Chapter Thirty-One: Will You Give Me Your Life?

“Kind soul, could you give me your hand...?”
The one-armed old beggar uttered a chilling request with utmost sincerity, his hand trembling as he held the battered bowl aloft, as if he might lose grip at any moment.
His plea met no response from Qi Chen, who stood outside the doorway.
Though the beggar exuded none of the aura associated with the supernatural, his very presence and actions reeked of abnormality.
Qi Chen, remembering the advice passed down from the warm-hearted man, had no intention of acting rashly—what if the enemy’s trap was set within the house?
“Sorry, I need my hand for myself, so I can’t give it to you. If you want steamed buns, though, I can go buy you another bag...” Qi Chen replied offhandedly, all while peering into the house, searching for any sign of something amiss.
But aside from the addition of the old beggar, everything was unchanged from when he had left.
Suddenly, Qi Chen frowned and lowered his gaze.
Why did his shadow seem unnaturally bloated?
Given his build, no angle of light should cast such a barrel-shaped silhouette.
“Kind soul! Could you give me your heart?!” The old beggar’s voice abruptly escalated, and he leapt up from his kneeling position with shocking vigor for his frail, skin-and-bones frame.
Raising the porcelain bowl high, he lunged straight for Qi Chen, aiming to slam it down upon his head!
“Damn!” Qi Chen exclaimed, instinctively darting backwards, evading the attack and drawing the old beggar out of the house along with him.
But as he retreated, his shadow writhed eerily beneath his feet, a chilling aura emanating from its depths, creeping up his legs.
Hiss!
A pale phantom burst forth from Qi Chen’s shadow!
It was a translucent human skeleton, standing barely over one meter sixty, its limbs unnaturally thin. Its right hand, instead of ending in fingers, appeared fused to a bowl.

A bowl identical to the one the beggar held.
“Overlord!”
Qi Chen’s thought sparked instantly—he now practiced often enough to summon his own supernatural entity from the Mask Room with ease.
“Roar!”
With a thunderous bellow, Overlord’s imposing figure appeared before Qi Chen, muscular arms folding to shield him like a living wall, blocking the skeleton’s bowl mid-swing.
Guided by Qi Chen’s mental command, Overlord immediately prepared to counterattack. His free right fist targeted the skeleton’s head—swifter than the eye could follow.
With near-maxed strength attributes, Overlord possessed overwhelming advantages in close combat, far beyond ordinary supernatural entities.
Yet the skeleton had no intention of withstanding the blow; as the punch swept toward it, it ducked and dove back into Qi Chen’s shadow, vanishing.
“Attack the beggar directly!” Qi Chen’s mind raced. The connection between the beggar and the skeleton was obvious. The beggar was likely a supernatural practitioner, with the pale skeleton his entity.
Capture the master to subdue the minion!
Charging at the old beggar, Qi Chen knew he could outrun the decrepit man, especially with Overlord’s five-meter projection range assisting him. This was practically a gift.
Swish!
Icy chills surged from beneath his feet again. The skeleton emerged halfway from the shadow, its lower jaw stretched wide in a manic grin. Swinging its bowl-wielding hand, it struck Qi Chen’s left leg with a resounding thud!
Qi Chen, mid-sprint, felt his left leg lose all strength, his balance failing as he toppled toward the ground. Overlord, summoned in time, grabbed his arm and steadied him.
“So the old bastard deliberately made himself bait...lured me to focus on him and neglect my defense.” Qi Chen quickly pieced together the sequence—he had Overlord stand guard behind him, wary of another skeleton attack from the shadows.
This ploy was all to let the skeleton land a hit, likely to trigger some special supernatural ability. Qi Chen recognized this now.
“Thank you...kind soul.” The beggar, now at a safe distance, broke into a smile. His single arm shimmered with a hazy phantom, as if a new limb was forming.

And in turn, Qi Chen noticed his left leg gradually growing transparent.
So this was the skeleton’s power...a compulsory act of begging?
“Could you give me your heart as well?” The old beggar’s smile was unsettling, his sunken eye sockets gleaming with a soul-piercing light.
“In your dreams...” Qi Chen clenched his fists, rage surging within. He wished he could smash that skeleton to bits and burn it to ashes!
The agitation, once kindled, would not subside. Qi Chen failed to notice how his own expression twisted into a snarl, but the beggar caught every nuance.
“How has this kid’s aura changed?” The beggar’s expression grew grave. He was no rookie supernatural practitioner; he knew that a shift in temperament during the use of supernatural abilities marked true combat readiness.
When a person’s emotions align with their entity, the entity’s mental strength is fully unleashed.
“But so what? He’s just a novice, barely awakened...” The beggar recalled his reliable intelligence and grew more confident—especially since he had already seized the advantage.
Qi Chen’s left leg, struck by the Beggar’s Heart, would vanish completely in twenty minutes.
When that happened, the newcomer’s combat ability would be drastically weakened. The beggar had already gauged Qi Chen’s pathetically short projection range in their brief exchange—he could whittle away at him, tearing off each limb one by one!
With this, the beggar grinned broadly, his skin shriveling like old tree bark, looking all the more bizarre.
“Your life...give it to me, too.”

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