The Yellow-Haired Villain in Soaring Phoenix's Novels Also Desires Happiness Chapter 361: Mutation

Stench.

A reek.

A carrion-like stench, like corpses rotting, blew in with the night breeze, poured into the nose, flooded the lungs, like countless fine steel needles scratching nerves inch by inch.

"What..."

Liya cried out in fright, but was imdiately forced to shut her mouth by a stench she had never experienced, instinctively clapping a hand tight over her nose and mouth.

Her stomach heaved. Such a stench was unbearable for any girl, yet Liya still forced herself to look out the window.

The town’s silence was broken; a few curses echoed through the night—others seed to have felt this abnormal change too and were jolted from their sleep.

Aside from that, it was pitch-black.

Under the shroud of night, nothing could be seen clearly.

If only there were a moon now, Liya thought... wait, the moon?

Wasn’t there supposed to be a full moon in the sky?

Liya jerked her head up—she didn’t see any moon.

But in that instant, she realized:

Not seeing the moon didn’t an there was no moon.

Sothing was blocking the moon.

Or rather... blocking her entire line of sight.

Very close.

—It was a shadow.

Like a softened lump of rubber putty drooping down from the eaves of the window, it descended from above and covered nearly all of what she could see.

The outline of the shadow was too blurry and complex, and with the light source blocked, Liya couldn’t tell what it was at all.

But as her eyes just began to adapt to the darkness and that thing leaned closer, she finally saw it.

A face.

A face extending down out of the shadow.

Pale, distorted, bloated, bloodless.

Like a dead man.

And yet that face was smiling.

A satisfied, blissful, utterly sincere smile.

Grinning wide, eyes arched, brows lifted.

As if it possessed all the beauty in the world.

So happy it couldn’t help but shed tears.

Bloody tears.

And when those unfocused, vacant pupils—like they were searching for sothing—t Liya’s gaze...

That face beca even happier.

"Ah... oo-oo..."

A sound like a pained sob squeezed out of that face’s throat, sharp and grating, like two rusty iron plates scraping each other—yet within it one could hear a bizarre excitent.

"So hungry..."

"So full..."

"Eat... ooh... I want to eat so badly..."

"Let eat..."

A chill breath rushed at her. Liya suddenly felt her whole body wrapped in a deep darkness.

So will swept toward her with those voices, freezing every joint as if in ice—she couldn’t make any move at all.

She couldn’t even make a sound. She mustered all her strength to drive her breath, to force her vocal cords... but could only produce a single gurgle in her throat.

Like a lamb already plated on fine china—by the ti the silver cloche is lifted, its fate is sealed. In despair, it can only watch itself beco a delicacy under the other’s knife and fork.

Unable to resist.

Unable even to call for help.

Only...

"Don’t be afraid."

Suddenly, a warm breath covered her, driving out all darkness and chill.

Liya felt a strong arm wrap around her waist. With a wash of heat, a llow, low male voice sounded by her ear.

"Close your eyes."

Her heart settled in an instant. With no hesitation or doubt, Liya imdiately closed her eyes.

Then she heard a "puh."

A blade, piercing flesh.

Light burst forth, illuminating Muen’s cold, austere face—and the shadow’s full form.

It was a lump of at.

Yes, a lump. Of at.

Fat, muscle, tendons—grown together in a haphazard clump, forming a twisted, unspeakable creation.

Like a one-thousand-kilogram fat pig with no limbs—only randomly swollen flesh and fat pushing the skin outward, squeezing out layer upon layer of folds.

Yet this thing wasn’t without limbs—or rather, it had many limbs.

Grotesque arms or foot-like appendages grew out of that twisted trunk. It was by these limbs, and its boneless, soft body, that it hung from the window eaves.

Only that face... looked still "normal."

And now, in Muen’s hand, a pure-white short blade was driven precisely into that face.

Twin pupils like deep lakes flashed with anger. Muen tightened his grip on the knife and slashed down!

What the world’s strongest archmagus had imbued—Sharpness—manifested here: a fierce edge like a draped Milky Way that instantly tore open the twisted fleshly mass.

"Ah—"

The face still wore that satisfied, blissful smile, yet a wretched scream rang out.

Like slitting open a water-filled ball, whitish, red-tinged fat gushed from the wound Muen had opened, the stench mingling with rot, even more nauseating.

Its massive, hulking body shuddered and writhed madly. Those countless limbs flailed wildly, snatching at Muen.

Muen didn’t keep trading blows. He gathered Liya into his arm and retreated, withdrawing until they were beyond the range of that shadow.

Inside the room, the firelight still flickered. As if ward by it, Muen felt the stiff, delicate body in his arms finally soften again.

"You all right?" Muen asked.

"I-I’m fine."

Liya drew a deep breath. "I was too careless."

"It’s not your fault."

Muen’s face was solemn.

"No one expected the mutation to happen this suddenly. I almost didn’t react in ti either."

His heart still raced with lingering fear.

It had all co without the slightest warning. Even the expensive alert devices Muen had personally set up showed no reaction at all.

If not for the vigilance he never put down and his beyond-ordinary reaction speed, just now...

"Um..."

Liya °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° squird a little, a thin blush tinting her swan-like neck.

Only then did Muen realize how ambiguous his hold on Liya was—more ambiguous than at any ti before.

"Ah, sorry—everything happened so suddenly."

Muen hurriedly let go, rubbing the bridge of his nose in passing.

"No... that’s not what I ant."

Liya muttered under her breath, then opened her eyes.

No more adjusting to the light—everything leapt into view.

In an instant, the ease of getting her body back and the joy that warmth had brought were both largely washed out by the terrifying scene before her.

"What... is that."

She trembled, whispering.

Not far away, the unspeakable monster was still struggling, writhing; its countless limbs raked at the wall, shrieking with a harsh noise, as if in rage.

But that face Muen had split in two still wore its blissful smile.

That face quickly knit back together—then, instead of attacking again, it lowered its head.

Now, on its fat body, below the face, there was no neck. That massive wound had not fully closed; copious fat and flesh were flowing out, writhing and squirming in ignorance, turning over new fascia as if they had lives of their own.

It considered for a mont, and did not let them keep growing.

Instead, it suddenly thrust out a grotesque limb, grabbed that fat and flesh...

And stuffed it into its mouth.

Chewing.

Crunch-crunch.

Then swallowing.

Gulp.

Its body visibly swelled a size.

Bloody tears trickled down, and that face looked even more blissful.

"So tasty..."