“If you have any hidden tricks left, now’s the time to use them,” Teest said.
Unfortunately, Nol had none.
They were too close, and the disparity in power was too vast. Nol couldn’t do anything in time. Teest seemed to know that escaping was pointless. He gripped his sword’s hilt tightly, his back tensing like a stone statue.
The creature was just steps away. They watched as it bent down and turned Mrs. Petty into a mound of flesh-colored sand. The gentle morning breeze didn’t stop, and soon the sand dispersed, swallowed up entirely by the grass.
Perhaps they would be next.
But the terrifying figure just folded its hands gracefully over its belly. As the last grain of sand was consumed by the grassland and the morning sun fully rose, the headless figure, like dew on the grass, disappeared with the night.
From start to finish, it had no interest in them.
The moment the creature vanished, both of them, like puppets whose strings had been cut, simultaneously collapsed.
“That thing looked like an undead creature. Do you know it?” Teest sheathed his “Betrayer” and simply laid down on the grass.
“Not all undead creatures know each other,” Nol said, staring at the spot where Mrs. Petty had disappeared, taking a while to respond.
All traces of Mrs. Petty’s existence were gone, leaving only the swaddling clothes covered in dirt on the grass.
Teest was silent for a moment, then naturally changed the subject. “If I remember correctly, there are two cities nearby—Dogtooth Bay to the southeast and Whitebird City to the southwest. They are better places to rest than small villages.”
Before Nol could respond, Teest continued, “I think Whitebird City sounds good.”
I’m not Petty! I’m Rebecca! Rebecca from Whitebird City!
The scream of Mrs. Petty echoed in Nol’s ears.
“Whitebird City it is,” he replied, his voice slightly hoarse.
Teest chuckled. “I thought so.”
Technically, Teest had known Mrs. Petty longer, but he didn’t seem upset at all. This wasn’t surprising, Nol thought. Some players simply didn’t care about NPCs’ lives, and perhaps Teest was one of them.
Traveling by foot by sunrise and skeletal horse by sunset, their pace was decent. But day after day, surrounded by almost indistinguishable meadows and hills, even beautiful scenery could become a nightmare.
Teest had resupplied at Mrs. Petty’s home. His bag was filled with smoked meat, cheese, pepper, and salt. They could get water through water spells, and if given a chance, he’d dig up starchy tubers or catch a rabbit or two.
With limited supplies, Nol simply stopped eating.
On the fourth sunset, the monotonous landscape finally came to an end.
A city appeared on the horizon, leaning against a vast green forest with two soaring peaks in the distance. The two mountains leaned on each other, snow outlining their curved profiles. Under the sunset, they connected, resembling a bird in flight.
The grass under their feet became sparse, revealing a road. At the end of the road stood a wooden sign that read “Whitebird City”. By the time they reached the sign, night had quietly fallen.
They were too close to the city, so Nol didn’t summon his skeletal horse. He passed the sign on foot, took a long breath, and looked up at the starry night sky.
This would be the first city he would encounter. He hoped to gather more information smoothly, and then…
Staring at the clear night sky, Nol’s thoughts came to a halt.
The twinkling stars were as usual, matching the game settings, but the moon—the moon was wrong.
Four full moons hung high in the sky.
They spread across different parts of the sky, all the same size. The moonlight was gentle, as always, but this nonsensical sight made one feel uneasy, sending shivers down the spine.
Nol looked pale. He slowly averted his eyes, pretending everything was normal.
“Near the Three Forks Road Village, there’s only one moon,” Teest mentioned casually. “Dragons used magic to twist the sky. They left only one moon to confuse those seeking the Dragon’s Lair… That’s what everyone says. Someone even wrote a song about it.”
“Nice story,” Nol said, feeling goosebumps form beneath his robe.
At times like this, he sincerely wished that the Lich’s “corporeal form” wasn’t so perfect.
……
Whitebird City was neither large nor small. It wasn’t so bustling that it left people astounded, yet it wasn’t as primitive and simple as Three Forks Road Village. Its “moderation” was just like its guardians—Nol and Teest, naturally, didn’t have any identification, let alone permission to enter the city. The city guards drew their swords but sheathed them again in the glow of gold wheels.
