My Human Identity Was Exposed by an Evil Spirit Wife

In the shadows of the abandoned house, Wang Bing felt his entire body sinking, unbearably heavy and unable to move.

He lowered his head to see the blue-black shadows of children clinging all over him; their faces indistinct, all he could feel were countless pairs of hands gripping him, relentlessly pulling him down.

And that Little Demon named Tuantuan floated not far ahead, watching him with a half-smile, half-sneer.

On Wang Bing’s livestream, countless viewers felt their hearts seize with dread.

[Didn’t that thing tell Wang Bing to leave? Now it’s chased him down again.]

[And you people still believe what an evil spirit says?]

[Jiang Che’s still carrying something—who knows what the hell he’s actually holding.]

[Trying to figure out how to deal with your dad? He’s just bullshitting us, and he’s even managed to fool himself.]

[Who would’ve thought, even an evil spirit needs a reason for killing.]

[That girl spirit really is a demon. She keeps glancing all around, and the moment Wang Bing or Ya moves, she fixates on them.]

[Maybe this Little Evil Spirit is just too weak. She finally caught some prey—of course she isn’t letting them slip away.]

[Do you think she’d dare kill Jiang Che? He’s Blood Slaughter’s prey, after all.]

...

The viewers didn’t bother to guess at Tuantuan’s motives; after all, her moves made perfect sense.

Pretend she’s letting them go, then turn around and hunt them down.

Isn’t that standard evil spirit operating procedure?

What everyone wanted to know was whether Tuantuan would kill Jiang Che—if she’d screw things up and end up fighting Blood Slaughter or the other evil spirits over it.

"You can’t kill me! I’m the Spider Evil Spirit’s slave—you can’t kill me!" Wang Bing screamed, feeling his stiff limbs grabbed and twisted by those countless childlike shadows.

It was like getting hunted by crocodiles—caught in an unbreakable grip, his limbs twisted in all directions.

He barely got halfway through the first turn before he howled in pain.

His eyes, a dull brown, brimmed with terror and agony.

"A slave?" Tuantuan moved closer, looming over Wang Bing lying helpless on the ground. "Slaves are the least valuable thing in this world—especially one whose worth is already used up."

Human flesh and blood are worthless—far less valuable to evil spirits than the emotions they can harvest.

Wang Bing had already been drained of fear the first time he was caught. Letting him out again—no matter what evil acts he committed with spider silk—would send only a small trickle of terror to the evil spirits.

The stray fear that seeped out wasn’t much, but the loss was tolerable.

You could say, letting Wang Bing go around doing evil, even granting him abilities, didn’t cause much loss for the Spider Evil Spirit,

though even the Spider Evil Spirit knew granting skills to humans was only fun on occasion. Do it too much, you’re asking for trouble.

Letting Wang Bing out was just a predator’s twisted sense of amusement.

The only reason he played these games was because he knew—nobody would escape this dungeon alive.

Even if he didn’t kill them, no human was getting out of here.

Tuantuan was absolutely right: here, humans are the most worthless things.

Only those who hadn’t been hunted yet might matter a little—some evil spirits would care if another snatched their prey’s fear instead.

But with ones who’d already been used up, almost no one cared anymore.

They say even beating a dog, you have to look at its owner—but even if you kill the dog, no one’s starting a war over it.

Staring at Wang Bing writhing and screaming on the ground, Tuantuan found it strange—humans really are resilient creatures.

They’re far too good at adapting to evil spirits.

Only the first time are they truly terrified; after that, they start to adjust their mental state.

Just like Wang Bing now—his emotions were mostly hate. There was still fear, but not nearly as much as hate.

Wang Bing howled in agony, then in the next second, watched as a childlike blue-black shadow wrenched one of his arms clean off.

Several child-shadows gleefully waved his mummified arm around, racing each other and gloating over who tore it off first.

Tuantuan glanced at the severed limb. No blood dripped from the raw end, and no bone showed pale inside it.

All there was: countless insect eggs, packed tight into what was once his flesh.

Tuantuan smiled. As expected—no evil spirit does anything without a backup plan.

Wang Bing’s limbs were being yanked off one by one. He finally saw beneath his skin a wall of writhing eggs—and in that instant, he was filled with despair.

He went limp, lying on the ground, letting the evil spirits tear his body apart as they wanted.

Just before this, he was still thinking of hiding from the Spider Evil Spirit with Jiang Che’s bracelet to buy himself more time. Now, all that seemed laughably futile.

He could still feel the torment in his limbs, the tearing and shredding pain refusing to stop.

But his arms and legs were no longer real flesh and blood—even the chest and belly being ripped open just now were packed full of eggs.

Wang Bing instantly realized what was happening to him.

Phantom limb pain.

In the past, phantom limb pain was when amputees felt pain in limbs that had already been cut off.

He let out a bitter laugh—he’d always called Jiang Che a psycho, but wasn’t he the crazy one now?

As viewers watched his body get torn apart in the stream, the chat exploded.

Everyone thought he’d be able to put up a fight, relying on the powers he’d earned, maybe even go a round with this so-called Tuantuan Evil Spirit.

Even if he didn’t win, at least he wouldn’t be as helpless as he was now, with zero chance of fighting back.

Like this—what made him different from an ordinary person?

[Thank god he died early, otherwise he would’ve just confused us! Even if he wasn’t killed, he wouldn’t have lasted long in that state.]

[For once, this Tuantuan Evil Spirit did something good!]

[Damn, thank god Wang Bing’s dead. If not, we wouldn’t have a clue how badly his body was ruined.]

[I was planning to act just like Jiang Che—to sweet-talk an evil spirit for powers—never knew Wang Bing was basically a walking corpse.]

[Hah! Told you, there’s no way an evil spirit would be so generous.]

[Good riddance!]

...

As Wang Bing’s breath faded, the light in his pupils died out bit by bit.

Once the eggs reached open air, they began to crack open, hatching tiny creatures that turned over and started gnawing at what was left of his flesh, littering Wang Bing’s corpse like black sesame seeds.

When his breath stopped, the stream cut off.

Wang Bing’s broadcast was over for good.

In his final moments, he opened his mouth—and countless tiny spiders poured out, leaving behind not a single desperate or tragic last word.

At that moment, Wang Bing had yet to realize his death brought no sympathy, no regrets from anyone watching.

Seeing what became of his corpse, everyone agreed: he deserved it, let him rot.

His life and death confirmed two things for the viewers.

One: Evil spirits can bestow abilities on humans.

Two: Evil spirits will never do it for free.