Chapter Thirty-Two: What Does He Amount To?

After Mu You finished speaking, he bent low, sprang up, and hooked his clawed hands onto the insulated glass before the two men. With a harsh rip, he tore it down, instantly exposing two panic-stricken faces at the jagged opening.

Neither man had expected Mu You to possess such strength. Stunned for a moment, they were kicked away, curling up on the ground, clutching their stomachs and howling in pain.

Without hesitation, Mu You snatched up the electric net from the floor and shoved it straight through the rent in their insulated suits. The sharp barbs immediately dug into their faces, drawing blood as they struggled to dodge. The more they resisted, the deeper the hooks pierced, blood streaming freely—some of the spikes even embedded themselves in their eyes, impossible to extract.

Satisfied, Mu You tied together the other ends of the two electric nets. Instantly, any movement from one of them would send waves of agony through the other, their screams echoing in tandem until in the end, neither dared move a muscle.

"Shoot! Fry him! Kill that brat!"

One of the burly men, unable to endure the torment any longer, shouted hoarsely to the snipers.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

Before he finished, three more electric nets came flying toward them.

"This is the moment I've been waiting for!"

As Mu You lunged forward, he suddenly arched back, sliding under the electrified net between the two men. The whistling nets collided midair, then fell upon the already-linked nets, sending a surge of power through them. Two heart-rending screams tore through the night.

Using his momentum, Mu You grabbed the net, straightened his waist, and with a sharp tug as he rose, the agonized cries grew even more twisted, becoming so shrill and piercing that they made the scalp prickle. Charred blood sprayed as two blackened faces were torn clean off by the net.

Mu You didn't spare them a glance. Riding the force, he charged toward one of the snipers.

The sniper fired repeatedly, the other two immediately moving to assist, but Mu You was fearless. He spun the five nets now tied together in his hands with a tiger's ferocity, wielding them like a massive whip, striking down the incoming electric nets.

The captured nets tangled onto his, and in no time, his electric whip grew ever longer, like a thunderous dragon coiling in the pitch-black sky, electric serpents flickering and slithering in all directions.

Lit by the storm of lightning, Mu You’s handsome face took on a wild, almost demonic cast. He paused, then swung the half-room-spanning thunder whip straight at the sniper not far away.

The sniper, desperate and undeterred, fired again, but his electric net seemed minuscule compared to the whip. He dared not flee; behind him was the high-voltage net, and if he ran, Madam Xiao’s retribution would be a fate worse than death.

A giant, current-charged dragon crashed into his chest. The sniper was sent flying, slammed into the high-voltage net, and immediately the stench of scorched flesh filled the air.

"Ahh!!"

The sniper’s scream now trembled, shifting in pitch with the pulse of the electricity.

In the throes of death, the sniper cast a woeful smile at Mu You, then, looking over his shoulder at Madam Xiao, slowly raised the net launcher in his hand.

He did not aim it at himself, nor at Mu You, but at... Madam Xiao.

Sold off to Madam Xiao by his drunken father when he was very young, he was trained as an assassin under hellish conditions, enduring a life of hardship and frequent grievous injury.

Yet compared to being beaten half to death by his perpetually drunk father, he felt his current existence was bliss. Here, his identity was erased; he was no longer some “mongrel dog born of rotten flesh”—he felt clean, like everyone else, able to lift his head beneath the sun, able to look around without hiding from children who taunted him. In training, he could even fight back.

All these freedoms and rights he’d never dared to dream of, Madam Xiao had bestowed upon him.

The first time he saw Madam Xiao, kind as a grandmother, he was melted by her gentle smile. He was moved, he was happy.

Never had he known the affection of elders before; this was his first time. When he spoke as the assassins’ representative, Madam Xiao caressed his head with loving hands.

At first, he flinched as if shocked, his body shrinking away, but then, with boldness, he leaned his head back into her palm.

Those callused, aged hands were warm and comforting. In that moment, he cried—for the first time, he felt an elder’s care. From then on, he and all the other youth assassins swore undying loyalty to Madam Xiao, to serve her till death.

After that, he trained all the more fiercely, determined to repay Madam Xiao’s kindness, to prove himself worthy of her grace. Only an elder like her deserved his life’s devotion.

On the day he came of age and was promoted to elite assassin, he was summoned to Madam Xiao’s chambers that night.

The lavish, gilded décor was unlike anything he’d seen in his life—he felt so fortunate, finally leaving behind the assassin base of more than ten years, now able to guard Madam Xiao’s safety in such luxury. It felt like the happiest thing in the world.

But when he saw his beloved benefactor again, he sensed something was wrong.

Madam Xiao, fresh from her bath, wore a long golden silk robe etched with countless azure birds and golden phoenixes, reflecting a spectrum of colors in the candlelight.

She held a wineglass, pouring blood-red liquid into her mouth, a trickle running from the corner of her lips down her wizened, bark-like neck and vanishing into the folds of her robe.

She paced toward him, her gait feline, and pressed her aged fingers to his muscular chest, testing his strength with a satisfied nod, then slowly peeled away his assassin’s cloak.

In that moment, he finally understood why the instructor told him to bathe before coming and had looked at him with such pity.

He shivered inexplicably—a chill from the depths of his soul, something he hadn’t felt since leaving his father, now returning with a vengeance.

Madam Xiao’s golden robe slipped from her age-spotted, stooped shoulders and floated to the floor.

He immediately found the sight unbearable—perhaps all women were like this, he thought.

Madam Xiao ordered him to kneel and lick away the liquid at her lips. As he hesitated and reached out his tongue, she could resist no longer, pouncing upon him like a ravenous she-wolf, unleashing her hunger without restraint.

The moment he hit the floor, it was as if time rewound ten years. The kisses were not forceful, yet they hurt more than his father’s razor blades. He lay motionless, dazed and muddled through the night.

So, it was always himself who was naïve.

In this world, effort only hastens your fall.

The more you learn of the truth, the more certain it is: if you are not defiled, you will be utterly consumed.

The fate of the lowborn never changes—try to enter the world of the powerful, and you will pay the ultimate price.

Don’t expect anyone to support you; only equality of resources brings mutual aid.

From beginning to end, what was he, really?

After that night, he slept for three days and nights. Every evening, Madam Xiao summoned a different male favorite—only such favorites were allowed to guard her person.

So many nights, through the shifting light behind the curtains, he heard their anguished moans, unable to suppress their cries in the end.

Standing watch outside, his own body began to respond to those sounds.

He felt he was going mad. He hated it all—after all these years, he hadn’t escaped his nightmare, but had willingly leapt deeper into despair.

He had never once tasted freedom.