Die, Replay, Repeat

Wei Xin's entire body was trapped by Taotie's enormous hand, leaving only his head exposed. His eyes were wide with terror as he stared at Yang Ming.

His voice trembled as he begged, "N-No… don't come any closer!"

Yang Ming said nothing. His expression remained cold and emotionless as he steadily closed the distance between them, his gaze fixed and unyielding.

Wei Xin's voice shook with fear, "It's not my fault! It's her..."

BANG! Yang Ming's fist crashed into Wei Xin's face with a sickening crack. His nose shattered, and blood poured from the wound. The pain was intense, a brutal reminder of his mortality—or perhaps the lack of it.

"You bastard…" Yang Ming muttered, inspecting his bloodstained knuckles.

Another punch landed, and Wei Xin's teeth flew across the room. His body didn't react to the damage, though.

As a zombie, his wounds began healing almost instantly, visibly regenerating before their eyes.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Yang Ming's punches came faster and harder now, each one landing with relentless force. His expression remained unchanged as he continued to hammer Wei Xin's face, over and over again.

Wei Xin's face was rapidly becoming unrecognizable, blood streaming from every cut. "Just kill me!" he screamed, his voice breaking with desperation. He nearly wished for death—anything to stop the endless beating.

But Yang Ming didn't stop. Punch after punch, the assault showed no sign of letting up.

Soon, Wei Xin's teeth were completely gone, his nose caved in, and one of his eyeballs had been shattered. Even his skull cracked under the pressure, yet still, he didn't die.

Yang Ming kept going. For a full minute, he pummeled Wei Xin, each blow adding to the destruction.

At least a thousand punches landed in that time, as if Yang Ming's only goal was to reduce Wei Xin to nothing but pulp.

But still, he didn't stop.

Li Xiaoru's voice cut through the chaos. "Yang Ming, enough!"

Xiong Tianguang quickly added, "Yeah, that's enough. We need to go."

The group watched in concern, fearing that Yang Ming might lose control of his Spiritual Energy. The Grey Fog surrounding them had thickened, and the Specters were closing in. It was becoming too dangerous to stay.

But Yang Ming was oblivious, as if he were a machine, his fists continuing to strike without mercy.

Then, a hand landed on his shoulder.

Yang Ming paused, turning to see Fang Xiu standing behind him. His tall, lean figure cast a shadow over Yang Ming, but the cold, indifferent look in his eyes still shone clearly.

"Xiu…" Yang Ming rasped, his voice hoarse from exertion. "No need to try to stop me. You all go ahead. I'm not finished."

Fang Xiu's voice was calm, almost eerily so. "Step aside. It's my turn now."

Yang Ming blinked, staring at Fang Xiu for a long moment.

One second. Two. Three. 

Finally, he slowly stood and stepped back, giving Fang Xiu room.

In the brief time that had passed, Wei Xin's mangled head was starting to regenerate, the bones and tissue knitting themselves back together.

Clearly, he had given up any hope of survival, now trying to provoke the group in a desperate attempt to end it all quickly.

His voice oozed venom as he spat, "Heh… you're all just a bunch of hypocrites. You think this woman is pitiful, but that's because you've never lived in the Land Between. If you'd gone through what I did, you'd understand—everything I did, I did to survive."

Yang Ming's blood boiled at the words. He snapped, "You think survival means treating other people like toys? Did she ever stand in your way?!"

A twisted, grotesque smile spread across Wei Xin's ruined face. "No… she didn't stop me from living. But she could make my life better."

Yang Ming's murderous intent flared up in an instant. Just as he moved forward, Fang Xiu gently placed a hand on his shoulder, halting him.

Fang Xiu then crouched down, his calm eyes locking onto Wei Xin's twisted face, bloodied and contorted in agony.

Wei Xin seemed to understand what was about to happen. He let out a cruel laugh, "Just a bunch of soft-hearted fools who've never known real suffering.

"You think this woman's death is tragic? Wait until you've spent years in the Land Between, felt the kind of pain I endured. Then you'll understand—justice, morality... it's all a joke. Death of a woman like her? It means less to me than breakfast tomorrow."

Fang Xiu's voice, cool and even, sliced through Wei Xin's words. "With your level of understanding of the world, you must've gone through a lot of pain."

Wei Xin snarled, a wider grin spreading across his face. "What? You want to torture me? You're here for some pathetic woman's revenge? Fine. Try me. See if I'd even let out a groan."

Fang Xiu simply shook his head. "I'm not interested in revenge. I'm just here for a little... amusement."

Before Wei Xin could react, Fang Xiu's long fingers gripped the Scalpel, and with smooth, almost delicate precision, he made a small cut across Wei Xin's face.

As he did, he poured into the wound the agony and torment the woman had endured for years.