“If anyone asks, just say you lost your identification after entering the city,” the guard suggested, biting hard on a gold wheel to test its authenticity. “Like it was stolen along with your money pouch. There are plenty of thieves here, get my drift?”
“Of course,” Teest replied with a smile.
Satisfied, the guard put away the gold wheel, stroking his chin. “You two seem savvy, so I’ll give you a heads-up. It’s easy to enter Whitebird City, but hard to leave. Don’t blame me for not warning you—even a hundred thousand gold wheels won’t help those unfortunate souls who want to get out.”
Just as Nol was about to enter, he paused. “Easy to get in, but hard to get out?”
The guard didn’t reply, instead revealing a crooked smile with uneven teeth, looking primarily at Teest’s money pouch.
Teest gave a slight bow. “Thank you for your warning, kind sir.”
With that, he patted Nol’s back and calmly entered the city. The guard’s smile disappeared instantly. He glanced at Nol with disdain and spat in the direction Teest had gone.
“Ominous White Demon,” he cursed silently.
As night fell, the city was bustling. People gathered like sparrows in front of taverns and shops, chattering loudly. Bright lights were everywhere, combining with the flames to create an orange flood that spilled from every window and door. The distant lights were denser than golden osmanthus blossoms.
The city’s church displayed a snow-white clock tower. At the top, the green tiles shone like precious gems in the night.
There was litter on the streets, but it was mostly clean—thanks to the drainage system Nol had installed that was far superior to medieval standards.
Perhaps because it was nighttime, there were more young people on the streets than the elderly and children. The air was filled with music, laughter, sweat, spices, alcohol, and the rich scent of grilled sausages.
Were it not for the four full moons overhead, Nol would have felt entirely relaxed.
Teest headed straight to the busiest area, where there was a city bulletin board. They quickly gathered the information they needed.
“The daughter of the City Lord has been kidnapped by the Mad Monk!” people were saying. “Poor Lord Swain. He lost his wife long ago, now his daughter.”
“I’ve seen Miss Swain when I was trimming the garden at His Lordship’s house. By the gods, I’ve never seen such a graceful and beautiful lady. Such a pity.”
“Why would the Mad Monk come to Whitebird City? I thought he only liked big cities.”
“Damn! The City Lord is desperate enough to post this notice. What’s the Temple doing?”
……
The two squeezed their way to the bulletin board. Amidst the many notices, one stood out: A “missing person” flier.
In short, a notorious lunatic had kidnapped the City Lord’s only daughter. The heartbroken lord was willing to pay any price for her return.
“You see, the reason it’s easy to get in but hard to get out, free of charge,” Teest commented.
The city gates couldn’t stay closed forever, as people needed to make a living. They could use this opportunity to rest for a few days and gather information, so it wouldn’t be a complete waste of time. Nol stood in front of the missing person’s notice for a while longer because it reminded him too much of a game quest, and he had an occupational reflex to it.
As expected, as soon as he finished reading, a system prompt popped up.
[Rare Regional Quest: The Missing Lady]
[Normal Achievement Condition: Find the missing Margaret Swain (alive or dead).]
[Perfect Achievement Condition: Find the missing Margaret Swain (alive or dead); successfully spot the Mad Monk and report his physical features to the Temple of Life.]
[Rewards: Monetary reward [Normal]; Friendship of the Lord of Whitebird City [Normal]; Huge bounty for the Mad Monk [Perfect]; Friendship of the Temple of Life [Perfect]]
[Penalty for Failure: None]
[Accept the quest?]
Nol didn’t know who this Mad Monk was, but the quest seemed normal—various sidequests in “Tahe” were originally automatically generated by the AI.
Without hesitation, Nol chose “Yes”. He needed to test the game’s quest system… and assess his own situation.
To be honest, his current state was a bit peculiar. He couldn’t activate the Player system, and he probably wasn’t immortal. But he had some Player privileges, like understanding different languages and accepting quests and obtaining rewards, just like a Player.
The hidden dungeon of the Lich was too unique, making it hard to use as a reference. For testing purposes, this quest was just right. If, by chance, he succeeded, he could receive a monetary reward, compensating for the favors he owed to the Dragon Corpse Notebook.
By the time Nol finished, Teest had already been pushed far away.
