These Dangerous Girls Placed Me Into Jeopardy-Chapter 48Vol 2. : One Against a Thousand

I was stunned.

It was a scene of killing, and yet—I thought it was beautiful.

So fluid that I mistook it for some kind of dance. Maybe it was the arc of the blade, too graceful to seem real. Even the splattering blood carried an eerie kind of beauty.

“Pff—hehehehe... eheehee... hahahahaha!”

Modar bent over, covering his mouth, but that demented laughter still spilled through his fingers.

Watching his companion get killed made him euphoric. As he stared at that fat body collapsing with half a head missing, it was like he’d just witnessed some comedy skit—he shrieked with uncontainable delight.

“How... can you still laugh...?”

I couldn’t understand.

His companion was dead. He’d already lost an arm. How could he still laugh?

Something was wrong. Was his brain broken?

“Not understanding is perfectly normal. I wouldn’t want you to understand something so twisted, Lord Ethan.”

“...Yeah.”

Some things are better left unknown. Otherwise, you might fall in too deep.

After laughing for a bit, Modar lowered his hands and exhaled, speaking again.

“That’s great, really~ Just ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) now, I almost thought you were some kind of monster totally different from us. But now—now I see you’re one of us! That’s such a relief~ Whew~”

He exaggeratedly patted his chest—hairy and fully exposed—like he’d taken a weight off his shoulders and let out a long sigh.

I didn’t get what he meant.

Maybe it was his poor Mandarin—his tones were off.

But that wasn’t why I didn’t understand. I genuinely didn’t get what he was trying to say.

Edward let out a snort beside him, his voice cold with disdain.

“So in the end, you’re just another one drowning in slaughter for the sake of your own desires.”

He was talking about Snowy Jiang.

“Just because you’re on the other side now, defending humanity and killing us, you get a license to murder? Just because you stand on the so-called righteous side, you get to kill at will and be called a hero, without any guilt or consequence? How does that feel?”

No—that’s not right. Something about this feels off...

“I didn’t expect this, girl. So young, yet so hypocritical.”

He clearly didn’t understand her. None of that mattered to Snowy in the slightest.

“Are we fighting or not?”

As expected, Snowy remained utterly unshaken and asked coldly.

“Of course we’re continuing! Of course! Hahahahaha! I’m so glad I ran into you!”

Modar had already fallen halfway into madness. The red hue in his title was expanding. He raised his flaying knife, trying to slash at Snowy’s shoulder—

She simply ducked.

“I was chosen! I’m someone who surpassed the limits of ordinary humans and obtained power! I’m the apex of humanity!”

“You’re not human anymore.”

“Shut up, you sanctimonious bitch! What’s wrong with killing?! The human hides I peel are art! You brainless plebs just don’t know how to appreciate it!”

He screamed like a child throwing a tantrum, but the knife in his hand still stabbed forward with pinpoint accuracy.

His body moved before his mind caught up—it wasn’t thought out. It was reflex. Muscle memory. That’s why it was so fast.

“Becoming raw material for my art is the highest honor!”

Dodge.

“I’m the god who turns trash like you into masterpieces!”

Dodge.

“Praise me! Worship me! Acknowledge me!”

Dodge.

Not even a hair on Snowy’s head was touched.

The gap between them was obvious—even to me, a regular person. Snowy Jiang was in a completely different league.

After dodging who-knows-how-many attacks, she finally struck back. At some point, the blade she had sheathed had returned to her hand—I hadn’t even noticed.

With almost no resistance, the tip of the blade sliced into the Skinning Killer’s flesh. I couldn’t tell how many times she swung. All I saw was Modar’s body suddenly explode with sprays of blood. He was instantly dyed red.

Flesh ripped open. Blood splattered. Skin flew apart, fluttering like torn cloth in the wind.

His side, shoulder, knee, neck—there were too many wounds to count. But even then, he didn’t fall.

As if he couldn’t collapse until every drop of blood had drained, until every bone was crushed.

Modar let out a howl. His remaining hand gripped the flaying knife and slashed at Snowy’s neck—but it didn’t even leave a mark.

Then that hand, too, was cleanly severed.

And yet he still didn’t give up. He leapt, biting down on his own severed hand as it spun through the air, and lunged at Snowy again.

But his charge was forcibly stopped.

His heart had been pierced.

Blood sprayed out like a fountain the moment she pulled her blade free.

It was over. Anyone who saw that would think the fight was decided. Even Snowy herself probably thought so.

But then—he grabbed her.

Modar still hadn’t died. With some strength from god-knows-where, he pounced and clung to Snowy. He didn’t have the power to restrain her—he was just leaning on her, using her body to hold himself up.

It was the first time blood touched her. Snowy Jiang furrowed her brow.

