I Am Not The God Of Drama Chapter 111
Roasted chicken feast[ … words ]
[ … words ]
The bloodstained room was now silent, leaving only Xi Renjie standing alone.
He stood there in a daze for a moment before gritting his teeth and rushing outside. Through the thick fog, the red-robed figure had already vanished into the distance, with only a few shadow centipedes scurrying after him, soon disappearing as tiny black dots.
Who was that?
Xi Renjie’s mind was consumed by this question.
That was a face he had never seen before—cold, indifferent, and seemingly even younger than himself. Judging by the attire and the mocking words, “Even a law enforcer is just human,” this person definitely wasn’t sent by Aurora City.
Could he be from outside the Aurora Domain?
But why did he save me? And how did he lure those centipedes away?
As Xi Renjie puzzled over this, more black shadows darted out from the surrounding rooftops—one, two, three… eleven, twelve… a full thirteen shadow centipedes ignored him completely, rushing past from all directions to chase after the red-robed figure.
Chen Ling glanced around, confirming no one was nearby, then plunged his dagger into his abdomen three times in quick succession.
To ensure he attracted every nearby shadow centipede while still staying ahead of them, Chen Ling pushed his speed to the limit.
As the scarlet figure flashed across the rooftops, a gust of wind swept through the streets below.
A few panicked escapees froze in their tracks.
“Did you guys just see something fly past?”
“Yeah, I think so? Something red?”
“I didn’t see anything… Are you hallucinating?”
“Doesn’t matter! Just keep running!!”
Just as they were about to resume fleeing, the fog ahead rippled—and a dense swarm of black shadows surged toward them!
At the sight of the oncoming shadow centipedes, the group nearly fainted on the spot, their legs giving out as they collapsed to their knees. They squeezed their eyes shut, bracing for death… only for the creatures to rush past them without a second glance, continuing their pursuit.
Trembling, they opened their eyes, still processing what had just happened—when the shadows at their feet suddenly twisted violently.
Several centipedes slithered out from beneath them, so close they nearly brushed their faces, screeching as they joined the chase. The fleeing survivors hadn’t even realized these things had been lurking beside them the whole time.
Similar scenes played out across the surrounding streets. The blazing torch in Chen Ling’s hand acted like a beacon, visible to every shadow centipede within three blocks. By now, he estimated he’d drawn at least thirty of them.
As for whether any stragglers remained in other areas, Chen Ling couldn’t care less. He wasn’t a god or a savior—saving this many people was already pushing his limits.
The crimson streak raced toward the edge of the district. Following the route he’d rehearsed earlier, Chen Ling’s gaze soon locked onto a three- or four-story warehouse standing alone in the wilderness.
He dashed to the warehouse entrance, unlocked it with the key, and slipped inside.
After a brief silence, the horde of shadow centipedes arrived, swarming around the exterior before pouring through the door.
The warehouse was pitch-black, unlit. The creatures slithered into every corner, searching for Chen Ling’s trail… but found nothing. Just as they were about to leave, the heavy door creaked shut behind them.
Click.
Click.
Click—!
A tiny flame flickered to life in the darkness, illuminating half of Chen Ling’s smiling face.
Every shadow centipede in the warehouse turned toward the light.
The fire cast Chen Ling’s features in sharp relief, its reflection glinting like scattered grains of rice in the gasoline and liquor pooled across the floor. The meat chickens shrieked and charged—but Chen Ling simply unscrewed a bottle of cooking wine from his bag and poured it leisurely onto the ground.
“No one’s watching here… No one will interrupt us.”
In the flickering firelight, Chen Ling’s grin widened. He licked his lips.
“Let’s see which happens first—you getting roasted… or me getting burned to death?”
His lighter spun through the air and landed on the floor.
[Audience Expectation +5]
Boom—!!
Flames erupted like a rolling crimson carpet, devouring every inch of the warehouse. Dozens of meat chickens writhed and screeched under the blistering heat, their cries nearly tearing the roof apart.
Chen Ling’s body wasn’t spared—his skin blackened visibly under the fire’s kiss. Yet he showed no sign of pain as he charged into the panicked swarm, clutching ginger, garlic, and scallions like utensils.
The warehouse had become a giant frying pan. The rich aroma of roasting meat filled the air. Amid this hellish inferno, the calamities screamed in agony—while the red-robed figure only grew more exhilarated.
So fragrant…
So delicious!!
Chen Ling tore a perfectly roasted drumstick from the nearest chicken, took a bite of charred scallion, then sank his teeth into the juicy meat. The intoxicating flavors washed over him like a baptism.
[Audience Expectation +1]
[Current Expectation: 68%]
His hands were burned beyond recognition, but that didn’t slow his feast. Fueled by [Blood Robe]’s vitality, he weaved through the flaming chickens like an elegant diner at a grand banquet.
[Audience Expectation +1]
[Audience Expectation +1]
[Audience Expectation…]
Pairs of crimson eyes materialized behind Chen Ling once more—shadowy figures seated in the void, eerily similar to the centipedes scrambling in the warehouse. The only difference? The watchers were human. The prey were insects.
The moment the audience’s gaze fell upon them, the frenzied shadow centipedes froze. They stared in terror at the crimson eyes, their bodies going utterly still even as the flames consumed them.
They stopped resisting. Stopped struggling. Curled up quietly in the inferno, letting their flesh roast into fragrant, succulent meat…
“So good… So GOOD!!”
Chen Ling’s eyes burned with that same eerie red glow as he laughed wildly, tearing into the docile chickens. His own body charred completely under the fire’s embrace…
Blackened skin. Scarlet eyes. From a distance, he might as well have been one of the audience.
Inside the blazing warehouse, a chorus of distorted whispers rose from the centipedes’ gaping maws, overlapping like a chant to some nameless entity:
“The Crimson Lord of the Abyss of Mocking Ghosts;”
“The Faceless King Who Toys with Fate.”
“The Crimson Lord of the Abyss of Mocking Ghosts… The Faceless King Who Toys with Fate… The Crimson Lord of the…”
