The door to the principal’s office was gently knocked on, and a youthful, clear voice came from inside.
“Come in.”
The door opened, and Yao Tai entered. Although she was always full of confidence, she now seemed surprisingly subdued.
The principal was writing with a traditional dip pen, a throwback to a time a hundred years earlier when retro was all the rage. Back then, people thought that emails lacked personality and persisted in handwriting. The principal was one of those people and had kept this habit until today.
Yao Tai waited for him to finish writing a sentence before saying, “Principal, the Disease Control Center has called…”
Upon hearing this, the principal’s hand trembled, causing a large drop of ink to fall and splatter across the paper.
This half-written letter was now ruined. The principal sighed, thinking perhaps he should really switch to using email.
He set the pen aside. “Is there no turning back?”
Yao Tai looked serious. “After trying for some time, we indeed can’t cure him. The Disease Control Center has been closely monitoring the data here. His psychological rating has exceeded the warning line twice. I have tried to delay as much as possible, but the center wants him to receive professional treatment as soon as possible.”
The principal walked over to the window with mixed feelings. “I’ve been inside the Disease Control Center. I know better than anyone what it’s like. Every year, hundreds of newly-adult Qizi enter, but very few come out. As a principal and a former patient of the center, I sincerely hope none of my students ever get involved.”
Yao Tai, though not having personally experienced it, understood what he meant. “This time, the responsibility mainly lies with me because of my negligence…”
“It’s not your fault,” the principal countered. “Even if you watched him for a day, you couldn’t for the second or the third… An obsession with death is terrifying. I’ve been through what he’s experienced, so I know the feeling. No one can be held accountable for this because no one can bear it. It’s the fate of every Tianxiu.”
He looked up at the sky. “If there’s someone to blame, blame our genes. Why do lovers fight to the death? Why do those who fail feel as if it’s worse than death?”
He expressed his long-standing confusion. Unfortunately, neither the clouds in the distant sky nor Yao Tai before him could answer any of these questions.
After a while, the principal seemed somewhat composed. “Did the Disease Control Center say when they would pick him up?”
Yao Tai quietly replied, “Tonight.”
The principal was taken aback. “So soon.”
“They’ve already set out and are on their way.”
The principal knew that this was inevitable and nobody could change it. He instructed Yao Tai, “Help him fulfill any remaining wishes he has here at Bikong. Once he leaves these school gates, returning would be indefinitely delayed.”
……
Ling Xiao rushed out of the dormitory like the wind, nearly colliding with a student from the next room.
“Where are you hurrying to, Ling Xiao?” the student asked in surprise.
While running, without looking back, Ling Xiao replied, “I’m meeting Ying Feng for training!”
By the time the last word reached the student, Ling Xiao had disappeared, leaving the student puzzled. Weren’t those two on bad terms? When did they become so close that they’d even train together?
By the time Ling Xiao reached the training hall, he was already late for their agreed time. Yet Ying Feng hadn’t arrived, so Ling Xiao began to warm up on his own.
Meanwhile, Ying Feng was in Yao Tai’s medical room. It had been his most frequent visit in recent times. He was there for the same reason as before.
He had thought that a simple injection would end quickly, but Yao Tai wasn’t there when he arrived. He had to wait for a while before she returned. After explaining, Yao Tai forced him to undergo another examination, causing further delay.
Once she saw the test results, Yao Tai finally believed him. The data showed an unusual level of hormones in Ying Feng’s system, far surpassing the level of the last suppressant injection he had received just a few days ago. It was bewildering.
“Are you sure you haven’t been in close contact with anyone who has awakened?”
Ever since being warned by Yao Tai, Ying Feng had kept a considerable distance from Zhu Yue. So, he naturally replied, “No.”
“There’s only one possibility left,” Yao Tai speculated. “Maybe your body has a strong resistance to the drug, and the inhibitor doesn’t work on you.”
This assumption made her a bit uneasy. “We’re about to go on a field internship. Given your unique situation, maybe I suggest you not participate.”
“I will participate,” Yin Feng decisively declined.
“Actually, even without the inhibitor during the awakening period, it shouldn’t have too significant an impact. But the field environment is complex, and you might encounter sudden dangers. What if something unexpected happens?”
“I can control myself,” Yin Feng said. “Just give me another shot.”
Knowing she couldn’t persuade him, Yao Tai understood. These fledglings are usually strictly protected within the campus, and hence, they especially treasure any opportunity to step out, let alone the annual field internships. Some even postpone their coming-of-age ceremony to participate.
Yao Tai injected him with the inhibitor once more and handed him a spray bottle.
“This is an emergency inhibitor. Use it when necessary. Carry it with you, just in case.”
Yin Feng took it and pocketed it. “Thank you, Dr. Yao.”
“How has Ling Xiao from your class been these days?”
Yin Feng wanted to say he was jumping around like a monkey but changed his words at the last minute. “He’s fine, nothing unusual.”
“That’s good. I was worried his friend’s incident would make him overly pessimistic. He hasn’t come to see me yet, which means he hasn’t awakened. Those who haven’t can experience a pseudo-awakening anytime, which can be a potential risk in the field, especially given his concerning personality. During the internship, can you please keep an eye on him?”
Yin Feng mumbled an acknowledgement. Whether or not he took it to heart, Yao Tai wasn’t sure. Knowing he dislikes mingling with others, especially since the two were so different—one was extroverted and the other introverted—she just let him go.
By the time Yin Feng arrived at the training hall and stepped in, he felt a rush of air towards him. Reacting quickly, he defended against three moves and, spotting an opening, counterattacked. The shadowy figure that ambushed him retreated with a swift backflip, gracefully landing on the ground.
“You’re late,” Ling Xiao said, looking like he had already warmed up with sweat on his forehead.
“Let’s go.” He tossed his coat aside and got into a combat stance. Through days of training, they knew each other’s moves and didn’t need any small talk.
“Don’t you need to warm up?” Ling Xiao didn’t want to have an unfair advantage.
“Fighting you is my warm-up.”
“Damn.” Ling Xiao felt the need to teach such an arrogant person a lesson and, without another word, charged forward. The two clashed intensely.
After several observations, Ling Xiao noticed Yin Feng was particularly defensive about his left chest. Though the heart was everyone’s weak spot, Yin Feng seemed overly protective, making one wonder if he had been seriously injured there before.
Realizing this, Ling Xiao focused his attacks there. Several times, Yin Feng missed golden opportunities to strike because he switched to defense. Taking advantage of this, Ling Xiao stepped up his offensive and pushed him back to the base of the wall.
When Yin Feng’s heel touched the obstacle, he hesitated slightly. Ling Xiao seized this moment, pouring all his strength into a punch. Unexpectedly, Yin Feng didn’t defend but instead landed a swift punch on Ling Xiao’s abdomen, pushing him back several steps. Ling Xiao had exposed himself, thinking Yin Feng wouldn’t attack, but fell right into his trap.
“You.” Ling Xiao groaned, clutching his stomach. “Why didn’t you defend?”
“Who said I had to?” Yin Feng replied nonchalantly.
“You were clearly nervous about that spot.” Ling Xiao felt tricked.
“Ah.” Yin Feng didn’t deny. “Just a habit.”
“Were you hit there before? Once bitten by a snake, one is scared all his life by a mere rope*?” Ling Xiao couldn’t help but ask.
*Metaphor for once you’ve been hurt, you’ll be afraid of similar things or events.
Ying Feng walked over to pick up his uniform jacket. He pulled out the peach pit from the left chest pocket and showed it to him. “Because I usually keep this with me. Since I don’t have it on me now, it doesn’t matter.”
Ling Xiao was irritated. “If that keepsake from your past lover is so precious, you shouldn’t carry it around regularly in case it gets damaged.”
Ying Feng ignored him, tucked the peach pit back into his pocket, and took out a magnetic card from another pocket.
To offer convenience for students, the training hall had installed vending machines. Ying Feng swiped the card in the scanning area, and a chilled sports drink immediately dropped from the machine.
Ling Xiao, also drenched in sweat and parched, saw Ying Feng tilting his head back to drink. He couldn’t help but focus on the Adam’s apple of Ying Feng’s throat. Due to the sweat, the skin there shimmered faintly. Every now and then, a bead of sweat slid down, disappearing into the V of the shirt, where two buttons were undone.
The cold bottle, in contact with the warm air, quickly fogged up with dew. It looked especially refreshing and appetizing, prompting an involuntary swallowing reflex from Ling Xiao.
Ying Feng noticed the intense gaze directed at him. Glancing from the corner of his eyes, he saw Ling Xiao’s comical expression. Amused, he swiped the card again for another drink and tossed the bottle to Ling Xiao.
Ling Xiao was so engrossed that he caught the incoming bottle reflexively. The cold sensation from the bottle gave him goosebumps.
He paused, realizing that Ying Feng had bought it for him. Recalling his own blatant staring earlier, he felt embarrassed.
“I-I’m okay with cold water…” he said, a bit awkwardly.
It was the first time Ying Feng saw someone too broke to even afford a bottle of water putting on a brave face. He said with a hint of sarcasm, “Drink it. Consider it replenishing your energy. These days, sparring with you feels like you haven’t eaten.”
Ling Xiao retorted, “Who said I didn’t eat? I had bread, okay?”
“With your recent activity, haven’t you already finished the bread?”
“Of course not!” Ling Xiao’s response was truthful. However, the harsh reality was that he was eating more than before. What was initially enough to last until the end of the month might run out in just a few days.
From Ling Xiao’s expression, Ying Feng knew the situation. “If you run out, just say so. I don’t mind buying for you. After all, you can’t find someone to mooch food off anymore, can you?”
Upon hearing this, Ling Xiao’s expression dimmed. He lowered his eyes, not retaliating against Ying Feng’s jibe for the first time.
By the time Ying Feng realized he might have said something he shouldn’t have, Ling Xiao walked past him silently, his demeanor entirely different from before.
At the door, he turned back, raising the drink in his hand. “Thanks for this.”
It was the first thank you Ying Feng had received from Ling Xiao in a decade. Instead of feeling content, he felt uneasy.
By the time Ying Feng returned to the dormitory building, Ling Xiao had already disappeared. Ying Feng hesitated, wondering whether to visit Ling Xiao’s room. He recalled the awkward way Ling Xiao had come to apologize to him before, and now he could relate to how Ling Xiao felt then.
Sitting on the bed, Ling Xiao blankly stared at a photograph in his hand. It was a group photo of him, Lan Sheng, and Ping Zong from last year’s field trip.
Back then, he was naive and oblivious, unaware that his close friends were dating. He had innocently positioned himself between the two, radiating with joy.
In the photo, all three of them, with dirty faces and injuries from the field trip, were beaming with happiness. Although only a year had passed, now only one of them remained from that picture. If carefreeness equated to naivety and growth came at a cost, Ling Xiao would rather stay naive and foolish if it meant having the three of them together again.
Three rhythmic knocks sounded from outside. No one in Ling Xiao’s memory had ever knocked on his door so politely before.
“Who is it?”
He asked loudly, but there was no response.
Ling Xiao put the photo back beside his bed and opened the door. Outside stood a person he had not expected.
“It’s you?”
The author has something to say:
Tip: Not taking suppressants has absolutely no effect on fighting little monsters in the wild. The “risks” mentioned by the school authorities refer to the possibility of couples getting intimate when alone in the wild, impulsively entering the coming-of-age ceremony without any protective measures, leading to tragic outcomes. The person that Zhen He likes is an example of this. Therefore, the rule of taking suppressants before participating in fieldwork is not aimed at PVE (Player vs. Environment), but rather PVP (Player vs. Player).
Kinky Thoughts:
This is the last of the free chapters on jjwxc. If you’ve been enjoying the novel so far and are able to, please consider supporting the author by buying the raws. You can use google chrome with their auto translate and this guide on how to buy novels on jjwxc for help. Remember, only with your (financial) support can artists continue to produce more great works.
There was only one day left before Zhou Qian entered the game.
Late at night, Zhou Qian and Qi Liuxing sat on their respective beds, staring at the system panel that popped up from their watches, studying it.
Zhou Qian first opened the treasure chest he had obtained from the last instance via the system.
[Player acquired item: Bilingbiling’s Brush]
[Function: The system has sensed your obsession with cleanliness and has gifted you this amazing brush. After using a weapon, wipe it with this brush, and the weapon will be instantly renewed! Blood? Mud? Sweat? Dust? All gone with a single swipe!]
[Grade: D level]
Zhou Qian: “…”
Then, following the system’s suggestion, Zhou Qian lit up a group control skill.
[Player Zhou Qian acquired Common Skill 1: Bone Nightmare]
[Skill Description: Group control. Causes enemies within range to fall into a dreamlike state, reducing their movement and attack speed by 10%. There’s a 30% chance of backlash, causing the user to fall into the same dream state. Use with caution.]
[Player Zhou Qian acquired Ultimate Skill 1: Bone Kill]
[Skill Description: Can only be triggered when the player’s health is below 10%. It draws nearby death resentment to attack the enemy. The stronger the resentment, the stronger the attack. Consumes 1,200 MP.]
Without saying anything, Zhou Qian took a glance, and Qi Liuxing immediately frowned. “What? You can only use your ultimate when you’re severely injured? And there are conditions for using your ultimate. If there’s no death resentment nearby, you can’t even use your ultimate! Wait, this skill consumes more than 50% of your mana? This skill is so trolling!”
Zhou Qian took out the bone weapon and made a gesture with it, then put it away, smiling faintly. “It’s not about how the skill looks, but how you use it. I think it’s not bad.”
After preparing, Zhou Qian chose to enter “Last Wish”.
He then received a system prompt, informing him that he could video call his gambler.
Staring at the words “Yu Xian” in the system for a while, Zhou Qian initiated a video call request. He then saw two people—naturally, Yu Xian and Zhu Qiang.
“Hello.”
Zhou Qian adeptly showed a silly smile, like that of a naive rich young master, looking both innocent and sweet.
Yu Xian was momentarily dazzled, but then he quickly cleared his throat. “Haha, Qian Ge! It’s great to talk to you!”
Yu Xian’s reaction was like seeing his favorite celebrity. When he regained composure, he introduced Zhu Qiang. “Qian Ge, this is my buddy, Zhu Qiang. We’ve been watching you clear that last level. You’re amazing.”
Zhou Qian then greeted Zhu Qiang.
Unlike Yu Xian’s enthusiasm, Zhu Qiang seemed more introverted.
Zhu Qiang didn’t say much, and Yu Xian added, “When we watch you play, Zhu Qiang often predicts your strategies. I can’t do that. Haha, seems like I’m bad at gaming.”
“Oh?” Zhou Qian looked at Zhu Qiang with curiosity. “So, Qiang Ge is also a gambler? Do you have a player you’ve bet on?”
Before Zhu Qiang could answer, Yu Xian laughed. “Yes, but we want to keep it a secret for now and not reveal who that person is.”
“I see.” Zhou Qian looked at Yu Xian thoughtfully and didn’t say more.
Yu Xian added, “In any case, we’ll do our best to help you! We succeed or fail together!”
After ending the call, Zhou Qian didn’t take Yu Xian’s words to heart.
All this talk about “succeeding or failing together”? They were merely bound by mutual interests. People who come close due to interests might betray for the same reason. Zhou Qian understood this better than anyone.
Afterwards, Zhou Qian clicked on the “Ready” button on the system panel, preparing to officially log into the instance.
Inside the presidential suite of a five-star hotel.
Yu Xian turned to Zhu Qiang. “Hey, Qiang Ge, why did you say we should keep it a secret that your gambler, Lu Mengmeng, will be in the same instance as Zhou Qian? To give him a surprise?”
Zhu Qiang chuckled shyly. “Actually, I’m afraid Zhou Qian might look down on Lu Mengmeng and, by extension, me. It feels a bit awkward. Don’t mind it. I feel like a protective father toward Lu Mengmeng. He’s the player I’ve bet on, and you’ve bet on Zhou Qian. But Lu Mengmeng is nowhere near Zhou Qian’s level. I feel conflicted about that…”
“We’ve both struggled together to get to where we are now. How can there be any disparity between us? Strange.” Yu Xian yawned, speaking in a slightly drunken tone. “It’s a pity. This morning, when Lu Mengmeng contacted you, I took your advice and played the slot machine. Otherwise, I could have greeted him! How was your chat with him? What did you guys talk about?”
Zhu Qiang quickly changed the subject. “How did it go with the slot machine?”
Yu Xian replied, “I lost… I lost 300,000 by myself, and the 100,000 of yours was lost too.”
Zhu Qiang patted his shoulder. “It’s okay. I think they’re about to start another round. I’ll go buy you some food.”
“Alright.” Yu Xian collapsed on the bed. “I really can’t understand this game… Have you noticed that when we watch them play, time around us seems to slow down…”
Without answering Yu Xian’s question, Zhu Qiang turned to leave the suite, his expression becoming exceptionally solemn.
Yu Xian, I can’t get out of this anymore.
I’m sorry, don’t blame me.
……
Half an hour later.
[Player Zhou Qian entered the instance: “Last Wish”]
[Instance difficulty: Level 2; Pass rate: 60%]
[Hidden achievement completion rate: 7%]
[Number of players: 6]
Upon entering the game, Zhou Qian found himself standing in front of a building approximately seven stories high.
The building’s glass doors were tightly shut, likely waiting for all the players to arrive.
In front of the building were green trees and red flowers. A large lawn, its grass swaying gently in the breeze, spread out, touching the blazing afternoon sky.
After a while, two more people arrived.
They were Gao Shan and Yun Xiangrong.
Zhou Qian noticed that as soon as the three of them entered the game, not only did they all have system-provided bags, but their outfits also looked similar—blue and white uniforms.
Glancing back at the sign in front of the building that read “Pastime Nursing Home”, Zhou Qian guessed that they might be playing roles like caretakers.
[3/6 players loaded]
[Waiting for 3 more players]
…
[4/6 players loaded]
After the system prompt, the fourth player arrived.
She was a woman, appearing a few years older than Yun Xiangrong, a typical cold beauty. She gave a brief nod to Zhou Qian, Gao Shan, and Yun Xiangrong as a greeting.
Through the system panel, Zhou Qian learned her name was Situ Qing, a high-ranking Rank C player skilled in long-range attacks and even capable of AOE attacks.
Monsters in “Apple Paradise” were tough due to its special instance. But Situ Qing, being skilled in AOE, meant she could deal damage to multiple targets at once.
After Situ Qing, a tall and burly man, around 35 years old, entered.
He greeted everyone with a cheerful demeanor.
[Name: He Xiaowei]
[Rank: D]
[Skills: Long-range damage; Group healing]
[Gambler system assessment: A growing pianist trying to cultivate two skills simultaneously. However, as the saying goes, if one tries to master everything, one ends up mastering nothing. Both of his skills are relatively weak. It is recommended to specialize in one in the future, either pure damage or pure healing.]
Unlike others, He Xiaowei’s gambler system evaluation seemed a bit derogatory.
After greeting He Xiaowei, Zhou Qian noticed another system prompt.
[6/6 players loaded]
[Loading storyline, please wait…]
The last player was a slender young man, around the same age as Gao Shan and Yun Xiangrong. In contrast to Situ Qing’s cold demeanor and He Xiaowei’s friendliness, he struck a balance, politely greeting everyone before looking down, appearing contemplative.
His skin was pale, and the sunlight illuminated the fine hairs on his face, making him look as though he might slowly fade and disappear.
[Name: Lu Mengmeng]
[Rank: D]
[Skills: Close combat, assassin abilities, high mobility]
[Gambler system assessment: Always completes games with just 1% HP remaining. Please keep working hard and stay safe.]
Haa. The gamblers are quite harsh.
Moreover… such a frail figure, and he’s an assassin?
Zhou Qian took another glance at Lu Mengmeng and saw that the system had finally sent a plot prompt.
[Identity of the six players: Former nursing home caretakers, responsible for taking care of an old man named Jiang Yuqing.]
[Jiang Yuqing is nearly a hundred years old and is expected to pass away in three days.]
[Player mission: Help Jiang Yuqing fulfill his last wishes within three days.]
[One of the main quests has been activated: Jiang Yuqing resides in room 701. Please proceed to room 701 within 5 minutes to care for him.]
[Note: The second to sixth floors are under maintenance and are not open to the public.]
[For a smooth clearance, players should actively seek clues. Good luck!]
After the system prompt disappeared, the glass doors of the building opened.
They weren’t automatic doors. Instead, an NPC resembling a security guard came over, unlocked the iron chain in front of the door, and ushered the players in.
Upon entering the lobby, they saw another NPC at the reception desk—a woman in her 30s wearing high heels and a welcoming uniform. Seeing the players dressed as caretakers walk in, she waved and greeted, “You must be the new caretakers? Mr. Jiang is in 701. Please go straight ahead.”
Zhou Qian, sensing something from her words, immediately asked, “Yes, we’re the new caretakers. Where are the old ones?”
The receptionist sighed. “Only two of the old caretakers are left, and they’re currently in room 701. I wonder how much longer they can endure.”
“Why? Is Mr. Jiang difficult?” Zhou Qian inquired.
“Yes. Taking care of him is no easy task, which is why he requires so many caretakers. And Mr. Jiang has a temper; he often gets angry and breaks things!” The receptionist added, “It seems that the caretakers couldn’t stand it anymore and left. But what’s strange is that none of them came to settle their wages. They all just disappeared. Hmm, it’s so weird. Who doesn’t like money these days?”
Hearing this, Zhou Qian raised an eyebrow, and both Yun Xiaorong and Gao Shan exchanged quick glances.
Could it be that those caretakers didn’t just leave because of Mr. Jiang’s temper but instead met a more sinister fate?
After pondering for a moment, Zhou Qian continued, “So today we can only go to the seventh floor? Why can’t we visit the other floors?”
“Huh? How did you know the other floors are off-limits?”
The receptionist looked at Zhou Qian in surprise, then explained, “Currently, this nursing home only has Mr. Jiang as its sole resident. Since there are no other guests on the other floors, we’re renovating them, so the security has sealed them off.”
Only Jiang Yuqing lives here?
From the receptionist to the security guard and all these caretakers, everyone is working around just one person?
“Oh yes, the two old caretakers are called Lao Tie and Lao Yu. You should go up quickly and listen to their handover. Be diligent, as I’ll be monitoring your attendance!” After urging the players to head to the seventh floor, the receptionist got busy with her work.
As Zhou Qian approached the elevator, he overheard her mumbling, “I heard that Mr. Jiang was a very handsome man in his youth. It’s a pity he’s old now…”
……
There were two elevators, A and B. The six players randomly chose elevator B and soon arrived on the seventh floor.
The corridor on the seventh floor had a light wooden floor, beige walls, and some luxury-style paintings, making the entire floor feel relaxed and cozy.
Given the time constraint of the main storyline, the players didn’t dally and went straight to room 701. But before they could enter, two NPCs dressed similarly to them opened the door and walked out. They were probably Lao Yu and Lao Tie, the two old caretakers the receptionist had mentioned.
The two spoke in turn, addressing the players.
“Mr. Jiang insists on eating [Wang’s Osmanthus Cake] every afternoon, or he gets moody! We’ll take a cab to buy it and be back in about an hour. Please take care of Mr. Jiang during this time.”
“Mr. Jiang had a nightmare about fighting someone last night. He seems to be in a bad mood today. Please be cautious. Taking care of someone isn’t easy. It’s your first day, so you’ll need to adjust!”
After delivering their lines, the two headed for the elevator, taking elevator B to leave. Just as they left, a “ding” sounded from elevator A next door. The doors opened, and three NPCs in blue cleaning uniforms stepped out, carrying brooms and cleaning tools. They appeared to be janitors.
Walking straight towards room 701, a janitor said, “Mr. Jiang loves cleanliness, so we came to help clean his room. Once we’re done with his room, we’ll help clean up for you new caretakers!”
With that, three janitors, plus six caretakers played by the players, entered room 701 together.
Upon entering room 701, Zhou Qian was immediately drawn to a wall on one side.
There hung a framed black and white photo that took up a third of the wall’s area.
The photo had an overall hue of dried maple leaves, yellowish-brown in color. It should be dry, as there was no sign of moisture, yet the people and scenes in the picture seemed blurred and distorted, possibly due to some kind of smudging effect. From a distance, it appeared as if the photo had been soaked in water.