As if venting her annoyance, she stabbed backward, without even looking.

The blade slid straight into his eye socket and gouged his eyeball out.

It was pure torture.

Absolutely merciless... as if she’d been created solely for killing. Like a doll built for slaughter.

Modar’s body arched backward from the stab, but his arms didn’t let go. In a voice barely audible, he muttered:

“Ahh... I’m done for, bro... Looks like the head goes to you... haha...”

“Don’t count on me. I’ll probably end up like you soon enough.”

Edward looked indifferent, but his body was honest—he was already walking toward Snowy.

“When I was a kid, I liked dinosaur skeletons. Thinking back, that might’ve been the start.”

He stood before Snowy now, shedding his jacket. His body was skin and bones—his ribs were clearly visible. Two cleaver-like blades hung from his waist.

The moment he pulled them out, his entire presence changed. The cold, analytical Edward was gone. Now he looked like a butcher.

Snowy didn’t move. Modar, who clung to her, was already dead. But his corpse still hung on her like a giant sack of trash, weighing her down.

“My family ran a livestock farm. I’d help out sometimes. After boning so many animals... one day I had a thought—what would it feel like to strip the bones from a person?”

He said it like he was telling a story. As he spoke, he twirled the knives in his hands, as if what he was about to cut wasn’t a living human, but a pig—or maybe even a tree.

“Modar was the same. The human hides he peeled went into making hideous little decorations. He was always so smug about it... what an idiot.”

His blades traced arcs through the air, clashing violently with Snowy’s. The metal rang out with each impact, sparks flying. It was like the two of them were fundamentally incompatible—like oil and water.

“And you—what is it that you’re chasing in all this killing? Show me.”

Snowy said nothing. Her answer came through her next move.

And what followed... was a spray of blood and something unidentifiable flying through the air.

Fingers.

Eight fingers—everything but the thumbs—sliced off clean at the base.

What she almost did to me, she did to Edward.

Only faster. Cleaner. Without hesitation.

I gulped hard, several times. My stomach churned at the sight—it made me sick just watching.

If I hadn’t escaped back then, I might’ve ended up just like him.

“So that’s it... not even a hint of killing intent... you’re more twisted than any of us...”

With no fingers left, Edward couldn’t grip his blades. They dropped to the ground with a dull clatter. He closed his eyes, still smiling.

“You win. Take it. Do whatever you want.”

I felt like we couldn’t keep going like this. If Snowy kept letting herself go, she’d end up just like them—lost in the killing.

But if I stayed here, I couldn’t do anything.

...

Blades danced. Flesh flew.

Even the arms wrapped around her shoulders were severed. Modar, now armless, finally lost all support and collapsed into a pool of blood with a splat.

Skinning Killer Modar, Bone-Scraping Killer Edward Cain—their titles gradually turned transparent and finally vanished. Both died from excessive blood loss.

“...Sky Sound.”

...

Severed limbs and broken bodies littered the ground. Snowy Jiang stood alone in the center of the blood-soaked scene, tilting her head slightly upward as rain washed the blood from her face.

She was cold.

A chill that radiated from the marrow outward—bone-deep cold that made the blood she spilled feel icy too.

She was calm.

So calm it was unnerving. So calm that even as she swung her blade, even as she drew blood, severed limbs, and killed—her face remained blank.

There wasn’t a shred of killing intent in her.

That intent I’d felt earlier—was it really for me?

No. Maybe I was just the trigger...

That intent came from her dissatisfaction—not with her victims, but with the imperfection of the world. The filth she couldn’t scrub clean. The failure to shape others into an ideal form.

But now, she had no killing intent at all.

She didn’t kill for hatred. What she desired was simple: incompleteness. Killing was not the goal.

When someone takes a life, their heart carries some killing intent. Unless—

That heart is truly indifferent. Detached from all of heaven and earth.

As if filth and depravity were natural phenomena. If something is natural, then one gets used to it—so used to it that even destroying it with your own hands no longer stirs your heart.

Is that why her blade flowed like water cutting through silk?

“You noticed it too, didn’t you? Her technique is too refined. Sure, becoming a half-ghoul boosts physical capabilities, but that kind of fluid movement—that’s not something any amateur could do.”

“Maybe it takes decades of practice to reach that level. And she... she’s already there. Snowy Jiang knows exactly how to cut to sever limbs. She must be able to see some kind of path... In other words...”

I didn’t need Rainie Bai to finish the thought.

Because anyone who saw that scene would have the same idea appear in their head.

Rainie Bai and I were the same—completely drawn in by her extraordinary talent, utterly mesmerized.

Even slaughter could be rendered so breathtakingly elegant.

“She’s a genius at dismemberment.”