Chapter 082: Wang Sheng

Under Song Baoguo’s astonished gaze, I bit my finger and drew a talisman in the center of my palm. At the same time, I rushed over to the nanny and Song Chao. With one hand, I gripped Song Chao by the throat, yanking him off the nanny, and struck his back with my palm. With a faint cry, Song Chao’s eyes rolled back, and he fainted in my grasp.

I hurriedly laid Song Chao back on the bed and turned to check on the nanny’s condition. Fortunately, her blood vessels hadn’t been bitten through; he had only torn away a patch of flesh. At once, Song Baoguo called for the steward, who, upon seeing the scene, turned pale. The steward took the nanny to the hospital, while I remained where I was and looked at Song Baoguo. “Uncle Song, do you trust me?”

Song Baoguo had no room left for doubt. “What do you want me to do?”

After glancing at Song Chao, whose brows now knitted into a deep furrow even in unconsciousness, I looked up at Song Baoguo. “I need you to have someone prepare a large iron vat, fill it three-quarters with natural river water, add seven talismanic bells, seven rooster combs, seven taels of cinnabar, and a bundle of mugwort. Use branches from a lychee tree to fuel the fire. When the water reaches about seventy percent boiling, you’ll need to carry Song Chao in and soak together.”

“You must stay in there for the time it takes to burn seven sticks of incense. Once you’re in, keep the fire high. When you begin to feel the heat and Song Chao’s skin turns red, you can come out.”

“You… you’re trying to…” Song Baoguo wanted to say I meant to boil them alive, but even if I explained, he wouldn’t understand. Besides, Song Chao’s situation was already dangerous; if left alone, the resentment within him would only grow, eventually merging completely with him. He would become a violent, dangerous man—someone certain to make shocking headlines one day.

If someone like that grew up unchecked, he could prove no less a threat to the living world than the Golden Cicada Society. In the past, had anyone suggested such a thing, Song Baoguo would have broken their legs. But now, things were different; if not for my intervention, Song Chao might have become the youngest murderer.

What’s more, he had clearly been reminded of certain things by my words. He decided to trust me this once and immediately had people gather everything I needed.

Twenty minutes later, a bonfire blazed in the Song family’s backyard, with a large iron vat set atop it. “Is this good enough?” he asked.

I nodded; I had to admit, the efficiency of a wealthy household was impressive. The water hadn’t yet reached the right temperature, so Song Baoguo and I waited quietly by the vat.

“Uncle Song, is there something between you and Wang Sheng?” I asked.

“Could it really be him?” he replied.

I shook my head. Without knowing the full story, I couldn’t say for certain. Song Baoguo looked at me and sighed deeply. “Wang Sheng did die because of me. If I hadn’t defied orders and acted on my own back then, he would still be alive…”

A commander in the field does not always obey the king’s command. In those war-torn years, no one could guarantee they would survive to see tomorrow’s sunrise. To take down more enemies while still alive, whether it was Gu Dongfeng in the past, or Song Baoguo and the now-dead Wang Sheng, they all lived with their heads hanging by a thread.

According to Song Baoguo, back then the enemy had occupied a small village, slaughtering every last inhabitant with unspeakable cruelty—no one, young or old, was spared. Wang Sheng’s squad happened to pass by, and learning what had happened, Wang Sheng, as the captain, immediately ordered a change of plans: they would eliminate every enemy inside the village.

Everything had gone smoothly. Song Baoguo infiltrated the village and mapped out the enemy’s positions and firepower. He even uncovered vital information: this enemy unit was escorting a special individual somewhere.

Wang Sheng was determined to avenge the villagers and devised a battle plan. He was to lead a small team to stage a diversion and draw the enemy fire. Once engaged, Song Baoguo would lead the main force to break through from another point; once inside the village, they would attack from within and without, wiping out the enemy in one swift strike.

But Song Baoguo refused. He insisted on leading the diversionary team himself, arguing that as captain, Wang Sheng was needed to command the whole unit. Without giving Wang Sheng a chance to object, Song Baoguo set off with his team—everyone knew that drawing enemy fire meant slim chances of survival.

At this point in the story, Song Baoguo’s eyes glistened with tears. He paused, frowning, head slightly tilted, as if speaking to me, or perhaps to himself.

His voice was incredulous. “I’ve fought battles all my life, but never encountered anything so strange. Our little team had barely reached the rendezvous point when—I blacked out!”

He swallowed hard, his voice thick with confusion. “I never even saw what the enemy looked like, never fired a single shot—I just fainted! You know, when I woke up, everyone around me had had their hearts and livers cut out!”

Song Baoguo looked at me, eyes red. “I don’t know what happened—I really don’t. When I opened my eyes, I saw a figure standing in the distance, watching me. It looked like a woman—with a nail driven into her right brow.”

At those words, a thought flashed through my mind—three words:

Golden Cicada Society.

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Chapter 82: Wang Sheng (Free to Read)