Chapter 5

For the past few days, Xi Le had been staying up late due to his curiosity about the Tiny People Cities.

Grabbing a bottle of milk, Xi Le headed to work with an expressionless face.

This couldn’t go on any longer. If it continued, he might make mistakes during surgeries—something utterly irresponsible toward his patients.

Upon arriving at the hospital, Xi Le encountered an obstetrician—Li Zhuoxue.

Dr. Li Zhuoxue was a gentle physician, wearing gold-rimmed glasses and appearing refined and scholarly.

She was an extremely responsible doctor, meticulous in her work and very fond of children.

But in the original host’s memories, this doctor was an extreme researcher of the occult, often mentioning “loss of control” and had once invited the original host to join a mysticism research group, only to be refused.

Seeing Xi Le, Li Zhuoxue gave him a slight nod.

Xi Le smiled in return.

After lunch, Xi Le stretched lazily.

Gazing out the window, he suddenly thought of Song Huai.

He wondered if Song Huai had caught the killer yet.

Although he had desperately wanted to take his wife’s fingernails back, Song Huai ultimately left the specimens untouched.

He feared alerting the enemy. Zhu Yongchang had evaded detection for so many years—he was undoubtedly cautious. If tipped off, Zhu Yongchang would become even more vigilant, making it far harder to catch him next time.

Suppressing his grief and fury, Song Huai took photos of all the human organs, then meticulously restored the scene before leaving undetected.

With the photos in hand, Song Huai immediately sought out official Awakeners.

In Blue Nation’s police force, 50% were useless incompetents, but Awakeners were different—they were far more capable than regular officers. That was the fundamental reason he turned to them.

He couldn’t let the clues given by the God of the Red Moon go to waste. He would avenge his wife!

But after hearing him out, the Awakener looked at him with an odd expression.

“You’re saying the killer who murdered your wife five years ago is someone named Zhu Yongchang? And that he’s a Contaminant?”

Song Huai, agitated, accidentally knocked over a cup on the table. “Yes, it’s him! You need to send people to arrest him before he escapes.”

The Awakener smiled wryly. “I suspect you’re toying with us. I know you’ve been searching for the killer all these years, but without concrete evidence, we can’t act.”

Without another word, Song Huai produced the photos he’d taken in Zhu Yongchang’s home.

“These are photos from Zhu Yongchang’s house. My wife’s removed fingernails are here, along with organs from other victims!”

The Awakener’s face paled upon seeing the photos.

After verification, the photos were confirmed authentic—unaltered.

If Song Huai’s claims were true, then Zhu Yongchang was indeed the killer. Based on the number of specimens in the photos, his victims numbered in the double digits. By Contaminant classification standards, he was already a B-level Contaminant.

Horrified, the Awakener hastily prepared to dispatch a team.

At Cangshan Residential Area, Zhu Yongchang sat resting on a park bench.

He gently fanned himself, occasionally humming a tune.

But upon closer inspection, one would notice his gaze lingering on a child in the distance.

The child’s eyes were truly beautiful, like stars in the sky. He was currently lacking such a piece of artwork. If he could gouge out the child’s eyes and display them in his room, it would surely be magnificent.

Zhu Yongchang smiled even more delightedly, unable to resist thinking about his collection of specimens.

Five years ago, Zhu Yongchang had developed a habit of collecting specimens, but the one that satisfied him the most was still the fingernails of a woman named A Ling.

Closing his eyes, Zhu Yongchang seemed to still be relishing the pleasure of killing that person.

He remembered A Ling vividly because she was his most outstanding masterpiece.

The day before the incident, Zhu Yongchang was resting at the entrance of a supermarket, sweating profusely. A beautiful woman, thinking he was thirsty, approached him with a bottle of water and handed it to him with a smile.

In the scorching summer heat, a bottle of water could bring refreshing relief, but Zhu Yongchang’s gaze wasn’t fixed on the water—it was on the woman’s fingernails.