Teest clearly had no interest in finding the missing person. He just glanced at it with mild interest and let the crowd push and shove him aside.
In the bright light, Teest’s silver hair was particularly conspicuous. Perhaps it was because his silky long hair stood out so much that people around him weren’t as rough.
Nol, with his black short hair, wasn’t as lucky. After withstanding several waves of the crowd and waving his arms, he finally “swam” back to Teest’s side. “Let’s find an inn first.”
Having grasped the situation in the city, Nol really didn’t want to stroll under four moons. He suddenly realized he might have a bit of astraphobia, as he now didn’t even want to lift his head.
“We can talk about it at the inn later. I have something to do.” Teest gripped Nol’s wrist, and the two finally escaped the crowd.
Nol raised an eyebrow, wearing his question openly on his face.
“…I need to go and cozy up to someone powerful first*,” Teest said.
*Hug a thigh. It’s a colloquialism referring to holding onto someone more powerful in order to gain benefits.
The author has something to say:
Nol: Don’t need friendship, just give me money ←
Teest: Doesn’t even need a quest ←
————————————
Realizing at this point, these two might be the richest characters I’ve started a story with so far.
Outside the window, the previously clear starry night became densely covered with dark clouds. The village plunged into a death-like silence, and even the chirping of insects stopped. Every household lit their candles simultaneously. Regardless of age or gender, everyone stood rigidly in front of their windows, expressionless.
Night blurred the colors. At a glance, people looked like portraits pasted on the wall. Nol recognized familiar faces among them—people who had nodded at him with smiles during the day. Now, they stared outside their windows without blinking, as if there was something in the void more important than their lives.
The moment the alarm sounded, Teest woke up almost immediately. He jumped up smoothly and put one hand on the Betrayer.
“Everyone’s gone? But I’m still…” Muttering halfway, Teest took a sharp breath and didn’t continue.
Nol also realized—under the curse’s influence, the system completely ignored the Player “Teest”.
The dark clouds in the sky continued to gather, changing from a deep lead gray to a suffocating black, as if the night sky had been torn open. A fog gradually arose in the village, and lovely wildflowers all sank into the milky base of the mist.
A lingering scent of grass remained in the breeze, but Nol smelled the scent of death amidst it. It was heavy and sickly sweet, mixed with the aroma of mud and rust.
He didn’t see anything, but a chill ran down his spine, and his hair stood on end.
“Run!” Nol decided immediately.
Teest grabbed his money pouch, already rushing to the door.
Unlike the oppressive feeling of the Lich, they instinctively knew that they couldn’t resist whatever was coming. Neither of them wanted to waste precious escape time out of mere curiosity.
Exiting through the back door of Mrs. Petty’s house, the stables were just a few steps away. If Nol remembered correctly, there were at least four horses in the stable. They should have enough time.
Teest, untroubled by the darkness, moved like a shadow across the living room, running swiftly and lightly. However, Nol slowed down—
Mrs. Petty stood by the window, dressed in her nightgown, tightly holding her baby. A dim candlelight flickered behind her. A fly landed on her face, slowly crawling over her moist eyeball.
Nol gritted his teeth, hesitated for a split second, then turned. He hoisted the tall Mrs. Petty onto his shoulders. Her body was still warm, her heart still beating, but she was rigid, like a mannequin from a store, as if her joints had lost the ability to bend.
The baby was held so tightly by Mrs. Petty that it seemed welded to her chest.
Carrying Mrs. Petty, Nol continued towards the back door.
Even if his attributes were suppressed by the curse, he was still a genuine “monster”. It wasn’t difficult to take two humans, let alone one of them was a baby.
Teest looked deeply at him, saying nothing.
Soon, they reached the stables.
Despite Teest’s frantic efforts—pulling at the reins and even stabbing the horses with the hunting knife—not a single horse moved. Just like the villagers, the horses stood as if enchanted, all staring in the same direction. The night was thick, and their huge pupils were devoid of light.
Teest shook off the blood from his knife and said sarcastically, “What now, run on foot?”
‘There’s enough time,’ Nol thought.
“That thing” was already getting closer. Now they both could see it—it wasn’t moving but rather frequently blinking short distances.
