I Am Not The God Of Drama Chapter 118

[ … words ]

The moment those two words were spoken, Han Meng froze in place.

Initially, Han Meng had assumed the other party was a “Calamity.” But the moment the figure spoke, he hesitated… No, it was said that among Calamities, there were rare, highly intelligent beings—though such Calamities were of an extremely high rank, at least seventh-tier or above.

However, since the other party was capable of communication, it suggested they harbored no strong hostility toward him. And in the Gray Realm, Calamities that held any goodwill toward humans were practically nonexistent.

Thus, Han Meng was more inclined to believe that the other party was human.

After a brief hesitation, Han Meng was about to step aside—the passage was far too narrow for two people to walk side by side.

Just then, a rustling sound came from behind.

Han Meng turned his head and saw the shadowy centipedes clinging to the cliff walls retreating in unison… as if deliberately avoiding that flash of crimson. In the blink of an eye, the black tide had receded back into the crevices of the rocks.

In the deathly silence of the canyon, only he and the figure draped in scarlet opera robes remained, standing face to face.

So, that “move aside” hadn’t been directed at him?

Human or Calamity—Han Meng could no longer tell. The crimson-robed figure was undoubtedly the most mysterious and eerie existence he had ever encountered. Just standing there, it embodied an endless enigma.

At this moment, Chen Ling was equally stunned.

His original intention had been to ask Han Meng to step aside so he could deal with the pursuing “fodder.” Yet, the moment he spoke, the creatures retreated on their own… Back in District Three, they hadn’t been nearly this “polite.”

Both men fell into contemplation.

In the suffocating silence, Han Meng felt the pitch-black mask staring at him grow increasingly unsettling. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, the scene before him blurred, and his body swayed before collapsing to the ground.

Chen Ling was taken aback. Only then did he notice the steady trickle of blood seeping from Han Meng’s wounds, pooling into a murky puddle beneath him at some point.

He had lost too much blood.

“…Lucky you ran into me,” Chen Ling murmured under the black mask. “You saved me once. Now I’ve saved you… We’re even.”

—

Shhh—

Shhh—

The sound of scraping gravel came from below, as though something was being dragged across the ground.

Han Meng’s consciousness gradually returned. After a few seconds, he realized he was being hauled along the blackened earth like a corpse.

Instinctively, his hand clawed at the ground, trying to push himself up and draw his gun, but excruciating pain erupted from all over his body. With a stifled groan, he was forced to stop moving… At the same time, the figure dragging him halted.

Under the lead-gray clouds drifting across the sky, the crimson-robed figure turned its head calmly to look at him.

“You’re awake.”

The low voice carried no emotion, and paired with the pitch-black smiling mask, it exuded an indescribable eeriness.

Releasing the grip on Han Meng’s collar, the figure let him slump fully onto the ground. Han Meng frowned, struggling to prop himself up on his elbows, but the voice spoke again, “I wouldn’t recommend standing right now. If your wounds reopen, you’ll die.”

Han Meng’s face was as pale as paper. Only now did he notice that the dozen or so bone spikes embedded in his body had been removed at some point. His coat had been torn into strips and crudely wrapped around his injuries to staunch the bleeding.

Given his original condition, leaving the wounds untreated would have meant bleeding out.

Han Meng lifted his head to look at the figure, his voice hoarse, “Who are you?”

The black mask stared back at him, offering no answer.

After a long silence, Han Meng asked a second question, “Why did you save me?”

A moment later, the crimson-robed figure let out a soft chuckle and replied in an offhand tone, “It’s rare to come across a promising seedling on the [Judgment] path… It’d be a shame to let you die here.”

[Audience Expectation Points +3]

Of course, Chen Ling couldn’t tell the truth. When Han Meng asked that question, he had to admit a mischievous impulse arose in him—no, more accurately, he was striving to make the “plot” more engaging.

The Eighth Rule of Chen’s Directing Principles:

Information asymmetry is one of the sources of satisfaction in a plot. When the audience observes a conflict from an omniscient perspective while the characters lack full awareness, they naturally immerse themselves in the scene and anticipate further developments. If the characters involved in the information gap already have inherent dramatic tension, the sense of anticipation intensifies.

Han Meng narrowed his eyes slightly, a glint of suspicion and speculation flickering in his gaze as he studied the crimson-robed figure…

“You’re a Fusionist,” he declared.

Chen Ling’s eyes behind the mask narrowed. “Oh?”

“You have a human form and the ability to communicate, and you bear no hostility toward me—so you’re likely not a Calamity native to the Gray Realm. Yet, you frightened off those Calamities with just a few words, meaning there must be something about you that makes them wary… The only explanation is that you’re a Fusionist, and the Calamity you’ve merged with is of a high rank.”

Han Meng was, after all, the Chief Enforcer of District Three. Right now, he didn’t seem like someone who had just narrowly escaped death, nor was he intimidated by Chen Ling’s words. Instead, he dissected everything that had just happened with razor-sharp logic, calmly delivering his conclusion.

Han Meng’s deduction took Chen Ling by surprise, but upon reflection, it wasn’t entirely unexpected… After all, this was Han Meng.

When Chen Ling first arrived in this era and was doing his utmost to conceal the existence of the “Audience,” Han Meng had been the only one in the entire law enforcement system who had nearly caught him… Chen Ling still vividly remembered the pressure he’d felt from Han Meng’s terrifying attention to detail and deductive prowess.

“So what?” Chen Ling couldn’t be bothered to argue. Like a magician, he produced a pistol out of thin air and pressed the barrel against Han Meng’s forehead.

Behind the black smiling mask, his voice was icy and devoid of emotion, “Are you going to arrest me… Enforcer?”

Han Meng met his gaze calmly.

A moment later, he spoke again, “I don’t like my fate being in someone else’s hands.”

“So?”

“Even though you saved me, right now… I’d prefer if you lowered that gun first.”

Before the words had fully left his mouth, the strands of mental energy Han Meng had recovered during his unconsciousness were rapidly depleted. A sharp glint flashed in his eyes as he struck at point-blank range!