Chapter Forty-Nine: Please, No!!

The violin slipped from An Ruohuan’s hands, tumbling to the side and crashing down, the strings’ thunderous roar filling the entire room. An Ruohuan tried desperately to struggle to her feet, but her legs refused to move, her body unable to find leverage. She pressed her hands to the floor, trying to lift herself, only to see Mo Han rise and step toward her, planting his foot directly onto her delicate, slender hand.

“I told you, this violin is worth more than your life. Even if you die, you mustn’t let it suffer the slightest harm. Did you take my words as empty air?”

With that, Mo Han kicked her in the chest, sending her sprawling upward, then seized her throat in one hand. An Ruohuan tried helplessly to push him away, but he twisted her arms behind her back. Her eyes bulged as his grip tightened.

“All this time, and you still dare to resist me? If you hadn’t always tried to run, Uncle Mo would never have had to saw off your legs. Poor you, so eager to enter the Death Row Playground to search for your sister—if she could see you now, I wonder what she would think?”

At first, An Ruohuan looked at Mo Han with helpless pleading, her eyes full of grievance and terror, but the moment she heard the word “sister,” rage flared within her. She struggled furiously, desperate to break free from his grip.

“I have no damned sister! Don’t associate that filthy woman with me! If it weren’t for her, my parents would still be alive. It’s her fault, everything I’ve suffered is her fault! I’ll kill her with my own hands, I’ll—”

She tried to keep cursing, but Mo Han, annoyed, simply tightened his grip, forcing her into painful, choking sobs.

“Tsk, tsk… such a beautiful shell, yet such a venomous heart—what a waste. But don’t worry. Uncle Mo will further transform you, so that in the end, you’ll meet your sister in the most perfect form. Next, how about turning your hands into leaves? Then, one by one, I’ll remove your organs, crush your ribcage and breastbone, further shrinking your upper body until it’s as slender as your neck. Ah, just thinking of it makes me tremble with excitement. Oh, and how about some chlorophyll gene modifications? Then you could photosynthesize. Even if I tire of you and toss you into a corner without food or water, you still wouldn’t starve to death, right? See how considerate Uncle Mo is—he’s thought of everything!”

At these words, terror and fury tangled and festered in An Ruohuan’s heart, but she dared not resist. As an A-level prisoner, she knew just how terrifying Mo Han’s strength was. Not only A-levels—even S-level and SS-level inmates couldn’t hope to match him. Only the legendary SSS-levels could hold their own for even a moment.

That was why, when her abilities advanced from dangerous prisoner to A-level, her first thought wasn’t revenge but escape. If she could get away, it would be a stroke of luck amid misfortune. She would disappear, change her name, and never even dream of vengeance.

Overturning the Death Row Playground was impossible, pure fantasy—she didn’t even dare think about it.

Yet, the moment she escaped that place, a sudden, inexplicable dread seized her. At that instant, she felt as if the giant bat-shaped building behind her had come alive. Every grain of sand, every stone in the Death Row Playground exuded a deadly, evil aura. She heard countless souls wailing in her ears. The soul-devouring parasite she had just managed to control began to shudder at its core, as if under the wrath of its king, and forced An Ruohuan’s body to kneel.

Only then did she understand that the soul-devouring parasite, like the prisoners themselves, was strictly hierarchical. It usually lay dormant, but if she tried to break from the swarm, she would be seen as a traitor, and the higher breed’s pressure would force her to submit without mercy.

After she was caught, they brought her to the operating room. When she awoke, she found herself swaying in the breeze. She tried to move, only to find nothing beneath her. Looking down in horror, she realized she was “growing” from a stalk of green plant. In that moment, her world collapsed, and she fainted once more.

Afterward, she was sent to Mo Han’s office as a living ornament. The moment she laid eyes on Mo Han, she felt as if a worker ant had met its queen—the same oppressive force she’d felt during her escape came crashing over her again. From that moment, she understood: her hope for this life had ended.

She thought of suicide, but did not follow through. At the very least, she would not die before the woman who had caused her parents’ deaths. She would kill the sister she had called family for over a decade, and then this old monster before her. Even if she couldn’t win, at least she would have tried.

She waited, swallowing her pride, enduring everything for the right moment. Even if she had become half-human, half-ghost, her heart had already died…

“Oh? Why don’t I see gratitude in your eyes? Hasn’t Uncle Mo treated you well?!”

As they spoke, the room’s sole light—the red candle on the desk—burned down, plunging the office into darkness. In the gloom, the glint off Mo Han’s glasses still shimmered faintly.

“This office is one of my prized collections. Today, Uncle Mo will make an exception and show you its marvels.”

He took out a new red candle and lit it, this time setting it in a slightly different spot.

Instantly, the room grew even brighter than before. An Ruohuan had always assumed that there was some lighting hidden within the diamond walls, never imagining that a single candle could illuminate the room so brilliantly. How was this possible?

“Heh, refraction, you know? This desk has thirty-six candle positions. Each one corresponds to exactly eighteen thousand diamond prism refraction points. A single ray of light is refracted eighteen thousand times, then reflected back to the source, over and over. Naturally, the room becomes as bright as day.”

As Mo Han spoke, he kept moving the candle’s position, causing the light to wax and wane. Yet, whether dim or bright, the room was filled with an indescribable, dazzling elegance.

“Don’t just stare at the candle. Look up at the walls.”

Mo Han was still absorbed in playing with the candle, reminding An Ruohuan without even glancing up.

Perplexed, An Ruohuan lifted her head—and instantly clapped a trembling hand over her mouth, her eyes widening to the extreme. She shuddered uncontrollably, her upper body collapsing backward against the wall.

For within those exquisite walls, set like artwork, were the corpses of prisoners transformed into grotesque shapes. Specially preserved and arranged in various poses, their faces, caught in shifting light and shadow, displayed a spectrum of despair, fear, pleading, and prayer.

“No!!!”

An Ruohuan could no longer control herself and screamed. Who were these people? Even forced into smiling expressions, the despair in their eyes reached out like tentacles from the abyss, dragging her into the depths of chaos.

“No, I don’t want this, I don’t want this, never, never!!”

All the composure An Ruohuan had ever feigned collapsed utterly in that moment.