Chapter 158: Mismatched Stops

Chapter 158: Mismatched Stops

From the moment Tojo Shuang instructed everyone to announce their station numbers, Ming Yiyang sensed that something was amiss.

Initially, he assumed that all the "Ticket Holders" had been gathered in this world. However, when he realized that these people had no concept of being "Ticket Holders," doubts began to surface.

Yan Qiling's behavior essentially handed him the answer directly.

Yet, at that time, he wasn't entirely certain if these individuals were truly "people" or constructs deliberately fabricated by the Ruler of the Abyss for a specific purpose.

Looking at Tojo Shuang, who had collapsed on his knees in shock, and Guan Zhiyi, who clutched his head while sobbing uncontrollably, Ming Yiyang found himself at a loss for words.

Yes, these "people" were already dead. According to their destinies, they perished in the previous cycle. They had become part of this world, manipulated by the will of the Ruler of the Abyss, existing as some kind of "puppet" with residual consciousness.

Their existence was no different from the falling snowflakes in the sky or the evergreen spruces in the forest.

Untouched by external interference, they would cycle through this world, dying and rebirth, over and over again. Perhaps they had all ridden that bus buried in snow hundreds or even thousands of times. Each time they died, their memories were erased, only to begin anew.

But how could one, as a participant, adjust and calmly accept the fact that they had "died"?

They were still vividly alive here!

"I'll try again... no matter what..."

Guan Zhiyi rose steadily and spoke to Ming Yiyang,

"I want to go out. Tell me where the exit is, even if... the cycle of reincarnation is true, I still want to try and escape."

Ming Yiyang pressed his lips together, cautioning them,

"If you leave, you might be torn apart by the monsters outside immediately."

"It's alright,"

Guan Zhiyi forced a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I'm already dead anyway. Dying again wouldn't make much of a difference."

"That's alright."

-

The path, composed of marble and mosaics, wasn't too distant.

It meandered towards a small, blue-and-white painted villa with a distinct federal style, which, based on the Georgian style, made the house appear brighter and more open.

Bathed in radiant sunshine, Yan Qiling gazed at the villa, yet felt as if he was approaching the hidden depths within his heart.

This depth had accompanied him for far too long, to the point where he had grown completely accustomed to the darkness constantly surging within him.

Despite the fear he once felt, despite how he used to avoid it.

He always remembered his father's words.

"When you hear a terrifying sound, if you bravely confront it, you won't hear it anymore."

Yes, they're merely phantoms and demons.

What could be more terrifying than the human heart?

He wasn't so composed when it came to betrayal or oppression at first.

No ordinary person would become accustomed to such matters.

It's only through numerous experiences that one can cultivate such equanimity.

Thus, he had become more tolerant and appreciative of the genuine aspects of life in the mortal world.

By now, he had grown weary of the deceit, intimidation, violence, and bloody battles.

He stood before the grand Western-style mansion.

The iron gate was already open for him, and the palm-wood door on the circular staircase beckoned him with a slight crack, as if enticing him inside.

The light behind the door seemed to have passed through gauze, gently caressing the steps like a beautiful dream, imbued with a pale yellow patina of nostalgia.

The play of light and shadow accentuated the stark contrast on Yan Qiling's face.

The rays were blocked by the deep contours of his eyes, diving into the shadows to cast a faint gray veil over his two distinct irises.

He stepped through the iron gate and pushed open the slightly ajar palm-framed door, entering the foyer that had been intentionally designed to be lofty.

The foyer was brief, and instead of leading to a living room, it opened up to the Situlanaya Dining Room with its long, dark brown table as the centerpiece.

To the left of the dining area, a bar counter adorned the wall, accompanied by an entire glass display cabinet.

An array of colorful wines from different countries filled the shelves, exuding opulence alongside a profound love for fine beverages.

This bar counter served multiple purposes.

At this moment, a dapper gentleman in a suit was humming a tune as he delicately trimmed the stems of poppies in his hand, arranging them in a vase filled with water.

The captivating afternoon sunlight streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the living room, casting a vintage glow upon all the furniture in the Situlanaya Dining Room.

The gentleman seemed to sense something and glanced toward the entrance bathed in light, pushing up the monocle on his right eye with his index finger, revealing a warm and courteous demeanor.

"My little Jonquil, you've arrived."

"I don't appreciate that nickname, Zhan Deshi."

Yan Qiling pulled out a chair at Syltoria Restaurant with a composed attitude, sat down, and looked at him not with the eyes of an enemy but rather as if he were gazing at a long-lost stranger.

"Are you now working for Paimon, just like Source Palace?"

"Don't compare me with him."

Zhan Deshi moved the vase to its proper place and bent down to retrieve coffee-making utensils from a cabinet.

"Would you like some, Yan?"

"Triple espresso, please."

Yan Qiling said this, still keeping his gaze fixed on him.

