Desperate people, accept the seed of my soul!

The moment the information about his ability was etched into his consciousness, Shen Qinghou felt his ears suddenly become incredibly sensitive.

He could hear the sound of dust falling to the ground, the whistling of the wind through the window cracks, the thud of Gu Yan's leather shoes on the steps as he went downstairs, and the click of the lighter in the bodyguard's pocket.

He lay on the ground, twitching his fingers. The two bodyguards holding him down were still chatting, saying that they would drag him to the police station later, and this time he would at least get a three- to five-year sentence. Young Master Gu would definitely give them a bonus.

Shen Qinghou suddenly opened his eyes, letting out a beast-like roar. Two invisible sound waves exploded from his throat, like two sharp knives, instantly piercing the temples of the two bodyguards.

Before the two bodyguards could even groan, their bodies stiffened abruptly, and they collapsed to the ground, their eyes wide open, black blood flowing from their seven orifices, and they were no longer breathing.

The pressure on Shen Qinghou's back disappeared, and he suddenly propped himself up. The bandage on his wrist was soaked with blood, dripping onto the ground with a pattering sound.

He staggered to the corner of the music room, grabbed the old guqin that had been thrown on the ground, three of its seven strings were broken, and the remaining four were intact.

Clutching his zither, he stumbled to the top of the stairs and looked down—Gu Yanzhi had already reached the lobby on the first floor and was about to push open the door to leave, with two bodyguards following behind him.

Shen Qinghou stood at the corner of the stairs on the third floor, placed the guqin on the steps, and pressed his fingers hard on the remaining four strings.

His wrist was still aching; every movement of the torn tendon felt like being cut with a knife, but he seemed oblivious to the pain.

His fingers plucked the strings hard.

Instead of clear piano music, an invisible sound wave exploded along the stair railing, surging into the lobby on the first floor like a tidal wave.

The first bodyguard was hit first; the sound wave pierced his skull. He clutched his head with both hands, letting out a piercing scream. Blood flowed from his seven orifices, and he collapsed to the ground, convulsing twice before going still.

The second bodyguard turned to run, but the sound waves caught up with him. He was sent flying like he'd been hit by a truck, crashing into the wall of the lobby, his brains splattering everywhere.

Wherever the sound waves passed, all the bodyguards collapsed to the ground, their bodies convulsing violently, and they quickly lost their breath.

The moment the screams erupted from behind him, Gu Yanzhi abruptly stopped in his tracks.

He instinctively turned around, his gaze passing over the shoulders of the two bodyguards, and saw two corpses lying on the stairs, black blood flowing from their seven orifices, leaving glaring marks on the ground, and brain matter and bone fragments splattered on the walls.

impossible.

That's impossible.

Shen Qinghou was clearly under control, with two battle-hardened bodyguards holding him down. He shouldn't even have the strength to get up, so how could he possibly kill someone?

Gu Yanzhi's mind went blank, and he stood rooted to the spot, unable to move. The bodyguards' taunts still echoed in his ears, saying they would drag Shen Qinghou to the police station to exchange for a bonus, and that the good-for-nothing's tendons were broken, making it difficult for him to even hold a pen, and that he couldn't cause any trouble at all.

A soft "clang" was the sound of the piano mallet falling to the ground.

Gu Yanzhi suddenly looked up and saw Shen Qinghou holding the old guqin with three broken strings, standing at the top of the stairs on the third floor. Blood was streaming down his face, staining half of his face red. His eyes were so red that they looked like they were about to bleed, staring at him intently, like a ghost that had just crawled out of hell.

"You...you motherfucker..." Gu Yanzhi's teeth chattered uncontrollably, and he couldn't even utter a complete sentence.

Shen Qinghou pressed his fingers on the remaining four strings of the zither, the blood on his fingertips sliding down the strings and dripping onto the surface of the instrument. He then pressed the strings again with a sudden thud!

"Gu Yanzhi! You're going to die!!"

"Buzz—"

The moment the strings were plucked, an invisible sound wave crashed down the stair railing. The remaining two bodyguards didn't even have time to scream before their bodies stiffened abruptly, black blood gushing from their seven orifices, and they collapsed to the ground.

Blood splattered onto Gu Yanzhi's white leather shoes, burning him so much that he took a step back.

it is true.

It's not a hallucination.

That piece of trash he trampled underfoot, that poor wretch who didn't even deserve to kneel at the school gate and kowtow to him for mercy, actually killed four of his bodyguards.

Fear, like a cold snake, crawled up his spine, making it hard for him to breathe.

He could even hear his heart pounding wildly, thump-thump-thump, as if it were about to burst out of his chest.

"Help!!!"

Gu Yanzhi let out a distorted roar, turned around and ran towards the front door. His leather shoes slipped on the smooth marble floor, and he fell forward. His palm hit the cold ground, scraping a large patch of skin, and blood seeped out. He ignored it, got up, and continued to rush towards the door.

The sound of the strings behind me started again.

"Buzz!"

The sound wave slammed into the carved door behind him, and the heavy solid wood door instantly exploded. Wood chips and shards of glass rained down on him, cutting his cheek. He reached up and wiped his face; his hand was covered in blood.

He dared not look back, dared not stop, dared not even breathe, and ran out as fast as he could. The wind blew his shirt against his back, and cold sweat soaked through the fabric, chilling him to the bone.

Shen Qinghou rushed down the stairs carrying his zither, each step making a thud on the ground. The bandage on his wrist was completely soaked with blood, which dripped down his fingertips, leaving a broken red line behind him.

He couldn't see the corpses scattered on the ground, the blown-open door, or the flying wood chips and broken glass.

He could only see Gu Yanzhi's back.

That bastard who stole his championship, broke his tendons, and killed his mother is now running ahead like a stray dog.

He let out a low growl, like the howl of a wounded beast on the verge of death, and pressed his fingers hard on the strings again.

"Buzz—"

The sound waves chased after him along the ground, causing the dust to rise and the glass in the corridor to shatter one after another. Shards of glass fell down, hitting his head and shoulders, but he was oblivious, focused only on chasing forward.

When Gu Yanzhi rushed out of the teaching building, there was a taxi parked on the side of the road. The driver was looking down at his phone when Gu Yanzhi pulled open the passenger door.

"Drive! Drive now!!!" Gu Yanzhi roared, his voice cracking, as he reached out to grab the driver's arm, his nails digging into the other's flesh.

The driver was startled by the man's blood-covered face and instinctively stepped on the gas. The taxi shot off like an arrow, its tires screeching as they rubbed against the ground.

Gu Yanzhi slumped in the passenger seat, panting heavily, cold sweat dripping down his chin and soaking the seat.

He turned to look at the entrance of the teaching building. Shen Qinghou stood on the steps, holding his zither, motionless, like a sculpture soaked in blood.