Chapter Fifty: Entrapment!

Driver Lao Chang climbed off the plump female technician. His ears perked up, and beneath his sunglasses, his eyes abruptly gleamed with sharp light.

“It’s time to move.”

Lao Chang quickly put on his trousers. The woman lying on the bed looked at him languidly. “Is it over already?”

Lao Chang cast her a silent glance. Then he walked to her side and, with a precise chop of his hand, struck her neck.

Her eyes rolled back and she fainted instantly. The last thought in her mind before losing consciousness was, “He hasn’t paid yet!”

Lao Chang had learned many manners from his master; he would never put on his pants and leave without paying. He took a wad of cash, placed it beside the woman—still dressed in her chauffeur’s uniform—and his face softened.

“Miss, believe in love. Lao Chang will ask for you again next time.”

After that, Lao Chang rolled his neck, took off his sunglasses, and covered one eye.

In an instant, an eyeball shot out like a burst of liquid, splattering onto the wall. That blob of liquid, as if alive, began to crawl rapidly along the wall, slipping through the door crack and down the corridor.

With his eyeball, Lao Chang saw Technician Number 18 standing guard outside, but she seemed completely unaware of his intent.

His eye continued to slither like a pool of water, squeezing through another door crack and into the room.

…

One minute earlier.

The male manager closed the door, his face full of wicked delight and excitement. He licked his lips repeatedly, his whole body trembling with anticipation.

He turned around and looked at Du Fang, who sat quietly on the sofa.

That handsome face, that youthful body, that vibrant aura…

A flush crept across the manager’s cheeks, every cell in his body roaring with desire.

Du Fang’s physical presence exuded an irresistible pull. The feeling was as if a moth in the night had glimpsed a dazzling burst of fireworks—so blinding, so radiant, so impossible to resist.

Du Fang gazed calmly at the manager.

At that moment, even Du Fang could clearly sense the manager’s abnormality. Without any warning from Luo Luo, Du Fang’s dream spirit detected the greed, excitement, and murderous intent radiating from the man.

This manager… he actually wants to kill me?

He’s definitely not human!

At that instant, Du Fang felt an unshakeable faith in Luo Luo.

“Young man, why did you choose me?” the manager asked, tilting his head with a smile.

He took off his suit jacket, revealing a white shirt beneath, and began unbuttoning it, one button at a time.

But as he undid the buttons, the air thickened with oppressive dream spirit pressure. A viscous, bloody stench, like the foul odor oozing from a rotting corpse, began to fill the room.

The manager finally stripped off his shirt, exposing his body. Thick, red, swollen veins writhed across his skin, as if earthworms were crawling beneath the surface.

Whoosh—whoosh—whoosh!

One after another, blood-red veins burst through the flesh of his back, whipping through the air like worms in water.

“Don’t worry, I’ll end your suffering quickly,” the manager said with a smile. “Originally, your elders arranged for you to meet Technician 18. Perhaps they realized she wasn’t human and intended to give you a little training.”

“But you didn’t choose her. Instead, you picked me. Maybe… this is fate.”

The manager’s voice was gentle, but gradually, he sensed something amiss.

Du Fang sat calmly on the sofa, his expression tranquil as water, showing no surprise, fear, or despair at the manager’s revelation.

“You’re not afraid?” the manager asked, head tilted.

Du Fang mimicked his gesture, tilting his own head. “Why should I be afraid?”

“Why aren’t you afraid?” the manager pressed, confused.

Du Fang truly felt no fear. The manager now looked monstrous, terrifying, his veins squirming and features twisted. The oppressive dream spirit pressure in the air was overwhelming.

Under normal circumstances, Du Fang should have been terrified. Yet, inexplicably, there was no trace of fear in his heart.

Just as nightmares always became pleasant dreams for him, so too in reality, his fear simply would not surface.

“You’re pretending to be calm. You must be pretending,” the manager sneered.

He could sense Du Fang’s strength—or so he thought. In truth, he knew Technician 18 was weak, just a minor dream fiend who had escaped from a third-tier nightmare, barely equal to a novice Dreamwalker.

That’s why Zhang Changlin had trusted her to Du Fang for practical training.

But Zhang Changlin could not have predicted that this manager—despite his unassuming appearance—was in fact terrifyingly powerful. He had escaped from a seventh-tier nightmare: a high-class dream fiend.

He had been searching for a suitable vessel, and now Du Fang had delivered himself right to his door—a young, vibrant, handsome Dreamwalker, the perfect body.

“Young man, you ought to show some fear. That way, your body’s scent will become even more enticing,” the manager grinned.

Dream fiends, after all, were nightmare entities that fed on emotion to increase their strength.

Du Fang, tiring of the head-tilting, frowned and glanced at Luo Luo beside him.

“Luo Luo, tell me, why should Daddy be afraid?” he asked.

Luo Luo tilted her innocent, delicate face and shook her head. “Luo Luo doesn’t understand.”

