Chapter 39: So Terrifying!
This time, Kong Le’s attention wasn’t on the script but fully focused on Lu Xu.
The balance in his heart had already silently tilted toward Lu Xu, though he wouldn’t reveal it outright. He wanted to see if Lu Xu would deliver a performance in this scene that would leave him utterly amazed.
Yu Yi’s first act of revenge had been swift and decisive—a single stroke to end a life.
In the shadowy world of power, those in authority were always exceedingly cautious. Their bodyguards formed such an overwhelming presence that it was intimidating. With their power, they could easily take the lives of others. To them, others were merely ants, their lives insignificant numbers unworthy of concern.
Yet, when it came to their own lives, they clung to them with exceptional fervor. Perhaps they understood that, even as executioners, their veins were as fragile as anyone else’s. When a knife pi*rced their throats, their blood would be just as red.
No more noble than an ordinary person.
…
The production crew hadn’t arranged for another actor to take the role, so the assistant director had to step in and play alongside Lu Xu.
He portrayed the character responsible for carrying out the plan. In his younger days, this man had lived a life of blood and violence, but later, he realized that serving others was far more comfortable than constant killing. When Yu Yi infiltrated the place, the man had been highly alert at first, trying to subdue Yu Yi with the limited strength he had left. When that proved futile, he turned to bribery.
“I’ll give you money, I’ll give you a house. As long as you let me go today, I’ll give you whatever you want.”
Lei Ai and Kong Le simultaneously showed expressions of speechless disbelief.
The assistant director, not being a trained actor and likely lacking any real acting experience, believed he had conveyed the character’s fear. However, his thin face, combined with his drooping brows and completely flat delivery of lines, made it a miracle that Lu Xu hadn’t burst out laughing.
And yet—
Faced with an uncooperative counterpart, Yu Yi’s voice remained flat and emotionless. “Money, a house?”
The other man, thinking he had wavered, gestured for Yu Yi to open a suitcase in the corner. That suitcase was stuffed full of money—U.S. dollars—enough to tempt anyone at first glance.
Yu Yi’s gaze did indeed shift to the corner, his expression unreadable.
But just as the man thought Yu Yi had agreed to let him go, in the very next moment, a sharp blade plunged precisely into his throat. In his dimming pupils, the last thing he saw was Yu Yi’s eyes, colder than the knife itself.
The strike was swift and ruthless, imbued with an unyielding force that nearly split the throat apart.
Perhaps it was the iciness of Lu Xu’s expression, or perhaps the ferocity in his actions that made it seem as though he was intent on killing himself. The assistant director froze in place, unable to move a muscle.
Even though Lu Xu was only holding a pen.
Yet the assistant director felt as though Lu Xu carried the weight of ten lives on his shoulders in that moment.
He discreetly shifted his head, casting a pleading look toward the director for help.
Lei Ai mouthed the words, “Finish the scene first,” leaving the assistant director no choice but to watch helplessly as Lu Xu wielded the pen, stabbing downward again and again. His gaze seemed to envision blood spurting everywhere, and yet, despite the gruesome imagery, Lu Xu’s stabbing motions were steady, methodical—each one deliberate, as if performing some ancient and sacred ritual.
The brutality of the act was horrifying, but when contrasted with Lu Xu’s calm, almost routine demeanor, the scene became utterly terrifying.
The assistant director thought to himself that he would probably have nightmares tonight.
He could only conclude: A handsome serial killer is a hundred times scarier than an ugly one!
Why wasn’t there a single actor available today?
Why couldn’t the director step into the role himself?
And why, oh why, couldn’t he have been the director instead?
In this scene, Lu Xu still had very few lines. Instead, he relied on his actions and expressions to fully embody the character of Yu Yi.
After completing his first act of revenge, Yu Yi methodically cleaned up the scene.
That initial experience made him realize that perhaps his nature wasn’t as warm as he had believed. After taking a life, he remained unnervingly calm—his heartbeat didn’t even quicken. It was as if what he had done was nothing more than an ordinary, mundane task.
And he would do it again.
He disposed of the money in the suitcase and staged the scene to look like a gang fight.
When he stepped outside, his warm smile returned. The earlier brutality and bloodshed had entirely vanished from his demeanor. He even bent down and placed a folded paper bird into a little girl’s hands.
Kong Le suddenly turned to Lei Ai, his expression bursting with intense emotion—
He’s the one!
No one could be more suitable than Lu Xu!
Lei Ai responded with a look that said he understood.
He realized that this famous author was far from calm and composed by nature. The steady demeanor Kong Le had shown during previous auditions was merely because he hadn’t encountered an actor who truly moved him.
Now that such an actor had appeared, Kong Le was itching to sign a contract with him on the spot, afraid that Lu Xu might slip away if they delayed even a moment.
Lei Ai couldn’t blame him for feeling this way.
The casting for the male lead of The Path of Bones had dragged on for ages, and Kong Le’s severe case of PTSD toward actors made it worse. Any actor who failed to meet his expectations in the slightest was immediately rejected.
To find someone so fitting now—how could they not sign him quickly? Waiting until he walked away and regretting it later would be unthinkable.
Besides, Lu Xu wasn’t some completely unknown actor. After the success of Son of Heaven, Lu Xu had practically become the most talked-about newcomer in the entertainment industry this year.
They couldn’t let the production team appear too desperate. Lei Ai glanced toward the door. Ever since the audition ended, Lu Xu’s manager had been keeping a close and watchful eye on them.
