Chapter Fifty: Twilight Bloodline

Page 1/3

Now, focus on cultivating diligently and repay that 5 million yuan. This is the first task your master has assigned to you. Once you’ve repaid the 5 million, new guidance will naturally appear.
Love, Dad.

“Damn it, I really owe 5 million...” Zhang Deshuai felt a tempest raging inside him. For the first time, he truly understood the helpless anguish of wanting to cry but having no tears.

He stood up expressionlessly, grabbed the thin book, opened the window, and was about to throw it out.

With a soft “plop,” Zhang Deshuai closed the window again, still expressionless.

“Forget it, might as well give it a shot. Whether what Dad said is true or false, the 5 million debt is very real.”

He took a deep breath, returned to the sofa, and stared at the yellowed, worn book. On the cover were three large golden characters: Alchemy of Gold.

Opening the title page, he saw a crooked line of writing: “Alchemy of Gold—The more embarrassing you make yourself, the bigger the fiasco, the more money you get!”

Staring at the childish scrawl, Zhang Deshuai fell silent for a moment, then stood up with a look of utter disbelief. He grabbed the book, opened the window, and without hesitation tossed it out.

The thin book fluttered in the evening breeze, spinning twice in the air before landing precisely in the trash bin downstairs.

“Looks like I have to leave this city,” Xiao Yifei decided on the spot, packing all the valuables in the house into a suitcase.

As he packed, memories of those people and their methods, and the words of the delicate-looking man, sent a chill down his spine.

“Seems like... there’s no escaping this.”

Zhang Deshuai collapsed weakly on the sofa, sleepless through the night.

Page 2/3

The next day, Zhang Deshuai dragged his exhausted body to school. Throughout the journey, he felt like a frightened kitten.

Especially at the crossroads, watching the bustling crowd, he kept imagining a figure in black approaching from the side and stabbing him in the waist.

But anyone who had been through last night’s ordeal would find it hard to stay calm.

Fortunately, his desk was in a secluded corner. Sitting next to him was Xiao Ting, a night owl who surfed the internet at night and caught up on sleep during the day. Zhang Deshuai sat there, dazed and restless.

“How am I supposed to come up with 300,000 yuan a month as a high schooler?”

Thinking of those men’s faces and the cold, murderous gaze of that delicate youth, Zhang Deshuai shivered involuntarily.

“Hey, what the hell are you doing? Fiddling with chicken wraps? You’re shaking all over.”

Xiao Ting buried his head in his school uniform, grumbling impatiently.

“Old Xiao, how the hell can I gather 300,000 yuan a month?” Zhang Deshuai stared blankly ahead, his mouth opening and closing like a fish hauled from the water.

“Don’t space out in broad daylight. With your little frame, morning blood donation, afternoon sperm donation, and a gamble at night—if you’re lucky, maybe you can make it,” Xiao Ting said without looking up.

“Do you know the phone numbers for the blood bank and sperm donation center?” Xiao Yifei quickly asked.

“...”

Xiao Ting lifted his dark-rimmed eyes in disbelief.

“Man, you really got into trouble.”

“Yeah…”

“What about your dad? I thought he was pretty capable, always dressed in a suit.”

“Dead.”

“... Good night.”

The second period in the morning was PE class. With the year-end physical exam approaching, everyone gathered by the sandy field to line up and practice long jump.

When it was Zhang Deshuai’s turn, his mind was elsewhere, and after a sleepless night, he jumped mechanically forward only to feel his legs go weak, collapsing in a humiliating faceplant.

He lay there in the mud, trembling like a sesame-coated pastry, then flopped limply onto the ground.

“Hahahahaha...” The surrounding laughter crashed over him like a tide.

Because of his name, Zhang Deshuai had often been mocked behind his back, but usually, people held back out of decency. Now, seeing him so disheveled, the laughter grew louder and more relentless.

At that moment, Zhang Deshuai felt something awaken inside him, as if a warm current was coursing through his veins.

“Old Zhang, what’s wrong? Hey, stop laughing—he’s not feeling well today.”

Xiao Ting pushed through the crowd to help him up from the sandpit.

Seeing his friend’s muddy, miserable state, Xiao Ting got him excused and took him to the sink beside the restroom to wash his face.

The cool water helped Zhang Deshuai clear his head a bit.

“Hey, what’s going on with you today? Did someone put a curse on you?”

Page 3/3

Xiao Ting lit a cigarette, squatting at the restroom door, looking at the drenched Zhang Deshuai with a puzzled expression.

“…Nothing.”

“Crazy.”

Xiao Ting laughed and cursed, then turned into the restroom. “I’m going in to pee. Wait here, don’t wander off.”

Zhang Deshuai leaned over the sink, dumbfounded, submerging his head under the faucet again, trying desperately to clear his thoughts.

“Maybe I should just keep living like this a few more days, then sneak away in the night. If... if only there really was some kind of technique in this world.”

Just as he thought this, his phone vibrated in his pocket.

His heart jolted violently.

“No... it can’t be…”

His trembling hand pulled the phone out. On the unlocked screen appeared a bank SMS notification.

“Your XXX Bank debit card received a transfer of 5000 yuan at 15:03 on October 5, 2018. Current balance: 6725.2 yuan.”

Zhang Deshuai felt the blood in his body freeze. Cold sweat trickled down his forehead like writhing worms, dripping with a faint “plop” into the sink.

“The book... that book...”

Xiao Yifei turned on the tap again, washed his face fiercely, grabbed the phone, and dashed wildly toward the school gate.

“Damn, Bolt!”

Xiao Ting had just stepped out of the restroom and saw the figure sprinting with wet hair flying, dumbfounded.

“No way—that’s my brother!”

The school was usually strict. The sensor doors remained closed during class hours, only opened by the security guard’s remote. Without a leave note, no one was allowed through.

But Zhang Deshuai had no time for such rules. Like a tiger descending from the mountain, he lunged toward the sensor door, bracing himself on the frame and leaping through.

His thin figure, dripping wet hair, mud-stained shirt, and the rust spots on the sensor door traced a pitiful, awkward arc.