In an instant, the weight of her suffering—her abuse, her despair—flooded Wei Xin's mind, crashing over him like an overwhelming tide.

"ARGH!" A shrill, unnatural scream tore from his throat, echoing through the air with a ferocity that sent chills down their spines. It was so bone-chilling it could freeze the blood.

For a brief moment, Wei Xin's zombie-like face seemed to come alive. His veins bulging, his eyes nearly popping out of their sockets, as if they might burst from the sheer force of his pain.

Fang Xiu's brow furrowed slightly. "Is this it? After all your suffering in the Land Between, this is the best you can bring me? This is the joy I get from you?"

"W-What... what did you do to me?!" Wei Xin gasped, his voice raw with agony.

Fang Xiu's response was cold and indifferent. "I just wanted you to experience someone else's pain."

Swish! Another quick slash of the Scalpel, and Fang Xiu added even more suffering to Wei Xin's already overwhelmed mind.

In that brief instant, Wei Xin experienced dozens of different kinds of death, each one more horrific than the last, each one sharper than any blade.

His voice trembled, barely a whisper as the agony consumed him. "AH!!!! Please… please, just kill me! End it...!"

Fang Xiu remained unmoved, his tone chillingly calm. "Don't rush. We've only just begun. I still have over a hundred kinds of pain waiting for you."

With each slash of the Scalpel, Wei Xin's screams grew louder, more desperate. His voice cracked, raw and hoarse, until his throat was torn apart from the strain, leaving him wheezing with every breath.

He passed out, only to wake moments later, his mind shattered by the relentless torment.

In the span of a single minute, it felt as though he had lived through an eternity.

Finally, the breaking point came. Wei Xin collapsed, sobbing uncontrollably, begging for mercy. He offered everything he had—his wealth, his power—anything to escape his misery.

But his wealth was meager—just fifty hundred thousand Spirit Money bills, a pittance.

Fang Xiu's hands didn't stop. "Not enough. You still have some semblance of reason left, still begging for your life."

Another minute passed, and Wei Xin's body began to rot, large patches of his flesh turning necrotic. His physical form began to collapse under the weight of the pain, and it was clear that he could no longer endure.

As death loomed closer, Wei Xin's eyes fluttered with the faintest glimmer of relief. For him now, death was the only salvation.

But then, Fang Xiu's voice, as cold as the grave, whispered in his ear: "Pain... absorb."

In the blink of an eye, all of Wei Xin's wounds began to heal. His flesh knitted together, broken parts of him mending with unnatural speed.

Fang Xiu's satisfaction was evident as he harvested the pain, feeding off it for his own twisted pleasure.

It was a double victory—he had sown suffering and now reaped a bounty of it, a feast of torment that left him grinning with delight.

"No! No, no, no!" Wei Xin screamed in terror, his mind finally shattering. He had reached the end of his endurance.

The pain was far from over.

Just then, someone patted Fang Xiu on the shoulder. It was Yang Ming.

"Xiu... let's go, okay?" Yang Ming said, forcing the words out, clearly uncomfortable.

Fang Xiu shook his head. "Not yet. We're almost there, but it's not time to harvest."

Another minute passed.

By now, Wei Xin had completely lost his sanity. His mind was shattered, unable to form a single coherent sentence, destroyed by the endless torment.

Fang Xiu finally nodded. "Mmm, that's enough."

With a simple gesture, Fang Xiu opened Taotie's massive mouth, and with a single gulp, swallowed all of Wei Xin's remaining Spiritual Energy.

A satisfied smile crept onto his face as he savored the power he had just absorbed.

As he stood, he murmured to himself, "Indeed, the Spiritual Energy born of suffering is always the most delicious."

Turning to the group, he saw their faces pale with exhaustion. Fang Xiu spoke calmly, "Let's go."

The others nodded numbly. Only Xiao Chuxia, weak and trembling, managed to stumble closer to Fang Xiu.

"Xiu, please, take me to Yue Lai Inn... I... I don't think I can make it much longer." Her face was ghostly pale, her forehead dotted with beads of sweat.

The others were in similar states, barely holding on. If not for Taotie drawing the Specters' attention, they might have already lost someone.

"Yue Lai Inn isn't an option." Yang Ming suddenly shouted.

"Yue Lai Inn costs a hundred thousand a person. But there are six of us, and we only have a little more than five hundred thousand Spirit Money. It's not enough. Let's head to the shed! We'll make do with thirty thousand, squeeze into one room, and Xiu, you can rent the shed."

Looking at the group's weak, exhausted faces, Fang Xiu shook his head. He didn't go to rent the shed, but instead spoke with calm certainty: "Follow me. We won't need to spend a single Spirit Coin."

Translator's note: Why did Yang Ming suddenly care so much about the woman?