Chapter Eight: Dropping Houses from the Sky

"Hello, how may I assist you today?" A sweet female voice chimed from the other end of the line.

So, they had actually hired some operators—it sounded like she’d received proper training.

"I happen to need a bit of money to tide me over, and I just saw your message. That’s why I’m calling you right now," Hei Yu said, letting out a good-natured chuckle.

"Sir, may I ask how much you need?"

"Not much, not much at all…" Hei Yu replied, but deliberately withheld the actual amount.

Suddenly, a line of small text flashed before his eyes.

[Activation of Demon Clan innate skill successful.]

Hei Yu paused. Demon Clan innate skill? What marvelous thing could that be?

Another line appeared:

Received 30 resentment points from Li Yuehua...

What was this? Who was Li Yuehua? Did he know her?

He racked his brain but came up with nothing—he'd never heard the name before. A woman, apparently. Recently, he’d only interacted with two women. Was it the operator? Or perhaps the prostitute from earlier?

There was only one way to find out.

Hei Yu grinned mischievously. "Sir, we assure you your information will remain confidential."

"Two hundred million," Hei Yu suddenly declared, catching her completely off-guard.

Received 700 resentment points from Li Yuehua...

So it was indeed the operator.

He’d have to investigate the purpose of these resentment points later. He’d already accumulated quite a stockpile—why let them go to waste?

The operator hesitated, but then resumed her professional tone. "Sir, let me register your inquiry for now. Considering the amount, we’ll need your personal information for verification."

"Of course," Hei Yu agreed cheerfully.

"May I have your name, sir?"

"Li Ka-shing," Hei Yu replied offhandedly.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing, just that name you know so well. Why, is there a problem?"

Received 700 resentment points from Li Yuehua...

He stifled a laugh. This person was a veritable fountain of resentment points. He really ought to ask Zhong Kui what these points were good for. Would she be willing to trade that phone for twenty thousand points? If the phone was worth over ten thousand Great Xia yuan, and he had more than a hundred million resentment points, could he exchange them for several million in cash?

"And your occupation, Mr. Li?" Li Yuehua’s sweet voice floated over again.

"Executive Chairman of an Investment Corporation."

Received 800 resentment points from Li Yuehua...

Well, well! It was still rising—he’d thought 700 was the limit, but clearly it wasn’t.

What a wonderful person! If these could really be exchanged for money, he’d hunt her down and treat her to a meal.

Hei Yu chuckled internally. He’d lost count of how many times he’d laughed today.

But no, he had serious business to attend to. Uncle Liu’s situation was still unresolved, and then there was that assassin from the Land of Yamato.

Enough of this. Time to stop playing.

"I’ll leave it here. Goodbye."

Hei Yu hung up.

Received 900 resentment points from Li Yuehua...

Splendid! Li Yuehua was truly his benefactor. Someday, he’d have to find a way to treat her to a proper meal.

Hei Yu strode toward Uncle Liu’s house. The way was unobstructed, but when he reached the doorstep, he was completely dumbfounded.

The house had vanished into thin air.

By the faint glow of the streetlight, he could make out remnants of rebar scattered on the ground.

Gone?

Had he lost his way?

He checked the address on the neighboring house: No. 4, Seventh Lane, Dixiancun.

He was in the right place.

Who could have made such a commotion and removed the entire house?

Was it the Yamato assassin?

No, that didn’t fit—the methods he’d used against Hei Yu weren’t this bold or dramatic. The system had even combed through his memories. Hei Yu was certain the assassin had no recollection of Uncle Liu; he’d only happened to witness Hei Yu toying with the Storage Ring App on his phone.

Hei Yu suddenly felt lost. While he was still playing petty tricks, tugging at people's fate threads, someone else—possibly with a system of their own—had already stolen appliances from a burning house and now, could make an entire house disappear without a trace?

The world didn’t seem so friendly anymore. He was a doomsday system's host, after all—why were others so much more formidable?

Was it right for the villain to be this weak?

[DANGER]

Suddenly, two blood-red characters flashed across his mind.

Hei Yu glanced around but noticed nothing unusual.

Of course, he couldn’t see it—because Uncle Liu’s house was now suspended directly above his head, a hundred meters in the air.

[Forcibly requisitioning host’s body.]

The next instant, with a deafening crash, the house plummeted from the sky and landed squarely where Hei Yu was standing.

A huge cloud of dust billowed out. Windows of nearby houses shattered from the impact of flying rubble.

Several passersby, unable to dodge in time, were cut by the flying debris.

Two minutes later, the dust settled.

The uninjured passersby checked themselves, found no serious harm, then pulled out their phones to record the scene.

Locals opened their doors and stepped outside, while others, roused by the commotion, hurried over to watch.

A crowd quickly gathered, encircling the collapsed house.

"Everyone be careful, stay back—there could be a secondary collapse," cautioned a bespectacled young man, prompting the onlookers to take a few steps back.

But no one left; several people had their phones out, recording.

"There was a fire here just this morning. The owner died in the blaze, and now the whole house has suddenly collapsed," remarked an elderly man.

"Indeed! Who knows who the owner offended—misfortune never comes singly."

"When a man dies, his lamp is snuffed out. Pity his children—there’ll be no house left to inherit."

"Amitabha, Amitabha..." murmured some, hands clasped in prayer.

Suddenly, a thin trickle of blood seeped from the rubble.

A middle-aged woman, who had been chanting in the front row, cried out, "Someone’s inside! Quick, help!"

Seeing the blood, the crowd forgot all sense of danger. They shone their phone lights into the debris and soon spotted a person trapped beneath, blood visible on his body.

The young man who had been urging caution leaped into action, lifting the stone pressing on the victim’s shoulder.

Previously indifferent onlookers now joined the rescue, some clearing debris, others quickly assigning tasks: calling the hospital, the fire department, and the police.

Soon, the person buried under the rubble was pulled free—a young, slender man, barely in his twenties.

Two police officers arrived shortly thereafter; their station was nearby. One, a tall officer, took charge of the injured man, while his partner assessed the situation and promptly cordoned off the area.

Five firefighters arrived, laden with equipment, followed by two medics with a stretcher and first-aid kits.

Only ten minutes had passed since the alarm had been raised by the crowd.

Floodlights were set up for illumination. Fang Xiangdong, dressed in plain clothes, took command, while two firefighters scanned for life signs.

Fang Xiangdong had been driving home when he heard the fire engine’s siren. Driven by duty, he’d followed, hoping to lend a hand.

It was his third trip here today, though he could only recall coming twice.

He scanned the crowd: the onlookers were animated, some so eager to help that the police had to restrain them.

Fang Xiangdong glanced at the injured man—he was in bad shape, several steel rods impaled through his body, as two doctors hurried to treat him.

"Captain, no further signs of life detected on my side," reported one firefighter.

"Same here," confirmed the other.

"Understood," Fang Xiangdong replied.

Meanwhile, in the crowd, a figure in a baseball cap cast a furtive glance at the scene before quietly slipping away.