Chapter Fifty: The Impostor

"Shh~~~ Don't make a sound. Look behind you." Mo Han suddenly turned his head and made a silencing gesture at An Ruohuan, his voice gentle.

An Ruohuan immediately clamped her mouth shut, forcing herself not to scream. She was truly terrified; Mo Han's casual command could plunge her into utter ruin. She dared not disobey again. Her throat tightened as she slowly turned her head.

Within the wall behind her, directly facing An Ruohuan, stood—or rather, was placed—a girl resembling a potted plant. As Mo Han had said, except for her head, the girl's entire body had been transformed into vegetation. She smiled quietly at An Ruohuan, but upon closer inspection, a faint seam ran across her face, evidence of it having been torn apart and stitched back together, making her smile painfully awkward. The girl had no eyeballs; instead, two crystalline spheres of diamond replaced them, stripping away the last vestige of her spirit.

Ah!!

An Ruohuan screamed again, her body lurching forward in an attempt to escape, but her feet refused to move, sending her collapsing at Mo Han's feet. The flowerpot shattered under the impact, exposing fleshy roots within, blood gushing forth.

"So, let me ask you again—has Uncle Mo been good to you?"

"Yes, yes! Uncle Mo is the best to An Ruohuan!" she answered immediately, her voice broken with sobs.

"Good girl, my precious." Mo Han stroked An Ruohuan's head with affection. The touch sent uncontrollable spasms through her entire body.

"There, look at you, so frightened. Uncle Mo didn't mean anything else, just... I'm thirsty."

With those words, and under An Ruohuan's bewildered gaze, Mo Han knelt down, inching closer to her.

"No, please, don't..." Though she didn't know what Mo Han intended, it couldn't be anything good—especially when he covered her eyes with his hand. Her body convulsed even more violently.

"Don't be afraid. It'll be over soon. When a person is scared, their blood flows fastest, and the taste is... most delicious." Mo Han spoke as he opened his mouth, revealing another set of jaws inside—almost identical in size, but with pure black flesh.

Each time Mo Han exerted force, An Ruohuan endured the agony and whimpered softly, unable to withstand such torment. Gradually, she felt numbness spreading through her lower body, her strength ebbing away.

She had no idea how much time had passed; her vision faded to a ghastly white, scenes dimming in dizziness, an overwhelming fatigue rising in her heart.

Beep, beep, beep...

While Mo Han feasted, the office's holographic projector suddenly lit up. Two police captains appeared in succession. The leader spoke urgently: "Director, the dangerous death-row inmate Mu You, whom you instructed us to monitor, has failed transformation. He has been overtaken by the Meridian Soulworm, lost his reason. The inmate's plan is ready. Shall we proceed?"

Mo Han continued drinking blood, ignoring them.

"Director?" Seeing Mo Han silent, the leader raised his voice. Mo Han did not rise, but stopped sucking. Before the officer could react, an irresistible pressure dissolved his projection into a shower of light, vanishing completely.

The same fate befell the officer’s real body. His aide was just about to hand him a report when he noticed the officer unresponsive. Looking up, he saw the officer had stopped breathing and collapsed rigidly...

The other police captain in the hologram witnessed this and was thankful he hadn’t spoken out. He kept his head low, awaiting orders.

At last, Mo Han released the motionless beauty. His blood-stained mouth leaned close to An Ruohuan’s barely-breathing face, and his speech doubled, two voices overlapping.

"Good girl. This time you know not to interrupt Uncle Mo. Anyone who interrupts me deserves to die..."

With that, Mo Han returned to normal, stood up, and opened the structural projection of the Deathrow Playground. The cursor flickered over a complex layout—surprisingly, the underground structures were far grander than those above. Mo Han’s office was at the pinnacle of the subterranean complex, barely meters below the epicenter of the Red Lotus explosion. Just a little further, and the underground organization would have been exposed to the world.

"Let them make trouble. These freefolk are getting more unruly by the day. Good—when the time comes, I’ll make them cough up everything with interest... But..."

Mo Han tapped a rapidly moving light on the screen. The image zoomed in until Mu You's rampage was clearly visible.

"Who would have thought that Original Sin would give this kid a Soulworm of that level? They value him so highly? Well, I’m curious to see how far he’ll go..."

Seeing Mu You’s half-inhuman face, Mo Han murmured with even greater satisfaction.

"I bet he’ll end up... a Fauxman."

Hearing the word "Fauxman," An Ruohuan was seized by infinite sorrow. A failed transformation meant the death-row prisoner, if not dead, would become a Fauxman—used by the Deathrow Playground for all manner of inhumane medical experiments and other unfathomable purposes.

Her own transformation was one such experiment.

……

As ‘Mu You’ soared into the sky, the Red Lotus beneath him suddenly erupted in dazzling flames, the explosion making it even more brilliant. The firelight rose, illuminating everything around as bright as day.

Almost all the freefolk were engulfed by the sea of fire.

‘Mu You’ seemed to have performed a trivial act, his cold and sinister gaze surveying the entire Deathrow Playground from above. Suddenly, atop the bat-winged structure, he spotted two exceedingly faint lights—one a gentle white glow, the other a metallic gleam, starkly different in style.

‘Mu You’ smiled, as if eyeing prey already in his grasp, and dashed toward them with explosive speed.

At this moment, a handful of freefolk and death-row inmates had discovered this secret, but the freefolk were clearly faster. One side was easily dealt with, but those climbing toward the metallic gleam wore expressions full of malice.

"Old Wang, they say if you get the Angel Mask, you can wish for anything up to ten billion from the Playground. I’m letting you have this shot—you owe me! When I grab the Demon Mask, don’t let those death-row dogs below get their wish... Hey, hurry up! Not even fifty and already hollowed out? Move it, let’s take a picture together when we grab them!"

The fastest freefolk was now only a meter from the Demon Mask. He paid no mind to the angry roars of the death-row inmates below, purposely taunting them as he reached out, but refused to take the mask.

"You taking that mask is useless, but for us, it’s a second chance at life! Can’t you spare us?"

"Yeah, please, do you know what a hundred thousand points means to us?!"

As the death-row inmates accelerated below, the freefolk’s smile grew broader. He gently stroked the mask but refused to take it.

"Not for you. Filthy animals—how dare you bargain with me."

With that, he raised his water gun filled with concentrated sulfuric acid and sprayed those who dared shout at him.

The hands gripping the steel pipe were instantly corroded to bare bone, the inmates howling as they tumbled from the ten-thousand-meter height.

The freefolk acted as though nothing had happened, again urging, "Hey, Old Wang, are you there yet?"

He turned as he spoke, only to find Old Wang staring at him from up close, startling him so badly he nearly fell.

"Damn you, Old Wang, scared me to death! How did you get across these seven or eight meters on each side? Old Wang? Say something!"

Now the freefolk began to sense something was wrong. Old Wang’s body seemed bulkier, and on his left back was a dazzling blood-crystal wing.

"Old Wang? That outfit is stylish—where did you get it... Wait, are you... Old Wang?!"

"Hehehe..."

An evil, playful laugh came from ‘Old Wang’s’ mouth. The freefolk immediately realized, this was not Old Wang’s voice.

"I’m not your neighbor Old Wang. My name is Mu You!"

The voice declared.