Straining his eyes, Zhou Qian managed to identify seven individuals.
All seven were in military uniforms, which were tattered and stained with blood and mud, as if they had just come out of a battle. Their heights, body shapes, and sizes varied, and due to the severe damage to the photo, their genders couldn’t be distinguished. However, they seemed close, with their arms around each other.
The seven had two things in common.
First, their facial features were all blurred, resembling water damage, making it impossible to identify any of them.
Second, even though their uniforms were worn out, they all had a clear emblem—”7″.
The two caretakers had mentioned that Jiang Yuqing had dreamed of warfare the previous night. It seemed that he used to be a soldier. He was likely one of the seven in the photo, and their unit number had something to do with “7”.
Drawn by curiosity, Zhou Qian approached the photo and reached out to touch it.
For a split second, he felt a peculiar sensation—as if his fingers were dampened by the moisture from the photo.
Upon closer inspection, Zhou Qian realized the scene in the photo was likely a rainy day.
Through his eyes, he felt the rain dropping, as if it were overflowing from the picture, and then filling the room…
An intense, ominous aura enveloped Zhou Qian, and he felt as though the seven blurred figures from the photo were sliding out and staring down at him.
A chill ran down his spine, and he instinctively retracted his hand and stepped back. By averting his gaze from the eerie photo, everything else returned to normal.
Apart from this strange picture, the room had a cozy, homelike feeling.
For the moment, Zhou Qian turned his attention from the picture to the rest of the room’s furnishings.
The walls were powder blue, with most furniture made in a light-colored wood style. The bed was in the center of the room, with dried flowers on nightstands on both sides. One vase was made of celadon, and the other was semi-transparent crystal glass.
On one side of the room stood a bookshelf, lined with many books. In front of the shelf were two soft couches and a small coffee table, with pastries and water.
On a coat rack by the bed hung a brand new military uniform.
After glancing around, Zhou Qian’s eyes were firmly drawn to this uniform.
It also bore the number “7”.
Did this uniform belong to Jiang Yuqing?
Its design looked quite old, definitely not something a current soldier would wear.
Considering the era of the black and white photo, Jiang Yuqing’s time in the military was likely long ago. Yet why did his uniform look brand new, without a single wrinkle?
Many thoughts ran through Zhou Qian’s mind.
Finally, his attention settled on the number “7”.
The building had seven floors, there were seven people in the photo, and the uniform had the number “7”…
Was there anything else related to seven?
Zhou Qian quickly glanced at the nearby bookshelf filled with various titles. Counting, he found that the bookshelf indeed had seven shelves.
At this moment, Jiang Yuqing, the key character in this scenario, finally spoke.
He was leaning on the bed with half-closed eyes, looking quite relaxed.
Seeing so many people enter the room, he didn’t even bother to open his eyes fully, but in a very hoarse voice, he asked, “Osmanthus cake… Did you buy it?”
Answering him was the tall and burly man, He Xiaowei.
“Not yet, Mr. Jiang. Is there anything else you’d like us to do for you?”
Jiang Yuqing muttered some inaudible words and then repeated, “Osmanthus cake. I want osmanthus cake. I want to eat…eat osmanthus cake…”
During this, Zhou Qian remained silent, recalling that the front desk had mentioned that Mr. Jiang was very handsome when he was young. Hence, he took a few more glances at Jiang Yuqing.
Indeed, he looked like a nearly hundred-year-old man, so old that the wrinkles on his face had folded all his facial features together. It was impossible to tell what he originally looked like.
Yet even so, he didn’t appear repugnant. He possessed a special noble aura, which didn’t allow anyone to look down upon him. One couldn’t help but wonder; he must have been a breathtakingly handsome man in his youth.
A moment later, after trying to communicate with Jiang Yuqing but achieving no results, He Xiaowei scratched his head and whispered to the other players, “I think Mr. Jiang seems a bit out of it. Does he have dementia?”
Lu Mengmeng, who hadn’t spoken much during the journey, remarked, “Our mission this time seems related to fulfilling Jiang Yuqing’s last wish. What if… he’s forgotten his own wish, and it’s up to us to find it? But how do we go about that?”
“Hey bro, you’re quite sharp,” He Xiaowei genuinely complimented him. “But what should we do next?”
Yun Xiangrong took over the conversation. “Didn’t the system say that we need to actively look for clues? We should start now since there’s nothing else going on. However, considering both the receptionist and the elderly caretakers said we should take good care of Jiang Yuqing…”
She pointed to a red button beside the bed, adding, “Although there’s a service call button here, if he needs something and we don’t attend to him in time, there might be issues.
“So, it’s better if we split into two teams. One group stays in the ward to watch over Jiang Yuqing, and the other goes to explore the other places on the seventh floor. Later, we can share our findings.”
Yun Xiangrong was indeed an intelligent girl; her suggestion was very prudent and reasonable.
But for it to be fully effective, there was a prerequisite—the players splitting into teams should trust each other and share all the information.
Zhou Qian, Yun Xiangrong, and Gao Shan knew each other. The other three seemed to be strangers.
From Yun Xiangrong’s perspective, if she reluctantly trusted Zhou Qian and didn’t want to be separated from Gao Shan, the best choice would be for her and Gao Shan to be in one group, with Zhou Qian in the other; after the two groups finished their exploration, they could exchange information.
As expected, Yun Xiangrong’s gaze subtly shifted towards Zhou Qian. “Gao Shan and I will stay in the ward. The rest of you…”
Picking up on her hint, Zhou Qian was the first to turn and walk out. “Alright, I’ll search the other rooms for clues.”
When opening the door to room 701, Zhou Qian didn’t immediately leave but kept an eye on the situation behind him.
That was when he heard He Xiaowei’s voice. “I’ll also go outside and look around. There’s not much in this room, and it’s boring to just stare at an old man who’s out of it.”
“Then… I’ll go too. I’m quite curious about how the other rooms in this corridor look,” Lu Mengmeng chimed in.
He Xiaowei said, “Alright, the three of us will go out and explore, while the three of you stay in the room with Jiang Yuqing, waiting to see if there’s any special plot or story. This works perfectly—three people in each team!”
Hearing this and casting a subtle glance behind, Zhou Qian’s pupils shrank slightly as he continued to open the door. So, the ones exploring with him were Lu Mengmeng and He Xiaowei, while Situ Qing chose to stay in the ward.
According to Yun Xiangrong’s grouping, either Lu or He might know Situ Qing.
Why would they pretend not to know each other?
The astute Zhou Qian naturally showed no sign of suspicion on his face.
At this moment, something unexpected happened—three janitors rushed over and opened the door before him.
As they left, the three janitors chatted among themselves.
“Mr. Jiang’s room is fine. Not much cleaning needed there.”
“Right, let’s clean some of the caretakers’ rooms instead.”
“Let’s hurry. The sooner we finish, the sooner we can clock out!”
The sudden appearance and departure of the janitors were somewhat odd.
Zhou Qian quickly observed them and noticed that one of the female janitors was holding Jiang Yuqing’s military uniform.
“Why are you taking Mr. Jiang’s clothes?” Zhou Qian asked without hesitation.
“Shh!” The female janitor anxiously glanced at Jiang Yuqing, relieved to see him staring blankly, seemingly unaware. She then glared at Zhou Qian and said, “Hey, we all work hard for our living. We should understand each other. This uniform must be worth quite a bit. He has dementia and amnesia, so he won’t know if we take it. At most, I’ll share the money with all of you later, okay? Please don’t report me!”
Zhou Qian remained silent for the moment, just waiting for the three janitors to leave. However, he noticed that after they reached the corridor outside the door, the three of them suddenly froze.
Zhou Qian guessed that they originally came to clean the room. But after seeing the military uniform, they stole it, and without even cleaning the room, they hastily tried to escape with the stolen item.
However… if they were in such a hurry to leave, why did they freeze in the corridor?
What did they see?
As the thought crossed his mind, Zhou Qian decisively stepped out of the room, only to find himself momentarily stunned.
Seeing the three janitors and Zhou Qian all standing frozen in the corridor, the other players in room 701 sensed something was amiss. One by one, they came out, and soon, everyone was frozen in the corridor.
The corridor outside wasn’t the same as when they arrived. When they first came, the corridor was straight with a total of 12 rooms, 6 on each side of the elevator.
Room 701 was located at the very end of the corridor near elevator B, and its opposite room was 702. But now, coming out of room 701, the room directly in front was no longer 702. Instead, there was a sign reading “12”. The once straight corridor had transformed into a circular shape.
After a brief pause, the three janitors were the first to move.
Among them, the two women walked to the left, and the man went to the right. However, a few minutes later, they all met again in front of room 701.
Seeing this, Zhou Qian left the door of room 701 and tried walking to his left. After a full circle, he returned to room 701, now having a clearer understanding of the layout.
Opening his mouth, Zhou Qian explained to the other players, “Both elevators have disappeared. The corridor has become circular. There are 12 rooms in this circular corridor, numbered ‘1’ to ‘12’. That means…”
Pointing to the room still marked “701”, Zhou Qian continued, “That means there are now 13 rooms on this floor. There are 12 rooms forming a circle around the 13th room, numbered 1 to 12. Jiang Yuqing’s room, 701, is now in the center, making it the 13th room.”
“When we arrived, the building was square! How could there be a circular floor?
“What’s going on?” He Xiaowei exclaimed in shock.
His voice was very deep, but probably because of his humorous appearance, the fearful shout seemed funny—like a rugged man whining.
“So, room 701, along with its walls, moved to another space as a whole?” Yun Xiangrong frowned. “Is this some kind of supernatural instance? Or some… alternate dimension?”
Hearing her say this, Gao Shan quickly looked inside 701 and then came out. “Jiang Yuqing is asleep. Nothing else has changed. Everything in the room is as usual.”
Here, a few players quickly discussed the current situation.
Meanwhile, the three NPC janitors were also discussing with fearful expressions.
“What’s going on? Why is this happening?”
“I don’t know. Should we… try opening one of the doors to see?”
“Yeah, maybe opening a door will reveal the elevator or some other way out?”
Hearing this discussion, Zhou Qian immediately looked at them.
The female janitor, who had stolen Jiang Yuqing’s uniform and was now wearing it, acted first.
She went straight to room 12, opposite room 701.
The door was unlocked. She pushed it, and with a “creak”, it opened, and she went inside. Shortly after she entered, the door closed on its own with a “click”.
About three seconds later, something unexpected happened.
A gunshot rang out from room 12!
The gunshot, like a thunderbolt on a clear day, jolted everyone present.
Gao Shan quickly shielded Yun Xiangrong, who held onto his collar tightly in return. He Xiaowei turned and leapt, practically hanging onto the door of room 701, looking like a clumsy, large koala. Lu Mengmeng also seemed terrified, closely following He Xiaowei and quietly grabbing the hem of his clothes.
Zhou Qian remained motionless. He propped up one leg and stood leaning against the wall next to room 701’s door, squinting towards room 12.
At that moment, he noticed that Situ Qing didn’t run away; instead, she took a step closer to the door of room 12.
Following the sound of a gunshot came a scream. It came from inside room 12, presumably let out by the female janitor in military attire just before her death.
With a loud bang, the door to room 12 was thrown open, and the janitor ran out.
There was a large bloodstain on her chest, the result of the gunshot she had just received. Not far behind her, a dark figure was raising a gun towards her, but no subsequent shot was fired.
It was a swift, ghost-like silhouette with no discernible features or expressions.
Zhou Qian took a step forward, seemingly trying to see the face of the mysterious person.
However, just then, the door abruptly closed on its own.
As for the janitor, she fell face down on the cold corridor floor, never to breathe again.
He Xiaowei: “What the hell is going on? Why are there gunmen? Is this game supernatural? Fantasy? Sci-fi? Damn it, is it set in a gunfight scenario? We don’t have any guns!”
Gao Shan: “Rongrong, you go back to room 701 first. I’ll stay in the corridor to check.”
Yun Xiangrong: “No way. What if something happens to you? I’ll stay to heal you.”
He Xiaowei retorted, “Damn it, don’t single dogs have rights? I can heal too! Why isn’t anyone teaming up with me?!”
Beside them, seeing their coworker killed like this, the other two janitors were clearly panicking.
One of the women said, “What… What’s happening… We need to get out of here quickly, or we’ll be trapped until we die! I need to go pick up my daughter from school!”
The male janitor responded, “Ah, I told her not to take someone else’s military uniform! This might be karma! We’ll be fine!”
“Right, you’re right… Then… I’ll try another room.”
Swallowing hard, the second female janitor glanced left and right, then chose to enter room 1 next to room 12.
Seeing her move, all the players immediately focused on her. Under their watchful eyes, she entered the room.
Shortly after, the same thing happened as with the previous janitor: a gunshot followed by a scream, and she ran out with an obscured figure with a gun behind her. Finally, the door to room 1 closed, and the second janitor fell into a pool of blood.
“What’s going on…? Can’t we open any doors on this side…?”
The third male janitor murmured.
Seeing the incidents in rooms 12 and 1, he paced back and forth, seemingly on the verge of a breakdown.
“Is this… some kind of endless loop*?”
*Ghost hitting the wall (鬼打墙吗) Idiom describing a phenomenon where a person feels like they’re walking in circles and can’t find their way out (AKA going in circles).
“What the hell is happening…?”
“I need to get out of here. This is too terrifying… Am I going to die too?!”
Muttering to himself, the male janitor ran halfway around the circular corridor to the other side.
Zhou Qian quickly followed, and the other players figured that as long as they didn’t enter those 12 rooms, they wouldn’t be attacked. Since the gunmen in the two rooms didn’t chase anyone into the corridor, everyone else followed as well.
Before their eyes, after hesitating between rooms 6 and 7, the male janitor finally decided to enter room 6. After the door closed, the six players moved closer to get a better view, waiting in silence. But nothing happened this time. No gunshots.
A minute later, the janitor emerged from room 6, looking much more relaxed.
“It’s safe! No one tried to kill me! But there’s no way out in there. I need to keep searching.”
After muttering to himself, he immediately opened the adjacent room 7. Room 7 opened and closed, yet no gunshots ensued. Another minute passed, and the janitor came out again.
“It’s strange. There’s no exit in this room either… How can I get out…”
Holding his head in despair, he slowly made his way back to the opposite side of room 701, with the players in tow.
As they passed by the bodies of the two female janitors, the male janitor sighed, seemingly lamenting their deaths. He then looked up, his gaze drifting from one room to another in confusion.
“A’Hua went into Room 12 and died; Xiao Wang went into Room 1 and died; I went to Rooms 6 and 7 and didn’t die… but I also didn’t find the way out. I can’t die trapped here…” Mumbling these words, he approached Room 2.
“Room 12, Room 1… people died in both. It can’t be that there are killers in three consecutive rooms, right?”
Having said this, the male janitor pushed the door open and entered Room 2. The door slammed shut. But three seconds later, a gunshot rang out swiftly! The same thing that happened to the previous two female janitors happened to him. It seemed he saw something terrifying and tried to escape from the room. Unfortunately, he was shot in a vital spot and died in the hallway.
Three mysterious gunshot incidents happened so quickly, right before the players’ eyes. After the brutal killings, three janitors lay in the corridor. The air was thick with an unpleasant smell of blood.
Zhou Qian always despised blood. He frowned slightly, standing in front of Room 701, glanced inside through the open door. An elderly Jiang Yuqing was sound asleep, seemingly oblivious to the three shootings outside.
He Xiao Wei roared with a deep voice. “What’s going on? What the hell is this?”
Yun Xiangrong calmly said, “The game designer arranged this plot. Perhaps they want us to find a pattern based on the janitors’ entry and exit from the rooms. It’s a puzzle for us. Among the 12 rooms, some are safe, some are not. We need to find the pattern and explore accordingly.”
Gao Shan seriously added, “But it seems difficult; I can’t discern any pattern.”
Just as Gao Shan finished speaking, all six players received a system notification:
[Players triggered side quest ①: “Checks and Balance”]
[Time limit for completion: One hour]
[12 rooms contain 12 important pieces of evidence. Players must find all evidence to clear the stage.]
[Note: Once the bullets in the rooms are fired by the killer, they have a 100% hit rate】
He Xiaowei: “What does this mean? Side quests? Does that mean we can skip this task?”
Gao Shan: “But if we don’t take the side quest… will we be trapped here forever?”
Yun Xiangrong raised an eyebrow, looking at Zhou Qian, who was heading into Room 701. Shaking her head, she said with a smirk, “Even if we don’t want to do the side quest, Qian Ge will probably force us to.”
He Xiaowei, who was unfamiliar with Zhou Qian’s methods, innocently asked, “Huh? What do you mean?”
A few seconds later, sure enough, Zhou Qian’s voice echoed from the room. “Just observing the manner of death of those three janitors won’t help us find the pattern. We probably need to search Room 701 for more clues. Let’s all come in and look for hints.”
Upon hearing this, Gao Shan looked at Yun Xiangrong and gave her a wink. Yun Xiangrong responded with a “I told you so” look.
Inside the room, Zhou Qian approached a black and white photo. Looking up, he gazed at the seven blurry faces on it. “Will you give me information?”
Reaching out, Zhou Qian touched the photo again. Enduring the unsettling, cold aura, he tried to stay focused to see what would happen next.
Usually, players wouldn’t face a risk of death without any logic or hint at the very beginning. Now they had activated a side quest, and the risk of death was the 12 rooms. So, everything in this room should be safe for the time being.
Yun Xiangrong, Gao Shan, and the others indeed followed Zhou Qian into the room. But they kept their distance, waiting to see what would happen to him.
The black and white photo, looking as if soaked in rain, began to fog. Upon closer inspection, it wasn’t the photo itself that fogged up but rather the images of the seven individuals, as if spirits were converging within the figures, ready to emerge. Seeing this, Yun and Gao tightly held each other’s hands with a tense expression.
But Zhou Qian was closest. He touched the photo and felt an overwhelming sadness. This sensation was very strange for him. Zhou Qian had been emotionally numb for a long time. Although he wasn’t completely void of emotions, his emotional reactions were extremely muted. But now, it was as if the heart of someone in the photo was directly placed into his chest, making him feel an indescribable sadness deep within.
Directly in front of Zhou Qian, a strange scene suddenly appeared.
It seemed to be inside an old house from the Republic of China era. A man was bent over a table, writing poetry beside a white candle.
The man was tall and had an exceptionally refined and calm demeanor. Through a mist of clouds and fog, Zhou Qian couldn’t make out his facial features clearly, but he could vaguely see that the man was very handsome.
Zhou Qian silently watched him finish a poem—
“You ask of my return, yet there’s no set date; rain falls on the Bashan mountains, filling the autumn pond.”
“When shall we together snip a candle at the western window and talk of the rain on Bashan at night?”
His handwriting was in a neat regular script, both elegant and bold. Zhou Qian’s own handwriting resembled chicken scratch, but Bai Zhou’s handwriting was excellent. Thus, Zhou Qian always had a soft spot for those with good penmanship.
In the scene, after finishing the poem, the man let out a deep sigh. Instead of sending out the poem, he surprisingly burned it in the flame of the white candle.
Zhou Qian felt as if his heart was beating in tandem with the man’s. Now, his heart felt as though it was being squeezed, as if it was being consumed by the flames with the poetry lines, causing waves of burning dull pain.
This unique empathetic force from the photo brought Zhou Qian a long-lost sadness. He squinted and continued to watch the man in the scene, attempting to ask, “Why did you burn it? Who did you write this poem for?”
Affected by the sadness, Zhou Qian’s voice was unusually hoarse and heavy. The man in the scene seemed to hear him and looked up at him.
“It’s you, you all came! You’re really here!”
“Am I seeing this right?!”
“It’s great… even if it’s an illusion… I can see you in my lifetime. It’s wonderful.”
Who does this “you all” refer to? Is it referring to our group of players? Can you in the photo see the “us” in this room?
With a thoughtful squint, Zhou Qian saw the man quickly write two more lines and handed the paper to him.
Taking the paper, before he could read it closely, a sudden downpour obscured the scene. In no time, the man, furniture, candlestick, the antique room… all were drenched, distorted, and blurred, becoming a yellow-tinted black and white, finally merging with the color of the photo.
After a brief moment of realization, Zhou Qian looked up to see the same strange black and white photo. He was back in room 701. Everything that just happened seemed like an illusion he experienced by touching the photo. However, he now held a tangible piece of note.
Beside him, Gao Shan, Yun Xiangrong, He Xiao Wei, and Lu Mengmeng quickly gathered around to see the two lines written on the note.
Yun Xiangrong: “This must be a clue!”
He Xiaowei: “Definitely! These two lines must hint at the pattern of those 12 rooms!”
The peculiar feelings inside Zhou Qian faded, and his sensations became blurry, indifferent to joy or sorrow. He then looked at the note. The two lines the man in the photo wrote to him were—
[The lowest ranked cannot be kill!]
[Balance of power is the only solution!]
……
Outside room 701, looking at the players inside, Situ Qing raised her wrist and glanced at the system panel popping up on her watch. Her disabled younger brother, also her gambling partner, sent her a message.
[Your main task is to kill Zhou Qian. No need to focus on completing the side quests.]
[You can try persuading the other players to give up on the side quest. It’s best to win over Yun Xiangrong and Gao Shan; otherwise, they’ll cause trouble.]
After his rounds, Zhou Qian ordered a large box of tiramisu cake and delivered it to a familiar young nurse, trying to persuade Qi Liuxing to stay. The two laughed heartily, as if they were the naive sons of the landlord. They then managed to get three hours of outdoor time.
Leaving the hospital and hailing a cab, the two went to the New Dragon Cemetery.
New Dragon Cemetery was very far from the city and was poorly managed. Of course, because of this, the plots are quite cheap. Zhou Qian speculated that Bai Zhou was buried here partly because of his family’s modest means and couldn’t afford a more expensive plot, and partly because his parents’ affection for him was quite average.
After many years, Zhou Qian found that the management of New Dragon Cemetery was still chaotic. When he reached the reception hall of the management building, all the staff were playing mahjong.
Zhou Qian had prepared plenty of red envelopes in advance. He directly approached each person and handed them out.
“For good luck, for good luck!” he said while distributing the red envelopes, stating his request to change his brother’s tombstone.
Being a poorly managed cemetery, the staff didn’t verify Zhou Qian’s identity. After accepting the red envelopes, two of them happily left their mahjong game, where they had only won or lost a few yuan all afternoon, and led Zhou Qian to Bai Zhou’s grave, immediately removing the tombstone. Zhou Qian then saw the rectangular urn underneath.
The urn was wooden with a simple design. It was only about the size of two adult hands—unbelievably small.
After cremation, only a small portion of the remains were placed in the urn. Zhou Qian found this very regrettable.
In Zhou Qian’s memory, Bai Zhou was always tall. Now only this small amount remained. He vividly imagined the scene at the crematorium—Bai Zhou’s body being cremated, and afterward, his parents probably just casually chose some ashes to put in this small box.
Beside him, one of the workers, who had moved the tombstone, patted his bulging pocket, seemingly pleased with the amount in the red envelope. He smiled at Zhou Qian and said, “Actually, there was no need to remove the old tombstone today! The new one will take some time to make. You can order it today and replace it later.”
The other added, “That’s right. We’re understaffed, and tombstones take a while to make. But if you’re willing to pay more, we can hire more workers to expedite the process—”
The cemetery was located on a hillside, shrouded in mist from a recent drizzle, making the air damp.
Hundreds of tombstones lined up row by row, somewhat orderly. But due to poor management, most of the graves were overgrown with weeds. Leftover offerings from tomb-sweepers, like joss paper and candles, lay scattered on the ground, blending in with the grass, adding to the unique scenery of the cemetery.
Qi Liuxing, who had never been to such a place, looked around curiously.
At the same time, he occasionally shot glances at Zhou Qian, trying hard to keep a straight face. The two workers were also curious about Zhou Qian but were too lazy to inquire further. After realizing Zhou Qian was an easy target, they hoped to extract more money from him.
All three of them stood behind Zhou Qian, so no one saw the grim expression on his face. But when Zhou Qian turned to face them a moment later, his expression was back to normal.
Zhou Qian smiled and said, “The reason I removed the tombstone is mainly that I wanted to replace the urn. Last night, I dreamt of my brother. He said his home was leaking. I was worried that the wooden urn might have been damaged by insects, so I hurried over to check. Now that I see it’s fine, I’m relieved. But since I’m here, I might as well replace the urn.”
