As a place where the government managed prisoners, it should naturally have a well-regulated routine, much like a psychiatric hospital.
Late into the night, the television broadcast news with a low hum. It was already midnight, and the voting had been ongoing for four hours. In the room where Lin Chen and Shen Lian were having their conversation, the LCD TV continuously displayed the voting results, while Lin Chen kept on drinking water.
During this time, many other news events occurred across different locations. For instance, there was a collective student protest against the arbitrary execution of criminals, and a big fight broke out among powerful inmates in the dark room of Min River No. 1 Prison, which eventually ended with Inspector Huang intervening to break it up.
However, overall, nothing major occurred that night that could overshadow the opening of the voting.
But perhaps due to the lateness of the hour, the voting pace slowed down, and some minor fluctuations appeared. The government’s official website still maintained a high ratio of 1:4, and no one was surprised by this result.
According to a certain statistician, when the sample size was larger, the data tended to stabilize. In other words, by the time one-sixth of the voting time had passed, the final result could be determined with a high degree of certainty.
Shen Lian wasn’t surprised by this outcome. Although she didn’t know the exact ratio that the final result would have, she knew that most people would choose to sacrifice the lives of the four criminals to obtain the antidote, which would save more people. The overwhelming majority would support this decision.
So, what she was most curious about now was what Lin Chen was up to.
“Do you know, Consultant Lin…” She suddenly spoke, causing Lin Chen to pause in his action of holding the water cup.
During this period, their roles seemed to have reversed. She became the one constantly talking and asking questions, while Lin Chen had taken a folding stool, propped himself up on the back of a chair, and was dozing lightly.
Lin Chen raised his eyelids slightly to look at her. His face was extremely pale, showing signs of mental exhaustion.
“You’re thirsty and keep wanting to drink water. It’s also a form of acute withdrawal reaction,” she told Lin Chen.
Lin Chen gave a slight smile, tapping the glass with his fingertips, and his smile seemed forced. “Well then, why don’t you cooperate and give me the antidote so I can rest?”
“Tsk.” Shen Lian chuckled happily. “No way, I find this version of you quite cute. Weren’t you full of confidence earlier?”
Lin Chen coaxed her like one would to a little girl. “I’m still very confident.”
Shen Lian frowned and said, “I really suspect now that you wanted to kill those four people from the beginning to get the antidote. When you guys get ruthless, it’s sometimes even more brutal than us.”
Lin Chen tapped the glass with his fingertips and made a crisp sound. He suddenly looked at her earnestly, his pitch-black eyes full of inquiry. “You always use ‘you guys’ and ‘we’ to separate the human species. What basis do you have for doing that?”
“Huh?” Shen Lian felt surprised. “Wasn’t it ‘you guys’ who separated ‘us’ in the first?”
“That sounds like a tongue twister.” Lin Chen shook his head.
“Criminologists have spent hundreds, even thousands of years studying why a person becomes a criminal, from the earliest phrenology to the present genetic determinism. Aren’t they making great efforts to identify potential criminals?”
“That’s just humans exploring the unknown about themselves,” Lin Chen said.
His face was calm, and this attitude irritated Shen Lian. “Yeah, just like studying human diseases. We need to correct, treat, and, if necessary, remove the parts. You guys treat us as… What exactly do you see ‘us’ as? You already know in your hearts!”
“What do you think it is, hm?” Lin Chen asked rhetorically.
Shen Lian suddenly choked, finding herself unable to come up with the right adjective at the moment.
“Potential criminals, objects that must be eliminated?” Lin Chen struggled to pull the clothes covering his legs and turned to point at the television. “So now, I’ve selected four real criminals. In a more extreme situation, you can see what we really consider you guys to be.”
Although Lin Chen was as weak as an addict, he still spoke so firmly that it left Shen Lian wondering where his confidence came from. “It’s 1:4, bud. You can’t possibly win!”
“In your eyes, what does my so-called winning mean?” It was at this moment that Lin Chen seemed to grasp onto something crucial and, with a somewhat suspicious demeanor, answered his own question, “If I win, those four people won’t die in the end, right?”
Lin Chen stopped tapping the glass, and this pause annoyed Shen Lian even more. But Lin Chen always knew how to provoke her. “You see, Shen Lian, it’s just a very ordinary idea from you, but if I were your therapist, I’d tell you that you’re not even aware of the cognitive issues behind this question.”
“Too bad you’re not,”
Before Shen Lian could continue, Lin Chen interrupted her.
“You’re afraid, yes. It looks like you’re confident, standing there as if you’re about to be the winner and mocking me. But what if I win? How will you handle that? You don’t really care about winning or losing; you care about the ideas symbolized behind it. If you win, it means your previously held beliefs were completely correct. Humans are selfish creatures, and you are just a kind closer to your true nature. But what if I win?” Lin Chen finally revealed a genuine smile, radiating an extremely bright aura. “If I win, what does it mean? Have you truly thought about this question?”
“Shut up. Do you think there’s even a possibility of that happening?” Shen Lian said coldly.
“‘Denial’ is the most basic and primitive psychological defense mechanism. If I were your therapist, I would seize this opportunity to say a few more words. Although ‘winning’ and ‘losing’ are just simple words, from my perspective, this term actually reflects your basic cognitive ability for moral evaluation. You actually have a clear understanding of what opinion you would hold about me. You even fully comprehend the social moral evaluation system. But it simply doesn’t move you, so you choose not to follow, let alone respect it. But deep down inside, you really know what kindness is.”
For a long time, Shen Lian couldn’t find the words to respond, feeling genuinely disgusted and nauseous by Lin Chen’s words. “Lin Chen, congratulations, you’ve succeeded in disgusting me.”
“My pleasure,” Lin Chen said.
Following the usual flow, when Lin Chen finished his concluding statement, the conversation should have come to an end.
But perhaps Lin Chen’s previous words really struck a nerve with her, or maybe it was just some psychological therapist’s technique, she couldn’t help but retort, “Come on, my point was simple. From both the perspective of human selfishness and human conformity, they would vote to execute those four criminals.”
“I’d like to hear the details.”
Lin Chen only replied like this, and regardless of how much or how little he said, it annoyed Shen Lian.
“Previously, I always thought you would create a batch of accounts online to spread grand virtues and goodness, to influence foolish people to make choices, thus reflecting what you call the brilliance of human nature.”
“That’s not beautiful. As I’ve said before, since it’s each individual’s choice, then it should be determined by each person’s free will.”
“But you not guiding doesn’t mean others won’t guide. In group environments, people tend to conform, especially online. Once someone expresses an opinion early, loudly, and it sounds very reasonable, many foolish people will be influenced, keep spreading it, and form fixed ideas.” Shen Lian paused and continued, “And often, those who are eager to express their own views, tsk…”
Lin Chen shook his head, and his feet followed with a little sway, as if expressing his helplessness.
Shen Lian knew that, in a sense, Lin Chen had a clearer understanding of this matter than her, so she had nothing more to say.
Just as she was about to continue, Lin Chen’s phone rang. Although there was no ringtone, Shen Lian clearly heard the vibration sound.
This was the first time Lin Chen’s phone rang since he entered the interrogation room for so long. Shen Lian knew something must have happened.
However, when she subconsciously stared at Lin Chen, the weak man who had been half-leaning on the chair suddenly stood up, pointed to the hidden door in the interrogation room, and coaxed her, “I need to use the restroom. You stay here for a while, be good.”
It was simply telling a blatant lie, and Shen Lian was infuriated.
…..
The interrogation room’s built-in bathroom was very small.
It only took two steps to reach the end, and when standing to urinate, your back would press against the cold back wall.
The flush toilet and sink were of the lowest quality to prevent any impulsive actions—even the mirror on the wall was covered with a simple layer of cellophane to avoid any danger.
Therefore, when standing in front of the sink and looking at himself, Lin Chen always felt as if he was seeing a ghost.
He turned on the tap and aimlessly let the water flow over his fingers while using his other hand to answer the phone. “Hello.”
“Why is your voice so hoarse? How much nonsense did you say?” Su Fengzi’s voice sounded in the earpiece, slightly mocking, and Lin Chen finally heard the tone of a normal person, which made him feel a little warmth.
“I was discussing psychological defense mechanisms with Shen Lian, and then got into the topic of group psychology. If we went deeper, we would probably get into the field of mirror neurons. Fortunately, you called.”
Su Fengzi was obviously not a conventional normal person. He only said, “Are you interrogating or dating? Does Xing Conglian even care about you?”
“I’m a person with my own opinions; he can’t control me.” Lin Chen laughed helplessly again. He turned off the tap and sat on the toilet with his knees against the wall. It was an uncomfortable posture, but for some inexplicable reason, it made him feel safe.
Su Fengzi probably knew that he had sat down, so he changed the subject. “It’s already so late. Your dear Inspector Huang almost shot someone in the cell. Fortunately, the director cut off the signal in time. Have you found a breakthrough with Shen Lian?”
“No, I haven’t discussed anything about her personally yet,” Lin Chen honestly replied.
“There are still 20 hours left, Lin Chen. You can’t just be direct with Shen Lian?” Su Fengzi said, a little impatiently.
“I’m always gentle with girls.”
“So you asked me to come to Yongchuan Medical College to find something related to Duan Wanshan and can break through Shen Lian’s defenses, but you’re chatting about poems, songs, and life ideals with a little beauty?”
Su Fengzi rarely sounded annoyed like this, and Lin Chen could almost imagine him standing alone under a streetlight, sulking. Although he knew that Su Fengzi deliberately said this to make him relax, he still couldn’t help but laugh. “After all, I’m counting on you, Shixiong.”
“I’ve already looked into it. After so many years, who can remember a small detail from many years ago? You don’t even tell me what aspect the detail might be related to. It’s as difficult as finding another planet with life in the universe.”
“Your analogy is really beautiful, Shixiong.”
On the other end of the phone, Su Fengzi let out a long sigh and finally said, “I’m very worried.”
Lin Chen knew that this wasn’t a joke. He looked at the suppressed wall in front of him and listened as Su Fengzi continued, “If more people really believe that those four should die, will you kill them in exchange for the antidote?”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
“Pay them for their lives.”
“That is meaningless,” Su Fengzi said.
“But what else can I do?” Lin Chen replied calmly.
“I understand,” Su Fengzi said solemnly. “Although I think it’s not worth it, I respect your choice.”
Just like the second hand of a clock passing by without any care, the voting began in a moment of intense anticipation yet silent tranquility.
At least when the broadcasting journalist switched the screen back to the .org-ending website, the real-time visitor count at the bottom had already surpassed five hundred thousand, rapidly increasing at a rate too fast for the naked eye to discern.
Somewhere along the line, a small button labeled “View Voting Data” appeared on the website.
Many people instinctively moved their cursors over the slightly raised button, but when it came to actually clicking it, their fingers hesitated over the left mouse button, feeling an unexplained palpitation.
I support the execution of the criminals — 88.5% — 905 votes.
I do not support the execution of the criminals — 11.5% — 118 votes.
“These are the real-time voting results five minutes after the official voting started, which isn’t surprising.”
This was what the male anchor in the live broadcast room of Yongchuan TV news said.
……
Min River No. 1 Prison.
Yan Guiqiu was getting restless; he felt like he had been locked up for at least a day and a night.
If it weren’t for the dim light emitted by the extremely simple light bulb on the ceiling, he would have thought he had entered a grave.
At the beginning, he tried to talk to the other three bosses, but no one responded to him. After all, the prison was a place with a strict hierarchy.
Then he attempted to knock on the iron door of the small dark room, but the police officer surnamed Huang who brought him in had only said, “Shut up and wait”, and ignored him after that.
He could only crouch in the corner of the small dark room, maintaining a not-so-obvious distance from Zhao Yi on the lower bunk, Qian Bao on the upper bunk, and Sun Zhen leaning against the corner.
But this did nothing to alleviate his anxious mood. It was said that those who had committed homicides carried a murderous aura with them, something he didn’t have much understanding of before. However, as time passed meaninglessly, he felt the palpable hostility in this small dark room growing more substantial.
The bosses couldn’t bear it much longer…
Thinking of this, he couldn’t help but shudder.
Just at that moment, Zhao Yi, who had been sitting like a king all along, stood up.
Before Yan Guiqiu could react, a pair of large hands descended from above, firmly gripping his neck.
Zhao Yi’s movements were too fast, and Yan Guiqiu’s vision went black as he was lifted up like a little chick and thrown against the iron door with a thud.
His head hit the door hard, causing pain to shoot through him. He couldn’t breathe, and his mind went blank. He couldn’t even muster the strength to struggle; he just felt like he was going to die.
Suddenly, the pressure on his back lessened, and the tightly closed iron door finally opened.
Yan Guiqiu fell to the ground, and Zhao Yi let go of him. His vision was still blurry, and he could only cover his neck and gasp for breath heavily.
In a daze, he saw a pair of black leather boots in front of him, their surface polished to a shine, even reflecting his disheveled appearance after the ordeal. Yan Guiqiu raised his head and saw the cold and indifferent police officer standing there.
The officer held four white envelopes and handed one of them to him.
“Open it.”
He heard the officer say to him.
Huang Ze stood in this small dark room permeated with the smell of cement and faint traces of blood, trying his best to remain calm.
He was well aware of how many citizens were watching the live broadcast through the installed cameras. Every action of his represented the highest position of the police, and it would be reviewed over and over again by the media and the public.
Even he himself would be scrutinized just like these four criminals, and he truly loathed this feeling, but he had no choice. Lin Chen had requested him to be here, executing the most crucial part of the plan: preventing these four individuals from dying inexplicably during the voting process and, after the voting results were out, taking them out of the dark room or executing them.
Of course, Huang Ze never believed that the former result would happen. Therefore, this task was destined to be extremely cruel, and it was suitable for him to carry it out.
Huang Ze sneered inwardly but showed no expression on his face. He took two steps in the dim prison cell and then handed out the remaining three envelopes one by one.
He didn’t understand the meaning of Lin Chen playing this kind of trick with these similar-looking envelopes. Before coming here, he had already opened and read all four letters, and they were exactly the same content.
Perhaps, to show respect for the sacrificial offering, Lin Chen didn’t use a photocopier but copied the letters by hand four times.
In the letters, Lin Chen explained to the four individuals why they were chosen and what would happen to them within the next 24 hours. He even briefly explained the voting rules and fairness guarantee in the letters, which Huang Ze felt was merely adding fuel to the fire.
As expected, during the time he waited for the four to read the letters, someone had already started tearing the paper.
Huang Ze glanced up slightly, and the swindler on the upper bunk exposed his fat head with a cold and evil look. He casually tore Lin Chen’s handwritten letter into pieces and threw the white paper shreds onto Huang Ze’s face.
‘Are you looking for death?!’ Huang Ze thought, but he politely warned Qian Bao, “If I were you, I would try to be gentler and more frugal, seeking the audience’s forgiveness in front of the TV. Maybe they’ll give you a chance to survive.”
He dared to say this because he was completely facing away from the camera, and Lin Chen specifically asked for no audio recording in the small dark room.
The chubby swindler burst into loud laughter, but his tone was terrifyingly cold. “If you have the guts, just kill me.” He faced the camera and flipped his middle finger. “If you don’t kill me, I’ll look down on you all.”
Hearing this, Huang Ze shrugged; criminals were indeed unreasonable.
However, just as Qian Bao’s arrogant laughter echoed in the dark room, Huang Ze heard a faint voice at his feet.
“This… Officer, this must be a mistake, right?” The voice was high-pitched and thin, something you wouldn’t expect from a normal man.
But when Huang Ze looked down at the creature that looked like a black rat at his feet, he could understand why this man’s voice sounded that way.
Greed, cowardice, timidity, terror…
These words almost filled the man’s face, making it disgusting. He believed that the viewers in front of their TV screens would have the same opinion.
Yan Guiqiu held the letter while his hands trembled, and his eyes became teary. He tentatively asked him, “Huang… Officer Huang… Why was I chosen?”
“It’s stated in the letter. It was completely random sampling, and your number happened to be drawn.”
“No… It’s not… Why me? How did it end up being me?” Yan Guiqiu seemed to still be immersed in enormous disbelief, not accepting his fate. He looked at the letter upside down several times in a hurry and urgently said, “I… I was going to be released on parole in a few days. How could I have been chosen? This must be a mistake.”
Huang Ze lowered his head to look at him but remained silent.
“I’m just unlucky. I didn’t steal anything valuable, and I even broke my leg. Why am I so unlucky?” Yan Guiqiu was close to crying, as if he had suddenly thought of something. He grabbed Huang Ze’s pants leg, as if holding onto a lifeline, and pleaded, “Can you change it? Mr. Police Officer, draw again. Please draw again, I beg you!”
The skinny man’s voice was pitiful, but the little bit of sympathy that arose in Huang Ze’s heart vanished after hearing this plea. He didn’t know what hope Lin Chen had left, but he genuinely felt that using these four trash individuals to save other innocent people was the most cost-effective deal in the whole world.
……
Huang Ze wasn’t the only one who shared the same sentiment.
At least on the official website ending with .org, the ratio of “life or death” was approaching 2:8 as the number of voters increased.
Although it seemed like there were more people opposed to killing the criminals to obtain the antidote, considering the rapid expansion in the number of participants, this was still an extremely frightening and significant ratio.
