My ‘Healing’ Game
Chapter 750: An Appreciation of "Dawn Butcher

Chapter 750: Chapter 750: An Appreciation of "Dawn Butcher

Now that he was here, what could Shen Luo do?

The only person he considered his support, Han Fei, began to select masks and "Evil Weapons." Now, Shen Luo felt like he was calling out to the heavens with no response and to the earth with no spirit, lonely, pitiable, and helpless.

"When watching this type of performance, it’s best to wear a mask to cover your twisted, excited expression." Han Fei handed a Joker rhino mask to Shen Luo. He had picked a particularly distinctive mask so as not to accidentally harm Shen Luo should any conflict arise after entering.

"I really do thank you." Having just escaped the Ghost Cave and now fallen into the Demon Nest, Shen Luo took the mask, trembling as he put it on, and then found a piece of protective clothing to wear.

"You two are so slow, dawdle a bit more, and the show will be over." The parrot man urged impatiently, his words dripping with contempt for Han Fei and Shen Luo, much like a high-level Foodie looking down at a country bumpkin entering a fancy restaurant for the first time.

"We’ll be ready in a moment." Shen Luo fumbled among a pile of "Evil Weapons" for a while before finally selecting a particularly vicious-looking long saw.

"You sure know how to enjoy yourself." The parrot glanced at the saw in Shen Luo’s hand, gestured for both of them to take out their phones to display a message, and after checking their "gibberish," he pushed open a Hidden Door behind the counter, leading them both downstairs.

Contrasting with the decay and disrepair above ground, the underground was luxuriously constructed, like an arena that served nobility long ago.

The walls were spotless, free from even a speck of dust, let alone blood stains, which was entirely different from the Murder Club Han Fei had imagined.

There was no scent of blood in the air, just a strong aroma of wine.

The three of them continued down the stairs through a long corridor and entered the first hall.

"You are still in the inspection phase and not formal members of the club; you can only sit in the last three rows. However, today is pretty quiet, so I’ll make an exception for you. Sit wherever you like," said the parrot man, signaling with a wave of his hand. A female waitress approached from the corner of the hall, holding a tray.

Unlike the bunny girl hostess Shen Luo had imagined, this waitress’s face was covered by a black mask, and her clothes seemed to be stitched into her flesh.

"Is she an intelligent housekeeper?" Shen Luo felt as if she was like his intelligent housekeeper at home—seemingly human, but in reality just a shell.

"No, she’s human, a living person just like you and me." The parrot man was pleased with Shen Luo’s reaction: "Once you become a formal member of the club, you can do whatever you want with her. But I must remind you that doing anything here does come with a price."

The parrot man stared unabashedly at the waitress: "She had wanted to join the club as well, but unfortunately her application was rejected. Then she made a bad choice that resulted in her becoming what she is now."

"Did she also... kill people?" Shen Luo had initially felt sympathy for her, but now all that remained in his heart was fear.

"The men who died at her hands are likely more numerous than the women you’ve held hands with," the parrot man said with a sinister chuckle.

"So, she hasn’t killed anyone." Shen Luo replied sincerely, cutting off the parrot man’s somewhat grating laughter.

The waitress paid no attention to the noise around her, placing the tray in front of Han Fei—it contained only one glass of wine.

"Your work is mediocre, permeated with anger and entirely an outburst without a shred of aesthetic appeal; it’s worth no more than this glass of wine." The parrot man had intended to chat more with Han Fei when suddenly, a metal ring on his wrist lit up: "How is it that a high-level member is arriving at this time?"

He completely ignored Han Fei and Shen Luo and briskly left Hall 1.

After the waitress and the parrot man had left, Shen Luo nervously asked Han Fei, "Have you lost your mind? What are we doing in a place like this?!"

"Wasn’t it you who wanted to come? I told you, the performances here are quite explicit. You were the one who looked so eager at the time," Han Fei said as he found a seat close to the aisle.

"Why are you sitting down?! You really want to watch the performance?!" It was Shen Luo’s first time in such a situation, and he thought it was the perfect opportunity to escape, but unfortunately, the car keys were with Han Fei, and he had no confidence in making it out alone.

"If their performance involves killing, we’ll be able to save a few more people by being here," Han Fei said, caressing the blade. He was too familiar with knives, and holding one made him feel at ease.

"If you want to save people, don’t drag me into it! I’m a burden!" Shen Luo’s voice broke in panic as he wore the rhino mask.

"Shh, someone is coming."

Moments later, the parrot man returned to the hall, leading a man and a woman. The pair clung to each other affectionately, resembling a couple in the throes of love heading to a movie theater for a date.