After saying this, Zhou Qian turned and squatted down, lifting the urn. He then stood up and asked the two workers, “Will the new tombstone be ready in a week?”
The workers grinned, rubbing their fingers together in a gesture that meant everything was negotiable with money.
“Don’t worry, I’ll pay enough. The tombstone must be made of the best materials. It should be taller, more magnificent, and more luxurious than the others around. Xiao Qi—”
Zhou Qian looked at Qi Liuxing. “I don’t have cash on me. Can you pay for me? Let’s give these two gentlemen a generous tip for their hard work.”
Qi Liuxing: “…”
What kind of weird competitive mentality is that?
Wait a minute? Why am I the one paying? Are you being casual? Not everyone is a second-generation rich kid like you!
Zhou Qian only said to the staff, “Add me on WeChat. Update me anytime. I’ll transfer the money to you whenever?”
The staff quickly replied, “Don’t worry, as long as the payment is settled, we’ll work overtime… Guarantee it will be done in a week!”
“Okay. Then I’ll come to rebury my brother in a week.”
Zhou Qian smiled at the staff holding the urn, slightly nodded towards Qi Liuxing, and then left with him.
Leaving the cemetery, the two hailed a ride towards the city center.
Qi Liuxing thought to himself that this trip was much smoother than expected.
At least they didn’t have to sneak in in the middle of the night and dig the grave themselves.
Those workers were really irresponsible.
Of course, when he sat in the back seat with Zhou Qian, Qi Liuxing’s expression became more and more speechless.
Because he watched as Zhou Qian opened the urn.
Though Qi Liuxing really didn’t want to look, curiosity got the better of him.
Inside the urn were mostly ash-colored powder and some small bone fragments that weren’t fully burned.
Zhou Qian reached in, picking out a small piece of bone to examine closely, even smelling it.
Afterwards, for better light, he even held the bone up to the window.
Looking sideways, Qi Liuxing saw the sunlight shining through the window, illuminating both the bone and half of Zhou Qian’s face.
Under this light, Zhou Qian’s expression looked dreamy. His eyes were intensely focused, with a crazed look.
Then he muttered to himself, “Hmph, is this really human bone?”
Qi Liuxing: “…”
The driver in front: “…”
The driver must have been shocked that he drove in an S-shape.
After a while, Qi Liuxing asked him, “Want to know what I think?”
“Oh?” Zhou Qian turned his gaze, looking at Qi Liuxing curiously. “What’s on your mind, Xiao Qi?”
Qi Liuxing: “I think you’re really insane.”
Zhou Qian: “Oh, I’ve always been that way.”
Qi Liuxing: “…”
Zhou Qian laughed, put the bone back in the urn, and closed the lid.
Then he asked Qi Liuxing, “What’s the deal with the ghost you mentioned earlier? Tell me in detail. What’s your relationship with him?”
Qi Liuxing thought deeply, holding his chest as if holding an invisible sword.
After a while, he began. “What if I told you… I grew up with a ghost. You wouldn’t believe me, right?”
Zhou Qian: “Go on.”
When Qi Liuxing was six, he watched a cartoon.
In it, two brothers were very close.
He envied that and wished for a brother, so he told his parents he wanted a younger brother.
When he said this, his parents looked sad. They told him that he did have a younger brother who died shortly after birth. Qi Liuxing was only two at the time, so he didn’t remember.
Strange events started happening after that.
Qi Liuxing often saw a child two years younger than him who called him “big brother” and was very dependent on him. He felt that he was his real younger brother.
His brother grew up with Qi Liuxing, reading with him, doing homework, attending classes…
Except that no one else could see him, their relationship seemed just like normal brothers.
Qi Liuxing said to Zhou Qian, “I originally thought he was the ghost of my brother, but logically, ghosts don’t grow up. So… I don’t know what’s going on.”
Zhou Qian seemed to understand. “But your parents think it’s your imagination? Or you have schizophrenia?”
“Yes. They thought my condition was getting worse, so they sent me to a psychiatric hospital,” Qi Liuxing said. “When entering this game, the system said… you can exchange gold coins for what you want. I wanted my brother to truly come alive.”
Hearing this, Zhou Qian thoughtfully looked at Qi Liuxing. “So your brother now…”
Qi Liuxing: “Sometimes he comes out, sometimes he doesn’t. Now… Ah, he’s here! Let me introduce you!”
Zhou Qian: “…”
Qi Liuxing sat in the middle of the back seat. He raised his hand and gestured towards the empty seat on his right. “Brother, let me introduce you. This is Zhou Qian. He’s impressive. Thanks to him, I managed to get the hidden reward. Mhm? Okay, I understand.”
Qi Liuxing turned and smiled at Zhou Qian. “My younger brother says he wants to thank you.”
Zhou Qian waved at the empty seat, narrowing his eyes and smiling warmly. “Hello. No need to be polite.”
Suddenly, a sharp, jarring friction sound abruptly rang out.
Accompanied by an emergency brake, the car violently stopped by the roadside.
Qi Liuxing was about to ask the driver if something had happened, like a tire blowout. But he saw the driver stretching out a trembling hand from the front seat. “You should leave. I won’t continue this job.”
“Um, sir, there might be a misunderstanding—” Qi Liuxing realized something and tried to explain.
“No, no, no. Just spare me! I beg you! I have a family!” The driver’s voice was on the verge of breaking down. “It’s hard for me to take ridesharing jobs in my free time! I will never take jobs near the cemetery again! Not even in the daytime!”
Moments later, Qi Liuxing and Zhou Qian stood on the deserted asphalt road at the foot of the hill, feeling the cold wind.
Zhou Qian calmly held an urn against the wind. Occasionally, passersby would see him and immediately keep their distance.
Qi Liuxing shook his head and involuntarily stepped back.
After a while, seeing Zhou Qian making a phone call, Qi Liuxing asked with a strained voice, “Who are you calling? Where are we going now?”
Zhou Qian replied, “When in trouble, we should seek help from the police. So, we’re heading to the police station to find Officer Chen. Let’s see if he can help us identify this or find out how Bai Zhou died.”
……
Two days later. Semi-open instance A711.
The so-called semi-open instance mainly served as a lobby for players and gamblers to discuss matters. It was also known as the game hall.
Only players and gamblers of a certain level could enter, hence the “semi-open”.
At this moment, all the people in the hall were Rank S players with various skills and gamblers with “Senior Gambler” badges.
They held phones or tablets, displaying numerous scenes of players below Rank S tackling different challenges.
In this game, players below Rank S were considered novices. When these novices played, only their respective gamblers could watch live.
But once they finished, their gameplay could be viewed by Rank S and above players and Senior Gamblers.
This way, other players and gamblers had no real-time interference in the novices’ gameplay.
They periodically review novices’ play videos to scout for potential apprentices or recruits for their teams.
For gamblers, it was about selecting future betting subjects to earn more money.
Players like Zhou Qian, being a novice, of course, couldn’t enter such semi-open instances.
Suddenly, a Rank C player appeared at the entrance, undoubtedly drawing attention.
With a cold smirk, the gatekeeper said, “People below Rank S can’t enter.”
The Rank C player was a very beautiful girl.
With a cold beauty and a reserved demeanor, she resembled the typical ice queen.
Facing the gatekeeper, she confidently replied, “I was invited. In fact, without the special invitation [Pass] from the legion, I wouldn’t even know about this place or be able to get here, right?”
“Tsk… Nowadays, novices have no manners.” The gatekeeper sighed.
Having guarded the entrance for a long time, he was well aware of the rules.
Normally, only Rank S players and Senior Gamblers could enter. But legions, aiming to nurture and train novices, had the authority to distribute a certain number of [Pass].
Those novices who received this [Pass] were eligible to visit.
They were considered reserves for the legions, and if they grew appropriately, they could become the backbone of the legion.
Legions were entities formed by highly capable Rank S players who applied through the system.
They were somewhat like guilds in MMORPGs but more complex.
Of course, some highly skilled veteran players could also directly distribute [Passes] to their disciples on their own.
The gatekeeper, despite clearly knowing the person in front of him had a pass, still wanted to give her a hard time. He had no other intention but to get a little bribe from her. Gold coins, useful items, anything would do.
However, the icy beauty in front of him was clearly unbending. She directly took out her pass and slapped it down in front of the gatekeeper with a loud “slap”.
“If you fucking refuse a toast, you’ll be forced to drink a forfeit*. Believe it or not, next time I’ll have someone kill you in the game—”
*(敬酒不吃吃罚酒) Idiom referring to submitting under pressure after turning down the first request.
Before she could finish, the gatekeeper silenced. Because he saw that the pass she presented was issued by the Peach Blossom Legion.
The term “Peach Blossom” in the Peach Blossom Legion came from the famous ancient poem: “Last year at this door, the human face and peach blossoms reflected each other’s red glow*.”
*Line from a poem by Tang Dynasty poet Xin Qiji. It conveys a sense of nostalgia and the fleeting nature of time by juxtaposing the enduring beauty of peach blossoms with the transient beauty of a human face.
The founder was a legendary player known as the “Peach Blossom God”. It was said that when she had the opportunity to see the gods, she emerged from a scarlet peach forest. Her skills were also related to peach blossoms, hence the name.
While Peach Blossom was still active, the Peach Blossom God had been missing for a long time. Rumor had it that after a massive civil war between the game’s legions years ago, the Peach Blossom God disappeared, her whereabouts unknown. This resonated with the phrase: “The human face is gone, but the peach blossoms still smile in the spring breeze*.”
*Also another line. It refers to while the human is gone, the peach blossoms continue to bloom year after year, reflecting the importance of human life.
While the founder vanished, the legion was dormant. Only recently did they become active again, ranking second among all legions.
Just moments ago, the gatekeeper was betting with someone—
“That new player named Zhou Qian seems pretty strong. Do you think Peach Blossom will recruit him?”
“It’s hard to say. The Peach Blossom Legion has peculiar standards for recruitment.”
The gatekeeper soon realized the accuracy of the statement. After all this time, the Peach Blossom Legion was finally attempting to nurture newcomers. But this newcomer wasn’t the outstanding Zhou Qian, but this seemingly unremarkable girl standing before him.
Given that she was chosen by the Peach Blossom Legion, the gatekeeper didn’t dare offend her. He quickly stepped aside.
Before she entered, the gatekeeper accessed her game profile.
[Name: Situ Qing]
[Rank: C]
[Specialty: Long-range Damage; AOE]
[Gambler System Evaluation: Ice Queen; Snow Goddess; Potential DPS Queen]
……
Retrieving her pass, Situ Qing stepped into the game lobby. Despite her proud and cold demeanor, a touch of reverence was evident in her gaze. She had struggled for so long in lower-level instances and thought reaching Rank S was her limit in this game. But now, she realized that Rank S seemed to be just the beginning. This game was even grander than she had imagined.
On a panel in the center of the lobby was a list of the most recent newcomers and their rankings. At the top was the name “Zhou Qian”.
Situ Qing was a classic “potential-type” player, meaning she needed to spend a lot of time leveling up initially, but her power in the later stages would be unimaginably strong, akin to a late bloomer.
Despite being informed of this, Situ Qing couldn’t help feeling a bit downcast. She had struggled for so long to reach Rank C, but Zhou Qian had advanced to Rank D after just one dungeon.
Scanning the lobby while meeting the curious gazes of others, Situ Qing began to explore the game lobby. This was her short-term goal. She hoped to come here in the future without needing a pass.
“Why did Peach Blossom choose her and not Zhou Qian?”
“Have you seen Zhou Qian’s performance? That guy obviously isn’t easy to control. He prefers to lead rather than be led. I guess Peach Blossom likes obedient members. Plus, Zhou Qian’s skills aren’t practical!”
“That makes sense. I remember Situ Qing’s previous system assessment. She’s a potential-type, just like Qi Liuxing. They might be average now, but in the future, they’ll be incredibly strong damage dealers.”
“By the way, has any legion shown interest in Zhou Qian? With his abilities, everyone must be fighting over him, right? He should get a lot of attention.”
“No way he’d be left out!”
“Those who scored nearly or at full marks during their novice phase are all currently legendary players! They’re the leaders of various legions! How can no one want Zhou Qian?”
“Those big shots before, when they were rookies and scored full marks, either had immense positive energy, persuading everyone to cooperate with their charisma; or they relied on unbeatable output and just did it! Otherwise, they were extremely evil, sacrificing teammates… But I haven’t really seen anyone as reckless as Zhou Qian.”
“Yes, that’s the point. People like Zhou Qian are too dangerous. People like him… if you can’t get them, you must kill them before they grow stronger. Otherwise, they will be endless trouble!”
“But strangely, it seems like there’s no news about him now! No one is competing for him!”
“Really? No one wants him??”
“In fact, there’s one thing that all of you overlooked.”
A deep male voice suddenly came from the direction of the hall’s entrance. A man in a suit and leather shoes with a refined demeanor walked over. Because he used a special item, no one could see his name. They only knew his codename was [Priest].
Priest’s rank seemed very high, and his background was mysterious; nobody knew which legion he belonged to. He knew many secret messages, often surprising everyone, like a prophet with a third eye. Thus, when everyone saw him coming, they all stopped talking, staring at him, waiting for his big reveal.
Priest directly took out two tablets and placed them side by side on the table. He turned on the left tablet, tapped a few times, and displayed a group of new players entering “Apple Paradise”. He fast-forwarded to when the players first met the Great God Epoh, paused, adjusted the angle, and zoomed in on Epoh’s face for a clear close-up. Then he turned on the right tablet, bringing up the moment Zhou Qian met Epoh, and similarly zoomed in on Epoh.
At this point, it was clear that the facial features and expressions of the two Epohs were identical. In fact, these players had seen different groups of players clear this instance many times before.
Facing the Epoh on the first screen, their feelings were no different than usual, just like seeing an ordinary NPC in a low-level instance. But when they looked at the Epoh before Zhou Qian, they felt something unusual… It was as if that Epoh wasn’t just game data anymore but a living being, as if he would crawl out of the screen the next second and stand before them.
Priest continued to operate the two tablets, trying to analyze the various attribute data of the two Epohs in detail. The left tablet quickly displayed the data of the Great God Epoh NPC, such as HP, MP, attack power, skills, and the like.
But on the right tablet, a message popped up:
[The relevant player has activated advanced permissions and will not publicly display specific attribute values.]
“What the hell? Advanced permissions?”
“I know what advanced permissions mean! That’s… it’s a privilege only for god-tier players! Wait, I think I’ve encountered this situation before. This is, this is…”
“Priest? Care to explain?”
“I got it! A god-tier player loaded their consciousness into the body of an NPC in the instance! Under these circumstances, he can’t control the NPC, can’t OOC*, and can’t interfere with the instance…”
*Out of character. Basically, they have to follow the plot.
“It’s as if he attached his mental consciousness to the NPC, watching regular players play the game without affecting the game!”
“They do this to select ‘Shepherds’ for themselves! So, which god-tier player did this?”
“He closed our query permissions because he was worried that his health and skills would also be displayed. He doesn’t want us to recognize him!”
Those who were in this hall, to put it nicely, were all Rank S, but they were the lowest level of Rank S players, always within the range of regular players.
Legends told that the most advanced players were the ones who really opened up the world of gods, stepping into that realm and gaining supreme power through deals with them. Hence, they were called “god-tier players” by regular players. The founders of several major legions were god-tier players.
But no one present had seen them, nor did they know what that supreme power meant.
They only knew that the highest-level god-tier players would occasionally upload their consciousness into the instance, becoming an NPC within, choosing a qualified [Shepherd] for themselves.
It was said that after achieving godhood, god-tier players sometimes experience a loss of mental control.
During those times, they need a qualified [Shepherd] to control them. No matter how powerful or invincible a god-tier player was, if they lost their sanity or went berserk in the instance, they might still fail to clear the level. But if they cooperated well with a [Shepherd], they would be unstoppable.
“Priest, are you suggesting that a god-tier player has chosen Zhou Qian as his Sheperd? Did he become Epoh for Zhou Qian?”
“Even though it’s just their consciousness that’s uploaded, if the NPC gets hurt, the player will feel it too, right? Playing as Epoh, who enjoys pain, how much pain and suffering would that entail!”
“Which god-tier player would do such a thing? Just to observe Zhou Qian? Isn’t this a bit too exaggerated?”
“Before ‘Apple Paradise’, Zhou Qian had already passed the tutorial. How did a god-tier player notice him and immediately turn into Epoh? That’s unbelievable!”
“I’m so curious. I’ve opened the player rankings. Who the hell is that god-tier player?”
“[Scholar], [Blood Demon], and [Hidden Blade]… All these god-tier players are on my list! Who? Who took an interest in Zhou Qian?”
In response to everyone’s queries, Priest’s expression was somewhat inscrutable. “I don’t know who this god-tier player is, but if you keep looking, you’ll be able to guess soon.”
“Why?”
“If Zhou Qian is someone a god-tier player is interested in, then if the other god-tier players can’t have him, they’ll likely resort to killing him.”
……
Having overheard everything happening in the hall, Situ Qing entered a private room in the tea area. Inside, a pale, thin young man with a somewhat gloomy look was sitting.
“Any initial thoughts on this place?” the man asked her.
“My worldview has been turned upside down. What will become of this game in the future?” Situ Qing inquired.
“All you need to know is that you’ll possess immense power and be able to achieve your desires.” The man chuckled. “So, how do you feel now? Want to join the Peach Blossom Legion?”
“For someone weak like you… You’re not even a player. Why are you part of the legion?” Situ Qing was puzzled.
The man laughed. “Because I’m smart. Through this period, with the help I provided for you in clearing the instances, you should have felt it, right?”
After a moment of silence, Situ Qing countered, “You said before, if I want to join the Peach Blossom Legion, there’s a condition?”
“Yes. There’s a player named Zhou Qian. Due to his high score, the system will open a special instance for him called ‘Last Wish’. Given his personality, he will definitely go directly to this instance. The Peach Blossom Legion will provide you with an entrance ticket for ‘Last Wish’. This type of instance is rarely open, and as long as you and he make choices around the same time, you’ll definitely be matched together.” With a stern look, the man said, “Kill Zhou Qian in ‘Last Wish’, and that’s the condition for joining the Peach Blossom Legion.”
Situ Qing frowned. She was somewhat aware of Zhou Qian’s capabilities.
Seemingly sensing her hesitation, the man said, “He’s only Rank D, with an HP of just 2,000. Your HP is twice his. Besides, you have my real-time assistance. Furthermore—I’ve found a great helper for you.”
“Helper? Who?” Situ Qing was suspicious.
“You just went to a newbie instance to farm experience, right? You’ve gained a little fan. You saved him, so he’ll listen to you.”
“You mean… Lu Mengmeng?” Situ Qing furrowed her brows.
The man confirmed, “Yes. You both live in Spring Hill Asylum Zone 2. When you leave here later, find him and persuade him to cooperate with you. Tell him that if he performs well, he can also join the Peach Blossom Legion.”
“I don’t quite get it. That Lu Mengmeng is weak in every aspect.” Situ Qing asked with some surprise, “Why choose him?”
“Because his gambler is Zhu Qiang. Zhou Qian’s gambler is Yu Xian. And Yu Xian and Zhu Qiang are a pair of unemployed best friends. So…” the man grinned, “Are you ready to watch the drama of two brothers turning against each other?”
Situ Qing fell silent. She looked out the window. It was a false landscape constructed by virtual space—the moonlight covered the valley, making it look like a fairyland. The moonlight was breathtakingly beautiful. But every time she approached the valley, trying to reach out and grasp it, she always came up empty-handed.
“Don’t be afraid. I know, for my sake, you would surely kill Zhou Qian and survive.”
The man pushed the wheelchair forward toward Situ Qing, then leaned close to her ear, whispering the gentlest yet seemingly most cruel words.
“My dearest sister, I am your most devout gambler.”
……
Spring Hill Mental Hospital Zone 1, at the edge of the outdoor activity area, near the small river.
[Player Zhou Qian, you have not chosen the next instance to log into. The system reminds you to make a choice as soon as possible.]
[Due to your outstanding initial evaluation results, the special instance “Last Wish” with hidden rewards has been specially opened for you.]
[For players who have reached Rank E, some rules have been updated. Click to view the detailed introduction of the updated gambler system.]
[Currently, you and your gambler cannot enter semi-open instances and meet directly online. However, before the game starts, the gambler and player can have a video call to get to know each other better.]
[Whether the player passes or not affects whether the gamblers can receive rewards. Thus, gamblers can help players pass through their understanding of the game. During the game, gamblers can send message hints to players.]
[Please note that during the game, players cannot contact gamblers; gamblers can only send messages to players unilaterally.]
[At this stage, every game played by a player will be archived and can be searched and viewed by advanced gamblers; the higher your current score, the more likely you are to attract their attention; in the future, they will provide great help on your gaming journey.]
When Zhou Qian received this message, he was in the rest area, holding a binoculars, and preparing to climb a tree.
He casually asked Qi Liuxing, “So, at this stage, each player is only bound to one gambler, and the gambler can see our game performance in real-time. Players above Rank F can receive message hints from gamblers during the game?”
“Yes,” Qi Liuxing replied.
Zhou Qian asked, “But how come I see that Dong Xiang, you, Yun Xiangrong, and Gao Shan seem to not receive any hints?”
Qi Liuxing: “Perhaps our gamblers are too weak, weaker than us.”
“This system is quite strange. Think about it, gamblers just watch from outside, unlike us, who immerse ourselves in the game. How can they know more than us? Besides, while we risk our lives, they benefit from the sidelines… How is this fair? Something feels off.”
At this stage, each player had one gambler.
But a player’s performance could attract the attention of advanced gamblers.
In the future, when a player upgraded to Rank S, many advanced gamblers might bet on this player, realizing mutual prosperity and loss.
But as Qi Liuxing doubted, is it that easy for gamblers to reap without sowing?
Thoughts crossed Zhou Qian’s mind, but he temporarily set them aside.
As usual, he climbed the tree and began observing the building on the opposite side with his binoculars.
Qi Liuxing sat beneath the tree, bored, having kept watch for Zhou Qian for several days.
Yawning and looking up, he saw Zhou Qian with the high-powered binoculars, observing intently. Qi Liuxing joked, “If you were a woman, you’d turn into a ‘wife-waiting stone*’.”
*This is referring to a legend that tells of a devoted wife who waited for her husband to return from a journey. She waited for so long that she eventually turned into a stone statue, gazing in the direction her husband left. Nowadays, there are many stones that are labeled as this providing tourist attractions.
“Huh? Can’t a man wait for his husband?”
“??”
“Sorry, you’re too young.”
“…???”
Qi Liuxing: “So, did you see anything?”
Zhou Qian shook his head. “That person has been lying down. Nothing different from usual.”
Qi Liuxing, at a loss for words, changed the topic. “Hey, what about the ashes?”
Zhou Qian: “Chen Yangzhou said the results are still pending. We don’t know if those ashes are fake.”
“Okay…” Qi Liuxing asked again, “Where are you heading for the next instance? Do you want to go to ‘Last Wish’?”
“Yes.” Zhou Qian nodded. “This instance is also open to Gao Shan and Yun Xiangrong. They replied that they are willing to team up.”
“So… have you chosen what to add to your skills?” Qi Liuxing inquired further.
Zhou Qian: “Team control.”
Upon noticing Qi Liuxing’s hesitance, Zhou Qian looked down to find an awkward expression on his face, even his ears turning a shade of red.
“What’s wrong?” Zhou Qian asked him.
Qi Liuxing remained silent, his ears reddening further. After a while, he finally said, “Promise you won’t laugh at me.”
Zhou Qian raised two fingers. “I promise I won’t.”
“Well… would you like to form a team with me?” Qi Liuxing asked.
*Courage of a swordsman and the soul of a musician (剑胆琴心). Metaphor referring to someone who’s courageous and sentimental. This is often used in old novels, mostly to describe talented scholars who are capable in writing and martial arts (thus why Zhou Qian replied like so below).
Zhou Qian laughed. “As expected, an ancient-styled, chuunibyou.”
Qi Liuxing looked irritated. “You just said you wouldn’t make fun of me!”