Across the room, the manager paused, watching Du Fang converse with empty air.

“What are you playing at?” the manager’s brow furrowed, irritation growing.

Not only was this boy unafraid, but now he was acting strange—was he trying to stall for time, waiting for Dreamwalker Zhang to rescue him?

“Too late for that!”

In the next instant, the manager’s blood-red veins shot through the air toward Du Fang, intending to ensnare him and savor his agony at leisure.

The veins tore through the air with a hiss, like a thousand arrows loosed at once.

Du Fang felt a slight pressure, but he remembered Captain Zhang’s instructions: he was here at the bathhouse for close-combat training.

He stopped Luo Luo from intervening, seizing the opportunity for practice. With a thought, he summoned his aunt’s playing cards into his hand.

Dream spirit surged into them, and two shadowy figures—his aunts—appeared at his back.

Cards shot from Du Fang’s hand, colliding with the manager’s blood-red veins.

Sparks seemed to burst in the darkness, and the clash rang out like wind chimes.

The force drove Du Fang, still seated on the sofa, several meters back, slamming him into the wall.

But he had blocked the attack.

The manager froze, crazed eyes full of disbelief.

Du Fang, who seemed so weak in dream spirit, had withstood the assault of a high-class dream fiend?

Impossible.

Sweat beaded on Du Fang’s brow as he felt his dream spirit draining rapidly. This dream fiend was not easy to spar with.

He raised his hand, placing a blue-glowing tea leaf—his aunt’s gift—on his tongue.

As he held it in his mouth, he felt his depleted dream spirit surge anew, revitalizing his exhausted body.

“Darling, lend me your strength.”

Du Fang had no desire for a fair fight or the thrill of meeting an equal opponent. The enemy was a ruthless dream fiend—he would use every trump card at his disposal.

The hand of his wife, quietly resting on his shoulder, suddenly sprang to life, crawling like a spider across his back and locking on tight.

A series of cracks echoed as Du Fang’s bones contorted to an inhuman degree, as if he were stretching after a long sleep.

With a thunderous bang, Du Fang stomped down, shattering the sofa beneath him.

Springing forward like a coiled spring, he appeared before the manager, giving him no chance to react.

Fist.

Elbow.

Knuckles.

Knee.

Whip-like blows.

Blows rained down on the manager in a storm of martial skill.

His body was battered like a sack of rags, blood spurting from his mouth, bones shattering, until finally he crashed against the wall, leaving a bloody, miserable mess.

“What kind of monster is this? Are you telling me… this is just a novice Dreamwalker?”

Du Fang’s fist whistled through the air, tearing the silence as it arced toward the manager’s face.

Terrified, the manager abandoned his human vessel without hesitation.

Bang!

Du Fang’s punch landed squarely on the manager’s chest, blasting through to the wall and leaving a massive crater, dust and blood showering down.

The dream spirit in the room suddenly boiled over, as if erupting.

A blood-red shadow burst from the manager’s body—his true form, the dream fiend.

When a dream fiend manifested its true self, it meant it had gone mad and had no choice but to fight to the death.

Yet the moment the manager’s true self appeared and the dream spirit surged, the rage vanished, the ferocity froze, and terror spread like a web, infinite and overwhelming.

Because, as soon as the fiend revealed itself, the room—once occupied only by Du Fang and the manager—became crowded and oppressive.

A little girl.

A pink pig.

A bloody hand.

Nameless horrors filled every corner.

For nearly three seconds, the atmosphere was frozen.

Then, without hesitation, the blood-red dream fiend lunged for the door, trying to escape through the wall.

But a dreadful, ineffable dream spirit pressure descended, sealing every window and door.

The dream fiend panicked, howling like a helpless girl being stalked at midnight, pounding on the door with all its might.

“Let me out… let me out…”

Only now did the fiend realize that Du Fang had truly never feared him. The one who should have been afraid was himself.

At last, the manager’s dream fiend understood: Blackface Zhang was just a pawn—Du Fang was the true terror.

This man was fishing for lawbreakers.

The reversal had come as quickly as a tornado.

The shrieking, blood-red fiend could summon no will to resist.

“Daddy, do you want more practice?” Luo Luo tilted her head, her childish voice sweet.

Du Fang pulled his blood-soaked hand free and, gazing at the terrified blood shadow, shook his head with boredom. “Qiqi, clean him up.”

The pink pig toy, drooling with excitement, began to approach the dream fiend, growing larger with every step until it became a massive boar, looming over the quivering little nightmare.

The dream fiend was utterly desperate, helpless.

In the background, Luo Luo clapped her hands with a smile. The giant pig, mouth watering, opened its jaws wide and intoned in a deep voice,

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Qi—no, Qiqi will send you on your way. Moo-oo.”

And then, in one gulp, it swallowed the fiend whole.

PS: Please vote for recommendations and monthly tickets!