A massive figure enveloped in fog stood out. It was about five meters tall, its silhouette resembling a headless slender girl in a skirt. The houses in the mountain village were mostly rough wooden structures. Compared to this giant headless figure, they looked like adorable toys used in a child’s pretend game.
The figure in the fog extended its long arms. Its ghostly hands passed through the walls, caressing the stunned villagers. Nol couldn’t clearly see the true form of the figure, but he could see the fate of those it touched—
With just a slight touch, the villagers turned into flesh-colored rubble in an instant. The colors of bones, flesh, and hair remained, mixing together and crashing to the ground.
The headless figure swayed, appearing at one house and then another in the next second. It methodically destroyed the village, ensuring not to miss any newborn or elderly.
As people disappeared one after another, the lights in their houses went out, leaving only window holes that looked like skull eye sockets.
We need a solution… We need to think of a solution.
Nol bit his lip, covered in cold sweat. He put down Mrs. Petty and took out the Dragon Corpse Notebook pinned to his waist. He then bit his finger and began scribbling on the blank pages.
“…What are you doing?” Teest’s voice was hoarse.
“I’m not sure,” Nol said rapidly, no longer bothering to hide his eyes that shone with an inhuman blue light. “You can run first.”
Teest was silent for a few seconds, crossing his arms. He didn’t speak or run. He just leaned against a pillar in the stable, waiting quietly.
Nol attempted to depict the “short distance teleportation” spell from the game. Instead of runes or magic circles, he used programming information.
He understood the underlying logic of these spells and even knew the algorithm the developers use for pseudo-random numbers—all the healing and fireball spells he used before were outside the skill list of undead monsters, but he hacked them out by using this method.
The higher the magic level, the more complex the algorithm. With limited conditions, Nol could only reproduce the simplest spells. Honestly, “short distance teleportation” wasn’t simple, but it was their best choice right now. “Flight” and “long distance teleportation” were overwhelmingly complex.
After completing the “short distance teleportation” with three pages of blood writing, the programming language automatically turned into runes, forming a complex and beautiful magic circle. He looked up and saw that two-thirds of the houses in the village had already gone dark.
He took a deep breath and activated the magic circle.
Insufficient mana. Activation failed.
“……”
Damn it. He had hoped the Dragon Corpse Notebook itself would be excellent casting material and might make up for the mana deficit.
The system wasn’t that flexible.
Without wasting time on regret, Nol began to write again. Just as he was trying to modify the algorithm for “short distance teleportation”, the system voice echoed in his ears—
[Warning! Warning! Modifying game settings is strictly prohibited!]
At this moment, only a few houses in the village still had lights on.
Nol almost cursed out loud.
It was the simplest teleportation magic, yet he didn’t have the mana and couldn’t modify it. Letting Teest cast it wasn’t an option; Nol was well aware of the “intelligence” of a Fallen Knight. If Teest cast it, they would teleport only a few hundred meters at most, which was no better than running.
Stay calm. It’s just a problem.
Like the Lich Valdorlock… Valdorlock?
“Valdorlock is a Lich, so why doesn’t he have necromancy as a skill?” An artist colleague once asked.
“It’s sensitive, given he’s a professional class boss. We have to consider Players of all age groups… I wish he had necromancy, but flesh and corpses are too sensitive, easily subject to complaints,” he had replied then.
“Well, it seems we won’t have any necromancers in ‘Tahe’.”
Screw the complaints.
Nol pressed down with his bloody finger and quickly wrote a new spell.
Having structured the framework and clarified the computing logic. The most important thing was that this spell prioritized drawing magic from the medium of the magic circle. As long as the material was sufficient, the caster only needed to provide one mana to activate.
Blood writing twisted again, forming a new magic circle. Its lines were distorted, looking somewhat eerie. The next moment, the magic circle was activated, and a dim blue light spread over the nearby ground.
Pale horse bones emerged from the ground; their empty eye sockets lit with ghostly flames. Under the moonlight, two skeletal horses walked slowly towards Nol, bowing their heads in submission.
In the village, there was only one house left with lights on.
Teest stared at Nol in shock, his mouth agape, but in the end, he swallowed all his doubts. He swiftly mounted his horse and gave it a hard slap on its rear. The skeletal horse’s eyes shone bright blue as it raised its forehoof, emitting a rough neigh, and dashed out like an arrow.
