The More Tragic I Act, the Stronger I Get — My Fans Beg Me to Stop Killing Off My Roles-Chapter 307: "Don’t Grab Me, I’m Begging You"
Squelch—!
The sound of the dagger sinking into flesh was dull and viscous.
Beads of blood oozed along the blade, staining the once-washed-white fabric on the man's arm.
Jiang Ci did not stop. 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮
He straddled the "traitor," one hand pressing the other's shoulder, the dagger in his hand stabbing up and down like a mad thing.
Second stab, third stab.
He avoided all the lethal spots.
The tip of the blade plunged into the man's shoulder blades, his calves—places thick with flesh yet not fatal.
A few stabs were even deliberately off-target, driving the dagger hard into the wooden floor beside the "traitor"'s head.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Wood chips flew everywhere.
Unlike the muffled sound of blade meeting flesh,
these were crisp, violent impacts of metal striking hard wood.
"Don't come near!"
Jiang Ci suddenly snarled toward the empty air.
"Don't look for me! Get away! All of you get away!"
His face was smeared with ridiculous cream, making his ferocity all the more hideous.
He brandished the dagger, no longer aiming at the man beneath him,
but slashing and thrusting at the air as if besieged.
It wasn't really about killing a specific person anymore.
He was driving away countless invisible hands, fighting innumerable vengeful spirits that clung to him.
This was the choice Jiang Ci made in that moment.
Using Jiang He's post-drug brain damage and fragile psychology,
he turned this execution into a full-blown mental breakdown.
He was killing someone.
He was also killing the ghosts born in his own heart.
Behind the monitor, Jiang Wen's hand gripping the walkie-talkie had veins bulging.
Assistant Director Wang beside him instinctively stepped back half a pace, mouth open without sound.
At the dining table, Lei Zhong froze completely.
He had been genuinely startled by this sudden madness.
He had anticipated Jiang He's resistance, his hesitation, even that he might fall to his knees and beg for mercy.
But never in his life had he expected this.
The young man before them, face smeared with cream and splattered blood,
looked like a lunatic wielding a blade at empty air, emitting beastlike huffing sounds.
Lei Zhong had scraped and clawed through the entertainment industry for thirty years; he had seen countless excellent actors, but never this.
This was stripped of every acting methodology and technique, leaving only instinctual madness.
Jiang Ci's strength drained rapidly.
Long-term hunger and an emotionally exhausting, high-intensity performance had pushed his body to its limit.
His arms grew heavier, his stabbing movements slowed from frenzied to sluggish.
Finally, with a clink.
The dagger, caked with blood and cream, slipped from his weakened hand,
bounced and spun across the polished marble floor, and finally came to rest in the shadow of a corner.
His whole body went limp.
He scrambled backward on hands and feet until he was backed into a corner with nowhere left to flee.
He hugged his head, curling into a ball, trembling.
Muttering indistinctly between shivers.
"They're dead... all dead..."
"Don't grab me... I'm begging you... don't grab me..."
Lei Zhong looked at the broken man crumpled in the corner,
and the initial horror in his clouded eyes gradually ebbed.
The killing intent faded with it.
All that remained was the controller's contempt for a completely broken toy.
A man already gone mad could pose no threat.
He was far more interesting now.
The cruel look belonging to Cha Cai reappeared on Lei Zhong's face, even more intense than before.
He laughed out loud, a sound that echoed through the empty luxury villa, painfully grating.
He stepped forward and kicked aside the barely breathing "traitor" who lay blocking the way.
He couldn't be bothered to glance once at the comrade who had paved the way for Jiang He.
He raised his hand.
The pistol that had been tucked at his lower back was somehow back in his hand.
Bang!
A shot rang out.
Clear, decisive, clean.
The bullet pierced the "traitor"'s back near his heart, ending all his pain and struggle.
The gunshot reverberated through the villa.
In the corner, the body that had curled up and clutched its head
twitching violently at the sound of the shot, convulsed in sudden, severe spasms.
Lei Zhong walked slowly to the wall.
He crouched down and met the still-shivering youth's eyes.
He reached out with the same hand that had just pulled the trigger and lightly patted Jiang Ci's face.
His fingers smeared the cream, tear tracks, and blood from Jiang Ci's cheeks, blending them together bit by bit.
It felt like toying with a dirty, amusing toy he had made his own.
"You're useless."
Cha Cai's voice brimmed with pleasure and mockery.
"You can kill someone and still manage to scare yourself into madness."
He stood, took a warm, moist towel from the subordinate who had come up beside him, and leisurely wiped his hand that had just killed someone.
When he finished, he tossed the towel carelessly to the floor.
"But—you're mad enough."
He looked down at the body on the ground that still trembled faintly, the smile on his lips deepening.
"I like it."
"From now on, you'll be my dog."
"Only bite the people I tell you to."
...
"Click!"
Jiang Wen's voice finally crackled through the walkie-talkie, noticeably trembling.
All the lights on set blazed on.
The harsh white light chased away every ambiguous shadow in the villa.
No one dared move.
Dozens of crew members, including the background actors playing henchmen, froze in place,
terrified, staring at the curled-up figure in the corner.
That person was still shaking.
Body hunched, clutching his head, issuing small, meaningless whimpers from his throat.
The extra playing the "traitor" was helped up by the crew,
the blood blister on his arm still seeping plasma.
He looked toward Jiang Ci not far away, opened his mouth to say something, but only produced a wheezing "huff" from his throat.
He had truly believed he would be stabbed to death by that madman moments ago.
The old saying was right: acting opposite someone of film-emperor caliber really could ignite your own performance.
Assistant Sun Zhou reacted first; he rushed over, still clutching that blanket.
"Brother! Brother!"
He ran to Jiang Ci's side but didn't dare touch him.
"Cut! Director said cut! Brother! Wake up!"
The curled figure in the corner did not respond to his calls.
Sun Zhou turned and pleaded with the director not far away.
Jiang Wen ignored him.
He shoved past the people beside him, stumbling, and lunged at the monitor, snatching the playback device.
Over and over, he watched the footage.
He watched the youth gone madly wild with the dagger, clutching his head and roaring,
he watched the lethal convulsion after the gunshot.
Jiang Wen's face flushed crimson with uncontrollable excitement; his whole body trembled with it.
This, damn it, was a perfect performance!
He grabbed the walkie-talkie and practically yelled into it.
"Wrap! Everyone! Wrap!"
The crowd finally began to stir.
But everyone moved with instinctive lightness,
afraid of disturbing that monstrous figure in the corner who hadn't "come back" yet.
