Chapter 116: Bound Hand and Foot

Watching the two young men standing there in a daze behind him, Wu Jianxue chuckled to himself.

Without turning around, he addressed them, his back still turned: "What’s the matter? Scared out of your wits? Too afraid to come inside?"

Zhang Xingmin and Yang Dalong did not answer him; instead, they stubbornly followed Wu Jianxue into the room. It had to be said, the entire space reeked of blood, a stench truly nauseating.

Even more nauseating was what Wu Jianxue said next. He looked at Zhang Xingmin and Yang Dalong and asked, "Do you know what this is?"

"Blood!" Zhang Xingmin replied coldly.

"Wrong! It is human blood! And the blood of healthy men at that!" As he spoke, Wu Jianxue wore an expression of deep satisfaction.

"Pervert!" Zhang Xingmin cursed under his breath.

"Indeed! Right now, I think even a vampire would be more charming than you," Yang Dalong added with a sharp jab.

"What do you two know? In ancient Indian civilization, men's blood was the medium for communicating with the gods! Through it, I can open the door to truth! Over these years, I have visited many places, uncovered countless ancient legends and ruins of the American indigenous peoples, and even found ancient texts! I have discovered a shocking secret: the ancient ancestors of the Americas likely built special signal-transmitting devices, and these devices were powered by human blood. Through the signals sent by these devices, they could summon advanced alien civilizations to help them build cities and combat disasters! As payment, the aliens would take the lives of certain people."

"Keep spinning your tales! Why don't you finish the story like this: these aliens possessed technology so advanced it far exceeded the understanding of the ancient Indians, who worshipped them as gods and offered regular sacrifices! In reality, the aliens were just passing through and were merely curious about these primitive people. Once the novelty wore off, they ignored them. Yet, the ancient Indians, unwilling to give up, turned this sacrificial ritual into a custom, believing that if they showed enough sincerity, the gods would return to the earth. But the gods never came; they simply watched them from afar, treating them like fools. And you… you claim to have the method to make them return…" Zhang Xingmin listened to Wu Jianxue’s lecture and provided his own ending.

Beside him, Yang Dalong was laughing so hard he couldn't stand straight. He composed himself and said, "Even someone like me, who never went to college, knows this is fake! He’s a biology professor, for heaven's sake—what kind of trauma could make him believe such nonsense?"

"Newton discovered the three laws of motion, yet he was obsessed with theology in his later years! What is so strange about that? Isn't that right, Professor Wu?" Zhang Xingmin said deliberately.

Wu Jianxue looked at the two of them, angry. "Simply unreasonable. Guards, take them upstairs!"

The earlier bravado had made Zhang Xingmin and Yang Dalong briefly forget their peril, but as they snapped back to reality, they realized they were still prisoners.

By now, they had been dragged upstairs and tied tightly, unable to move. Before them were others, similarly bound, hanging from hooks suspended from the ceiling. Most had already stopped breathing, their blood drained dry; only a few remained alive, though they surely wouldn't last long. They were tied up completely naked, with incisions made at the tops of their thighs, the blood dripping down drop by drop…

"How cruel!" Damin and Brother Long shook their heads at the sight.

Wu Jianxue was quite satisfied with their reaction. He said triumphantly, "See? Scared? Fortunately, you still have a choice! As long as you listen to me from now on, I guarantee you’ll have plenty of benefits; otherwise, you will end up just like them!"

"You want us to be your dogs? Don't even think about it!" Brother Long swung his fist to strike, but was held back.

Seeing that Zhang Xingmin and Yang Dalong were determined to oppose him, Wu Jianxue sighed—whether genuinely or not, one could not tell—and said, "Dispose of them! What a waste of such sharp minds and athletic bodies!"

After giving the order, Wu Jianxue left. When he eventually remembered to come back and check, Zhang Xingmin and Yang Dalong had already been hung up, their blood drained, their faces almost unrecognizable…

In truth, Zhang Xingmin and Yang Dalong were not dead.

Wu Jianxue had left in such a rush that day because he had suddenly fallen ill—a state, of course, carefully orchestrated by someone else. Among his guards, one had been lurking for a long time.

From the pursuit starting at Dahuang Mountain to Jinji Ridge, then to a desolate island in the South Sea, and now to the other side of Blue Star, Yan Ze had sought only justice—for himself and for the late Wei Bu. Unfortunately, the enemy was deeply guarded and ruthless; a single strike wouldn't suffice, and he would surely be eliminated if he failed. Yet, he did not want to die. Though death itself did not frighten him—it was merely a different form of existence, just like Wei Bu—he, Yan Ze, wanted to witness the day his enemy perished. He did this for himself, not for some bullshit ideal like world peace; he didn't have the capacity for such grand notions.

He had been in the old city for some time now. With his understanding of Wu Jianxue, he had managed to turn danger into safety and infiltrate Wu Jianxue's guard detail. To his surprise, his former doctoral advisor had devolved into such a charlatan, using these pretexts to swindle and deceive. But that was fine; it gave him his chance.

Yan Ze had observed for a long time. Wu Jianxue’s role as the "High Priest" was entirely fabricated. Even Wu Jianxue didn't believe the lies he spun, yet his followers worshipped them with fanaticism—a terrifying power, a group of lunatics who had lost their reason.

To keep these fanatics tightly united around him, Wu Jianxue maintained a sense of mystery. For instance, no matter how hot the weather, he always wore a black robe when going out, claiming that the messenger of the gods did not fear the heat. He drank a dark, murky concoction every day, which was actually just a herbal tea made from local plants, but he marketed it as "Holy Water" that ordinary people could not consume…

To Yan Ze, it seemed heaven had eyes. As someone with a background in biopharmacy, he had quietly lurked at Wu Jianxue’s side, secretly adding a powder ground from plants into his daily special diet. For a normal person, it would be harmless, but for Wu Jianxue, it was different. This powder, mixed with the herbal tea he drank daily, would cause physical discomfort, and over time, it could lead to symptoms of poisoning—at least, that was what the books said.

And so, just now, had Wu Jianxue not left to rest because of sudden physical discomfort? Although he hadn't explicitly stated it, Yan Ze, who knew Wu Jianxue inside and out, could see it clearly.