Watching as Qi Liuxing, trying hard to keep a straight face, became redder by the moment, Zhou Qian stopped teasing him. “What made you think of this?”
Qi Liuxing pointed to his system panel. “The system extracts gamblers’ opinions of me, combines them with my performance, and plans my development. The system suggested that I not go to the ‘Last Wish’ for my next instance but to a specially customized instance. The reward for that instance is a musical instrument that matches my skills very well. So if you’re willing, you can join me and then possess skills related to the musician.”
“What are the musician’s skills?”
“Probably a healer. I’m not sure.”
“Oh, then never mind.”
“…………”
Catching a glimpse of Qi Liuxing’s disappointed look, Zhou Qian said, “I’m not interested in the whole healer thing. But we can still form a small team in the future.”
“Mm… That works too!” Qi Liuxing quickly smiled. “Let’s also invite Yun Xiangrong and Gao Shan!”
Regarding Qi Liuxing’s proposal, Zhou Qian didn’t commit either way, but just gave him a few more glances. He could sense that ever since he blocked for Qi Liuxing, the young man’s attitude towards him had changed. Beneath the aloof and rebellious facade, he was genuinely naive.
Having grown up at that age himself, Zhou Qian understood the mindset of young people. At that age, it was easy to believe in forever. They often think that a promised lifetime means an actual lifetime and that a recognized friend can remain a friend for life.
In truth, Zhou Qian had been taking advantage of this. Playing this game requires teammates. Qi Liuxing was clearly a promising DPS. He might even become a Sword Master in the future. So Zhou Qian needed him on his team, preferably following his every command. Every move he made in the game, including every word he said to Qi Liuxing, had a purpose: to make Qi Liuxing grateful, feeling indebted, and ultimately become an obedient teammate.
Nevertheless, Zhou Qian asked, “Why are you willing to team up with me?”
Regarding his own schemes, Zhou Qian was blunt. “But you should know, I’ve been using you all along.”
Qi Liuxing was taken aback. “…”
Jumping down from the tree and looking straight into Qi Liuxing’s eyes, Zhou Qian continued, “The reason I shielded you was because I knew I wouldn’t die. Even if I wasn’t 100% sure, I had at least 90% certainty. I did that to make you wholeheartedly follow my orders and help me get the hidden achievement. Knowing this, would you still want to team up with me?”
“Why… Why are you putting it like this…” Qi Liuxing frowned.
Zhou Qian smiled at him. “Being so blunt?”
Qi Liuxing: “Yes, blunt… and what you said seems too opportunistic. I still don’t believe you used me entirely. Because at that moment, the most dangerous part was over. You didn’t actually need me afterward…”
Zhou Qian shook his head. “That’s uncertain. I might have guessed the general course of events, but not all of it. When the believers who ate the apple would be punished by Epoh and stop attacking us, I had no idea. So, from my perspective, we might still face a significant crisis. If you were genuinely moved because I blocked for you, I might ask you to take a hit for me later, maybe even die for me.”
Qi Liuxing fell silent, leaning his head against the tree trunk, his face slightly pale and his expression rigid. Zhou Qian asked, “So, do you no longer wish to team up with me?”
“I…” Qi Liuxing spoke softly. “I don’t mind. I mean… no, I still believe you’re not as bad as you say.”
He looked up confidently. “It was a level 1 instance. Although the hidden achievement is hard to get, they wouldn’t give us no chance at all. Those deified believers wouldn’t attack us endlessly. The last and strongest one was already Rank B, and it’s safe to say he was the final boss! So you must have calculated correctly. You didn’t use me.”
“You’re saying I didn’t use you then… but I might in the future?” Zhou Qian laughed again. “Like now, when you seem to trust me a lot.”
Qi Liuxing: “Why do you always paint yourself in such a bad light?”
“Because it’s essential to put the unpleasant words out first.” Zhou Qian stopped smiling and became serious.
“Qi Liuxing, I’m not a good person to begin with. You should assume that I am as bad as I say. If under these circumstances, you’re still willing to team up with me, I welcome it. If not, we can part on good terms—”
He paused, then added, “It’s better for you to see this side of me now rather than doubting my intentions in a critical in-game situation, refusing to follow my orders, and jeopardizing my plans. So—”
Staring deeply at Qi Liuxing, Zhou Qian asked again, “Are you willing?”
To Zhou Qian’s relief, Qi Liuxing didn’t agree immediately but pondered for a full ten minutes.
It seemed as if he was reviewing the entire game in that time.
In the end, he said, “I’m willing to team up with you, and I trust you. Not just about your character, but… your intelligence. Right—”
“I have one last question.”
“What question?”
“Why did Gao Shan and Yun Xiangrong, who had already fled to the treehouse, come back to help me? You couldn’t have possibly foreseen that.”
“Oh, it’s simple. Because I threatened them,” Zhou Qian casually said.
Qi Liuxing: “?”
“I traded them some small items and gold through the market and left a message—that they shouldn’t think they’re safe there. I’ll attract the believers there. If one of us dies, we all die.”
“…”
Zhou Qian chuckled, climbed back up the tree, and peered through his binoculars.
However, his expression quickly changed.
With both hands, he gripped the binoculars tightly.
Room No. 03X87 was unexpectedly empty! When did the person inside leave?
Shortly after, Zhou Qian’s wristwatch vibrated.
He checked it and saw a message from a stranger.
The person’s name didn’t show up in the system.
He only had a title, which read [Hidden Blade].
Seemingly sensing something, Qi Liuxing on the ground below asked, “What happened?”
With a tone half mocking, half serious, Zhou Qian replied, “Someone wants to take me as an apprentice.”
“Holy shit, is a max-level big shot coming to our newbie village to recruit disciples?” Qi Liuxing was curious.
Zhou Qian hissed, “While we’re fighting tooth and nail in the game, low-level gamblers watch our moves in real-time. High-level gamblers watch replays afterwards. Then there’s a group of Rank S players watching, considering whether to invite us to their legions or take us as apprentices… Xiao Qi, doesn’t that piss you off?”
“It is infuriating. So, are you going to accept him as your master?” Qi Liuxing asked curiously.
“No,” Zhou Qian decisively replied.
“But I won’t refuse him outright. I’ll just leave him hanging.”
“A person who won’t even show me their name isn’t sincere. Who knows what kind of tricks they’re playing? I don’t get played by others. Hmm, [Hidden Blade]? That title is intriguing. I must find an opportunity… to turn the tables on him.”
“…As a friend, he will always be remembered by us. May he find peace in the next life. Bow.”
As the host’s voice fell, Ling Xiao bent down deeply with everyone else. When he stood up, tears streamed down his face.
Students lined up to offer the flowers they held in their hands and then silently returned to give Ling Xiao, who stood at the front of the line, a silent embrace. Ling Xiao attended as a close friend of Ping Zong. However, since that incident, Lan Sheng was forcibly isolated by the school authorities and couldn’t even attend the farewell ceremony.
Ying Feng was the last to come forward to say goodbye. He didn’t offer flowers but handed something to Ling Xiao. Ling Xiao looked at the tattered cloth in his hand, a piece cut from Lan Sheng’s cuff. Tears fell like rain.
In Tianxiu, there were no funerals. Sometimes people even gathered to celebrate death. But tragedies like that of Ping Zong, who passed away before even starting his journey, always evoked deep sorrow.
Many people participated in this farewell ceremony—the principal, instructors, students, even the school doctor and her Qizi who didn’t belong to this academy. They stood at the end of the line, silently watching the grief-stricken students pass by. This was the first time these young ones encountered death, especially of someone they had been close to. The faces of the girls were stained with tears, and some boys had red eyes. This was their first real lesson in the harsh reality of the Tianxiu coming-of-age ceremony.
In the end, only a few remained in the hall. Ling Xiao and his friends couldn’t leave him alone. Ying Feng surprisingly stayed as well. The principal and Yao Tai exchanged glances, then approached Ling Xiao.
“Please do not blame Dr. Yao. The whole idea was mine. I thought a gentle mobilization would reduce the students’ resistance to the coming-of-age ceremony. I hoped everyone could pass this stage peacefully, but it had the opposite effect.”
“If I hadn’t been so presumptuous, Lan Sheng might not have had such a severe psychological shock. He wouldn’t have taken such a drastic action, and Ping Zong wouldn’t have sacrificed himself. The entire fault lies with me. I sincerely apologize to you and to all my students.”
The principal bowed his head sincerely. Yao Tai wanted to approach but was stopped by Zhi Shang.
He silently shook his head, signaling her not to disturb. This incident was complicated, with no clear blame. Every coming-of-age ceremony brought tragedy. The principal aimed to reduce such tragedies, but who could predict unforeseen outcomes?
Seeing the principal humble himself before the students, Yao Tai felt inexplicably upset. If anyone should apologize, it should be her, as she was more involved.
Ling Xiao turned, facing the principal. Their heights were nearly the same, and their gazes were almost level, like peers.
“Principal, you don’t need to apologize to me. If time could turn back, even if we knew the truth, they would still have the coming-of-age ceremony.”
“I know their strengths well. Ping Zong would win, Lan Sheng would lose, the outcome wouldn’t change. Lan Sheng’s refusal to become a Qizi wouldn’t change either. Whatever choice was made would lead to the same conclusion.”
With tears in his eyes, he looked at Ping Zong’s portrait. “Perhaps when they decided to be together, this outcome was already destined. The mistakes of others merely sped up their journey to that conclusion.”
He approached Zhi Shang, who had changed his glasses since the previous pair was shattered by Ling Xiao outside the emergency room.
“I should be the one apologizing to you, Doctor.”
“No…”
“Please hear me out,” Ling Xiao interrupted. “Not just an apology, but also gratitude. Thank you for teaching me about the coming-of-age ceremony, a lesson so costly I’ll remember it all my life.”
“If I hadn’t felt this deeply, I might not have realized the cruelty of the coming-of-age ceremony. I might have remained naive, joking about Qizhu and their Qizi, daydreaming during biology lessons. Even though I’m physically undeveloped, mentally I’m even more so. Thanks for showing me my naivety and ignorance.”
His gaze was sharp, tears defiantly in his eyes, making it hard for Zhi Shang to meet his gaze.
“But now I understand. As Dr. Yao said, the goal of a Tianxiu person is to become stronger, conquer the strong, and grow even stronger.”
“My previous understanding of strength, my unwillingness to lose in any endeavor, was just arrogance. Thank you for helping me see my real objective.”
He raised his fist, clutching the piece of the cuff. “I swear, in this life, I will never be anyone’s Qizi. I’ll control my destiny, not letting anyone decide my fate. No matter who I face in future coming-of-age ceremonies, even if it’s someone I deeply love, I will never, ever lose.”
……
Yao Tai, weighed down with concerns, had been walking for a while before she realized that someone was following her.
“What do you want?” She stopped and asked Ying Feng.
“The medicine you injected into me last time seems to have worn off.”
Yao Tai was taken aback. “How can that be? It’s only been a few days.”
“I’ve had unusual physical reactions for two days in a row.”
Yao Tai thought for a moment. “Have you been in close contact with anyone who has already awakened?”
Ying Feng recalled that only Zu Yue had confessed to him that evening that he had entered the awakening period, and the medicine seemed to have failed shortly after that.
“There was one time,” he admitted.
Yao Tai advised him, “If the other party has no intention of suppressing the awakening, and you don’t want to be troubled by the physiological reactions caused by the awakening, I suggest you keep your distance from them.”
Ying Feng had no intention of having any dealings with Zu Yue in the first place. “I will.”
“Come with me, and I’ll give you another injection.”
Ying Feng followed Yao Tai back to the medical building. It was evident that she was troubled. As Ying Feng wasn’t much of a talker, the two walked in silence to Yao Tai’s office.
The cool, transparent medicine was once again injected into him, accompanied by Yao Tai’s advice, “Regular interactions won’t cause the medicine to fail. Only intense physical contact can disrupt hormone levels. Just keep that in mind.”
Ying Feng wanted to mention that he had only spoken face-to-face with Zu Yue briefly. But in the end, he chose not to. After all, he had already decided to keep his distance, and further words seemed unnecessary.
“All done,” Yao Tai said after finishing the injection. Ying Feng slowly rolled down his sleeves, stood up, and prepared to leave.
“Thank you for the other night,” Yao Tai suddenly said.
Ying Feng knew she was referring to the matter with Ling Xiao. “It’s nothing.”
“I know. People like you prefer to be alone. If I hadn’t insisted, you wouldn’t bother with others’ affairs, especially considering your relationship with Ling Xiao isn’t that good. But forgive me; I was overwhelmed at the time. I couldn’t just send him away in that state.”
“I understand,” Ying Feng replied succinctly.
Yao Tai looked concerned. “Ever since the incident with Ping Zong, many students who have registered have requested to postpone the coming-of-age ceremony. The start of this year’s awakening period was harsh. I foresee many challenges ahead. But every Tianxiu person has to face this. Avoidance isn’t the solution.”
“I think they just want to prepare better. I believe our race isn’t that mentally fragile. When they’re ready, they’ll face their future.”
“I hope so,” Yao Tai said, looking at Ying Feng, whom she had always been particularly attentive to. “Even if you haven’t found someone you like yet, you should still be prepared.”
“I always remember what Dr. Yao told me,” Ying Feng said. “Especially after yesterday. What Ling Xiao said is also what I believe. No matter who I face in the coming-of-age ceremony in the future, I won’t lose.”
When Ying Feng came out of the medical building, the sky was getting dark, and lights were lit all over the campus. It was still some time before the curfew. With nothing specific to do, Ying Feng decided to go to the training hall. After the series of events in the past couple of days, he wanted to sweat a bit before going to sleep, which he believed would help him rest better.
But when he arrived at the training hall, he was surprised to find lights inside and occasional thudding sounds.
Someone had arrived before him. Not wanting to share the venue during his private time, he was just curious about who had the same idea as him. Taking a peek, he was surprised to find Ling Xiao, who had just sworn an oath at the Ping Zong farewell ceremony.
Ling Xiao had activated two combat robots. Every punch and kick hit their weak points. Several broken robots lay against the wall, indicating Ling Xiao had been training for a while.
Ying Feng had sparred with him before, but Ling Xiao’s eyes seemed sharper, his expression more serious, and his attacks more precise, capturing Ying Feng’s full attention.
As Ying Feng watched intently, Ling Xiao spun and delivered a flying kick, sending one robot flying against the wall. Its chest opened to reveal a white flag of defeat.
Quickly following up, Ling Xiao kicked the second robot, which flew straight at Ying Feng. Reacting instinctively, Ying Feng punched it, sending the second robot rolling to one side.
“You were spying,” Ling Xiao called out from a distance.
Ying Feng didn’t bother to argue, especially since he was indeed watching secretly.
“I didn’t expect anyone to be here so late.”
“I need to become stronger,” Ling Xiao said with determination. “I won’t lose to anyone in the coming-of-age ceremony. I’ve sworn it.”
“Same.”
Ling Xiao tilted his head. “Then, would you like to train together? Our last duel doesn’t count. I hope you won’t choke this time.”
Ying Feng began to unbutton his uniform one by one, took it off and threw it to the side, then methodically rolled up his sleeves.
“Last time was an accident; I won’t hold back this time.”
Inside the training hall, the two were evenly matched, and for the first time, both found such an invigorating duel.
They fought until both were completely drained. The duel finally came to an end with Ling Xiao sprawled unceremoniously on the floor, sweat drenching the ground as his chest heaved.
Ying Feng wasn’t faring much better. He sat against the wall, one hand resting on a bent knee, drenched in sweat and gasping for air.
“It’s been a while since I’ve had such a satisfying fight,” Ling Xiao said between breaths.
Though Ying Feng didn’t voice it, he agreed. Fighting a real opponent, especially one of equal skill, was a completely different experience compared to the predictable robots.
“Even though I’ve always been competitive with you, I have to admit, you are indeed strong,” Ling Xiao expressed his appreciation for Ying Feng for the first time.
After a pause, Ying Feng responded, “So are you.”
“Even so, if one day we face each other in the coming-of-age ceremony,” Ling Xiao said confidently, “I won’t lose.”
“Likewise,” Ying Feng hesitated before adding, “But that’s unlikely to happen. You’re overthinking it.”
Ling Xiao felt as if cold water had been splashed on him. He got up unsteadily. “I still haven’t had enough, but it’s almost curfew.”
Ying Feng also got up, picking up his uniform. He initially came here just to sweat it out, but unexpectedly bumped into Ling Xiao, having such an exhaustive duel. He was certain he’d sleep well tonight.
The two made their way back to the dormitory. As they reached the junction in the corridor, Ling Xiao finally spoke again.
“Hey,” he called.
Ying Feng stopped, waiting for him to speak.
“Do you want to continue tomorrow?” He raised his fist. “Train together.”
In the dim corridor light, his gray eyes sparkled, not because of their color, but the passion they emitted.
“Alright,” Ying Feng couldn’t help but agree, seemingly forgetting the recent past when Ling Xiao had vowed to defeat him in front of the whole class. Just a short while ago, their relationship was at a freezing point.
Seeing a positive response, Ling Xiao genuinely smiled. It was the first time Ying Feng had seen him smile since their last encounter at the medical building. In just three days, he witnessed Ling Xiao’s rebound from his lowest point to his peak. It seemed nothing negative could ever bring him down, not even the pain of losing a dear friend. That pain would only serve as unstoppable momentum for him to move forward.
The author has something to say:
Tip: Fledglings in their (pre)awakening phase, if they haven’t received suppressant injections and have frequent, prolonged physical contact with those who have, might cause the suppressant to fail in the latter. Normal interaction is safe. Not injecting is like the appearance of a normal Earthling, not affecting daily life much, but poses risks.
Yu Zikuan descended the mountain just in time before the activation of the Invitation to God Formation. He decisively placed the small sects he had just escorted down, nonchalantly leaping into the besieged Kushan sect.
“I need to go back.” He spoke rapidly. “This formation is weird. Do you all have any idea?”
Shi Jingzhi glanced at his dirty mask. “This formation is powerful. It’s better for Your Excellency to give up. Zongwu Mountain is too big, and the small sects are running around; there will inevitably be casualties. We do our best and leave the rest to fate. This way…”
Yu Zikuan interrupted him with a trace of bitterness in his voice. “Well, I understand. Everyone, let’s part here.”
Shi Jingzhi sighed. “This formation is clearly designed to drain people’s qi and immobilize them. Those with strong inner force can survive a little longer. But once in the formation, all qi is depleted, and escape is impossible.”
“I know, but A’Zheng is still in there. I must go.” Yu Zikuan shook his head and turned to leave.
“Hold on.”
Yin Ci suddenly spoke up.
He took off the white jade hairband on his head, and his long hair fell instantly. Yin Ci stroked the hairband, then looked at Shi Jingzhi. “This hairband is engraved with a protective spell. The essence of the protection formation is a qi shield. The Invitation to God Formation will consume the shield first, so the person in the shield will still retain some energy, allowing for a little more action.”
Shi Jingzhi suddenly understood. “A’Ci, you wouldn’t—”
“The spell works best when a person is used as material.” Yin Ci smiled; most of the coldness in his smile had dissipated. “However, Shizun forbids me to harm myself, so I can only have him help with this matter.”
With a swipe of the Hanging Shadow Sword, a good chunk of Yin Ci’s long hair was cut off. He quickly tied up the hair. “It just so happens that Shizun’s wounds haven’t healed yet, so just add some blood to it.”
Before he could finish tying his hair, Shi Jingzhi quickly cut off a large chunk of his own. Sect Master Shi alternately stroked his hair with his two injured hands, and the originally black and shiny hair emitted a strong smell of blood.
“The more, the better. It’s best to be well prepared. Here, A’Ci, tie them together.”
Time was urgent. Although Yin Ci felt like he was being teased by this little brat, he didn’t delve into it.
Yin Ci firmly tied the two strands of long hair and handed them along with the hairband to Yu Zikuan. “Take this. Activate the spell as soon as you enter the mountain. The summoning formation is too strong, so it won’t last long. You must go and return quickly.”
Seeing Yu Zikuan open his mouth, Yin Ci frowned and immediately interrupted him. “There’s no need for useless words of thanks. This hairband is my treasured possession. If it doesn’t work, you’d better die somewhere noticeable so I can find it… Now go.”
Yu Zikuan took a deep breath, swallowing the words on the tip of his tongue. He stuffed the bloody hair into his arms and charged straight into Zongwu Mountain.
Shi Jingzhi turned his head instantly. “Treasured possession?”
“I just told the truth.” Yin Ci looked at him with amusement.
“It’s rare to see A’Ci be so enthusiastic.”
Yin Ci looked in the direction Yu Zikuan had left, his smile fading slightly. “As the saying goes, things should not pass in threes, but some things only need to be experienced once*… It’s just empathy.”
*He’s combining two idioms together. The first part, “Nothings should be done three times in a row” comes from Journey to the West, which refers to one should not repeat a mistake more than twice. The second, “but some things only need to be tasted (experienced) once” refers to there are some experiences that one goes through that are so painful or profound that you learn from them immediately.
Losing someone precious and being helpless about it was undoubtedly the most suffocating pain in the world. Yin Ci, accustomed to watching the world’s tragedies with a cold eye, now felt his heart softening, even harboring an almost childish thought—perhaps by helping Yu Zikuan, he could accumulate some merit and prevent a similar misfortune from happening to Shi Jingzhi.
But this idea was too subtle. Even his thick old face couldn’t bear it, and he would never say it out loud.
On Zongwu Mountain, in the hall of the Grand Pavilion.
It felt like taking shelter under the eaves in heavy rain. Yan Zheng’s surroundings warmed up slightly. That oppressive force was blocked by something, allowing him to breathe again.
Yan Zheng straightened his trembling knees, trying hard to lift his eyelids. “Yu Zikuan?”
“Yeah.” Yu Zikuan pushed the mask aside. “Time is limited. Let’s get going first.”
The Invitation to God Formation mercilessly continued to operate. Even a young and powerful person like Yan Zheng was now taking his last breath. The older people, like Elder Kong, had already turned into twisted flesh on the floor, already lifeless.
Yan Zheng moved his dry lips, but no sound came out for a long time. He was angry at Yu Zikuan for being too stubborn, daring to rush back into the deadly formation. However, the fact that “someone was willing to come back for him” made Yan Zheng unable to control the mixed feelings of sour and sweet in his heart.
“I’ve made arrangements for you.” He grabbed Yu Zikuan’s sleeve again, somewhat deliriously. “You have to escort the innocent small sects down the mountain…”
For the past six years, Yan Zheng wasn’t blind to Yu Zikuan’s intentions. He was of the same age as Yu Zikuan’s deceased son, and there were no companions in the mountains. To some extent, Great Warrior Yu projected his feelings onto him. Even if he raised a dog, six years would be enough to accumulate some affection.
So he had already arranged an excuse for Yu Zikuan, saying he couldn’t save himself.
Why did Yu Zikuan come back? And how did he manage to move within this deadly formation? Yan Zheng was extremely weakened, and his mind was muddled.
“They have already gone down the mountain,” Yu Zikuan patiently explained. “This time, I’m here to take you.”
“Your Excellency… I…”
“I know what you want to say. I don’t intend to forgive anyone for their blood debts. As a member of Taiheng, I naturally have to punish the wicked and promote the good.”
Yu Zikuan placed one hand on Yan Zheng’s shoulder.
“Those who don’t repent are to be killed; those who can distinguish between good and evil are to be punished. Yan Zheng, you still have the medical skills of the Yan Clan, which are useful in the world. As one of the enemies of the Ling Sect, I sentence you to save as many people as you have harmed. Are you willing?”
Yan Zheng wavered in place, looking at the bodies of the Ling Sect disciples all around. He stepped down from the position of Patriarch and squeezed out a response.
“Mm.”
Yu Zikuan gave a tired smile. “It’s a deal.”
After saying that, he took out the white jade hairband from his chest and took a hurried look at it. Most of the hair tied within had turned into dust, and it continued to crumble. He held the hairband in his left hand, hoisted Yan Zheng, who was barely breathing, on his right shoulder, and made a full sprint towards the mountain exit.
It seemed as if the pressure of the Invitation to God Formation had significantly increased after discovering these two fish had slipped through the net. The blood-soaked hair seemed to be burned by invisible flames, disappearing at a rapid pace. The protective barrier around the two made faint shattering sounds and was on the verge of collapsing. Despite the impact of the summoning formation’s “sealing movement”, Yu Zikuan, having depleted all his inner force, ran all the way with hardly any qi left.