Nol hoisted Mrs. Petty with one arm and likewise mounted the other horse.
The skeletal horse was much faster than a living one. Its hooves lightly grazed the grass tips. With the wind rushing past, the surroundings quickly receded.
The two tacitly spurred their horses southward. The Three Forks Road Village was quickly left behind, but neither dared to stop—not until they had crossed several low mountains and the little novice village completely disappeared from view.
The eastern sky began to brighten, with the sun about to rise. The two skeletal horses watched the horizon warily, their hooves restless. As low-level undead creatures, they would be instantly destroyed by sunlight.
The two had to dismount. As soon as their feet touched the ground, the skeletal horses quickly disintegrated into bones and sank into the ground like shadows.
Teest leaned over, gasping for breath. Nol carefully laid Mrs. Petty on the grass. Her eyes were still wide open, but her body wasn’t as stiff.
“Everyone has their little secrets… but honey, you have too many.” Teest panted out of breath as he tucked a strand of his messy hair behind his ear.
“Thanks for the compliment,” Nol replied, unceremoniously sitting on the grass.
Teest looked at him silently. “Don’t you have anything to explain?”
“No,” Nol said straightforwardly. “Anyway, you’re not going to spend your life with me. We’ll part ways soon.”
“Alright.” Teest shrugged, politely ending the topic.
“But if it’s really necessary…” Before Nol could finish, a woman’s wail interrupted him.
Mrs. Petty had somehow regained consciousness. She sat slumped on the ground, and the swaddle fell to the side. The swaddle was devoid of any baby, only dry, crumbled clumps of soil remained.
However, Mrs. Petty didn’t even look at the swaddle. She stared straight at Nol and Teest, her eyes filled with fear.
It wasn’t the panic of an adult survivor. Her gaze was so pure that it was eerie—fitting a five- or six-year-old girl, not a woman in her mid-thirties.
Teest immediately stood up and gripped the Betrayer tightly.
“Who are you? Where am I? Dad! Mom!” Mrs. Petty cried out shrilly, patting the ground. “Dad, Mom—help me! Help me! Wah—!”
She patted the swaddle beside her, causing the dirt clumps to scatter.
The scene was too terrifying that it took Nol a moment to respond. “Mrs. Petty…?”
“Who’s Petty? I’m not Petty! I’m Rebecca! Rebecca from Whitebird City!”
She scooted back a couple of steps. Her red hair was a mess, and she started screaming defensively, “…Don’t come any closer. My father’s a merchant. He’s rich. He’ll hire people to deal with you!”
Whitebird City was a city-state in the game, so she wasn’t his neighbor after all, Nol thought bitterly.
He took a couple of steps back, speaking softly. “Rebecca, right? Don’t be afraid, we mean no harm.”
“Mage, come here,” Teest said.
“She’s just frightened,” Nol replied. “She might know something…”
“Come here.”
Teest’s tone was tense, and he quickly approached, grabbing the back of Nol’s collar and pulling him several steps back. He then positioned himself in front of Nol, with the Betrayer now in the form of a longsword.
“Fog’s coming in,” Teest said, holding his sword tightly, his golden eyes fixed on the spot behind Mrs. Petty. “There’s fog rising from the meadow.”
Nol remained silent.
Amidst the warm dawn, a fog mysteriously rose from the grassland. The fog grew denser and concentrated at one spot. The air rippled familiarly, and a figure obscured by the thick fog appeared behind Mrs. Petty.
A tall, slender, headless girl.
She extended her fog-wrapped arm and gently touched Mrs. Petty’s head.
The author has something to say:
Experiencing VR games with skeletons and zombies is truly terrifying, man. At least for me, someone who adores regular horror games, it’s just too much.
Levels of horror sensation: Third-person horror game < First-person horror game <<< VR horror game.
In the back seat of the car, Xing Conglian held Lin Chen’s hand.
Just a moment ago, after Mr. Lin, the head of the family, suddenly descended on Zhourui Pharmaceutical and disrupted all his plans, he started to deal with the situation swiftly.
Lin Chen first handed the old man over to Dr. Zheng, asked Huang Ze to take the two of them to the hospital, and gave Wang Chao twenty yuan to take a taxi back to Yanjia Lane. Then, he and Xing Conglian got into the nursing home car that brought Lin Chen here.
