Chapter 51: Only a Wall Apart

“Leave me behind. If he kills me, maybe he'll finally stop.”
Li Xiang had no desire to survive, her eyes dull as she stared past Mu Yu's shoulder, mumbling quietly.
“Think of your child, your family! If you die here, everything will be ruined for them!”
Mu Yu frowned, wishing he could slap her twice. He certainly wasn’t so saintly as to try to save someone guilty; he was simply trying to save himself.
Li Xiang and Luo Ling were oblivious to the dangers of the Controller, but Mu Yu understood.
With the abilities Zhao Zhongmin had displayed, he rivaled the chaos caused by Feng Tun’s rampage years ago. The only thing keeping him alive was the hope of avenging his enemy with his own hands.
If Li Xiang and the other person were killed, Zhao Zhongmin would likely lose control instantly.
Mu Yu could hardly imagine what that would look like—perhaps everything within ten kilometers would become ancient frozen earth, locking in the longing of twenty years.
Even with his own abilities, he would only be gambling with death, unable to guarantee survival.
The only way out now was to get Zhao Zhongmin to regain his sanity, or at least hold on until Mu Yu and the others could escape!
“Sacrificial post.”
Hearing Mu Yu mention her family, a flicker of light appeared in Li Xiang’s eyes.
“What?”
Mu Yu was momentarily confused, not understanding.
“That was a backward custom from last century. If you wanted a construction site to remain peaceful, you had to entomb a child aged six years and six months inside the wall.”
Li Xiang’s voice trembled. The secret she had buried deep within herself was now exposed, leaving her uncertain if she felt agony or relief.
“The economy was terrible that year. I owed a huge debt. Li Yan’s mother was gravely ill, urgently needing money. Wang Zhiming… caught us together.”
“So…”
“So you sold a child to the site owner?”
Mu Yu’s face grew colder. If his own life were not endangered, he would have tossed this person aside immediately.
“You really deserve to die.”
“I know.”
Li Xiang seemed almost relaxed now, as if confessing this secret of over ten years left her fearless.
“When we get out, I’ll turn myself in. But let me live long enough to see my child one last time.”
Some people are capable of the most heartless acts toward strangers, yet show extraordinary tenderness to their own family.
Twenty years ago, one night, Li Xiang watched coldly as Zhao Zhongguo was pushed into a gap in the wall, cement slowly covering his tiny body.
Those small hands reached out toward Li Xiang, as if believing Uncle Li would carry him away from that dark, cramped corner as he always did.
But it didn’t happen.
His body was sealed into the wall, wrapped tightly in anti-corrosion cloth.
His father wandered nearby countless times, tossing and turning, choking back tears.
Zhao Zhongmin never imagined that the child he had searched for so long was only a wall away.
“Where?”
Mu Yu struggled to suppress his anger as Li Xiang spoke, an inexplicable irritation rising within him.
It tore at him.
Mu Yu fought to restrain his impulses; it felt as though spiders crawled within his shadow, their sharp legs slowly spreading outward.
“Second floor.”
Li Xiang was oblivious to how close he was to death.
Violent impacts and flying cement clouded Li Xiang’s vision; all he could see were sharp shadows extending from Mu Yu’s back, deeply piercing the wall.
Cement and embedded steel bars sliced through like hot butter, effortless and smooth.
Yet, strangely, all the gaping holes opened in every direction revealed nothing but deep darkness—even the floor was swallowed.

