| WRIAWW | You Are Free Too | 67
Zong Le had not thought of this before, he was thinking Joshua was simply trying to analyze him.
After all, he always inexplicably got close, with no sense of personal space. There was a term called "safe social distance," but this guy loved to push the boundaries, occasionally testing the waters and then dancing back and forth, making people uncomfortable.
Like now, the man lay on his side on the bed, one hand propping up his cheek, his eyes smiling as his silver hair cascading like water, with a few longer strands crossing over to Zong Le's side.
If not for the pristine white robe still impeccably worn, he could easily be mistaken for a certain type of high-end escort, the kind who specialized in killing wealthy patrons.
Joshua watched with interest as Zong Le's expression shifted from confusion to wariness and then to outright alarm.
Though most of the time, this dark-haired young man was as simple as a blank sheet of paper, occasionally he'd come up with thoughts Joshua couldn't quite decipher.
But Zong Le, now bombarded by comments like "Joshua is gay, and he keeps getting close to me, maybe he likes me," completely missed Joshua's curiosity.
Forcing himself to be calm, he asked, "So, what do you want to talk about?"
To be fair, Zong Le doesn't have prejudice against gay people.
But receiving advances from the same sex always made him feel uneasy.
"Hmm... How about we talk about you? I'd like to know more."
"......"
If it had been just speculation before, now, after these words, Zong Le could no longer pretend to be blind.
Then Joshua noticed Zong Le's expression grow even more peculiar, like a black cat with its fur standing on end.
He narrowed his eyes, hesitating slightly.
His strategy of approaching under the guise of "friendship" seemed to have produced unexpected side effects. Was there some unspoken taboo about the identity of a "friend"?
"Ah, hahaha." Zong Le forced a dry laugh. "Let's not talk about me. How about we discuss the mission instead?"
"Sure." In terms of gaining favorability, Joshua's current approach was to proceed gradually, like boiling a frog in warm water. He wouldn't reveal his intentions or bare his fangs too soon, patience was key. "What aspect of the mission would you like to discuss?"
"I was thinking... what exactly is this weird's ability?"
Zong Le tried to ignore the current setting—"bedside, nightlight, two men alone in a room" and steer the conversation back casually. "Earlier, it transformed into your appearance. Could its ability be to disguise itself as others and lure victims to their deaths?"
Joshua nodded approvingly, his silver hair glowing softly under the nightlight.
Encouraged, Zong Le continued his analysis.
"The little girl might have let her guard down after seeing a familiar parent or friend, only to be grabbed and hanged. The groom was swapped out by the weird, and the bride was killed by the groom. Then, seeing his bride's gruesome corpse, the real groom broke down and took his own life. The finance elite was ambushed when he least expected it... I feel like there's a connection between these cases, but my theory might be too lacking. I’m not sure how to pinpoint the weird’s hiding place."
Given the overwhelming evidence of the apartment weird's murders, Zong Le was determined to capture it and bring it to justice. If the circumstances were severe and irrefutable, there was also the possibility of executing it on the spot.
"Your reasoning isn’t wrong."
As the dark-haired young man muttered to himself, Joshua suddenly spoke up. "There's nothing wrong with what you said, but there’s one thing that isn't right, do we really need to find the weird’s hiding place?"
Zong Le: "?"
"Since you have overwhelming strength, why bother searching for its hiding spot?"
The silver-haired patriarch's tone was casual, as if they were discussing something ordinary, yet beneath it lay a carefully concealed hint of temptation. "Wouldn’t it be faster to just demolish the entire apartment building?"
No one understood better than Joshua what possessing such overwhelming strength truly meant.
During the initial mission at the Imaginary Fortress, Qin Ye had once punched through several meters of reinforced steel in the armory. And that was just at Strength Enhancement Level 8.
Shouldn’t someone like Zong Le be capable of collapsing half a building with a single punch?
This was precisely what intrigued Joshua the most.
After all, those with immense power tended to act recklessly. With such strength at their disposal, they often disregarded rules. While Qin Ye now appeared to complete missions in an ordinary manner, he was still a military man and often restrained himself.
Even so, during lower-level missions, Qin Ye occasionally resorted to brute force, leading the Watchtower Guild to bulldoze their way through, which was why their mission efficiency was so high.
Zong Le was even stronger than Qin Ye, so why was he content to remain as an unknown C-level?
And more importantly—
"Also, those two people that scolded you, don't you think they are annoying? They are just a A-level and a B-level, but they dare to use their level to act superior than you..."
"You idea is really dangerous," Zong Le couldn't help but interrupt: "First of all, how could I possibly destroy someone else's property? With my current financial situation, even if I sold myself, I still wouldn't be able to afford a single floor tile here."
Although Taikang Yongle Hospital was now under his control, the ill-rotten gains he'd gathered might cover it, but that was dirty money soaked in the blood and sweat of Guiyi City's citizens. Zong Le had no interest in it.
