Space shrouded in darkness, suffused with a breath-stealing silence.
As if completely devoured by some creature, there was a sense of unknown oppression.
Fang Cheng floated in mid-air, his feet touching nothing.
Already accustomed to solitary cultivation in the deep sea, his heart remained undisturbed and truly adapted to tranquility.
Although his surroundings seemed boundlessly dark, Fang Cheng could clearly sense that the actual space was not large.
It resembled a room with the lights out, its walls draped in black silk curtains.
When he first walked in, he even heard the large door shut behind him with a "bang."
It seemed, though, that the room wasn’t finished—there was no floor beneath his feet, leaving him no choice but to float there.
Fang Cheng looked around slowly, turning to face the deepest darkness.
After about ten seconds passed, that polite greeting was indeed met with a response from the darkness.
The voice was gloomy and chilling, tinged with a hint of sickness.
Following that, a figure emitting a faint glow emerged from the darkness.
The light was dim and green, barely outlining the figure’s shape.
Thus, the features were extremely vague and unrecognizable, like a ghost wandering in the night.
"You’ve finally come..."
The figure stared intently at Fang Cheng, uttering a sentiment in a low voice, seemingly having waited a long time.
Although his face wasn’t clear, the chilling gaze projected towards him could be distinctly felt.
Fang Cheng silently considered for a few seconds, then asked:
"Who are you exactly? What do you want with me?"
The figure seemed to smile, introducing himself:
"You may call me, Smiling Demon."
He paused a moment, then continued at an unhurried pace:
"As for why I sought you out, it’s merely because I, a being of the same kind, sensed the presence of another of my kind and couldn’t contain my curiosity."
"So, the postcards you sent me twice, were just to satisfy your curiosity?"
Fang Cheng asked, gazing at him coolly.
The figure paused briefly, then said:
"You seem to have misunderstood something."
Hearing this, Fang Cheng also slightly startled.
The figure seemed quite annoyed then clarified:
"I actually sent you invitations three times. Only tonight did you deign to spare the time to honor my humble dwelling."
Then, as if realizing something crucial, he muttered to himself:
"That means one of the postcards was lost by me. Damn, it seems I misunderstood you..."
In the midst of speaking, he genuinely heaved a sigh of relief, as if he had resolved a long-troubling problem, appearing quite elated.
Looking at this somewhat mad fellow, Fang Cheng wasn’t as relieved.
He guessed that it must have been during his trip to Yong’an Island when the other party didn’t receive any response and thus sent another postcard.
By the time he had returned home, his unaware mother had taken it and, after many days, forgotten to inform him.
The thought that his mother might have intersected with this murderer before him.
A surge of murderous intent welled up in Fang Cheng’s heart, though he did not show it.
Perhaps because they were in a "voice chat room."
The other party was exceptionally sensitive and immediately voiced admiration:
"Such intense murderous intent, truly befitting the peer I have found, a genius with the talent of a Top Predator!"
Fang Cheng kept his expression calm, paying no heed to his mysterious rhetoric.
Then he straightforwardly said:
"I’ve already come over, so if there’s anything you have to say, say it directly. If it’s just small talk, I’m sorry, but it’s too late. I’m going back to sleep and will not be able to accompany you."
"Hey, it’s rare to meet a peer with whom I can communicate, why not chat a bit more? Don’t you ever feel lonely?"
The figure complained for a while, then suddenly changed the topic, asking solemnly:
"How is your illness now?"
Fang Cheng was somewhat bewildered by his abrupt question.
"I’ve investigated you, from middle school to university, from graduation to work, you have lived like an ordinary human being, never showing any signs of illness, nor displaying any violent tendencies in front of others."
The figure continued, voicing his doubts:
"How do you manage to do it? How can you control your behavior so perfectly?"
Fang Cheng’s gaze flickered slightly, and he remained silent.
Although he was unclear about what "illness" the figure was referring to,
seeing that the other party seemed to consider him a peer and didn’t show much malice, it might be better to maintain this image and guide the situation to gather useful information.
Thinking quickly, Fang Cheng answered in a calm tone:
"It’s simple, practice meditation, and through spiritual cultivation, constantly strengthen your willpower..."
He decided to regurgitate what Lin Chuqiao had told him, using it on the spot.
The figure seemed to frown, appearing a bit puzzled:
"I’ve studied meditation for ten years, and I believe my level surpasses that of my teacher. Why can’t I achieve this?"
"Do you have a clear meditation goal?"
"Aren’t we considered monsters simply because we can’t find the right meditation targets?"
Fang Cheng nodded, feigning agreement.
"So to prevent a relapse of my illness, I choose a very suitable target."
The figure asked eagerly.
Upon hearing this, the figure was initially stunned, then couldn’t help but burst out laughing:
"You’re crazier than I thought, you actually have schizophrenia!"
Fang Cheng looked at him speechlessly.
To be honest, if you don’t want to believe me, why insist I lie?
"So you are a schizophrenic."
The figure continued to shake his head and laugh, mumbling:
"No wonder, you look like an ordinary office worker, but that night you killed two hundred people without blinking, your achievements could rank in the national history of murderers..."
Upon hearing this, Fang Cheng’s gaze sharpened:
"Were you around that night too?"
The figure spoke somewhat resentfully, "Those scumbags of the Red Tiger Gang were originally my intended prey, but unfortunately, you got to them first."
After learning about this, many thoughts flashed through Fang Cheng’s mind.
Suddenly, his gaze intensified, and his entire body suddenly radiated light.
As if merging instantaneously with the flame in his mind, his slightly dim figure turned exceptionally bright.
The intense light shot out like arrows, piercing through the surrounding darkness and shaking the foundation of the room.
Seeing this, the figure tried to stop him, but let out a cry of pain.
Immediately, the surrounding darkness shattered like a broken mirror, restoring the scene of the bedroom.
Fang Cheng had already exited the "voice chat room," returning to reality.
In a church in the West Gate Suburb, shrouded in silence and darkness.
The young man, looking at the faint burn marks emerging on his palm, had a wide grin, appearing exceedingly happy.
It seemed as if the injuries sustained in the Spirit Space could also affect reality.