Chapter 1256: You're Not Cheng Shi |
Meanwhile.
While Cheng Shi was having a rather distinctive heart-to-heart with the magician, Zhang Jizu over at Morning Joy had also made some headway.
He had been lurking in the performers' administrative area, collecting useful information about the circus.
Compared to the storied Sunset, Morning Joy lacked the same depth of heritage—but that didn't mean the newcomer's scale was any smaller. Quite the opposite: the circus park in the east was even larger and more diverse than its western counterpart.
Their philosophy was to replace the old with the new, which had drawn the adoration of countless young people across the country.
Morning Joy's ringmaster was a woman named Madame Freud—one of the performers who had originally left the Sunset. As it happened, she was also a clown.
She was the one who had led a group of passionate young people to found Morning Joy, and within a few decades had elevated it to the same heights as the Sunset.
During Morning Joy's explosive growth—during the peak years of her personal career—Madame Freud had quietly stepped behind the scenes. She selected her most favored successor within the troupe, Masford, to take over the clown position and become Morning Joy's new pillar.
Under their combined leadership, Morning Joy marched from triumph to triumph, forcefully bursting onto the national stage to become one of Canlival's twin stars of circus artistry.
Moreover, Madame Freud and the young Masford shared a relationship that was equal parts mentor and friend. They got along wonderfully and spent long hours together almost every day. In recent days, however, their meetings seemed to have grown less frequent.
It wasn't that Madame Freud was too busy—it was that Masford had been hiding backstage to rehearse alone, refusing to see anyone. Perhaps sensing his immense pressure, Madame Freud hadn't disturbed him.
With the final showdown approaching, a clown working this hard was perfectly logical.
Yet in Zhang Jizu's eyes, all of this was far too reckless.
If any other performer ran into trouble, they could be swapped out for a backup act. But if the clown ran into trouble, whether the backup clown had the same brilliance—whether they could serve as the soul that strung the entire show together and left the audience spellbound—was a very different question.
Honestly, it was a bit of a risk-management failure that such a massive circus hadn't managed to develop a second Masford.
Zhang Jizu narrowed his eyes, slipped away from the performers' area without a sound, and prepared to explore elsewhere.
But just as he tried to skirt around everyone's line of sight and leave via a side path, a familiar figure suddenly appeared before him.
The newcomer wasn't an NPC but a player. What stunned Zhang Jizu was that one of the two missing teammates in this trial turned out to be her!
That's right—her.
She was a female player, and a very recognizable one at that. One glance at that gradient cyan wolf-tail haircut and those suggestively flickering eyes was enough to know this woman was not someone to be trifled with.
Poison—the Corruption Chosen One. A villainess who fascinated some players and made others gnash their teeth.
She wore her usual outfit: a long-sleeved hoodie that covered her upper body tightly, its hem draping past her shorts, leaving only a pair of legs so pale they almost glowed.
Her appearance made Zhang Jizu's eyes narrow to slits.
He didn't have any issue with Poison. There was no friction between them whatsoever. She had even been his comrade-in-arms before—they'd fought Mo Shu together.
He simply couldn't understand why Poison would play the vanishing lone wolf in a trial like this, only to now seek him out.
But he quickly figured out the reason.
Poison brought a finger to her lips, her smiling eyes narrowed to silky slits as she let out a soft "Shh." Then her gaze darted about playfully as she began to lean into Zhang Jizu's arms, murmuring as she drew closer:
"Little priest, I haven't seen you around lately. Have you been... avoiding me on purpose?"
Zhang Jizu immediately realized the Corruption Chosen One wasn't looking for him at all—she was looking for Cheng Shi!
She had mistaken him for Cheng Shi.
It made sense. By basic logic, if one of the two Zhang Jizus was actually Cheng Shi, the likelier candidate would be the one at Hu Wei's side.
Poison was the foremost expert on desire. She might not be able to read Cheng Shi, but she could definitely read the Grand Marshal. So she had trusted her read on the Grand Marshal and used it to locate "Cheng Shi."
But Zhang Jizu was not Cheng Shi. Seeing Poison about to fall into his arms, he narrowed his eyes without an ounce of hesitation, drew his scalpel, and placed it exactly where her forehead was about to land.
Poison's tilting motion froze. She stopped dead, balanced perfectly on the blade's tip. Her bodily control had reached an almost inconceivable level.
She then lifted her eyelids to gaze at "Cheng Shi" with a pitifully wounded look:
"I'm so tired. Lend me your shoulder for just a moment. Just once—please?"
Zhang Jizu let out a dry chuckle and shook his head:
"No shoulder available. But I've got plenty of empty grave plots. If you're truly that exhausted, eternal rest underground might be the ultimate release.
How about it? Interested, Miss Poison?"
"???"
'He's not Cheng Shi!'
Poison was shocked. Her leaning body snapped upright in an instant, like a clock hand rewinding to its proper position.
A flicker of surprise crossed her face, but it was quickly replaced by a knowing smile:
"Willing to stand in for the little priest and distract the Grand Marshal... You and he must be quite close, hmm?"
Zhang Jizu smiled back:
"Decent enough, I suppose. But probably not as close as you are with him."
Poison lowered her head coyly: "It's not quite as close as you're imagining..."
"?"
When you were truly at a loss for words, you really were at a loss—because you could never be sure whether what a Corruption follower said meant what you thought it meant.
Zhang Jizu studied Poison thoughtfully. He could indeed see undeniable exhaustion in her expression. He was curious: how could someone who toyed with desire in the palm of her hand, someone who understood "catering" to others' wishes better than anyone—how could she possibly look this drained?
And she didn't look like someone who had come through a brutal fight. She looked more like someone who had endured something that had worn her down body and soul.
He waited for Poison to ask something, but she said nothing.
It wasn't that she didn't want to—she simply had no leverage against Zhang Jizu.
She understood this Death Chosen One well. Beyond guarding his little cemetery and surviving to the very end, this "pure doesn't-want-to-die" player had virtually no other desires.
Though not wanting to die was itself a kind of desire, Zhang Jizu's identity as a Gravekeeper already made him self-sufficient in that regard. Which meant her techniques were completely useless against a player of such "pure desire."
Unable to use her faith's advantage to pry anything from Zhang Jizu's lips, she could only sigh and try another approach to communication.
She looked at Zhang Jizu, mimicked his signature fox-eyed squint, and asked with a smile:
"Do you know that the little priest is Yu Xi?"
"?"
Zhang Jizu's eyes narrowed until they vanished entirely.
...