The first eting between Bologue and Sai Zong was far from pleasant, one might even call it a nightmare. To Bologue, the Undying Club was nothing short of a haven for lunatics and madn, and Sai Zong was undoubtedly the most crazed among them.
No way around it, anyone would feel that warped sense of absurdity after being pounced on by Sai Zong dressed like a dog, not to ntion when Sai Zong began imitating a dog’s posture and started relieving himself.
In Bologue’s understanding, if one were to classify the Undead by the degree of their twisted ntality, Sai Zong was undeniably the most distorted, the hardest to comprehend.
Yet, this sa fellow sohow, through the disordered tiline, seed to have broken free from the constraints of the Fantasy Species, indirectly providing Bologue with a hint; Sai Zong then mysteriously vanished... By the Undead’s conception of ti, he wasn’t missing, rely out for a stroll.
In any case, after that, Bologue developed an endless curiosity about Sai Zong, wanting to understand what this seemingly wise fool was thinking.
As for when Sai Zong might return? Bologue was prepared to wait for ten years.
Just as Bologue was about to forget these matters, around the ti of the Blight Desolation incident, Sai Zong suddenly returned. It was said that the first to discover him was Serey. Soon after, Sai Zong disappeared in the stairway. In the months that followed, others would occasionally see Sai Zong too, but no one spoke up, assuming Sai Zong was simply caught up in his role-play.
Indeed, after years of playing the dog, Sai Zong took on a new role—impersonating a cat. His actions, like a cat, were elusive and mysterious. Everyone had little to say, except for Wei’Er.
"You bastard actually tried to lick my fur!"
One day, Wei’Er was swearing and chasing after Sai Zong, driving him deep into the stairway.
Whenever Sai Zong appeared, Bologue was never present. Upon hearing such news, Bologue greatly admired Sai Zong’s dedication—if playing a cat, one must mimic all its habits.
Ridiculous, eccentric, insane—these were common words used to describe Sai Zong, yet in particular monts, Bologue found Sai Zong to be frighteningly mysterious.
Such as when Sai Zong finished playing and turned into a "human."
"Sai Zong?"
Bologue looked at the figure sitting on the corridor floor with his back to him and called out Sai Zong’s na. Sai Zong heard Bologue’s call, planting his hands on the ground, slowly turning his head.
Wearing a bulky cat plush suit, Sai Zong appeared as though he’d just clocked off from an amusent park shift, clashing with the corridor’s mysterious elegance.
Just as Bologue was about to speak further, Sai Zong moved.
Sai Zong first used the strength of his hands to prop up his upper body, slightly leaning back. Then, his feet slowly slid forward, positioning behind his hips, knees slightly bent to absorb the impact of falling. With the support of hands and subtle adjustnt of feet, he gradually sat up straight, raising his head high.
Bologue couldn’t help but feel tense, vaguely sensing what would happen next.
Grasping the silly cat plush head, Sai Zong exerted slight force and tore it off. He flexed his shoulders and neck, then lifted his head entirely, locking eyes with Bologue.
It was the first ti Bologue had seen Sai Zong so clearly.
Sai Zong had a face completely distinct from his ludicrous outward appearance.
That face held a familiar aura; Bologue once possessed this aura and had seen it countless tis on others’ faces.
Sai Zong’s face exuded the weathered gravitas of years and the agony of war-torn anguish, skin rough and dry, devoid of sheen and elasticity, marred by dark yellow scars.
Though he seed not that old, his eyes had long lost their clarity and vigor, clouded in pale gray, overwheld by a world drowned in ruins and rubble, deep lines between his brows nearly rging, his expression unremarkable.
His nose bore the heavy burden of war, now sowhat bent, his chin scattered with sparse stubble, resembling gnarled dead branches, lips cracked and pallid, slightly parted, exhaling with imnse difficulty.
"Bo...Bologue."
Sai Zong spoke, but it seed he hadn’t spoken for too long. His words stumbled and were unclear, as if describing an unfamiliar topic.
In his speech, so letters were repeated, so words even misspoken. At tis his pace was swift, at other tis painstakingly slow, necessitating repeated listening.
"Bologue Lazarus."
Finally, Sai Zong smoothly uttered Bologue’s na, as if his linguistic functions had been restored.
Yet Sai Zong’s face remains sullen, lifeless. He turns sideways, raises his hand, and gestures to Bologue.
"Follow ."
With the plush head in his embrace, Sai Zong heads towards the corridor’s far end, while Bologue, frozen in place, feels waves of turmoil in his mind.
For a mont, Bologue finds himself unable to decide what to do—this ti Sai Zong not only spoke but is leading him sowhere.
