Chapter 28: Dead Yet Unyielding

Li Can spent a full thirty minutes extracting all the white cartilage from within the monster’s body. Aside from two relatively intact pieces from the torso, the rest were tiny fragments. After cleaning the cartilage, he hid it upstairs, planning to fashion himself a set of “armor” when the time allowed.

The shed skin proved far more troublesome than expected; he couldn’t chew through it, nor could he boil it soft, and it reeked like foul socks. After much deliberation, Li Can gave up and incinerated it with white flames, leaving nothing behind—not even a trace of ash.

The monster’s body on the table had shrunk again, its limbs neatly dismantled and set aside with a butcher’s knife. The scaled tail was particularly notable—bereft of much flesh, it was filled with a black gelatinous substance, not unlike mucus. Li Can tasted it, only to confirm his suspicion: it was just as disgusting.

He spat, cleared his mouth, and swung the tail a couple of times. “So limp, no heft at all—not remotely as fearsome as the blows I took last night.” He’d considered using the tail as a whip, but on trial, promptly abandoned the idea. “But these scales—what a waste to throw them away.”

With a forceful slice along the base, one shiny scale detached. Examining it closely, he saw it was shaped like an inverted triangle—thin, even thinner than a razor blade. The night was silent, and with no one to talk to, Li Can’s childish side emerged. Pinching the scale between his fingers, he played the card assassin, flicking his wrist and sending the scale flying toward the curtain, all the while muttering, “Go, Ace of Hearts!”

There was a faint swish—

A metallic clang—

And a muffled grunt—

Li Can hadn’t restrained his strength. The scale, a fleeting shadow, vanished in the blink of an eye, leaving only those three strange sounds behind: the first, a soft noise as it pierced the curtain; the second, a brief metallic scrape; and the third—a grunt, as if from someone outside!

“Someone out there?” His expression shifted drastically. He hurried to the front room and saw a narrow slit in the shutter, clearly made by the flying scale. Without thinking further, he yanked open the shutter.

Nothing but darkness—no one in sight.

“Did I imagine it? Doesn’t matter; even if someone was hurt, anyone lurking outside at this hour can’t be up to any good.”

He glanced toward the kitchen, uneasy that someone might have seen what was inside. Feeling guilty, he shut the shutter again.

Above, the clouds drifted away from the moon, letting its clear light filter through the leaves and illuminate two silhouettes hidden in the narrow alley beside the restaurant. One wore a baseball cap and gripped a menacing machete; the other sported a floral shirt and a gold watch. They were none other than Zhao Gang and Hawk.

The two had stood frozen for several minutes, only relaxing when they were sure the shutter would not open again. Hawk reached down and yanked an object from his upper left leg, grimacing in pain.

“What the hell is this thing?”

“No idea, looks like a fish scale.”

“A fish scale pierced my leg?”

“Well…” Zhao Gang asked nervously, “Should we keep going?”

“Why don’t you go?” Hawk snapped.

Zhao Gang dared not reply. He’d only followed Hawk here for revenge because he was drunk; now, sobered up, he was sweating with fear. He knew exactly what kind of man Hawk was—if Li Can ended up dead, he’d be in trouble too.

“Hmph,” Hawk snorted. “That kid must’ve known we were coming and set traps. No way I’m falling for it. We’re leaving.” Relieved, Zhao Gang helped the limping Hawk away, glancing back at every step.

…

In the kitchen, Li Can, unfazed, removed every scale from the tail. Counting them, he found fifty-two in total. “Small as they are, these scales are deadly weapons—it’s all in how you use them.” He set the scales aside and turned his attention to the torso.

With the skin, membranes, and cartilage cleared away, only the reddish-brown flesh and bones of the monster remained. He began trimming the meat from the bones. The flesh was dense and resisted the knife, nothing like the ease of butchering a chicken or cow. He eyed his butcher’s knife with regret; the blade was nicked all over—damage from removing the scales. There was no avoiding it; the scales were simply that sharp.

“Such dense meat rules out a lot of cooking methods—cold dishes, marinating, pan-frying, stir-frying—all useless.” Li Can sifted through possible recipes in his mind.

Cold salads and marinades required either exceptional ingredients and the right seasoning, or hours of soaking—neither an option here.

With such fine, tight fibers, neither seasonings nor marinade could penetrate the meat; any sauce would be sucked up, leaving only the inherent flavor of the flesh. Pan-frying and stir-frying, being quick methods, would never cook the meat through.

It took Li Can more than ten minutes to finish stripping the meat from the torso. What he ended up with were scraps, the largest barely the size of his palm—not a single whole piece. This was due to the nature of the flesh, not his knife skills.

He piled the meat into a clean iron basin—sixty to seventy pounds, about a third of the monster’s total body weight. The remaining hundred-odd pounds consisted of skin, fascia, cartilage, limbs, tail, and bones. By Li Can’s estimate, those first five parts together weighed no more than thirty pounds; the heaviest portion was the skeleton, along with a shriveled mass of flesh encased within.

The surface of this mass was etched with hair-thin lines, similar to the blackened pulp he’d found when gouging out the monster’s eyes from its limbs—a sign, perhaps, of nervous tissue.

Thud. Thud.

Suddenly, the shriveled mass twitched, sending chills down Li Can’s spine.

“Not dead yet?”

Knowing the monster’s terrifying resilience, Li Can didn’t hesitate. He stabbed the mass through a gap in the bone.

“Puff!” The knife met no resistance.

Thud. Thud.

The mass began to beat faster and harder, making the whole torso convulse, as if possessed.

Li Can’s eyelid twitched violently; a wave of dread swept over him. The monster had died the previous night—over twenty-four hours ago—and had since been dissected, yet still it moved. Something evil was at work.

He stabbed again and again, over a dozen times, mercilessly turning the mass into a perforated mess. Black fluid gushed out, coating the knife blade so thickly its original color was lost.

At last, the body stilled. Li Can breathed a sigh of relief.

“That mass must be the monster’s source of power. If it’s not truly dead, it might really come back to life.” He made a mental note of this and went to wash the knife in the sink.

Yet no matter how hard he scrubbed, the black fluid would not come off. Worse, it was hardening into something incredibly tough.

He brushed the blade—and his skin split at the slightest touch.

(To be continued…)