But as he stared at the monster’s corpse, he quickly noticed a faint black mist dissipating from its body. At that moment, the demon-refining pot, which had been as lifeless as a salted fish since his transmigration, suddenly stirred within him.

The demon-refining pot existed in his sea of consciousness; as long as he calmed his mind and visualized it, it would appear. It stood on three legs shaped like a flood dragon and a turtle, with a python coiled around the handle, and cloud patterns on the body. It looked extremely ancient and elegant—clearly not an ordinary object.

Autumn Whitman often visualized entering the “world within the pot,” but all along, the pot itself had shown no initiative whatsoever. Calling it a salted fish was actually a compliment; it had absolutely no sense of presence.

However, this time it suddenly vibrated on its own, clearly transmitting a choice to Autumn Whitman: Yin demon detected. Please choose to refine it or store it in the world within the pot.

Yin demon?

Wasn’t this world supposed to have no supernatural powers at all?

How did one suddenly appear?

Autumn Whitman hesitated for a moment, but seeing the black mist slowly dissipating, he had no time to think further and directly chose “refine”—this thing looked pretty dangerous, and he didn’t feel safe putting it in the “world within the pot.” It was better to just refine it right away.

The moment he made his decision, it was as if a suction force appeared out of thin air, continuously drawing the black mist from the monster’s body, mixed with threads of blood-red. The two swirled and tumbled in the air, gradually condensing into a pill.

The monster’s once swollen body quickly shriveled, its previously twisted and ferocious form turning into skin and bones. Finally, the pill formed out of nowhere, pitch black but reflecting a strange, demonic light, with thin red veins pulsing intermittently like blood vessels, as if it were alive—truly bizarre.

“What is that?” Charlotte Sutton came closer, staring blankly at the floating pill, feeling as if her entire worldview had just shattered.

Autumn Whitman didn’t answer—he didn’t know either. The demon-refining pot hadn’t given any further explanation. But he quickly snapped back to his senses, exchanged a confused glance with Charlotte Sutton, then suddenly reached out, grabbed the pill, and turned to run.

He couldn’t bring himself to kill to silence her, so running was his only option.

Charlotte Sutton was startled and tried to give chase, but her full-force pounce earlier had left her body aching all over. Her legs gave out, and she stumbled and fell, instinctively reaching out with a desperate hand and shouting, “Wait, don’t go!”

Autumn Whitman, like a heartless level-99 scumbag, ignored her cries completely and dashed through the partition door, disappearing without a trace in the blink of an eye.

Charlotte Sutton was helpless. She knew with her small frame there was no way she could catch up to him. She pounded the floor of the train car in frustration, furious.

Bastard, are you a dog or what?

I just risked my life to save you, and this is how you treat me?

We defeated that monster together—I have a right to know!

Chapter 10: Stone-Baked Sweet Potatoes

Autumn Whitman had just run into the next train car when the train arrived at the station, slowing down and coming to a stop.

Though the fight seemed long, it had actually only taken a few minutes—just enough time for the train to travel one stop. The Japanese have a strong herd mentality, and because of the “train monster” incident, many passengers were deeply traumatized and tried to get as far away as possible. As a result, this car was almost empty—the fleeing passengers had even sealed off the partition door at the other end, probably from watching too many horror movies. They were extremely cautious, with no desire to court disaster.

Autumn Whitman gave these clever folks a mental thumbs-up, then got off the train from this car. Meanwhile, the Sapporo public transportation dispatch center had already learned that a “shocking murder” had occurred on the train, but it all happened so quickly that they hadn’t even finished evacuating the waiting passengers. Many staff members didn’t even know what had happened, and were just trying to calm the crowd and barely maintain order.

But as soon as the train stopped, a flood of frightened passengers rushed onto the platform, crying and running in all directions, instantly destroying what little order remained. The platform became utter chaos.

Taking advantage of the confusion, Autumn Whitman slipped away from the station in the crowd. However, he shouldn’t have gotten off at this stop—it was still some distance from his apartment, so he had to jog for more than ten minutes to get home.

Because his clothes were torn and bloodstained, he attracted quite a few curious glances along the way, but he didn’t care. It was 2020, after all—there were surveillance cameras everywhere in the station, and so many witnesses. If the police wanted to find him, they definitely could; there was no need to hide.

It didn’t matter—he hadn’t broken any laws. According to Japanese law, if an ordinary person witnesses a crime in progress, they can perform a “citizen’s arrest.” If the perpetrator resists, they can exercise “citizen’s self-defense,” and bear no legal responsibility for any consequences. So even if he killed a highly dangerous murderer, no one could fault him—he wasn’t afraid of the police at all.

On the contrary, if the police really did come, not only would they have to give him a commendation and a reward, they’d also have to help conceal his identity to avoid harming the development of a minor.

As for that girl witnessing the pill’s formation, that was no big deal. Later, he could just say she was hallucinating from shock—she had no evidence, and with only her word, who would believe her?