Chapter 59: [Feast] First Blood

The sound of gunfire ceased.

Because Feng Mu and Wang Yilin’s figures had overlapped completely, the constables were afraid of accidentally killing the bureau chief.

Then,

they collectively petrified, their expressions freezing in absolute stiffness and terror.

With horror, they watched Wang Yilin’s flesh shriveling. His originally greasy skin and protruding belly caved inward at a speed visible to the naked eye. The once plump skin on his face instantly turned dry, wrinkled, and sagging, hanging loosely as if it could no longer cling to his bones, and he aged by decades in a single instant.

Meanwhile, the bullet holes in the masked man’s legs, waist, and stomach were healing with eerie speed. They could even see the wounds writhing, sprouting dense clusters of granulation tissue that looked like rows upon rows of living teeth biting against each other.

The sight was borderline Cthuluvian, causing the hearts of the constables to hammer frantically as their sanity plummeted.

As six or seven bullets were spat out by the writhing flesh, as the withered corpse thumped heavily onto the ground like a featherweight shell, and as the blood-stained mask turned to face them, a pair of crimson, non-human eyes gazed at them with greed.

The constables' fingers froze on the triggers, utterly unable to press them down.

No matter how vicious the members of heinous criminal syndicates were, trained as they were, these officers could always suppress their fear and pull the trigger.

Yet facing the entity before them... a monster of whom they could no longer be certain remained human, not a soul wished to draw its attention next.

They held their breath, their bodies seemingly controlled by instinct, standing frozen in place. This was the body’s most primitive defense mechanism.

When humanity's ancient ancestors still lived by consuming raw meat and blood, encountering terrifying predators would cause them to freeze completely, avoiding predation by playing dead.

In the deepest memories encoded within human genes, playing dead was the most effective tactic when confronting an apex predator of the food chain.

The constables' current behavior seemed foolish, but it precisely reflected their truest thoughts at that moment: they genuinely believed that the blood-stained mask before them was no longer one of their own kind.

That featureless bone mask was no disguise; it was simply the monster's true, terrifying visage.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly in that second.

As they watched the blood-stained mask turn its head, every single one of them felt those crimson eyes staring directly at them. Though the mask possessed no facial features, every single texture upon it exuded a bloodthirsty hunger.

The blood was fading, sinking bizarrely back into the bones, and the mask returned to its pristine, stainless state, as if everything that had just occurred were merely an illusion.

Except for the desiccated corpse upon the ground, which silently accused the monster of its atrocities.

Staring at that ivory-white, immaculate mask, the constables felt the blood in their veins turn even colder, icy drafts piercing straight through their skulls.

---

"[Feast] doesn't suck blood through a mouth; instead, every single inch of bone throughout the entire body can do it, as long as the bone presses tightly against the target's severed arterial blood vessels."

Feng Mu thought to himself as he felt the blood being drawn from his bones and into his body.

"Is this considered a bond between [Feast] and [Iron Eater]? Not using a mouth saves me a lot of trouble, but it's starting to feel more and more wicked."

This was Feng Mu's first time drinking blood, completely devoid of experience. He had originally planned to press his head against Wang Yilin's neck, rip off the mask, and tear into the flesh with his teeth.

He hadn't expected the mask to overstep its bounds and steal the teeth's job. In that exact instant, Feng Mu truly felt that his bones were exceptionally accommodating—so accommodating that they felt as though they could spring to life at any moment.

Looking at the withered corpse at his feet, with its eyes wide open in unfulfilled grievance, he could inexplicably smell a thick stench of resentment radiating from the remains.

Or perhaps it wasn't smelled at all, but rather tasted through the very flavor bleeding from the victim's blood.

Naturally~

Wang Yilin had finally managed to expand his political ambitions and pry open the door to a new world, only for the first thing descending from beyond that door to be a blood-sucking ghost face that sucked his entire world dry into a withered husk.

Having sucked a living human to death, Feng Mu couldn't help but shiver violently in his heart.

During the blood-drinking process, he had been utterly incapable of controlling himself. There was no thought of stopping in his mind; it was entirely driven by an overwhelming impulse to drain a person dry.

Even though, at the very beginning, he had never intended to suck the man dry.

He could tolerate snapping someone's neck, but he could not yet accept reducing a person into a dried corpse. The aesthetic was far too depraved and wicked, draining not only the sanity of others, but beginning to fluctuate and erode his own as well.

"So this is what it feels like to suck a person's blood dry," Feng Mu muttered to himself.

Through the mask, his voice seemed insulated from human emotion, laced with a metallic, cold, and ruthless quality.

Even though Feng Mu did not actually feel that way, the constables with their ears pricked up nearby all unanimously perceived the exact same meaning: The monster hasn't eaten its fill yet!

Playing dead by standing still was no longer working.

Reason recaptured control over genetic instinct, and a single thought erupted simultaneously in the minds of the constables: "Run! As long as I run faster than the others, I won't be the next one sucked dry."

There was no starting pistol, yet everyone scrambled to get a head start, to the extent that in Feng Mu's eyes, the motion of these constables spinning around and sprinting away possessed a uniform, synchronized beauty.

Truly a well-trained collective~

At the scene, only those disabled or severely injured constables unable to run were left behind, staring in absolute despair at the fleeing backs of their comrades.

As well as all those individuals whom the patrol bureau had captured for interrogation—they all buried their faces into the dirt, presenting their trembling posteriors directly toward the mask.

Having sucked a person dry, the icon for [Frenzied Blood] dimmed back down, while the icon for [Feast] shone with unprecedented brilliance.

[You have initiated Feast.]

[You have sampled a blood bag.]

[Blood bag quality: Hard to swallow.]

The prompt box popping up on his retina left Feng Mu silent. Sucking a living human into a withered husk was called a "sample," so if he had partaken deeply, would he have consumed even the skin and bones?

[The hard-to-swallow blood bag possesses no special nutritional value, merely converting into 10 days of lifespan for you.]

Feng Mu was pleasantly surprised. [Feast] truly could increase lifespan, confirming his hypothesis.

Then, his face turned slightly green again. A living human only converted into 10 days of lifespan? This conversion rate was somewhat shocking, and it was hard not to suspect the existence of an unscrupulous middleman taking a cut in the process.

The icon for [Feast] had lost its emotional fluctuations by now, looking very much like a normal, lifeless system icon.

Feng Mu blinked and prepared to dismiss the prompt box when, abruptly, his expression froze.

[You can add this lifespan to yourself, or transfer it to another / it.]

[Note: Depending on the life tier of the transfer target, corresponding losses will occur.]

Feng Mu: "……"

Feng Mu's mouth hung open in an "O" shape. The ability of the [Feast] trait seemed roughly what he had anticipated, yet simultaneously vastly different.

"Can [Feast] not only apply to oneself, but also to him or it?"

"Does this 'him' and 'it' refer to the exact 'him' and 'it' in my understanding?"

With a rather peculiar gaze, Feng Mu swept his eyes over the withered corpse on the ground, a sudden whimsical thought flashing through his mind: Let's assume, just for a second, that if I were to take the life force I just converted from his body and return it to it...

Would it actually manage to crawl back up from the ground?