Her nails were smooth and lovely, unpolished and unadorned, shimmering like diamonds under the sunlight.

They were one-of-a-kind, extraordinary works of art! He wanted to preserve those fingernails, to treasure them alongside his other masterpieces.

The very next day, Zhu Yongchang took action. While A Ling was still conscious, he brutally tore out her fingernails. But she wasn’t obedient at all—she struggled desperately. So, Zhu Yongchang had to smash her head and stab her body to make her behave.

He hadn’t expected the woman to be pregnant, but that didn’t matter. In fact, the unborn fetus was even more delicious, leaving an unforgettable aftertaste.

To this day, Zhu Yongchang still carefully preserved those ten extracted fingernails, occasionally taking them out to caress.

They were perfect, the most flawless masterpiece!

And now, he was about to collect his twelfth artwork. How exciting.

Soon, the opportunity arrived. The boy’s mother seemed to have an urgent matter and hurriedly left after receiving a phone call.

Zhu Yongchang licked his lips and leisurely approached the boy.

The boy recognized Zhu Yongchang and happily called out, “Uncle!” when he saw him.

Zhu Yongchang responded with a smile, then swallowed hard.

He took out a piece of candy and handed it to the boy. “Here, have this.”

The boy beamed. “Thank you, Uncle!”

The once-kindly middle-aged man suddenly pressed his lips together.

As the boy reached for the candy, Zhu Yongchang stretched out his hand and clamped it tightly over the boy’s mouth.

Though it was just a simple action, it was a world apart from the gentle demeanor he had shown earlier. Now, he radiated unrestrained violence.

The boy’s eyes widened in shock. He tried to cry out for his mother, but with his mouth covered, no sound escaped.

The man’s strength was overwhelming—the boy was smothered into unconsciousness.

Once the boy had passed out, Zhu Yongchang tilted his head and lovingly stroked the child’s eyes, murmuring with satisfaction and obsession, “What beautiful eyes.”

This smile was his usual expression, but now it bore no trace of his former benevolence. Instead, it was eerie and terrifying.

A tentacle slithered out from his eye, then vanished without a sound.

Zhu Yongchang quickly took the boy back to his home.

Despite his seemingly obese appearance, the man moved with astonishing agility on his way back, deftly avoiding all surveillance cameras without leaving a trace.  

Overjoyed, his lips twisted into a grotesque grin, making him look like a demon.  

He placed the boy on the table, extending octopus-like tentacles from his eyes and stabbing them into the boy’s, attempting to gouge out his eyeballs while he was still alive.  

Blood gushed from the boy’s eyes, but barely a second later, a swarm of police officers stormed in.  

“Freeze! Hands up!”  

Zhu Yongchang froze for a split second before reacting, grabbing the boy and immediately bolting toward the window.  

He leaped down, only to find more police waiting below, including several Awakeners.  

Zhu Yongchang was stunned.  

What was going on? He had been so careful—how had the Awakeners tracked him down?  

Moving at an unnatural speed, Zhu Yongchang dashed outward, still clutching the child. The Awakeners hesitated, not daring to act recklessly.  

Surrounded on all sides, escape seemed impossible.  

Did they really think this could trap him?  

With a sinister smirk, countless tentacles erupted from beneath Zhu Yongchang’s body, while another slithered out from his eye socket, pushing his original eyeball out of place.  

After becoming a Contaminant, Zhu Yongchang’s mutations had manifested as tentacles and extreme sharpness—his appendages were sharper than blades, ranking among the top ten hardest among all B-class Contaminants.  

Swinging his tentacles, Zhu Yongchang slaughtered every Awakener they touched.  

Once he had shaken them off, he grinned in triumph. It was a shame he hadn’t had time to retrieve his specimens, but no matter—he could always make more later.  

Mid-escape, someone suddenly blocked his path.  

