The Yellow-Haired Villain in Soaring Phoenix's Novels Also Desires Happiness Chapter 169: Divine Mercy

"I can’t die! I can’t die! I still haven’t obtained the eternal life I want—how can I die?!"

Lorenzo crawled through the dim street like a mangy dog with shattered legs. And indeed, his legs were broken.

Blood poured constantly from the clean cuts, leaving behind two long, straight red trails. If he could retrieve his severed feet now, maybe magic could reattach them—but he didn’t dare look back. Fear alone drove him forward, onward and onward.

Images flashed through his mind. People he had killed. People who had died because of him. People who wanted him dead. They all stood in the flas, faces twisted with hatred, arms outstretched as if trying to drag him into hell.

"Get away! Get away!"

Lorenzo scread and swatted at the air, desperately trying to banish the visions.

"I won’t die—I won’t die!"

That’s when he heard footsteps. Calm, almost leisurely footsteps, like soone out for a stroll. But to Lorenzo, they sounded like the slow, closing steps of a demon.

“Mr. Lorenzo, can you answer my question now?”

That calm, composed voice echoed behind him—polite, even noble, like a gentleman gently inquiring about his impending death.

"Stay back! Don’t co any closer!"

He kept crawling. His palms were torn by the sharp stones on the ground, but he didn’t notice. He turned his head toward the sides of the street. It seed like soone had been startled—dim light flickered behind a window. Hope flared in Lorenzo’s eyes. He scrambled toward the house and pounded on the door.

"Help ! Please help !" He was babbling now.

"Even if you won’t save , just call the guards! Arrest ! Lock up—I don’t care! Just don’t leave out here with that monster! Please, save !"

But the firelight vanished. In the darkness, a man let out a startled cry and slamd the window shut.

At night—don’t go outside.

At night—don’t trust anyone.

At night—no matter what noises co from the street, don’t react.

That was the law of survival for ordinary people in the Lower City.

“See, Mr. Lorenzo? Even the Lower City you’ve relied on for so long seems to hate you.”

Muen’s short blade sliced through Lorenzo’s armor with ease, leaving wound after wound across his body. The cuts weren’t deep, but they bled steadily. Muen drove him forward, letting him bleed out little by little.

Let him feel death’s approach—wasn’t that the best ending for a man like this?

"I won’t die! I won’t die!"

Lorenzo scread, as if in so final burst of defiance, despite his body being on the verge of collapse.

"I still have the Lord! The Lord will save ! I’ve done so much for you—you can’t just abandon ! You promised eternal life!"

“The ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) Lord?”

Muen frowned. This guy had been saying that word for a while now—Lord, and sothing about eternal life. He had no idea what it ant, but just in case, he decided it was better to end this quickly.

He stepped forward, ready to send Lorenzo straight to hell. He raised the pure white short blade. Under the moonlight—just peeking again through the clouds—Elizabeth shimred with a ghostly silver glow. To die beneath such a beautiful moon... Muen thought to himself, what a damn luxury.

The blade fell. But in that mont, the world suddenly dimd again.

The moon still hung high, cold and indifferent. So where was this darkness coming from?

Muen’s heart clenched. He looked up.

A tall, thin figure had appeared in front of him—no idea when it arrived.

The figure wore a thick, heavy raincoat, sared with filth in garish colors. On its head sat a bizarre mask, as if made from congealed blood and flesh. That at split open suddenly, revealing a twisted, bloody grin.

A jolt of deathly fear exploded in Muen’s mind. He imdiately redirected his strike, intercepting the massive cleaver swinging toward him.

“What the—”

The terrifying force behind the cleaver numbed his arm—he nearly lost his grip on his weapon.

What the hell kind of monstrous strength is this?

His thoughts spun as he used the impact to leap back, quickly pulling distance. He fought the tremors in his arm, eyes fixed on the towering freak in front of him.

“Who are you? Why did you attack ?”

The creature didn’t respond. It held a lump of twisted shadow in its hand... and was chewing. Crunch, crunch.

“The Lord! The Lord! You’re finally here!”

Lorenzo looked at the monster like a lost man stumbling into an oasis. He grabbed its foot with trembling hands, ecstatic.

“Please save ! Please!”

Still no reply. The creature only lowered its head and looked at Lorenzo.

But it wasn’t the gaze of soone looking at a person. It was the gaze of soone eyeing a al.

"Divine rcy! Divine rcy! Please save —I can do more for you! I can catch more people for you! You want more blood? The dragon’s heart blood—it’s on him! Divine rcy! Divine rcy!"

Lorenzo dropped to his knees in front of the thing he called "Lord," kowtowing like a fanatic worshipping a god. His forehead slamd into the pavent over and over. Soon, blood marked the stones.

“Divine rcy. Divine rcy.”

The monster tilted its head, watching for a long ti. Then it reached out—and grabbed Lorenzo’s shadow.

Muen froze in place—shocked, horrified, utterly disbelieving.

The thing had lifted Lorenzo’s shadow... right off the ground.

What the actual hell? How do you grab a shadow? This wasn’t just unscientific—it was wrong. But before Muen could process the absurdity of seeking science in a magical world, the creature raised the shadow to its mouth—

Crunch.

It bit a chunk right out of it.

A visible tear appeared in the shadow. But what made Muen’s hair stand on end was—it wasn’t just the shadow.

In the exact sa place on Lorenzo’s real body, a piece of flesh vanished. A ssy, bloody gouge—like sothing had taken a bite right out of him. The shape was unmistakable. Teeth marks.

But Lorenzo didn’t even flinch. He kept bowing.

"Divine rcy. Divine rcy."

Crunch. Crunch.

"Divine rcy."

Crunch. Crunch.

"Divine rcy."

Bite after bite, the creature chewed slowly—like a well-behaved child listening to instructions. Each bite, precisely twenty chews. No more, no less.

And with each chew, Lorenzo’s flesh disappeared, piece by piece, like a pancake being eaten from the edges inward.

Finally, in Muen’s nauseated vision, Lorenzo stopped chanting. Stopped begging for eternal life.

All that remained was a pile of bones—picked clean. Bones so spotless, it was like every one had been sucked dry.

BUUURP—

The monster stomped on the pile, crushing it, then let out a satisfied belch.

“...Tasty,” it said.