Clang—!
At the critical instant, Fu Songcheng grabbed the stainless steel cup tray from the table beside him with his left hand, blocking the blade.
The blade tip pierced through the tray.
The massive force carried the dagger onward. Though it veered off the lethal throat position, it still slashed viciously across his right upper arm.
Blood instantly gushed out.
“Fu Songcheng’s” strike missed, the madness in his eyes deepening.
His wrist flipped, the dagger twirling in his palm in an all-too-familiar flourish, and he stabbed backhandedly at Fu Songcheng’s heart.
“Fu Songcheng?”
Sitting to the side, Yu Huaiting was somewhat caught off guard by the sudden turn. He didn’t know why “Fu Songcheng” would suddenly deal a killing blow to a strange woman in red, but he was ready to follow the fight the instant it started.
Yu Huaiting kicked his chair aside, summoned his greatsword, and was about to join the battle.
“Fu Songcheng’s” strikes were fast and vicious, forcing Fu Songcheng into a wretched retreat, knocking over two tables in succession.
Seeing Yu Huaiting about to join in ganging up on him, Fu Songcheng tilted his head to avoid a blade grazing past his scalp and roared furiously: “Silly dog! Look clearly who it is!”
The coldness and familiarity in that roar struck a chord in Yu Huaiting.
Silly dog, stupid dog, good dog—he vaguely remembered Fu Songcheng always calling him that.
When?
In bed?
But he and Fu Songcheng had never been to bed.
Why did it feel like he’d fought alongside this person for a long time, been through so much?
Yu Huaiting’s footsteps stopped.
Holding his blade, his face full of confusion, he looked at the woman in red, then at the frantically attacking “Fu Songcheng.”
“What did you call me?” Yu Huaiting frowned.
Seeing this, “Fu Songcheng” immediately shouted, “Don’t listen to her nonsense! Kill her!”
As he spoke, “Fu Songcheng’s” speed surged again.
He’d stroked the Sympathy Doll, gaining an agility-boost skill.
The real Fu Songcheng now had no time even to curse.
He had no attribute bonuses now, no skills to use, couldn’t even summon his items.
His movements, before the high-dimensional-attribute “Fu Songcheng,” were like slow motion.
“Fu Songcheng” whipped a kick at Fu Songcheng’s lower body. Fu Songcheng could only roll wretchedly on the ground to barely dodge. He’d just stood up when “Fu Songcheng’s” dagger was already at his eyes.
Fu Songcheng turned sideways, taking an elbow strike on his arm.
Bones gave a dull collision sound; sharp pain came. He used the push to quickly widen the distance, snatching two bottles of hard liquor from the bar and hurling them at the other’s face.
Crack! Crack!
The bottles were easily shattered by “Fu Songcheng’s” dagger, alcohol and glass shards flying everywhere.
“You can’t dodge.” Quan Heng, wearing Fu Songcheng’s face, spoke in a voice only the two of them could hear. “Die in peace. I’ll replace you.”
Fu Songcheng didn’t speak. He quickly adjusted his breathing, his gaze fixed dead on the other’s shoulders and footsteps.
Yu Huaiting still hadn’t moved. He was thinking—and also being interfered with by Fu Songcheng stroking the Sympathy Doll during combat.
The “Fu Songcheng” before him used the skills he was familiar with and held the dagger, but the impatience and near-deranged killing intent were completely unlike Fu Songcheng.
Fu Songcheng killed people with elegance and composure—he was a man with heavy baggage. He’d never be like this, frantic to prove something, full of flaws.
Yu Huaiting narrowed his eyes.
“Yu Huaiting! What are you waiting for!”
Seeing Yu Huaiting drag his feet, Quan Heng turned his head and roared impatiently.
And in that instant of distraction, Fu Songcheng moved.
Quan Heng had his attributes and skills, but Quan Heng was ultimately not him—and no one could imitate him.
“My melee combo—the opening stance pivots on the left foot for leverage.”
Fu Songcheng spoke coldly, his voice not loud, yet clearly reaching Quan Heng’s ears.
Quan Heng’s heart lurched. He instinctively wanted to change his move, but the body’s inertia had already made him step out with his left foot per Fu Songcheng’s combo habit.
Fu Songcheng didn’t retreat.
He charged straight at the dagger stabbing toward him!
Pfft!
The dagger pierced unobstructed into the woman in red’s left shoulder.
“You’re courting death!” Quan Heng sneered.
But the instant the dagger entered, Fu Songcheng’s right hand clamped dead onto Quan Heng’s dagger-wielding wrist.
This body didn’t have much strength attribute, but Fu Songcheng didn’t need it. He didn’t use brute force to resist—instead, borrowing Quan Heng’s forward momentum, he spun his body hard to the right, his left shoulder bearing the blade, and wrenched Quan Heng’s arm outward viciously.
At the same time, Fu Songcheng’s right foot kicked hard at the inner side of Quan Heng’s left knee.
Crack!
The sound of bones dislocating rang out.
Quan Heng lost balance, his body pitching forward uncontrollably.
Without any pause, Fu Songcheng endured the tearing agony in his left shoulder, released Quan Heng’s wrist, locked both hands onto Quan Heng’s carotid and windpipe, and using the downward pull of gravity, drove both knees heavily onto Quan Heng’s spine.
Bang!
The two crashed hard onto the floor.
Fu Songcheng had locked down “Fu Songcheng,” who suppressed him in attributes.
“Cough… let go…”
Quan Heng struggled. His strength could easily have flipped Fu Songcheng, but Fu Songcheng’s lock was extremely tricky, completely cutting off the angle for him to exert force.
The more he struggled, the stronger the pressure on his throat, his brain beginning to starve of oxygen.
“So what if you have my attributes?” Fu Songcheng’s voice sounded by Quan Heng’s ear, carrying cold mockery. “No matter how good the weapon, in a waste’s hands it’s just scrap iron.”
Yu Huaiting strode up.
He looked at the “Fu Songcheng” pinned dead on the floor by the woman in red, then at the woman in red—even with a dagger in her left shoulder, her gaze still cold and sharp as a blade—and his last shred of doubt completely dissipated.
“Songcheng-gege?” Yu Huaiting tentatively called out, his foot already stepping onto the pinned Quan Heng.
Fu Songcheng looked up and glanced at him. “Caught on?”
Quan Heng’s face was flushed red, still struggling. He stared dead at Yu Huaiting, his voice hoarse: “Yu Huaiting… you believe her? I’m the one who…”
Yu Huaiting stepped on Quan Heng’s hand that was trying to reach for the dagger, his eyes full of disgust. “Who are you?”
Fu Songcheng tightened his arm, clamping Quan Heng’s throat so he couldn’t make another sound.
He turned to Yu Huaiting and said quickly, “Open your backpack.”
Yu Huaiting froze, but without any hesitation, immediately summoned his system panel.
“Find an item. It’s called [Sever].”
Yu Huaiting flipped rapidly through his backpack grid.
He was somewhat disoriented, unable to remember which timeline he and Fu Songcheng were actually on. He seemed to be sometimes Yu Huaiting who’d come into the dream to find his lover, sometimes Yu Huaiting who’d just cleared Avalon with Fu Songcheng.
“What Sever? I…”
Before Yu Huaiting’s words faded, his finger suddenly stopped.
He saw the item in his inventory.
[S-rank Item: Sever]
[Causality item—severs all connection with another thing.]
[“If you cut, cut cleanly.”]
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