Zhu Yongchang halted, licking his lips as he recognized the man. “You’re the husband of that woman, A Ling?”  

Song Huai roared, “So it really was you who killed her!”  

Zhu Yongchang sneered, “Took you long enough to figure it out, idiot! Don’t worry—I’ll reunite you with your wife soon.”  

Extending his tentacles, Zhu Yongchang’s grin grew even more grotesque.  

As he lashed out, he taunted, “You should’ve seen the look of terror on your wife’s face—it was exquisite. I still keep all ten of her fingernails as treasures, licking them from time to time. And your child? So tender, even more delicious than a lamb.”  

He reveled in the shifting expressions on Song Huai’s face, delighting in his torment.  

It didn’t matter how this man or the Awakeners had discovered his identity. Killing one more wouldn’t make a difference.  

His attacks grew fiercer, each swing of his tentacles capable of ending Song Huai’s life.  

Song Huai remained eerily calm, nimbly dodging another slash, but his body was already littered with wounds.  

Even the slightest graze from Zhu Yongchang’s tentacles sliced off chunks of flesh, the injuries instantly rotting from contamination.

Over the years, Song Huai had trained relentlessly to find his wife’s killer, consumed by thoughts of vengeance. Yet Zhu Yongchang was a Contaminant, and the gap between Contaminants and ordinary humans was vast. Even the lowest-level Contaminant could easily kill three grown men. Gradually, Song Huai found himself at a disadvantage.  

After a moment, Zhu Yongchang suddenly halted, as if struck by an idea. His lips twisted into a grin as an even larger tentacle slithered out from his mouth, shooting straight toward Song Huai’s heart, aiming to pierce it clean through.  

Zhu Yongchang’s eyes gleamed with eerie crimson light, his excitement palpable.  

“Die!”  

Panic and fury flashed in Song Huai’s eyes—but not a trace of fear.  

Only regret. Regret that, despite pushing himself to this point, he still hadn’t avenged his wife.  

He had failed the God of the Red Moon’s favor. The deity had even revealed the killer’s name to him, yet he couldn’t even manage to kill the man!  

Resentment surged in Song Huai’s heart—but then, something changed.  

Zhu Yongchang noticed a thin, armor-like layer covering Song Huai’s body. His razor-sharp tentacle couldn’t pierce through!  

Zhu Yongchang’s expression twisted in shock.  

What was this? Song Huai was just an ordinary human—how could he block this attack? And Zhu Yongchang was a B-rank Contaminant!  

Song Huai, too, sensed the anomaly in his body.  

At the same time, he realized his hair had come alive, stabbing into Zhu Yongchang’s flesh and draining his life force!  

In that instant, the roles of hunter and prey reversed. Zhu Yongchang stared in horror at the transformation before him, his mouth twisting into a wretched scream.  

“Save me! Save me!”  

Song Huai didn’t understand what was happening or why his hair and skin had changed like this.  

All he felt was warmth—like basking in sunlight, soothing and radiant.  

Soon, realization struck him.  

His hair carried the aura of the Crimson Moon.  

It was the God of the Red Moon! The great God of the Red Moon had granted him this power!  

Song Huai’s eyes burned with wild joy and boundless gratitude.  

The merciful God of the Red Moon had not only revealed the killer’s identity but also bestowed upon him this immense strength! How magnificent He was—far greater than Song Huai had ever imagined!  

The speed at which his hair absorbed Zhu Yongchang’s life force intensified. Amid agonized wails, Zhu Yongchang’s body convulsed, his tentacles rotting away as he clawed at his own face in desperation.  

Before him, visions surfaced—images of himself bound to a chair, organs being ripped out barehanded, nails torn off, the skin of his thighs peeled away.  

These were the very atrocities Zhu Yongchang had inflicted on others. Now, the torment had come full circle.  

When he had committed these acts, Zhu Yongchang had been exhilarated, reveling in the creation of another flawless “artwork.”  

