Myriad Heavens: Who Let Him Into the Horror Movie?-Chapter 42 : Victory and Defeat

Chapter 42: Victory and Defeat
The row of streetlights outside the alley burst one after another.
In an instant, the entire alley was swallowed by darkness.
That darkness, thicker and denser than the night itself, spread from Nai Mi’s side, rapidly devouring its way toward Li Zhen.
Countless thoughts flashed through Li Zhen’s mind—the one that prevailed was tactical retreat.
As a practitioner of the Head-Descending Curse, Li Zhen naturally knew that a sorcerer’s most powerful methods required elaborate preparation before they could be used.
That was why he had come—to witness Nai Mi’s methods for himself.
Now that he had seen them, wouldn’t withdrawing be a successful tactical retreat?
However, the faintly blurred image of the Six-Armed Demonic God suddenly pressed into his consciousness, like a mark forcibly carved deep into his awareness, driving out all other thoughts.
Li Zhen abruptly felt an intense repulsion and loathing toward the darkness before him.
“Screech—screech—screech—!”
The piercing cries of the Red-Eyed Bat shot through the darkness like sharp needles, stabbing into both Nai Mi’s and Li Zhen’s ears.
Within the black void, the image of a six-armed, bat-faced demonic idol flickered briefly across Li Zhen’s eyes.
The alley was divided cleanly into two halves by two distinctly different auras of evil.
One reeked of pure malice. The other bristled with murderous hostility.
A pale hand suddenly thrust out from Nai Mi’s side of the darkness, reaching for Li Zhen.
A bone-chilling aura seeped silently into his body.
Li Zhen felt a wave of discomfort surge through him, yet his expression did not change.
Just as that hand was about to brush his face, it suddenly jerked back, as though it had been wounded.
The Red-Eyed Bat, glowing faintly red, dove straight into the darkness.
Nai Mi instantly withdrew.
The shadowy miasma filling the alley vanished in the blink of an eye.
“Screech!”
The strange cry of the Red-Eyed Bat echoed within the alley.
No one could tell where it was.
Then, beside Nai Mi, a weak, pained scream rang out.
Moments later, the scream vanished.
It felt as though a needle had stabbed through his heart—the sharp pain spread across Nai Mi’s entire body, leaving him momentarily stiff.
The little ghost he had carefully nurtured for so long, far fiercer than an ordinary specter, was dead?
In Nanyang, that little ghost had carried out countless deeds under his control, and never once had it met an opponent capable of killing it.
Yet now it had been slain so easily…
Left with no choice, Nai Mi endured the searing pain in his chest and flung the straw effigy—pasted with Zheng Nan’s photo—into the air.
Before it even touched the ground, the effigy scattered midair into bits of straw.
Seeing his methods utterly ineffective against that bizarre, evil bat, Nai Mi’s face grew even gloomier, and unease crept into his heart.
His most terrifying technique required the opponent’s hair to perform—and he hadn’t collected any from this opposing sorcerer. He hadn’t even prepared the area in advance. Almost all of his spells were useless now, leaving him only his little ghost to forcibly suppress the enemy.
Though his opponent’s mastery of the Head-Descending Curse was clearly inferior, that evil bat was extremely strange. Nai Mi had tried several methods, all to no effect.
He had already realized how terrifying that bat was.
And the other man was exceedingly cunning—striking first through ambush to seize the advantage.
Even so, that bat alone wasn’t enough to keep him from killing.
The creature was dreadful, yes—but there was always a chance to strike down its master.
The problem was that something about his opponent’s body also felt off, which explained why his earlier attacks had failed.
Knowing the situation was turning against him, Nai Mi chose to retreat without hesitation.
He tossed a few foul-smelling objects into the alley.
Thick, stinking smoke billowed rapidly through the narrow passage.
It was already dark—now, shrouded by the smoke, even reaching out one’s hand yielded nothing but pitch black.
Nai Mi’s venomous laughter drifted out from within the smoke.
“What are you laughing at?” Li Zhen frowned, halting before the haze.
From the foul mist came Nai Mi’s voice: “I’m laughing because you’re about to die. Instead of finding a good place to bury yourself, you actually came to oppose me!”
Li Zhen sneered. “Trying to scare me? Learned that tactic from me, did you?”