Many citizens were even more shocked to discover that the police, or, more precisely, the government, weren’t joking. Around 8:30 in the evening, some citizen squares and public spots that should have quieted down once again lit up with lights and became lively.
At that time, some aunties and uncles hadn’t completely left the square after their square dance. Some small delivery trucks came to the edge of the square, and well-trained staff who didn’t look like ordinary construction workers carried tents off the trucks and set up several large ones in just five minutes.
These tents looked like they were taken from the government’s reserve supplies, brand new and unopened, and the rainproof fabric shone brightly under the lights.
After setting up the tents, the staff unloaded a few tables and chairs from the truck and then orderly left as if hurrying to the next location.
After seeing the staff leave, the children, who were still strolling around, held their parents’ hands and came to the side of the tent.
Some of them extended their chubby little hands to tentatively poke the iron pole, while the bolder ones had already lifted the curtain and were going in and out of the tent, playing with great delight.
Similar scenes were continuously unfolding in the three provinces. The reason the public sometimes needed the government was because they could be truly powerful.
Many activity centers that had already closed their doors also lit up almost simultaneously. Some people were organizing tables and chairs, while others received thick sealed boxes, looking tired and uncertain as they looked inside at the thousands of blank ballots.
In the dark night, the crowds outside each tent grew larger. Some residents even came downstairs in slippers to see the facilities built within five minutes.
The police hadn’t officially announced the specific process for offline voting through Yongchuan TV, but looking at these tents, many residents could connect them with what had happened today.
“Damn, pinch me, am I dreaming? Seriously?” A white-collar worker who had just gotten off work pushed his friend next to him and looked incredulously at the tent under the tree through the gaps in the crowd.
“Are you crazy? Online voting is one thing, but doing on-site voting is like a presidential election. It’s a big deal.” His colleague was swiping on his phone, looked up indifferently, and continued chatting with his girlfriend.
In the WeChat chat window, the girl replied: [These are a few bad guys. The police can’t catch them, which is already pathetic. Who could come up with such an idea? Trading four criminals’ lives for an antidote is just losing face!]
[You’re right, honey.] The man typed quickly. [Anyway, it has nothing to do with us. Let’s talk about where you want to go for vacation this weekend…]
As he pressed the send button, some noise seemed to be coming from the front, but it couldn’t attract him to look up again.
A new reply appeared. [My mom has gone crazy. She asked me when she can go downstairs to vote. These middle-aged women in their fifties love to join in the fun.]
[If she really wants to join the fun, you should teach her to vote online.]
Then, an eye-rolling emoji appeared in the chat window, fully expressing the girl’s displeasure. The man playing on his phone smiled in the dark and opened the government’s official website to access the online voting address they had announced.
Outside the park, a completely different set of government vehicles parked.
This time, government office personnel in suits and leather shoes got out of the cars. They wore the national emblem on their chests, each carrying large cardboard boxes as they walked in groups from a distance.
In the dark night, their young faces appeared exceptionally solemn, as if they were about to carry out some tasks that must be completed with strictness. The man who had just registered for online voting inadvertently looked up and saw this scene.
His phone emitted a soft sound, indicating the arrival of a text message with the real-name authentication verification code: 7086, a simple set of four digits.
After entering these four digits and pressing the confirmation button, he would gain the qualification to vote. However, at that moment, in the darkness outside the crowd, he felt his fingers grow heavy, lacking the courage to input the verification code.
The young people in uniform suits opened the tent flaps, shooed away the children, and carried the cardboard boxes inside.
With their movements, the entire area around the tent fell into silence. Everyone stood still, staring blankly as the lights inside the tent suddenly lit up. Then, they realized that the voting was real, and the government wasn’t joking. And precisely because they weren’t joking, it felt even more like a joke.
However, gradually, no one could find it in themselves to laugh.
Chapter 238: The Wise Consider a Thousand Possibilities
Fu Tianyi shuttled back and forth amidst a sea of colors.
Meng Huai and Zhong Chengfeng confronted Shen Mo on the front line, disrupting the cocoon of the enemy. Fu Tianyi had a clear division of labor; he was responsible for leading a large group of survivors who were being carried by the Lonelies.
One after another, the spherical cocoons cracked open, and the people inside were lifted by the Lonelies and carried on their heads, led by Fu Tianyi, to the rescue site. In the imagined Fu family mansion, the rescued individuals were neatly arranged in the courtyard by the Lonelies.
Fu Tianyi ran tirelessly, but the transportation capacity of the Lonely Cats was limited, and he didn’t know how many trips he had to make.
White net, rescue point. White net, rescue point… Fu Tianyi had never used his abilities so intensively before. He was exhausted all over, and every joint of his bones ached. But he couldn’t stop—behind him, the Lonely Cats dragged one humanoid cocoon after another, waving tablecloths as they sprinted. The Lonelies squeaked and screamed; their cognitive pollution shot toward the enemy troops like corrupted rainwater.
At the same time, Dog Thing kept barking in his ear. It trembled and gave him hints about which direction the enemy was most uneasy, guiding him to the right place for a breakthrough.
The army of Elementals surged wave after wave. Despite the repetitive back and forth, the decision-making of routes, casting of abilities, and physical exertion, he still had to keep thinking.
Fu Tianyi wished he could split his brain into four parts. At first, he still had the mental energy to observe the frontline situation. Later on, even his vision became blurred, and he almost collapsed.
But he couldn’t.
He must not break down, he must not make mistakes. Otherwise, the Lonelies would be attacked and the missing people would be swallowed by the Elementals—he was carrying the lives of many on his shoulders. This was even the “easiest” part on the battlefield—he could move among the swarm of Elementals because Meng Huai and Zhong Chengfeng were engaged in battle with the Charon, diverting their main forces.
Too naive.
Fu Tianyi clenched his teeth, tightly grasped the flesh and blood of the Elementals as he cast his abilities frantically.
…He was truly too naive.
Fu Xingchuan and he were the true geniuses of the Fu family among two generations. Twenty-nine years ago, during the Divine Descent, that person was also a young man in his prime. Fu Tianyi had thought that Fu Xingchuan was just born in a good era. It was easy to achieve military merits during chaotic times. As long as there was an opportunity, he wasn’t inferior to his predecessor.
‘Fuck all those opportunities,’ Fu Tianyi shouted in his heart.
At this moment, what family, what pride, what reputation… In Fu Tianyi’s almost collapsing mind, there was only one thing left: He must not stop; even if it was painful, he must not stop.
He would rather this kind of war never happen than have some damn opportunity to stand out.
A giant Elemental pounced towards him. Fu Tianyi skillfully closed his eyes, sealing his perception. Then, a barrage of spells followed, stabilizing the surrounding aura. He opened his eyes—his perception was lost, and his left shoulder was nearly severed.
As the spells were released, the intense pain gradually returned. Fu Tianyi looked at the wound with a stern face and applied a few spells to it. “Keep moving forward!”
Suddenly, the entire space shook.
The Lonelies were startled and immediately prostrated themselves on the ground, while Dog Thing’s barking reached its maximum volume. In the midst of the bizarrely shaped Elementals surrounding them, Fu Tianyi finally turned his head to look.
In the center of the white net, a huge white hemisphere was wildly deforming and struggling, as if something inside was desperately fighting. The entire white net shook violently, and the threads broke, causing the Elementals on it to fall down like rain.
“What’s going on?” Fu Tianyi endured the discomfort and devoted part of his attention to contacting Meiqiu.
[The central structure collapsed. Love is either being born or escaping.] Dr. Cat’s voice exploded in Fu Tianyi’s mind. [Judging by the intensity of the burst of energy, I guess it’s the latter.]
“Understood. How about Meng Huai’s side?”
Dr. Cat: [Follow the plan. Jiao Lian is now in charge of command. Do your job; you can’t interfere anyway.]
Fu Tianyi’s heart became calm. “…Alright.”
He turned his head again, but at this distance, he couldn’t see the frontline situation clearly. However, what he could see was that the giant half-circle rapidly deflated like a leaking balloon.
Whatever was inside had disappeared.
……
There was another person who was also on the edge of the battlefield.
“Listen, stay where you are.” Lu Xiaohe’s voice turned into text, which continuously appeared on Ge Tingting’s phone. “Xiang Jiang and Xiang Hai are severely injured. Love’s condition is weak, Huang Jin is unconscious, and the situation is still unclear.”
“And the ground?” Ge Tingting typed with her head lowered.
“The ground team cannot face Love’s body directly. They are strengthening the perimeter defense under Li Nian’s arrangement. There is no united force outside that you can join. Right now, your own safety is the top priority.”
Ge Tingting slowly clenched her fist. “Huang Jin clearly brought Qi Xin. How could…”
Lu Xiaohe truthfully replied, “Q Xin sustained severe injuries just now. She won’t risk her life for us and most likely abandoned her avatar immediately.”
Ge Tingting’s fingers stopped on the keyboard.
She had nothing to ask, nothing to do. The “#1 Ghost General” Fu Xingchuan understood a corpse servant’s methods, and it was almost like a battle between gods. If she rashly joined the battlefield, she would only drag her side down.
Even if the fate of her colleagues was unknown.
Ge Tingting wiped her eyes and took a deep breath. She decided to calm her emotions and… huh?
Amidst the frantic turbulence, the scenery around her became distorted and blurry. The dark sewer was filled with garbage, so quiet that it made her uncomfortable. Lu Xiaohe’s communication in her ears was intermittent and hoarse, with a signal so weak that it could disappear at any moment. A large amount of static noise flooded the system, and the messages displayed on her phone were incomplete and fragmented.
Yellow Millet rapidly shrank and slid into Ge Tingting’s pocket, with the pocket button being thoughtfully fastened.
“Xiao Ge, no ■■■■ what, don’t ■■■■ struggling…”
“Xiao ■■, ■■ matter ■■■■, ■■ give up ■■ struggling…”
“■■, ■■■■■■■, don’t give up ■■…”
Lu Xiaohe noticed the problem and desperately sent the same message. Ge Tingting watched as those messages gradually became garbled and disappeared.
What’s going on?
The surroundings were a mess, and Ge Tingting quickly picked up small objects that could be used, tightly holding them to her chest. She was just contemplating whether or not to go up and take a look when suddenly everything spun wildly. Ge Tingting rolled several times on the rough stone surface before finally coming to a stop.
The voices in her earpiece completely disappeared.
The sound of the wind, the rustling of leaves, the distant bird calls—everything vanished without a trace. The familiar sense of chaos washed over her again. It felt like the Other side, but it was also not the Other Side.
Could this be the legendary interstitial space?
Maintaining a face-down position, Ge Tingting opened her eyes just a crack and carefully surveyed her surroundings—
In front of her was an endless jumble of fused debris, like a nightmare garbage dump. Huang Jin was lying not far away, motionless. Fu Xingchuan’s bone roc suddenly dissipated, leaving Fu Xingchuan himself with closed eyes and blood all over his face. Six fierce ghosts trailed behind him, their forms flickering unsteadily.
And on the opposite side, Xiang Jiang and Xiang Hai dragged their broken bodies and engaged in a fierce battle with Fu Xingchuan once again.
The only good news was that the ground troops had been pulled away by Professor Li and weren’t involved in this.
Ge Tingting dared not look around, afraid that she might accidentally catch a glimpse of Love’s body. She lay on the ground, pretending to be unconscious, but her breath couldn’t escape her.
She hadn’t seen a trace of Love.
“Haa…” Just as she thought, a sigh sounded by her ear. The voice was soft and beautiful—Sun Qi’an’s voice.
The hairs on the back of Ge Tingting’s neck stood up instantly.
“No need to pretend, little girl,” Love said softly, her tone filled with profound weakness. “I can hear your heartbeat. I know you’re awake. In a place like this, you can speak normally, can’t you?”
Ge Tingting didn’t move.
In her field of vision, there were only a pair of beautiful boots. The boots connected to shapely calves and were stained with blood on the light-colored leggings.
Seeing Ge Tingting’s lack of reaction, Love smiled. She casually dragged out an inflated corpse from the debris and leaned against it like a sofa. Not far away, Fu Xingchuan dragged his mangled body, engaged in a life-and-death struggle with Xiang Jiang and Xiang Hai. The scenes of fighting and resting were eerily close to each other, creating a very strange sight.
“Why didn’t you kill me?”
Five minutes later, Ge Tingting couldn’t hold back any longer and spoke.
“I never intended to kill you from the beginning,” Love said. “Besides, there is a long time to come, and all of you are decent humans, which can give me a bit of sustenance.”
Her voice carried a touch of self-derision.
“…In the end, I still have to follow the path of Sorrow. It’s quite interesting.”
At this moment, a few steps away, one of Fu Xingchuan’s fierce ghosts was torn apart by Xiang Jiang and Xiang Hai. The evil qi splashed, causing Ge Tingting’s skin to ache.
Ge Tingting wasn’t deceived by this seemingly conversational atmosphere. Her stomach acid surged. “What do you mean?”
“Thanks to your two colleagues—aside from the part in this body, the rest of my body was completely consumed by Yin Ren.”
Love looked towards the chaotic space that seemed boundless and spoke with a hint of complaint in her tone.
“But this is one of the possible outcomes, and I had made preparations.”
She lovingly caressed her own arm.
“In a few hundred years, my power might be able to recover a bit. When the time is right, I will attempt to be reborn again… Using a phrase commonly used by you humans, as long as the mountains are green, there will be firewood to burn*.”
*(留得青山在，不愁没柴烧) Idiom referring to as long as one has resources or a foundation to rely on, they will not lack the means to sustain themselves or overcome difficulties.
Ge Tingting’s mind went momentarily blank.
According to Love’s words, Yin Ren won. But Love didn’t disappear; instead, she dragged them into this god-forsaken place… From the beginning, it planned to preserve a portion of its original form through Dr. Sun as a way out.
“They will definitely find you.” Ge Tingting’s throat felt dry.
If Yin Ren devoured Love, he would definitely become stronger, and he would never give up on his companions.
Love seemed to see through her thoughts and added a hint of amusement to her voice. “Have you seen this place? This is the edge of the interstitial space, where there is no order. I deliberately chose the deepest hiding spot. Finding someone here is like searching for a speck of dust in the universe.”
“If they want to find us, it will take them at least a thousand years… The survival strategy of Sorrow seems somewhat useful.”
Love’s voice became even sweeter.
“You can chat with me more. That way, maybe you’ll go insane a bit slower. I really need sustenance…”
So that’s it. Love only wanted “time”—enough to drive humans crazy, the ever-changing time of the world. Ge Tingting stared at the sticky, interconnected fragments and ancient objects on the ground, despair crashing over her. She almost lost consciousness.
She couldn’t give up.
Even if it took a thousand years, perhaps Yin Ren wouldn’t give up, but she was just a fragile mortal. She was only sixteen years old; she couldn’t do it—she couldn’t retain her sanity for such a long time in this chaotic place, nor could she defeat the enemy in front of her.
The fact that even the enemy knew this made their conversation so easy.
She couldn’t give up.
The surrounding chaos was dim and silent, as if she were buried alive seven feet under. Ge Tingting’s eyes felt intensely itchy, but she desperately clenched her teeth to prevent the tears from falling.
She could feel Love’s gaze, a gaze that even held pity, like a person looking down on a desperate ant.
She couldn’t give up.
Ge Tingting tightened her grip on her clothes, and all the random things she had grabbed from the sewer fell out.
Damaged scissors, a metal hairpin, a lighter, unopened mint candies, small oranges, and a baby-sized apple that fell to the ground.
They were of no use.
A few steps away, three more of Fu Xingchuan’s fierce ghosts disappeared into smoke, leaving only two strands of black smoke around him. Without Li Nian’s support and in an unfavorable environment, he was facing an inevitable defeat.
Even though it seemed meaningless, he still stood.
She couldn’t give up… or could she?
Ge Tingting reminisced over her relatively short life. From her parents’ deaths to meeting Feng Qi, from joining Shian to discovering the astonishing identities of her colleagues, and then getting involved in the war between gods. Perhaps for an ordinary person, this would already be a sufficiently tumultuous life.
Huang Jin was in an even worse state. Even if he were to wake up, he would never see his beloved girl again.
If only she had given him a push and encouraged him to confess earlier… No, given the current circumstances, maybe it was right that he hadn’t confessed…
Ge Tingting lowered her head, and her thoughts began to scatter.
At least in the past hundred years, Love couldn’t descend into the world, so things would be stable outside. Ding Lizi had her eyes cured, and even if she started a new life, she would always remember Huang Jin…
Ding Lizi had her eyes cured…
Ge Tingting blinked and looked at the small apple not far away. It was ugly, pockmarked, and covered in dust, with only a faint hint of red showing.
She stared at it intently, and the sourness in her eyes gradually disappeared.
“…” She clenched the apple tightly, muttering softly. Her voice was low, and Love turned her head, only able to catch a rough idea of what she was saying.
It was a nursery rhyme.
“When the red light is on and the green light is burning, every household closes their door… At midnight, when the fruit ripens, be careful what you say with your back to the door..” Ge Tingting clumsily hummed; her pronunciation wasn’t very clear.
Love thought she was mentally confused and didn’t intervene.