Zhao Zhongmin’s abilities seemed to go far beyond mere ice; they touched something deeper.
‘What should I do?’
Sweat poured from Mu Yu’s forehead. His usually unfailing senses felt sealed within the hotel; no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t see into the depths of the darkness.
Heavy footsteps sounded behind him, the floorboards groaning under the weight, a bone-chilling cold sweeping in.
Blue streams of cold flowed around Zhao Zhongmin, like a raging icy river; beneath its calm surface burned a fierce, fiery anger.
“Down.”
Li Xiang, who had been silent, suddenly spoke, his voice trembling.
“Are you sure?”
Mu Yu remained wary of this beast in human form, hesitating to jump.
“Trust me…”
Li Xiang faltered, as if wanting to say more to Mu Yu, but finally turned his head away.
“I have no reason to drag you to your death with me.”
“Huff—”
Mu Yu took a deep breath. Though he still didn’t trust Li Xiang, the icy blue wind had wrapped around his limbs, even the extensions of Xiao Bai’s body stiffening from the cold.
Enough! Mu Yu gritted his teeth, withdrew his limbs, and leaped into the black abyss below.
Two figures were instantly swallowed by darkness, vanishing without a trace. Only the howling wind remained in the narrow corridor, along with Zhao Zhongmin’s sturdy silhouette.
He walked unhurriedly, even as Li Xiang’s silhouette disappeared from his view.
He had waited twenty years for this moment; he didn’t mind making it last a little longer.
“Cough, cough, cough…”
Li Xiang crashed to the ground, the impact squeezing the air from his lungs.
Mu Yu, relying on his inhuman constitution, landed upright, leaving two clear footprints in the floorboards.
“Hurry, he’ll catch up soon.”
Mu Yu gave Li Xiang no time to recover, hoisting him up in midair.
The darkness persisted: familiar corridor, familiar doors, the hotel’s layout repeated on every floor.
“Left.”
Before Mu Yu could move, Li Xiang spoke up, his face pale from cold and the collision, making Mu Yu worry he might drop dead any minute.
Mu Yu looked left: a snow-white wall.
“Trust me.”
Li Xiang’s mind was slipping, his brows frosted, but he repeated himself anyway.
“Tsk.”
Mu Yu glanced at the hole above and decided to trust him once.
There was no resistance—the wall was like a phantom. Mu Yu crashed through, finding himself in yet another corridor.
“Forward…”
Li Xiang muttered.
Mu Yu frowned at him. Li Xiang’s vacant eyes stared straight ahead, making Mu Yu’s scalp tingle.
The body he carried dangled loose-limbed, like a broken puppet, swaying with Mu Yu’s steps.
Yet the puppet’s mouth was worked by invisible strings, opening and closing numbly, guiding Mu Yu into the unknown.
Heavy footsteps echoed behind them.
“Left…”
A strange tone.

Mu Yu fought the urge to abandon Li Xiang, forcing himself to head left.
The puppet seemed to regain consciousness as they neared a certain place—but it wasn’t Li Xiang’s mind.
“Forward…”
“Forward…”
“Forward…”
Li Xiang’s voice grew rough and peculiar, dry as if filled with cement, yet sharp as a child’s cry.
His limbs twisted beyond Mu Yu’s control, finally curling into a bundle, that weathered face buried deep in his hands.
“Here!”
A silver-bell laugh echoed through the corridor, like a child discovering treasure—surprised, delighted.
Mu Yu’s hand jerked, tossing Li Xiang to the ground.
Joyful laughter slipped through Li Xiang’s fingers; Mu Yu could see a pair of wide, black-and-white eyes staring fixedly ahead.
A door.
Hearing the laughter, the footsteps nearby lost all composure and rushed faster.
Enough!
Mu Yu gritted his teeth and kicked open the wooden door before him.
Li Xiang’s curled figure trembled on the floor as the door swung open, the laughter growing louder.
The room was bright and spotless.
Mu Yu had imagined countless scenarios, but never something so normal.
The layout was identical to his own room—same furniture, same arrangement, nothing different except for the excessive cleanliness.
Mu Yu glanced at the figure emerging from the shadows, took a deep breath, and stepped inside.
But Li Xiang moved even faster. Mu Yu could never have imagined a person could walk in such a contorted way—
Hunched back, legs together, hands covering his face…
In any other place, Mu Yu would have applauded, maybe tossed him some change to join a talent show.
But here, Mu Yu felt only a chilling dread, worse than at the blood-soaked slaughterhouse.
‘Li Xiang’ skipped around the room, searching for something, those eyes peering through his fingers darting everywhere.
Nothing.
‘Li Xiang’ circled the room again and again, growing frantic, his steps increasingly erratic, nearly stumbling several times.
The room was spotless.
As Mu Yu entered, the silver laughter faded, leaving only boundless silence.
‘Li Xiang’ stood in the center, bewildered and at a loss.
Something was wrong…
‘Li Xiang’ circled the room once more, checking every corner meticulously.
The footsteps were now right outside the door, the icy chill making Mu Yu shiver; but ‘Li Xiang’ seemed oblivious, still moving slowly.
There should be more than this; it shouldn’t be just this.
Mu Yu stood by the bed, staring at the snow-white wall, lost in thought.
Even at the brink of life and death, all three present inexplicably ceased to rush, slowly moving toward the inevitable conclusion.