Slaying God: I, the insane and witty god

Cao Yuan felt as if all the blood in his body had been instantly drained and replaced with ice shards.

That silent warning exploded in his mind like a thunderclap.

This is not the look a child should have, nor is it the words a child should say.

He snapped back to reality, only to find that the boy in gray had already disappeared at the end of the corridor.

Without a second thought, Cao Yuan strode after him.

The rain soaked his clothes instantly, but he didn't care.

He walked around the corner of the corridor, and suddenly the view opened up before him.

This is the backyard of the orphanage. One entire wall is painted white and covered with colorful graffiti.

The children's innocent strokes depicted rockets, castles, and little people in spacesuits.

The gray-clad boy named Wu Quan was standing right under this wall.

Rain dripped down his hair, but he was oblivious, simply looking up at the wall.

"What did you mean by what you just said?" Cao Yuan walked up to him and asked in a low voice.

Wu Quan did not answer, but simply raised his thin arm and pointed to the center of the wall.

Cao Yuan's gaze followed.

In that area, there were no rockets, no castles, only three large characters neatly written in black marker: Shen Qingzhu.

These three words struck Cao Yuan's heart like a heavy hammer.

What made his heart clench even more was what was above the three characters "Shen Qingzhu"...

Someone used the same black pen to draw an open black umbrella.

The umbrella was enormous, perfectly covering the three words beneath it, as if shielding her from all the storms of the world.

The style of that umbrella stood out from all the other childish graffiti around it.

The lines are sharp, the structure is precise, and it is full of a certain stubborn power.

"Did you draw this?" Cao Yuan's voice was a little hoarse.

Wu Quan finally looked away, turned his head to look at him, and nodded.

His face was expressionless, but his eyes, which didn't look like a child's, held a depth that Cao Yuan couldn't comprehend.

Cao Yuan suddenly felt a strange fondness for this taciturn boy.

He crouched down, trying to make his line of sight level with the boy's.

"You know... Sister Shen Qingzhu?"

“She promised me,” Wu Quan finally spoke, his voice cold and clear.

"When she gets back, she'll take me to eat the best burger in town."

Cao Yuan's heart skipped a beat.

"She also promised to teach me boxing."

She said that boys need to learn to protect themselves, and... protect the people who are important to them.

As Wu Quan spoke, he looked up again at the names on the wall and the black umbrella.

The atmosphere became incredibly heavy at that moment.

"This wall is the 'Dream Wall'."

An Qingyu also came over at some point. He didn't use an umbrella, letting the rain wet his refined glasses.

He pointed to the graffiti on the wall and said, "I just asked the children, and what they drew here are the things they want to do and the people they want to become when they grow up."

"Firefighters, scientists, painters..."

He paused, his gaze falling on Wu Quan, his eyes behind his glasses becoming incredibly sharp.

"All the children drew their dreams, except for him."

An Qingyu's words were calm to the point of being cruel: "He didn't paint himself; he used an umbrella to protect the name of another person."

“This is no longer just simple worship or longing,” An Qingyu said slowly.

"It's an obsession, even... a mission."

As soon as he finished speaking, the surroundings fell into a deathly silence, with only the sound of the rain pouring down, as if even the air had frozen.

Just then, the office door was opened, and Dean Liu's voice came through.

"Hey, what are you all doing standing in the rain? Come inside, you'll catch a cold!"

Cao Yuan and An Qingyu exchanged a glance, then led Wu Quan back to the eaves.

Lin Qiye and Wu Hen's gazes immediately fell on Dean Liu, who had returned.

He changed into dry clothes and had a kind smile on his face, but his movements were subtly stiff.

Wu Hen narrowed his eyes slightly, his gaze sweeping across Dean Liu's sleeve like a knife.

"Dean Liu, where have you been?" Wu Hen asked casually.

"Oh, the drain in the backyard seems a bit clogged. I went to unclog it and got covered in mud."

Dean Liu smiled and waved his hand, explaining quite naturally, "It's nothing, I just slipped and fell."

Lin Qiye's gaze fell on the fresh mud stains on his trouser leg, then subtly moved to his left sleeve.

There, a small patch of fabric was a shade darker than the surrounding fabric.

A faint trace of blood was slowly, slowly seeping out from the edge of the rolled-up sleeve.

"You're injured," Lin Qiye said directly, his tone calm but leaving no room for argument.

Dean Liu's smile froze on his face.

Wu Hen took a half step forward, his eyes fixed on the blood-soaked cuff: "You slipped and fell, and managed to cut your arm like this?"

The atmosphere in the office instantly plummeted to freezing point.

Dean Liu's eyes darted around, as if he was about to say something more.

"Oh dear, I'm getting old, I'm no longer useful! It's just a minor injury, nothing to worry about!"

He suddenly burst into laughter, interrupting him, and slapped his thigh as if trying to cover something up.

"Are you all hungry? Wait here, I'll personally make you some noodles! Let you taste my cooking, Qingzhu used to love it the most!"

After saying that, he didn't give Lin Qiye and Wu Hen a chance to speak again.

He turned and quickly walked towards the inner room connected to the kitchen, his back view even carrying a hint of fleeing in panic.

Everyone looked at each other.

Outside the window, the rain intensified, the raindrops pounding frantically against the glass, making a dull and rapid sound, as if foreshadowing something.

Wu Hen walked to Lin Qiye's side and said in a voice that only the two of them could hear:

"He's lying."

Lin Qiye nodded, his eyes as deep as the night.

"I know," he replied calmly.

"The kitchen floor was cement, but the mud on his trouser legs was from outside."

"And it wasn't a scratch."