“Pray for tranquility, wish for good fortune, and shut your eyes so you can’t see…” Ge Tingting continued to hum softly.
Perhaps Love had made a small mistake.
Whether it was Fu Xingchuan or Huang Jin, it shouldn’t have brought her to the interstitial space. This wasn’t the Other Side; she could keep her belongings here, and this wasn’t the mortal world; she could speak.
As a repayment for finding Zhong Chengshuo, Yin Ren had cured Lu Xiaohe’s mother and healed Ding Lizi’s eyes. He still owed only one wish to her; this was a “contract”.
On the Other Side, Hu Tao could find Yin Ren through a contract. So, could she replicate that here?
Facing an opponent who was almost godlike, this was the only thing she could do, and it was the strongest blow she had.
“…The rooster crows, with footsteps far away, and comes back next year to report the peace.”
Ge Tingting, with a hoarse throat, stumbled through the ancient ballad.
Ge Tingting reached out her blood-stained hand and held the small apple. She closed her eyes tightly but raised her head resolutely, “looking” in Love’s direction.
“We are right here.”
She enunciated her words clearly and made her wish.
“Save us, Great Master.”
At that moment, as the last fierce ghost beside Fu Xingchuan fell, Love turned its gaze in confusion, and Ge Tingting burst into an almost imperceptible smile.
In the next instant, a sunset glow ignited in the dark chaos.
The author has something to say:
Friend: Love is so pitiful, like confidently picking up a vegetable and accidentally grabbing a piece of ginger.
Ge Tingting—weak and helpless but capable of shaking things up on the spot.
Kinky Thoughts:
The title of this chapter is an idiom referring to someone who is intelligent and wise takes great care and forethought in their actions, considering numerous possibilities and potential outcomes before making decisions.
Chen Qianfan was roughly sixty years old. It was unknown whether he had drunk some immortal wine or had figured out some magical technique at the Mishan Sect, but his hair was all white, yet his appearance didn’t show signs of aging. He was also very strong and didn’t have the typical leanness associated with old age.
Monk Juehui had a stern face, while Abbot Juefei had a smiling face, forming a contrasting pair. The former “Monk Jueguo” had an expressionless face, complementing the previous two, forming a perfect set.
However, Chen Qianfan’s facial features were more remarkable than those of Juefei and Juehui. He was also dressed in the elegant attire of the Mishan Sect, with a blue and white outfit that sets him apart from worldly affairs. However, when combined with Chen Qianfan’s overly robust physique, it failed to evoke any sense of immortalness.
Chen Qianfan placed the basket filled with monster corpses on the doorstep and brushed off the snow from the soles of his shoes.
“Xiao Chun, is someone here?” His tone was indifferent, devoid of emotion.
Xiao Chun, who was known as Granny Wei, immediately stood up with joy. “Yes, we haven’t had visitors for five or six years… Oh, Master, you are skilled in divination, so you must have known already.”
“Yes, Juefei called here. Remove your masks; let me see your faces.”
Inside the room, only Shi Jingzhi and Shi Zhongyu showed their faces, while the remaining three also removed their masks. Chen Qianfan’s gaze swept across everyone’s faces, but he didn’t linger on the appearance of Shi Jingzhi and Yin Ci.
“…Hmm, it will do.”
After scanning each person’s face, Chen Qianfan spoke vaguely while taking off the heavy record book hanging from his chest. Finally, he reached for a small cloth bag at his waist and threw it beside the corpse basket, causing a few pale red petals to fall out.
In this manner, he unloaded the burden from his body, then walked to the table without any pretense and slapped the record book onto it.
Shi Jingzhi took the opportunity to glance at it. The record book had a demon skin cover and yellowed pages with frayed edges, indicating its age.
“Speak, what is it?”
After settling down, Chen Qianfan drank nearly half a bowl of soup in one breath and asked straightforwardly.
All the polite words that Shi Jingzhi had prepared vanished.
Chen Qianfan clearly had no intention of adopting a “hospitable” attitude and got straight to the point, which felt a bit distant. They had been guided here by Juefei, but this person hadn’t asked about Juefei’s recent situation.
Although they didn’t have to lie to his face, which made Shi Jingzhi breathed a sigh of relief, but Chen Qianfan’s attitude was cold and unapproachable.
Seeing no one speaking, Chen Qianfan rolled his eyes like a dead fish. “Are you all mute? Did you come all this way just to have a meal at my house?”
…It was the familiar enigmatic eccentricity of the Jianchen Temple. Shi Jingzhi relaxed slightly.
He also got straight to the point. “A ban was placed on this junior’s memories during the first three years by someone. Recently, the ban has been triggered, and I hope Senior can help resolve it. The reward can be negotiated, and I will do my best.”
“Oh, I thought it was a big deal.” Chen Qianfan waved his hand dismissively. “It’s just a trivial problem. After the meal, I’ll take a look. And you, yes, you, the little girl—aren’t you traveling with them?”
Shi Zhongyu, who didn’t expect to be called out so quickly, stood up cautiously and bowed.
“I am Shi Zhongyu from the Taiheng Sect. I have come here to pay my respects…”
“Don’t bother me with useless nonsense. I’m not interested in your name.” Chen Qianfan, with his poker face, sounded impatient. “What’s the matter? Just tell me.”
“Our sect leader is critically ill, and there is no cure.” Shi Zhongyu didn’t dare to say more than necessary.
“Do you have the pulse jade with you?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Well, then your matter is even more trivial. Wait in line behind that boy, and we’ll discuss it after the meal.” Chen Qianfan gulped down the soup and let out a satisfied belch. “I’m done eating; you can do as you please. Xiao Chun, I’ve brought back the demon flowers for you to deal with.”
Granny Wei happily replied, “Ah, would you like more soup?”
Chen Qianfan said, “Sure, bring another bowl.”
Yin Ci took a sip of the unsalted soup and furrowed his brows slightly.
This Chen Qianfan was quite interesting.
Shi Jingzhi’s ban was complex, and even if Yin Ci still had his inner force, he didn’t dare to rashly break it. No matter how he looked at it, this wasn’t a “trivial problem”. Chen Qianfan didn’t seem like a braggart either, so there might be another ingenious solution.
Upon hearing that there was a solution, Shi Jingzhi and Shi Zhongyu ate quickly, wishing they could stuff the bowls into their mouths.
After the meal, Shi Zhongyu barely had time to wipe her mouth before she handed over the pulse jade with both hands.
The pulse jade was warm and soft, capable of recording a patient’s pulse for about seven days. It was considered an auxiliary tool for remote diagnosis and treatment, but it was expensive enough to leave people speechless. Only the Taiheng Sect could afford such extravagance.
Chen Qianfan pressed the pulse jade for a while.
“Are you trying to deceive me? This pulse pattern indicates a common deficiency with fever. Does the patient have any other symptoms?”
She thought that the Mishan Sect would discover something unusual, but with one sentence, Shi Zhongyu’s hopeful anticipation was dampened.
“It’s just a persistent high fever, nothing else. After several days of high fever, the Sect Master showed signs of Broken Horse—”
Chen Qianfan raised an eyebrow. “Signs of Broken Horse?”
Shi Zhongyu suddenly felt like she misspoke. “’Broken Horse’ is an internal term in our sect. It means that the elderly person is critically ill and difficult to save. I…”
Chen Qianfan let out a grunt, interrupting Shi Zhongyu directly, his tone showing a bit more interest. “People in the Central Plains have also noticed, not bad. ‘Broken Horse’, ‘Broken Horse’. It’s quite an apt description. I used to call it ‘Heaven’s Displeasure’, meaning something similar. In the end, whether it’s Broken Horse or Heaven’s Displeasure, the result is the same—there is no hope left.”
Chen Qianfan stroked his medium-length beard and made a clicking sound with his mouth.
“And you, with your fox-like eyes and the flag of a wandering healer, you must have treated some illnesses and should have noticed something, right?”
When he said this, Chen Qianfan didn’t even glance at him. It took a moment for Shi Jingzhi to realize that Chen Qianfan was beckoning to him. “I have only seen a few cases, but I did sense something.”
“Severe injuries and serious illnesses seem to have a certain threshold. Before reaching it, treatment is more effective. Once crossed, it’s like trying to stop water with bare hands—medicine becomes useless… But isn’t this a normal situation?”
Yin Ci also had a similar question.
It was natural that mild conditions were easier to treat while severe illnesses were more difficult. It was just the elegance of the Taiheng Sect to have coined specific terms for them.
Chen Qianfan seemed to sense their doubts. “I used to think this was normal too. However, this place is at the intersection of three kingdoms, and occasionally, some foreigners come seeking help—those people from Luojiu and Great Yun are similar. They also have this invisible and intangible ‘threshold’. But interestingly, the Qituo people don’t have it.”
Su Si couldn’t help but interject. “Perhaps it’s because foreigners have different constitutions.”
Chen Qianfan gave Su Si a disdainful look. “Do you think I wouldn’t have thought of such a basic reason? If we must compare, the constitutions of the Qituo people and the Great Yun people are more similar. The Luojiu people, regardless of gender, are all nine feet* tall, and their lifestyles are nothing like the Great Yun people, yet they share this similarity?”
*[Chi] (尺) A Chinese foot, so 9 Chinese feet is which is about 9.81 normal feet.
Su Si felt the piercing gaze as if Chen Qianfan had seen through him to the core, and he couldn’t help but keep quiet.
Chen Qianfan withdrew his gaze. “I call it ‘Heaven’s Displeasure’ because its characteristics are quite interesting. Anyone who triggers ‘Heaven’s Displeasure’ is destined to become a burden.”
“Compare them with the Qituo people who don’t have ‘Heaven’s Displeasure’. If both have a double leg fracture, the Great Yun people will recover in just half a month, while the Qituo people will take two to three months. But if both legs are bitten off by tigers and wolves, even if treated in time, the Great Yun person will die, while the Qiduo people have a chance to survive.”
“The older and weaker a person is, the more likely they are to trigger ‘Heaven’s Displeasure’. It’s not surprising that you think it’s the elderly who experience Broken Horse. Little girl, your Sect Master… Let me think, he’s around seventy, his meridians are already damaged, and he has been burned into a useless person, right?”
Shi Zhongyu obediently replied, “Yes.”
Immediately, she hesitated for a moment, but then said, “My family has been in the spice business with the people of Western Ridge for a long time, and the people of Western Ridge have never experienced a situation like the Great Yun people. There was a person from the Western Ridge who had a bone injury in our shop, and it took a hundred days to heal… At that time, I thought it was a coincidence, but it still felt strange.”
So that’s why she was particularly concerned about the “sign of Broken Horse”?
Yin Ci lowered his gaze.
The “signs of Broken Horse” discovered by the Taiheng Sect were the same as Chen Qianfan’s “Heaven’s Displeasure”.
The “Immortal Potential” of the Yuanxian Village people and the “Cuckoo Calamity” passed down among the people were the “Monster Material” that Yin Ci named himself.
They seemed to vaguely grasp the edges of some abnormal thing, but because the information was sporadic, they couldn’t reach a unified understanding.
“This ‘Heaven’s Displeasure’ is strange,” Yan Qing suddenly muttered.
Usually, it was only Su Si who couldn’t control his mouth, so it was rare for Yan Qing to get involved in these peculiar matters. Yin Ci turned his gaze and didn’t miss this anomaly. “What’s strange about it?”
Throughout the journey, Yan Qing had developed a sense of awe towards Yin Ci that he couldn’t put into words. Seeing Yin Ci looking over, he quickly sat up straight on the bench.
“It’s nothing major. I just saw Lord Bai and had some random thoughts. In the past, when I helped people raise livestock, their habits were the same.”
The more Yan Qing spoke, the less confident he became.
“For minor injuries and illnesses in livestock, you should treat them quickly. But if the treatment is troublesome or the injury is severe, you should quickly slaughter them for food; otherwise, it would just waste feed.”
This association could be described as either simple or cruel, and Su Si, who was next to Yan Qing, was also stunned for a moment. “San Zi, you… really dare to think.”
Yan Qing quickly explained, “The real ‘Heaven’s Displeasure’ definitely isn’t like that. We all experience life, aging, sickness, and death. I haven’t heard of anyone being killed and eaten. I just said it casually.”
Chen Qianfan’s eyes lit up, and he picked up the old record book, flipping through it quickly. After writing for a whole incense stick’s worth of time, he realized that he had neglected the main matter.
“If ‘Heaven’s Displeasure’ has been triggered, then it’s fine. You’ll accompany me outside for a couple of days to gather some materials, and I’ll make a disaster warding talisman for you.”
Chen Qianfan calmly put down the notebook, yawned, and appeared as if nothing had happened.
“A disaster warding talisman?”
“You’ll redirect your Sect Master’s illness onto yourself and ward off the disaster for him. You’re still young and won’t easily trigger ‘Heaven’s Displeasure’. If your Sect Master’s illness suddenly becomes mild, you can deceive the heavens and temporarily relieve the state of ‘Heaven’s Displeasure’. Take this opportunity to quickly investigate your Sect Master’s problem. Won’t that solve it?”
Shi Zhongyu stood still in her original spot. “Senior, aren’t you going to prescribe medicine?”
Chen Qianfan had no expression on his face. “Prescribe medicine? Given the patient’s condition, it doesn’t seem like some unheard-of, strange illness. His symptoms are too few. It’s more like someone has deliberately weakened his body and deliberately triggered ‘Heaven’s Displeasure’ to make his death appear more natural.”
“I can at most make him regain consciousness and provide some clues. But let me tell you this, if you ward off the disaster for him for too long, you will also become a useless person. You…”
“That’s fine.” Shi Zhongyu interrupted Chen Qianfan for the first time. “To be able to ward off a disaster for the Sect Master with my own life is enough.”
Chen Qianfan looked at her seriously for the first time. “Alright, next.”
Shi Jingzhi silently stepped forward.
Yin Ci also focused his attention and temporarily set aside his thoughts on “Heaven’s Displeasure” and “Demon Material”, preparing to observe how Chen Qianfan would resolve the situation.
Unfortunately, the more he watched, the more he felt that this person was a bit unreliable.
Chen Qianfan didn’t prepare a ritual room or burn incense. Instead, he casually dragged over a log and had Shi Jingzhi sit in a spacious area. He didn’t bring out any extraordinary magic weapons either; he just rummaged through the cluttered pile of miscellaneous items in the corner and found a small, dark bronze cymbal.
With a serious face and rolled-up sleeves, he fiercely struck the cymbal beside Shi Jingzhi’s head, buzzing and clanging, resembling a shamanistic ritual dance performed in the countryside.
As Shi Jingzhi sat there, he exuded an air of funeral solemnity. He looked bewildered but didn’t dare to ask anything, so he sat there stiffly like a meditating monk.
Unexpectedly, after buzzing and clanging for half an incense stick’s worth of time, a complete formation appeared behind Shi Jingzhi’s head. It emitted a brilliant golden light and had extremely intricate patterns. Against the backdrop of Shi Jingzhi’s head, it looked like an evil god’s divine radiance.
Chen Qianfan: “Oh, this… can be treated too. But it’s up to you, kid.”
“Up to me?”
“If you only want to get rid of the suffering caused by the ban, it can be done with a cup of tea. I will remove the portion of your memory that triggered the ban, and the ban will completely fade away. Problem solved—I’m quite skilled at removing memories.”
Chen Qianfan clapped his hands.
“But if you want to break the ban, that’s a different matter.”
Shi Jingzhi licked his dry lips. “Please explain.”
“The level of the cultivator who placed the ban is higher than that of the elders in my sect. I’m not specifically trained in breaking formations, so how could I easily break such a complex thing?”
“If you insist on breaking it, the chance of life or death is fifty-fifty.”
“Choose, kid.”
The author has something to say:
Yan Qing: A person with intermittent episodes of Yan Budu’s bloodline (…
Master Chen’s violent breakthrough method √
Yin Ci: Alright, let’s see the talented person’s precise surgical skills to remove the lesions.
Chen Qianfan: (Takes out a shovel) Come, let me dig into your skull.
The next morning, outside the Qu Clan’s courtyard.
Several tall and majestic Arrow Horses were snorting, continuously stomping the ground without a moment’s pause. Steam rose from their skin, creating a hot mist in the air.
These Arrow Horses were carefully nurtured horse demons provided by various sects. They were twice the size of ordinary horses and had astonishing endurance. When they ran, their long manes seemed to carry fire, making them several times faster than the wind itself. They also left no trace as they galloped, moving like a gust of wind.
The Arrow Horses of the Taiheng Sect were particularly robust, without a single strand of stray hair.
Unfortunately, there was no sign of the horse-drawn carriage with the soft cushions and small stove that Sect Master Shi had dreamed of, let alone any snacks for the journey.
Hovering behind the horses were four coffin-like artifacts. Shaped like shuttles, they were firmly fixed to the horses’ bodies, with each one perfectly accommodating a person.
The smile on Sect Master Shi’s face gradually disappeared, and his complexion turned pale. He asked, “Miss Shi, what is this?”
Shi Zhongyu: “These are ‘protective shuttles’. Our sect’s Arrow Horses are incredibly fast, and the carriage would be cumbersome. The wind on the road is like a turbulent stream, and without proper protection, it is easy to suffocate. I can use our sect’s treasures for self-defense, so I can only inconvenience everyone to lie down for a while.”
