Ch. 365 - Do the Weak Deserve to Die?

Wen Jinglong’s wild stare fixed on Fang Xiu, but as he took a step, a flash of doubt—and yeah, some fear—crossed his eyes.

Fang Xiu had wrecked him too many times, too hard.

Beatings in the Land Between, more in the Zhou's Mansion—he was scarred deep now. He even wondered: Why isn’t Fang Xiu bolting? The guy just stood there, cool and cocky, like the blood handprint was nothing.

Taking him on now? That’d be like tossing a lit match in a porta-potty—begging for a nasty blowup.

But the others had split, and with his busted leg, he couldn’t catch them. Going for Fang Xiu might be his only play, even if it was a long shot.

That quick hesitation screwed him. The freaky bloodstain had already taken over most of his body, spreading down his arms and legs. Death’s icy hand hit him hard, and he lunged at Fang Xiu in a blind panic.

Then—CLANG!

He dropped to his knees.

Thud!

“Mr. Fang, save me!” he begged, voice breaking.

Fang Xiu looked him over, seeing straight through the act. “No surprise you hit fifth-tier in the Land Between. Even with death breathing down your neck, you’re still clawing for a way out. Let me guess—you’re pulling the pity card to throw me off, huh? Then, last second, when the blood’s about to finish you, you make your move. By then, even I couldn’t stop it. That the plan?”

Wen Jinglong kept up the desperate, scared look, shaking his head fast. “Sir, no way I’d try that! I’m begging for real—you’ve got a way to save me, don’t you?” His eyes blazed with a raw will to survive, like he meant it.

He got so into it, he started smashing his head on the ground, scooting closer to Fang Xiu with each wild bow.

Fang Xiu watched the show and smirked. “Nice try.”

Then he did something Wen Jinglong never expected.

SMACK!

A hard slap cracked across Wen’s face, sending him tumbling. He hit the ground, staring up at Fang Xiu, not pissed—just totally thrown. Because the instant Fang Xiu’s hand landed, the bloodstain jumped—right onto Fang Xiu.

“You… you…” Wen stuttered, too shocked to string words together. Why would Fang Xiu save him? No way it was just to smack him—nobody’s that reckless, not even in this chaos.

Fang Xiu’s grin turned sharp and wild. Then, under Wen’s stunned gaze, he moved like a blur, gone in a flash.

The air snapped as he took off, the wind from his speed forcing Wen’s eyes shut. When he could see again, a scream ripped through the distance.

He spun around. There, legs broken like sticks, was the first guy who’d been tagged—the original shoulder-tap victim—howling on the ground, bloodstain covering him top to bottom. Fang Xiu stood over him, chill as ever, just watching.

Obviously, Fang Xiu had raced over, snagged the guy before the blood could finish him, and passed the curse back.

Wen Jinglong staggered up, hobbling toward Fang Xiu, his face a mess of confusion. “You… why’d you save me?”

He couldn’t figure it out. Fang Xiu had clocked his fake begging—called it out flat—so why still pull him out of the mess?

Fang Xiu turned to Wen Jinglong, voice even. “Because you’re fifth-tier. He’s fourth-tier. You’re tougher, so you live.”

Wen’s face froze, any hint of thanks dying fast. His stomach dropped like he’d been dunked in cold water.

He got the message clear as day: fifth-tier Spiritual Energy beat fourth-tier, end of story. To Fang Xiu, they were all just fuel—and he wasn’t letting the good stuff go down the drain.

“Argh!!”

The guy with the snapped legs let out a scream that’d twist your guts, the bloodstain creeping over most of his face.

Writhing in pain, he looked like some creepy Specter crawling out of a scary movie. “Why?! Why?!”

His eyes blazed with hate and anger, one hand reaching for Fang Xiu, fingers brushing just shy of his pant leg.

But that tiny gap was a canyon he couldn’t cross. He’d been so close to skating by, letting Wen take the hit, only for Fang Xiu to flip it and dump the curse back on him. From safe to screwed in a flash.

“So… the weak have to die?!” he croaked, voice breaking with fury.

Fang Xiu nodded, chill as ever. “Yeah.”

“You—!” The guy’s whole body jerked, shocked. He’d made it years in the Land Between, thought he’d come to terms with the eat-or-be-eaten life. But now? Facing being the one eaten, not the eater—he couldn’t handle it.

Right then, the bloodstain covered him completely, turning him into a dripping red outline. His body started melting like ice cream in the heat, breaking down into a bloody puddle.

The mess shook, then pulled together—forming a new blood handprint.

Wen Jinglong’s face went pale as a sheet. He took off, legs pumping hard despite the limp.

Fang Xiu wasn’t sticking around to play savior either. He vanished in a blur, gone like a ghost in a split second.

And just like that, they had one more Specter on their tail.

Fang Xiu caught up with the group quick, only to see them pinned. Two Shadow Killers had popped in out of nowhere, blocking their way. Looked like the damn things could sniff out a crowd.

“Son of a—! These Specters are like rabid mutts!” Yang Ming gasped, wiping sweat off his face. Dodging nonstop was wearing him out.

“We can’t keep this up,” someone else said. “No Spiritual Energy, just plain stamina—we’re no match. They’ll grind us down eventually!”

“Yeah, and if one steps on a shadow, we’ll be swamped with Shadow Killers. We need an exit, now!”

“Xiu! Xiu’s here!” Xiao Chuxia yelled, her voice bright with hope.

All eyes swung to Fang Xiu. But that hope soured fast when they saw what was chasing him—two blood handprints, floating like they were riding some unseen wave, heading straight for them.

Panic broke loose. The group split, dodging like crazy.

“Follow me,” Fang Xiu said, calm and steady.

He took off, slipping into a narrow hallway on the left.

The others hustled after him, but the tight space meant it wasn’t a free run. Some pushed ahead; others fell back.

The ones at the rear got the raw deal.

Shadow Killers might teleport, but they moved slow most of the time. The blood handprints, though? Those things were quick—locking onto the last guy in line with killer aim. A wet smack hit his shoulder.

The poor guy’s face fell like his world just ended. He bolted after the group, running for his life.

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