In conversations with Serey, they have frequently doubted the Undying Club, speculating in their doubts that Sai Zong might be the oldest among them, perhaps even witnessing the Club’s founding.
Bologue’s breath quickens, blinking hard to suppress an irresistible curiosity as he strides forward, following in Sai Zong’s footsteps.
Once untouchable and impossibly distant, the corridor’s end, Sai Zong seems to possess a certain authority, stabilizing the endlessly extending space around him. In his progress, Bologue can clearly see the distance between him and the corridor mysteriously closing in.
"During the ti I was away, I encountered many devils."
Sai Zong spoke to himself, his words like a heavy hamr, almost shattering Bologue’s thoughts.
"Each one of them is like a bloodthirsty wolf pack, ready for war, coupled with the increasing concentration of Ether, the overlap of the Ethereal Realm and the Material Realm, a catastrophe is imminent."
Sai Zong stopped his pace, no longer advancing toward the end, while Bologue followed behind him, as they approached the end, Bologue heard the reverberating snoring in the corridor.
The sound beca clearer and louder, as if at the end of the corridor a giant was sleeping, his snoring like thunder, each breath and exhale stirred up a howling wind.
"Sai Zong..."
Bologue’s voice beca sluggish, he felt sowhat dry-mouthed, at this mont many conjectures overflowed from Bologue’s mind, in his eyes, Sai Zong’s ludicrous figure was completely replaced by grotesqueness and madness.
"Are you a devil?" Bologue asked.
"Yes," Sai Zong turned around, first confirming, then shaking his head, "but not entirely."
He continued, "To put it in terms you can understand... you may regard as his sole debtor, his chosen one."
Bologue’s pupils contracted, all his muscles tensed, the narrow and straight corridor in Bologue’s eyes beca a one-way death battle arena, given the advantage of the Devil’s Territory and the Ancients, Bologue didn’t think he could surpass Sai Zong, especially considering he was unard.
Sai Zong said, "Don’t be nervous, Bologue, if I had hostility towards you, you would have already lost yourself in this stairwell."
"What do you want to do?" Bologue asked.
"Collaborate."
Sai Zong said, "I want to inform you of so secret, nearly forgotten information, and you will help eliminate these hidden dangers."
"Why are you so sure I can help you?" Bologue asked.
"Because I know you well enough, I’ve seen every one of your drunken monts, besides... our goals align."
Sai Zong suddenly walked toward Bologue, Bologue wanted to retreat, but his feet were rooted to the spot, as if nailed by iron, unable to move.
"Bologue Lazarus, a sickly, sowhat excessively narcissistic guy, you think of yourself as the savior of the Chosen One, maintaining the world’s order, incidentally getting rid of those troubleso devils."
Sai Zong was very close to Bologue, close enough for Bologue to clearly see the orange-red glow in his eyes, this glow reminded Bologue of the burning flas on the battlefield, carrying destruction and desolation.
"I am opposed to the devils."
"Good, to a certain extent, I too am opposed to the devils."
"But you’re the chosen one, won’t your master kill you?"
"You must understand, Bologue, the chosen ones are representatives of the devil’s will on earth, players in the conflict, so..."
"So the devil behind you also holds this attitude?" Bologue found it sowhat laughable, "Opposing other devils is about wanting to beco the sole winner in the conflict, the King of Demons?"
Sai Zong shook his head, expressionless, and said, "Look around you, here is his territory, what do you think he desires?"
Bologue froze, he found it difficult to understand Sai Zong’s words, on careful consideration, he thought of a possibility that surprised him greatly.
"Peace?"
Sai Zong confird with a nod, his expression solemn.
"No... how is that possible?" Bologue didn’t believe it.
"Devils also possess individual will, not all wills are willing to beco slaves to power," Sai Zong said quietly, "Just like the mbers of the Undying Club, long ti has worn away all our desires, now what we long for is just eternal peace."
Bologue lowered his breathing, questioning, "Who is he?"
Sai Zong fell silent for a mont, slowly turned his head, looking toward the end of the corridor.
"Once, he was called the Eyes of Eternal Fury, and his true na is..."
Sai Zong suddenly grabbed Bologue’s neck from behind, forcing him to lower his head, bringing his ear close to Sai Zong’s mouth, as if afraid of disturbing the sleeping will, Sai Zong spoke in an extrely low voice.
"Samuel the Wrathful."
The snoring at the end of the corridor paused, a kind of unprecedented threat rapidly spread in Bologue’s heart, like diffusing hard ice, freezing Bologue’s organs, until the paused snoring resud, this terrifying feeling gradually faded.
Seeing this, a strange smile finally appeared on Sai Zong’s otherwise numb face, he opened a side door, and in the pitch-black darkness, invited Bologue to step inside.
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