Deviant: No Longer Human

"See?! Nothing! All this talk of restricted, bullshit! Look, I'm insi-"

FLASH!

A white arc split the night.

And in the same heartbeat, Zhao Yichun was no longer whole.

His laughter choked mid-word as his body severed into a thousand neat, glistening pieces. Flesh, silk jacket, gold chain, everything diced into slivers that collapsed in a wet, meaty rain. The ground drank his arrogance in crimson rivers.

The crowd screamed.

Chen Yufeng gagged, falling back on his ass. "H-Holy shit!"

Tang Wei's face drained pale. "He didn't even make it ten steps…"

Long Qimeng still couldn't move. Her lips parted, trembling. 'I would've… I would've walked in too."

The police chief adjusted his cap with a grimace. His voice was low, almost pitying:

"Restricted means restricted. Some places aren't for the living to trespass."

The police chief didn't hesitate, he barked orders, grabbed the keys, and within minutes every car was being hauled back toward the city. The brats, pale and trembling, were herded away.

But before leaving, their eyes fell on the nameplate of the mansion.

Silence.

Breath caught in their cold throats.

"…No way…" Chen Yufeng whispered, voice hoarse.

Tang Wei's lips trembled. "…This… this house belongs to...."

No one dared finish the sentence. They exchanged terrified glances, fumbling for their phones. Calls went unanswered. The silence on the other end was worse than rejection.

"Fuck… did our families abandon us already?"

It didn't matter. Even as the rich heirs slunk back to their estates, they found no safety there. Their families were already packing bags, fleeing with gold and passports, trying to outrun something they couldn't even name.

But it was too late.

Once a hornet's nest is provoked, nothing can save you.

That night, Luo Yang tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Long Qimeng lay awake in her villa, her mind screaming. Both woke with the same dread in their guts.

And then came the news.

Broadcasts and messages, spreading like wildfire.

In the main downtown of Beijing, the bodies of Mayor Wang and his son had been found. Not killed cleanly, not hidden away.

Nailed alive.

The walls of a great boulevard were lined with crucifixes of flesh. The Chen, Wang, and Zhou heirs. Dozens of them. Nailed through bone and tendon, twitching, moaning, but alive enough to scream.

And above them, a blood-smeared notice scrawled:

"For every passerby, one stone. If you do not throw… you will die."

At first, people thought it was a sick joke. Until a man in the crowd refused. A second later, his throat split open on its own. His body crumpled.

After that, no one hesitated. Rocks flew. The nailed heirs screamed as the city they once lorded over pelted them to death.

When investigators raided the family compounds, what they found sickened even hardened men.

The women of all age, mothers, wives, daughters, servants, were unrecognizable. Naked, brutalized, corpses torn open.

Bleeding from between their legs, as though death had not come fast enough. None were spared.

Some had been skinned, their hides stretched and hung from chandeliers. Others dangled from the ceiling, their own intestines knotted into ropes.

Officers vomited on the spot.... Some fainted.

Over a thousand lay dead across the three households.

This wasn't just murder... It was a message.

A message loud enough that Qing Dynasty itself shook.

Reporters tried to question the Emperor of Qing Dynasty. Ministers whispered behind closed doors. But every query was met with silence.

As if even a wrong word could mark them next.

The city buzzed with one speculation, whispered in fear:

"…Who else could it be…?"

All of this happened next day,

yet Wang Jiarong knew nothing.

Because in present... She had left the madness of the chase behind, stepping instead into the villa with him.

At first glance, it looked modern. Glass walls, polished marble, subtle yellow lighting humming faintly against the quiet. But the deeper she went, the more it unsettled her.

Dead of night. Waterfall roaring at its back.

And yet something about this place screamed strange, like the air itself bent differently inside these walls.

Her steps faltered as she trailed behind Wang Xiao. Her head was still heavy with alcohol, her chest tight from the drug burning in her blood. She stumbled into the lounge and blinked at the sight waiting there.