Every step forward took multiple times the effort. The hair was about to burn out, exposing him under the formation, giving him the feeling as if his whole body was submerged in an icy swamp. As Yu Zikuan’s vision was getting darker, his many years of intuition collided in his mind—
He was about to collapse.
For the unknown origins of the master and disciple from the Kushan Sect, the protection provided by the blood and hair for over half an hour was already extraordinary. Seeing the boundary of the mountain was near, Yu Zikuan gritted his teeth and stuffed the hairband into Yan Zheng’s arms.
Yan Zheng was still young and had been in a state of resting for quite some time, so he could still muster some strength to save himself. He himself had already reached his limit and was afraid he could only stop here.
“Remember to give the hairband… back to Yin Ci from the Kushan Sect,” Yu Zikuan said with difficulty. He put Yan Zheng down on the ground and gave him a push towards the mountain edge. “Go quickly. Don’t look back…”
At this moment of life and death, Yan Zheng actually laughed.
He barely steadied himself and then, in the next moment, propped up Yu Zikuan from the ground. Both of them were extremely weak and nearly fell together.
“The villains of the Ling Sect are still roaming around the world. They need a great warrior like you to monitor them,” Yan Zheng gasped, struggling to hold up the tall and burly Yu Zikuan. “Don’t look back? At this point… I am not that useless. Of course I will look back.”
With the hair completely burned, the protective shield shattered, and with the loss of the vital qi, so did the restraint against the formation. Yan Zheng decisively slit his wrist and sprinkled his blood on the white jade hairband, stubbornly taking one step after another towards the mountain exit. The effect of the blood was limited. Yan Zheng could see his flesh and hair withering and drying, but he still forced himself to maintain his stance, struggling forward, almost falling down.
It felt like the time it takes to make a cup of tea was like a hundred years, but they finally moved out of the edge of the Invitation to God Formation.
The heavy pressure lifted from their bodies, and both of them almost simultaneously fell to the ground. Yan Zheng’s long hair was spread all over the ground. What was originally black as ebony, was now as white as snow.
Both of them fell into a deep coma. The cool breeze along the mountain swept away the fog as dead grass rose and fell with their chests—the rise and fall was slight and slow, but it truly existed.
Compared to them, the situation of several others in the Kushan Sect was even more complicated.
Yan Qing looked at the slowly disappearing corpses and felt a chill run down his spine. The slight relief of defeating Chai Xin completely evaporated from his mind. If Shen Zhu hadn’t encountered Yu Zikuan that night, they would all have been on the mountain by now.
This formation was extremely dangerous. Once it was activated, even self-rescue was impossible. The Taiheng Sect, the Chigou Sect, the smaller sects that came to join in the fun, and the entire Ling Sect would have been caught in the Invitation to God Formation. If the main branch of the Ling Sect was destroyed, the various branches would surely fall into madness, and with the closure of the Jianchen Temple and the recent change of leadership in Taiheng, it was hard to say how long the unrest would last.
On the other hand, the discovery of the Shirou created chaos first, followed by inexplicable casualties from various sects. No one wanted to swallow their own teeth and blood*, and after this change, chaos in the martial world was imminent.
*Idiom referring to suffering a loss or humiliation in silence without being able to vent or express one’s grievances.
This dangerous formation was clearly the root cause of the fire.
But who would benefit from the chaos in the martial world? Yan Qing’s head was spinning, and he couldn’t figure it out. Those who had witnessed the Invitation to God Formation devouring living people also came to their senses and turned their attention back to the Kushan Sect.
No one was a fool. Seeing the scene before them and looking at the actions of the Kushan Sect, anyone with a clear mind could guess a few things. This time, it was hard to say whether “the Kushan Sect got a clue about the Shirou” was true or not, but it was a certainty that they lured them down the mountain.
Jin Lan was the first to speak. “Sect Master Shi, the formation…?”
“That’s a death formation set up by a villain, which we just happened to encounter,” Shi Jingzhi answered with revitalized spirit. “The formation is truly horrifying. We had no other choice but to lie about obtaining clues, hence this last resort.”
While speaking, Sect Master Shi shook the flag in his hand, causing his wound to bleed again. His sincere gaze was so hair-raising that it was as if he was about to say pitifully, “This is all for saving you. You should be thanking the Kushan Sect.”
Unfortunately, his good looks and eyes made his cunningness just right, making it hard for anyone to get angry.
Jin Lan: “…” He was more used to the modest style of people in the martial world and had some difficulty adapting to Sect Master Shi’s audacious manner.
Seeing Jin Lan not responding, Shi Jingzhi deliberately added vital qi to his voice. “We have been standing here for quite a while, and you all have seen our sect’s strength. If we really had the clue, we would have fled long ago. Why would we still be dawdling here?”
“Who knows?” A shout came from a small sect. “Just now you gave that man hair, and that man returned to the mountain. You know exactly how to deal with this formation. Maybe you were the ones who set up this dangerous formation!”
“I heard about the affairs of the Mishan Sect a few days ago. They, the Kushan Sect, are well-versed in battle formations, and they even ruined the Arcane Arts of the Mishan Sect—”
“I think the Sect Master orchestrated everything himself, just to earn everyone’s favor.”
Jin Lan’s heart skipped a beat.
Indeed, he was able to think positively about the situation because he had a decent impression of the Kushan Sect. However, for others, the Kushan Sect no longer had any reputation or credibility to speak of. He didn’t know how Shi Jingzhi could escape from this…
“Hm? Well, it’s not wrong for you to think so.”
Shi Jingzhi smiled and folded his arms behind his back.
“If our sect can form such a deadly formation, then it wouldn’t be difficult to kill all of you. Is it that you all want to refuse a toast only to drink a forfeit?”
Jin Lan numbly looked at Yan Qing, who evasively avoided his questioning gaze. Indeed, he had underestimated the thickness of Sect Master Shi’s face. After all, he hadn’t heard that the Kushan Sect was considered a righteous sect.
Even his disciple was cooperating and unreservedly emitting a thick murderous aura, making people dare not act rashly.
“For those who think they were rescued by my sect and want to return the favor, please share any clues you’ve discovered these days. If you don’t have any clues, you can just thank me loudly.”
“As for the idiots who think that my sect went to great lengths to create this deadly formation just to deceive you into being grateful… According to you, the deadly formation was created by me, the Kushan Sect, so the main branch of the Ling Sect must have been destroyed by my sect, right? The martial world became a bit more peaceful; shouldn’t you pay some reward?”
Sect Master Shi, with his fox eyes half-closed, seemed to be calculating everyone’s debts. Jin Lan, who had been in the martial world for a long time, had never seen such a… such an impolite person.
However, “just saying thank you” was counted as repaying the debt, and it was much better than forcibly seizing or harming lives. Jin Lan sighed inwardly.
Even if he was a wanted person, a favor was a favor. It would be better to withdraw as soon as possible and report the big news of the “destruction of the Ling Sect’s main branch” rather than continue to waste time on this clue. The Ling Sect’s branches were causing trouble, and Taiheng’s manpower was even more insufficient.
Jin Lan reluctantly took a step forward and faced the cheerful Shi Jingzhi. “Taiheng has never liked to owe favors. The findings of these past few days have been organized by my sect, and I will present them to the Sect Master now. Let’s leave it at that for now. Next time we meet, Taiheng will still want to arrest the Kushan Sect.”
With Taiheng taking the lead, the rest of the smaller sects also followed suit. They lined up one by one, either to express their gratitude or provide information. Not to mention the Invitation to God Formation showed no signs of stopping, even if it disappeared immediately, the smaller sects wouldn’t dare approach Zongwu Mountain anymore.
Speaking wouldn’t cause any harm, and it would settle their debts, allowing them to sever ties with the Kushan Sect as soon as possible.
The four people from the Kushan Sect transformed into harvest farmers and began to reap the readily available information. The broken clues piled up like a mountain, and amidst their laughter, a rough outline of the map slowly emerged.
Yin Ci looked at the increasingly cheerful Shi Jingzhi and couldn’t help but feel emotional.
Yan Budu wanted to see the conflict between the sects, so he allowed a sea of people to search. They had to either respond with a carpet-style search or stir up conflicts halfway to seize others’ results. For the Kushan Sect, which didn’t have many people, neither path was easy. Who knew that this fox would actually find a way to solve the problem?
Shi Jingzhi seemed to have eyes on the back of his head. Noticing Yin Ci’s gaze, he slowly turned his head. “A’Ci, how is it? Don’t always be hard on yourself.”
Even pretending to cough, Sect Master Shi teased, “Where is your ‘It won’t happen again’?”
Yin Ci: “I’ll go for a walk around later and look for Yu Zikuan.”
“Okay, I’ll go with you… Wait, don’t change the topic!”
Yin Ci’s gaze softened. He leaned forward, and his warm breath wafted into Shi Jingzhi’s ear. “It won’t happen again.”
When the two servants from the Kushan Sect disappeared from sight, Yan Zheng picked up a long knife from the pile of corpses. He raised it up and swiftly brought it down. Chai Xin’s head separated from his body, leaving behind a slow trickle of blood emerging from his neck. Yan Zheng grabbed the desiccated white hair of the head, holding it in his hand, and turned in the direction of the Grand Pavilion.
The eyes of Chai Xin’s severed head were half-open as filthy blood dripped onto the stone slabs. Yan Zheng, holding the head, looked about 70% similar to Yan Budu of the past, but his aura was too calm, quiet to the point of death, like a dying fire.
“Just go down the mountain,” Yan Zheng said to Yu Zikuan with his back turned, his tone unnaturally cold. “There’s no need to go out of your way to confirm. I won’t run.”
Yu Zikuan frowned but remained silent.
“In the six years we’ve known each other, when have I ever not kept my word?” Yan Zheng stopped walking but still didn’t turn around. “You and I have broken the dam with ant holes*. I have already killed all the talented individuals. This time with Chai Xin’s head, I’ll call back the elders outside the mountain, and there will be no one to stand in my way. By sunset, the Ling Sect’s main branch will be destroyed. You can just watch from outside the mountain.”
*It’s referring to the idiom the embarkment of a thousand miles collapse because of an ant’s nest (千里之堤，溃于蚁穴). It’s a metaphor referring to the importance of paying attention to detail, as ignoring small problems can eventually lead to catastrophic consequences (AKA For want of a nail).
“What about you?” Yu Zikuan finally spoke.
Yan Zheng didn’t answer directly. There was a trace of barely perceptible trembling in his voice. “There are still quite a few small sects left on the mountain that haven’t retreated. Compared to dawdling here, Warrior Yu has more important things to do.”
Chai Xin didn’t bring all his followers with him. If he called everyone back and then left alone, those people would definitely become suspicious. Besides, Chai Xin was right about one thing—for the past eight years, he couldn’t escape the blood debt that the Ling Sect had accumulated under the banner of a “Yan Family’s Descendant”.
When the Invitation to God Formation activated, he would accompany the Ling Sect’s main branch in its burial with his own strength. It was good enough when the dust settled.
“Two days ago, a scout from the Ling Sect reported that there is a small sect stationed in the southwest of Zongwu Mountain. It doesn’t interact with other sects and probably hasn’t received the news. Time is running short. I hope Warrior Yu can lead them down the mountain.”
Yu Zikuan stared at him for a while, then grunted in affirmation.
Yan Zheng used his red clothes to cover his wounds, rising into the air without bidding farewell to Yu Zikuan. Yu Zikuan stood there for a while until Yan Zheng’s figure disappeared in the fog, then he turned and left.
There were still quite a few people left in the Grand Pavilion—most of them were weaklings unfit for battle. When they saw the current Patriarch carrying the head of the former Patriarch, they all held their breath, not daring to make a sound. A few old guys who had been unhappy with Chai Xin were all smiles, and Yan Zheng could guess what they were thinking.
With Chai Xin dead and him only in his early twenties, this bunch of old guys were probably already redrawing the power dynamics in their heads.
Yan Zheng cleared his throat. “Chai Xin planned to monopolize the clues to the Shirou and purposely used the Kushan Sect to spread false news. This Seat got the upper hand, yet he tried to kill me.”
After being immersed in the demonic sect for many years, whether it was lies or bullshit, Yan Zheng could easily spew them out.
Sure enough, the hall immediately filled with cursing. In the Ling Sect, only strength was respected. “Good relations” never existed. Now that the once high and mighty Elder Chai was reduced to a head, even if he asked them to kick it around like a ball, these people would do it.
The flamboyant Elder Kong winked; his tone exceptionally joyous. “All the major sects have been led out of the mountain by that Chai Xin, leaving him as bait. What a poisonous scheme!”
“The Patriarch got the clue. With this, the Chigou Sect will surely be jealous—it’s better to call our brothers back and defend the Grand Pavilion,” someone agreed right away.
“If we retreat, won’t the other sects get suspicious?”
“Who cares, Zongwu Mountain is easy to defend and hard to attack. It’s better than wasting our strength…”
Yan Zheng sat in the Patriarch’s chair, his body hurting to the point of numbness as fresh blood continued soaking the lining of his outer robe. Chai Xin’s head tilted at his feet, while the hall was still filled with the scent of wine and laughter.
He could hardly hide the irony in his smile. “Exactly, let’s call all our brothers back. Once everyone is here, I have an important announcement. Now that Chai Xin is dead, the positions of the elders need to be reassigned.”
The hall erupted with a mix of cheers, roars, and strange laughter. Seeing the messenger leave, Yan Zheng didn’t bother to bandage his wounds. He stepped on Chai Xin’s head, picked up a jug of wine, and coldly watched the chaos below.
For the first time, the “monkeys” in front of him, who were shouting and screaming, didn’t make him feel despair.
Blood slowly drained from his body, and the noise around him blurred into one. Yan Zheng looked pale as he turned to the window of the Grand Pavilion, where light was shining through. The fog outside the pavilion hadn’t dispersed, and he could only see the oppressive silhouette of the mountain.
He wondered if Yu Zikuan had left yet.
The liquor in his throat tasted slightly bitter, and the scent of blood hung heavily around his feet. It was at this moment that Yan Zheng finally realized: Everything was about to come to an end.
What a long six years it had been.
When he found out that Chai Xin was the true mastermind, Yan Zheng had considered simpler methods of revenge. He had tried to poison him, assassinate him, and launch numerous sneak attacks. However, Chai Xin had survived in the demonic sect for far too long. The murderous intent of a fifteen-year-old boy seemed no different to him than a kitten’s scratch.
Chai Xin even praised Yan Zheng from time to time. [Not bad, you’re ambitious for power at such a young age. You really do have the makings of a member of the Ling Sect.]
Yan Zheng had tried to build his own power base, but he didn’t understand how to coerce or persuade, and every member of the Ling Sect had their quirks. He tried his utmost for half a year, but in the end, he was helpless. His enemy was within reach, yet he couldn’t kill him no matter what. Besides being a puppet leader, it seemed he had no other choice.
During this half-year, news gradually spread that “the Ling Sect now has a ‘ghost eye’ leader”. The various branches developed rapidly, and the number of people killed by the Ling Sect doubled. The originally declining Ling Sect was gradually showing signs of revival.
So, Yan Zheng thought of death.
Death was the ultimate defiance; it would shatter the Ling Sect’s signboard of “a descendant of the Yan Clan”. It was his last counterattack and his only remaining path to redemption.
On a certain day, a Ling Sect side branch took back a large area in the northwest, and the followers celebrated wildly, torturing civilians for fun in the halls. The lights in the Grand Pavilion flickered, and fresh blood stained the newly painted beams. Amid the orderly chaos, Yan Zheng sneaked into a corpse cart and quietly left.
He had to die in a noticeable place, such as the entrance to Zongwu Mountain.
But before Yan Zheng could reach his destination, an arrow pierced his shoulder without warning. In the blink of an eye, a shining sword was pointing at his throat.
“Indeed, you are the bastard of the Yan Clan.” The man’s eyes were bloodshot and full of hatred. “I’ve been following you for so long. I didn’t expect you to make it so easy.”
Recognizing the man’s Taihang Sect attire, Yan Zheng quickly realized his situation. This wasn’t so bad. If he were killed by someone from the Taihang Sect, the news would spread even faster.
Yan Zheng didn’t scream or curse. He just sat on the ground, holding his arrow wound, silent.
The man paused for a moment. “Before I take your life, I have something to ask. Is Lu Fengxi, from your sect, currently at the main branch? How long will he stay at Zongwu Mountain?”
“I can tell you, but I have a condition.”
The man sneered. “If you want to beg for mercy…”
“I hope Your Excellency will make it quick.” Yan Zheng looked at the damp ground beneath his knees. “You can do what you want with This Seat’s body. Even if you hang it at the foot of Zongwu Mountain, I won’t have any complaints.”
The man eyed him suspiciously for a moment, then sheathed his sword. “Speak.”
“Is Your Excellency Yu Zikuan, the Great Warrior of the Yu Clan? In recent years, the only Taihang-related people killed by Lu Fengxi are Mrs. He, the wife of Yu Zikuan from Taihang, and their only son, Yu Qiuwen.”
“Correct,” Yu Zikuan said hoarsely. “You are a small puppet, but you seem to know a lot.”
“Lu Fengxi is repairing weapons at the main branch and will stay for about ten days. His staff is complex, and he needs to go down the mountain personally to select materials. If you want to take action, you can wait for him to leave the mountain.”
After finishing speaking, Yan Zheng closed his eyes, showing a relieved expression.
“I’ve told you what you wanted to know; now it’s your turn to fulfill your promise.”
Yu Zikuan, an elder of Taihang, was well known for his passionate nature. After his wife and child tragically died, he caused quite a stir in the martial world. Now, Yu Zikuan seemed half-mad, with his reason mostly gone, and he wouldn’t hesitate just because Yan Zheng was young.
It seemed fate was on his side.
The man made a slight movement, his boots grinding against the dirt. However, the next moment, pain didn’t come from his neck or chest but from his scalp—Yu Zikuan grabbed his hair, forcing Yan Zheng to stand.
“I don’t know why you want to die, and I don’t care about the internal affairs of a demonic sect.” Yu Zikuan sneered. “But you, after all, possess the ghost eye of the Yan Clan. It would be a waste to just let you die.”
Yan Zheng opened his eyes, looking at him expressionlessly.
Yu Zikuan’s face turned sinister. “Kid, since you want to die, it seems you don’t like the Ling Sect very much. Since you are going to die anyway, why not let me use you first.”
“I have no value to be used.” Yan Zheng spoke softly. “As you said, I am just a puppet.”
“For a half-grown kid like you, it’s natural that you can’t fight a bunch of old lunatics. As for power tactics and people-reading skills, I’ll teach you. If we work together, it’s not impossible to bring down the Ling Sect.”
“You trust me?” Yan Zheng’s words carried a hint of sarcasm.
Yu Zikuan chuckled and took out a pill from his pocket, pushing it into Yan Zheng’s throat. “This is a blood gu* from the Gu Tower. I was planning to use it on Lu Fengxi. But now it seems that feeding it to you is more suitable.”
*Referring to gu poison. It’s a venom-based poison that involves sealing several venomous creatures inside a closed container where they devour each other and allegedly concentrate their toxins in a single survivor.
Yan Zheng obediently swallowed it. Instead of vomiting, his eyes began to brighten.
“Are you willing to teach me?” Yan Zheng grabbed Yu Zikuan’s dirty sleeve. “Are you really willing to join forces with me and destroy the Ling Sect?”
“The Ling Sect is a tumor in the martial world. Just killing Lu Fengxi would not do justice to my wife and son.”
“But I don’t trust you either,” Yan Zheng murmured. “Before the Ling Sect is destroyed, you cannot kill Lu Fengxi, okay? If you kill Lu Fengxi in advance and leave, I won’t take the antidote for the blood gu.”
“Deal.”
‘As expected, even the heavens despise the Ling Sect,’ Yan Zheng thought.
In a joint effort with Yu Zikuan, they manipulated Chai Xin’s shortsightedness, silently allowing Yan Zheng to kill potential “rivals”. Years passed, and the Ling Sect didn’t prosper as they had hoped. Instead, the brief resurgence of the last two years seemed to be its last gasp before it once again embarked on an irreversible decline.
Collaborating with those from a demonic sect was a huge taboo in Taiheng. So, Yu Zikuan faked his death and secluded himself in Zongwu Mountain while Yan Zheng personally delivered his daily necessities. He hid so well that even the Yueshui Pavilion failed to detect Yu Zikuan’s whereabouts.
At first, Yu Zikuan taught Yan Zheng the art of power and physiognomy without uttering a word beyond that.
Perhaps bored by the mountain life, Yu Zikuan started teaching him Taiheng’s breathing methods and the weaknesses in the Ling Sect’s martial arts.
Later on, perhaps out of disapproval, Yu Zikuan taught him how to tie up his hair, how to deal with the bloodshed in the demonic sect, and how to barely keep going under the weight of fate.
“If you really can’t bear it, come and talk to me. It’s not a disgrace to lean on your elders once in a while.”
“Don’t exhaust yourself with pointless thoughts. We have a good goal—to uproot the Ling Sect, which can be considered atonement.”
“…Kid, if you insist on pursuing the deaths of those who have died over the years, I should bear half the responsibility. We share the guilt, okay?”
In the end, Yu Zikuan said that.
The Grand Pavilion made Yan Zheng feel like he was walking on thin ice, but the small grass hut brought him a bit of relief. Amidst the desolate mountains and the raging fog, Yan Zheng seemed to find a trace of his peaceful childhood. The act of “living” no longer seemed to be pure pain and torment.
The abyss behind him was now fenced in, and he no longer needed to walk alone in the darkness.
Compared to their initial encounter, Yu Zikuan’s madness had faded significantly, and his overwhelming hatred had turned into a calm persistence. Thus, Yan Zheng sent Lu Fengxi to the Ghost Tomb, hoping that seeing his sworn enemy punished would make Yu Zikuan take the issue of the Ling Sect’s destruction a little lighter.
Yu Zikuan, no longer as crazy as before, should have been able to see that the Ling Sect was on its last breath and that leaving at the right time would be the best choice.
But unfortunately, those from Taiheng were stubborn to the bone. Yu Zikuan not only didn’t leave but also gave him the antidote to the blood gu without a word of complaint.
“We’re even now.” Warrior Yu clicked his tongue, shaking his head.
But the ending could still be considered perfect. Yan Zheng sighed softly. Just now, when he was talking with Yu Zikuan, as soon as he touched the care in the other’s words, his remaining weakness couldn’t be suppressed. Yan Zheng almost wavered—
He almost wanted to live.
Fortunately, deep pain had accompanied him for several years. It was just a touch of soft affection that could easily be dissipated. Yu Zikuan hadn’t tainted innocent blood and deserved to live. But he, caught in the dark vortex, had long lost that right.
The fog was dyed gray red by the setting sun. Finally, a loud explosion echoed in Yan Zheng’s ears. To say it was a loud explosion might not be accurate, for the sound bypassed his ears and directly pounded into his brain. A strange fear surged from his feet, and Yan Zheng couldn’t help but shiver.
Such power… it must be the Invitation to God Formation.
The next moment, as the formation activated, the surrounding air suddenly became sticky, pinning Yan Zheng firmly to his chair. Inside the formation, his whole body was filled with a stinging pain, accompanied by a void-like cold.
Winter had passed, but the feeling was like standing naked in the cold winter snow or being ground to dust between two millstones. His internal organs twitched, his heart pounded, and his limbs were completely unresponsive. The earth trembled slightly, causing Chai Xin’s head to roll down the stairs towards the panicked crowd.
Here were gathered the most brutal and arrogant lunatics of Great Yun. They used to treat human life like grass, but now they all kneeled on the ground, screaming inaudibly and moaning in the face of death.
Yan Zheng’s vision went black repeatedly, but the smile at the corner of his mouth got bigger and bigger.
…It’s really over now. He closed his eyes.
This was the moment he had longed for the most, but it was different from what Yan Zheng had imagined. In the end, he held a hint of nostalgia. With the destruction of the Ling Sect, that person could also untie his knots and move forward, right?
Who would have thought that the next moment, Yan Zheng felt a long-lost pain on his scalp—a pair of hands grabbed his long hair and forced him to stand up.
