Why Do All the Villains Look at Me Like This? - Chapter 99

Temporarily leaving Yao Huai’s side seemed like an easy task, at least that’s what Meng Xuexiao thought.

He sat on the cleared patch of ground, watching Yao Huai light the firewood he had gathered with a snap of his fingers.

Ever since they had formed their alliance at the Federation Military Academy, Yao Huai had never refused any of Meng Xuexiao’s requests. Even when Meng Xuexiao suddenly claimed to be tired, Yao Huai said nothing and cleared a spot for him to rest.

This rendered Meng Xuexiao’s carefully rehearsed plans completely useless. He had noticed Yao Huai mention pursuing Huai Sui earlier and had assumed it would take some persuasion to dissuade him from that course.

And then there was the fire…

Meng Xuexiao couldn’t help but wonder if Yao Huai had lit it because he thought Meng Xuexiao was cold.

He gazed at Yao Huai’s profile from afar. Though his features were unnaturally stern, the warm glow of the fire softened them, lending a hint of warmth to his face. Even his sharp features seemed gentler, making him appear…

Remarkably approachable.

Seizing the opportunity, Meng Xuexiao decided to act, “I’m going to the restroom…”

Meng Xuexiao wasn’t sure how well he was acting, since there was no mirror to check his expression. But he guessed he was doing a decent job, because Yao Huai immediately agreed.

However, the next moment, Yao Huai stood up. “I’ll go with you.”

“This… wouldn’t that be a bit awkward?” This was an answer Meng Xuexiao had never anticipated.

We’re not elementary schoolers. We don’t need to hold hands to go to the bathroom, do we…?

“But it’s too dangerous around here, and Huai Sui is nearby too,” Yao Huai said, his eyes seeming to hold genuine concern.

So considerate.

This was the image of Yao Huai that Meng Xuexiao had formed during their private moments together.

If it hadn’t been for the emergence of Shen Zekai’s Smart Brain, he would have found it hard to believe this man could be Shen Zekai’s killer.

But now, this very thoughtfulness felt like a burden…

Fine, if Yao Huai wants to come, let him…

Going to the bathroom was a private matter. Yao Huai couldn’t possibly keep his eyes on him every second, right?

Finding a proper restroom in this war-torn area between the Empire and the Federation was no easy task. Meng Xuexiao eventually settled on a cluster of tall haystacks, the kind that could completely conceal him.

“Alright, I’ll go relieve myself inside.”

He pushed aside the haystacks and ventured deeper into the enclosure.

The surroundings were eerily quiet, almost entirely dominated by the sound of Meng Xuexiao’s boots crunching through the dry grass. Yet, for some reason, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. He glanced down at his feet.

He was standing in a wide-open area. In such a situation, there was no need to blindly turn around in confusion; he could simply check the shadows on the ground.

Fortunately, there was only one shadow—a straight, still silhouette cast directly beneath Meng Xuexiao’s feet.

So… had his earlier unease been nothing more than a figment of his imagination?

Meng Xuexiao blinked, trying to calm his nerves. He figured he was probably just spooked, seeing shadows where none existed.

Forcing himself to dismiss these irrational thoughts, he urged himself to look up and stop staring at that solitary shadow.

He couldn’t afford to waste time here. The Smart Brain had only mentioned that Yao Huai’s interference was blocking its sensors in this area, but it hadn’t specified the extent of the interference. He would have to test the range himself.

Just a split second before Meng Xuexiao lifted his gaze, the tall grass that had been standing upright suddenly swayed outward in two directions, creating a ripple-like effect across the field.

A gust of wind swept through the air.

Even Meng Xuexiao’s own shadow twisted momentarily, like the mouth of a plastic bag being peeled open, revealing a faint double image.

In this superimposed shadow, his long hair cascaded like a waterfall, the wind whipping strands high into the air like silken threads.

When… when did his hair get this long…?

Meng Xuexiao froze, snapping his head around. Then… he saw the man in the wheelchair.