"How peculiar. I thought you two would be busy trying to eliminate me. Yet Yuan Gong Baiyu wants to play a game of reincarnation with me, and you're offering me coffee. You seem to have an abundance of time on your hands, as if it's endless..."

"However, Yuan Gong Baiyu is reaching his limits. After he's gone, wouldn't it fall upon you to sustain the Prison Train?"

Zhan Deshi chuckled softly.

"Who knows? Perhaps Paimon might step in personally."

Yan Qiling caught the hidden meaning and raised his slender phoenix eyes slightly, eyeing the man who had just finished brewing the coffee.

"Do you intend to insert Paimon into the equation?"

"Why not?"

Zhan Deshi poured two cups, placing one in front of Yan Qiling. His gray-blue eyes calmly gazed at him, while his neatly styled brown curls complemented his tidy casual attire.

He sipped his coffee effortlessly, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"Not everyone is as helpless as Yuan Gong. At this moment, Paimon can choose me, but I can choose not to choose him. Yan, you know my worth."

Yan Qiling was unsure of what value the other party held now, but he understood the man's character all too well.

He sipped his coffee thoughtfully.

But soon, his expression changed:

"Opium wine?"

No sooner had he spoken than he burst into a blue flame, interwoven with white threads!

Zhan Deshi remained still, watching the dancing flames before him and letting out a soft sigh:

"At any time, I would never wish pain upon you, Yan. No one knows better than I how to love you... Among them, I am undoubtedly the most merciful."

The torch swiftly consumed everything except for the silk clothing. Paimon, wearing an iron mask, suddenly appeared in the Citulanaya Restaurant without any prior indication.

"The opium wine had such a great effect on him? Seems like the shadow you left in him back then was considerable, huh."

A hint of sorrow could be seen on Zhan Deshi's face.

"I merely offered him an option to evade suffering. The time at the Azure Swallow Pavilion has been too long for him."

"You've worked hard, but... it's time for you to make a sacrifice for this world."

Paimon pulled out a rusted, serrated knife, revealing a row of exquisite white shark teeth.

"Zhan Deshi, don't refuse me. This is beneficial for both of us. As long as I'm alive, there's still a chance for you to survive. The Origin Palace can't hold on much longer."

Zhan Deshi turned to look at him, loosening the silk scarf tied around his collar with a cold gaze.

"Is that so?"

In the blink of an eye, after a brief clash, Zhan Deshi leaped to the other side of the dining table.

He released his grip, and the black umbrella he had seemingly conjured out of nowhere now crumbled into metal fragments and floating cloth, falling from his hand in a shower.

The disparity in their strength caused his eyes to widen slightly.

But that was not all. At that moment, a soft click sounded from his single-lens eyepiece, and a crack appeared at the edge of the lens.

Paimon bared his shark-like teeth behind the iron mask, and though his face was indistinct, his skin had already flushed with a telltale excitement.

The thrill of slaughter was unleashed after their clash, fueling Paimon's surging battle intent.

With his index and middle fingers, Zhan Deshi traced the shattered glass of his glasses, which promptly mended as good as new.

Frustration and unconscious regret flickered in his eyes.

He shouldn't have let Yan vanish so hastily. At the very least, he should have waited until Yan and Paimon were evenly matched before making his move – that would have maximized his advantage.

But now that Yan had fallen, it was too late for any regrets.

After their successive exchanges, Zhan Deshi's umbrella lay shattered all around him. Just as he conjured another black umbrella, Paimon's serrated blade was once again inches from his face!

He struggled to cope.

Yet, Paimon toyed with him like a cat with a mouse, applying pressure without haste to deliver the final blow, cackling maniacally,

"Get up, Zhan Deshi! Keep going!"

He reveled in the thrill of combat, savoring it and drawing strength from his adversaries.

Zhan Deshi gasped for air, gritting his teeth as he repaired his lens once more.

Paimon chuckled, gazing at his right eye mischievously, "Didn't you devour Yan's eyes? How pathetic that losing one has left you so disheveled. I wonder, if this lens were to shatter, would you still be able to see...?"

Zhan Deshi shot a cold glare at Paimon, "Don't joke around. As long as I'm here, you won't destroy it."

"Do you have a choice?"

Paimon shrugged nonchalantly, "Yan is gone. With only yourself, why do you think you stand a chance? Don't blame me, Zhan Deshi. Blame... your naivety, and your weakness."

He bared his sharp shark-like teeth, raised his serrated blade high, and leaped, aiming to cleave Zhan Deshi in two from above!

Zhan Deshi could only manage to raise the black umbrella in his hand, but he had no hope of deflecting the impending attack.

Yet, at that moment, he heard a familiar voice, close and intimate, like a lover's whisper:

"Work with me, Zhan Deshi, and I can shield you from this blow."

Zhan Deshi felt a surge of emotions he hadn't experienced in a long time.

It was Yan Qiling's voice!!!