But now that the same horrors befell him, exhilaration was the last thing he felt.  

Stop! Stop it!  

“Help! Help me!!”  

“Spare me! I’ll never do it again!”  

“I won’t make any more ‘art’—I’m a monster!”  

For the first time, Song Huai felt an overwhelming sense of satisfaction.  

So even this demon could be reduced to such a pitiful, suffering wreck.

It turned out that the demon who had tormented him for five long years, making him constantly think of revenge, wasn’t all that powerful after all! At this moment, he didn’t seem so formidable.

In just a brief instant, many things happened too quickly for anyone to react. An Awakener soon arrived and, upon seeing the scene before him, immediately fired a shot at Zhu Yongchang.

With a “bang,” the bullet entered Zhu Yongchang’s head and exited through the other side.

One bullet after another was fired in rapid succession, and before long, Zhu Yongchang stopped breathing entirely.

Before the Awakener arrived, Song Huai had already reverted his hair to its normal state.

Staring at the lifeless Zhu Yongchang before him, the previously composed Song Huai uncharacteristically slumped to the ground, tears welling in his eyes.

He pulled out a knife and stabbed it forcefully into Zhu Yongchang’s body, continuing even after riddling the corpse with holes.

The murderer who had tormented Song Huai for five long years was finally dead!

Song Huai exhaled sharply, venting the pent-up relief in his heart.

From now on, A Ling could rest in peace, and he could finally sleep soundly again.

A Ling, do you see? The one who killed you is dead. I’ve avenged you.

The boy’s mother also arrived, but fortunately, the boy wasn’t seriously injured—only his eyes were slightly hurt.

The mother hugged her son, sobbing uncontrollably.

“I’m so sorry, my child. I’ll never leave you alone like that again.”

The police began sealing off the scene and gathering evidence from Zhu Yongchang’s room, where they discovered a large collection of human organs preserved as “art.”

This confirmed that Zhu Yongchang was indeed the murderer from five years ago and that he had secretly killed eleven other people.

Later, the police asked, “How did you track Zhu Yongchang down? And how did you subdue him? He was a B-rank Contaminant, while you’re just an ordinary person.”

But Song Huai shook his head. “I didn’t do any of this.”

The officer grew intrigued. “Then who did?”

Song Huai smiled, then revealed a slightly deranged expression. “It was the Crimson Moon! The Crimson Moon told me!”

Like Tong Miao, Song Huai had become a fervent believer in the Crimson Moon at that moment. But unlike Tong Miao—who only wished to be the Crimson Moon Master’s favorite, his sole devotee—Song Huai wanted the God of the Red Moon to be worshipped by everyone in the world.

He was so magnificent, so benevolent—He should be the faith of all mankind!

The officer taking notes was baffled.

With a strange expression, the officer repeated, “The Crimson Moon?”

As if finding a kindred spirit, Song Huai praised obsessively, “Yes, Him! The great Crimson Moon! He answered my prayers, revealed the killer’s name to me, and bestowed upon me immense power, allowing me to turn the tide in my darkest hour!”

“All of this was the Crimson Moon’s doing. He is the greatest Evil God!”

Like a man possessed, Song Huai began vividly describing his devotion to the Crimson Moon to the officer.

The officer grew uneasy, his hair standing on end, and quickly reported the matter to the Awakeners.

When Cheng Qianming heard about this, his brow furrowed.

The Crimson Moon?

Lately, Cheng Qianming had been investigating the previous “meat paste” incident. Now, upon hearing Song Huai speak of the Crimson Moon, his frown deepened slightly.

To uncover the truth, Cheng Qianming decided to investigate personally.

Cheng Qianming sat across from Song Huai, scrutinizing him closely.

After a minute, Cheng Qianming asked, “Was it the Crimson Moon that answered your prayers?”

