Endless Debt-Chapter 926 - 43: Day of Misfortune (Part 4)

Mad thoughts wildly grew in Hill’s mind; it was implanted there by that man. He needed Hill to endure more suffering to cultivate a soul of greater value.

The moment to change fate had arrived.

Hill pushed open the door with all his might. The dim room was filled with an aura of death and decay. On the narrow bed lay a figure as thin as a mummy. His skin seemed rotten, sticking to the bed, with filth everywhere.

As if noticing Hill’s arrival, the mummy-like figure slowly turned its head, its murky eyes reflecting Hill’s image.

"I’m sorry," Hill murmured, "I’m sorry."

In the shadows, something evil was rising. He stood behind Hill, his hands resting on Hill’s shoulders.

"You know what to do. Only this way can you end the pain, and only this way can you save your mother."

A dreamlike voice echoed. Hill followed his words, and also his own heart, as he walked towards the bed.

"I’m sorry."

Hill cried in sorrow. That withered face seemed to know what Hill intended to do. He offered no resistance, instead showing a hint of relief, expectant.

With trembling hands, Hill grasped the throat wrapped in dry skin, summoning all his strength to strangle his father’s throat.

A suppressed cry of pain sounded from the throat, the shriveled chest heaving, emaciated limbs twitching uncontrollably.

Hill could barely endure it. He still lacked the courage, even though he believed it could help everyone. Just when he was about to let go, shadows seemed to extend another pair of hands, seizing Hill’s hands, casting them in iron, inseparable.

"No... no..."

Hill cried softly. Accompanying his sobs was the man’s bizarre and frenzied laughter.

The man seemed right beside Hill, laughing, reveling. He delighted in this. The pain of mortals always brought him great joy.

Hill wanted to stop but couldn’t move his hands. He could only watch his father die before his eyes until the mummy-like body responded no more.

It finally ended.

Hill’s hands trembled, feeling the stickiness of blood in his palms. After a brief moment of fear and grief, Hill suddenly laughed. His father was finally dead, so his mother wouldn’t have to toil caring for him; she could rest well for a while.

Right, it’s like this.

His mother would return to health. She might grieve for a time, but she would survive, and that was enough.

Hill thought this as he turned and saw the woman at the doorway, a face full of despair.

Hill couldn’t remember much of what happened after. He only remembered burning his father, and then the woman fell ill, lying silently in bed, not responding to Hill’s cries or pleas.

Hill tried to feed her, but she threw it all up. When he tried to touch her, she pushed him away harshly. She grew more and more ill day by day until one day, she said the first and last words to Hill since then.

"I hate you, Hill."

Soon after, the woman died, and Hill personally burned her.

Hill stood dazed before the fire, when a dark figure approached and commented on the burning flames.

"Often, our wishes backfire, don’t they?"

The man lowered his head.

"I told you, we would meet again, Hill."

Hill looked up. In his empty, numb eyes, the man’s scornful and sinister smile reflected.