Chapter 118
Chapter 118
In the underground limestone cave, Huodou lay in the center, the flames burning over its body serving as their campfire.
There were many cracks overhead in the cavern, so they did not have to worry about running out of oxygen.
Han Lie sat cross-legged beside Huodou, eating the food Qin Ying had brought in her backpack.
Qin Ying had not known how long they would be trapped, so what she had packed were all solid, filling things like beef jerky and compressed biscuits.
The stuff was dry and rough, but Han Lie did not mind at all. Crunch, crunch-he gnawed through all of it.
Fuzhu lay sideways across Qin Ying’s lap, a shred of beef jerky dangling from its mouth.
Qin Ying was drying Zhang Lang’s Black Trench Coat by the fire.
Her gaze moved between Han Lie, who was still maintaining his towering size, and Fuzhu, who had already shrunk back down.
Their sudden increase in size had been caused by Zheng’s serum.
The difference was that Han Lie had come into contact with more of the serum, while Fuzhu had gotten less.
If mere skin contact could maintain that size for close to three days, then what if they tried injecting it…
Qin Ying looked at Han Lie, who was gnawing on a compressed biscuit behind the campfire, and temporarily dismissed the idea.
Better to wait until Han Lie regained his intelligence and have him take the serum into the Box.
They could see whether the World in the Box, which was more familiar with Monstrous Beast, could break down its components.
She lowered her eyes again to the trench coat she had gotten off Zhang Lang.
This coat could conceal abnormal transformation, so it probably was not made of ordinary material.
Qin Ying searched through it, and sure enough, she felt a thin layer of hide sewn into the lining.
No wonder Zhang Lang and Zong Li had been sweating like dogs wearing these lined trench coats in the middle of July.
She tore open the entire inner lining of the coat, revealing a patchwork hide of yellow and black.
The largest yellow section was calfskin. The black hide pieced into the center gave off a faint tingling sensation, like static electricity, when she touched it.
What kind of hide was this?
Before she could think further, Han Lie answered, “It’s Chimei skin.”
Qin Ying jerked her head up to look at him.
Han Lie sat cross-legged behind Huodou’s flames, looking enormous. His eyes were no longer as foolishly innocent as before; they seemed much clearer, much wiser.
“Chimei. The males are Chi, the females are Mei.”
“Their skin can take human form and confuse the mind.”
After saying that smoothly, he looked at Qin Ying with his gray, teardrop-shaped eyes.
“You’re back to normal?” Qin Ying asked.
The moment her words fell, the intelligent light in Han Lie’s eyes abruptly dimmed.
Then he foolishly lowered his head again and went back to gnawing on beef jerky.
Did his IQ have a loose connection too? Qin Ying sighed helplessly.
Her fingers brushed over the Chimei Skin, and she stood.
She stuffed Fuzhu, who was eating beef jerky on her lap, into her coat pocket.
Then she shook out the Black Trench Coat in her hands and tentatively draped it over Han Lie’s head.
Han Lie’s body visibly shrank before her eyes.
Zhang Lang was tall, with long arms and legs, so the trench coat was fairly roomy.
The figure beneath the coat seemed to have more or less returned to a normal size.
When Qin Ying tilted her head to look, Han Lie, under the trench coat, happened to grab the edge and lift his face.
Qin Ying’s gaze crashed, completely unprepared, into a pair of eyes rimmed in pale gray.
The face before her had sharp brows, bright eyes, a high nose, and clean, decisive contours.
The first time she had seen Han Lie inside the Box, she had already known this kid was very handsome.
But back then, he had been travel-worn and still had a short beard.
This time, that stubble had been burned away by fire, and the new skin on his face was fair and clean. That wild-looking face appeared before her without warning.
Qin Ying could not help taking a wary half step back.
This wariness was purely Qin Ying’s bad habit of instinctively protecting herself.
Han Lie showed a wounded expression, then slowly pulled the trench coat higher and hid his face behind it.
The trench coat only had so much fabric. Covering one end meant leaving the other exposed.
Once his head was hidden, below…
Qin Ying’s gaze, entirely by accident, swept over a firm chest and defined abs…
“Ahem.”
She swore she really had not looked on purpose.
