Bal Qiao Schemed in a Chain of Stratagems, Lao Ya Mistakenly Mounted the Execution Block

“There’s no point talking about this anymore.”

His gaze swept over everyone present, lingering for a moment longer on Chen Guan.

“Chen Guan.”

“Yeah.”

“Take care.”

Baal snorted inside Chen Guan’s mind. “Even on the verge of death, that brat still hasn’t forgotten to drive a wedge between you.”

Chen Guan said nothing. He only watched Liu Xiao.

Liu Xiao’s gaze shifted to Liu Feiyu. He opened his mouth, making a series of indistinct sounds as though he wanted to say something, but in the end, only managed a few brief words.

“Feiyu, I’m afraid of thunder.”

“Don’t tell anyone.”

Purple motes of light peeled away from his remaining body in great sheets, drifting upward through the hole the pillar of light had torn through the theater’s domed ceiling before vanishing into the night sky.

Liu Xiao’s figure completely dissipated.

The theater fell silent for a long while.

Long Ao sat on the floor, the blood on his left shoulder already congealed into a dark scab. He watched Liu Feiyu’s motionless back and, unusually, did not say a word.

Hong Yuan rested her ax across her knees and exhaled heavily.

An Changqing slowly sheathed his sword. The blade scraping against the mouth of the scabbard made a faint metallic sound that was especially clear in the silence.

“It’s over,” he said.

Chen Guan lowered his head and glanced at his left arm. From the elbow down, it had gone completely numb. His fingers were stiffly curled, like the dead branch of a withered tree.

Baal’s voice rang out. “The demonic cells in that arm have already invaded the bone marrow. If you don’t deal with it, they’ll spread to your shoulder within three days.”

“Can it be cured?”

“Yes, but you’ll need to find a suitable purification method. Your own regenerative ability will only accelerate their growth, so don’t use it recklessly. Wait for your human doctors to treat you.”

“Got it.”

“There’s one more thing.”

Baal’s tone turned strange.

“When you used the Black Mark to take that attack head-on, did you feel anything unusual?”

Chen Guan recalled the moment of impact. The sensation in his palm had indeed been strange. It had not merely been a clash of force—there had also been a feeling that something was peering into him.

“Astaroth saw me through that orb of light at that moment.”

“Clever.”

Baal’s voice deepened.

“What She saw wasn’t your face. It was Lord Bael’s mark. That means She remembers you.”

Chen Guan drew his right hand back to his side. The Black Mark in his palm had already returned to its calm state.

“So?”

“So, congratulations, kid. You’ve made it onto a demon god’s blacklist.”

There was actually a hint of schadenfreude in Baal’s voice.

“But don’t worry too much. Her true form can’t get out, so She can’t do anything to you for the time being. Her followers and servants in the mortal world, however, will probably come looking for trouble in the future.”

Chen Guan did not reply. His gaze settled on Liu Feiyu.

Liu Feiyu was still standing where he was, head tilted back as he stared at the dark hole in the domed ceiling. The night wind poured in from outside, stirring the loose hair over his forehead.

Liu Chengjun walked over to him and stood there for a while before reaching out to pat him on the shoulder.

Liu Feiyu did not move.

“Third Brother.”

“I’m fine.”

Liu Feiyu’s voice was numb. “Let’s go. People should be arriving outside.”

As soon as he finished speaking, a flurry of footsteps and shouts came from the theater entrance. Beams from flashlights shone in through the various doorways, illuminating the wreckage.

Yin Tianzheng’s voice came from the front, barely able to conceal his urgency.

“Anyone inside, report your status!”

An Changqing raised a hand and waved toward the lights.

“The Public Security Division is here.”

He turned to Chen Guan. “You need to hide that arm.”

Chen Guan stuffed his left arm into the sleeve of his coat. The black skin was concealed beneath the fabric, and the abnormality was no longer visible from the outside.

Long Ao pushed himself to his feet with one hand on his knee and shook his head. “What story are we going with?”

“The truth,” An Changqing said. “Liu Xiao colluded with a demon and summoned a demon god. We stopped the ritual, and Liu Xiao died in a self-detonation.”

“What about Chen Guan’s hand?” Hong Yuan asked.

An Changqing glanced at Chen Guan.

Chen Guan slipped his right hand into his pocket and said casually, “No need to mention it.”

If he wanted treatment, he could simply bypass the official channels.

The flashlight beams drew closer. Yin Tianzheng led more than a dozen members of the Public Security Division into the theater. When he saw the rubble and blood covering the floor, along with the several battered young people standing amid the ruins, he paused.

“You…”

His gaze swept over everyone before finally stopping on the enormous hole in the ceiling. His pupils contracted.

“That pillar of light—did you deal with it?”

An Changqing nodded.

Yin Tianzheng opened his mouth, seemingly wanting to say something, but in the end, all he managed was, “Medical team, get over here.”

Chen Guan leaned against a broken pillar and watched the medical personnel flood into the theater in a chaotic rush. Baal’s voice drifted through his mind again.

“Hey, kid.”

“What now?”

“Lord Bael said earlier that He’d help you clear out your emotions. You owe me a favor. Don’t forget it.”

“Guiding the resentment was something you volunteered to do.”

“Bullshit. You begged me to do it.”

“I said, ‘Thank you, Lord Bael, for being nothing but a piece of shit.’”

Baal’s voice cut out for two seconds. After rearranging the words, He seemed to understand.

“Were you insulting me just now?”

Chen Guan did not answer. The corner of his mouth lifted for an instant.

From Guan Jinyue to Liu Xiao, they had all told him the same thing without exception: never trust a demon god, and be careful of Baal.

To be honest, so far, Chen Guan had yet to feel that Baal’s presence had caused him any real problems.

Of course, he still hadn’t forgotten his less-than-pleasant first meeting with Baal.

To a demon god, humans would always be far too insignificant.

…

“You’re truly cold-blooded. You’re just going to watch your son struggle on the brink of life and death?”

High above the city, a tall woman quietly approached a man from behind. The man sensed her arrival but did not turn around.

“Aren’t you the same?”

“I’m not as heartless as you. My child isn’t here.”

“If she were, would you intervene?”

“She wouldn’t be here.”

Only then did the man turn around. He gave a soft chuckle.

“True. Still, there was danger, but no real peril.”

…

Elsewhere.

The Demon Realm.

Above the dome of Angel City, twelve inverted spires cast a pale light onto the ground, illuminating the long staircase built of bone and jade.

This was Astaroth’s domain.

She sat at the end of the elevated platform on a throne carved from solidified stardust. Her six wings were folded behind Her back. Of Her twelve eyes, only three were half open; all the others were closed as She repaired the damage caused by Her failed venture into the human world.

Her vessel in the human world had been destroyed. The magic array had collapsed, Her divine shadow had dissipated, and even Liu Xiao, the believer She had painstakingly cultivated, had been reduced to ash.

None of this could be considered a blow to Astaroth, but it was enough to put Her in a foul mood.

Then, an unwelcome presence crossed the borders of Angel City.

All three of Astaroth’s half-open eyes snapped fully open. Her gaze pierced through the dome and locked onto the mass of black fog making its way up the staircase.

The black mist dispersed with careless ease, its edges drifting in wisps across the bone steps and leaving faint scorch marks wherever it passed.

“Baal.”

Astaroth’s voice descended from the high platform, cold and carrying undisguised disgust.

“You’re nothing but a shattered fragment now, a relic of a bygone age. And you still dare show your face here?”