As soon as they got in the car, Lin Chen took off his shoes and leaned against him, frowning lightly. It seemed that the discomfort in his body made it difficult for him to sit still. Xing Conglian felt unexpectedly soft-hearted and swallowed the second half of his sentence.
But Lin Chen didn’t seem to pay any attention to that statement. Instead, he simply said “Please” to the driver.
The extremely astute driver didn’t look sideways and raised the front and rear seat partitions and window blinds, making the backseat space dim.
Before Xing Conglian could react, he heard Lin Chen’s soft voice saying, “Come here.”
That phrase sounded somewhat familiar. Xing Conglian slightly lowered his head and turned towards Lin Chen’s position, only to be forcibly pulled by his neck and pressed down.
Lin Chen’s breath sprayed against his cheek, followed by warm lips. Lin Chen decisively pried open his teeth and kissed him earnestly.
Xing Conglian embraced Lin Chen’s waist, responding to his kiss while feeling that the situation was a bit off.
Taking advantage of the moment when the angle changed, he skillfully switched positions with Lin Chen, laying him flat on the seat. Then, he consciously unbuttoned Lin Chen’s shirt, caressed his earlobe with one hand, and kissed from behind his ear to his neck.
Lin Chen’s breathing became rapid, and his pulse raced. His gasps carried a hint of sweetness.
However, Xing Conglian keenly noticed that Lin Chen’s hand, which was originally hooked around his neck, had moved to his chest, as if ready to push him away at any moment of uncontrollable circumstances.
Detecting this, Xing Conglian grabbed his wrist, licked his ear, and blew gently.
Lin Chen shrank sensitively. Taking this opportunity, Xing Conglian quickly pulled his hand over his head. He then leaned close to his ear and said, “Mr. Lin, resisting and welcoming is not a good idea.”
Lin Chen raised his legs to gently touch his lower body that was being pressed down, and then he kissed the tip of his nose, saying very gently, “Captain Xing, it’s about enough.”
“We’re still far from enough.” Xing Conglian held onto Lin Chen’s waist and prepared to kiss him again.
“I’ll say one word, and you’ll let go of me.” Lin Chen’s voice became wet and ambiguous amidst the kiss.
“You can try.”
“Pain.”
Indeed, one word was enough.
Xing Conglian immediately released him, sat back in his own seat, and reached out to turn on the reading light.
Lin Chen lay on the black seat while his chest rose and fell. His lips were kissed red, and his neck and collarbone were adorned with love marks and damp spots, making him look… enticing…
Xing Conglian looked at him and couldn’t help but bend down to kiss the corner of his mouth.
Lin Chen retracted his legs, sat up while holding onto the car door, and began buttoning up his shirt.
With his head lowered, his neck elongated under the pale yellow light, displaying a graceful posture.
Xing Conglian held his hand and placed it beside him, then pinched the shirt front and meticulously buttoned up each button that he had previously undone.
After finishing all this, when he looked up, he found Lin Chen gazing at him, with a calm and affectionate look in his eyes.
“Why did you spend three hours bringing me to the recuperation center?” Lin Chen asked him under the reading light.
This opening question felt a bit like an interrogation. Xing Conglian was unsure how much Lin Chen remembered from last night’s events, but he could only honestly answer, “Because I was angry.”
“Angry at whom?” Lin Chen’s serene voice sounded in the dimly lit space.
Xing Conglian opened his arms and embraced Lin Chen. His chin rested against Lin Chen’s neck, and his voice was muffled. “Of course, myself, Consultant Lin.”
“Why?”
“It’s hard to say.” Xing Conglian simply held onto Lin Chen, feeling his body become softer in his embrace.
“Take your time, I’m listening.”
Lin Chen’s gentle voice was irresistible, and there was almost no environmental noise in the car, creating a very quiet atmosphere.
“Suddenly, I realized that you love me more than I imagined,” Xing Conglian said. “I feel foolish and regret missing out on so much time.”
“You didn’t miss out if you’ve experienced it,” Lin Chen interrupted him.
“I feel guilty,” he said.
“And then you go and torment me like that?” Lin Chen created some distance between them and looked at him with a smile.