The woman had a good figure and wore a lion mask; the man was burly and strong, adorned with a penguin mask.

What was more noteworthy was that neither wore protective clothing or carried Evil Weapons; they simply carried a few plastic bags.

With high-level members present, Shen Luo immediately kept quiet. It wasn’t that he was shy; in this place, talking too much could literally be fatal.

"This man and woman are often at the gym, their muscles evenly toned and aesthetically pleasing, clearly the result of dedicated training. They also take very good care of their bodies. Their clothes look modest, but are actually designer brands that ordinary people would have a hard time affording. It seems that the members of the Murder Club are much wealthier than the students of Sunday Night School."

The two organizations cater to different groups, and Han Fei couldn’t yet confirm whether the same person was behind both of them.

When the high-level members arrived, the behavior of the man with the parrot changed completely. He ran back and forth, incessantly urging those backstage.

In just three minutes, the curtains in the center of the hall were pulled open, revealing a makeshift stage in the middle of the hall.

"The performance has begun."

The lights dimmed, and the doors on both sides of the stage opened. A woman in a black dress emerged, dragging a heavy suitcase behind her.

The woman wore the mask of the God of Death. She opened the suitcase to reveal a sleeping, frail man.

With the help of the waitstaff, the woman secured him atop the stage.

Shen Luo, who was already having trouble watching, wanted to cover his eyes, but Han Fei stopped him.

After the man was secured, the woman pulled out another white suitcase, which contained a whole sheepskin, from the hollowed-out sheep’s head to the limp tail, all preserved.

"The title of this piece is ’Lamb.’

"There are two lambs on the stage, one is the body, the other the soul. One was born on a farm and later sold to the butcher; the other was raised in a city known as wisdom, and later sold to the butcher."

"From birth, they have always obeyed the rules set by their masters, living within the pen, turning a blind eye to dangers outside, living carefree lives. Their lives are like this fur—pure white, soft, they are the perfect victims."

The woman wearing the God of Death mask narrated her concept to the audience. After she finished, she opened a cabinet next to the stage, which contained a variety of props.

"I will sew the lamb’s soul and body together, crafting with my own hands the purest death."

The woman was especially clean, and her movements were very elegant, the process of selecting tools resembling that of a ritual master inspecting some sort of ceremony.

Having chosen the right tools, the woman returned to the center of the stage. She injected the man with a drug, and he slowly awakened from his slumber, looking around in horror.

The couple in the audience finally showed interest. The victim would watch, fully awake, as he was gradually stuffed under the lamb’s skin; his body would grow "smaller and smaller," while the pure white lamb would "grow" bit by bit.

The man tried to scream, but his throat had been preemptively tampered with, and he could only struggle helplessly.

The absence of screams left the audience somewhat dissatisfied, but the woman wearing the God of Death mask didn’t care and continued to follow her own plan.

She meticulously planned out the man’s body, drawing lines on his skin as if sculpting a piece of expensive jade.

The woman’s actions reminded Han Fei of a hidden profession within the Deep World—Death Designer, for which he had once obtained the minimum qualifications to change professions.

"I had thought that the guys in the Deep World were twisted enough, but reality delivered a heavy blow. Opening the Black Box was indeed the right choice, both worlds have trash that needs to be taken out."

Han Fei was prepared to make a move. If he did not act soon, the innocent man on the stage would be dismembered.

"May I interrupt for a moment?" Han Fei stood up, holding a wine glass.

Shen Luo beside him desperately gestured, hinting that he should not stand out, but Han Fei acted as if he couldn’t see.

"Interrupting others is very rude; you had better give me a reason," said the woman wearing the God of Death mask, slightly irritated, her scalpel nearly touching the man’s neck.

"Sheep are sheep, humans are humans, no matter how you mix them up, they are different species. All your talk is just an excuse for you to kill, and a lowly and naive one at that," Han Fei walked toward the stage with his wine glass: "Turning people into sheep is not interesting. I’m more curious about the differences between people, like you and this victim are both humans, but I feel your souls must be completely different shapes. I really want to slice open your heads, to see the difference between you."

The Death woman stood beside the frail man with a knife in her hand, the mask hiding her face, leaving only her cold eyes visible to Han Fei.

It was a very special look, as if she were disillusioned with everything.

"You... want to kill me?" The woman’s pupils narrowed.

"Not kill you. I just want to complete my own work," Han Fei pulled out a short knife, no longer hiding his intent: "The title of this piece is ’Dawn Butcher.’"