SES Chapter 126 Part 2

That ghost story about the heartbeat — the one that had circulated Nantan ever since the Tengma Platform was abandoned — what if Xiang Silan had written it herself?

The more she thought about it, the more certain she became. Who else could have?

Just then, as Luo Ren knocked again, the light inside went out.

A second later, a shadow lunged toward the front window. Glass shattered — Cao Yanhua’s scream followed. “She’s out! She’s out!”

Luo Ren’s heart clenched. He bolted forward — but before he could reach them, another crash came from the back.

A feint?

“Decoy move!” Luo Ren shouted just as Wan San yelled, “It’s a chair!”

Thankfully, Mu Dai was already covering the back.

Sounds of struggle erupted from behind the house — Mu Dai must have intercepted her. Luo Ren sprinted that way, Cao Yanhua right behind him, Wan San hesitating before following.

Rounding the corner, they saw a large, writhing shadow skimming the ground toward the rice field — fast.

Luo Ren immediately understood.

Mu Dai had pinned Xiang Silan, but the woman’s strength was unnatural. Mu Dai’s martial skills were strong, but she was light. Xiang Silan, using that cursed power, dragged her bodily across the dirt — the two locked together, forming one massive, moving shadow.

Luo Ren dove, rolling low, grabbing Mu Dai’s arm. The black mass twisted, split apart — Mu Dai refused to let go, clutching Xiang Silan’s torn shirt as Luo Ren held onto her.

To anyone else — like Cao Yanhua, who arrived seconds later — it looked absurd: three people in a line, clinging to each other in the dirt. He couldn’t tell who was who, but instinct told him which one to stop.

“The one in front!” Luo Ren shouted.

Cao Yanhua didn’t think, just lunged forward. Fabric tore. The frontmost shadow broke free, darting low across the field — but Cao Yanhua threw himself on it with a desperate yell.

Wan San ran back to the house, flicked on the lights.

The cramped room reeked of mildew, cluttered with clothes tied in bundles, some half-unraveled. Wan San grabbed a few ropes and rushed back.

Luo Ren took them, tying the woman’s hands behind her first, pulling the knot tight. He started to loop the rope around her neck, hesitated, then glanced at Mu Dai — and instead tied her feet. His hands moved fast, precise, efficient. The woman grunted once but didn’t cry out.

Strange — she made no sound at all.

They carried her back inside. Under the light, Mu Dai finally got a clear look. Luo Ren asked quietly, “Is it her?”

Mu Dai didn’t know whether to nod or shake her head. The woman looked about forty, worn by life but still faintly handsome — utterly ordinary, like anyone you might pass on the street.

Luo Ren’s gaze drifted to her chest. Something about the rise and fall of her breathing looked wrong — subtle, but strange. If not for Mu Dai’s earlier warning, he might not have noticed.

“I’ll do it,” Mu Dai said softly.

He nodded and handed her the knife. “You two, turn around,” he told Cao Yanhua and Wan San. It wasn’t just a matter of modesty — this might be Mu Dai’s mother, and he didn’t trust himself to act with the right balance.

Mu Dai gripped the handle, stepped closer, and lifted the woman’s shirt.

It was strange — after all these years searching, imagining this moment — she didn’t feel excitement or sorrow. Just a cold, heavy calm.

The blade slid through the fabric with a soft rip. Xiang Silan lifted her eyes — cold, unfamiliar.

Luo Ren had been right. Her mother had never loved her. Expecting love from someone who never gave it was a hopeless kind of comedy.

Mu Dai’s hand trembled, then she cut downward. The fabric tore open with a long, harsh sound — like snapping strings.

What she saw froze her blood.

Beneath the cloth, her mother’s chest had… a hollow. A deep concave cavity, dark red and pulsing, like a bowl set into her body — rising and falling rhythmically.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Her instinct said it was a heart.

But something was terribly wrong. Could a heart be seen like that? Where were the ribs, the protection? In biology class, the ribs had looked like an umbrella over soft organs — none of this made sense.

Her head buzzed. Behind her, Cao Yanhua asked nervously, “Little Master, can we turn around? Can we look?”

She didn’t answer. Breathing shallow, she barely registered the sound of a chair scraping as Cao Yanhua stumbled, or Wan San’s muttered curse. Luo Ren leaned in to inspect.

Xiang Silan sneered, twisting her neck with a spasm.

“Knife,” Luo Ren said, holding out a hand.

Mu Dai handed it over automatically. Luo Ren flipped it, pressed the handle gently against her chest, testing. He inhaled sharply.

“How bad is it?” Mu Dai asked.

“It looks like… her entire thoracic structure has changed,” Luo Ren said quietly.

Cao Yanhua and Wan San hung back, uneasy.

“The heart’s shape isn’t normal,” Luo Ren continued. “It’s like an inverted cavity — the ribs exist on the sides but not the center, as if the body reshaped itself around the heart. And the heart itself… it’s not exposed, exactly. It’s covered by a thin layer of skin — almost transparent.”

Cao Yanhua gaped, speechless. Wan San finally muttered, “Is she even human?”

Luo Ren couldn’t answer. Her organs were there, yes — but rearranged, altered in ways no human should be.

“From the outside, you’d never notice,” he said. “But inside, everything’s been shifted. The change must’ve compressed her airway — she probably can’t speak.”

Cao Yanhua let out a shaky laugh. “So she made others lie with open eyes… but she herself can’t say a word?”