The moment those two words were spoken, Han Meng froze in place.
Initially, Han Meng had assumed the other party was a "Calamity." But the moment the figure spoke, he hesitated... No, it was said that among Calamities, there were rare, highly intelligent beingsâthough such Calamities were of an extremely high rank, at least seventh-tier or above.
However, since the other party was capable of communication, it suggested they harbored no strong hostility toward him. And in the Gray Realm, Calamities that held any goodwill toward humans were practically nonexistent.
Thus, Han Meng was more inclined to believe that the other party was human.
After a brief hesitation, Han Meng was about to step asideâthe passage was far too narrow for two people to walk side by side.
Just then, a rustling sound came from behind.
Han Meng turned his head and saw the shadowy centipedes clinging to the cliff walls retreating in unison... as if deliberately avoiding that flash of crimson. In the blink of an eye, the black tide had receded back into the crevices of the rocks.
In the deathly silence of the canyon, only he and the figure draped in scarlet opera robes remained, standing face to face.
So, that "move aside" hadnât been directed at him?
Han Meng looked back at the figure, deep confusion and wariness flashing in his eyes... His earlier assumption was shaken once more. How could a mere human drive back so many Calamities with just a few words?
Human or CalamityâHan Meng could no longer tell. The crimson-robed figure was undoubtedly the most mysterious and eerie existence he had ever encountered. Just standing there, it embodied an endless enigma.
At this moment, Chen Ling was equally stunned.
His original intention had been to ask Han Meng to step aside so he could deal with the pursuing "fodder." Yet, the moment he spoke, the creatures retreated on their own... Back in District Three, they hadnât been nearly this "polite."
Both men fell into contemplation.
In the suffocating silence, Han Meng felt the pitch-black mask staring at him grow increasingly unsettling. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, the scene before him blurred, and his body swayed before collapsing to the ground.
Chen Ling was taken aback. Only then did he notice the steady trickle of blood seeping from Han Mengâs wounds, pooling into a murky puddle beneath him at some point.
He had lost too much blood.
"...Lucky you ran into me," Chen Ling murmured under the black mask. "You saved me once. Now Iâve saved you... Weâre even."
---
Shhhâ
Shhhâ
The sound of scraping gravel came from below, as though something was being dragged across the ground.
Han Mengâs consciousness gradually returned. After a few seconds, he realized he was being hauled along the blackened earth like a corpse.
Instinctively, his hand clawed at the ground, trying to push himself up and draw his gun, but excruciating pain erupted from all over his body. With a stifled groan, he was forced to stop moving... At the same time, the figure dragging him halted.
Under the lead-gray clouds drifting across the sky, the crimson-robed figure turned its head calmly to look at him.
"Youâre awake."
The low voice carried no emotion, and paired with the pitch-black smiling mask, it exuded an indescribable eeriness.
Releasing the grip on Han Mengâs collar, the figure let him slump fully onto the ground. Han Meng frowned, struggling to prop himself up on his elbows, but the voice spoke again, "I wouldnât recommend standing right now. If your wounds reopen, youâll die."
Han Mengâs face was as pale as paper. Only now did he notice that the dozen or so bone spikes embedded in his body had been removed at some point. His coat had been torn into strips and crudely wrapped around his injuries to staunch the bleeding.
Given his original condition, leaving the wounds untreated would have meant bleeding out.
Han Meng lifted his head to look at the figure, his voice hoarse, "Who are you?"
The black mask stared back at him, offering no answer.
After a long silence, Han Meng asked a second question, "Why did you save me?"
A moment later, the crimson-robed figure let out a soft chuckle and replied in an offhand tone, "Itâs rare to come across a promising seedling on the
[Judgment]
path... Itâd be a shame to let you die here."
[Audience Expectation Points +3]
Of course, Chen Ling couldnât tell the truth. When Han Meng asked that question, he had to admit a mischievous impulse arose in himâno, more accurately, he was striving to make the "plot" more engaging.
The Eighth Rule of Chenâs Directing Principles:
Information asymmetry is one of the sources of satisfaction in a plot. When the audience observes a conflict from an omniscient perspective while the characters lack full awareness, they naturally immerse themselves in the scene and anticipate further developments. If the characters involved in the information gap already have inherent dramatic tension, the sense of anticipation intensifies.
Han Meng narrowed his eyes slightly, a glint of suspicion and speculation flickering in his gaze as he studied the crimson-robed figure...
"Youâre a Fusionist," he declared.
Chen Lingâs eyes behind the mask narrowed. "Oh?"
"You have a human form and the ability to communicate, and you bear no hostility toward meâso youâre likely not a Calamity native to the Gray Realm. Yet, you frightened off those Calamities with just a few words, meaning there must be something about you that makes them wary... The only explanation is that youâre a Fusionist, and the Calamity youâve merged with is of a high rank."
Han Meng was, after all, the Chief Enforcer of District Three. Right now, he didnât seem like someone who had just narrowly escaped death, nor was he intimidated by Chen Lingâs words. Instead, he dissected everything that had just happened with razor-sharp logic, calmly delivering his conclusion.
Han Mengâs deduction took Chen Ling by surprise, but upon reflection, it wasnât entirely unexpected... After all, this was Han Meng.
When Chen Ling first arrived in this era and was doing his utmost to conceal the existence of the "Audience," Han Meng had been the only one in the entire law enforcement system who had nearly caught him... Chen Ling still vividly remembered the pressure heâd felt from Han Mengâs terrifying attention to detail and deductive prowess.
"So what?" Chen Ling couldnât be bothered to argue. Like a magician, he produced a pistol out of thin air and pressed the barrel against Han Mengâs forehead.
Behind the black smiling mask, his voice was icy and devoid of emotion, "Are you going to arrest me... Enforcer?"
Han Meng met his gaze calmly.
A moment later, he spoke again, "I donât like my fate being in someone elseâs hands."
"So?"
"Even though you saved me, right now... Iâd prefer if you lowered that gun first."
Before the words had fully left his mouth, the strands of mental energy Han Meng had recovered during his unconsciousness were rapidly depleted. A sharp glint flashed in his eyes as he struck at point-blank range!