Chapter 24: Not What I Expected

Xiaoqing hurried down the winter street, clutching Li Changluo’s hidden reward in her arms.

Li Changluo hated being followed more than anything—but even more than that, he despised being deceived. He only liked deceiving others.

Li Changluo followed from a distance, knowing that Xiaoqing could sense demonic energy. This sensing ability only worked at close range, he was sure of that. Besides—what did it matter with his own pitifully low demonic energy? There was barely any difference between having it and not. What was there to fear?

Li Changluo considered himself a good judge of character. In his eyes, Xiaoqing was a naive, guileless tomboy—straightforward to the point of simplicity, utterly lacking in cunning. Except, perhaps, for her tendency to knock people out.

But now, this supposedly artless girl had run off with his possession?

He trailed her through several streets until she finally entered a tavern called Hearth Bar. Compared to the usual nightclubs—filled with dancing, flirting, and watered-down drinks—this kind of place was much simpler. People came here just to listen to music, drink, chat, and perhaps teach a girl a foreign language. The results were the same as any other bar, only the process was a touch more literary.

Li Changluo didn’t go in. Instead, he found a seat outside with a good view of the interior.

Inside, the lighting was dim. A resident singer sat in the center, strumming and singing with heartfelt emotion. Xiaoqing took a seat in a corner, facing a man whose features were obscured by shadow. Li Changluo couldn’t make out his face.

“This is what you were looking for.” Xiaoqing placed the bonfire skill book on the table.

“Not bad—much more useful than your worthless brother, Fatty Wang,” the man replied, slowly taking the book and flipping through it.

“So, can you let my brother go now?” Xiaoqing asked eagerly, leaning forward with her hand on the table, her tone pleading.

“Of course,” the man said smoothly. “We agreed—so long as you got the book, we’d let you go. We’re monsters of our word, after all.”

He leaned in as well, hands on the table, eyes fixed on Xiaoqing.

In the dim light, Li Changluo finally got a good look at the man: a face ravaged by excess, pale, with dark circles and lifeless eyes. His gaze lingered on Xiaoqing’s chest, and he swallowed repeatedly.

“Are you thirsty?” Xiaoqing asked, noticing how he kept licking his lips.

“Thirsty—very thirsty. Little sister, why don’t you help me quench it?”

“Oh, alright.” Xiaoqing got up, went to the bar, and returned with a bottle of whiskey.

The man grinned lecherously. He hadn’t expected this pretty, sweet girl to be so considerate. A well-timed drum needs only a gentle tap, he thought. She understands me. She looks so innocent on the surface, but inside…

Xiaoqing smiled sweetly, brushed back her hair, then placed one foot on the sofa next to the man, holding the bottle.

She opened it slowly—then, without warning, rammed the bottle into his mouth, pouring the liquor straight down his throat.

Before the man could react, the entire bottle was forced into his stomach, leaving him coughing and spluttering, pounding his chest and vomiting onto the floor.

“Still thirsty?” Xiaoqing asked earnestly, setting the bottle down and watching the man, who was still coughing violently.

“What the hell is wrong with you, you lunatic?” he choked.

“You said you were thirsty,” Xiaoqing replied, aggrieved.

Outside, Li Changluo was doubled over with laughter. He knew Xiaoqing was genuinely trying to help the man with his thirst.

But then, Li Changluo recalled something—last time, during the zombie hunt, he and Blackwa had knocked out a fat man in the ancient tomb, also surnamed Wang. Could it really be such a coincidence?

“You’re not thirsty anymore, right? Can you let Fat Brother go now?”

“Of course,” the man replied, wiping the spilled liquor from his clothes.

Xiaoqing clapped her hands happily.

“But this book is only half,” the man pointed out.

“Well, how about you release half of Fat Brother now, and when I find the other half of the book, you release the rest?” Xiaoqing suggested.

Is this girl insane? the man thought, his smile forced. “No need for that. But if you play a game with me, I’ll let you see that fat fool.”

“Alright, what game?” Xiaoqing said, pulling out her phone. “Is it Player Unknown’s Battlegrounds or Honor of Kings? Just to be clear, you do the fighting, I’ll do the trash-talking…”

The man was baffled. “Trash-talk your sister! Who the hell plays those here?” he yelled, standing up in fury. “Are you messing with me?”

His patience had run out; he was about to use force.

But before he could say another word, a slender young man strolled over, cigarette dangling from his lips, one hand in his pocket, the other protectively in front of Xiaoqing, striking a pose.

“Hey, old man, only I get to yell at my girlfriend,” Li Changluo said, taking a long drag and fixing the lecherous man with a cold, sharp gaze.

He’d made up his mind as he walked in: he was going to put on a show—no one could outshine him here. The cost was low, and there was no risk. The only question was whether his glare was intimidating enough—cold enough? And if Xiaoqing tried to kiss him later, should he keep his cool and refuse, or just go for it?

“So she’s your girlfriend?” the man sneered. “Do you even know who she is—”

He didn’t get to finish. Something flicked against his chest and fell to the floor.

A cigarette butt.

It hit his shirt, landed on the ground, the embers slowly dying out.

Li Changluo’s hand was still raised from the stylish flick, his expression cool and confident.

But—this wasn’t quite the effect he’d imagined. Wasn’t the guy’s shirt supposed to burst into flames or something?

The man looked at Li Changluo, then at the cigarette butt, then patted his own shirt. He stared at the young man for a long moment before sighing, “A couple of lunatics.”

He clapped his hands.

Instantly, a crowd of monsters appeared in the bar—monsters disguised as people, bottle demons in human clothes.

Had they been killed by bottles, or did they smash bottles on themselves as a performance and die that way?

Even the singer on stage was a monster—a guitar demon with arms and legs, carrying a person on its back.

A guitar carrying a person? Li Changluo couldn’t help wondering—did he get crushed to death by his guitar?

The man before them now revealed his true monstrous form, glaring furiously at Li Changluo.