Xing Conglian felt like an inexperienced youngster, unable to provide the correct answer to his lover’s questioning. What did the online guides say? He should immediately bow his head and apologize, but it seemed that apologizing wasn’t the right thing to do either. Xing Conglian racked his brains, almost resorting to asking for advice from internet users on his phone.
Finally, Lin Chen let out a long sigh, looked at him, and said, “I’m sorry.”
Xing Conglian was stunned. He didn’t expect the answer to be like this. He didn’t believe that Lin Chen needed to apologize at all. Just as he was about to speak, Lin Chen looked directly into his eyes and said, “Although my memories are jumbled, I still remember a little from last night. Regarding what happened last night, I want to address two main points.”
“Please, go ahead.”
“First, even though your techniques may not be very strong and all over the place, we still have to take responsibility for each other and practice diligently in the future.”
Lin Chen’s words were spoken slowly, making Xing Conglian’s heart feel like it was on a roller coaster, fluctuating between highs and lows, almost getting thrown off by a drift.
“Consultant Lin, you have to listen to my explanation,” Xing Conglian immediately said, but he felt it wasn’t right and could only continue, “I will work hard. Please provide me with more opportunities to practice. Don’t always act sickly and make me feel like a beast.”
Lin Chen nodded solemnly and replied, “Approved. The organization will also make efforts for rehabilitation.”
Xing Conglian smiled, rubbing the back of Lin Chen’s head, finding him incredibly adorable.
But Lin Chen looked at him with deep eyes. The words Xing Conglian wanted to say got stuck in his throat as he heard Lin Chen say, “The second matter, I genuinely apologize to you. Please accept it.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Listen to me.” Lin Chen paused and insisted, “Although I love you very much and always want to do my best, in reality, by doing so, I have been increasing your burden.” Lin Chen created some distance between them, maintaining their conversational posture. “You are a very good person. The reason you are in so much pain is that you suddenly realize you owe me too much. You feel like you haven’t fully understood my intentions, and you constantly see me making sacrifices for you, but you may not have time to repay me. The accumulation of these things has caused you to lose control.”
Lin Chen analyzed the situation very calmly, and Xing Conglian stopped smiling and simply listened to him speak.
“However, looking at it from a different perspective, all of this is caused by me. Sometimes, being too kind to others without giving them the chance to reciprocate can indeed create a significant psychological burden for kind-hearted people.”
“No, I believe this is a problem that both of us have.” Lin Chen kissed the back of his hand and said, “When we’re in a relationship, we’re always too polite to each other.”
Xing Conglian was taken aback. He had never considered the issue of being “polite”.
“While it’s good to show respect, it can also create too much distance. We dare not express our true feelings, always wanting to take good care of each other. Accepting a little love makes us feel like it’s a huge need for repayment, which is not entirely correct.”
Xing Conglian looked at the clear and serene gaze hidden beneath Lin Chen’s eyelashes. Every word he said was a heartfelt confession, and Xing Conglian fell into contemplation. Lin Chen’s words were meant for him to hear, but he was also speaking for himself.
“So how should we solve it, Consultant Lin?”
“I think we both need to be a bit willful.”
Lin Chen was very serious, and upon hearing this, Xing Conglian couldn’t help but laugh.
“For example, you bringing me to the seaside recuperation center in the middle of the night, spending three hours on it—I think that’s very willful, and it’s good.” Lin Chen said, “You didn’t treat me as a stranger. You felt that you could make better choices for me, and it was necessary for me to receive better care. I really like such gestures.”
Xing Conglian was speechless. Honestly, he didn’t think there was anyone in the world who could be so eloquent when facing Lin Chen.
He could only nod awkwardly and then say, “So, Consultant Lin, are you also using willfulness to repay me?”
“I really wanted to wait for you there, but I encountered some unexpected circumstances and had to come find you. But we can discuss that matter when we get home. Bringing it up now would ruin the atmosphere,” Lin Chen said. “So I used your car and medical personnel. I don’t think I need to inform you about that. The driver is good, and I want to keep Dr. Zheng by my side to take care of me. I probably won’t be able to return to that bed for a short time.”
“Of course, you have the final say,” Xing Conglian said without hesitation. “What else do you need? Shall I buy Tzu Chi?”