Yao Huai stood so close that Meng Xuexiao nearly bumped into his sharp nose when he turned.

At this proximity, it was no wonder Yao Huai’s shadow had merged with his own. If not for the wind, Meng Xuexiao likely wouldn’t have noticed.

But… shouldn’t Yao Huai be waiting outside the haystack right now?! Isn’t it common courtesy not to watch someone use the restroom?

“What… what are you doing here?” Meng Xuexiao instinctively took a step back, a wave of relief washing over him.

Thank goodness I wasn’t actually using the restroom. Thank goodness… I didn’t immediately test the Smart Brain’s detection range upon entering the haystack.

Yao Huai tilted his head slightly, as if puzzled by Meng Xuexiao’s reaction. “I was waiting for you to finish using the restroom.”

His expression remained utterly calm, as if he saw nothing wrong with following someone who needed to relieve themselves into a private space.

They had already moved far from their initial resting place. Here, there were no makeshift shelters, no warm, crackling fires—only the pale moonlight overhead.

The desolate white light seemed to strip away Meng Xuexiao’s initial impression of Yao Huai as a considerate companion, gradually revealing an inhuman and unsettling side.

It was like the truth about Yao Huai’s murder of Shen Zekai, exposed by the Smart Brain and Huai Sui.

Though Yao Huai’s appearance and behavior were meticulously crafted to mimic humans—even more convincingly than Zhuoyue, Huai Sui, or the others—he still lacked an understanding of human boundaries, privacy, and the sense of shame and morality that defined them.

Meng Xuexiao spoke with difficulty, “Could you… turn around?”

Yao Huai stared at him for a long moment before finally turning away. “Alright.”

The man genuinely turned his back. After confirming this several times, Meng Xuexiao took another step deeper into the thicket, putting more distance between himself and Yao Huai.

This time, he learned from his previous mistake, glancing back every few steps. Yao Huai hadn’t turned around once.

At least he’s keeping his word, right?

This finally eased the suffocating tension for Meng Xuexiao.

Estimating he had walked about seven or eight hundred meters, he hesitated, wondering if he should take out the Recorder and have the Smart Brain check if it could establish a connection.

Meng Xuexiao’s hand was already in his pocket, his fingernails brushing against the Recorder’s cold casing, when a sudden jolt of electricity surged through the device and into his skin.

The current wasn’t strong; the shock only made his fingertips tingle slightly.

But the instant he felt the electricity, Meng Xuexiao froze completely.

This was the Recorder’s built-in crisis alert system, the last failsafe the Smart Brain had installed before losing contact with the device. When the Smart Brain had instructed Meng Xuexiao on how to reconnect, it had also taught him how to use this failsafe.

Whenever the Recorder detected danger exceeding a certain threshold in the vicinity, it would alert Meng Xuexiao with an electrical shock.

Meng Xuexiao immediately turned to look at Yao Huai, though the distance was considerable, he could still see the back of his head.

Yao Huai remained motionless, not turning around.

Not Yao Huai? Then who could it be?

Meng Xuexiao genuinely couldn’t think of anyone else. Since Zhuoyue’s death, the surrounding alien beasts had scattered considerably. Even when they occasionally encountered one, they mostly dared not approach due to Yao Huai’s overwhelming presence.

Left with no other option, Meng Xuexiao began systematically checking his surroundings.

The Recorder’s danger alert system not only delivered electric shocks but also varied the intensity based on the proximity of the threat.

Meng Xuexiao’s left hand remained firmly on the Recorder’s casing as his right hand groped around. After enduring a series of electric shocks of varying intensity, even his wrist began to tremble.

Light, heavy, light, heavy, heavy…

He silently recorded the intensity of each shock in his mind, then narrowed his focus to his pant leg.

The search area had been reduced to a tiny space, but… what could possibly be hidden inside the fabric?

Meng Xuexiao ultimately didn’t underestimate the crisis alert system’s warning. He ran his fingers inch by inch over the fabric.