“That’s enough,” said the familiar voice hoarsely. “Kid, let’s run.”
At the foot of Zongwu Mountain.
The setting sun slanted westward, and all the chaotic sects were frozen in place.
The strange golden cage of the Kushan Sect was still standing, but the “birds in the cage” had become four. Apart from Shen Zhu, who didn’t want to get close to the bloodshed, four people from the Kushan Sect stood at the center of the formation. The big shots of the Ling Sect had left early, while the Chigou Sect didn’t leave many people behind. Taiheng had no intention to fight, so the scene was more like a meeting of minions.
When a variable occurred on the mountain, even fewer people were willing to approach the Kushan Sect.
The Fog Tomb Array of the Ling Sect hadn’t been removed yet, which made the strange phenomenon even more pronounced—it was as if an invisible giant creature was reaching out from the mountain; its movements like a nimble long tongue, sweeping across the vast Zongwu Mountain. Wherever people could see, all the fog was stirred into chaos. Layer upon layer of thick fog, like river tides in a storm, was forced to rise into grotesque waves.
Some people from the Ling Sect were still retreating up the mountain. Despite the short distance, everyone watched as they knelt on the ground, struggling painfully and weakly, like desperate insects trapped in a spider’s web.
Although at different speeds, the followers of the Ling Sect were all gradually withering, as if something was sucking the life out of them. Several servants had even fallen to the ground, their bodies deflated like dry corpses. Not long after, their bodies, like ice cubes in a stove, slowly shrunk and twisted, flattening and shrinking, turning into a perforated human skin rug…
Eventually disappearing into nothingness.
Kinky Thoughts:
Me just sobbing uncontrollably in each arc. I’m glad Yan Zhang didn’t die… Did Nian Zhong finally grow a heart with these side characters?
“Dr. Yao!” Medical staff from other areas rushed in, all waiting for her instructions.
But she just waved her hand. “Seal the academy’s exits and split up to search.”
After dismissing everyone, Yao Tai took big strides towards Ping Zong.
Among everyone present, Ping Zong was the most anxious. Upon hearing the news of Lan Sheng’s disappearance, he stood there helplessly. Seeing Yao Tai approaching him, he was unsure why.
“Close your eyes,” Yao Tai said without hesitation as she pressed both of Ping Zong’s shoulders. “Focus your energy.”
Ping Zong closed his eyes as instructed, but his concern for Lan Sheng occupied most of his thoughts, and he couldn’t concentrate.
Yao Tai’s slow speech was in stark contrast to the current urgent situation; her voice was so calm that it seemed hypnotic.
“Feel his location.”
Ping Zong tried to think in the direction she pointed, but he was still kept out by Lan Sheng’s mental barrier. The resistance was stronger than he expected. The conflict was evident on his face, making Ling Xiao wish he could take his place.
In contrast, Ying Feng was much calmer. From Yao Tai’s words, he learned for the first time the extent of a Qizhu’s mental strength. No wonder they say that the Qizi have no freedom.
His gaze shifted from the troubled Ping Zong to the anxious Ling Xiao, who clenched his fists, looking as if he were the one exerting the effort.
Yao Tai continued her guidance. “Slowly, concentrate, and sense his position.”
Ping Zong shook his head in pain and opened his eyes. “I can’t do it.”
“You can.” Yao Tai still maintained her previous pace. “You’re his Qizhu. It’s your right. You must be resolute and not be swayed by his emotions.”
Ping Zong closed his eyes again, frowning and shaking his head. Time ticked away without any progress.
Just as Ling Xiao was getting anxious for him, Yao Tai’s soft voice suddenly turned sharp, startling everyone.
“Hurry! If we don’t find him, he’ll die!”
Ping Zong’s eyes shot open. “The rooftop! He’s on the rooftop!”
Everyone thought Lan Sheng had run away. They never expected him to be on the rooftop. Upon hearing the location, Ling Xiao was the first to dash out, followed closely by Ying Feng, whose speed matched his. Ping Zong, who most wanted to see Lan Sheng, was left behind because his body hadn’t fully recovered.
Ling Xiao was the first to reach the rooftop. But the sight before him made his heart race. Lan Sheng was standing on the edge. One more step, and he would plummet.
The wind billowed around him, his body swaying. Everyone stopped in their tracks, fearing that any noise might make him fall.
Ping Zong, the last to arrive, tried to push past Ling Xiao and Ying Feng to see, but they stood closer together, as if trying to delay the inevitable.
The noise caught Lan Sheng’s attention. He turned to look. The look in his eyes was seared into Ling Xiao’s memory—a look he’d never forget.
It was not the Lan Sheng he knew. Along with the darkness in his eyes, all signs of life seemed to have disappeared.
At that moment, Ling Xiao realized, without a doubt, that Lan Sheng truly wanted to die. Every word Yao Tai said by Ping Zong’s bedside was no exaggeration.
Ling Xiao, shocked, was pushed aside by Ping Zong, and the same scene unfolded before him.
Ling Xiao, seemingly coming back to his senses, urgently called out, “Ping Zong!”
But he couldn’t continue, at a loss for words.
Yao Tai, having been through such situations more than once, remained calm. She discreetly sent a distress signal via her personal terminal, hoping for timely assistance.
Then, Ping Zong spoke.
“Lan Sheng.” His voice was trembling. “I didn’t mean to retaliate. I truly wasn’t in control then. I don’t know what happened. Do you believe me?”
“What he said is true,” Ling Xiao quickly added, “The truth isn’t what the doctor said. We were all deceived. Ping Zong is also a victim. Apparently, during the coming-of-age ceremony, everyone is forced to act. You can distrust everyone, but how can you not trust Ping Zong? He sincerely wanted to give his heart’s blood for you. Do you think this outcome is what he hoped for?”
The words of these two people couldn’t shake Lan Sheng at all. An inorganic voice came from the wind and reached the ears of everyone present.
“The outcome is already determined. Does it matter whether it’s unintentional or intentional?”
This was definitely not the Lan Sheng that Ling Xiao was familiar with. The Lan Sheng he knew would never say such words to Ping Zong. Although he often had sharp words and was always pessimistic, he would never speak so coldly to his beloved.
It was only at this moment that Ling Xiao finally understood the mental disorder caused by the hormonal imbalance that Yao Tai mentioned—it was enough to turn one person into another, blinding their mind, controlling their actions, and even destroying their emotions.
“You come down first, and we can talk slowly, okay?” Ping Zong was still trying. “Dr. Yao said that you are currently experiencing a temporary hormonal imbalance. As long as we stay together for 72 hours, your mentality will return to normal. Please don’t do anything rash now.”
“It’s no use talking to him now,” Yao Tai whispered quickly behind him. “His current mental state can’t communicate with normal thinking. He won’t listen to anything you say.”
Ping Zong hesitated, obviously torn.
“Use the method I taught you. It’s the only way now. If you want him to live, you must control his mind. There’s no other way!”
“Lan Sheng!” Ping Zong called out unwillingly.
Yao Tai had lost hope in his indecision, and Ling Xiao’s anxiety was no less than that of Ping Zong. She exchanged glances with Ying Feng, and they both understood. The two tried to minimize their movements as they approached Lan Sheng from two different directions, trying to get close to him on the wall.
Now, Yao Tai only hoped that Ping Zong and Ling Xiao could buy them some time.
“Lan Sheng, do you remember what Dr. Yao and the professor said? As long as two souls are equal, their statuses are equal. I don’t know why things turned out this way, but I can promise you, whatever you promised me, I can do the same. Since we won’t abuse our rights, why are you so concerned about our status?”
“Lan Sheng, I promise you, I will cherish and respect you, using the power and rights I have to protect you. I will never oppress you with the position of the Qizhu. Our relationship remains the same; nothing will change. I’m asking you, not as a Qizhu but as a lover, can you please come down?”
—I willingly offer my heart’s blood, and in this life, I am his Qizi.
—I will also use the power and rights I have to protect him, and never oppress him with the position of the Qizhu.
Every word Ping Zong said was something Lan Sheng had said to him before, which had once confirmed his decision to spend his life with this man, even at the cost of his own life. But the same words couldn’t move the person in front of him at all, regardless of how Ping Zong tried to appeal to his emotions.
“Dr. Yao and the professor said that as long as two souls are equal, their statuses are equal.” Lan Sheng slowly turned around, and every little movement of his made everyone hold their breath. “But they also said that the professor willingly offered his heart’s blood during the coming-of-age ceremony and never regretted it.”
Yao Tai tensed up upon hearing this.
“Which statement should I believe?” Lan Sheng asked. “Dr. Yao deceived me, the professor deceived me, and even you deceived me.”
“I…” Ping Zong wanted to explain but found himself at a loss for words.
“For all these years, I prided myself on being able to protect you, even feeling proud of it. Thank you for satisfying my vanity for so long. My doubt only existed for a moment, when you blocked Ling Xiao’s punch. If it were me, I definitely couldn’t have done it without a scratch. Ling Xiao probably realized this long ago.”
“Even someone as obtuse as him realized that you’ve been indulging me all this time. Looking back, among the three of us, I am the most foolish one. I thought I was great when I was actually worthless.”
“You’re not!” Ping Zong retorted passionately. “I’ve never thought of you that way!”
“Every adult has been lying to us, my best friend hid things from me, and I can’t even trust the one I love.”
“Stop being foolish, alright?” Ling Xiao blurted out angrily. “He wasn’t trying to use you. Speaking of secrets, you two hid your relationship from me for three years. Did I ever say anything? Who said in the beginning that the bond between the Qizhu and Qizi would be based on each one’s own abilities? Even without all those lies, during the coming-of-age ceremony, you would still lose, still become the Qizi. How is that any different from today’s outcome?”
“You’re right,” Lan Sheng admitted nonchalantly. “I lost to you at the coming-of-age ceremony because I was less skilled. I shouldn’t blame you.”
“But I also can’t accept this version of me. I can’t accept living as a loser.”
“You’re not a loser!” Ping Zong roared, unable to hold back. “When I chose to become your Qizi, did you treat me as a loser?”
“I did say that to you, and I meant it. I still love you to this day. I just can’t accept myself. Thank you for putting up with me all these years. I’m sorry for holding you back in this life. In the next… No, there might not even be a chance to make up for it in the next life.”
“Lan Sheng!”
Lan Sheng’s voice was calm and composed. “Goodbye, Ping Zong.”
With one last glance at Ping Zong and Ling Xiao by his side, he leaned back, tracing an arc with his hand in the air.
Ling Xiao dashed to the edge without hesitation. Yao Tai and Ying Feng, who were closer, lunged from both sides. Yao Tai missed, but Ying Feng managed to grab a corner of Lan Sheng’s sleeve. However, the grip was slipping due to the weight. Without a second thought, Ling Xiao reached out to grasp Ying Feng’s hand and helped pull up, extending his other hand to grab Lan Sheng’s.
Turning to Ping Zong, who stood frozen, he yelled, “What are you waiting for? Help!”
Yao Tai deftly leaped over the barrier, one hand holding onto the edge and the other reaching for Lan Sheng, hanging in mid-air, attempting to pull him up.
“Watch out!” Ling Xiao, with sharp eyes, noticed Lan Sheng drawing a dagger from his waist and feigning a stab at Yao Tai, who swayed to dodge and almost lost her grip. Ling Xiao released Ying Feng and caught her just in time.
At that moment, Lan Sheng’s dagger suddenly changed direction, cutting off the corner of his sleeve. Ying Feng felt the weight disappear from his grasp, and they all watched helplessly as Lan Sheng plummeted.
“Lan Sheng!” Ling Xiao’s heart-wrenching scream echoed. Simultaneously, a brilliant flash of white light appeared, and to Ling Xiao’s astonishment, Pingzong appeared beside the falling Lan Sheng, gently embracing him. Their descent slowed until they safely landed on the ground.
Yao Tai used her right hand to propel herself back onto the rooftop. Ling Xiao turned around, but Ping Zong was nowhere to be found.
“What just happened?” Ling Xiao felt a sense of foreboding. Looking at Yao Tai, she turned away, closing her eyes in agony, as if she couldn’t bear to see.
With trembling lips, Ling Xiao managed to utter. “Dr. Yao…”
“In the end, he mastered a unique ability of the Qizhu,” Yao Tai murmured, “A power that can only be used once in a lifetime, the ultimate and most potent ability.”
“You mean…?”
“To exchange one’s life for another. That is the highest power of the Qizhu.”
On the distant ground, clarity returned to Lan Sheng’s eyes, but with it came confusion.
“Ping Zong, your body…”
Ping Zong’s body was starting to become transparent. “Lan Sheng, remember when you said that one life is just one life and that you wouldn’t hope for an uncertain next life? If I leave you in this life, you will continue living, cherishing the memories of me.”
He gently caressed Lan Sheng’s face, but all Lan Sheng felt was a wisp of smoke. “The things your crow’s mouth spews, they always come true.”
Around him, countless radiant spots emerged, intensifying in brightness and quantity, eventually forming a bright blue sphere, emitting blinding light.
Lan Sheng reached out but grasped nothing.
On this morning, the early risers of Bikong witnessed a bright blue orb rise from the direction of the medical building, piercing through the clouds towards the soul lighthouse, disappearing forever.
The author has something to say:
Tips: The Tianxiu people have a unique eye structure. They can see things in strong light and in the dark and are not far or nearsighted, so the glasses they wear are purely functional, like for storing data.
In 15 minutes, Zhou Qian completed the transformation into a god and turned into a creature resembling a fish, briefly losing his sanity and experiencing the pain that Epoh had once endured…
Now, everything had passed. His sanity had returned, and all the physical pain had disappeared. Zhou Qian was about to face his final test—to survive in the midst of Epoh’s attack.
However, Zhou Qian’s consciousness still seems to be scattered.
He was trapped in a distant nightmare that he still couldn’t let go of.
So much so that when he was pinched by a powerful god by his chin, he could only stare closely into the god’s eyes and accusingly proclaimed—
“Bai Zhou, you’re a coward!”
“I’ll hate you. I’ll hate you forever!”
What finally woke Zhou Qian up was a series of system notifications.
[Warning! Player Zhou Qian is about to be attacked by God Epoh!]
[System assessment: Player Zhou Qian cannot resist!]
[Player Zhou Qian, the system has prepared a basic grave for you. Rest in peace. If you pay 300 gold coins, you can upgrade to a premium grave. Your balance is insufficient. The system provides you with a funeral donation feature—]
Quickly realizing his situation, Zhou Qian looked into the eyes of Epoh through his sweat-soaked hair, who was close by.
Those eyes were clear and beautiful, reminding him of scales that sparkled like blue stars.
But at the same time, they were cold and showed an uncompromising killing intent.
In those beautiful eyes, Zhou Qian saw his reflection and his dire situation.
The powerful god’s killing intent had reached its peak.
In this crucial moment, Zhou Qian reached into his bag and pulled out a black pill.
With a slight smile at Epoh, Zhou Qian whispered into his ear, “Dalang, it’s medicine time.”
Epoh: “………”
A moment later, God Epoh obediently took the black pill from Zhou Qian and ate it.
After which, he remained frozen in place.
With a loud bang, the one-hour limit finally arrived. The gates to Apple Paradise finally opened.
Catching his breath, Zhou Qian stood up and looked at the opened gate, telling his three stunned teammates, “This pill can hold him for three minutes. Let’s go now!”
Inside the paradise, a gigantic apple tree was laden with tempting red apples. Below the tree were white petals scattered like snow.
The palace was windy, making the trees sway and the petals dance. But the blue lake in front of the gigantic tree remained without ripples, as if made of crystal.
The lake was calm, just like Epoh’s eyes.
The stunning God Epoh, entangled in branches and under the influence of the medicine, hovered mid-air. His mirror-like eyes watched the players leave.
He watched them step over the snow-like petals, cross the crystal bridge, run into the green apple forest, and eventually sprint towards the newly opened gate without ever looking back…
The four players ran desperately towards the palace gate.
Zhou Qian was the first to run out of stamina and, in the end, was practically carried by Qi Liuxing and Gao Shan.
When they were 30 meters away from the gate, the three-minute limit ended. Zhou Qian felt a gust of wind from behind—either God Epoh was trying to teleport him, or he had appeared behind him.
Zhou Qian didn’t dare to look back.
“Three, two, one, jump!”
He commanded loudly, and his teammates leaped with him, all of them tumbling out of the palace!
[Players successfully cleared “Apple Paradise” and received a treasure chest. Upon opening, they can obtain random items.]
[Players achieved a hidden achievement and will receive a special reward. Please wait for the end-game animation.]
[Player Zhou Qian successfully “Transformed into a God”, achieving the ultimate hidden achievement.]
……
With the continuous notifications, a treasure chest appeared in front of each of the four players. They stored the chests for now, not opening them immediately, since the end-game animation was still playing.
Turning around, they looked together at the palace gates and saw the entire paradise undergoing a massive transformation—the doors, stone pillars, and countless apple trees were all twisting and leaning towards the ground. Eventually, they all fell into the mud, becoming part of the branches, and slithered like snakes toward the center of the paradise…
The previously serene azure lake suddenly whipped up into a tumultuous storm, and its blue waters turned a deep crimson. A blood-colored deluge surged to the skies before pouring back into the roots of the giant tree.
The tree seemed to breathe, and in a moment, it had devoured all the lake water.
Perhaps the lake was truly the blood flowing within the tree’s veins.
It seemed everything in this paradise was a part of the giant tree, or perhaps a part of Epoh.
Now, as the illusion faded, everything returned to its original form.
The giant tree grew even larger, its countless branches twitching. From afar, it resembled a creature with innumerable tentacles. And at the center of this creature was the god Epoh.
His long hair, intertwined with the green leaves, enveloped his radiant, elongated body. He hovered in mid-air, looking down upon the world with the posture of a god.
Kneeling before him were the two goddesses in white dresses.
They no longer laughed with naive romance; fear filled their faces, and their bodies trembled.
At this moment, since the players had completed the game, they could observe everything up close.
Thus, they walked toward the central part of the original paradise.
Observing the scene of the goddesses kneeling, Yun Xiangrong remarked, “The goddesses lied. They’re not gods transformed from eating apples. Otherwise, like the followers, they would’ve been killed long ago. They were just deceiving and tempting the believers! Remember—”
Gao Shan picked up from there. “I recall now! Adam and Eve were warned by God not to eat the forbidden fruit. Yet, seduced by the devilish snake, they ate it and were expelled from the Garden of Eden. And that devilish snake was… was…”
“…The incarnation of Satan,” Zhou Qian added, just as the two goddesses collapsed, writhing in pain.
After a soft sigh from Epoh, they turned into ashes.
God created angels, but they aspired to overthrow him, falling and becoming the devil Satan.
In this game’s narrative, Epoh created the goddesses, but they harbored evil intentions.
They tempted humans to eat apples and become gods. What was their next move? Would they unite the god-turned followers against Epoh?
Comparing these symbolic images with legendary stories, Zhou Qian noticed that Epoh in the sky was looking in their direction.
Raising his hand, Epoh waved lightly, and in front of each player floated something resembling a matchbox.
Upon opening it, Zhou Qian found it was indeed a matchbox containing several matches.
Looking up, Zhou Qian asked Epoh, “Is this our reward for completing the hidden mission?”
Epoh, enveloped in branches and leaves, appeared mysterious in the shadows of his silhouette. He gazed at Zhou Qian, merely saying, “God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light. Now, God grants you the ‘Seed of Fire’.”
[Players received the item: Seed of Fire]
[Function: ?]
[Grade: ?]
The system panels of the four players simultaneously displayed this notification.
Uncertain about the purpose of the [Seed of Fire], the players were taken aback, all wondering what special reward Zhou Qian, who achieved the ultimate hidden achievement, would receive.
Everyone’s eyes turned to Epoh who was floating in the air.
Epoh slightly tilted his head, looking down at Zhou Qian.
He raised his right hand—long-fingered yet powerful.
Not long ago, he had placed this hand on Zhou Qian’s neck, intending to end his life. But now, he pointed to Zhou Qian’s chest.
Transformed, Zhou Qian felt as though his chest was being torn open. Flesh separated, blood pouring. Yet he felt no pain—
Epoh reached into Zhou Qian’s chest, extracting a rib.
Both the tree and Epoh vanished from their spot, instantly appearing before Zhou Qian.
Bending down, Epoh handed the bloody rib to Zhou Qian, saying, “Take it.”
These words echoed, sounding as if they were from the far horizon.
God created the first human, Adam. To prevent him from feeling lonely, God took one of Adam’s ribs and transformed it into his wife, Eve.
Now, Epoh also took one of Zhou Qian’s ribs and crafted it into a weapon for Zhou Qian.
The eyelid lifted, and Zhou Qian instantly saw a palm covered in fresh red blood as well as a rib enveloped in thick blood.
“This is quite a unique gift.” Zhou Qian smiled, then added, “Wait a moment for me.”
Epoh remained silent.
Everyone else: ???
Zhou Qian then took out a tissue from his bag, wrapped it around his palm, and reluctantly took the rib.
Everyone: “…”
Isn’t your cleanliness a bit over the top?!
After accepting such a gruesome reward, Zhou Qian wiped the blood with the tissue, then asked Epoh, “Now that I’ve ascended, this rib after ascension… it’s not going to turn into a girl like Eve, right? I don’t want a wife; I want a weapon. Can it be used as a weapon?”
The system panel answered in place of Epoh.
[Player Zhou Qian Rank: F→D]
[HP: 300→2000]
[MP: 300→2000]
[Initial Skill Points: 100]
[Suggested Skills: Agility, Control]
[Acquired Weapon: Rib of God]
[Weapon Function: For Rank D players, only one function can be unlocked—slowing down time; Range: 10m2; other functions to be unlocked.]
……
In the wilderness, dusk had set.
After cleaning the rib, Zhou Qian looked up at Epoh, who seemed about to leave.
“Are you just data, or are you a real person?” Zhou Qian asked again.
Epoh turned his head, his emotionless eyes meeting Zhou Qian’s gaze, seemingly still not understanding what he meant.
Zhou Qian raised his right hand, where Epoh’s strand of hair was wrapped around his index finger.
“Will I see you again? Epoh.”
Epoh still didn’t answer.
So Zhou Qian asked, “So, at the end of this story… What’s your fate? To leave forever?”
“Yes, I will leave forever.”
A god once passed through a land and found humans living there, who were backward, poor, and without any special abilities.
The god was willing to grant favors, fulfilling humans’ wishes, as long as they believed in him and became his followers.
People thought the god must have ulterior motives behind his kindness. But they were wrong; the god had no such intentions. Human power was too insignificant to be of any use to him.
God bestowed pure kindness upon humans, earning their devout worship. But because it came too easily, the followers took God’s blessings for granted. So, when one day God’s powers waned and he could no longer fulfill their desires, they began to resent him.
To vent their anger, God allowed them to hurt him. But God’s blessings also came to an end.
When the followers overstepped, wanting to become gods, coveting his power, and even standing beside him…
God felt murderous.
“So, do you resent humans? Do you resent us?” Zhou Qian asked again.
Zhou Qian’s main purpose wasn’t just to explore the game’s depths or storyline, but to understand the true intent behind the game’s design.
If the level design of a game could reflect the character of the designer behind the game, could the plot of the instances in the game also reflect the selfishness of the designer?
To be able to construct such a vast game world, this kind of power surely exceeded human comprehension.
Then, like Epoh in this story, could the game designer also be a god?
If he really was a god, what was his purpose in designing this game?
Would he, like Epoh, resent humans?
And as the name “Epoh” suggests, would he rob humans of their hope?
If the game designer was indeed a god, what was his purpose in creating the game?
From midair, Epoh calmly said, “Humans are not worthy of God’s hatred. He is just disappointed. Disappointed in humans and this land. That’s why he chose to leave. God abandoned humans and this land.”
Sometimes, the opposite of hope wasn’t despair, but disappointment.
Zhou Qian looked up, his eyes reflecting the countless stars in the sky. Staring at Epoh, he said, “I have another question for you.
“You said earlier… God selflessly bestowed kindness upon humans. I disagree. You fulfilled Li Dafu’s wishes, but you harmed a young boy. What did the boy do wrong?”
Epoh replied indifferently, “God only cares about his followers.”