Lu Xu himself probably wouldn’t be hard to deal with, but his manager…
Lei Ai couldn’t fathom how Lu Xu had ended up signing with someone like that.
Xu Wen was far from an easygoing manager. Sharp-eyed and fiercely dedicated to prioritizing his artist’s interests, Xu Wen had spent years at Feiyang Entertainment and excelled in negotiating with production teams. His experience was formidable.
Just the thought of dealing with Xu Wen made Lei Ai’s head throb.
He dreaded the possibility that Xu Wen might see through their eagerness to sign Lu Xu. Fine, they were eager—very eager.
Lei Ai cast a helpless glance at Kong Le. He had to admit that people from the literary world were far more transparent than those in the entertainment industry. Kong Le’s intentions were practically written all over his face. Moreover, when it came to casting for The Path of Bones, Kong Le’s opinion carried more weight.
As the original author, Kong Le had made significant compromises, relinquishing much of his control, all in pursuit of creating a truly exceptional drama.
…
Lu Xu stared at his new contract in shock before silently turning to his manager. “Does the production team have dirt on you or something?”
The paycheck was a figure far beyond what he had imagined—several times higher than what he earned for Son of Heaven. More surprising still, the team had agreed to several terms that would have been highly inconvenient for them.
Xu Wen simply stated that this was Lu Xu’s current market value.
“Taking on low-budget projects recklessly is detrimental to your career development,” Xu Wen explained. “I believe that the paycheck offered by The Path of Bones is perfectly aligned with your abilities.”
While this paycheck wasn’t extraordinarily high, countless actors with less talent than Lu Xu had no hesitation demanding exorbitant sums. Feiyang Entertainment had always been more conservative in its pricing than other agencies.
Xu Wen wasn’t the kind of manager who pushed his artists to take high-paying roles just to maximize his commission. The contract with The Path of Bones production team was his way of sending a message to the industry: Lu Xu was a selective and sophisticated actor, and chaotic or low-quality productions shouldn’t bother contacting him.
Lu Xu: “…”
He definitely wasn’t as refined as his manager thought. Honestly, he was itching to try a reckless role where he could bash his head against walls, metaphorically or literally.
…
When Lu Xu officially joined the set of The Path of Bones, he realized that the team didn’t seem resentful about his high paycheck. On the contrary, they appeared genuinely excited about his arrival.
“Our team has a lot of fans of The Path of Bones,” Lei Ai explained. “Most of us were traumatized by the last adaptation. We figured that if we were part of the crew, we’d never let the project turn into such a disaster.” He pointed to himself. “I’m one of those fans too.”
It was precisely because he was a fan that Lei Ai had patiently accompanied Kong Le through audition after audition, ultimately choosing Lu Xu.
Yu Yi was the sole focal point of The Path of Bones. The original work was exhilarating, driven by the satisfaction of watching the protagonist eliminate his enemies one by one. However, Yu Yi’s personal story was far from a simple revenge fantasy.
A life lived solely for vengeance—what joy could it bring?
His team was gone, and in this world, he had no close friends, no confidants. He could only bury his hatred deep within his heart, carrying it alone as he completed one bloody act of revenge after another.
But even after his revenge was complete, his friends would not return.
The warm families of his friends were irreparably shattered. The shy, unspoken love one friend held… was lost forever in the shimmering tears of a grieving girl.
The shattered reality remained unchanged. Revenge could not alter the past.
And yet, the only thing Yu Yi could do was to seek vengeance.
Lei Ai was busy with preparations when the cinematographer, who had collaborated with him several times, quietly sidled over and cast a glance at Lu Xu. “Is this really the male lead chosen by Mr. Kong?”
“If he wasn’t chosen by Kong Le, he wouldn’t be able to come to the set.”
“This…”
The cinematographer struggled to articulate his thoughts. All he could say was that, on set, Lu Xu looked cheerful and sunny, especially when he smiled, which reminded him of his golden retriever at home. When Lu Xu wasn’t smiling, he sat quietly reading the script, exuding a calm demeanor. However, no matter how he looked at it, there was nothing about Lu Xu that remotely resembled Yu Yi.
After hearing his observations, Lei Ai gave him a look that seemed to say, ‘You’re still too young.’
Though Lei Ai didn’t utter a word, the expression on his face made the cinematographer doubt his own intelligence.
As the assistant director walked by, he sighed, patted the cinematographer on the shoulder, and remarked, “Why weren’t you there that day?”
“And even if you weren’t, couldn’t you have taken some acting lessons beforehand?”
The cinematographer: “…”
What exactly happened on the day of the audition? Why did he feel so excluded?
His questions didn’t remain unanswered for long.
…
Lu Xu, on the other hand, was beginning to feel that The Path of Bones production team had a rather peculiar approach.
Unlike the other two crews he had worked with, this team scheduled similar scenes to be filmed on the same day. Lu Xu’s first scene after joining the set was—unsurprisingly—a killing scene.
According to the director, “The fake blood is ready, the actor is here, and we’ve prepared the knife. Might as well film everything in one go, right?”
Otherwise, once one stabbing scene was finished, the crew would have to clean up, reset the stage, and then prepare for a similar scene later. Why bother with all that hassle?
Lu Xu: “…”
He hadn’t expected the director to start with such a challenging scene.
Still, since the production team had decided on this approach, Lu Xu didn’t dwell on it. He simply got to work.
Soon after, the cinematographer witnessed something extraordinary: Lu Xu, who had entered the set quietly and with little fanfare, suddenly transformed into a vengeful ghost.
So terrifying!
I think, author forgot about the Demon Lord role 😄