"Besides, those two weren't wrong, I really am just a C-level. Should I retaliate just because they stated facts? In all honestly, I think everyone here is quite nice and friendly."
Compared to the residents of Guiyi City, they were practically angels.
Joshua fell silent.
He now understood exactly how Zong Le's former psychiatrist must have felt. That director had initially planned to use Zong Le as a tool to meddle in hospital affairs after diagnosing him, even going to great lengths to subtly manipulate him.
Yet all those schemes had dissolved against Zong Le's upright, kind, and steadfast moral compass.
"If anything, it's you who—" Just like now, instead of being swayed, Zong Le turned the tables to lecture Joshua: "As the saint of the Infinite Space, you are admired by so many, shouldn't you bear some responsibility? You call the survivors your lambs, but aren't they innocent? Doesn't your conscience ache when you exploit them?"
Joshua: "......"
The silver-haired man was uncharacteristically at a loss for words. Such an extreme person with moral values was truly a first for him.
Damn. He'd run into a genuine lawful abiding person.
"And since you brought up that earlier argument, let me settle accounts with you. Don't think I didn't notice you lurking behind the corner the whole time and only stepping in to mediate at the last minute."
Zong Le never imagined he'd one day outmaneuver the silver-haired bad guy in eloquence. Now holding the moral high ground, his words flowed effortlessly as he began his verbal counterattack.
"What about you then?" Joshua suddenly chuckled as he listened. "Didn't you hear everything clearly from the confession booth's skylight? I never claimed to be a good person. Wasn't that obvious from the very beginning?"
"......"
Now it was Zong Le's turn to be speechless.
He had encountered bad people, or rather, bad weirds but Joshua was the first to be so proud about it.
What was most frustrating was that he couldn't find any concrete evidence of Joshua's crimes to bring him to justice. Isn't that infuriating?
"Forget it, I'm done talking to you."
Seeing the black-haired young man angrily pull the blanket over himself to go back to sleep, Joshua quickly called out, "Wait."
"What?!"
"We've barely talked, we were just two topics in, and you're calling it quits? That hardly counts as a conversation."
"I have nothing to say to you!" Zong Le flipped his pillow over and buried his face in it, making his disinterest in further discussion abundantly clear. "Those who walk different paths cannot work together."
A sociopath and a gay man? No way they could get along. Hard pass.
"But we can still talk," Joshua said with a smile, watching his antics. "Don't you want to try convincing me? To change my view of all living beings as mere lambs?"
High moral standards, strict adherence to social rules, kindness, and the power to change the world. After having roughly dissected the "Zong Le" personality, Joshua concluded that the only missing piece was a driving force.
Naturally, as the master of psychology Joshua immediately thought of the "Messiah complex"—an unhealthy psychological state where individuals believe they possess superior abilities or insight and driven by a compulsion to save others as a way to validate their own existence.
Joshua planned to play the lamb, handing the shepherd's whip to Zong Le, making him believe, "I can change him."
That way, the victory would always be his.
It was a trap dripping with honey, and the purer the soul, the more likely it was to sink into this quagmire.
Sure enough, Zong Le's ears twitched.
After a long pause, he replied, "No. While I don’t agree with your views, everyone has the right to choose their own worldview. I won’t try to change anyone’s mind."
"Even though you have the power to force others to change?"
"Yes."
Joshua pressed on, undeterred. "You know, my plans are nearly flawless, I rarely lose to anyone."
Feigning vulnerability while advancing, he added, "I’d love to hear your thoughts."
Zong Le was taken aback. "Ah, but I don’t have any opinions. I just think people’s beliefs are shaped by their upbringing, social interactions... and countless other factors. Different experiences lead to different ideas, and the occasional clash of perspectives can be interesting. Since I haven’t lived your life, what right do I have to change your mind?"
"Individuals are free to think whatever they want, and you’re free too."
After saying this, Zong Le heard nothing from the other side for a long time.
He lifted a corner of the pillow in puzzlement, only to find this bad guy lying on the other side of the bed, who usually wore a fake smile, uncharacteristically devoid of a smile.
The light traced the sharp line of his jaw, his thin lips pressed tightly together.
"I'm not in the mood to talk anymore, go to sleep."
Joshua reached out and turned off the only light source himself.
Darkness flooded the room like a tide, shutting out even the moonlight.
Only when steady, measured breathing resumed around him did the silver-haired patriarch finally relax from his rigid posture.
Expressionless, the man raised a hand to his chest.
Just beneath his palm, his heart beat with a strong, steady rhythm.
Joshua knew better than anyone that this was the treatment granted to him as the "Saint."
The moment he stops helping the survivors in the infinite, the heart arrest device implanted in his heart would activate immediately, not even the Saint's power of resurrection could counteract this parasitic curse.
'Some words are easier said than done.'
In the darkness, someone's lips curled into a cold, soundless smile.
He will never be free.
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