Even as Qin Ying reeled inwardly, she quickly averted her eyes and forced herself to be a decent, respectable human being.
“I’m not disgusted by your looks. Put your clothes on properly.”
Han Lie hurriedly grabbed the trench coat and pulled it on.
Qin Ying turned her back and waited for him to get dressed.
After a long moment, someone gently tugged at the sleeve of her hoodie.
Qin Ying turned around, took one look, squeezed her eyes shut, and hastily twisted her neck back again. “What are you doing? Zip it up!”
If not for that handsome face, wearing a trench coat over nothing and leaving the front wide open would make him a textbook flasher.
Han Lie stood there helplessly. What was a zipper? He had no idea.
In the end, with no other choice, Qin Ying cursed under her breath and turned around to dress him herself.
Her gaze fixed on his two slabs of pectoral muscle, and she muttered, “I’ll just take it as Ghost Festival holiday benefits.”
Zhang Lang was thin as a beanpole, so his trench coat stretched tight over Han Lie’s shoulders and didn’t really fit.
But at least he looked more or less like a normal person now, and he no longer had to run around naked.
“Lower your head.”
Since she had already come this far, Qin Ying beckoned for him to bend down and used her hands to smooth out his messy hair.
His upper body finally looked presentable. His bare feet were still a little strange, though.
Qin Ying checked the time. Right now should be when the smoke in the city was at its thickest.
She said to Han Lie, “Let’s go. Don’t talk on the way. Stay close behind me.”
Huodou had long since lost any desire to stay in this damp place and got to its feet.
Han Lie nodded obediently and picked up the backpack on the ground that held the food and medicine.
He walked over to Qin Ying and crouched down in front of her.
The ground here was cold, wet, and slippery; he wanted to carry Qin Ying on his back.
His mouth opened, but then he remembered Qin Ying had told him not to speak, so he swallowed the words back down.
Realizing what he meant, Qin Ying froze for a moment.
She patted Han Lie’s broad shoulder. “No need. Let’s go.”
Only after seeing that she was unwilling did Han Lie rise to his feet, still keeping close to guard her on either side.
Qin Ying had moved with extreme caution on the way in, but on the way back, she was noticeably faster.
In just over twenty minutes, they returned to the long stairway at the entrance.
Standing there, the flames on Huodou dimmed, and it impatiently changed back into the form of a tiny milk puppy.
It raised its head, waiting to be held.
Han Lie scooped it up in one motion and placed it steadily on his shoulder.
Qin Ying reached into her pocket to confirm that Fuzhu was still there, then turned on her phone’s flashlight and climbed the stairs step by step.
The rear hall of the City God Temple was still as pitch-black as before.
Qin Ying pushed the door back until it was left ajar the way it had been before she opened it, then checked the floor.
This rear hall was cleaned often, so there was no dust to leave footprints in.
Satisfied, she led Han Lie toward the central courtyard, preparing to climb back out the way they had come.
But the moment they entered the courtyard, a muffled sob suddenly came from somewhere.
Qin Ying jolted all over. Han Lie spread his arms to block her, his eyes turning toward the front hall.
The crying was coming from there.
Qin Ying understood at once. Someone was in the front hall, petitioning the City God with a grievance against the dead and the hidden guilty.
To make such a petition, one had to perform three full bows and nine kowtows, then crawl up the long steps in front of the City God Temple.
You could bash your head bloody and give yourself a concussion, and the wicked would still go on doing whatever they liked.
Troublesome, and not very useful. These days, most people didn’t believe in it anymore.
With that much time and effort, most would choose to call the police or find some other way.
Someone who came on Ghost Festival to lodge such a complaint most likely had some hidden reason.
Qin Ying hesitated, torn between leaving and staying to listen.
In that brief moment of hesitation, she heard the person in the front hall crying out in accusation: “I don’t dare call the police. I don’t dare tell anyone.”
“Otherwise, Huang Jun will post those photos he took online.”
“He beats me every day. He’s a beast.”
“A beast who deserves to go to hell!”
The woman’s hoarse voice, strained to the breaking point, echoed through the empty hall.
Huang Jun.
Qin Ying’s steps came to an abrupt halt.