The More Tragic I Act The Stronger I Get My Fans Beg Me To Stop Killing Off My Roles Chapter 199

[ … words ]

Time seemed to freeze.

Only the prop blood dripping down Su Qingying’s arm fell to the ground with a steady, staccato sound.

Jiang Ci’s body still maintained the pose of being “pierced through,” rigidly lowering his head, inch by inch.

He looked at the hand that had pierced through his body.

That hand was slender, fair.

Countless times before, within the script’s setup, it had bandaged his wounds for him, handed him food, awkwardly trying to show care.

And now, it was soaked with his “blood.”

A flash of astonishment crossed Jiang Ci’s face, stained by blood.

Then came incomprehension.

He saw that numb, lifeless face.

He also saw a clear tear streak on that face.

She was hurting too.

All intense emotions, in that instant, faded away.

Jiang Ci trembled, slowly lifted his clean hand, and gently held the hand that was harming him.

The movement was delicate.

“A Li…”

A broken whisper escaped his cracked lips.

“Wake up…”

“Don’t be controlled…”

That phrase detonated inside Su Qingying’s mind.

She was just acting.

She was a professional actress.

She should have maintained A Li’s puppet-like state while being controlled.

But…

When Jiang Ci’s line, accompanied by that chest-clenching sorrow and tenderness on his face,

clearly reached her ears, she felt the rational barrier that kept her as an actress crumbling inch by inch.

He was clearly the victim, yet he was comforting the “killer” who hurt him.

An immense, tearing pain exploded from the depths of her chest.

It was A Li’s despair.

It was also Su Qingying’s heartbreak, utterly pierced at this moment.

A long-dormant mechanical voice rang in Jiang Ci’s head at the right moment.

[Detected strong heartbreak resonance from core present associate (Su Qingying) …]

[Heartbreak Value +388!]

Beside the monitor,

the confident smile on Wen Nian’s face froze completely.

She was not one of those amateurs who only saw surface-level power.

She saw clearly.

How terrifying Jiang Ci’s performance was.

It wasn’t the result of being suppressed by Luo Yu’s aura, nor some stiff reaction to preserve dignity.

It was a terrifying ability to drag everyone, cameras included, into the tragic world he had constructed.

He did not roar, nor make exaggerated gestures.

With one expression and one line, he made Luo Yu’s earlier, nearly deranged outburst look like a childish one-man show.

Wen Nian felt the victory cloak she had carefully woven for Luo Yu being plucked thread by thread by Jiang Ci in an unassuming way, until it unraveled utterly.

On the other side,

Luo Yu was completely stunned.

He folded his arms and stood offstage, the euphoric glow of his supposed “victory” still clinging to him.

But the image on the monitor plunged him into an ice pit.

Everything he had expected had not happened.

Only one thing remained—

a sorrow that seemed capable of drowning heaven and earth.

That sorrow, through the monitor’s lens, pierced the distance of space and time like a dense, impenetrable fog, shrouding the entire set and drowning him.

Making his self-satisfied “victory” look so ridiculous.

He began to doubt the powerful performance he had just delivered.

On set,

a muffled groan, suppressed to the extreme, came from Jiang Ci’s throat.

His body began to convulse violently.

It was as if everyone present could, through that blood-stained costume, clearly “hear” the demon core that sustained the half-demon within him fracturing inch by inch.

“Ho…”

He shoved Su Qingying away.

Staggering, he retreated.

One step.

Another step.

Each step left a clear, heavy “blood” footprint on the ground.

But as he retreated, those eyes filled with sorrow never left the white figure beneath the giant tree.

There were so many emotions in them.

Reluctance.

Worry.

And a deep protective desire to pull her out of this bottomless hell, yet feeling utterly powerless to do so.

He wanted to take her away.

But he himself was already a dying man.

A Li, the one being controlled—Su Qingying—still showed no expression.

She slowly withdrew the blood-soaked hand and mechanically turned.

Then expressionless, she took from the giant tree behind her the Lingxi Bow that the props team had prepared for the shaman,

her movements stiff and eerie.

She drew an arrow from the quiver.

Nocked it on the string.

Slowly drew the bow.

The arrowhead was pointed directly at the half-demon she had once poured all her love into, who was now staggering away, near death.

A desperate pursuit and kill was about to begin.

“Keep going!”

“Don’t stop!”

“All camera positions! Follow him!”

Behind the monitor, Zhang Mouyi’s suppressed, insanely excited roar, broadcast through the loudspeaker, blasted into everyone’s ears!

The entire crew sprang into motion like a precision machine suddenly activated, roaring to life!

The lighting technician responsible for the dolly, carrying heavy equipment, scrambled to keep up.

Camera A’s cinematographer hoisted the camera onto his shoulder, tightly tracking Jiang Ci’s backward steps.

The assistant director bellowed, ordering set assistants to clear a path wide enough.

“Clear the set! Quick! Move those props out of the way!”

The entire set became a chaotic stew.

Yet that chaos had its own order.

Everyone followed the director, followed the two actors who had completely merged with their roles, and went mad.

Luo Yu froze where he stood, watching this chaotic scene.

He saw Jiang Ci dragging his shattered body, struggling to retreat.

A Li, played by Su Qingying, approached step by step like an emotionless hunter.

The arrow tip remained locked onto that tottering silhouette.

Luo Yu should have been the one sitting offstage, relishing the suffering of his “enemy,” the victorious spectator.

But now, he felt like a complete outsider.

Like… a clown.

Jiang Ci staggered until he reached the edge of the open space.

He came to the Divine Tree mentioned in the script.

He leaned against the Divine Tree, gasping violently, and the “blood” on his chest stained the tree trunk behind him with a ghastly red.

He could not retreat further.

Not that he didn’t want to.

He simply couldn’t.

He raised his head and looked at the girl he loved most in this world, who was approaching him step by step.

Her face was hollow and numb.

The bow in her hands had been drawn into a full moon.

The arrow was aimed at his heart.

The next second,

it would pin him here forever.

Just like a thousand years ago.