Shi Jingzhi: “……”
The good news was that the horses were fast. The bad news was that they would become cocooned behind the horses’ rear ends. They wouldn’t even get to enjoy the scenic view, let alone see the horses’ tails.
Seeing Shi Jingzhi’s stiff expression, Shi Zhongyu added, “Our sect’s Arrow Horses never rest. I will personally ride and control them. There’s no need to worry; I’ll support them with my inner force. We’ll reach the northern lands in just a day and a half.”
Yin Ci, observing the four airtight protective shuttles, furrowed his brows. The shuttles had ventilation mechanisms, so they wouldn’t suffocate, but…
The shuttles made by the Taiheng Sect were truly airtight, perhaps due to limited visibility, as the craftsmen didn’t leave even a small translucent gap.
Yin Ci’s eyelid twitched, but he remained silent.
After a moment, he turned around and said, “In that case, I’ll make some sweet soup. It’ll be easier to consume on the journey.”
Watching Yin Ci’s back, Shi Jingzhi’s astonishment and helplessness disappeared without a trace. He quickly looked at Shi Zhongyu and swiftly regained his usual diplomatic demeanor. “A day and a half? That’s excellent. Thank you, Miss Shi.”
He pondered for a moment, and then added, “I think these protective shuttles are quite heavy. They might slow down the Arrow Horses’ speed. Our sect doesn’t have much luggage, so four shuttles is excessive. Three should be enough.”
Shi Zhongyu was taken aback. “But…”
The shuttles had reserved space for personal belongings, and two people could fit in them comfortably. However, the space was limited, and few people would willingly get so intimately close to each other.
“Three will be enough.” Shi Jingzhi smiled. “To be honest, I have some ailments that require others’ care. I can’t manage alone for such a long time.”
After speaking, he even intentionally spat out a small mouthful of blood.
Yan Qing and Su Si: “…”
The Sect Master’s skill at speaking lies with a straight face was truly unparalleled. If they didn’t know the truth, they would have believed it to be true.
Unfortunately, the two young individuals were too thin-skinned and couldn’t stick to people as closely as the Sect Master did. Moreover, to let the horse drag him along, Yan Qing had to hold the Sword of Compassion throughout the journey. If Su Si were really close to him, they would likely finish the journey in a day and a half, with Su Si’s life hanging by a thread due to the beating given by the Sword of Compassion.
No, it was absolutely not possible.
The two of them swiftly slipped into their respective protective shuttles, afraid that Sect Master Shi would prioritize efficiency and reduce the weight by another shuttle.
When Yin Ci returned after making the sweet soup, he noticed that the four shuttles had become three. A flicker of surprise crossed his face, but he didn’t say anything. He distributed the sweet soup and quietly entered his own protective shuttle.
After closing the shuttle, a faint sound of breaking through the air came from outside. As they set off, as Yin Ci had expected, a thick darkness crowded in from all sides.
Shi Jingzhi and Yin Ci lay back to back, which gently rose and fell with their breaths. Their long hair intertwined, indistinguishable, and warmed by the temperature of their backs.
The presence of the other person was so palpable that the darkness in front of them seemed to thin out slightly.
Shi Jingzhi didn’t explain why he reduced the number of shuttles. He simply relaxed his body and let out even, relaxed breaths.
To be honest, if Shi Jingzhi hadn’t voluntarily reduced the number of shuttles, Yin Ci wouldn’t have spoken up. He had long forgotten the taste of showing weakness, and now that he was mentally stable again, it wouldn’t be difficult for him to grit his teeth and endure.
Yin Ci had expected this to be a torture lasting a day and a half. Little did he know that Shi Jingzhi would lie down beside him, turning the torture into a rest during the journey.
Indeed, the inner demon of the Buddha Heart Formation had made him blind, and every morning, he would confirm whether Shi Jingzhi was by his side. He had already revealed many subtle flaws, so it wasn’t surprising to be discovered as someone afraid of the dark.
With his eyes half-closed, Yin Ci sighed for the hundredth time, feeling fortunate for his foolish cheap master.
If Shi Jingzhi were a little more foolish, he would be even easier to deal with. Little did he know that this person was a genius at sticking close to others’ hearts. Just by pointing out one aspect of “human nature”, he quickly grasped how to be more tactful and get along with people.
The feeling of oppression transformed into a soothing warmth, but the intensity remained unchanged.
Yin Ci couldn’t control or manipulate it. Even if he mustered the aura of three hundred years, he couldn’t suppress Shi Jingzhi’s vibrant and lively aura.
Yin Ci couldn’t help but suspect that this guy was born to counter him. He had long trained his heart to be as hard as iron, with only a small crevice of softness, which this person took advantage of to the fullest, making him show a bit of human warmth.
If Yin Ci was like this, let alone other ordinary mortals with normal lifespans.
Shi Jingzhi had always been skilled at observing people, and now he was even more at ease. If he wanted to, given enough time, he could almost make anyone like him.
At this thought, a notion struck like an ice pick, shattering Yin Ci’s mind full of tenderness.
…Based on Shi Jingzhi’s previous behavior, he didn’t understand what it meant to truly get along with others. To achieve that, there couldn’t be anyone staying around Shi Jingzhi for too long.
Not to mention blood relatives, even servants and mentors couldn’t stay for too long. Shi Jingzhi was like a stone thrown into a torrent, unable to cling to the light dust called attachment.
Someone capable of doing such things must have known from the beginning what they needed to guard against and what Shi Jingzhi was. Since they took precautions down to the level of a ban on a three-year-old child, why would they spare Shi Jingzhi’s life? And why let him roam freely now?
Yin Ci didn’t believe it was solely out of “kindness”.
It was apparent that Shi Jingzhi had a certain understanding of his background and had concerns. He didn’t intrude based on their past but allowed Yin Ci to personally choose to “go to him”.
Unfortunately, his cheap master thought he had come up with a tricky question, but the answer he could provide was only one.
He hoped this journey to break the ban would allow him to firmly grasp the fox’s tail of this person.
Yin Ci turned over and moved closer. Shi Jingzhi’s body temperature was already high, and his nose touched the black hair of the other person. He squinted his eyes and enjoyed the warmth.
Shi Jingzhi noticed Yin Ci’s slight movement and smiled. “So, A’Ci is afraid of the cold.”
Yin Ci admitted frankly, “Yes.”
He took advantage of the situation and got even closer. Darkness enveloped his eyes, blending the past and the present into one. Yin Ci almost reached out his arms to embrace the source of warmth in front of him, but when he touched the waist of an adult man, he retracted his hand.
When the Little Mute was still small, Yin Ci could easily hold him tight. The Little Mute loved to sleep on his chest, drooling and wrinkling Yin Ci’s fine clothes.
That child also had a high body temperature. Yin Ci protected him in his arms, as if holding a soft sun. That warmth was comforting, so Yin Ci silently allowed the brat to mess up his clothes.
Now, Shi Jingzhi was bigger than him. Fortunately, this person hadn’t grown into a burly man with a tiger’s back and bear’s waist*. Yin Ci could still wrap his arms around his waist.
*Metaphor for someone who’s big and stout.
Unfortunately, the Little Mute from years ago had grown into an adult. The two of them squeezing into this narrow space made their actions seem frivolous.
Yin Ci retracted his arms and changed the topic. “Speaking of ‘fear’, I’ve wanted to ask for a long time. Why is Shizun so afraid of ghosts?”
In his impression, both the Little Mute and Shi Jingzhi had always been brave. Even when facing gods and buddhas, they had an air of fearlessness, as if saying, “I’m not afraid of anything. What can you do to me?”
But his cheap master looked down on everything, was versatile in his interactions, yet he was afraid of ghosts. It really puzzled Yin Ci.
Shi Jingzhi stiffened for a moment.
“It’s not that I’m very afraid.”
He expressed himself quite seriously.
“When encountering unprecedented abnormal things, it’s not a big deal to be a little scared. As a master, I cherish my life, so I should pay more attention to these, um, details.”
Yin Ci stared at the back of Shi Jingzhi’s head with a smile.
“And I always feel like I should be afraid.” Shi Jingzhi muttered. “It’s a bit strange when you put it that way… It shouldn’t be the case…”
The relaxed tone in his voice suddenly disappeared, causing Yin Ci’s heart to skip a beat—
Shi Jingzhi’s steady breathing suddenly became rapid, and his body trembled slightly.
“Shizun?”
“Uh.” Shi Jingzhi weakly replied, “It’s nothing. I’ll just… sleep for a while.”
Yin Ci mercilessly grabbed his wrist. As expected, Shi Jingzhi’s heartbeat was chaotic, and he had a thin layer of sweat on his body. It didn’t look like his usual illness, but more like the ban was acting up.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s just a headache. It won’t endanger my life, I know it,” Shi Jingzhi said weakly. “Everything will be fine once we arrive at Mishan Sect. A’Ci, let’s just sleep and conserve our energy.”
They were lying down peacefully, so why did it suddenly act up?
However, Shi Jingzhi clearly didn’t want to talk about it, so Yin Ci had no choice but to move his body and embrace him. He covered the back of Shi Jingzhi’s cold neck with his palm and massaged the acupoints on his head with his other hand.
Shi Jingzhi let out a painful yet relieved breath and buried his face in Yin Ci’s chest.
The pain of the ban was like tearing open an unhealed wound. Shi Jingzhi felt as if thousands of needles were randomly poking his brain, making it almost cease functioning.
Abbot Juefei was truly worthy of being a great master, so he immediately advised him to go to the Mishan Sect. Back then, he had insisted on finding the Shirou, not knowing how much suffering he would endure.
Ever since the Greed Butterflies activated the ban, the attacks had become unpredictable. A single word, a faint scent, and the pain would follow without him realizing their connection to the past.
But it was a human flaw that the more one knew they shouldn’t think about something, the more unstoppable the thoughts became.
Yin Ci’s fingers were warm and powerful, and he accurately massaged the acupoints. Shi Jingzhi found a moment of relief and buried his nose in the fabric of Yin Ci’s clothes, taking a careful sniff.
Yin Ci’s scent was somewhat astringent, but it didn’t resemble medicine. He smelled like soil from a grave, soaked in blood for too long, blending into a sinister fragrance that instinctively made one want to stay away.
However, Shi Jingzhi found that this scent brought him an extreme sense of peace, even causing his eyes to feel a bit sour.
His head throbbed even more.
On one hand, there was the intense pain in his head, and on the other hand, there was the usual throbbing in his meridians. The two sensations overlapped, finally giving him the appearance of a dying person. Shi Jingzhi tightly closed his eyes and struggled to gather the fragmented memories in his chaotic mind.
His pain completely alarmed Yin Ci, who firmly held him without hesitation. “Clear your mind, focus! Don’t recall anymore.”
But he wanted to remember.
Although it was painful, Shi Jingzhi always felt as if his fingertips were already touching something. He had long grown accustomed to pain, and he didn’t want it to stop.
Perhaps this could be considered self-harm, but without any wounds, even if Yin Ci became angry because of it, he wouldn’t be too furious. Shi Jingzhi hazily thought this while continuing to sniff Yin Ci’s scent trying to dig deeper into his memories.
Why was he so afraid of ghosts?
In the hazy state, the fiery red maple forest appeared once again. Just as Shi Jingzhi was about to delve deeper, he was startled by a touch on his waist.
Yin Ci freed up one hand and held onto his waist tightly.
The fleeting phantom of those memories dispersed, and the headache lessened slightly. Shi Jingzhi felt Yin Ci’s hand holding his, unsure of what expression to show.
They had embraced each other before, but every embrace had a reason.
Protection, or putting on a show, or when the situation was critical, seeking the comfort of skin-to-skin contact.
But what about now?
Now, neither of them needed physical protection, nor did they need to put on a show. There was no imminent danger. Yin Ci’s breathing became slightly faster, clearly indicating his anger. The hand that held him was tight, and Shi Jingzhi didn’t dare use his inner force to break free.
Having another person pressed against him was indeed warm, Shi Jingzhi thought hazily.
Not only was he unable to concentrate, but an unfamiliar emotion made his hair stand on end and his neck tingle.
“Now behave yourself. When we arrive at the Mishan Sect, think whatever you want,” Yin Ci said in a deep voice. “What? Do you think I can’t tell the severity of your headache? Are you going to keep getting caught up in trivial matters?”
“I won’t, I won’t. I won’t do it next time.” The residual pain in his head made Shi Jingzhi grumble in response.
Who knew what this close warmth had touched, but the ban kicked up a storm in his mind. Before Shi Jingzhi could close his mouth, he let out a loud yell.
Yin Ci: “…”
Shi Jingzhi: “…” He felt wronged—truly wronged.
Yin Ci let out a cold laugh and released his hand that was wrapped around Shi Jingzhi’s waist. He disregarded any master-disciple etiquette and propped himself up on his elbows, half pressing against Shi Jingzhi’s body. A cold aura emanated from him, flowing downward. “Shizun, you’re quick to dare the ‘next time’.”
His long hair cascaded like flowing water, forming a small pile on Shi Jingzhi’s chest. The smooth strands of hair brushed through the air, intensifying Yin Ci’s chilly scent.
The ban stirred again, and for a moment, Shi Jingzhi couldn’t tell if this person intended to save him or provoke him.
There were advantages too—being in the darkness heightened his sense of touch, making the weight and breath of the person even more distinct. Shi Jingzhi had never been so intimately close to another person, and half of his mind was rusted, lacking the strength to activate the ban.
“I’ll think about it. Since words mean nothing to you, what would be a suitable punishment?”
Yin Ci was very close, and his voice was low, as if pressing on Shi Jingzhi’s acupoint with his voice.
Shi Jingzhi held his breath and concentrated like a confused and bewildered plank of wood. This time, his disciple’s momentum was overwhelming, and he had an intuition that it wouldn’t be as simple as “no specially made breakfast”. He anxiously waited for a while, but instead of a continuation, he was met with trembling from Yin Ci.
…This person was trying to hold back laughter.
“A’Ci, are you teasing me?” Shi Jingzhi was still a bit dazed.
“At the very least, Shizun is completely distracted now.”
Shi Jingzhi felt annoyed, but he had to admit that this person’s methods were effective, and he truly had nothing to say.
“Let’s sleep.” Yin Ci moved away from him and resumed the position of embracing Shi Jingzhi.
This time, they were face to face, and the ban didn’t act up again. Shi Jingzhi, taking comfort in this inexplicable sense of peace, slowly closed his eyes.
After an unknown period of time, the protective shuttle suddenly came to an abrupt stop.
Yin Ci held him tightly in his arms, ensuring his head and neck weren’t impacted. The shuttle opened, and daylight spilled in, accompanied by a chilling breeze mixed with snowflakes, causing Shi Jingzhi to shudder.
The cold wind blew away the fleeting thoughts, and the two of them stepped out of the shuttle and onto the soft snow.
While the Central Plains had a hint of spring, the Northern Region was still filled with endless cold winds. The Arrow Horses grumbled; their breath creating steaming pits in the snow. The ground was covered with a thick layer of snow, reminiscent of the desolate mountains from over a month ago.
The sky was covered in dense clouds, and fine snowflakes floated down. In the distance, the mountains stretched endlessly, and all was silent.
“The Mishan Sect has set up a demon-quelling formation nearby, so the Arrow Horses are reluctant to move forward.”
Shi Zhongyu draped a thick cloak around herself. After a day and a night, despite the protection of her magical treasure, her nose and ears were still red from the cold wind, and a hint of exhaustion could be seen in her eyes.
“Once we cross that small mountain, it will be entirely the Mishan Sect’s territory facing us.”
Yan Qing curiously asked, “Entirely? I’ve seen the map, and it seems almost the size of a small country over there.”
Shi Zhongyu’s attitude toward Yan Qing remained good. “That’s correct. This is the northernmost part of Great Yun. To the west is the kingdom of Qituo, and to the east is Luojiu. Divided by the mountains, there used to be a small country called Milan.”
Shi Jingzhi continued the explanation, “Over two hundred years ago, there was internal turmoil in Milan. Great Yun took the opportunity to conquer it. The Queen of Milan was skilled in magic, and her supporters were obsessed with formations and spells. After Milan’s downfall, these people took refuge in their homeland, which eventually became the embryonic form of the Mishan Sect.”
As his attention shifted, the headache quietly disappeared, and he felt refreshed.
Su Si held the trembling Lord Bai tightly. “Shouldn’t the Mishan Sect hold a grudge against Great Yun? Why would they still have dealings with the martial world of the Central Plains?”
“The last Queen of Milan was originally from Great Yun.”
Shi Zhongyu’s expression became somewhat complicated.
“She was originally the princess of the Yun Dynasty and was married off to Milan in her sixteenth year. After ten years of bloodshed and chaos, she climbed to the pinnacle of power. She was a woman who could topple nations, with extraordinary wit and calculations… but she was also cruel and ruthless.”
“She brought the entire nation of Milan to its peak and then pushed it down from the heights, causing the entire country to fall into turmoil. The emperor at the time seized this opportunity and conquered Milan in one fell swoop. The Queen of Milan leaped off a glacier and died at the age of twenty-seven.”
Yin Ci had indeed heard about this incident. At that time, Milan was already in a state of turmoil, and even if the Yun Dynasty hadn’t intervened, Qituo and Luojiu wouldn’t have let go of such a juicy piece of meat.
