Bal: So, I made my move

Chen Guan’s existence was like a line of unreadable code in his otherwise perfect program.

He swirled the wine in his glass, the amber liquid reflecting a cold gleam beneath the lights.

An uncontrollable secret was the greatest variable of all.

He drained the ice wine in one gulp. The chill slid down his throat, yet it could not suppress the restless heat rising in his heart.

“A perfect script cannot allow its actors to improvise.”

He walked over to Su Qing and raised a hand, stroking her hollow cheek.

“Don’t you agree?”

Su Qing’s body trembled. She nodded stiffly.

“Looks like I’ll have to add a scene for him myself.”

Liu Xiao smiled. They had no real grudge against each other, but there was no turning back for him now.

He released Su Qing, walked to the center of the room, and slowly closed his eyes.

“Great Lord Astaroth.”

He called out reverently in his heart.

“Your loyal servant needs to borrow your eyes, to see into a lost soul.”

The frost mark in the palm of his right hand lit up, brighter than ever before.

Cold air streamed from the mark, gathering before him and outlining a mirror formed from solid frost.

The image on its surface warped and flickered before finally settling into place.

The mirror did not show the guest room in the Liu family estate. Instead, it revealed only an endless darkness.

Liu Xiao frowned.

“What’s going on?”

He increased the flow of power. The frost mark in his palm nearly seemed to burn.

The frosted mirror shook violently, but the darkness within only grew deeper, transforming into a black hole that seemed ready to devour anything in its path.

Just as Liu Xiao was attempting to force his way through that darkness—

“Heh heh heh.”

A strange, mocking laugh rang out directly in his mind from the other side of the mirror.

The laughter was languid and full of lofty contempt, like an ancient god who had slept for countless ages, amused by the provocation of a tiny insect.

“Pfft.”

Liu Xiao opened his eyes and spat a mouthful of blood onto the frosted mirror before him.

The mirror let out a mournful wail. Cracks instantly spread across its surface, and it shattered into countless ice crystals that scattered and vanished.

“Cough… cough, cough…”

He dropped to one knee and began coughing violently. The frost mark on his right hand flickered erratically, sending waves of searing pain through him.

This was not mere backlash. It was absolute suppression by a higher order of existence.

It was like a child attacking a burning star with a snowball. The only possible outcome was evaporation.

“What was that…?”

For the first time, fear appeared on Liu Xiao’s face.

“That definitely wasn’t an ability. It wasn’t within the realm of humanity…”

The demonic contract he had always been so proud of was as fragile as paper before that faint laugh.

Within Chen Guan’s body—or perhaps beside him—there was an existence far more terrifying and far more ancient than Astaroth.

Something even more terrifying than Him…

“A variable…”

Liu Xiao murmured, then began to laugh softly. His laughter grew louder and louder, carrying the delirious exhilaration of someone who had narrowly escaped death.

He leaned against the wall and rose to his feet, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth.

His handsome face twisted with excitement and apprehension, his eyes filled with nothing but fanaticism.

“How interesting.”

“Far too interesting.”

The dormant whispers of Astaroth surged madly through his mind. The voice was both a scream and a manifestation of fear.

But Liu Xiao no longer cared.

He looked at the still figure on the screen and said in a low voice, “The cat-and-mouse game is over.”

Now, a venomous snake that had trespassed into his territory had set its sights on another venomous snake.

He picked up the glass of ice wine again but did not drink it. Instead, he slowly poured the wine onto the floor.

“To welcome the new player.”

He raised the glass toward the empty room, wearing a perfect, flawless smile.

Then he turned and looked at the woman standing behind him, motionless as a statue.

“Su Qing.”

Liu Xiao’s voice had returned to its calm, gentle tone, but every word was an order.

“Go. Take a gift to Student Chen Guan.”

…

Chen Guan’s voice was soft, yet it made the air throughout the room tremble.

“Why couldn’t someone fabricate a corpse to prove Liu Xiao’s death?”

The entire guest room fell into absolute silence.

Liu Feiyu froze where he stood, as if all the strength had been drained from his body. He could not move.

Fabricate a corpse.

Those four words completely overturned the foundation of his revenge and shattered everything he thought he understood about the matter.

“This…”

Hong Yuan opened her mouth, but not a single word came out. She only felt a chill crawl up her spine.

Long Ao, who had been leaning against the wall, shifted slightly. For the first time, the eyes that usually burned with fighting spirit revealed solemn contemplation.

“Exactly.”

An Changqing’s eyes sharpened. He instantly seized the key point everyone else had overlooked, rapidly reconstructing the logic of the entire affair in his mind.

“If the other side could so easily fabricate a murder video and frame Liu Chengjun…”

An Changqing’s gaze fell on Liu Feiyu, his voice calm to the point of cruelty.

“Why couldn’t they use the same method to fabricate Liu Xiao’s corpse and allow him to escape perfectly through a staged death?”

That deduction struck precisely at the blind spot in all their thinking.

In Chen Guan’s mind, Baal’s delighted laughter rang out at just the right moment.

“Heh heh heh. See? A few of them finally have brains quick enough to keep up.”

Baal’s voice was languid, filled with the pleasure of watching a show.

“Creating a shell without any life force, then simulating fatal wounds…”

“For a contractor of Astaroth, that would be easier than breathing.”

Chen Guan understood the situation now. He calmly looked at Liu Feiyu, whose spirit was already on the verge of collapse.

“No. Impossible.”

Liu Feiyu finally forced the words out. He shook his head vigorously, as though he could fling the terrifying thought from his mind.

“I saw it with my own eyes. That was my second brother’s corpse. There’s no way I could be mistaken.”

He argued desperately, trying to convince everyone else—but it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself.

“When the corpse was pulled from the bottom of the lake, it was already stiff. The wound in the chest was exactly the same as the one in the video I received.”

Liu Feiyu’s breathing grew ragged. His clenched fists tightened until his knuckles protruded.

“I checked it. I checked it over and over.”

As he spoke, however, his voice sank lower and lower, his confidence draining away bit by bit.

That was true.

He had checked.

But he was neither a forensic pathologist nor a professional examiner.

What he called confirmation had been based largely on his familiarity with his second brother—and on emotions drowned in rage and grief.

When he saw that familiar face and the fatal wound, his reason had already been burned away by the flames of revenge.

But now that he thought about it, every piece of so-called evidence seemed suspiciously perfect—so perfect that it felt as though every detail had been designed in advance.

Liu Feiyu’s face turned deathly pale before their eyes.

The atmosphere in the room grew so heavy that it was difficult to breathe.

If even the corpse was fake…

Where was the real Liu Xiao?

And who was the real killer?