219: Chapter 219: This Little Box in My Hand is Your Final Ho 219: Chapter 219: This Little Box in My Hand is Your Final Ho Lanterns inscribed with the character for “at” hung on the wall, and the simple wooden tables and chairs were painted a dark red.
In the crevices of the floor tiles, unidentified bugs scuttled across.
The air was thick with the aroma of at, teasing the taste buds.
Han Fei stood at the doorway, his instincts telling him that this restaurant was not safe.
From the outside, the dumpling shop was unremarkable, but once inside, Han Fei realized the space was quite large.
The haphazardly arranged wooden tables bore faint grease and dirt stains, as if soone had just eaten sothing there.
Given the thick layer of grease, it didn’t seem to be dumplings.
When Han Fei entered the shop, there were other custors there, but they paid no attention to Han Fei, burying their heads and devouring the contents of their bowls with such ferocity, as if they would eat their chopstick-holding hands as well.
“This way, please.”
Standing at the entrance and hesitating whether to leave, Han Fei heard a man’s voice.
Following the direction of the voice, the curtain to the kitchen was lifted, and a man wearing a pig-faced mask ca out.
He carried a huge tray, climbed onto it, and placed three large bowls on it, the enticing aroma emanating from the bowls.
“Please sit, what would you like to eat?”
The man placed all three bowls on the table of another custor in the shop, who then lifted the lids covering the bowls and directly grabbed sothing from the bowls to stuff into his mouth.
He ate deliciously, completely forgetting his severely swollen stomach, which seed about to burst, and the stack of bowls piled high on the other side of the table.
“Can I ask you sothing?” Han Fei still dared not walk farther inside, staring at the man in the pig-faced mask, feeling a chill down his spine.
Yinglong and Cry had not issued any warnings, but it was possible not because they had not sensed any danger, but because they were blinded by sothing.
“After you finish eating, you can ask anything you want, you must be very hungry by now,” the man said, picking up a greasy rag and carelessly wiping the table.
He did not force Han Fei but let him sit near the entrance.
Hearing the man’s words, Han Fei always felt that what the man wanted to say was that after eating, it would be ti to leave.
This man with the pig-faced mask looked benign, but he gave off the aura of an executioner on a scaffold.
A butcher who has slaughtered nurous animals carries the sll of blood and grease; executioners are the sa, though killing people is different from slaughtering animals, hence the aroma emanating from them is slightly varied.
“The nu is on the wall, take a look,” said the man in the pig-faced mask, standing next to Han Fei.
Being stared at by that bizarre and ugly pig face, Han Fei felt extrely uncomfortable.
He vaguely felt that the eyes beneath the mask were not those of a human.
“I’ll have a bowl of fresh at dumplings then,” Han Fei pointed to the dish listed at the top of the nu.
“Just one bowl of dumplings?” the man still didn’t leave, his eerie gaze shifting to the Spiritual Altar Han Fei was clutching, “One bowl might not be enough to share.”
“Let’s start with one bowl to taste, if it’s good, we’ll order more,” Han Fei maintained his composure, but his heart was already hanging.
The other party noticed the Grudge hidden inside the Spiritual Altar.
“Alright then,” the man seed easy to talk to, he again wiped down Han Fei’s table with the rag, “Just a mont.”
He placed a warm bottle on Han Fei’s table, “The tea is in the cabinet at the front, brew whatever you like.”
After speaking, he called out to the kitchen, “A bowl of steaming fresh at dumplings!”
After the masked man left, Han Fei hurriedly opened the Spiritual Altar to communicate with Yinglong, but when he saw Yinglong with his own eyes, he realized the situation was even worse than he had imagined.
Han Fei had only felt hunger, the desire to eat.
The Grudges inside the Spiritual Altar, however, were directly biting into their own bodies, their last bits of reason tornted by the hunger to the brink of collapse, their faces twisted, eyes filled with madness.