The royal family of Milan at that time had been completely wiped out by Queen Xu Luo, and their bloodline had been severed. The people had also been tossed around to the point where they were barely clinging to life, becoming scattered and unable to produce strong animosity.
The last glorious moments of Milan could only be glimpsed through the magic of the Mishan Sect.
“Enough, I’ll teach these two little ones a lesson when I get back. But current matters are more urgent.”
Shi Jingzhi timely returned to the topic and unfolded the letter from Abbot Juefei.
“After crossing this mountain, if we continue for half a day, we’ll arrive at Chen Qianfan’s place, where Senior Chen resides.”
Shi Zhongyu pursed her lips and exhaled a big breath of white vapor.
“You all go ahead first, and I’ll follow half a day later. Consider it as if I’m trailing behind you, and you can pretend not to know.”
She didn’t move, her expression somewhat bitter.
Shi Jingzhi raised an eyebrow in surprise. He had this feeling back when they were at the Qu Clan’s residence—despite their cooperation, Shi Zhongyu always kept a certain distance from them.
Even when she noticed the addition of two “new faces” in the Kushan Sect, she didn’t show any interest or inquire about it.
She had been helpful and had also sold them favors. If this were in the past, Shi Jingzhi would have avoided getting involved in the troubles of Taiheng. However, the timing of Taiheng’s matter was suspicious, and coupled with Shi Zhongyu’s unwillingness to abandon a dying person, he appreciated her empathy.
Shi Jingzhi couldn’t help but stop in his tracks. He was about to ponder further when Yin Ci gently pushed him forward.
Receiving support, Shi Jingzhi’s wavering disappeared instantly. “Time waits for no one, and the situation of Sect Master Qi is critical. Even half a day is precious. Miss Shi, if you have any difficulties, you may as well speak up and let us hear it.”
Shi Zhongyu’s complexion became complicated, indicating her hesitation. “It’s nothing. My request is somewhat unreasonable, and I’m afraid it may offend the members of the Mishan Sect. We all came with our own purposes, and I don’t want to involve Sect Master Shi.”
Shi Jingzhi didn’t back down. “I have long heard of Taiheng’s benevolence and righteousness. Yet, this time, you have been obstructing us at every turn. If it’s just to save some gold and silver, it’s truly disappointing. Now you say it may clash with the Mishan Sect… Miss Shi, what’s the story behind Master Qi Xundao’s illness?”
Shi Zhongyu embraced her Green Maiden Sword tightly, as if only that cold, lifeless object could give her some peace of mind.
She stood there quietly for a while, but Shi Jingzhi’s persistence didn’t waver. She finally sighed and spoke again.
“A few days after we retrieved the treasure map, Sect Master Qi suddenly had a high fever and fell into a deep sleep. Our sect has many renowned doctors, but the symptoms were too few for anyone to make sense of. With the turmoil in the martial world, the news of the sect leader’s serious illness would undoubtedly have a significant impact, so our sect kept the information hidden.”
“Despite what Duanyun said, at the beginning, everyone put in their best efforts. But the sect leader’s condition deteriorated rapidly, displaying signs of being at death’s door. After a few days, we could only sustain him with herbal medicine. At first, for ten days, no one had any objections. But after half a month…”
Shi Zhongyu wore a bitter expression, hesitating to speak, and eventually changed the topic.
“Taiheng is currently facing numerous troubles, and Sect Master Qi’s meridians have already deteriorated, making it impossible to return to the past. Even if he were to recover from this illness, he wouldn’t be able to continue as the sect leader of Taiheng.”
Shi Jingzhi understood.
Taiheng’s money didn’t come from thin air. Aside from the government’s support, they also had fertile fields, flourishing forests, shops, and escorts. These livelihoods required financial support, and it wouldn’t be easy to expend such resources for just one person.
At present, Sect Master Qi was either being sustained by medicinal soup, slowly dying in a coma, or being forcibly saved as a disabled person for a few more years. In either case, it would require Taiheng to invest significant manpower, resources, and wealth.
There were no filial sons in front of long-term illness. As a large sect, it was difficult for everyone to work together, so would Taiheng really, for the sake of a simple sense of “righteousness”, be willing to save a disabled person regardless of the cost?
“Some people want to give up, but I’m giving it my all with another group of people, causing chaos within Taiheng. As things became increasingly chaotic, the elders sent Duanyun to discuss it with me. I understand Duanyun’s concerns, but I… I just feel that Taiheng shouldn’t be like this.”
Shi Zhongyu gently stroked the Green Maiden Sword, lowered her gaze, and her tone became softer.
“For decades, Sect Master Qi has exhausted himself for Taiheng, and his kindness towards me and others is as heavy as a mountain. If there is no hope left for him, I will never force it. But there is clearly hope, and yet we selfishly decided to give up… any other sect could give up, but Taiheng shouldn’t be like this.”
Yin Ci swept his gaze around, and indeed, within the Kushan Sect, there was no unified opinion on this matter—
Yan Qing looked at Shi Zhongyu and nodded with a somewhat emotional agreement. Su Si widened his eyes as if he had witnessed a stubborn donkey becoming enlightened, full of disbelief.
Shi Zhongyu didn’t mention too much about the internal affairs of Taiheng, but Yin Ci could imagine. If giving up was the majority’s decision, she would probably have already been labeled with accusations of “disrupting the sect”, “womanly compassion”, and “ignorance of the current situation”.
No wonder she had been so irritable when they met a few days ago. To withstand that kind of pressure, her backbone had to be exceptionally strong.
Seeing that everyone remained silent for a long time, Shi Zhongyu sheathed her sword, and her expression became calmer.
“That’s the situation. I want to ask the Mishan Sect to save a person who is at the end of their life. The members of the Mishan Sect are proud and arrogant, so they might consider me unreasonable.”
Shi Jingzhi burst into laughter. “Miss Shi, you’re overthinking. Senior Chen Qianfan has the Buddhist name ‘Jueguo’ and used to be a monk at the Jianchen Temple. While others may refuse, an eminent monk of the Jianchen Temple would never get angry over saving a person’s life.”
Shi Zhongyu’s expression changed several times before settling on “relief”.
She raised her fist towards Shi Jingzhi. “Sect Master Shi, you didn’t have to get involved in this matter. Today’s favor, I, Shi Zhongyu, will remember it.”
The road ahead should be relatively easy to traverse.
Thankfully, the Mishan Sect was built on the ruins of Milan, and the area was vast and sparsely populated. Besides the demon-quelling formation, there were no complicated formations or troublesome monsters in sight.
The only danger was perhaps the ruins buried under the snow. Hidden beneath the thick layer of snow, who knew how many unknown dangers lay concealed. As long as one wasn’t careful, stumbling and falling face-first into the snow was a minor matter. Quite possibly, they might even come face to face with a frozen corpse from two hundred years ago.
Sect Master Shi’s mind was elsewhere, and after walking a few steps, he stumbled and nearly had an intimate encounter with a snow-covered human head.
That head had experienced who knew what with its bluish-black swelling, twisted, and deformed. Its facial features were misplaced, and a frozen eyeball had popped out of its eye socket.
Unfortunately, Shi Jingzhi was preoccupied with important matters. When suddenly faced with this difficulty, it caused half of his soul to explode and the ban to fall into complete silence.
When he regained his senses, he found himself clinging to Yin Ci again, and the latter was patiently trying to pull him off.
Shi Zhongyu had witnessed this scene before in the Ghost Tomb and now deliberately averted her gaze, pretending not to have seen anything.
After this incident, Shi Jingzhi completely dismissed the idea of using his physical body to plow through the snow and save energy. He took a deep breath, and his qinggong suddenly soared. He moved as if treading on thin ice, naturally grasping the technique without any guidance.
Fortunately, apart from that, there were no other mishaps. Following Juefei’s instructions, the group arrived at their destination before sunset.
Unexpectedly, Chen Qianfan’s residence had no trace of immortal or Buddhist aura.
He had chosen a ruined Milan trading post and transformed it into a dwelling. The house was indeed spacious, but the exterior was patched up in a strange and mismatched manner. The building still bore scorch marks, and many holes were plugged with demon skin. The surroundings were an endless expanse of snowy plains, emanating a lonely atmosphere that surged up to everyone’s feet.
An elderly woman was the first to notice them.
The old woman seemed to have some Milan lineage. She had slightly curled white hair and a tall nose bridge, but her eyebrows, eyes, and skin resembled those of a typical Central Plains person. Although her dwelling was peculiar, her clothes were clean, and even the damaged areas were carefully embroidered with flowers.
“Hello there,” she rubbed her hands as she greeted in Great Yun’s official language, though not very standard. “Are you here to see Master Chen?”
Shi Jingzhi moved his mask aside and politely greeted her, “May I ask who you are?”
“Good kid. Just call me Granny Wei.”
With a smile on her face, Granny Wei’s wrinkles gathered together.
“Master Chen isn’t here right now but come on in and have a seat first. I’ve cooked some hot soup. It’s not easy for you to travel such a long way… Oh, did you bring a gift? You’ve come a long way; that’s too polite. How about I cook something for you later…”
She caught sight of Lord Bai in Su Si’s arms. The Lord Bai’s feelers instantly tensed up, and it desperately tried to burrow into Su Si’s outer robe.
“The gift is here.” Yan Qing came to the rescue in time and handed over the prepared gift.
Considering that the Mishan Sect was located in a remote area with inconvenient merchant traffic, before their departure, Qu Duanyun had prepared some inexpensive but practical trinkets for them.
“No need to be so polite. I don’t understand these things. We’ll talk about it when Master Chen returns.”
Granny Wei’s smile remained unchanged as she chattered away, leading everyone inside.
The house had been converted from a trading post and had an incredibly spacious front hall.
The left half of the front hall was completely occupied by gray-black slate tiles. The tiles were about three fingers thick, standing on the ground with inscriptions that were incomprehensible. Numerous slate tiles surrounded a table, which was piled high with precarious scrolls and various unnamable instruments.
The gaps between the slate tiles and the table were filled with barrels of mummified monster corpses. The place was freezing cold, and the interior was far from warm. The corpses of the monsters emitted a faint smell of decay, combined with the frigid air, creating an aura of isolation that kept people at a distance.
On the other hand, the right half of the front hall was impeccably clean and neatly arranged. The slate floor was devoid of any specks of dust, and a warm fire burned in the stove. The table was covered with a beautiful, embroidered tablecloth, and even the vase had dried branches tied together to form small flowers.
Granny Wei served them soup one by one. “Master Chen is conducting research, and he goes out to capture monsters every evening. He’s a stickler for time and will come back before dinner. You can wait here at ease. He doesn’t talk much, but he has a good heart and won’t make things difficult for you…”
Yan Qing couldn’t bear to see the old woman serving them, so he stood up first. As a result, the table was lighter than they had anticipated, and the entire table shook when he stood up, splashing some soup onto Granny Wei’s gloves.
“Granny, I apologize. Let me help you out, you…”
Yan Qing apologized halfway but couldn’t continue.
Granny Wei smiled and took off her gloves, revealing a hand covered in densely engraved blood-red patterns. Layers upon layers of magic arrays intertwined on her hand, making it dizzying to look at.
The patterns were incredibly intricate and complex, to the point where even Yin Ci couldn’t make sense of them at a glance.
The old woman didn’t think much of it herself. She seemed used to it and swiftly changed into a new pair of gloves. “Oh, you can just sit there. I’m quite strong and robust. Master Chen said that while staying here, you should move around more to invigorate your blood and loosen your muscles.”
No one dared to move this time.
Yan Qing obediently sat back in his chair, placing his hands on his thighs.
Granny Wei served herself a bowl of soup and leisurely drank it. “It’s fine, don’t worry about Master Chen. You all go ahead and drink. It’s cold here, and not drinking will make you feel chilly.”
Yin Ci was the first to pick up his bowl and take a sip. The soup had a gentle flavor and didn’t contain any strange ingredients. However, it lacked even a hint of saltiness, possibly due to some special preparation method in this place.
With Abbott Juefei as their guarantor and Yin Ci taking the first sip of the soup, everyone mechanically drank the hot soup without taste and continued to wait with a brave face.
Finally, as the sun set, the door opened.
Chen Qianfan returned in triumph with a large basket filled with bloody monster corpses.
Noon, 12:00 GMT, which was 8:00 PM local time in China.
Around this time, ordinary working-class families had just finished dinner, and most of them were enjoying happy family time together. Fathers were washing dishes or helping their children with homework, while mothers tuned the TV to the primetime drama channel.
However, today, Yongchuan TV suspended the airing of its usual xianxia* drama and started uninterrupted live coverage of the latest developments in the Nao Kangning adverse reaction and the follow-up mass poisoning case.
*Basically Chinese fantasy involving immortals heavily inspired by Chinese mythology.
In the studio of Yongchuan TV, more than ten experts and professors had appeared to analyze and comment on the letters from the sociopath and Lin Chen’s reply representing the government. Even the four criminals selected by Lin Chen were thoroughly investigated, and without the need for official disclosure, reporters had already dug into their personal backgrounds and criminal histories.
The well-built man named Zhao Yi was the leader of a criminal gang, involved in running illegal gambling establishments, and had forced debtors to their deaths. He had also injured a police officer during an arrest. He represented the most traditional kind of crime boss.
The dark-skinned man named Qian Bao was involved in fraud. He had a small storefront in a market and ran a P2P fundraising scam, which resulted in an elderly person’s death due to a stroke caused from being swindled.
The man with tattoos all over his head was named Sun Zhen, a murderer who accidentally killed a shop owner during a dispute at a barbecue stall. Before that incident, Sun Zhen’s frequency of visits to the detention center had been alarmingly high.
To be honest, except for Yan Guiqiu, the other three were indeed criminals with a long history of wrongdoing. But among the four, there was Yan Guiqiu, a skinny and foolish petty thief.
The woman leaned back on the sofa and didn’t feel any annoyance at the interruption of her favorite drama. She was genuinely engrossed in the news content.
The female anchor, who had previously read the letter and reply, had taken a break as her on-duty time was too long and was temporarily replaced by a male colleague.
The male anchor said, “Up until now, the police have not received any formal response from the responsible party in the poisoning attack. However, there have been no further cases of poisoning in various cities.” The host continued, “With fifteen minutes left until the appointed time, let’s focus on the latest visit to the online voting website that the police launched at 18:00 sharp.”
The LCD TV displayed a website ending with .ORG, with simple white text on a black background, indicating that it was a simple voting website to decide the life and death of the four criminals. It didn’t belong to the dark web; instead, it was a voting website purely made by the police, and anyone could open their browser and access it.
The host had already demonstrated the specific process of real-name registration and voting to the audience, but since it wasn’t yet the appointed time, they could only report on the real-time visitor count displayed at the bottom of the website.
“Now, it’s 7:48 PM in China, and we can see that the real-time visitor count mentioned in the police’s reply has reached 256,000. As we approach 8:00 PM, the number of visitors is increasing rapidly.”
Just as the host was speaking, the visitor count reached 3 at the beginning, and even the highly professional male anchor widened his pupils and revealed a shocked expression upon seeing this scene.
However, he quickly adjusted his emotions, steadied his breath, and said seriously, “Let’s move on to the next news.” The handsome male anchor looked at the teleprompter and reported, “As of 7:50 PM in China, the Goose Forum website’s public opinion survey shows that over 65% of the people believe that innocent civilians have more reason to live than hardened criminals. The remaining 31% of people cannot decide, and only 4% of people chose the option that the criminals should be allowed to live.”
The man washing dishes in the kitchen was dissatisfied with this and couldn’t help but shout, “I knew there are so many perverts in this society, actually thinking that innocent people have more reason to live than criminals!”
“Why is your voice so loud? Our son is doing his homework. Can’t you lower your voice?” The woman lowered the TV volume and warned the man in the kitchen in a hushed tone.
However, she didn’t realize that her son, who was doing homework in the study, didn’t obediently follow her words. Thirteen- or fourteen-year-old boys were at an age when curiosity was at its peak, and coupled with such a major social event, how could he resist the urge to secretly browse social media?
The boy switched to the mobile browser screen and quickly typed a line of text.
@MugglesEatEggs*: [Excited, excited! Only eight minutes left.]
*I’m pretty sure the Muggles is referencing Harry Potter.
@ComingAndGoing: [Really? Do you guys really think the big boss will agree with the police uncle’s proposal?]
@MugglesEatEggs: [Even if the police are making a fuss, it’s quite fun. In any case, the results will be out soon, and we’ll know in eight minutes.]
@TomatoFriedEggs: [I’ve been squatting on the dark web already (don’t doubt the word order because it’s censored).]
@ComingAndGoing: [OMG, how do you know the specific website address? Great expert, please teach me, I also want to witness history!]
@TomatoFriedEggs: [No.]
……
Similar or completely different discussions were taking place on various social platforms, converging into a massive information flow, pouring into the command center of the Hongjing Municipal Bureau.
19:55.
At this moment, the entire wall of the command hall was filled with projected screens displaying the continuous live broadcast from Yongchuan TV and various major online streaming platforms.
