Chapter 5
Bloodstained Bus
Shi Mo's hand was already raised. His fingers were long and slender with distinct knuckles, and his skin was almost sickly pale. In the dim, flickering light, it looked as if it had been carved from the finest cold jade, yet at this moment it carried an elegance and precision in reaping life.
With fingers extended like a knife, thrust straight out.
"Pfft!"
A dull, crisp sound, the wet thud of flesh being pierced.
The pale fingers, like a hot knife cutting into solidified butter, plunged without resistance into the very center of the swollen man's throat, all the way to the base of the fingers.
The dark red, viscous blood, resembling syrup and exuding a strong, foul stench, erupted suddenly, like a fountain finding its outlet.
Scalding blood splattered onto Shi Mo's cheek, white hair, and black casual clothes, making a soft "hissing" sound, instantly staining half of his body red. Blood dripped down his jawline, splattering into glaring blood flowers on the dilapidated floor.
"Uh...ho...gurgle..." The swollen man made incomprehensible gasps and gurgling sounds of blood rushing back from his throat. His bulging eyes stared intently at Shi Mo, who was right in front of him, filled with extreme horror, pain, and a trace of bewilderment—he seemed unable to understand why this "flight attendant" was not "playing the game" according to the rules.
Shi Mo's eyes remained unwavering as he gently twisted and hooked the finger inserted into the other's throat.
"Snap... crack..."
A sickening, muffled sound, as if cartilage and trachea were being crushed and torn, came from inside the swollen man's neck. His body convulsed violently, like a fish out of water, his legs kicking wildly at the back of the seat in front of him with muffled thuds.
Shi Mo then slowly withdrew his hand.
As his fingers left, a large clump of viscous, putrid substance mixed with broken cartilage, torn vocal cord tissue, and dark red blood clots fell with a "thud" onto the dirty floor.
The swollen man's head tilted limply to one side, the wound on his neck turning into a bloody, mangled hole. Dark red blood gushed out like a flood, quickly soaking the seat beneath him and dripping onto the floor, mixing with the existing grime to form an ever-expanding, sticky, scarlet area.
His body twitched twice more before going completely still, with only his bulging, lifeless eyes still staring at the pale white lights flashing on the roof.
[Ding! Lootable skill detected: D-rank 'Weak Hypnosis'. Loot?]
"Yes." Shi Mo confirmed indifferently in his mind, but his gaze was already like a precise searchlight, sweeping over the other "passengers" in the carriage who suddenly froze.
Dead silence.
A deathly silence, deeper than that of a grave, suddenly enveloped the carriage.
The old woman with her twisted neck had stopped moving her cloudy eyes, and her grinning mouth twitched slightly; the man in the suit with a purplish-blue face seemed to have frozen and twisted his eternal, sinister smile, and his purplish-blue face was trembling; the figure dripping water in the last row curled up even tighter, and the frequency of the dripping water became disordered; and several other beings hidden in the deeper shadows, whose full appearances had not yet been revealed, also emitted intense mental fluctuations mixed with fear and chaos.
This white-haired, heterochromatic-eyed "human"... what did he do? How could he... how dare he... so directly, so violently, so easily, tear apart the veneer of "needs" and reveal the most primal killing?
Shi Mo raised his hand, which was covered in thick blood and soft tissue fragments, and held it in front of his eyes, as if admiring a newly completed work of art. Then, he stuck out his tongue and, extremely slowly, licked the most vivid scarlet spot on the tip of his index finger.
His movements were graceful, imbued with an inhuman, almost exploratory focus.
"The taste," he lowered his hand and commented softly, his voice eerily clear in the deathly silence, "is utterly unremarkable."
His gaze finally settled on the passenger who was dripping wet.
The passenger seemed to be provoked by that gaze, or perhaps driven by some deeper rule, which compelled it to speak again.
Its voice was wet and slippery, as if countless bubbles were bursting in its throat, filled with an indescribable chill and greed, but if you listened carefully, you could discern a trace of uncontrollable trembling: "So...so cold...it's been so cold here...flight attendant...your...your skin...looks...warm...could...could I...lend it to you for a moment? Just for a moment..."
Shi Mo turned around and faced him directly.
"Cold?" Shi Mo's lips slowly and clearly curved upwards, forming a perfect but cold arc.
That wasn't a human's smile expressing goodwill; it was more like the calm yet cruel confirmation a predator makes before launching a fatal attack.
He smiled.
That smile caused the already plummeting temperature inside the carriage to drop even lower, seemingly freezing the air, even the pervasive smell of decay.
"Sure." Shi Mo's voice even carried a strange tenderness, like the most tender lover whispering in your ear, "I heard your needs. I can help you... obtain eternal warmth."
His figure moved again.