His hand felt the thick, sturdy cotton, then… a metallic texture.

A brass button, its design remarkably simple, reflected the ambient light. It was said that people in ancient times even used such buttons as mirrors.

Meng Xuexiao’s gaze swept past it, but a moment later, his head snapped back.

The reflection in the brass button wasn’t his own face, but a pair of mercury-like eyes.

Yao Huai’s eyes.

Even when set in Yao Huai’s face, these eyes seemed lifeless. Stripped of their context, they resembled inorganic glass beads, only amplifying the eerie sensation.

Meng Xuexiao couldn’t help but glance back at Yao Huai, who remained turned away from him.

He dared not imagine whether Yao Huai’s averted face still possessed eyes.

Just then, those eyes seemed to realize Meng Xuexiao was watching. Yet they showed no hint of guilt or being caught spying, remaining utterly composed—

“I need to confirm your safety.”

Meng Xuexiao’s eyes widened abruptly, his mouth opening and closing several times without forming any words.

The earlier awkwardness and embarrassment had now transformed into sheer terror.

Was this the first time Yao Huai had done this?

Clearly not.

It was just that… Meng Xuexiao had never noticed before.

How long had he known Yao Huai? Counting on his fingers, it had been quite a while, hadn’t it? Even setting aside daily routines like meals, sleep, and rest, they had spent all their time together.

Meng Xuexiao found it hard to imagine that on nights when he slept soundly, Yao Huai might have been lying nearby, staring at him without blinking.

Like a shadow, always there.

What exactly did Yao Huai see him as?!

A collaborator?

No, more like a plaything and a toy!

For the first time, Meng Xuexiao realized with chilling clarity that the man beside him was a complete anomaly—an exceptionally dangerous one at that!

He had been so naïve, thinking Yao Huai was easy to talk to and considerate enough. He had countless opportunities to let the Smart Brain sense this place, but in reality, Yao Huai had long woven an impenetrable web, trapping him inside and making every step a struggle.

He had previously entertained the possibility that Yao Huai harbored malicious intentions toward him. He had hypothesized that Yao Huai helped him eliminate Huai Sui and the others only to strengthen himself, eventually transforming into another unsolvable boss who would pose an existential threat.

That had been his worst-case scenario.

But now it seemed that this wasn’t even the worst-case scenario—it was simply the most natural progression of events!

He had to connect with the Smart Brain immediately. He had to act fast!

Next, Meng Xuexiao did his best to appear nonchalant as he returned to Yao Huai’s side and suggested returning to their previous campsite.

Yao Huai paused slightly at his request, “There’s no need to make you walk all the way back for something like that.”

He proposed setting up a new campsite right where they were.

For Yao Huai, this was no challenge. In less than ten minutes, a makeshift campsite was reestablished. The familiar flames flickered to life once more, but Meng Xuexiao’s earlier good mood had long since vanished.

He hastily chose a spot and pulled out the Recorder.

He had initially assumed Yao Huai hadn’t noticed the device, but given the current situation, it seemed highly likely he had. The fact that Yao Huai hadn’t acted yet likely stemmed from his unfamiliarity with technological devices.

However, Yao Huai wasn’t stupid. Meng Xuexiao’s repeated use of the Recorder would inevitably arouse his suspicion.

This time, he didn’t bother asking the Smart Brain any other questions.

[If you can sense me here and transmit your Main Body to this location, what are the chances of successfully extracting me?]

The Smart Brain paused for a moment before replying:

[5.2%]

The instant Meng Xuexiao saw that number, he fell silent.

In truth, this probability was surprisingly high. If he tried to escape on his own, the chances of success would be virtually zero.

But then he remembered he had another card to play—a promise.

Huai Sui’s promise.

Meng Xuexiao had been reluctant to involve Huai Sui, given the man’s unpredictable nature. But now, he had no other choice.

[If we include Huai Sui, what are our chances of escaping successfully?]