“Oh, so because the boy didn’t believe in you, his life didn’t matter to you? Li Dafu did evil things, but as long as he’s your follower, you don’t care?”
Zhou Qian’s eyes narrowed, emitting a very oppressive aura.
“Actually, for me, the life and death, good and evil of humans aren’t important.” Epoh looked at Zhou Qian, his face showing no pity. “Would you care about the goodness or wickedness of an ant?”
After he spoke, branches, like tentacles, writhed in the air and enveloped Epoh completely.
Suddenly, a massive tree ascended, touching the sky in a moment, looking like a meteor returning from the earth to the sky. It soon vanished into the vast night.
The magnificent palace disappeared as if it had never existed, signifying this land was now abandoned by the gods.
The surroundings fell silent, and the background began to fade. This indicated that the end animation was about to disappear, and players would soon return to reality.
While staring at the place where the palace used to be, Zhou Qian heard Yun Xiangrong ask, “Why did you ask him that question? I always felt that you didn’t seem like…”
Zhou Qian noticed that Gao Shan was also looking at him.
It seemed they all believed that he wouldn’t care about the life or death of a little boy who was an NPC.
“Perhaps it’s because—” Zhou Qian calmly said, “I almost ended up in a situation like his.”
The three were visibly shocked at his words, exchanging uneasy glances.
Zhou Qian looked up at the near-transparent night sky.
“I am satisfied with Epoh’s answer. It should be that way. In a crisis, no one will come to your rescue. Don’t even think of pleading with so-called gods. No one cares about your good or evil, or life or death, except yourself.”
……
During the player logout period, all scenes completely disappeared.
In the pitch-black environment, Zhou Qian noticed a faint glow coming from his body.
Looking down, he realized—his appearance was still that after “becoming a God”, resembling a non-human entity.
As for the source of the light, it was from the scales on his body.
The scales, shimmering like deep-sea stars, inevitably reminded him of the near-death night and a dragon that pierced the haze towards him.
In a moment, Zhou Qian noticed the webbing on his hands fading, and most of the scales’ glow gradually dimmed.
With the game logout process nearly complete, he was slowly returning to his normal human appearance outside the game.
Finally, with a “ding” sound, three scales fell to the ground.
He picked them up. The darkness vanished, and he was back in the hospital room.
[Player Zhou Qian obtained the item: Divine Scale]
[Function: Shiny scales from a creature the system has never seen. What kind of human, driven by what obsession, would grow such luminous scales? A tiny scale with a significant effect, it can transform into a dragon entirely controlled by the player with absolute obedience. It can be used for playful pranks or as a cute decoration!]
[Note 1: The dragon formed by the scale is born from a living player, so it has similar vital signs to the player. Wanting it to sneakily approach someone for a surprise? The system advises against it, as it is easily detectable! It has no attack power or any skills.]
[Note 2: The scale is a consumable. Each dragon created by a scale can only exist for 24 hours; cherish the time spent with the dragon.]
……
Spring Hill Asylum, Ward 1, Room 302.
Upon leaving the game, Zhou Qian found himself lying on a hospital bed. He checked the time on his phone; it was only 8:10 pm.
When he left, it was 8 pm. He had spent several hours in the game, but in reality, only 10 minutes had passed.
All the physical pain from the game disappeared after logging out.
However, the mental exhaustion was substantial.
Feeling extremely tired, Zhou Qian took a shower and went back to bed. But he couldn’t sleep.
Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw that colorful dream, those unforgettable scales, and the dragon. If not, it was the young boy’s departure on the sycamore tree-lined path. The boy waved, saying “goodbye” as if he were just a regular schoolboy, but he never returned…
Getting up, Zhou Qian took out the sleeping pill prescribed by Li Xuehai from his bedside table, took one, and finally fell asleep.
He slept until noon the next day.
After freshening up, he went to the dining hall of Ward 1.
After disdainfully glancing at the lunch, he didn’t take anything and left.
Back in his room, he opened the game panel and saw that he had received 600 gold coins as a reward for clearing “Apple Paradise”.
According to the system, one gold coin could be exchanged for ten thousand yuan. Zhou Qian tried to exchange for thirty thousand yuan. After succeeding, he quickly picked up his phone to call a luxury hotel he had often visited in the past. The call was answered by a manager familiar to Zhou Qian. Recognizing it was Zhou Qian, the manager hesitated. “But you’ve gone bankrupt, so…”
Zhou Qian immediately transferred the money. “Check your WeChat.”
“Oh! I’ll send it to you right away!”
“As for the dishes, you can decide for me. Do you remember my preferences?” Zhou Qian asked.
“Of course!” replied the manager professionally. “You don’t eat onions, ginger, garlic, coriander, celery, fennel, star anise, or fish with bones or shrimp with shells. Right?”
“Correct.”
An hour later, Zhou Qian was having a lavish lunch in his hospital room. When Dr. Li Xuehai came for a checkup, he caught Zhou Qian sipping coffee.
Entering the room, Li Xuehai noticed the mess of plates and cups everywhere. With a twitch in the corner of his eye, he tried to maintain a serious demeanor. “You should cut down on coffee. It’s a stimulant—”
Zhou Qian, looking at him curiously, asked, “Dr. Li, what happens if I take coffee and sleeping pills together?”
Li Xuehai: “…”
Keeping a straight face, Li Xuehai approached Zhou Qian, took out his notebook, and began asking routine questions such as how he slept, if he felt uncomfortable anywhere, or if he felt irritable. Zhou Qian obediently answered all the questions. When Li Xuehai was done writing, Zhou Qian narrowed his eyes and asked, “By the way… Why did you only come for a checkup this afternoon?”
Li Xuehai frowned. “Something came up. The hospital leadership called an urgent meeting. I didn’t prioritize you since your case is mild.”
“What happened?” Zhou Qian pressed.
Setting his notebook down at the foot of the bed, Li Xuehai walked to the window, deeply troubled. “Two patients from Zone B died yesterday. One jumped off the building, and the other died suddenly.”
Behind him, Zhou Qian became serious. “What were their names?”
“Wang Lu and Dong Xiang,” Li Xuehai answered, sensing something off about Zhou Qian’s inquiry. “You usually aren’t interested in other people’s affairs. Why the sudden curiosity?”
Zhou Qian replied, “It seems you don’t know me well. I’m quite interested.”
Li Xuehai: “…”
Zhou Qian continued, “Have there been many deaths in the hospital recently?”
“Besides the sudden two last night… everything else seems normal. Zone 1 is fine, but patients in Zone 2 and Zone X are very severe. Some desperately try to commit suicide. Despite strict control, there are always oversights.” Li Xuehai frowned. “Why are you asking this?”
“No reason.” Zhou Qian yawned and continued sipping his coffee. He and Dong Xiang were both from Spring Hill Asylum and both appeared in the game. It wasn’t a coincidence. He mentioned in the game that they were all mental patients, and no one refuted him, indicating he was right. It seemed the game was selecting players from mental hospitals. From what he could tell, the mysterious deaths at Spring Hill Asylum weren’t widespread, indicating the game had only recently affected the hospital and involved few patients.
While lost in thought, Zhou Qian kept the conversation going with Li Xuehai.
When Zhou Qian teased him by saying, “Huh, why are you wearing the same pants as yesterday? Can’t afford multiple pairs of that brand?” He finally managed to annoy the doctor into leaving. Zhou Qian then turned his attention to the notebook left at the foot of his bed—Li Xuehai had left behind his records.
Driven by curiosity, Zhou Qian picked up the notebook. A sharp intuition pierced his mind, causing a throbbing pain in his temple.
Pressing one hand against his aching forehead, Zhou Qian hesitated for a moment before flipping open the notebook.
The notebook was categorized by ward, including the dangerous Zone X.
Is Li Xuehai also responsible for the patients in Zone X?
Zhou Qian frowned and turned to the records related to Zone X. The first page of this section was a list of patients and their room assignments.
As he read further, Zhou Qian’s expression turned from curiosity to seriousness, shock, and disbelief. His pupils nearly contracted to pinpoints, and his entire body tensed up.
He saw the record on a certain line in the list.
[03X87, Bai Zhou.]
……
The dimly lit sycamore tree path appeared again in front of Zhou Qian.
Time flowed like water, moving forward in ripples under the gentle breeze, and the path seemed to sway, leading back to a much earlier afternoon.
Zhou Qian became an observer, watching his younger self doing homework with a similarly young Bai Zhou. Or more precisely, Bai Zhou was the one doing the homework, and he planned to copy.
At that time, they had just started their first year of junior high.
Outside the window, the wind rustled the sycamore tree leaves, making them fall. The sound of the falling leaves was similar to the sound of Bai Zhou’s writing.
Fwish, fwish, fwish…
After an unknown period, Bai Zhou closed his workbook. Zhou Qian made a move to snatch it, but Bai Zhou evaded him.
Zhou Qian nudged Bai Zhou with his elbow. “Give it to me.”
“Do it yourself,” Bai Zhou replied with certainty.
“I can’t.”
“I can teach you.”
Out of boredom, Zhou Qian opened a page in his workbook. “I don’t know how to do this problem.”
Bai Zhou took out a piece of scratch paper, writing down the calculation while explaining it earnestly to Zhou Qian. Bai Zhou was looking down while writing, so Zhou Qian, sitting straight, could see his drooping eyelashes.
After a while, Bai Zhou asked him, “Did you understand?”
Distracted, Zhou Qian reached out to pinch Bai Zhou’s eyelashes. “No, I don’t understand.”
Bai Zhou dodged Zhou Qian’s hand and patiently said, “Then let me explain it again.”
Ignoring him, Zhou Qian, failing to pinch Bai Zhou’s lashes, decided to pull his hair.
Bai Zhou had to grab his wrist, looking him in the eyes. The young Bai Zhou’s gaze was already quite intimidating. “Zhou Qian, sit still.”
Thus, Bai Zhou patiently explained a simple question to Zhou Qian three times.
After the third time, Bai Zhou asked, “Do you understand now?”
Zhou Qian shook his head, looking at Bai Zhou with a mischievous glint in his eye.
What will he do next?
Bai Zhou gave him a casual glance and handed over his scratch paper. “Alright then. Copy my calculations 10 times. If after 10 times you still don’t get it, copy it 100 times. Repetition can lead to understanding. Start copying now, no matter how late it gets, I’ll be with you.”
Zhou Qian sighed. “Why do you insist on helping me?”
Is it just because we’ve been classmates since the first grade?
But Bai Zhou said, “Because in the one-on-one tutoring program, we were put in the same group. I promised the teacher that I would be responsible for you.”
Zhou Qian: “…”
Is it just because of the teacher’s request?
Due to a hidden past, Zhou Qian was actually sick at that time. When not having episodes, he was sweet and had high emotional intelligence, getting along with everyone. But when an episode hit, he would lose control.
Zhou Qian had been on medication for some time and hadn’t had an episode in a while.
But that day, for reasons even he couldn’t fathom, he became uncontrollably angry when Bai Zhou spoke. He grabbed Bai Zhou’s neatly written homework and tore it to shreds.
The torn pieces fluttered like snowflakes, falling as the two sat side by side, looking at each other.
Then Zhou Qian said with malice and mockery, “Don’t think you’re better just because you’re the class president and rank first. No matter how well you do in school, what’s the use? You might work your whole life and still not be able to afford my family’s villa in the city center. No, you might not even afford a bathroom in my house.”
After venting his anger, Zhou Qian thought—Given Bai Zhou’s modest background, my words must have really hurt, right? He’ll be angry, give up on me, right?
Much later, Zhou Qian realized why he had said those words that day.
In an almost pathological way, he was testing Bai Zhou’s limits.
How could someone be so good? Beneath that gentle exterior, could there be another side to him that no one knows?
How bad do I have to be for you to leave me, to give up on me?
It wasn’t intentional.
He simply couldn’t believe that Bai Zhou would care for him when even his own parents didn’t. The naive him firmly believed that Bai Zhou should have distanced himself earlier because they were simply not from the same world.
Even though Bai Zhou’s family background was rather ordinary, in Zhou Qian’s eyes, he had everything he should have—the most ordinary, yet warm and loving family life, filled with lively chatter and warmth.
But Zhou Qian was different. On the surface, the Zhou family appeared glamorous, but it had been rotting from the inside for a long time.
Facing Zhou Qian’s actions, Bai Zhou seemed entirely unmoved.
He just got up, went to the balcony, fetched a broom, and meticulously cleaned up the torn bits of paper. Then he returned to his seat, picked up his pen, and started to do his work. “I’m starting my homework from the beginning; you might as well join me.”
Some time later.
Zhou Qian apologized to Bai Zhou.
The sycamore leaves were still withered yellow, and the autumn breeze and sunlight were as gentle as ever.
The same classroom, the same spot by the window.
Zhou Qian stared unblinkingly at Bai Zhou before him.
A breeze lifted his hair, revealing Bai Zhou’s beautiful eyebrows and eyes. The corner of his eye had a little red—a mark made intentionally or unintentionally with a red pen during their playful scuffle.
“Zhou Ge,” Zhou Qian softly began, his tone noticeably rising.
“Hmm?” Bai Zhou looked up at him. “What is it?”
Zhou Qian asked, “Why are you always so gentle? Is it just towards me or everyone?”
Bai Zhou simply patted his head. “Do your homework.”
Zhou Qian blinked a few times and then suddenly said, “I didn’t mean what I said last time.”
Bai Zhou asked, “Which time?”
“When I said you couldn’t afford a villa like mine,” Zhou Qian blinked again and earnestly said, “I don’t know why, but that day I just wanted to make you angry. Don’t take my words to heart. If you want, you could earn a lot in the future. You could buy a thousand, no, ten thousand of my villas.”
Bai Zhou chuckled. “Why would I keep buying your villas?”
Zhou Qian didn’t answer but instead sought reassurance. “I’m actually quite good-natured most of the time, right? I’m not always like this… My mom often calls me a little lunatic. Do you think I’m mad?”
“No,” Bai Zhou answered seriously.
“Bai Zhou, have you never gotten angry? Even when I’m not around, are you the same?”
“Do you always find the world so wonderful?”
“Have you ever felt resentment or discontent?”
“Do you ever feel life has been unfair to you?”
“Why is there someone as perfect as you in this world?”
“Do people like you really exist?”
……
Zhou Qian asked Bai Zhou many questions.
He remembered all of Bai Zhou’s answers.
Perhaps because Bai Zhou was too perfect, heaven took him away too soon.
Those who were strong were easy to break, and those who were too wise would die prematurely. Probably, the same principle applied.
Shaking off the memories, Zhou Qian looked at the name on the list before him.
What’s going on? Is it a namesake?
……
Three days later.
A new patient, Qi Liuxing, joined Zhou Qian in his hospital room.
Originally, Qi Liuxing was staying at the Second People’s Hospital in the neighboring city, another psychiatric facility.
After leaving the game this time, a new patient was admitted to his room, which made it inconvenient for him to log into the system and enter or exit the game.
After contacting Zhou Qian and learning that he was alone in his room, Qi Liuxing decided to transfer.
Now they both resided in Ward 302 at Spring Hill Asylum. After moving in, Qi Liuxing wanted to discuss with Zhou Qian their next adventure in the game. However, he was first tasked by Zhou Qian with a mission—to keep watch.
Every day from 2 to 6 pm, some patients from Zone 1 were allowed to be outdoors within a designated area. So, at 5 pm that day, during the outdoor activity time, Qi Liuxing was called by Zhou Qian to a tree at the edge of the garden.
He watched Zhou Qian climb the tree and take out a high-powered binoculars, peering in a specific direction. His task was to stand below and ensure nobody saw Zhou Qian.
Confused by Zhou Qian’s actions, Qi Liu Xing whispered, “What’s happening?”
Zhou Qian countered, “Ever heard about the structure of Spring Hill Asylum?”
“There’s Zone 1, Zone 2, and Zone X? Besides Zone 1, the other zones are practically like prisons, right?” Qi Liuxing said, glancing in the direction Zhou Qian was looking, “You’re looking at Zone X?”
Indeed, Zhou Qian was observing Zone X.
On the manual, Bai Zhou’s number was 03X87.
Using the excuse that he had a friend in Zone X and wanted to visit, Zhou Qian had inquired about it with a nurse he was familiar with.
The nurse’s answer was, “What’s your friend’s number? If it starts with 01 or 02, there’s still a chance to visit… but 03 is absolutely out of the question. Those with numbers starting with 03 are held in the West Hua Building, facing Gate 1. Gate 1 is sealed all year round and is under the tightest security. This is because the people in West Hua Building are extremely dangerous. Especially…”
“I heard there’s one with the number 03X87. He’s the most dangerous one—must have committed a very serious crime. Don’t even think about going there.”
03X87. That was exactly Bai Zhou’s number.
How did he become the most dangerous and inaccessible person?
Zhou Qian was determined to find out what was going on in Zone X.
Spring Hill Asylum was built on a mountain.
Zones 1 and 2 were on the north side, and Zone X was on the south.
A small river separated Zone X from the other wards, much like the Chu-Han boundary. Guards were posted in front of the stone bridge over the river, preventing any unauthorized access. On the riverbanks, there were metal fences, with electric wires stretched above.
Fortunately, the West Hua Building was close to the first door, directly facing the activity area of Zone 1.
This allowed Zhou Qian to observe the West Hua Building with binoculars.
At that moment, sitting on a rather thick tree trunk, Zhou Qian looked at the building on the opposite bank of the river with his high-powered binoculars. According to the patterns he had learned, patient number 03X87 was in the 7th room on the 8th floor.
He counted the rooms one by one through the binoculars and quickly located the room where Bai Zhou was.
The weather was overcast, with the setting sun mostly obscured by thick clouds. Thus, when Zhou Qian looked from afar, his view wasn’t very clear, as if everything was covered by an orange-gray filter.
Under this grayness, he saw the situation inside the single room.
There was indeed a person lying on the bed, wearing a restraint suit, completely tied to the bed, unable to move at all.
Due to the angle, Zhou Qian couldn’t see his face clearly, but he could see a little of his nose and a thin, slightly pale chin.
Qi Liuxing’s voice came from below the tree. “What are you looking for?”
“I’m looking for someone,” Zhou Qian said. “His name is Bai Zhou.”
“Bai Zhou? What’s special about him?” Qi Liuxing asked.
Zhou Qian paused for a moment and then said, “Nothing special. He’s been my… rival since childhood.”
After saying this, Zhou Qian laughed at his own joke. The term ‘rival’ had always been a joke on his part.
Bai Zhou never took the joke seriously or even got mad at him, probably because he never took Zhou Qian seriously.
“Your rival is in Zone X?” Qi Liuxing curiously asked.
“It might just be a coincidence, because…” Zhou Qian’s voice suddenly faltered.
Zhou Qian’s eyelids were flat, and his eyes were narrow. When he looked down, he easily seemed melancholic. Hearing the change in his voice, Qi Liuxing looked up and saw him like this.
Noticing his unusual demeanor, Qi Liuxing asked, “Why?”
“Because he’s dead,” Zhou Qian replied.
“How did he die?”
“I don’t know.”
Zhou Qian really didn’t know.
Holding the binoculars, he stared intently at the distant room and began to recount, “On the surface, he seemed gentle, but it felt like he was always competing with me behind the scenes, always trying to one-up me. Was it because he was too arrogant?”
Zhou Qian had average physical strength but had honed his skills in gambling under his father’s guidance. His skills weren’t just evident in card games but also in playing table tennis.
For a while, he was very interested in table tennis and often participated in school competitions.
In one final match, as expected, Zhou Qian faced Bai Zhou.
Zhou Qian narrowed his eyes, seeming lost in memory. “I won. He lost. After that, he transferred schools. Do you think he couldn’t handle the loss?”
Qi Liuxing didn’t know how to respond, so he remained silent.
Looking at the half of the chin exposed from the restraint suit, Zhou Qian slowly said, “After he transferred, I lost contact with him. I held a grudge against him for a year. When I went to his house later… his mother said I came at an unfortunate time, as he had just died. When she talked about him, she spoke as if discussing a stranger.”
“Why?” Qi Liuxing was extremely surprised. “Usually… it wouldn’t be like this, right?”
Zhou Qian replied, “When I went to their house, I saw his mother holding a chubby baby. They probably preferred their second child.”
Qi Liuxing asked again, “Is it possible… that Bai Zhou never actually died? His mother just admitted him to a mental institution and gave you a random excuse?”
“No.” Zhou Qian shook his head. “His mother gave me the address of his grave. I’ve been there. There’s a photo of him on the tombstone. He’ll forever remain 17—he hadn’t even reached adulthood.”
“Besides, even if he didn’t die…”
Zhou Qian’s pupils contracted. “Why would he be in Zone X? Many people in there have committed serious crimes.”
The sky was about to turn dusky.
The wind rustled the leaves, blending the fresh scent of grass and trees, entering Zhou Qian’s nostrils. It inadvertently reminded him of the time right after the final table tennis match in the first year of high school.
Outside the west gate of the campus, the small path was almost overshadowed by the sycamores on both sides, making the sunset appear like twilight. The streetlights were on, with countless specks of dust floating in the beams.
Bai Zhou stood beside the dim streetlight.
Looking at him in the light, Zhou Qian’s gaze carried the sharpness unique to young boys, while the slight smile on his lips had a hint of disdain.
He asked, gritting his teeth, “Why did you deliberately lose to me? Looking down on me?”
In contrast, Bai Zhou’s gaze at Zhou Qian was extremely calm. “I didn’t lose on purpose. You won on merit.”
“Bullshit.” Zhou Qian stepped forward aggressively, grabbing Bai Zhou’s collar. “That second last ball, you clearly could have caught it. Why did your hand tremble? Trying too hard, huh? And that last service error was even more ridiculous. Everyone knows you’re good at serving.”
“Bai Zhou, I really wanted to beat you, but not like this! I don’t need your pity!”
“Today, I indeed made mistakes. Next time, I’ll play my best against you.”
“When is ‘next time’?”
“We should have many opportunities like this. I promise you.”
“You…”
All of Zhou Qian’s anger, hostility, and bad temper seemed to hit cotton when faced with Bai Zhou’s nonchalant gaze. The energy went out, but no feedback was received. Zhou Qian’s glare intensified, no longer just about the match but also about why Bai Zhou remained so calm. It was probably something akin to a childish mentality of “I want to fight him, but he just won’t fight back”.
Despite the anger boiling inside, without realizing, Zhou Qian’s grip on Bai Zhou’s hand loosened.
He heard Bai Zhou say, “Goodbye, Zhou Qian,” before turning away.
The autumn sycamore leaves fell one after another, and under the row of streetlights, everything from that after-school evening in his memories took on a warm hue.
The boy walked away, his school bag on his back.
That was the last time Zhou Qian ever saw Bai Zhou.
At this moment, a few green leaves fell. Qi Liuxing played with them while asking Zhou Qian a few questions.
Zhou Qian didn’t answer. He sat on the tree, motionless as if frozen in time, seemingly lost in deep memories.
Qi Liuxing didn’t disturb him and simply took a nap right there.
After about fifteen minutes, Qi Liuxing was awakened by someone—it was Zhou Qian.
“What is it?” Qi Liuxing asked, still groggy from sleep.
Zhou Qian, with his dark pupils blending with the night, said, “You looked bored. How about accompanying me to dig a grave?”
“…?” Qi Liuxing, still half asleep, was confused. “What?”
Zhou Qian’s dark pupils became darker with the night. “I’m going to dig up Bai Zhou’s grave.”
If you were to ask Dong Zhi this question, his answer would probably be that after being around the male god for a while, all pretense and decorum are eventually lost.
Because the two of them had basically done everything that couples would do. Even the spiritual intercourse, which ordinary people couldn’t achieve, had been experienced countless times. Compared to physical pleasure, this exploration of the spiritual realm was even more endless and exhilarating. It felt as though every nerve ending had been lovingly caressed, making one tremble and weaken all over. If you combine this spiritual intercourse with physical actions, the effect was simply magnified.
Dong Zhi couldn’t adequately describe this feeling with mere words, but each instance certainly brought the two of them closer. The term “soulmate” wasn’t just a descriptor of a close relationship for them. Now, even if they were thousands of miles apart, while Dong Zhi may not know exactly what Long Shen was doing, he could still sense any intense emotions or imminent dangers Long Shen might face.
After all, his body was utterly destroyed back in the abyss of hell. The body he now inhabited was reshaped for him by Long Shen.
