Chapter 46: Bloodthirsty Slaughter

The researcher closest to the stairs was just about to run back upstairs to report when suddenly, a segment of wing bone shot out from the iron cage like a black dagger, piercing through his chest and out his back. Blood quickly soaked his white lab coat.

“Blood… blood…”

A gloomy voice echoed from within the cage. Fresh blood was absorbed into the cage along the jet-black feathers, and tasting its scent, the dark wings grew ever more frenzied.

“Blood… give me more blood…”

“He’s lost control! Run!”

The dark power within the black-feathered creature continued to surge. Suddenly, the cage was blasted apart, and the researchers fleeing in every direction became mice beneath an eagle’s claws—torn apart one by one by Black Feather’s bare hands. The razor-sharp edges of his wings sliced the throats of those attempting to escape, splattering blood across ceiling and walls.

Obeying the instinct to slaughter, the scene quickly became a river of blood—a crimson domain. The spinning droplets whirled about Black Feather, forming a dark red vortex.

Hearing hurried footsteps coming from the stairs above, he glanced up toward the top of the cage. His wings unfurled, and a storm like a tornado surged forth. His body shot upward like a shell, breaking through the basement ceiling, smashing through the next two floors, and soaring into the sky. Amid the thunderous collapse, the cage was buried beneath rubble.

“He’s escaped! Catch him, quick!” shouted someone outside. Panicked researchers rushed out into the courtyard, firing tranquilizer darts and capture nets skyward.

Black Feather, his dark wings beating, flew through the jagged hole in the roof, rising into the air, his expression contemptuous as he gazed down at the earth. A vortex of dark energy and crimson droplets shielded him from all attacks.

White Scorpion rushed out from the office, standing at the center of the research institute’s courtyard.

“Useless! You can’t even catch a child!”

A subordinate hurriedly lit a yellow flare and launched it into the sky.

White Scorpion kicked him aside. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m notifying the Holy City Guards, asking for their support!”

“Useless fool!” White Scorpion cursed, kicking and berating him. “Do you even know what kind of experiment we’re conducting? You want the Holy City Guards to come and help? Are you out of your mind?”

“But… without support, we…”

Once Black Feather had absorbed all the blood clinging to his body, he transformed it into even more powerful dark energy. Suddenly, he dove into the crowd, following his instincts in wild slaughter and destruction, lost to all reason.

Black claws unleashed waves of dark power, devouring everything in their path. Walls crumbled, doors and windows exploded, and people screamed as blood sprayed everywhere.

“If we don’t call for help… we don’t stand a chance!” the man trembled.

White Scorpion grabbed his collar, furious. “You useless wretch!”

No time to deliberate—the southern woods were already alive with a squad clad in silver armor and red cloaks, their swords glinting in the sunlight: the Holy City Guards.

“Damn, the Guards got here fast! This isn’t over. We retreat!” White Scorpion barked, returning to the office to retrieve a suitcase containing experimental samples. He detonated explosives buried beneath the institute, and, together with several key researchers, escaped down a side path. No sooner had their silhouettes vanished than a great roar shook the ground; half the institute was destroyed, along with much of the research data.

The Holy City Guards arrived, struggling to capture Black Feather. In the end, they had to summon the city lord for assistance. Of course, during all this, Black Feather, unconscious, remembered nothing.

When he awoke again, he was curled up in the darkness of a basement, his whole body racked with unbearable pain. Looking up, he saw the Holy City Guards gazing at him curiously. As soon as he stirred, they hurriedly retreated. Then a kindly, bearded man stepped forward—the city lord, Yisheng.

“Child, you’re awake,” he said, bending down and extending his hand.

Black Feather shrank fearfully into the corner, watching him warily.

“Don’t be afraid, child. I won’t hurt you. Come.”

Half trusting, Black Feather reached out his hand.

“I’ll take you away from here.”

Suddenly, Black Feather pulled back.

“Wait!” he cried, running to the side of a cage. Through the bars, he saw only an empty white bed.

“What’s wrong, child?” Yisheng approached, placing his hands gently on Black Feather’s shoulders.

“I remember… there was a little boy here…” His head began to ache, and he clutched it tightly. “Ah, it hurts… I can’t recall anything from before.”

“Let go of painful memories,” Yisheng said softly.

He led Black Feather slowly up the stairs, step by step, out of the darkness. Standing once more in the long-lost sunlight, Black Feather felt warmth on his shoulders. Looking through the fingers that shaded his eyes, he saw butterflies dancing, grass and trees, and a clear stream running below the hillside.

“This is…the outside world? It’s so beautiful… I remember someone once described it to me… the world outside…” he thought.

“Xiaoyu!” The name sprang to his mind.

He glanced at his raised right hand, and in his palm was a birthmark shaped like a flower. Suddenly, a child’s voice echoed in his mind: “What’s your name?”

“I don’t have a name. I don’t know who I am.”

“You can give yourself a name.”

A wave of loss swept over him.

The middle-aged man beside him crouched down, asking kindly, “What’s your name?”

He thought for a moment and replied, “Black Rain. That’s my name.”

Darkness and silence returned. Now, Black Feather stood in the damp basement, facing the collapsed ceiling. He wished to see once more the place where Xiaoyu had lived, carrying with him a sense of melancholy as he walked forward.

His steps were weary, and ahead lay deeper darkness, beyond even the faint glow of his staff.

As he drew closer, a subtle but distinct rustling sounded, like an insect rapidly scurrying to hide. The creature’s legs seemed numerous and sharp, reminiscent of the scraping of snake scales against the floor.

In the dead silence, the sound reached Black Feather’s mind, but he paid it no heed, his thoughts still drowned in grief for Xiaoyu.

“Though Xiaoyu is gone, I can’t help but want to see… After all, meeting him was the most precious memory I ever had.”

His expression grew dazed, his steps unsteady. Suddenly, he accidentally kicked something, producing a series of crisp, clinking noises—jarringly loud in the silent basement.

The insect’s rustling shifted again, moving toward a corner.