The main part of the screen was all white, but one could still tell it was a full-screen browser window. After all, everyone was familiar with the words “This page cannot be displayed”, which was the web address that was previously used to bet on in the dark web for their surrounding cities—the agreed location between Lin Chen and the other party.
Within a few hours, nothing happened, indicating the other party was also thinking.
However, the browser address part was covered with a thick mosaic.
The officer in charge of the live broadcast was named Zhou Quan, a key member of the Jiangxia Provincial Public Security Department’s Information Technology Division.
After checking the connection lines and systems, ensuring his code was thick enough, he synchronized the system time with the Greenwich Observatory time again and fell into a restless waiting mood as the countdown began.
He rubbed his hands and looked around, realizing that there were still five minutes left. People in the hall were still whispering to each other.
Different discussions filled the room. He nudged his colleague responsible for the live broadcast next to him. “Have you ever thought about why Consultant Lin used Greenwich time*?”
*Is the mean solar time at the Royal Observatory in Greenwich, London, counted from midnight. At different times in the past, it has been calculated in different ways, including being calculated from noon; as a consequence, it cannot be used to specify a particular time unless a context is given.
“Because the other party may be in a foreign country. Having a unified time point is better,” his colleague replied casually, still focusing on the main screen.
“What kind of reason is that?” Zhou Quan shrugged and scanned the entire hall with a prolonged neck. The atmosphere on-site wasn’t too heavy—at least much better than when they were ordered to enter the command center.
The operators were assigned to another area, and the higher-ups were all waiting in glass rooms. One minute passed, and the footsteps in the hall gradually stopped.
Because of the silence, Zhou Quan finally realized what was missing.
“Where’s that kid?” He remembered the teenager who had been instructing them in internet monitoring. He couldn’t remember how long it had been since he last saw the other person. “His name is Wang Chao, right?”
“Oh, the one from the Network Division of the Hongjing Municipal Bureau,” his colleague from the same department replied casually.
Zhou Quan’s eyes lit up. “He was here earlier. Why isn’t he on duty now? How long has he been gone? Is he on a secret mission?”
Before his “Ah” could be fully spoken, he received a heavy scolding.
The public opinion expert in charge of commanding the entire live broadcast operation glared at him as a warning, making him instinctively shrink his neck and remain silent. But Zhou Quan thought that this seemingly unrealistic guess couldn’t be blamed on himself.
After all, Consultant Lin’s plan was so simple and straightforward. If the mastermind behind the scenes was still playing a magnificent killing game, then Lin Chen was directly handing over a sharp knife gleaming with cold light and asking the mastermind, “Do you want to use it to kill the four criminals?”
Who would be foolish enough to accept?
Zhou Quan’s thoughts drifted far away, filled with various random ideas, and he almost amused himself. He leaned back in his chair. It was 60 seconds away from the agreed time, and there was no sound in the command hall anymore.
Even the busiest people temporarily put down their work and looked up at the coarse-grained image on the display screen.
The air was extremely quiet, which made it seem even more grand.
As the second hand went halfway around the clock, Zhou Quan found that he couldn’t laugh anymore. He had always thought that his mentality was strong, but in these short 30 seconds, he found that his facial muscles were sore from clenching his teeth.
He couldn’t help but relax his jaw, and at that moment, the second hand also passed number 11 without any mercy.
Zhou Quan quickly shifted his gaze to the main display screen, and the atmosphere of the image weighed heavily on his chest.
Clearly, nothing had happened, yet why did it still feel heavy?
As he thought this, the second hand dutifully completed the last grid, and the web page refreshed automatically at its fixed frequency. Zhou Quan blinked lightly.
The words “This page cannot be displayed” were gone.
Unlike the countless scenes they had imagined and anticipated before, the transition of the webpage was very calm and serene, as if the first drop of rain had fallen from the sky, revealing an entirely new picture.
It was a short video, and people didn’t have time to carefully observe what the webpage carrying the video had transformed into. They instinctively stared at the screen.
In the video, there was a fast-forwarded footage showing a patient going crazy on the bed but completely regaining consciousness after being injected with some kind of medication. The hospital room was clean and white, and the video was relatively short and quick, with no significant changes in the lighting outside the window.
Anyone who watched the video could quickly understand its significance—it clearly implied that the detoxifying agent mentioned in Lin Chen’s reply was a real thing.
Zhou Quan’s mind exploded, and a myriad of information raced through his thoughts. He needed strong self-control to eliminate emotional interference and understand what this really meant.
Did it mean that the other side had actually accepted the new voting proposal that even a fool would refuse?
The other side even provided a short video, leaving no room for ambiguity: The four criminals needed to die, and the antidote would be theirs.
But…
Who could prove the authenticity of this video and the effectiveness of the antidote?
Zhou Quan even disregarded the live broadcast signal. He dragged the mouse and thoroughly checked the .onion ending website on his own small screen.
There were no specific descriptions of the therapeutic effects or any experimental reports, nor were there any fancy retro gold coin effects.
Besides this opening video, the website only had a simple multiple-choice question on a black background with white text, written in six languages:
—I believe that sacrificing the lives of four criminals in exchange for a drug that can save more people is worth it.
“Since I don’t know your name, I can only use ‘you’ to address you.
I represent the provincial governments of Jiangxia, Zhelin, and Cheng’an. As per your request, I am officially responding to your letter in an official capacity.”
The female anchor spoke in a calm and not very loud voice, yet in the old and dim underground space, it swept through like a breeze. The people slowly moving in the subway station seemed to be inspired, as they all simultaneously lifted their heads. In the bright studio, the female anchor also lifted her head. With a solemn demeanor, she steadied her breath before saying, “We agree to some of your demands.”
The people in the station couldn’t believe their ears, and the quicker ones started exchanging surprised looks with others around them.
In fact, those who were protected by the government every day found it difficult to believe deep down that the organization meant to ensure their well-being and prosperity would one day compromise and remove their protection, leaving them exposed to the sinister intentions of the opposition. Naturally, some people began to vent their anger.
“Motherfuckers!”
“They’re spineless!”
However, just as the crowd was about to get excited, the female anchor’s voice sounded just right again.
“But please do not misunderstand. By ‘some’, we mean that since you possess the ability to arbitrarily take innocent lives, we agree to participate in the voting game arranged by you, to decide certain matters by public opinion. However, we cannot agree with the way you’ve constructed the game. Therefore, I have a new proposal.”
After emphasizing the word “I,” the news footage changed accordingly.
It revealed a much brighter landscape than the studio, with green mountains and muddy rivers. You could almost feel the long wind brushing through the mountains. As the wind blew, the camera descended and focused on a majestic and solemn cluster of dark gray buildings.
Surrounded by green mountains and with muddy water in the front, it was the Min River No.1 Prison.
Many viewers couldn’t immediately recall the name of the prison, but they could still recognize it from its distinctive architectural style. The dim subway station erupted in suppressed gasps, resembling the sound of the murky waters of the Min River hitting the rocks.
Fang Aizi also looked up; the young girl had already found a seat to sit cross-legged. At this moment, she had taken out a roll of lemon-flavored hard candy from her pocket and put two pieces in her mouth.
The old-fashioned hanging color TV displayed the pace of a movie as the scene faded out and then faded back in.
The magnificent scenery became tiny, and the smallness originated from the pale-yellow light source in the dim space. It was a pitch-black and narrow room, with walls built from square cement bricks, smooth and well-lit, exuding the cold and ruthless atmosphere typical of a prison’s solitary confinement cell.
In the room, there was a small hanging lamp, and beneath it sat four men.
One was burly, another was dark-skinned, one had tattoos covering his head, and the last one resembled a thin black cat.
All four men were wearing prison uniforms, sitting silently under the lamp, facing the camera with indifferent expressions.
The off-screen voice of the female anchor resounded once again as she continued to read the letter.
“These four individuals were randomly selected from prisoners at Min River No. 1 Prison, and coincidentally, they symbolize four very emblematic criminals: a swindler, a robber, a thief, and a murderer. I have no intention of explaining in detail the reasons for their imprisonment, but if the game proceeds smoothly, all their case files will be made public online, and anyone can freely access them. Therefore, my proposal is as follows: in order to avoid causing greater harm and casualties, I suggest that the three provinces concentrate their voting on these four individuals. Each person with a registered residence and residence permit in the three provinces will have the right to vote with their real names—one person, one vote—to decide the life or death of these four individuals. The voting period will be 24 hours. If, after 24 hours, the voting result indicates that the four individuals should be executed, I will personally carry out their executions, as a substitute for the planned poisoning operation in any city. If the result is the opposite, you may continue your poisoning activities in the manner you desire.”
The female anchor paused after reading the letter while her cold gaze scanned the audience below, giving everyone a moment to think. She struck the right balance, as if she had practiced it a thousand times, suppressing any foul language that might have been uttered by the people.
“I believe that the minority replacing the majority scheme is more reasonable for the following reasons: First, as previously mentioned, it can gradually reduce unnecessary casualties. Second, your proposed plan could easily lead us to sacrifice a certain city, guiding the votes towards that city. However, once you accept my proposal, my government and I will not interfere with the citizens’ choices. Second, quality is more important than quantity, and extreme situations can better expose problems and raise awareness of deeper issues.”
The female anchor’s tone remained calm, reciting the reply letter with the ordinary tone of reading an instruction manual. “Of course, I think a fairer approach would be to raise the stakes. I wonder if you would consider changing it to: If the four criminals are voted to be executed, you will provide a complete treatment plan for the neurotoxin and related agents to our side.” At this point, she once again gazed significantly at the camera, though her tone was as calm as the person who wrote the letter. She continued, “These proposals are merely my humble opinion, and all decisions should be made by you. If you agree to some of my proposals, please launch the new voting system on your website at exactly 12:00 GMT. We will synchronously launch the online and offline voting procedures one minute later, and voting will be conducted in a real-name system—one person, one vote. The voting results will be broadcast live to ensure fairness.”
“Please believe in our sincerity, and I hope you will carefully consider and reply.
Sincerely,
Lin Chen.
September 3, 2016.”
Without giving the audience any time to comprehend their emotions, the female anchor calmly turned the letter over and displayed it in front of hundreds of millions of viewers.
Indeed, it was a handwritten letter, with the words “Hongjing Municipal Police Bureau, Jiangxia Province” written in red at the top of the stationery. The entire content of the letter was handwritten with a fountain pen, just the length of a high school student’s essay.
The handwriting was elegant, just like the person himself. The director also happened to focus the final live shot on the two words “Lin Chen” and the personal seal.
If the original letter was like blazing fireworks, then this reply was like a refreshing breeze in the mountains.
The entire letter was well-organized, well-reasoned, and without any provocative tone. Even the text format matched the one used by the sender, making it appear more like a straightforward instruction manual.
However, only a small group of people who knew Lin Chen’s whereabouts were aware that this letter wasn’t an instant reply. Long before Lin Chen entered Hongjing Detention Center, this handwritten letter had been sent urgently from Hongjing and arrived at Yongchuan TV Station before the Meicun Clothing Market incident occurred.
In other words, several hours ago, Lin Chen had already made a corresponding reply to a letter he would never have seen.
Therefore, when the National Yongchuan TV Station ended the BREAKING NEWS broadcast, most viewers’ first reaction was to start counting down. However, the officials in the Hongjing Municipal Bureau were different. Xing Conglian stood in the glass room, and everyone outside looked at him incredulously, as if they wanted to burn holes in his old face.
This made Xing Conglian want to stay in the glass room, but Shen Heming patted his shoulder and said, “Let’s go out together.”
As soon as the glass door was pushed open, all kinds of miscellaneous inquiries squeezed in through the gap.
“Lao Xing… Is Lin Chen…” the public opinion expert probed.
“Still in the detention center?”
“Yes.”
“Then… Did someone else write the reply letter?”
“He wrote it himself.”
Xing Conglian said indifferently, but before he could finish his words, the entire hall erupted into incredulous exclamations again.
“Consultant Lin… knew in advance?”
“This is too incredible.”
“But… Four prisoners… This is too audacious!”
“Minister Shen?”
The police officers whispered to each other, discussing the matter among themselves.
This should have been a moment that made Xing Conglian proud, but as he looked at the officers, who seemed visibly relieved, his brows involuntarily furrowed.
This was the change brought about by Lin Chen’s letter, relieving everyone from the dilemma they were facing temporarily and taking the burden off their hearts because someone had taken responsibility in their place.
However, he knew very well that this was just the beginning—a brief calm before the storm. When everyone woke up to the reality of the situation, they would understand the magnitude of the problem.
At this moment, the usually cold and strategic expert suddenly spoke up. “How does he know that the other side will agree?”
Xing Conglian’s gaze pierced through the crowd and fell on the person’s face. Smart people always grasp things earlier.
The person paused and added, “He also revealed our backup plan. Although this might facilitate the other side’s acceptance of his plan, fundamentally, it still confines us to a passive position, which isn’t right.”
Xing Conglian looked at the cold and confident eyes, not saying anything.
……
While the discussions within the police station were concerned about Xing Conglian’s reputation and Lin Chen’s accurate predictions, on the crowded platform of the underground subway station, no one cared about such matters. It was always terrorists holding hostages to threaten the government, but now the situation seemed to have reversed, with the government holding hostages to threaten the terrorists. This sudden reversal of the plot unexpectedly swept away the oppressive atmosphere, as if the old ventilation system had been reactivated. People picked up their backpacks and resumed their activities and conversations.
“Is that Lin Chen a member of the police?”
“It seems like it.”
“Is he crazy?”
“I don’t know…”
“What level is the police at now? Is that reply letter a joke?”
“Huh?”
“The bad guy wants us to pit all the cities in the three provinces against each other. Focusing on these four criminals, isn’t this a distraction tactic? Do they really think the bad guy will agree?”
“Yes.”
Passersby ignored the short-haired girl sitting cross-legged nearby and didn’t even spare her a glance. This time, the girl didn’t refute anything; she simply crushed the hard candy in her mouth.
The same discussion was taking place in the subway carriage that had already departed the platform.
A girl with a ponytail wearing the Fengjing School uniform gritted her teeth, as if she hadn’t recovered from the humiliation she had just experienced. She had to say something to ease her anger.
“Hmph, the government’s think tank can only come up with such a rotten idea. They really believe that just by changing the plan, the mastermind will agree? I never thought they could be so stupid,” she said coldly. “Besides, this is a morality war, or even a battle for public opinion. If they really go through with this, the law will be nonexistent. Innocent people will be executed, and anyone can be sacrificed. It makes me sick.”
The girl next to her, who had been meekly nodding, also added, “But I think… it’s not a bad idea to have just four criminals. After all, one of them is a murderer. To put it bluntly, if they die, they die.”
The girl with the ponytail raised an eyebrow half-heartedly and said nonchalantly, “Think about it this way, even you think it’s no big deal for four criminals to die, not to mention others. Do you really think the bad guy won’t realize something so simple? How could he agree?”
“Yeah, I also think it won’t work.”
“They’re really dumb. It would have been better to go with that ‘induced voting’ plan. They are just a bunch of clueless pigs, wasting opportunities!” The girl with the ponytail was deeply disappointed and wished she could criticize them for thousands of words.
However, she didn’t realize that, within the time it took to read a letter, the atmosphere on the subway train had returned to normal.
People chatted, read novels, pointed at their phone screens, and whispered to each other, no longer troubled by the difficult choices they were forced to face.
……
The television was still on, but Shen Lian was focused on observing Lin Chen.
She could see it in his serene gaze—the hand that held the water glass, the hand that wrote that letter. Because she was a lunatic, only she could truly comprehend the madness concealed within that seemingly ordinary letter—a madness that even made her shudder.
“You really betrayed your own teammates, Lin Chen. I really underestimated you. I’m sure those fools are now relieved after being deceived by you.”
Lin Chen took a sip of tea, shaking his head helplessly. “Yes.”
“So, you’re really going to play it like this?” She knocked on the table unusually, asking Lin Chen with surprise.
“Yes.”
“And you’re really capable of killing those four prisoners?”
“Of course, the prison is equipped with a lethal injection drug.”
“Why, why can you come up with such a simple and interesting thing? It’s too interesting.”
Shen Lian sighed, the chains on her wrist jingling with her movement.
But what surprised her even more was that Lin Chen actually answered her question seriously.
“Because I’ve considered too many solutions. Whether it’s public opinion control or induced voting, there are many ways to unite people. The power of the state authorities is stronger than I imagined.”
“Then why don’t you use those methods to pass this off easily?”
“Because no matter how I think about it, it feels wrong.” Lin Chen gently stroked the edge of the cup. “The choice should not arise from inducement; it should come from the heart to be sincere. Since our fundamental difference lies in our differing views on human nature, I shouldn’t lose my courage.”
“Seeking courage from a low-probability event, you’re so naive and cute.”
“You mentioned probability, and that’s right.” Lin Chen spoke slowly but sincerely. “After all, psychology is a science, and in a way, the game he designed is a psychological test. Since it’s a test design, I’m more professional in this aspect than him.”
Although Lin Chen said “more professional”, Shen Lian understood very well that he meant a lot more professional.
She sarcastically smirked and patiently listened as Lin Chen continued, “The problem with his test design lies in the insolubility of the results. It’s unsolvable for us, but isn’t it the same for him? Therefore, I changed the test structure to better detect the psychological traits of the group targeted by this test and eliminated the significant interference from the government’s influence. I thought I did a decent job, don’t you think?”