In other words, Dong Zhi had indeed died. Because his power was greater than that of Su Huan or Xiao Zhao, it would undoubtedly destabilize the balance of the world, and the underworld messengers must have seen through this, hence their insistence on detaining him.
Could it also be that because Long Shen gave him a portion of his power, it resulted in the lingering demonic qi within him after returning from the abyss?
Seeing Dong Zhi holding him and remaining silent, Long Shen, slightly puzzled, tilted his head and then pushed him down onto the bed. Due to the position, Dong Zhi’s T-shirt rolled up, revealing a portion of his fair waist, slender yet taut with muscle, that was very appealing to the touch.
As soon as Long Shen touched him, Dong Zhi’s eyes became hazy. Trying to regain his focus, Dong Zhi protested, “No cheating!”
Just now, when Long Shen touched him, he silently infused his qi into Dong Zhi, almost enchanting him.
Dong Zhi realized that his once aloof and reticent master was now more playful than before. Thinking back to the mischievous things Long Shen wrote in that notebook, perhaps he was never really aloof to begin with; it was just a misperception on Dong Zhi’s part.
“Master, when will the demonic qi within you be completely expelled?” Dong Zhi, his mind in a whirl, couldn’t help but grab Long Shen’s wandering hand.
Dong Zhi was unsure if Long Shen’s heightened desires after returning from the abyss were due to the influence of the demonic qi, as he was particularly interested and frequently took the initiative.
Long Shen: “I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter. It can’t control my mind and soul. Why?”
The corner of Dong Zhi’s mouth twitched. “So you can always blame the demonic qi for anything you do in the future.”
“No,” Long Shen pragmatically responded, freeing his hand from Dong Zhi’s loose grip and resuming his advances.
Before Dong Zhi’s reasoning could collapse completely, he heard Long Shen murmur, “Isn’t this what you like?”
Since when did he start liking this?! Confused, Dong Zhi was then swept up into a tumultuous consciousness, unable to speak any further.
The next afternoon, Dong Zhi finally managed to leave his soft bed, only to find out that Long Shen had already gone out and returned.
He brought back good news. According to the information provided by Deng Bin, Captain Yin and his team managed to retrieve surveillance footage of Deng Bin’s whereabouts on Nanyun Road that day. The timing indeed coincided with the incident involving Su Huan. Thus, Deng Bin now had an alibi. Although there was also footage of a shadowy figure impersonating Deng Bin entering and leaving the Deng residence, when compared, the chances of Deng Bin being exonerated greatly increased.
However, the Su family was convinced that Deng Bin was the murderer of their daughter and refused to let the matter rest. They repeatedly confronted the Deng family. This had surpassed Captain Yin’s responsibilities, and the police could do nothing about it.
Long before Deng Bin was captivated by Su Huan’s appearance, deeply desiring to marry her, the seeds of their tragic fate were already sown. If it weren’t for Deng Bin’s shallow infatuation with Su Huan’s beauty without truly understanding her character, and if it weren’t for Su Huan’s own restless heart being swayed by Ao Yin’s manipulation, their situation might have merely resulted in a divorce at most. It wouldn’t have escalated to the devastation of their family. Dong Zhi felt that even though Deng Bin wasn’t the killer, he was still partly to blame for the tragedy.
Eventually, the conflict between the two families was settled with the Deng family compensating the Su family a large sum of money. Two years after his release, Deng Bin remarried. This time, he chose someone from a similar background. The woman had also been divorced. However, their marital relationship wasn’t harmonious, leading to another divorce after a few years. All of this gossip was later relayed to Dong Zhi by Deng Po after chatting with Kan Chaosheng. Regardless, Dong Zhi and his team had completed their duties regarding this case. Anything else wasn’t their concern.
Chang Qing, in the end, didn’t express interest in joining the Special Administration Bureau. The day after the case was resolved, he left a short message saying that he was continuing his travels, then checked out and left.
For several years, Dong Zhi neither saw nor heard from Chang Qing. It wasn’t until many years later, on the night Kan Chaosheng became a true dragon and the heavens sent down thunder, that Dong Zhi, Long Shen, He Yu, Zhong Yuyi, and others hurriedly went to protect him, assisting the young jiao through the ordeal. In the flash of lightning that illuminated the earth, Dong Zhi thought he caught a glimpse of a familiar figure not too far away. Silently guarding and assisting from beneath the trees by the lake, it faintly resembled Chang Qing, someone he had interactions with in the past.
Throughout the spring and autumn years, everyone continued to move forward, never ceasing their journey of growth.
As for the current Kan Chaosheng, he was sent back to Wuzhiqi Well under Huaishui. All his snacks and communication tools were confiscated, and Long Shen didn’t leave him a single penny.
Climbing out of the well, soaking wet, Kan Chaosheng found himself face-to-face with an octopus.
The octopus excitedly said, “Big brother, you came to see me! Did you bring me a phone?”
Kan Chaosheng: …Sorry, I’m penniless right now, only a lowly jiao.
The Wuzhiqi clearly had “I knew you would come back” written all over his face, pointed at the octopus, and said, “Want to become a disciple? You’d have to call him senior brother.”
Kan Chaosheng jumped up. “Why? I’m clearly his elder brother!”
The Wuzhiqi laughed. “If you had taken the initiative to stay with him back then, wouldn’t that make you his senior brother? Yet in the end, you still came back after making all those detours.”
Kan Chaosheng: …
The octopus, confused, asked, “So, big brother has to call me senior brother?”
Wuzhiqi: “What are the rules for new disciples?”
The octopus replied to Kan Chaosheng, “Every morning you have to massage the master’s shoulders 500 times, tell bedtime stories about the outside world in the evening, and play cards with him when he’s bored on weekends. If you win, you practice breathing exercises 500 times. If you lose, you stand on your head for a day.”
Kan Chaosheng wailed, “Boss, I’d rather serve 20 years unpaid!”
Unfortunately, his cries only echoed in the cave, unheard by those above.
Long Shen and Dong Zhi, meanwhile, continued their journey south to Yangcheng.
On the way, Dong Zhi made a detour to Hezao Mountain to pay respects and report his activities over the past two years to his nominal master, assuring him that his name, Dong Zhi, had made its mark in the cultivation world. Given time, people would know about his master, Fang Yang, and the Hezao sect, which was also part of his heritage. Master Fang Yang, who never had a disciple in his lifetime, would surely rest in peace knowing that his only student had accomplished so much. Deep down in the afterlife, the old master must surely be resting in peace with a smile.
The last time was interrupted by unexpected events, and with various trivial matters that later occupied him, only now did Dong Zhi remember the magical mirror that Long Shen had used to capture dark souls. He inquired about Tang Jing’s recent situation.
Long Shen shook his head. “He’s been constantly searching for a way to resurrect Ming Xian. I haven’t been in touch with him for quite some time.”
He took out his phone and dialed a number.
Considering Tang Jing should currently be deep within the mountains, it was doubtful if the call would go through due to bad reception. However, they were in luck. After a few rings, the call was answered, and although the connection was choppy, it was indeed Tang Jing.
Tang Jing’s voice sounded tired, but there was an underlying serenity. “Actually, I haven’t been practicing for quite a while. Now, traveling with Ming Xian across mountains and rivers, I’ve found the peace I once felt.”
“Can Ming Xian be brought back to life?” Dong Zhi asked, posing the question that weighed on his heart.
Though he barely had any interactions with Ming Xian, their initial encounter was under the ancient tombs of Yinchuan, where weapons clashed, and sparks flew. Dong Zhi held Tang Jing in high regard and couldn’t bear to see him exhaust himself over resurrecting Ming Xian. Naturally, he hoped for a positive outcome for them.
“I don’t know.”
Tang Jing sat on the ground cross-legged with the guqin across his lap. He gently plucked its strings, his gaze filled with tenderness and care.
Perhaps, initially driven by guilt and wanting to make amends, he experienced the profound pain that humans yearn to escape. However, their intertwined fates couldn’t easily be separated for a dispassionate analysis.
“The guqin is gradually being restored. Maybe one day he will come back; it could be in a few years, decades, centuries, or even longer. But I think, I will wait.”
His words were meant for Long Shen and Dong Zhi, for himself, and for the guqin. “Since I’ve started this, I will definitely wait for an outcome.”
Dong Zhi felt a pang of disappointment but was also filled with a glimmer of hope.
“Tang Jing.”
“Hmm?”
“Ming Xian will surely come back. He has a thing for looks, how could he bear to leave such a handsome guy like you to someone else?”
“That’s a good point!” Tang Jing laughed heartily. His cheerful laughter from the other end of the line sounded like the same playful person who was once cosplayed in women’s clothing.
The author has something to say:
This concludes the extra chapters. For updates regarding the publication, please follow me on Weibo. I’d like to thank all the readers for accompanying Dong Zhi on his journey from the train heading to Changchun, helping him step into a new world, grow, chase after his male god, and evolve from an ordinary individual to a qualified member of the Special Administration Bureau. Maybe he’s just like the inconspicuous person next to you, silently guarding the world alongside Long Shen.
The green mountains remain unchanged, the clear rivers flow continuously, Dong Zhi and Long Shen are always there, always happy. By the way, an early Happy New Year to everyone! May the upcoming year be filled with prosperity, health, and contentment~~
Kinky Thoughts:
This marks the end of the extras. If you did, please consider supporting the author by buying the raws. You can use Google Chrome with their auto translate and this guide on how to buy novels on jjwxc. Remember, only with your (financial) support can artists continue to produce more great works.
I also like to thank everyone for your comments, encouragement, help with my translations, and ko-fi donations. It in part fuels my motivation to release so frequently.
This was what Qi Liuxing, Gao Shan, Yun Xiangrong, and even Zhu Qiang and Yu Xian all thought.
But as they watched him about to take a bite of the apple, the other three players had no choice but to follow his instructions, cross the lake to Epoh’s side, and cautiously, yet helplessly… pluck a hair from his head.
Qi Liuxing and Gao Shan felt too awkward to say anything.
Yun Xiangrong muttered before plucking the hair, “Blame Zhou Qian for this*, not us!”
*Every injustice has its perpetrator (冤有头债有主) Metaphor referring to every grievance has a specific source or person responsible, so one should address or seek redress from the right person or source rather than blaming the wrong individual.
Epoh: “…”
A moment later, each of the three returned to the other side of the lake, each holding a hair. Zhou Qian, holding an apple, walked over and sat next to Epoh again.
But he didn’t immediately eat the apple. Instead, he leaned against a large tree and closed his eyes as if to rest.
The three players on the other side of the lake seemed to know why he did this, so they didn’t say much. They just sat down and waited for the right moment to come.
Yu Xian, who was watching the screen of his phone, was a bit lost. He asked Zhu Qiang, “What does this mean? Although it’s incredible, wasn’t Qian Ge planning to eat the apple?”
Zhu Qiang thought for a while and said, “I get it. He’s waiting for 12:45 am to eat the apple.”
The ceremony started at 10:00 pm and ended at midnight. The goddess announced that the palace doors would open at 1:00 am. Those who successfully became gods after eating the apple would be attacked by the Great God Epoh 15 minutes later. If they survived the attack, they would become real gods and achieve the ultimate hidden accomplishment.
Zhu Qiang explained the rules again to Yu Xian, then analyzed, “Qian Ge probably wants to time it just right. If he eats the apple at 12:45 and succeeds, he will likely be attacked right at 1:00. That’s when the palace doors will open. He could still escape and clear the game.”
Yu Xian: “I see… So, when Epoh attacks, as long as Qian Ge manages to run out in time, the game ends. And the attack wouldn’t reach him anymore. That means he would have achieved god status and received the ultimate hidden accomplishment.”
“Exactly. That’s probably Qian Ge’s plan.”
“But even so, Epoh’s power is terrifying. How can Qian Ge escape?”
“After becoming a god, his health would greatly increase. Maybe there’s still a chance?”
“No chance at all. Unlike Little Brother Xiao Qi’s scraping skill, Epoh’s attack is a one-shot kill.”
“What I’m most curious about isn’t how Qian Ge would dodge the attack. How can he be so certain of his success when the chances of successfully becoming a god are only 36.8%?”
In the game, time slowly moved to 12:45 am.
Zhou Qian, playing with the apple in his hand, turned to Epoh, who was covered in leaves and petals and had his eyes closed.
Zhou Qian whispered, “Can I eat your apple?”
Opening his eyes, Epoh met Zhou Qian’s somewhat mischievous gaze. “Aren’t you afraid?”
“There doesn’t seem to be much to fear.” Zhou Qian’s deep black eyes were inscrutable, with a hint of madness. “All I’ll do is… experience the pain you’ve been through.”
Epoh said, “It seems you’re looking forward to this pain.”
“Maybe.” Zhou Qian nodded thoughtfully. “I haven’t felt pain in a long time. I’ve lost all sensation. So I think… I’m suitable for becoming a god. I’m ready for the pain.”
Epoh remarked, “It seems you’re a gambler.”
Instead of directly answering, Zhou Qian suddenly said, “Your real form is this tree, or at least something very similar. You and the tree are interdependent? The numerous apple trees on the other side of the lake are just illusions created by your spiritual power. They don’t bear apples because of you. Only the tree that surrounds you can absorb your blood and bear apples… You heal each other and depend on each other to live?”
Epoh didn’t respond but seemed to implicitly acknowledge Zhou Qian’s speculation.
So Zhou Qian asked again, “So many people have died here, but all the flesh and blood have disappeared. Were they absorbed by you and the tree? Has your power increased? If I’m a gambler like mentioned, and now I’m your believer, if I make a wish to you, can you increase my luck?”
Zhou Qian’s voice became very gentle, and his words were very seductive.
It seemed as if he wasn’t worshiping the Great God Epoh but rather guiding the god to believe in him.
However, Epoh stared at him and shook his head. “No. I no longer have the power to fulfill human wishes. I didn’t lie to you. Human power is useless to me. Killing them won’t make me stronger.”
“Alright. Let’s take a gamble then.” After saying this, Zhou Qian looked at Epoh with a smile, and decisively took a bite of the apple.
“Someone led me into this game,” Zhou Qian said leisurely, biting into the crisp apple. “Actually, I’m not clear about who controls this game, nor the so-called ‘sub-levels’, or what kind of dimension they’re in. But all the rules in the game are similar to many games I’ve played.”
“Just like people, games have their own personalities. Players can feel the character of the game designers while playing. Up to now, I’ve discovered some traits related to the designer of this ‘Apple Paradise’ level.”
“He likes to play tricks on people. He enjoys seeing the regretful expressions on their faces.”
“First, the game starts with a scoring minigame, and the main goal is to find the ‘fake believers’. Most players will form cliques at this stage, dividing and making it nearly impossible for them to cooperate later. This has already determined that the chances for players to collaborate against the transformed believers to get hidden achievements are very low.”
“At that time, no one would think that both the goddesses and the Great God didn’t care about the authenticity of believers. They can pass peacefully.”
“Secondly, in the ritual of tormenting the god, players will definitely think that not hurting you is the wisest choice. But this will lead them to face a terrifying pursuit in the subsequent stages…”
“Third, after the ritual, most players guess that the transformed believers will eat the apple and attack them, thinking that hiding in the treehouse is the best strategy. They’ll just get through without knowing how.”
“They never imagined that in the end, only 7 believers will transform, and as long as they survive for 15 minutes, the Great God will kill all the transformed believers.”
“All these traps reflect the character of the level designer.”
“He wants to see the regret of the players when they find out the truth—was it really that easy to pass? Was it really that easy to get the hidden achievement? If only I wasn’t so afraid of death…”
“Based on this logic, I’m confident in my deduction—”
“After getting the hidden achievement, when they hear about the ultimate hidden achievement but find out the chance of transformation is only 36.8%, most will choose to give up, thinking they don’t dare to gamble.”
“But based on this designer’s temperament, I guess… For players, the success rate of this segment is actually 100%, as long as they’re willing to endure the pain.”
Smiling at Epoh, Zhou Qian’s eyes shimmered.
“So, Great God, you don’t have to grant me luck. I’m confident… I can become a god like you.”
The game designer tried to divide the players at the beginning of the level by using the scoring minigame to prevent them from cooperating later.
Zhou Qian’s strategy was to keep all the gold coins and useful items in his hands.
With this, he had enough chips to become the master of the game.
He didn’t need to persuade everyone to cooperate; he controlled everyone to act according to his thoughts.
From the beginning, he put himself in control of the entire situation.
And he really did have that ability. With just a few plot details, he even grasped the intentions of the game designer.
Zhou Qian’s words left the Yu Zhu duo, who were listening, in stunned admiration.
Before they could react, they suddenly noticed that Zhou Qian’s body began to change—he was emitting a red glow, and his pupils turned white…
He truly succeeded in his transformation!
……
Zhou Qian felt as if something called ‘pain’ was sprouting within him. It hadn’t grown fully enough to make him truly feel the pain, but it made him feel an inexplicable restlessness.
It seemed that he had to go on a killing spree to dispel this restlessness.
Zhou Qian immediately stood up, looking everywhere for prey.
Around him… there was something alive!
No, that’s not right…He exudes an aura of pain; he must be one of his own kind…
Thinking this, Zhou Qian unconsciously walked past the Great God Epoh, then slowly crossed the bridge, reaching the opposite shore of the lake.
On the opposite shore, Qi Liuxing, Gao Shan, and Yun Xiangrong, who were previously calm, all stood up, prepared for anything.
They didn’t move, just intently watching Zhou Qian.
The Zhou Qian before them had drastically changed—scales had grown on his face and hands. These were deep blue scales that, under the gentle glow inside the palace, reflected a dazzling white light.
When Zhou Qian lifted his hand, one could see that his fingers were joined together—he had developed webbing.
Zhou Qian stared at the three, and they stared back without blinking.
For a moment, none of them moved.
Zhou Qian looked dazed and lost, while the three others tightly gripped a strand of Epoh’s hair, sweat forming on their foreheads.
After a short while, a peculiar fish tail grew from Zhou Qian’s back, and he walked away dragging the tail.
The other three let out a long sigh of relief, their tense bodies finally relaxing.
As for Zhou Qian’s transformation, everyone had many questions in their hearts. But they dared not speak, fearing that any small disturbance might provoke his attack.
In front of the phone screen, Yu Xian and Zhu Qiang were quickly discussing.
“The direction of a deified person’s evolution is related to their consciousness, right?”
“Indeed. The Believer No. 1 became a pregnant monster because, in her consciousness, she was pregnant. Later believers knew the lake was dangerous and shouldn’t go into it, so they grew wings to fly. The subsequent giant cats and cheetahs… I think it’s similar. They evolved to have incredible speed just to chase after the fast-moving Qi Liuxing.”
“What about Qian Ge? Why did he develop scales? By rights, he should have had a subconscious warning not to go into the lake! Why did he become fish-like?”
“I don’t know! Could it be… because of his real-life experiences, he has some obsession with scales?”
Zhou Qian was completely unaware of the discussions on the screen or the thoughts of his three teammates.
The world before his eyes had become a vast white expanse.
Unconsciously stepping onto the crystal bridge and then to the opposite shore, he didn’t realize he was heading deep into the forest. All he felt was that he was walking towards… that night eight months ago that felt like a nightmare.
That night, he drank the soup handed to him by the maid and fell into a deep sleep.
Awakening in the middle of the night, lying on the dining room floor, he smelled a pungent gas and, for the first time, felt the sensation of being on the brink of death.
At that moment, he could hardly breathe; his lungs and head ached immensely, and the world before him seemed shattered into countless pieces, each stained a different color.
He knew it was a hallucination caused by gas poisoning.
In the hallucinatory world, amidst the dazzling colors, Zhou Qian saw a dragon.
As the dragon moved towards him through the colorful fragments, he felt certain he was going to die, as he couldn’t even feel pain anymore.
It felt as if his soul had left his body, floating in the air, indifferently watching his own body grow cold.
But the next moment, he felt a cool and extremely comforting sensation.
It was the dragon’s tail wrapping around him, enveloping his body.
His soul was pulled back by this cold sensation, and Zhou Qian regained his sense of pain. He gasped for air instinctively, craving oxygen. Then, from somewhere, oxygen indeed began to flood into his body.
As he regained sensation, the shattered world pieced back together, and Zhou Qian knew he was alive.
When he woke up, Zhou Qian couldn’t remember the appearance of the dragon, but he remembered the color of its scales—a beautiful, glowing deep blue, like stars deep in the ocean.
Vivid blue stars filled his surroundings, creating a world full of brilliant starlight.
Zhou Qian saw himself playing with these stars.
Touching them, they felt sticky, wet, and cold.
So, this is what stars feel like.
Eight months ago, when Zhou Qian had this thought, he smelled the pungent scent of disinfectant. Then he woke up in a hospital, and the stars all around him vanished.
Now, he was once again playing with the stars.
Just as he hadn’t had enough fun, he came to his senses and found himself by a familiar lakeside.
Rationality and consciousness returned simultaneously. He glanced at his watch and discovered that 15 minutes had passed, though he had completely lost his sense of time earlier.
The moment his sanity returned, and overwhelming pain also surged forth.
It felt as if a knife had ruthlessly pierced his heart, and then was violently pulled out, leaving him drenched in blood. Cold sweat broke out all over him, wetting his clothes almost instantly.
Then, a slap resounded, strong enough to plunge his vision into darkness momentarily, only returning after a while. The feeling of fists, countless stabs, even the sensation of being sliced into pieces…
Zhou Qian experienced it all.
He lay agonizingly on the ground, drenched in sweat.
His hair clung wetly to his temples, and his sweat-drenched eyelashes made his eyes appear misty. His body looked as if it had been drenched in sweat, and his complexion was pale to near transparent.
However, the strangest feeling at this moment was—his heart was completely calm. It felt as if he had been bound to a massive tree, transforming into Epoh.
The fanatical believers who repay kindness with revenge were venting their anger on him. When he opened his eyes, he seemed to see countless believers stabbing and slapping him.
If he still had his former temper, he would have charged in anger, ready to fight them to the death.
But the Zhou Qian now realized—he couldn’t feel any anger.
His body was in extreme pain, but his heart felt nothing.
When exactly had he fallen ill?
Only Zhou Qian knew. It wasn’t eight months ago when his parents passed away.
He had been sick long before that. He had thought he was recovering, but he lost the medicine that could have saved him.
Instead of seeing the green trees and blue lake, the scene shifted to a path lined with sycamore trees from years ago.
On a street at dusk, leaves were fluttering, and everything was overlaid with a vintage filter.
A young man in white sneakers and a blue school uniform gradually disappeared into the distance, fading into a yellowish sycamore tree grove, becoming indistinguishable.
Zhou Qian wanted to chase after him, but the pain immobilized him. He couldn’t even muster the strength to shout, “Come back!”
Zhou Qian’s consciousness started to fade, lost in illusions.
Until loud shouts pulled him back from the void.
It was Qi Liuxing and others who had rushed to the lakeside, shouting his name.
Zhou Qian looked up and saw the Great God Epoh close at hand.
Epoh raised a hand, showing his clearly defined, long fingers. His skin was fair, yet the veins protruding from his hand looked powerful, capable of deciding life and death in a snap.
The hand moved forward, gripping Zhou Qian’s jaw.
It felt like, in the next moment, his neck would be snapped by Epoh.
From Epoh’s mouth came a cold, mocking, merciless, and murderous statement. Although spoken softly, it hit Zhou Qian’s ears with thunderous force.
“A firefly’s glow—how dare it dream of standing alongside the sun and moon?”
Zhou Qian seemed not to hear as his vision blurred with double images.
The yellow sycamore tree path and the vibrant Apple Paradise intertwined, separated, and then merged again.
The fading silhouette of the young man on the path overlapped with the god in the paradise. He saw the young man turn around, revealing a pair of calm, contrasting eyes.
Speaking softly and with a blurred gaze towards Epoh, yet clearly looking at someone deep in his consciousness, Zhou Qian uttered two words to Epoh. “Bai, Zhou.”
Kinky Thoughts:
This is the last of the free chapters on jjwxc. If you’ve been enjoying the novel so far and are able to, please consider supporting the author by buying the raws. You can use Google Chrome with their auto translate and this guide on how to buy novels on jjwxc. Remember, only with your (financial) support can artists continue to produce more great works.
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