I Can Devour Spirits

Duan Rong moved like a phantom in the pitch-black night, twisting and turning rapidly through the alleys.

Amidst the howling night wind, Duan Rong stopped at the gate of a courtyard.

This was Yang Zhen’s home, a place he had visited countless times, almost always ending up drunk with Yang Zhen.

Duan Rong tightened his grip on the wine jar in his arms; today, he intended to get drunk with Yang Zhen once more.

With a thought, Duan Rong abruptly extended his Divine Sense, passing through the courtyard and into the room!

Yang Zhen was in the bedroom but remained awake, an oil lamp on the cabinet by the bedside burning.

The dim light cast Yang Zhen’s anxious and heavy face, as he paced back and forth in the cramped bedroom.

Duan Rong retracted his Divine Sense but did not knock on the door. His figure leaped over the wall like a large bird, landing lightly in the courtyard.

The window of the inner room emitted a dim yellow light, and the main door of the hall was open — typical of Yang Zhen’s style, as he never closed doors.

Holding the wine jar, Duan Rong stepped lightly through the courtyard, his feet landing silently like a cat’s.

Duan Rong stood at the doorway of the hall, where the faint, mottled yellow light from the inner room oil lamp reached his feet, while Yang Zhen’s anxious pacing inside was particularly clear in the silence.

Duan Rong paused there for a few moments, then entered the inner room with the wine jar.

In the cramped room, Yang Zhen was pacing back and forth when a shadow flickered at the corner of his eye near the door.

Yang Zhen turned his head apprehensively, seeing Duan Rong standing there with the wine jar.

At the sight of Duan Rong, the anxiety and fear in Yang Zhen’s eyes receded like a tide. He knew the moment of destiny had arrived.

Many things frighten and worry you before they happen, but when they arrive, you become calm.

Yang Zhen’s gaze swept over the wine jar Duan Rong was holding, and looking at his expressionless face, he said calmly, ”You’re here.”

”Yes, I’m here.” Duan Rong seemed to meaninglessly repeat Yang Zhen’s words, then smiled, raised the wine jar, and asked, ”I brought wine. Do you have cups?”

Yang Zhen took the oil lamp from the cabinet to the table in the hall and went to the kitchen to retrieve two clay bowls.

Duan Rong opened the wine seal, and the aroma of the Eight Treasures Building’s thirty-year-old brew filled the hall.

Yang Zhen’s eyes lit up at once.

Duan Rong poured the wine into two bowls, handing one to Yang Zhen.

Yang Zhen sniffed the wine’s aroma with flaring nostrils before gulping it down, smacking his lips with satisfaction as he looked at Duan Rong and said, ”Good wine!”

The wine Duan Rong usually drank with Yang Zhen was bought from a shop in the alley. How could it compare to this thirty-year-old brew from the Eight Treasures Building?

Duan Rong had silver coins to treat Yang Zhen to such fine wine, but this jar was worth half of Yang Zhen’s annual salary, so how could he flaunt it?

Yang Zhen drank another bowl, then poured himself a third, finally quenching his wine craving a bit. He smiled and looked at Duan Rong, asking, ”Where did you get this fine wine?”

Duan Rong calmly replied, ”Thirty-year-old brew from the Eight Treasures Building.”

Yang Zhen nodded, saying, ”Indeed, it’s good wine. This wine is fit for a farewell, very fitting!”

Hearing the word ’farewell,’ Duan Rong felt a pang in his heart, his gaze turning cold as he looked at Yang Zhen and asked, ”How much do you know about my affairs?”

Yang Zhen smiled, ”Not much. You killed Xu Ruhu and Jie Lei. You also killed Chief Jie.”

Duan Rong’s expression remained unchanged. ”You have no evidence!”

Yang Zhen’s smile faded. ”True! But I just know.”

The air seemed to grow heavy instantly.

After a long pause, Yang Zhen asked, ”I’m curious. Chief Jie was a True Qi Realm master; how did you kill him?”

Duan Rong poured a bowl of wine down his throat and remained silent.

Yang Zhen chuckled, knowing Duan Rong wouldn’t tell him.

The two said no more, each quietly drinking.

After several bowls in silence, Yang Zhen suddenly asked, ”Duan Rong, will you kill me?”

Duan Rong stiffened, then forced a single word from his throat. ”Yes!”

After speaking, Duan Rong felt as if a huge stone weighed on his heart, suffocating him.

Yang Zhen said nothing more, only continued drinking.

They drank quickly, and the jar of wine soon ran dry.

Yang Zhen smiled faintly, burping, saying, ”Duan Rong! You brought wine, so our friendship wasn’t in vain.”

Suddenly, Yang Zhen jumped back, pulling the Barrier Saber from his waist, ”The wine’s finished! Come on!”

Duan Rong remained seated, glancing at Yang Zhen, asking, ”Is there anything you need me to do?”

”I have only an uncle, nothing holding me back. You don’t need to do anything! Enough talk! Come!”

Duan Rong said, ”You can’t beat me.”

Yang Zhen replied, ”Damn it! That’s supposed to be my line!”

Duan Rong and Yang Zhen had been inseparable since childhood, though they’d occasionally quarrel, with the taller Yang Zhen always telling the leaner Duan Rong he couldn’t win.

But unexpectedly, in this moment of life and death, it was Duan Rong who said it.

As if recalling old times, the tension broke with a faint smile from both.

At that moment, Duan Rong suddenly raised his sleeve, releasing a cloud of white medicinal powder onto Yang Zhen’s face like a mist.

Yang Zhen’s vision went black, and he collapsed to the ground, his Barrier Saber clattering at his feet!