Chapter Seventy-Eight: Returning to School

This time, when the golden blade exploded, Song Nianqiang deliberately targeted the Skinscraper’s head, focusing nearly all his force on its skull. After losing the golden blade, Song Nianqiang’s soul power was so depleted he immediately returned to his own body. The Skinscraper, though gravely wounded by the blast, still found it effortless to kill Song Nianqiang.

“Unscathed? You’re actually unharmed! So I was wrong after all!” Now, Song Nianqiang was in an extremely weakened state; his second soul’s severe injury left his true self mentally wounded, and he collapsed on the ground, able to do nothing but await the Skinscraper’s fatal blow.

The Skinscraper, though in poor shape itself, had not been struck at its weak point by the golden blade. It extended its long fingernails in front of Song Nianqiang, as if admiring a piece of art, while Song Nianqiang sat quietly with his eyes closed, making his last effort.

“Ha ha, I suppose you’re wondering why you didn’t kill me? Since we’re alone, there’s no harm in telling you: what he said about my head was only half the truth. My true weak point is the hole at the back of my head. If you drip fresh blood into it, I’ll be utterly destroyed. But now that you know my weakness, you should also be prepared to die!”

With these words, the Skinscraper’s fingernails suddenly extended, poised over Song Nianqiang’s head. At that moment, just as Song Nianqiang braced himself for the fatal strike, a strange thing happened—a barely audible sigh drifted through the air, faint and illusory, yet so ethereal that it caused the Skinscraper’s movements to slow dramatically and finally freeze in place.

Then, a golden light burst forth in the castle. Number 7 appeared, clutching a ghost king’s token the size of a button. Yet, upon arrival, Number 7 stood there stupefied, failing to comprehend the scene.

“Damn it! Why are you just standing there? Get moving!” Song Nianqiang, furious at Number 7’s dazed state, cursed him loudly. Number 7 snapped out of his shock at Song Nianqiang’s shouting. “How are you—who is that?” He’d meant to ask why Song Nianqiang was collapsed on the ground, but his gaze fell upon the immobilized Skinscraper, and his question changed.

“That’s the Skinscraper! There’s a hole at the back of its head—quick, bite your finger and drip a few drops of blood in it!” Every second counted; if the Skinscraper broke free and tried to escape, the two of them would never be able to stop it. That’s why Song Nianqiang shouted so urgently.

Number 7 hesitated, unable to confirm whether this was really Song Nianqiang, or if the frozen figure was truly the Skinscraper. But Song Nianqiang’s curses rang out again: “Stop dawdling like a woman! Either do it now, or get the hell out of here!”

Irritated by Song Nianqiang’s impatience, Number 7 glanced at him, then gritted his teeth, strode behind the Skinscraper, bit open his fingertip, and lifted the hair at the back of its head—sure enough, there was a bloody hole. Without hesitation, he let several drops of blood fall inside.

A terrible scream erupted from the Skinscraper’s belly. Only then did Song Nianqiang realize that its surface was just a layer of skin—the Skinscraper could have abandoned its outer shell and escaped under special circumstances. But the mysterious sigh had frozen it within, and as Number 7’s blood dripped into the hole, the Skinscraper—naturally vulnerable to human blood—was instantly purified into a wisp of blue smoke.

The scene changed rapidly; Song Nianqiang found himself back in the room. The two men with pistols were now lying on the floor but seemed unharmed. Li Runze and the fat man both looked pale, apparently having suffered in the illusion. The only one whose expression remained unchanged was the archer; when the Skinscraper created an illusion for him, it had already exhausted its strength, making it easy for him to break free.

“You actually killed the Skinscraper?” the fat man asked, one hand on the wall, the other on his hip, addressing Song Nianqiang, who was still sitting on the floor. Song Nianqiang nodded—he was so weak he couldn’t even bother to speak.

“This was all thanks to Song Nianqiang; we completed the mission perfectly,” Number 7 added, still shaken by what had happened. He’d thought Song Nianqiang had immobilized the Skinscraper himself. The nephew of the lieutenant general was indeed formidable, but given his special status, there was no way to recruit him into Number 7’s special ops group.

After a long night of exhaustion, Number 7 called the colonel, who was delighted to hear the mission was accomplished and rushed over with his men. That night, the small town was filled with military vehicles patrolling until three in the morning. At that hour, as if receiving special orders, all the vehicles drove toward Zhaoyang Residential District. The few awake residents, curious, stepped outside and saw several people being escorted by soldiers, but the night was thick and no one could make out who they were.

After everyone had left, a solitary figure emerged from the darkness—an old man, though no one would ask or mention who he was.

On the way back, Song Nianqiang, curious, asked Number 7, “Did you do it on purpose? Had that guy stab himself with an arrow to lure out the Skinscraper?” He gestured toward the archer, who was now sitting with closed eyes, feigning sleep.

“Heh, I didn’t expect you to guess it. Our weapons are three times as powerful when coated with blood, so I set up a plan to draw out the Skinscraper.” Song Nianqiang nodded, realizing he was no match for Number 7 in terms of strategy.

Because Song Nianqiang’s soul power was so severely damaged, the colonel sent him straight home and assigned an elite squad to guard his door, preventing anyone from approaching.

The next day at three in the afternoon, Song Nianqiang had just woken when Number 7 arrived and said, “We’re heading back. Thank you for your help—here’s three hundred thousand, a small token of appreciation. The password is six sixes!” He slipped a bank card from the Agricultural Bank into Song Nianqiang’s hand. Three hundred thousand was a fortune to Song Nianqiang at this point. Fortunately, the fat man wasn’t around; if he were, he’d probably have hugged Number 7 and kissed him right there.

“All right, I’ll accept it. Safe travels.” Song Nianqiang didn’t bother with pleasantries. If he didn’t take the money, it would go to waste; since Number 7 was handing out state funds, he was just helping the GDP.

His head was still a bit fuzzy, but it didn’t matter anymore. Climbing out of bed to pour a glass of water, he found two notes on his desk. The first was from the fat man, who had already gone off to be with his girlfriend. Song Nianqiang glanced at the note and tossed it aside.

The second was from Jiang Ningzhi, reminding him that he’d missed many classes in recent days and must come see her at school. If he ignored her request, he’d have to deal with the consequences himself.

Looking at the note, Song Nianqiang chuckled and decided to go to school the next day. For now, he had something more important to do—sleep.

Mid-September had passed, and the weather was growing cooler, especially in the mornings—long sleeves were now appropriate. The fat man hadn’t come home all night; it was easy to guess what he’d been up to. Shaking his head with a smile, Song Nianqiang sincerely wished him and Qi Lingke well, if things really worked out.

Leaving a note for the fat man, Song Nianqiang set out for school. Missing a few days was nothing unusual for him—he was only a student in name, after all. He arrived early, at 7:25, just as students were entering. The gatekeeper spotted Song Nianqiang striding toward the school in his casual clothes. Remembering the last time he’d been thrown down, the gatekeeper actually looked up at the sky, only lowering his head after Song Nianqiang passed by.

“Where’s your student ID? Go home and get it, or you’re not coming in!” the gatekeeper shouted sternly from behind. Song Nianqiang shook his head with a smile—such people only bullied the meek, never daring to stand up to the strong.