that Chen Feng’s entire right hand had been folded in half, as if the bones had been snapped apart by sheer force.  

A flicker of regret flashed across the spiritual master’s face.  

Master Jingze stared in shock, his eyes wide, and stammered, “I… I’m sorry… We… We apologize on his behalf…”  

“Stop apologizing… call… call an ambulance…”  

With those final words, Chen Feng passed out from the sheer agony.  

See… something ominous did happen.