“This dumpling shop is seriously sinister!”
Gnawing at their own bodies, the Grudges urgently needed to eat, as if only eating could calm them down.
Seeing their state reminded Han Fei of the crazed Xu Qin, who, after using all her strength, underwent a Curse outbreak, and only after eating all the at in the house did she recover.
“If we stay longer, I fear my neighbors will start to turn on each other.”
Grudge was originally a combination of despair and agony, and it was already extrely difficult for them to maintain their sanity, but now this situation was practically forcing them to lose control.
Hunger could provoke the worst malice, and when pushed to the limit, people were capable of doing anything.
Rising, Han Fei was about to leave when the door of the dumpling shop was suddenly pushed open.
A chill wind dispersed the aty aroma inside, and a middle-aged man with long hair and a pale face entered.
He wore a pure black outfit that seed to be woven from hair, adorned with so bizarre patterns, which upon closer inspection, were faces of people.
“Could it really be such a coincidence?”
The middle-aged man carried a wooden box stained red with blood, and he brought with him a pungent odor, which seed to be a mix of perfu and the stench of a corpse.
Upon entering, the middle-aged man casually picked a table and sat down, then he opened the wooden box.
The aroma of at inside the shop was instantly masked by the sll of blood, and another custor who was madly eating also glanced at him blankly.
The middle-aged man didn’t mind these, and when the employee wearing a Pig-faced Mask walked out from the kitchen, he reached into the box and pulled out a human head.
“Is it him?”
The employee looked at the head, and his Pig-faced Mask seed to change, as if it were smiling.
“It’s close, but no.”
Upon hearing this answer, the middle-aged man furiously threw the head back into the box, “Who exactly is the Butcher?
This is already the fourth one, and I was targeted by that Madwoman just to get it.”
“She’s not dead yet?”
“Should be soon,” the middle-aged man’s face darkened, his eyes gleaming viciously, as he fished out a Dinner Knife from the bloody water in the box, “I stole a knife from her, her Curse is no longer complete.”
His pale fingers were sliced by the blade’s edge, oozing fresh blood.
Feeling the pain, the middle-aged man not only did not let go, but gripped the Dinner Knife even tighter, “The thing I hate the most is the Curse!”
“Don’t be angry, would you like sothing to eat?” the employee asked cheerfully, looking at the middle-aged man.
“The at here, I dare not…” The middle-aged man started to say, but upon seeing the dangerous look in the employee’s eyes, he did not continue, instead, he closed the wooden box and walked toward the shop’s door.
The employee did not stop him, going straight back into the kitchen.
“Such bad luck.”
The middle-aged man fled the dumpling shop, and as he opened the door, Han Fei followed him out.
He had noticed Han Fei early on; this young man made him feel very uncomfortable, though he did not know what precisely about him caused this discomfort.
Turning into a narrow alley, the middle-aged man realized Han Fei was still following him, and finally stopped.
“We should be eting for the first ti, right?” the middle-aged man turned and stared at Han Fei, holding the wooden box, his voice cold.
“Mister, I have so things I want to ask you,” Han Fei’s eyes were fixed on the wooden box in the middle-aged man’s hands, “Where did you get the Dinner Knife you just pulled out?”
“Pulled it out from a dead body.” The middle-aged man noticed several chilling auras appearing around the alley, and he felt sothing was wrong.
“We are not good people, and it’s very easy to do sothing impulsive, so it’s best if you answer my questions honestly while we can still communicate normally, and not do anything that would make everyone regret.”
Han Fei stared at the middle-aged man’s face, his voice icy and unnervingly plain.
“Move, I’m going back.” The effeminate man with long hair, tightly holding the wooden box, stared at Han Fei, showing no intention of speaking.
“I don’t care where you live, but if you don’t explain clearly today, this little box in my hand will be your final ho.”
A dark python burrowed into the Ghost Pattern, Han Fei took out the Blood-colored Paperman from the Item Bar.
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