Chapter Eighteen: A Fire Shrouded in Mystery

“What the hell?” Kuroha couldn’t help but complain, “Did that thing run inside me?”
No, how could a man come out of my body?
And now it’s gone back in?
Kuroha clawed at his throat, even scratched at his own skin, but the man who had gone inside showed no sign of coming out.
After struggling for a while, he finally gave up.
Kuroha was speechless. After thinking for a moment, he asked the system, “Hey, system, what’s up with that guy?”
[What?]
A cute feminine voice responded.
“The man in the Taoist robe.”
[I don’t know.]
“You don’t know?” Kuroha wished he could pull the system out and give it a beating.
[Yes, I don’t know.]
“Get him out.”
[Huh? There’s nothing here!]
“You damn thing!”
Kuroha ignored it—this system was a real scam.
He continued absorbing starlight.
The starlight flowed for a while and then stopped completely.
Everything before his eyes began to shift—the red bricks and rubble vanished, Uncle Liu’s house, which had been sliced apart, returned to its original state.
Gone was the darkness and dampness left by the fire; only the humble, ordinary atmosphere of a family remained.
Kuroha opened the door.
“Young man, you’re so handsome! Maybe a director will cast you as the lead actor!” Uncle Liu teased from his seat on the mahogany bench.
“I’m heading out, Uncle Liu,” Kuroha replied with a grin as he stepped out of the house and closed the door.
The Kuroha who had activated the rewind passed through himself at that time, but he didn’t care. He walked through the front door and saw Uncle Liu, beaming, legs crossed, pouring himself tea while watching TV.
It looked idyllic.
Kuroha sat beside Uncle Liu, looking at this lovable old man—his only support for so long.
Kuroha reached out, wanting to pat the old man’s shoulder. With muscle loss, Uncle Liu’s shoulders were gaunt, the flesh drooping onto his arms.
Such a severe case of bingo wings!
Kuroha had lost count of how many times he’d nagged Uncle Liu to do arm raises and stretches with him.
Uncle Liu just laughed, “You’re a fat guy yourself, and you have the nerve to complain about me not exercising!”
The result was, one fat, one thin, neither bothered to work out anymore.
Kuroha’s hand passed right through the old man’s shoulder, unable to touch anything.
But he could sit on the bench—strange rules.
Kuroha focused all his attention on Uncle Liu. This was his benefactor, his lifesaver!
If not for Uncle Liu, Kuroha couldn’t imagine what his life would be like now.

Maybe he’d still be living under the scorching sun and pouring rain, barely scraping by day after day; or maybe he wouldn’t have been able to hold on and would have returned to his hometown.
But there’s no if—just like this journey through time. He could only watch, not act, not change anything.
The past was already past.
Uncle Liu yawned, then lay down and soon fell asleep.
Kuroha looked around the kitchen, finding nothing suspicious.
Then he went up to the second and third floors.
Nothing amiss.
He entered his own room, where there was a palm-sized alarm clock.
The time was 09:27.
There was still more than half an hour until the fire department’s estimated ignition time at 10:00.
When the fire started, it was the wire outside his room. Kuroha stared at it for a while—still intact.
He asked the system to speed up the process, keeping his eyes fixed on the wire.
Snap!
The wire suddenly broke.
“Stop!” Kuroha growled.
A small knife was being pulled back, not yet fully retracted, but Kuroha was certain—it was this knife that had cut the wire.
The knife had come through the wall.
“A psychic?”
Kuroha returned to his room. Given the trajectory, the wielder should be in his room.
But after looking around, he saw no one else.
Even more bizarre, some items in his room seemed to come alive—clothes and bedding moving toward the door.
As if they wanted to make contact with the broken wire and start the fire.
Kuroha rushed up to the fourth-floor rooftop, seeing more fabrics and clothes moving toward his room.
What kind of grudge was this?
This power was determined to ignite this room!
On the fourth floor, Kuroha still found nothing.
He checked other floors; aside from all flammable items moving toward his room, nothing was different.
On the first-floor mahogany bench, Uncle Liu was gone.
Disappeared?
Kuroha searched for a while, still nothing.
Back at the third floor, at the first ignition point, Kuroha restored the time flow.
Boom!
His bedding quickly caught fire.
After igniting, it didn’t stop—the burning bedding set the moving flammable items alight.
Like a relay race, the burning items ignited others, then each returned to its place.

The fire spread swiftly, engulfing the house in blazing red and thick smoke in moments!
Kuroha glanced at the bathroom beside his room. It was said Uncle Liu was found here by the firefighters, but at this moment, there was still no sign of him.
Kuroha ignored it and checked the appliances—all sat undisturbed, the fire seemingly wary of them.
No, it was more like protection.
The perpetrator wanted to use the chaos to steal these appliances.
But was it really necessary?
These appliances were outdated, unlikely to sell, and worthless as scrap metal.
Unless...
Unless someone had a special attachment to them.
A strange thought, but it made sense, undeniable logic.
Kuroha returned to the third floor; the blaze was fiercer than ever, but he was untouched, bathed in flames that could not harm him. He made his way again to the third-floor bathroom.
Still, no one.
Outside, the sound of fire engines’ sirens echoed.
Kuroha looked through the corridor window, just able to see outside.
Fan Xiangdong led his firefighters, efficiently assembling hoses, working quickly—two streams of water blasted toward Kuroha’s direction with impressive force, making him step back in alarm.
But the water jets couldn’t touch him at all.
Boom... boom...
Kuroha approached the window again, peering out. Two firefighters carried a battering ram, striking the front door.
Bang...
The door burst open, and immediately water was sprayed inside.
“So reliable,” Kuroha was genuinely moved.
The firefighters were nimble, organized, disciplined.
While he was marveling, the team filed into the inferno.
Kuroha glanced again at the bathroom—still no one.
Where was Uncle Liu found?
About ten minutes later, two firefighters dragged hoses up to the third floor, where the fire was now under control.
They split up to search.
Calling out as they walked, “Is anyone here? We’re firefighters!”
One entered the bathroom.
Kuroha wanted to warn him off—there was nothing inside.
But in the next moment, he was stunned.
The firefighter anxiously called his partner over. Kuroha passed through him and saw a scorched corpse lying on the bathroom floor.
Two gold teeth gleamed on the body.