A blonde woman. Tall, striking, her blue eyes widening as they landed on Wang Xiao.

"Ah?" Sophia's voice slipped out soft, startled. She rushed to him instinctively.

Wang Jiarong's frown deepened instantly, her drunken bitterness bubbling up. "Another one of your mistresses…" she thought, lips twitching with resentment.

The words weren't spoken aloud, but her face showed enough.

SLAP!

Her head snapped sideways, cheek burning.

"!!" Wang Jiarong gasped, stunned, as heat rushed to her slender face.

When she turned back, Wang Xiao's expression was calm. Too calm, as though nothing had happened.

"Sophia," he said evenly, not even sparing Wang Jiarong another glance, "take her upstairs. My room. I'll be back in two hours. Make sure she sobers up. And make sure she doesn't act like a fool again."

"…."

Sophia froze for a second, caught between obedience and awkwardness. Then she nodded quickly. "Yes."

She reached for Wang Jiarong's hand.

The elder sister of Wang Xiao was still staring at him in disbelief, lips trembling, her cheek stinging. But she said nothing as Sophia tugged gently, dragging her upstairs, her heels clicking faintly against the marble steps.

The waterfall's roar outside echoed like applause for her humiliation.

____

Two hours later…

3 a.m. The villa was silent, save for the faint roar of the waterfall outside. Wang Xiao's footsteps echoed as he crossed the doorway into the vast hall.

Thud!

Something slammed into him from behind.

His brow lifted. "Why are you here?"

A playful voice chimed behind his ear. "Because… this place is mine?"

Arms coiled around his neck, a lithe body twisting with absurd flexibility before sliding around to face him, grinning wide. Blonde hair brushing his cheek, teeth flashing.

Anran.

The only woman alive reckless enough to hold to him like that without fear of losing her teeth.

"Hehe…" she giggled, eyes glinting. "By the way, Sophia called me. Said she was too scared here. What's this, are you on some kind of spree today? Beating women?"

She pointed toward the side wall.

Chains rattled.

A pale figure with white hair hung there, wrists shackled. Elaria, the one Wang Xiao had dragged here earlier.

His gaze darkened. "And what if I am? You here to stop me?"

Anran tilted her head, humming. "Uh-huh. In fact, I've got a better idea."

She hopped down, heels clicking against the floor, and darted behind the couch. When she emerged, Wang Xiao blinked.

A full-blown medieval torture armory. Racks of hooks, clamps, iron masks, spikes, and blades glittered under the soft villa lights.

She hefted a massive grass-cutting scissor, opening and closing it with a crisp... shnk-shnk. Her grin stretched wider.

"So?" she asked sweetly. "Who's first?"

Wang Xiao stared, his expression bewildered. He could never tell if she was serious or just playing. But one thing was certain: if he told her to slice someone in half right now… she might.

"Not today." His voice was flat as he turned, heading upstairs.

Anran's pout followed him. Then her face lit as if remembering.

"Oh! Almost forgot!" she called out, leaning over the couch. "Your daughters stirred up some mess back home. Should I drag them here for a beating?"

Wang Xiao paused mid-step, nearly tripping.

His brows twitched. Was she offering to help… or just itching to do the beating herself?

This villa was indeed Anran's domain. Not just the walls, not just the land, everything here was hers, run under Wang Xiao's name but spun by her hands.

She had turned it into her residence.

While most of her time revolved around spying near his home in Shanghai, she kept this place alive through Sophia, the so-called princess of the Vatican, reduced here to little more than a maid, tasked with keeping the villa spotless.

And Anran… she was a creature of multitasking. Surveillance, coordination, managing funds, laundering properties, balancing the treasury, and still having the leisure to show up here just to annoy him. Wang Xiao sometimes wondered if she spread herself too thin, but then again, her efficiency was.... Irksome.

Terrifying, and unmatched.

Upstairs, behind the shut wooden door, a shiloutte sat on the edge of the bed like a criminal waiting for her sentence.