Song Huai nodded fervently. “Yes, it was the Crimson Moon that saved me. It redeemed me. If not for Its grace, I could never have avenged my wife. It has awakened. It has descended into this world! It watches over us!”

Song Huai’s voice trembled with fervent excitement, as if he wanted the entire world to know the Crimson Moon’s greatness.

A chill ran down Cheng Qianming’s spine. He chose his words carefully. “How exactly did you pray?”

Song Huai explained the prayer ritual in detail.

Cheng Qianming murmured, “Just like that? Were there any other specific steps or precautions?”

Song Huai shook his head. “Nothing else.”

Cheng Qianming stood up. “Alright, I understand now.”

After leaving the room, Cheng Qianming fell into deep thought.

Another Awakener beside him asked, “Captain Cheng, do you think Song Huai is telling the truth?”

Cheng Qianming replied, “How would I know? I don’t have the ability to discern truth from lies.”

But inwardly, Cheng Qianming didn’t believe Song Huai’s words.

The Crimson Moon carried heavy religious symbolism. With its decaying appearance, mysterious hue, and corrupting influence, it had long been adopted as an emblem by various cults and organizations.

Countless groups operated under the banner of the Crimson Moon. Was this the work of one such organization—or perhaps a Contaminant?

Moreover, historical records showed the Crimson Moon had never exhibited sentience. It never responded to anyone, merely casting its light upon the world. How could it possibly answer human prayers?

If the Crimson Moon were truly so benevolent, why did this world still teem with Contaminants and Evil Gods? Why had his niece suffered such horrors?

A faint crimson glint flickered in Cheng Qianming’s eyes as memories of that night resurfaced.

After a long silence, he finally composed himself and said to the Awakener beside him, “It’s nothing. You can go now.”

After Zhu Yongchang’s death, the police began notifying the victims’ families one by one.

Apart from Song Huai, many relatives hadn’t even known their loved ones were victims.

When they received the calls, some initially dismissed them as scams.

Upon confirmation, they could only clutch their loved ones’ remains and weep in despair.

The wails cast a somber shadow over the police station. Though such scenes were routine, the raw grief still weighed heavily on some officers.

Returning home, Cheng Qianming saw the Crimson Moon had risen, its cold glow bathing the world.

But in Song Huai’s eyes, it was the greatest of deities.

Eagerly, Song Huai began his prayers, thanking the mighty God of the Red Moon for bestowing power upon him. He recounted every detail of the day’s events like a dutiful report to his divine patron.

Meanwhile, in the hospital, Xi Le—midway through surgery—suddenly sensed something. On his scalpel appeared a miniature house unlike any he’d seen before.

Inside, a Tiny Person knelt in reverence, offering gratitude to Xi Le.

Xi Le recognized him instantly: Song Huai.

Gone was the man’s expression of hollow despair. In its place shone a radiant smile—and a devotion mirroring Tong Miao’s.

Xi Le suddenly noticed a red, coordinate-like object appearing inside Song Huai’s body, and Song Huai had become his fanatical believer.  

After the surgery was completed, Xi Le removed his mask, took a deep breath of fresh air, and checked online to see if there were any reports about Zhu Yongchang’s case.  

Zhu Yongchang’s case had made it to the Trending Search, sparking heated discussions online. Almost everyone on the internet was condemning Zhu Yongchang.

To minimize the impact, the authorities did not report that Song Huai had once prayed to the Crimson Moon in this incident.  

However, the public uproar over Zhu Yongchang’s case still exceeded everyone’s expectations.  

In the photos, Zhu Yongchang appeared gentle and kind, the very image of a friendly neighbor. Yet this same man was a brutal Contaminant who had killed eleven people and remained at large for five years!  

Among the majority of the victims, many—like A Ling—had been deceived by Zhu Yongchang’s benevolent appearance and couldn’t help but offer him help.  

Yet, in the end, their kindness was repaid with eternal slumber.  

In this world, kindness was rewarded with such an outcome—what bitter irony.