Zhou Heng shoved away the bug’s hand from beneath his chin and forced a smile.

“Sure, bro. One look at that getup and I can tell you’ve spared no expense. Is this for some TV show, or a livestream by some rich guy? You wanna see people get scared? That’s pretty low. If you get caught, you’re gonna get beat up.”

Zhou Heng walked around the bug and called loudly into the space behind it.

“Zhang Xuan, Lu Yile, I was wondering why you two were holed up in here instead of coming out. Did these prank shows scare you so badly that you’re planning to give me a fright too?”

“Let me tell you, that’s not happening. I’m Zhou Heng—I’ve been getting scared since I was a kid. I know all about pranks. You wanna scare the piss out of me? Not a chance.”

Zhou Heng’s carefree gaze easily picked out Zhang Xuan and Lu Yile. But the two young people who’d been joking around with him just moments ago were now wrapped from head to toe in some unknown white, cocoon-like material, with only their heads poking out. It was a bizarrely comical sight.

Zhou Heng swallowed despite himself.

His gaze moved down, clockwise.

Below his two buddies, who were bound up like parcels, the school genius Su Mo was clutching the wound on a severed arm and panting, his face deathly pale.

The pretty girl who’d just been in Zhou Heng’s X-rated fantasies was in pretty bad shape now. Her face was pale and slick with sweat, and her body trembled slightly, as if she were enduring intense pain.

Zhou Heng admired the student’s acting. Not only was she good at her studies, she was a pretty good actress too. Even with Zhou Heng’s critical eye, he could barely find a flaw in the way she endured the pain after losing an arm.

And then there was the arm beside Su Mo’s foot, with no sign that it was fake, along with the wound where her arm had been severed…

Zhou Heng applauded with genuine sincerity.

“Whoa, you’ve spent even more than I thought. The hand, the wound—I honestly can’t find a single thing to criticize. I mean, you could use all these props to make a great horror movie. Isn’t it kind of a waste to use them just to scare people?”

Su Mo, still panting, looked thoroughly baffled.

“You think all this is fake?”

Zhou Heng spread his hands and replied calmly.

“What else? We’re in the real world, not a movie. If you wanna scare people, you’d be better off setting up a murder scene and having this actor play some psycho serial killer who chops people up. That might actually scare me so badly I’d run for my life. But this?”

Zhou Heng walked over to the bug, patted its chitin-covered waist, and added with a look of disdain:

“All this flashy stuff is useless. It just ruins the creepy atmosphere, knocks it down several notches. There’s no sense of realism at all.”

Zhou Heng grinned at the bug’s ink-black eyes.

“Bro, quit pretending. I know it can’t be comfortable wearing all that. Since I’ve seen through it, why not take off the costume? And you audience members crouched around those hidden cameras, waiting for me to make a fool of myself—quit snickering. I’m a good sport. I’m not gonna give you the satisfaction.”

The bug didn’t reply. It simply placed both hands on Zhou Heng’s shoulders.

Zhou Heng rolled his shoulders and realized the bug had a tight grip. Even with strength well beyond what you’d expect for his age, he couldn’t shake it off.

“Hey, since I’ve already seen through you, let’s just—”

The rest of his words stuck in his throat. Zhou Heng stared in shock as the bug’s vaguely human face split open along two diagonal lines. Its cheeks parted into four petal-like sections, and a scent—impossible to tell whether sweet or foul—washed over him.

Inside the petals, row upon row of blade-sharp teeth were exposed to the air.

No matter how you looked at it, the sight was horrifying.

Zhou Heng’s eyes widened.

“How much did that costume cost? Even Hollywood doesn’t have tech like this, does it?”

Su Mo had already given up on criticizing Zhou Heng for being so oblivious. She could only shout at him:

“Stop being an idiot and run!”

Run?

Zhou Heng glanced at the bug’s hands pressing down on his shoulders. They weren’t just resting there—they had a firm grip. If shaking them off was already hard, then trying to run…

His heel lifted. In the space of a breath, a scorching heat surged through him, as if his body had caught fire.

With the breathing technique drawing strength from his entire body, Zhou Heng’s instep slammed straight into the bug’s lower abdomen.

Zhou Heng had tried using this method to hit someone during a fight before. The guy had flown more than a meter, then collapsed and couldn’t get back up. And as if that weren’t bad enough, he’d started spitting up blood. It had looked serious.

The sight had scared Zhou Heng so badly that he thought he’d caused a fatal accident. He’d forgotten all about the fight, hoisted the guy onto his back, and rushed him to the hospital, praying the whole way that nothing would happen. Otherwise, his whole life would basically be ruined.

After that, Zhou Heng never dared use the Burning Body Technique’s kicks against anyone again.

But things were different now. Zhou Heng kept insisting this was some TV network’s prank show, but after seeing the bug’s face split open, he couldn’t help feeling a trace of fear and panic.

Once panic set in, he forgot all about holding back.