Chapter Thirty-Five: To Save the World, She Must Be Killed

Cheng Feng was waiting in line outside the fortune-teller’s shop on the commercial street. Despite more than ten people ahead of him, he remained patient. If this fortune-teller really was as remarkable as rumored—able to provide any information, resolve any trouble, even glimpse the future—then he had to pay a visit.

Though the line was long, it moved swiftly; most people exited the fortune-teller’s shop within two minutes. Cheng Feng observed that those waiting ahead looked troubled, weighed down by worry, as if plagued by depression. Some wore expressions as grim as if they’d eaten something foul, visibly burdened by sorrows they hoped the fortune-teller could help dispel.

One by one, these people entered the shop. When they emerged, their faces transformed: radiant, smiling, brimming with newfound vigor. Their joy seemed more extravagant than winning a million-dollar prize; Cheng Feng couldn’t help but marvel at such exaggeration.

“The master truly lives up to his reputation—he can solve anything, even this!”
“My late-stage cancer finally has hope. I’m endlessly grateful!”
“I finally know how to win the heart of the campus beauty. Turns out all I need is a burlap sack—the master’s advice is divine!”

Every person who exited the shop sang its praises.

After nearly half an hour, it was finally Cheng Feng’s turn. Ahead of him was a woman wearing a mask. Her cheeks bore severe burn scars, twisted and crusted, so hideous that children would have nightmares at the sight. Yet when she came out of the shop, her youthful, beautiful face was fully restored, her fair skin without a trace of injury.

This master was truly extraordinary...

Having witnessed these scenes firsthand, Cheng Feng became convinced that the fortune-teller’s reputation was no mere boast; he must possess real skill.

“Please, come in,”

It was finally Cheng Feng’s turn. Inside the door, a cleric dressed in black uniform gestured him forward. The cleric led him, walking ahead, while Cheng Feng followed closely.

They proceeded down the corridor until Cheng Feng was brought into a spacious room. As soon as he entered, his attention was drawn to the murals hanging on the walls.

The murals depicted a hellish earthly inferno: demons rising everywhere, countless black-robed devotees kneeling, praying to a goddess in the heavens. The sky in the painting was awash with drifting clouds, exquisitely beautiful—a stark contrast to the apocalyptic devastation below.

The goddess, with four pure white wings, wore a gauzy long dress and golden ribbons like a celestial maiden. Her ethereal grace was so mesmerizing, so exquisite, it seemed beyond desecration.

Seeing these lifelike murals, Cheng Feng felt an inexplicable sense of wonder. It was as if lightning flashed through his mind, giving him the illusion that he’d witnessed this scene before.

He withdrew his gaze and noticed the room contained only a black wooden table, upon which sat a crystal-clear divination orb. Behind the table sat a man dressed in a dark, flowing robe, his face shrouded by the shadow of a black hood, concealing his features.

“Greetings, please take a seat,” the black-robed fortune-teller gestured invitingly.

Cheng Feng took the seat before the black table. “Are you the fortune-teller?”

The fortune-teller’s voice was deep and resonant. “Yes. What would you like to know?”

“I’ve heard you can answer any question, even glimpse the future,” Cheng Feng said, eyes fixed intently upon him, sharp with anticipation. “I want to know what lies ahead for me. Can you help?”

“I can.” The fortune-teller smiled faintly. “Place one hand on the crystal ball, please.”

“That’s all?” Cheng Feng, though skeptical, complied, pressing his hand to the orb, which felt cold and smooth, like chilled glass.

He waited in silence for about a minute.

A soft hum resounded.

The translucent crystal ball glowed with a faint white light. Upon its surface, the fortune-teller’s astonished gaze was reflected from beneath the hood.

Noticing the change in expression, Cheng Feng asked, “Master, what’s the matter?”

The fortune-teller composed himself. “Nothing. I’ve already glimpsed your future in the crystal ball.”

“Is it real?” Cheng Feng was startled, his gaze fixed on the orb, seeking clues about himself. Yet the orb merely emitted a gentle white light—no images, no words appeared.

But the fortune-teller seemed to see something. He spoke, astonishingly, “Mr. Cheng Feng, you are eighteen years old, a student at Greenleaf First High. Your family consists of a father who is always working late and a younger sister in middle school. Am I correct?”

“My god!” Cheng Feng was stunned.

The fortune-teller’s magnetic voice continued from beneath the hood. “Ten days ago, you were bitten by a vampire, yet did not transform. You became the world’s only half-human possessing vampire abilities.”

“That’s enough, you can stop,”

Cheng Feng cut him off, then calmly asked, “So, master, what does my future hold?”

“Well… I must be frank, your future is fraught with peril, due to an unavoidable calamity...” The fortune-teller paused thoughtfully, then added, “Whether it can be resolved depends entirely on your own choices.”

“A calamity?” Cheng Feng frowned. “What do you mean?”

The fortune-teller folded his hands atop the table, speaking gravely. “Have you recently met many girls?”

“More or less. Is there a problem?” Cheng Feng’s confusion showed.

“That’s it. One of them is not an ordinary person—or rather, not human. Her identity is unique, and she will someday plunge Winter City into disaster.”

“Is that possible?” Cheng Feng was shocked. All the girls he’d met lately were perfectly normal; how could any be nonhuman?

“It’s true. She is enamored of you, and she is your future calamity. Perhaps you should recall all the girls you’ve recently been around?”

Enamored of me?
And not human?

Cheng Feng frowned, thinking deeply, recalling every girl he’d recently encountered.

Liu Shiyu? She was a cold, ruthless killing machine—impossible to feel anything for him, let alone be connected to monsters. Excluded.

Yan Ruoying? She was a demon hunter for the Supernatural Disaster Association—certainly unrelated to monsters. Excluded.

Cheng Yi? His younger sister, whom he’d watched grow up since childhood—without doubt, purely human. Excluded.

Could it be Xia Qingyao?
No, impossible—a meddling class monitor as a monster? Besides, their mutual animosity made any affection out of the question. Excluded.

Seeing Cheng Feng perplexed, the fortune-teller prompted, “Did you recently rescue a girl?”

A bolt of lightning seemed to flash through Cheng Feng’s mind. Not long ago, he’d saved a classmate from a vampire, personally escorting her home afterward.

Her name surfaced swiftly—Lin Xiaoqin!

“It seems you’ve realized. She is your future calamity. She is not human. As long as she lives, not only you but all of Winter City will face destruction because of her. Therefore…”

The black-robed fortune-teller’s voice became steely, “If you wish to survive—if you wish to save Winter City—you must kill her.”