Scarlet Descent
Ch. 88 - A Righteous Hero

In Scrap Iron City, a dark alleyway was shrouded in a light drizzle. The streets were empty, with windows tightly curtained, and the streetlights cast a dim, cold glow. Except for the occasional scurrying of rats through the trash, the area was eerily quiet.

Someone had been observing this spot multiple times, ensuring no one was watching. The fear of the “Black Robed Butcher” had cast a shadow over the entire city. Although the chances of encountering him were slim, the mere thought sent shivers down his spine. Every time he passed through shadows or corners, his heart would involuntarily constrict, as if the butcher was lurking, ready to pounce.“Don’t worry, don’t worry…”He reassured himself, attributing his fear to mere paranoia. Scrap Iron City was vast, and he was cautious and agile. What were the chances of running into him?He stuffed a sack into the trunk of his jeep. One of the sacks seemed to stir, and he quickly grabbed a wrench, striking it to silence any movement. Closing the trunk, he looked around, seeing nothing but the quiet streetlights. He lit a cigarette, preparing to get into his jeep.But as he turned, his eyes froze in terror. On top of his jeep sat a stiff, eerie face—a mask resembling a Goat. The person wore a black raincoat and held a sharp sickle. The eyes behind the mask seemed to gleam with amusement.“Hello, little bad guy…”Fear surged through him like a tangible force. He frantically pulled out a black handgun and aimed it forward.“Whoosh…”A blood-red sickle swooped down, and he felt his wrist chill as his hand, along with the gun, fell to the ground. He cried out in pain, kneeling down. The sickle flashed again, severing his other hand. As he tried to flee, his legs were cut from under him.He turned to see his vision filled with blood. Captain Ouyang had instructed him to leave survivors for questioning, but these peripheral hunters might hold secrets... So, just leave a tongue.…On the nineteenth floor of a high-end hotel, a man in pajamas spilled his coffee. He had lain low for three years, awaiting a mysterious directive. Seeing the news, he realized there were others like him, and a powerful, deranged individual was now targeting them. This person had the capability to wipe out an entire sacrificial site. He couldn’t underestimate such a monster.Though he knew he had to follow the directive and prepare “lambs,” he decided to avoid using demonic powers, fearing detection. Instead, he used money and sedatives to hunt. Despite this caution, he felt unsafe.He quickly dressed, intending to deliver his last “lamb.” But as he changed, he felt a chill. Turning, he saw his window open, and on his bed, beside the lamb, stood a man in a blood-stained black raincoat, wearing a comical goat mask.“Hello…”The man smiled. “Your abs are well-toned.”The air seemed to freeze. The man’s voice was soft, but his presence was terrifying. Before he could react, he was knocked to the ground. Looking up at the approaching goat mask, he was consumed by fear.“Who are you? Why are you killing me? I haven’t done anything wrong, offended anyone... Let me die with dignity!”The masked man paused, his movements slowing. The man on the ground seized this moment, shouting desperately: “Even this woman was willing...”The masked man spoke gently: “I don’t have evidence of your wrongdoings, so... this time, no mercy.”…On a midnight street, a school bus driver, his face ferocious, sped down the road. The teacher on duty was unconscious, and the children, all under fifteen, cowered in fear at the back of the bus.“Just once,” the driver thought. “Do this once, and I’ll escape the city, finally free.”But as he fantasized, he saw a figure ahead, holding a blood-red sickle under the streetlights. It was a goat mask.“The monster…”The driver screamed, flooring the accelerator, but the bus didn’t slow. The next moment, the sickle sliced through the front of the bus, cutting the driver in half. The masked man leaped into the driver’s seat, slowing the bus. The children shrieked, huddled together.The masked man turned, his face friendly despite being covered in blood. He raised a finger to his lips:“Shh... Be good.”…This rainy night, many peripheral hunters were still active. Despite the widespread reports hinting at a stalker, they dared not disobey the mysterious directives, proceeding with their dark deeds. But someone else stalked them from the shadows.Fear spread, and the scent of blood mingled with the rain. Hunting and being hunted played out in countless reversals throughout the night. The smell of blood seemed to spread with the damp air. Many were awakened by the sound of sirens from the Security Hall’s patrol cars rushing to various parts of the city.They found people hanging from hotel windows, nailed to lampposts, or dismembered with only their tongues left to scream, “Demon, demon!” Others were trapped in cages, begging for forgiveness. They rescued children from a school bus and a nightclub hostess stuffed into a sack. When they saved a girl cowering in a hotel room, she was crying hysterically:“Demon... I saw a demon. A goat-faced demon with a long red sickle.”“Why did I survive? He patted my face and told me to call the police.”“He hanged my loved one outside the window and smiled at me, saying don’t be polite.”…“A righteous person doesn’t need thanks for doing what’s right.”As Wei Wei watched the Security Hall’s lights sweep through the rain-soaked streets of Scrap Iron City, he smiled, perched on a rooftop. It had been a long time since he felt this happy. He loved stopping crimes anonymously. It was exhilarating—perhaps this was the thrill of justice.The heartbeats around him were like threads, weaving through the city, guiding him. The closer he got, the more he could hear their heartbeats, their panic, and their past mistakes. The goat mask hid a joyful smile as he sprinted through the wet streets. If his previous “artwork” had instilled fear, tonight he would deepen it. Let them tremble like lambs every time they hunt at night.As for the strange words from the consciousness at the sacrificial site, the mad mutterings in his dreams, and the ticking clock in his dazed state, they seemed to hint at a more complex connection. But what did it matter? Only the lambs should fear.His smile grew wider as he followed the heartbeats into the night. Captain Ouyang was right; listening to fear wasn’t an ordinary ability--it was more like a guiding light.

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