My ‘Healing’ Game
Chapter 751: Death Mirror

Chapter 751: Chapter 751: Death Mirror

The wine glass fell to the ground, and the bright red wine flowed across the stage like blood.

In the oppressive hall, the one who claimed to be the Dawn Butcher gripped a sharp knife and walked toward the woman wearing the God of Death mask.

The fragile God of Death and the Butcher of Dawn, this eerie scene exuded a different kind of beauty.

The God of Death sought to insert the syringe into the neck of an innocent, while the Butcher stood in front of the innocent, intending to snatch the person from the God of Death’s hands.

The dim lights flickered for a moment, and in the instant that the lights dimmed, Han Fei, with knife in hand, rushed forward at great speed; the audience below could only see something flash by.

"Bang!"

The clash of blades emitted a crisp sound, and a trace of surprise flitted through Han Fei’s eyes; he was well aware of the danger posed by his opponent, so he had not held back.

What he hadn’t expected was that the seemingly delicate woman had actually caught his blade.

Compared to Han Fei, the God of Death was even more shocked, and the wrist holding the knife tingled slightly, as if she was about to lose sensation.

"You want to complete your own work, but aren’t you someone else’s handiwork as well?" Han Fei swung his knife in rapid succession. "Those who enjoy killing must always be ready to be killed. If you don’t have this much resolve, then the hand that holds the knife will waver."

The God of Death woman was not as strong as Han Fei, but she was much stronger than an average adult, and her speed was so quick, it was almost unlike that of a human being.

The more Han Fei fought, the more perplexed he became. He had originally thought he could quickly dispatch of a member from this club, but the first person he came across was incredibly formidable.

The two fought fiercely on stage, fascinating the audience who did not care who killed whom; they only wanted to witness the process of slaughter.

The pair of men and women, seeing Han Fei’s fight with the God of Death woman, became extremely excited and began fighting amongst themselves.

The world of these madmen was difficult for ordinary people to understand, much like Shen Luo, who was cowering in his seat at the moment, feeling like an outsider in this place.

The God of Death woman fended off Han Fei’s ten attacks in a row, and, as Han Fei prepared to deliver the eleventh strike, she gave up resistance and retreated.

She was familiar with the arrangement of the hall and had quietly moved to the Hidden Door while exchanging blade strikes.

"Trying to escape?"

Han Fei had already seen through the woman’s intentions. He aimed directly at the woman’s neck to chop down—as if she attempted to flee, she would undoubtedly meet with a severed corpse.

As the blade fell, the woman’s neck bent at an odd angle as she barely dodged Han Fei’s blade, somersaulting into the Hidden Door and vanishing into the darkness.

However, Han Fei’s blade was not entirely without reward, as he had sliced open the woman’s God of Death mask on her face, revealing a small portion of it.

It seemed familiar, as if she were one of those big shots who frequently appeared on television.

"I remember you now."

Darkness filled the Hidden Door, emitting a strange smell of medicine and stench, and Han Fei dared not recklessly pursue.

He held his knife and turned to look below the stage.

"One got away, but no matter, there are others here."

Seeing Han Fei’s gaze turn toward them, the pair of man and woman smirked and took out various things from their bags. The man even gave Han Fei a dismissive look: "High-level members can’t kill each other, or they’ll be targeted by all of the club’s members. Seeing as you’re a newcomer, we’ll let it slide this time."

"Why let it slide? I want to turn him into a waiter, wrap him entirely in leather, sew the handsome clothes into his skin," the woman complained, slapping away the man’s arm.

"High-level members cannot kill each other? With such rules, do you even deserve to be called the Murder Club? This is a desecration of death; no one should have the right to strip another of their right to die." Han Fei walked across the bright red wine toward the two: "I’ll help you cleanse the filth that coats you and send you to where you belong."

His pace quickened, and by the time the two realized what was happening, Han Fei had already closed the distance.

This pair of men and women were far less capable than the woman wearing the God of Death mask—they were barely stronger than an average person.

"Stop!" After Han Fei had disposed of the pair, the parrot man arrived belatedly with three waiters in tow: "The first time here, and you dare to break the rules, the two of you won’t be leaving tonight!"

"I didn’t do anything..." Shen Luo muttered quietly, remaining seated.

"For the sake of completing your work, you can kill without restraint; why can’t I freely kill for mine? You’re such hypocrites." Han Fei laughed, his words dripping with scorn. After confirming that the man and woman could not fight back, he advanced toward the parrot man with his knife drawn.

"You still want to kill us?" The parrot man’s voice became even more shrill; he had rarely seen someone as mad as Han Fei.

"The title of my work is ’Dawn Butcher.’ Can you call it a butcher if only one person dies?" Han Fei, smiling, charged at the parrot man: "I will lay your corpses to build a bridge that lets me cross the darkness to see the dawn."

No more words were wasted. Han Fei closed the distance with the utmost speed. His combat instincts and real combat abilities were enough to crush anyone—forged through scores of life and death battles.

"I’ve seen plenty like you," the parrot man drew an Electric Shock Gun from his waist, oblivious to the fact that Han Fei had seen right through him at their first encounter.