Nai Mi’s voice grew fainter. “You’re too greedy for progress—you don’t even know you’re killing yourself.”
Li Zhen chuckled. “Practicing the Head-Descending Curse, and you talk about greed for progress?”
“It seems you really understand nothing!” Nai Mi said gleefully. “You’ve practiced for at least three years. The evil spirit has already begun to erode your soul. What else can you do but wait to die?”
Li Zhen said nothing for a while.
Nai Mi was wrong about one thing—Li Zhen hadn’t practiced for three years. Barely a month, in truth.
But Nai Mi was right about another—his method of visualization, focusing on the demonic idol, was likely the “evil spirit corroding the soul” that Nai Mi mentioned.
After a pause, Li Zhen deliberately countered, “Didn’t you also fall into demonic ways by inviting evil spirits into your body? How are you any different from me?”
“You really don’t understand.” Nai Mi’s voice faded to a whisper. “I’ll keep killing. I’ll make you watch every one of them die in the cruelest way—unless you can… stay with them… every… single… moment…”
Li Zhen stood still for a long time.
No one knew how much time passed before his body suddenly wavered. He braced a hand against the wall, bending over as dry heaves wracked his body.
His stomach was nearly empty; nothing came up except a faint metallic taste of blood.
The pain in his abdomen, which had once only throbbed when pressed, now spread across all his internal organs.
More severe, though, was the pain in his head.
It felt as though he had been struck with a heavy hammer—dizzy, nauseous, unbearably unwell.
When facing Nai Mi, his composure had been little more than a façade.
Though Li Zhen had gained the upper hand by resorting to a less honorable sneak attack, he had also suffered injuries.
If Nai Mi hadn’t been intent on vengeance—if he hadn’t avoided a mutual death—Li Zhen would most likely have been the one to lose.
Such formidable Head-Descending sorcery… but that only made it more interesting.
“Screech…”
The Red-Eyed Bat flew out of the acrid smoke, landing on Li Zhen’s shoulder. Its body carried the faint scent of blood.
“I gave you plenty of time,” Li Zhen muttered, his voice trembling as he reached out to stroke its head. “And you still didn’t find him?”
The Red-Eyed Bat shook its head, clearly displeased.
“Eating his little ghost isn’t a total loss, at least.”
Li Zhen forced a weak smile, then slowly turned and walked out of the alley.
Nai Mi’s mastery of the Head-Descending Curse was certainly above that of Ma Gusu—perhaps the most powerful practitioner Li Zhen had yet encountered.
That was the conclusion of his test.
Even the Red-Eyed Bat, after devouring a vengeful ghost and undergoing transformation, had little effect on Nai Mi’s mind—only disturbing it for a brief moment.
Still, like Ma Gusu, no matter how strong a sorcerer was, he was still human. Once killed, he was truly dead.
If this had been in Nanyang, Li Zhen would never have rashly confronted such an opponent.
But this was Hong Kong Island, not Nanyang.
Nai Mi, away from his home ground, was like a tiger with its fangs pulled—his foundation gone, far easier to deal with.
Li Zhen’s thoughts turned inward.
The soul eroded by evil spirits…
He recalled the image of the Six-Armed Demonic God suddenly surfacing in his mind earlier, seizing control of his emotions. His expression grew contemplative.
Had it not been for that influence, he would have retreated when the chance arose—unharmed.
He had long suspected there would be consequences to visualizing a demonic idol; thus, he wasn’t surprised.
His illness was troublesome enough already—what did a little demonic corrosion matter? As long as he survived, he was confident he would find a solution in time.
Still, judging from Nai Mi’s words, the problem might be more serious than he thought.
As an enemy, Nai Mi’s words couldn’t be trusted completely.
And besides, what did “soon to die” even mean?
Nai Mi’s “soon” and Li Zhen’s “soon” were not the same thing.
To Nai Mi, half a year might be soon; to Li Zhen, that was already a long time.
Furthermore, since Nai Mi could instantly discern his condition, perhaps he also knew a way to fix it.
The art of the Head-Descending Curse needed growth—and that required exchange among practitioners.
Hopefully, Nai Mi would possess that level of generosity…
Otherwise, if he hindered the art’s progress, that would be Nai Mi’s fault.