Wu Erhun swallowed hard, gulping down nonexistent saliva.
He looked at Evans, then at Ren Yi, and finally seemed to make up his mind.
“Because... because just now, didn't I hear that old man out completely?”
Wu Erhun's voice suddenly grew quiet. His usual obsequious tone faded quite a bit, replaced by a slight hesitation.
“This boss over here is going to recreate the world in the New Era using his own memories.”
“But if there are things he doesn't have in his memories, won't they be left out?”
Evans's black liquid stopped rippling.
“So...” Wu Erhun's voice grew softer and softer. The face on the cross actually wore a rare, almost bashful expression.
“To tell you the truth, a lot of my little brothers died in that nuclear explosion of mine.”
“Since you don't know any of them, Boss, I was thinking... I really ought to tell you about them.”
Ren Yi slowly retracted his tentacles. The white cloud spun slightly, as if he were re-evaluating the insignificant little creature before him.
“I wouldn't have guessed,” Ren Yi said slowly, his tentacle tip tapping the horizontal bar of Wu Erhun's cross. “You're actually a pretty good boss.”
Wu Erhun froze.
Then, the "chest" in the center of the cross puffed out proudly—right below that face of his. No one knew how a cross was supposed to puff its chest, but he did it anyway.
“You bet I am!” Wu Erhun's voice instantly regained its vigor, even carrying a hint of bravado.
“Out on the Wilderness, anyone who hears the name of my Black Tooth Tribe knows how well Boss Wu Erhun treats his men!”
“Oh?” Evans spoke up, his tone chilly and dry.
“How is it that I heard the Black Tooth Tribe was nothing but a gang of murderous, plundering thugs working hand in glove?”
Wu Erhun's smile froze.
His puffed-up chest deflated visibly. The cross bent slightly, looking like a wilted eggplant after a frost.
“Uh...” he stammered, “well... that... those two things don't necessarily contradict each other...”
Ren Yi let out a soft, noncommittal chuckle but didn't press further.
Evans retracted his tentacle and placed Wu Erhun back on the table. The black liquid rippled back, forming an expressionless human face.
“Why should I help you?” he asked calmly.
Wu Erhun stood on the tabletop, his long bar trembling slightly.
“You aren't of much help to me,” Evans continued.
“That old man was comfortable making me the Opener because our goals align...”
“If I want to gain my freedom, I must destroy the things he wishes to destroy.”
He looked down at the tiny cross, his eyes completely devoid of emotion.
“But what about you? It doesn't seem like you have anything to offer me.”
Wu Erhun deflated completely. His smiling face sagged, and the cross bent into an irregular, drooping curve.
He opened his mouth, closed it, and finally muttered in a low voice, almost to himself:
“How about... in the New Era, I'll work like a dog for you?”
Evans shook his head.
“Forget it. There's no need.”
Wu Erhun stopped struggling. The color of the cross seemed to dim a bit, and his long bar traced circles on the table, making a faint scratching sound.
Silence returned to the room. In the dim light, Wu Erhun's shadow stretched out long, looking like a lonely scarecrow.
Ren Yi watched this play out, his tentacles tucked quietly at his sides, offering no input.
This was Evans's business, and there was no need for him to speak up on Wu Erhun's behalf. Besides, he couldn't guarantee whether this fellow was actually trustworthy.
Then, Evans spoke.
“Tell me about them.”
Wu Erhun snapped his head up.
“Just treat it as a bedtime story,” Evans added, his tone as casual as if he were mentioning some trivial matter.
Wu Erhun's smiling face instantly beamed.
“Thank you, Boss!” Wu Erhun's voice brightened by several notches.
He stood straight on the table, his long bar planted firmly like a little tree.
“Let me tell you,” Wu Erhun began, his tone carrying the smugness of an old veteran.
“The first underling I ever recruited was an old man. He was skin and bones, had a slick face, and was best at playing tricks and pretending to be a mystic.”
“If it weren't for his quick reflexes, clever little schemes, and sweet-talking mouth, I would never have kept him around.”
Evans yawned and closed his eyes, as if preparing to sleep.
Ren Yi also drifted over to the wall. His white cloud expanded slightly, his tentacles dangling below as he hovered in midair.
Only the sound of Wu Erhun's storytelling echoed in the room.
“Then there were my two generals, Heng and Ha.” Though there was no response, Wu Erhun continued to chatter away with great relish.
“The two of them weren't quite right in the head, but they were incredibly strong and good in a fight. They ate enough for three people at every meal, just a pair of absolute gluttons...”
Wu Erhun babbled on, his voice rising and falling in the room.
He spoke of a short guy who loved to steal, someone named “Ghost Hand Ah Qi”;
He spoke of a devious and ruthless guy, Little Sanzi, who loved throwing lime powder and striking below the belt;
He spoke of a tailless dog he had rescued, which was a master of acting tough based on its master's backing, always coming to him whining and howling whenever it got bullied.
The details of his stories were highly fragmented and disorganized, lacking any real structure.
Sometimes he would jump to another person halfway through, and sometimes a character would appear multiple times, with a different version of the story each time.
Those names and stories were like tiny streams, slowly and silently merging into a larger body of water.
Wu Erhun's voice grew lower and slower as he went on.
Those once-vivid faces—at least, they were vivid in his mind—were pulled out one by one and laid bare in the air.
His narration grew quieter and quieter until it faded into absolute silence.
Ren Yi's tentacles slowly curled back. His white cloud hung motionless in the air like a real cloud.
Evans closed his eyes.
The night passed in silence.
...
The next day, Ren Yi was the first to wake.
His cloud of white mist expanded slightly, and his tentacles slowly reached out from the mist, extending in all directions to probe the surroundings.
Suddenly, his perception was triggered, and he instantly became alert.
Someone was approaching.
The footsteps were light but rapid, coming from the end of the hallway with a clear destination—heading straight for this room.
Ren Yi's tentacles retracted instantly, and his white cloud shrank abruptly into a small ball of mist about the size of a fist.
He quickly drifted behind Evans, concealing his form right against him, and then "played" the classic “ring-ring-ring-ring-ring” right in Evans's ear.
With a sharp whoosh, the black liquid pooled on the floor seemed to boil, violently agitated by the ringing sound.
“What are you doing?!”
Right at that moment...
“Knock, knock, knock!”
A sudden knock came from the door. It was rapid and heavy, causing the entire door to vibrate.
“Who is it?!” Evans's attention instantly shifted toward the door, his tone extremely irritated.
He still maintained his humanoid shape from before sleeping, but he had fallen apart during the night. While his head was relatively intact, the rest of his body was scattered all over the floor.
“Good morning, lazybones, your breakfast is here!” a familiar, teasing voice called out from beyond the door.
Evans paused, quickly identifying the speaker, and snapped back in anger.
“You Sword-man!”
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