I am a Flower Vase in an Infinite World / I Am a Useless flower in an infinite

Chapter 72

Tang Ning was overwhelmed by dizziness, a dizzying sensation pressing against the back of his head. It felt as if his soul, in a state of panic, wanted nothing more than to escape. The throbbing ache at his temple pulsated relentlessly. Tang Ning attempted to step back, but his movements were hindered by the burden of carrying Ji Lianyun.

It was a momentary delay.

To his astonishment, the hemp rope connecting the ceiling beam and his neck began to elongate on its own! The hanging corpse swung towards Tang Ning!

Its face contorted into a terrifying visage, eyes bulging with malevolence. Tang Ning sensed an impending doom; he was about to meet his end! His mind raced with horrifying possibilities of his impending demise!!!

A chilling hand gripped Tang Ning's throat. He widened his eyes, desperately trying to pry the iron-like grip of the specter's hand, but he found himself devoid of strength.

The rope tightened gradually. Tang Ning's feet lifted off the ground inch by inch, starting from his heels to his toes. His suspended feet struggled frantically, his face flushed with exertion, yet he couldn't utter a word—

Help!

Someone, please save me!

His mind buzzed with a cacophony of sounds, the fiendish laughter echoing in his ears. Ghostly faces flashed before him, like a relentless barrage of strobe lights. Tang Ning once dreamed of standing in a radiant spotlight, basking in the adoration and cheers of the masses.

When he was chosen by Director Chang, he never shared the fantasies buried deep within his heart with anyone. He worked tirelessly on the set, feeling as though he was truly on the brink of that scene—

It was a grandiose spectacle of his own demise.

Laughter, flashes, buzzing, agony.

His brain felt feverish, his body weighed down by a foggy, mountainous pain. He felt like Sun Wukong trapped beneath the Five Finger Mountain, awaiting the arrival of his master.

But upon reflection, he realized he was more akin to the Tang Monk coveted by demons, a mere mortal pinned beneath the unyielding weight of the mountain. The one who could save him was the Great Sage Equal to Heaven—

Yet the story itself was cruel.

He was but a mortal, how could he survive without food or drink, withstand the elements, endure the long solitude and despair?

At that moment, even a mere existence would suffice, a few words of mercy bestowed upon him. Even demons would regard him as their savior.

So.

Save me, please.

Regardless of whether it's god or demon, human or ghost, I no longer care.

"Ning—" a faint call came from beside his ear, muffled and blurred, as if seeping through water, gently enveloping his body like a warm embrace.

The rope released from around his neck, the most excruciating pain disappearing in an instant, as if an invisible mountain had been lifted from his body. Tang Ning collapsed into the arms, tainted with the scent of blood. It was as if he had been torn into two halves— one was helpless, trembling in the embrace, afraid and tearful; the other was on the verge of madness, roaring with the desire to vent the remnants of fear and pain on others.

He blinked, trying hard to clear his vision blurred by tears, and then looked laboriously at the face of Ji Lianyun, who was gazing at him.

"Why did you—" the voice, attempting to roar but trembling uncontrollably, sounded more like a feeble tremor, unable to stir any emotion throughout his body, as if ants were trying to move a mountain.