Looking at Lin Chen’s confident and frank expression, Shen Lian smiled. “Indeed, not bad.”
Upon receiving praise, Lin Chen’s face, which had been slightly lowered, suddenly lifted, and his eyes were clear, as if he could see through people’s hearts.
“So, do you think he will agree with my changes?”
In that moment, Shen Lian felt as if she was being pierced by that gaze, and she finally realized that Lin Chen had been looking at her all along, but he wasn’t really looking at her.
She was just a pawn, a chessboard, a springboard, a link… She was the medium through which Lin Chen and that person engaged in their remote confrontation.
He was looking at him through her; as long as she was here, Lin Chen would never leave this small room.
Realizing that she had the privilege of witnessing such a great battle, Shen Lian trembled with excitement.
“Why wouldn’t he? Thank you for coming up with such a despicable game. This is exactly what he wanted!”
Zhong Chengshuo was still in Yin Ren’s palm. Apart from the mutated eyeballs and the abnormal black circle on top of his head, his appearance hadn’t changed at all.
Yin Ren was slightly surprised. He had never seen Zhong Chengshuo truly utilize his essence before. At most, he indirectly used the power of his essence to scare a few murderers or ignite the Karma Lantern. At this moment, the essence remaining within Zhong Chengshuo’s body was highly active. Just this small portion that hadn’t merged completely made the red light of Fear completely obedient.
…It was understandable. Zhong Chengshuo had always been rational and restrained. Unfortunately, the instinct deep within living beings could only be brought out in a state of madness and chaos.
Zhong Chengshuo was dressed in a white linen shirt, with loose cuffs. His glasses were still perched on his nose, and the three black pieces on his head gave off an almost inorganic, non-human feeling.
Unfortunately, his ears were bright red, disrupting the solemn atmosphere. Under the illumination of the Karma Lamp, this person’s earlobes were almost glowing on their own. However, Zhong Chengshuo stubbornly continued to compose himself, looking straight ahead, pretending as if nothing had happened.
Yin Ren stifled a chuckle.
Without the bone-deep pain, his body felt as comfortable as lying on a cloud, giving him a rare opportunity for contemplation. Since madness could lead Zhong Chengshuo to find a path, perhaps rationality could also guide him in the right direction.
Yin Ren folded his arms, and countless wings quietly sprouted eyeballs, gazing around…
The people who were originally moving in their respective spaces turned their bodies and began walking in unison toward Yin Ren’s location. Countless gazes pierced through Yin Ren like sharp arrows. Their faces contorted with expressions between gentleness and pain; especially Zhong Chengshuo’s—the most abundant images in the illusions—their speed of convergence was astonishing.
Yin Ren closed his eyes and focused on tracing the flow of power around him. The wind, the scent, the direction where the Karma Lantern’s red light was most concentrated…
There was a problem with the flow of power. As expected, Love was preparing to leave this place. It hadn’t fully emerged yet and lacked sufficient strength. Naturally, it didn’t want to confront the two gods head-on. Love clearly knew the way out, but for some reason, its birth was being obstructed, and its progress was slow.
Now Love was in a dilemma, at the point of a desperate struggle. If it were Yin Ren, he would definitely launch an explosive attack once and for all, disregarding everything, to be born!
They must crush Love here, or there would be endless trouble in the future.
Yin Ren took a deep breath, pushing away the interference of pain, and a vague conjecture emerged in his mind.
“Zhong Chengshuo, use the lamp to protect yourself. You’ve consumed a lot, and now you need to regain your strength.”
This time, Zhong Chengshuo lifted his head. “Once I stop, the contamination of Love will return.”
“I know.” Yin Ren looked at the crowd closing in from all directions, answering firmly.
“Do you have confidence?” Zhong Chengshuo asked as the gray crowd continued to gather, becoming denser.
“No,” Yin Ren said. “I only have a rough idea that needs verification.”
Zhong Chengshuo fell silent. Below, numerous “selves” had already reached out their hands and forcefully tore at the cluster of wings. Wherever the illusions made contact, the corruption of Love spread once again.
“…I believe in you,” Zhong Chengshuo said. He then closed his eyes and said no more.
“I do too.” Yin Ren raised the small figure of his lover, tilting his head forward and gently touching Zhong Chengshuo.
Unlike before, Zhong Chengshuo didn’t touch his forehead. Through the red veil, Zhong Chengshuo slightly raised his head and gently kissed the enormous monster.
“I do too,” Yin Ren replied once again, even though the other party hadn’t said anything.
Immediately, Yin Ren gently lifted his palm upward. A clean set of wings separated from the mass of wings and caught Zhong Chengshuo like a mattress, floating towards safety.
Following Yin Ren’s instructions, Zhong Chengshuo concentrated on the red light around himself, like a tiny flame beside an enormous creature. The dissipation of Zhong Chengshuo’s power stopped there, and he let out a long breath, nervously looking down.
With no red light suppressing them, the eyeballs on every white heart opened wide in an instant.
The phantom versions of people no longer approached like zombies but charged at Yin Ren from all directions. They reached out their arms, their fingers clawing randomly, as if trying to tear Yin Ren apart alive. Shouts and wails filled the air, making a buzzing sound in people’s heads. Every time the illusions tore and scratched, they left behind a trail of white corruption.
Like an anthill when a flood came, these illusions wrapped layer upon layer, with the newcomers trampling over the previous ones, all in order to tear off another piece of flesh. Yin Ren’s body was large, now resembling a statue drowned in dust, with the vibrant red gradually being covered by a pale gray.
Zhong Chengshuo watched everything calmly.
The lingering effects of Love’s corruption still raged within him, and he tightly held onto his own arm, waiting in place.
He believed that Yin Ren would never joke about his feelings. Zhong Chengshuo forced himself to watch, with the Karma Lantern in his hand ready at any moment. As long as Yin Ren gave any signal for help, he would immediately dispel that darkness.
But Yin Ren himself remained as quiet as a statue, allowing the overwhelming crowd to pounce on him.
……
Yin Ren scrutinized the people rushing towards him.
The villagers of Yin Village were at the forefront—their distinct features were clearly visible, and they were all familiar faces he had glimpsed from afar.
And they were all faces that died in the flames that night. Their hair became disheveled, their bodies covered in dark stains of blood, and their white hearts pounded as if on the verge of bursting.
Why? Why?
Tears of blood flowed from their eyes, and their mouths grew wide, spewing similar syllables from the black void within.
“Great Master, you promised to protect my family…”
“Great Master, you could have saved my parents…”
“Great Master, we’ve been waiting for you. Why didn’t you come?”
People vomited the anguish of “betrayal”, smashing countless expectations rooted in reason and logic. They climbed and tore, layer upon layer, gradually enveloping everything in darkness.
The corruption from Love spread wildly on Yin Ren, and the previously pitch-black cluster of wings turned almost entirely white, growing malformed hearts. With the arms that reached out, corruption crawled up Yin Ren’s cheeks.
Within the dominance of Love, it erased the darkness and dimmed the red, turning everything into a marble-like whiteness.
Love clashed within Yin Ren’s heart. Each impact brought self-blame, pain, despair, and regret. Familial affection, friendship, love… The diverse forms of love transformed into a sea of suffering, squeezing both his physical and mental being. Yin Ren’s body seemed as if it would collapse in the corruption from Love at any moment.
In the gaps of the white hearts, Yin Ren continued to observe.
The people were close enough, and he could see them clearly. The patchwork clothes worn by the elderly in Yin Village, he had helped mend them. The dark-colored clothes of the children, stained with blood, he knew every knife mark and crease… Every detail was exactly as he remembered. Looking up, there were no blurry faces or illusions masquerading as the real ones. There were no baseless expressions of love and hatred.
Love hadn’t lied; these illusions were born from his own heart.
…This is truly, wonderful.
Through the gray veil, Yin Ren lowered his head.
“Why?” In front of him, at the closest distance, several Zhong Chengshuos were accusing him in unison. “I don’t want to see you hurt. I’m willing to die for you.”
“You know all of this, yet you still risk yourself…”
“The person I love wouldn’t blame me for something like this.” The corruption spread to Yin Ren’s head, and his words became slow.
“Zhong Chengshuo surely understands that I wouldn’t make him suffer for no reason. Unless he becomes a madman driven solely by love…”
The cluster of wings, covered in hearts, struggled to move and touched the “Zhong Chengshuo” who was murmuring softly.
A faint light ignited in the darkness, a spark amidst endless pain.
“…He will figure it out. I just need to experience controlled pain like he does, to coax out some hidden instincts.”
The trembling cluster of wings pressed against the phantom’s face.
The eyes and hair remained black, and the white oversized linen shirt remained unchanged. But like a drop of paint falling into clear water, the phantom’s skin acquired a warm tone, and its lips revealed a faint blood color.
The phantom ceased its accusations, gradually closing its mouth, and a touch of red appeared at its ears.
“I can’t represent any emotions, nor create a space like the Primordial Elementals.” Countless clusters of wings fluttered, and Yin Ren’s voice contained a hint of laughter. “Love, you’re right. Humans will always be humans, with limitations…”
Half of Yin Ren’s face was now covered by the deformed hearts, as if parasitized by a sea squirt.
“…Haha.” But he laughed as if he had told a funny joke.
Crack.
A crack appeared on the hearts on Yin Ren’s cheek.
The countless illusions that enveloped Yin Ren froze completely. The shouts and curses of the people ceased as if muted, and they continued to stare at Yin Ren, their faces carrying a sudden realization as if waking from a dream.
“My loved ones…”
Centuries ago, facing the enemy’s cavalry, the men of Yin Village picked up their farming tools, and the women sharpened their knives. They bravely charged forward to protect their loved ones with their own blood.
But they didn’t foolishly pray until the end.
They also left him an apple.
“My friends…”
Huang Jin attached a face that didn’t belong to him, stepping into danger for the sake of the person he loved. Ge Tingting protected the child who saved her life until the end. Fu Xingchuan repeatedly charged to the frontlines, while Hu Tao put away all her madness and showed him a final smile.
“Mom and Dad won’t blame me, right?” The question she left him held no trace of blame or complaint.
She let go of all attachments.
“My love…”
The grotesque rabbit climbed up the mountain cliff, the handsome youth on a bicycle stopped in the rainy night, and the resurrected “Fear” gave him a gentle kiss. From human to evil, to evil to human, to finally standing side by side as gods.
“Regardless of the future, I hope we’ll always be the best accomplices.”
Zhong Chengshuo blew out the candles at his birthday party, making a solemn wish.
“…Every person I remember in my heart is not a fool who can be swayed by Love.”
Yin Ren’s thoughts spread throughout the entire space, filled with a strong killing intent.
As soon as his words fell, countless colors exploded throughout the entire space.
With Yin Ren at the center, the black-and-white world transformed into a vibrant explosion of colors. The fruits on the offering plate at the entrance of Yin Village became vivid, Shian’s fountain reflected a beautiful blue, and Zhong Chengshuo’s home was bathed in warm sunlight, becoming incredibly cozy.
People stumbled back to their rightful places, their expressions gradually coming alive, and the twisted madness vanished without a trace. In this colorful world, the white hearts on their chests beat slower and slower, and their vertical eyes weakly closed.
‘Success,’ Yin Ren thought.
In life, actions were intertwined with complex causes and effects. The so-called “love” couldn’t dominate the entirety of a person’s heart, nor should it ever.
Though he didn’t represent any emotions, nor could he create a metaphysical space, his advantage never changed; compared to those Great Primordial Elementals, he would always understand humans better…
…”True humanity”, this was the corruption belonging to “Yin Ren”.
From this point on, the final puzzle piece of his abilities fell into place. He was no longer the so-called “cub”.
“Zhong Chengshuo!” Yin Ren shouted loudly.
Not far from him, that small red spot instantly expanded. Within nearly infinite space, the same twilight arrived. The pure white corruption on Yin Ren once again peeled away, becoming food for the clusters of wings.
[Even if you can suppress, you cannot decipher…]
The voice of Love weakened considerably, but it still carried an exasperating calmness.
[…Huh?]
Just as it was leisurely refuting, those illusions moved.
“What the hell is this place!” “Let us go back—” “What the hell is happening!” The villagers of Yin Village chattered noisily.
“So many of me; they should all be illusions.” The various Zhong Chengshuos looked at each other. “A trick from Yin Ren’s enemy?”
After a brief moment of chaos, they gradually made the same decision.
People picked up the weapons at hand and began to destroy everything that didn’t conform to normalcy. The entire colorful space burst into countless fragments, collapsing rapidly. The colorful “snowflakes” scattered and grew larger as they descended. The red veil swept over, and a storm surged within the entire space.
“Watch closely. This is the version of them that I know.”
Yin Ren spoke in a deep voice. He floated in the air with a murderous aura. The hearts in the people’s chests were lifted by the strong winds, swirled around Yin Ren, and then disappeared into the sea of dark wings.
His four arms spread out completely, and the pitch-black feathers surged and condensed, forming the deadly sickles once again.
“Zhong Ge, the situation is almost over. Help me find the weak points.”
The blades emitted a dim red light, much thicker than before. They scattered in all directions, exuding a dense and ominous aura.
“…Let’s completely destroy this goddamn place.”
The red light flickered madly, tearing the heavens and earth into fragments along with the illusions. Under the gradually crumbling colors, the pale essence of Love once again revealed itself. The pitch-black wings entangled with each other as the red veil spun wildly around, enveloping countless curses filled with killing intent.
“Tsk!!!”
In an instant, the pitch-black blade pierced through that massive heart.
……
In the human world, The New Pedestrian Street in Donghe District.
Sun Qi’an’s body shook, and she vomited a mouthful of blood. She raised her bloodied hand with a face filled with disbelief.
Across from her, Huang Jin lost consciousness and was lying on Fu Xingchuan’s bone roc. Fu Xingchuan was covered in blood with a deep wound visible on his face, and he seemed on the verge of passing out from blood loss.
“At a time like this…” She delicately furrowed her brows.
“But… it’s not over yet…”
The author has something to say:
But it’s almost over! Miss Love.
Xiao Yin and Xiao Zhong have finally reached their max level (…
Magic candles burned on the candlestick. Instead of flames on their wicks, there were floating white orbs of light.
Knight Eugene sat at his desk with a golden bird perched on his shoulder. Eugene scratched the bird’s feathers with a faint smile on his face.
“Captain… Sir Eugene, are you listening?”
“Of course,” Eugene replied.
The knight reporting sighed. “Upon investigation, the son of Chef Gbagbo Kurt, apprentice Daniel Kurt, disappeared twenty-three days ago. His last sighting was delivering food to the City Lord of Whitebird City.”
“The meal was a blueberry cheesecake tart from the Egret Restaurant, reserved in the name of Margaret Swain. Miss Swain specifically requested thick cheese and honey instead of sugar. According to the restaurant, only Lord Swain eats like this.”
“What did Swain say?”
“He claimed he never received the meal and never saw anyone from the Egret Restaurant,” the knight responded. “He seemed distressed and kept asking if we had new leads.”
“Guilty or not, he’d act like that.” Eugene smiled. “Don’t be deceived.”
“Yes!”
They were lucky, Eugene thought. Just yesterday, Chef Kurt came to them—the grieving father arrived at the church requesting the highest requiem ceremony.
The top requiem ceremony cost sixty gold wheels. The church priest would place the deceased’s bones into a silver vase engraved with divine symbols and pray for them. Afterwards, a relative of the deceased would choose a gold wheel and engrave the exact time of death on it.
The gold wheel symbolized the sun. It was believed that by engraving the exact moment of passing on the sun, the soul would never fall into darkness.
For this, the priest would perform the “Bone Questioning” technique to get the exact time of death, down to the second. The technique was very intricate, making the high-level requiem so expensive.
When the results came out, there was an uproar.
The time of Young Kurt’s death had been revised. On the day he died, the last person he sought was the City Lord. This was intriguing.
“Have you brought up the reason for revisiting Young Kurt’s case to the City Lord?” Eugene asked.
“We informed the City Lord that there was an issue with the time of death, and it needed further investigation.”
“Good job. People make mistakes under pressure. Make sure to strengthen surveillance on the City Lord’s mansion. And don’t relax the investigation on the Mad Monk.”
Eugene dismissed the knight.
Looking back, the clues about Young Kurt’s case were too coincidental.
Without the Bone Questioning, they wouldn’t have revisited Young Kurt’s whereabouts. Only the top requiem ceremony used the technique. It was so expensive, few commoners would apply for it.
According to Kurt, he had mortgaged his property at a low price, and with the ten gold wheels given by the City Lord, he barely had enough money.
As for why he suddenly wanted to hold the requiem ceremony for his son, Kurt claimed his son appeared in his dreams, and given his recent streak of good luck, he wanted the best for his son.
While it wasn’t uncommon for parents and children to have mysterious connections, Eugene had his doubts…
The gold bird suddenly cried out and circled in the air, creating a ring of light. A letter appeared out of thin air.
Eugene swiftly opened the letter, quickly scanning its contents before placing it on the table.
Under the bright light, the black text stood out—
[Before Gbagbo Kurt came to the church, he had a brief conversation with Nol and Teest in the market area. Their behavior was normal. A stray child ran away from the scene but had no contact with the three.]