The short knife flew, with great force, piercing through the parrot man’s palm.

Han Fei kicked down a waiter and used another as a shield.

Brandishing this meat shield, he charged forward, exemplifying violence to the fullest.

Han Fei rarely engaged in prolonged battles; every move he made was aimed to be lethal. When Li Xue had taught Han Fei, she probably never anticipated that he would take the concept to such an extreme.

"What the hell?" Shen Luo, who was watching the fight from the side, was stunned. He could never have imagined that the scholarly-looking Han Fei would fight so fiercely.

It wasn’t just fierce—it was downright brutal.

In his eyes, the perverted murderer, who seemed unbeatable and terrifying, was like a toy in Han Fei’s hands. Each response from the adversary was predicted by Han Fei, feeling as if the outcome had already been decided before the fight even began.

Wiping the blood from his hands, Han Fei became the only person standing in the hall.

"You, you killed them?" Sounding horrified and stuttering, Shen Luo asked.

"If I had killed them, how would I be any different from them?" Han Fei started searching the bodies as professionally as if he were looting corpses in the Deep World.

"You are indeed much more terrifying than they are," Shen Luo tried to stand up, but his legs were numb.

"Take this electric shock gun for self-defense, don’t mess with anything else." Han Fei pulled Shen Luo up from his seat and handed him the parrot man’s electric shock gun, "The police should be arriving soon, let’s use this time to look around."

Han Fei led Shen Luo out of Hall number one, and they moved deeper down the corridor.

The hotel’s basement was originally a private wine cellar, but after being emptied, it became one of the Murder Club’s strongholds, comprising two large halls, a preparation room, and a surveillance room.

Club members coordinated with each other through special means to decide on the location for the exhibition of their "artwork" and then informed the rest that evening.

Their sites of activities varied and were scattered throughout the far suburbs; destroying the club would likely require infiltration to contact their higher-ups.

After passing through two bloody halls, Han Fei entered the preparation room, filled with various outfits and props—it was akin to an ancient execution chamber.

All the "artwork" destined for the stage was temporarily stored here, hence the "scent" inside the room was particularly strong.

"Han Fei, why don’t we wait for the police to continue the search?"

Shen Luo covered his nose and mouth; he could hardly bear the atmosphere.

"I seem to have overlooked something; there’s something strange about this room." Han Fei walked to the middle of the room, looking at the table where the murderers’ works were displayed.

Directly opposite the table on the wall hung various masks, of animals and ghosts and monsters.

Han Fei tried tapping the wall covering and found that the so-called wall was actually a piece of special fabric, with all the masks hanging on it.

Lifting the cloth, which was nearly the same color as the wall, a mirror appeared before Han Fei.

All artworks destined for the stage were first placed in front of this mirror.

"This mirror is really creepy!"

Shen Luo and Han Fei simultaneously saw their reflections in the mirror, which differed from their real appearances. Shen Luo’s face bore a giant colorful butterfly, which was quite chilling; Han Fei’s reflection was even more terrifying, showing a bloody corpse standing behind him. No matter where they went, the two seemed to be back-to-back.

Happiness is relative; Shen Luo, initially uncomfortable and frantically scratching his own face upon seeing his reflection, felt somewhat relieved after seeing Han Fei’s mirrored image.

"Han Fei, why do we look different in this mirror from reality?"

"It can reflect our selves from another world," Han Fei approached the mirror: "Someone is using the mirror for sacrifices, related to the ghosts living in the Deep World."

A map displaying the Deep World presented by Du Jing pinpointed the Death Club locations; these things had started appearing in the far suburbs of Xinhu a long time ago.

With the ability of hatred, even a butterfly couldn’t influence reality on such a grand scale, and butterflies were already at the very top of hatred.

At that thought, four words surfaced in Han Fei’s mind—unspeakable.

"Stay here and wait for me." Han Fei returned to Hall number one and brought back the parrot man, pressing him for answers until he finally spoke.

All of the Death Club’s strongholds included a mirror like this, referred to as the Death Mirror, through which people could see the true form of their souls.

This mirror was the biggest secret of the Death Club’s various strongholds, and not just anyone was privileged enough to see it.

According to the parrot man, the Death Club’s members were divided into five categories: observer members, like artists and barbecue shop owners, who would have the chance to visit the stronghold after creating a certain number of works.

A level above observer members were the official members, who could earn a score for their submissions and exchange the points for certain things.

Advancing further were the high-level members, who had the privilege of knowing the locations and times of exhibitions, and their works could be featured on stage.

The organizer of each stronghold was on the same level as the high-level members, and only at their rank were they worthy of knowing about the Death Mirror’s existence.

Above them were the core members of the club, who had only been seen once by the parrot man; they had the authority to score each piece of work, and it was up to them to decide whether a newcomer qualified to be a member.

Above the core members, there was another level, which the parrot man knew existed but did not know how to address since he had never seen them.

During the conversation with the parrot man, Han Fei realized another issue: the man’s attitude fundamentally changed after seeing the reflections of Han Fei and Shen Luo in the Death Mirror; he seemed to truly regard them as "kindred."