[Detailed report:]
[The identities of Nol and Teest are unclear, but they are not part of the “Saints”. They have been touring Whitebird City, spending lavishly and politely, without any suspicious behavior.]
[The two always travel together and are intimate. More than twenty young women tried to approach them but were rejected. According to hotel staff, they might be in a same-sex relationship.]
[Current speculation: Judging by their appearance and behavior, Teest might be the illegitimate child of Duke Alva and therefore doesn’t have a surname; Nol is his commoner lover, and they are on a journey.]
[These two don’t seem very suspicious. Suggesting to suspend the investigation.]
Eugene stood up, leisurely walking to the window. The gold bird returned to his shoulder. Through the night, he looked in the direction of the City Lord’s mansion.
“A noble illegitimate child and his lover? Hmm… It doesn’t feel like it.”
……
The City Lord’s mansion, main residence.
Nol never imagined that he would become a double-door refrigerator one day.
Before setting out, Teest thought it was also inappropriate to expose his height and build. He tore up a pile of bed sheets and wrapped Nol so tightly that one could ride a horse on his shoulders. Teest even lovingly modified Nol’s boots, so that when worn, Nol stood nearly two meters tall.
Finally, donning an extended, decayed black robe and wearing a goat-bone mask, Nol looked like a genuine monster… even though he already was one.
Nol had to admit that this appearance was indeed more intimidating—
Upon seeing him, Lord Swain instinctively took a half-step back.
“May everything be eternal,” Nol said in a raspy voice from a corner of the City Lord’s reception room. “You’re late, Swain.”
At this moment, the clock had just passed midnight. Teest, hidden by invisibility magic, vanished his presence and stood right behind the doubled-sized Nol.
“May everything be eternal. I was startled to find a note on the table… I thought…” Lord Swain, gazing at the blue flames in the mask’s eyeholes, spoke with an unstable tone.
It was a bone hand that Nol had sent to write the note. It was a convenient method, albeit with ugly handwriting. But did it matter? Would Lord Swain dare to complain?
“I’ve never heard of this form of contact before.” The City Lord exhaled slowly, regaining his composure quickly. “I need to verify your identity.”
“Sure, verify my identity,” Nol responded sarcastically. “Consider who is speaking—nine days ago, you assured us in the name of the Great Eternal Son that the plan was foolproof. And now? To date, no one has discovered the so-called death scene you mentioned, and you’re even posting notices all over the city.”
Nol’s tone was casual, but he was extremely cautious. With limited information, he needed to control the conversation’s direction— better to accuse than to be accused.
Then, Nol noticed Teest behind him, trembling slightly. That kid was probably holding back his laughter, which was quite annoying.
On the other side, Lord Swain didn’t suspect anything amiss. Sweat formed on his brow. “I’m sorry, My Lord. It’s just the protocol… No one informed me…”
“I didn’t come here to listen to your explanations,” Nol growled, recalling typical lines from game villains. “If you must ramble, I’d rather hear an explanation about another matter.”
Now, quickly explain about Margaret’s case and discuss that mysterious plan.
However, Lord Swain’s face turned pale in an instant. He drew a circle on his chest and slightly bent his back.
“Ever since the Investigation Knights arrived, I haven’t been in contact with any followers in the city, nor have I contacted the Demon Lord again.”
With a dry throat, the City Lord continued, “I don’t know where the leak is, but the Investigation Knight came to me today… I swear, I never meant to hide anything. I just didn’t expect you to come so quickly.”
After a moment of silence, Nol scoffed. “Where’s your reflection on this?”
Hurry up and explain in detail. He had no idea about this matter.
Teest seemed interested too, standing straight up and sneakily peeking over Nol’s shoulder. The two were so close that Nol could feel Teest’s warm breath.
Lord Swain gritted his teeth. “I shouldn’t have given that fatso those gold wheels! For some unknown reason, he insisted on holding the most expensive requiem ceremony for his son. Damn it, aren’t they in need of money?”
“They found out that the time of death didn’t match,” Nol whispered.
He wasn’t sure about the details of the requiem ceremony, but given the one problem with Young Kurt’s death, it wasn’t hard to guess.
“Yes, I somehow fooled them for now, but that Eugene will definitely become suspicious,” the City Lord replied.
With a bitter tone, Lord Swain continued, “Margaret’s remains are also missing, and they won’t leave anytime soon. My Lord, for the sake of our plan, I need…”
“You need our help,” Nol sneered. “How incompetent.”
At the same time, his mind raced, quickly deciding on the most suitable plan to discreetly hand the City Lord over to the Temple of Life.
The City Lord, who was about to be ensnared, held his breath, and the invisible Teest also leaned forward eagerly. It was hard to say whose anticipation was more palpable.
“Since you’ve caught the attention of Eugene Malloy, don’t contact the Eternal Church anymore. From now on, you can only wait for us to contact you,” Nol drawled, having already chosen his scheme.
“As for how to clear the suspicion, it’s simple. Before Margaret ‘disappeared’, she said she met a Mad Monk, so this case was done by the Mad Monk.”
It was just a matter of shifting the blame onto a colleague. After all, they were all from the dark side, so there shouldn’t be any conscience issues. If the Mad Monk became furious and exposed himself, it would be killing two birds with one stone.
Teest went into vibration mode, trying to suppress his laughter again. [Wow, you’re really cunning.] He sent his thoughts through with a tone full of admiration.
Lord Swain paused for a full half-minute. “You mean…”
“You’ve kept so many children’s remains. Just take one out and handle it properly, pretending it’s Margaret. The temple hasn’t caught the ‘Mad Monk’ for so long. One more time won’t make a difference. As long as you make it convincing, they won’t stay here for long.”
“……” Lord Swain frowned, seemingly considering the feasibility.
“I believe our Mad Monk wouldn’t mind.” Nol fanned the flames. “Even if there’s an issue, the church will back you up.”
Lord Swain pressed his lips together. “What if someone takes advantage of this to present the actual body? My Lord, I’m worried someone is deliberately opposing us.”
Congratulations, you’re right. There are many opposing you—Teest and I, Witch Lynn, the Investigation Knights, just to name a few.
“So, do you need me to chew your food and feed you too? One must face God’s trials on their own. Swain, you’re really not up to the task.” Nol took two steps towards the City Lord, his tone as cold as ice. “Of course, you can be hesitant and do nothing… Remember, the entire church is waiting with you.”
The muscles on the side of Swain’s face twitched, and his expression darkened.
Manipulating a cult member using modern workplace tactics shouldn’t be an issue, right? Nol felt a bit guilty, thinking he had turned into the kind of boss he loathed.
However, as long as he could incite Swain to act on his own, there would be plenty of evidence for the knights to seize—even if they didn’t, Nol had countless ways to make it apparent. As for the church’s plan, it was better left to the professionals.
With this, both he and Teest could just pull the strings from the shadows and remain uninvolved.
Nol clenched his fist under his sleeve. If he had a physical body, his palms would be sweaty.
“I…”
Just as Lord Swain began to speak, the bell in the meeting room suddenly rang. Lord Swain gave a slight bow to Nol, placing his left hand over his heart. About two seconds later, he put the inverted bell back in place.
“My Lord, we caught a little girl lurking around the mansion.” The copper tongue inside the bell seemed to have turned into an actual one, moving softly. “How would you like to handle it?”
After glancing at Nol in the corner, Lord Swain suddenly smiled. “Bring her here. I can make use of her.”
After saying this, he flipped the bell back. With his left hand still on his chest, his smile looked somewhat twisted.
“My Lord,” he whispered. “Why didn’t you respond with the church’s greeting?”
The author has something to say:
Theatrical awakening moment! Applause (…
Nol: Damn, why does this guy get work calls in the middle of the night?
Teest: I knew we couldn’t slack off until the end…
The proposal by Teest to “recreate the same wound” was firmly rejected by Nol. Nol spent most of the evening applying heavy makeup to mimic Teest’s injuries. The next morning, he left the City Lord’s mansion with Teest on his back.
After that, Nol only had a street urchin pass a message to the witch, asking her to take care of Margret’s body. Witch Lynn’s response was brief—
[No problem,] she said.
This was the first step of the plan.
Next, they had to wait.
As they anticipated, Lord Swain became more subdued, and there was no disappearance in Whitebird City for the time being. As for killing time, Nol admitted he was no match for Teest. In one night, this guy found out the rankings of all the attractions and restaurants in the city and then dragged him around to visit them one by one.
Ironically, this was probably the first time since Nol came to this world that he had truly rested.
Seven or eight days passed, and they wandered every corner of Whitebird City during the day and shared desserts and fruits in the suite at night. Life was so leisurely that it seemed unreal, as if they were truly on a honeymoon—the two of them always came and went together, and the look in the eyes of the hotel receptionists was somewhat off.
However, their “honeymoon” didn’t include sharing a bed at night.
After dinner, they each returned to their rooms. Nol mainly spent this time thinking about improving the Dragon Corpse Notebook, and as for Teest… He didn’t know what Teest was up to, as the guy was as quiet as the dead.
Judging by the relaxed state in which that guy got up the next day, he probably hadn’t done anything masochistic.
Today, their destination was the most upscale hotel in Whitebird City, and there were many shops with local characteristics nearby.
The sky in the afternoon was incredibly clear. The two of them, carrying bags of different sizes, each took a crunchy peach and sat on a bench near the hotel. The bench was next to a robust oak tree, whose shade blocked the dazzling sunlight, casting dappled light on the ground.
However, not far away, city guards were posting portraits of Margret Swain. She was a pretty young girl with black hair and green eyes, had delicate features, and a round face with a youthful look unique to girls.
But she was no longer in this world. It was just a play by the City Lord, Nol thought. The crunchy peach was fresh and sweet, but he’d lost his appetite.
Maybe they should put some pressure on the City Lord and take action sooner.
No sooner had Nol thought this than there was a sudden weight beside him.
Perhaps the afternoon breeze was too warm, for Teest had fallen asleep at some point. His posture was a bit awkward, and it was clear that Teest wanted to lean against the back of the bench, but his body didn’t cooperate, pressing onto Nol’s shoulder.
Nol didn’t move away. He shifted slightly, allowing Teest to lean more comfortably. Teest smacked his lips but didn’t wake up, emitting the fresh scent of peaches.
These days, Teest seemed like a real “Tahe” Player, the kind Nol hoped for—he left his troubles in reality behind and adventured freely in the beautiful fantasy city.
Nol wished he could greet him openly.
Hey, are you having fun? I hope you like my world.
Everything should’ve been like this. Nol touched the tips of Teest’s hair, which felt cold and smooth, and the reality of it was startling.
…What kind of person are you in reality? Are you studying or working? Do you have family waiting for you?
…Why do you insist on acting alone? Are you like me, fearful of the vast unknown?
Sadly, these were questions that the NPC “Mage Nol” couldn’t touch. If this matter was resolved smoothly, Nol hoped they could have a good talk.
“Hey, it’s you guys! What are you doing here?”
A voice filled with delight rang out. Chef Kurt, in a new uniform, was jogging over.
Teest woke up, shaking his head, and looked somewhat surprised at “Pillow” Nol.
“I’ve been looking for you two recently. Thank the Goddess, the Alva Merchant Group hired me!” Kurt beamed. “It’s all thanks to the two of you. I can’t express how grateful I am.”
“You’re welcome,” Teest replied, taking a bite of his crunchy peach.
“It’s so good to see you both. Lately, I’ve been meeting good people. Perhaps it’s my son watching over me from above.” Mr. Kurt wiped a tear from his eye, speaking softly. “Lord Swain is also a good person… He heard about my son and personally apologized to me. He even gave our family ten gold wheels as a parting gift.”
“I hope you can find Miss Swain. There will surely be a handsome reward!” he concluded.
Indeed, it surely would be handsome. However, compared to a “reward”, Nol thought it would be more like “hush money”, similar to the gold wheels the City Lord gifted Mr. Kurt.
As he was muttering to himself, Teest suddenly poked his back and glanced towards the flowerbed not far away—where the shrubs were densely packed and trimmed into regular spheres. Nol held his breath and felt the unmistakable presence of the breath of the living.
Someone was eavesdropping.
“This is all thanks to Teest,” Nol immediately said. “You two chat. I’ll go buy something to drink.”
He walked to a beverage stall near the bushes and bought three glasses of iced fruit juice. As the vendor was juicing, Nol suddenly walked straight into the bushes.
A small figure jumped like a cat and ran away. Nol recognized that silhouette—Hannah, the leader of the street urchins.
Why was she following them?
What they were doing might not be safe. They might be targeted by the Eternal Church. Not to mention that the Mad Monk might still be in the city. Even if the witch had suspicions about them, she wouldn’t let a child take such a risk.
With many questions in mind, Nol returned. Mr. Kurt and Teest had pretty much finished chatting—considering they didn’t have much to talk about—when Nol handed Mr. Kurt a glass of juice, and the three clinked their glasses together.
“In a short while, I’ll be leaving with the Alva Merchant Group,” Kurt said. “I hope we meet again! If you ever come to Grape Collar, do visit me.”
After the pleasantries, Mr. Kurt didn’t immediately head to the inn. He straightened his collar and walked back the way he came.
[He said he’s been very lucky recently and wants to go to the church to pray for his son,] Teest said, sipping his juice.
[We should also get moving soon,] Nol replied, also sipping through his straw.
Regardless of why Hannah was following them, he couldn’t just lock her up. Rather than wait and worry, it was better to act swiftly.
……
That night.
In a dark and spacious living room, two handsome youths were illuminated by the dim glow of a magic circle, along with a skeleton goat standing in the center. The scene looked quite eerie.
…Provided if one ignored what they were actually doing.
Teest held a black cloak in one hand and a small hunting knife in the other, ripping the edges of the cloak. Nol, on the other hand, was bargaining with the skeleton goat using a fresh cabbage.
“This is top-quality cabbage from a premium hotel,” Nol emphasized. “The leaves still have dew on them. There’s not a single dry spot!”
“Baa—”
“I know, asking for your skull is a bit much. But trust me, I’ll only take half, and it’ll grow back,” Nol tried to convince. “How about two cabbages?”
“Baa baa baa! Baa baa baa!”
“Four, and I’ll give you an extra one. Eat it on the spot? Of course.”
After munching on the four cabbages, the skeleton goat finally yielded. Nol held its coiled horns and separated the upper part of the skull.
The skeleton goat swayed its remaining part of its head and silently sank into the ground.
Nol quickly turned the skull into a mask using a prepared leather cord. Then, he took out fresh pig’s blood obtained from the kitchen and smeared it all over the skull, ensuring every bone crevice was soaked.
Around three in the morning, they finally finished their tasks.
Nol stripped off his clothes and put on the specially modified black cloak Teest made. He pulled up the hood and put on the goat skull mask.
His physical form was dispelled.
Blue flames suddenly lit up in the dark eye sockets of the skull.
“Wow,” Teest sincerely exclaimed.
“I’ll sew some phalanges on the robe later.” Nol finished putting on his skeleton gloves, then turned around. “How does it look, Sir Knight? Any other suggestions?”
“It’s perfect.” Teest touched his chin. “It’s just a bit plain. You need something to awe the City Lord… Ah, wait a moment.”
Teest hurried back to his room and returned with an ancient ruby necklace. It was their treasure obtained from the Lich’s dungeon, belonging to the “Nameless King”.
The old black robe, golden antiques, blood-like ruby, grayish goat horns, and goat bone mask—looking at himself in the mirror, Nol looked like a powerful elite monster. Even as the creator, he couldn’t spot any flaws.
Teest circled around, admiring and making sounds of appreciation.
In his eyes, the withered figure under the black robe quickly became plump. Soft black hair and pale skin appeared next to the goat bone mask. Instead of will-o’-wisps, the eye holes of the skull now had pupils glowing with a faint blue light.
Nol removed the mask, laughing genuinely from the heart. At this moment, he genuinely felt the joy of a “game”.
“That’ll do,” he said with a smile. “The mask smells strongly of cabbage on the inside. I’ll have to soak it in blood… Teest?”
Teest stood in front of Nol. His golden eyes were full of focus, just like the first day they met. This bewitching gaze was brief but intense, like a whip’s crack. It was so sudden that even after Teest hid it, Nol still felt chills for a second.
Then, Teest raised his right hand, slowly reaching out to Nol, moving as gently as if trying to catch a butterfly.
Nol could almost feel the warmth of Teest’s fingertips.
However, just a second before touching Nol’s cheek, Teest diverted his arm to grab the goat bone mask.
“I’ll take care of the cabbage smell,” Teest said, sounding as casual as ever.
The whole series of movements from Teest was so natural that Nol couldn’t help but question himself for a moment—was he overthinking it, or had he experienced an illusion?
Nol was certain that he had never known someone like Teest before. Based on their interactions over these days, it seemed like Teest didn’t know him either. Teest’s reaction just now felt more like he was looking through Nol, focusing on someone else not present.
…Whatever, better not to think about it.After all, it’s his personal matter.
Nol took off his hood, rubbed his face, and decided to add finger bone decorations to his robe.
The next day at midnight, the two sneaked into the City Lord’s mansion again. Behind the secret passage’s wall, Nol donned his hood. The finger bones at the collar clashed together, making a clicking sound—
Kinky Translations 