“Money can solve small matters,” Lin Chen finally smiled and replied. “No need. I want to go home. Please try to avoid leaving me in the hospital in the future.”
Lin Chen’s tone had a hint of commanding manner, but Xing Conglian felt extremely content listening to him. He understood a bit about the significance of Lin Chen’s conversation regarding “politeness” and “willfulness”. But all he could do was hold Lin Chen tightly once again, grateful for his good fortune.
The car had slowly come to a stop, and Xing Conglian felt reluctant to leave the warmth of the moment. He even wondered if, in accordance with the willful approach, he should dismiss the driver and continue the actions from before when Lin Chen pushed him away.
However, Consultant Lin clearly understood the essence of “willfulness” better than he did. Lin Chen grabbed his hair, gave him a kiss, and casually opened the car door, starting to put on his shoes.
The bright sunlight poured in, highlighting Lin Chen’s refined features and giving him a commanding appearance as the head of the household.
As expected, the driver seemed to have received some signal and slowly lowered the partition. Xing Conglian stared at him through the rearview mirror, but the driver, wearing sunglasses, acted as if he hadn’t seen his protesting gaze at all.
After putting on his shoes, Lin Chen quickly got out of the car. However, as if he remembered something, he suddenly turned back and looked at Xing Conglian. “Xing Conglian.”
“Yes,” Xing Conglian promptly responded.
“Although I am the head of the household,” Lin Chen leaned halfway into the car, saying straightforwardly, “You can have complete authority.”
Xing Conglian looked at Lin Chen’s face and had a strong desire to go back and buy Zhourui Pharmaceutical all over again.
When Lin Chen woke up, he was surprised by the environment he found himself in.
As he realized that he could react with surprise to his surroundings, it indicated that he had recovered somewhat from his disordered mental state.
He lay on a hospital bed that was as white and soft as a cloud. Outside the window, there was a vast blue sea, and the morning sunlight turned the surface of the sea into a flawless, pure color. Everything seemed boundless and immense, making humanity appear tiny like specks of dust and allowing many important matters to drift away with the wind.
This magnificent scenery was perfect for relaxation and recuperation. However, Hongjing wasn’t located near the sea, and apart from Xing Conglian, no one else could find a similar privileged place. But Xing Conglian wasn’t the type to go against his own will in urgent situations.
So, what had happened during the time when he had experienced mental problems? Lin Chen pondered for a moment, feeling a splitting headache. It was a very melodramatic ailment, but it was undeniably real. He felt that he couldn’t concentrate his thoughts, so he exerted some effort to force himself to avert his gaze from the view outside the window.
He rubbed his forehead and attempted to sit up, but soon realized that something was off with his body.
The soreness in his muscles and joints couldn’t be faked. What was more, just because he hadn’t eaten pork didn’t mean he hadn’t seen a pig run*. In any case, Lin Chen’s initial reaction was that Xing Conglian was a bit beastly or had some peculiar preferences. The key issue was that his technique really wasn’t good…
*Proverb referring to not having experienced things personally but have heard of them, seen them, and have a little understanding.
As Lin Chen thought about this, even the simple act of sitting up felt unbearable.
The entire hospital room was spacious, and Xing Conglian wasn’t present. The sunlight outside the window became glaring, and he couldn’t help but close his eyes.
……
Zheng Gong was the doctor in charge of monitoring Room 801. From the moment Lin Chen woke up, he had been observing the patient’s reactions.
To be honest, Lin Chen appeared surprisingly calm for someone who had just arrived here for the first time.
He watched as Lin Chen woke up and looked towards the sea, showing a relaxed and serene expression. Zheng Gong knew that the mental state of this important patient had improved somewhat.
He ticked off a few boxes on his tablet, then looked up, realizing that the patient was attempting to sit up.
As trained professionals, they wouldn’t rush in like enthusiastic healthcare workers to help someone sit up quickly. Zheng Gong carefully observed Lin Chen’s body movements and found that, apart from slightly delayed reactions, there was no coordination issue with Lin Chen’s physical movements.
Just as he made this judgment, he saw Lin Chen suddenly close his eyes.
The young man on the hospital bed furrowed his brows, gripping his forehead tightly, as if experiencing fragmented flashback scenes, appearing confused and in pain.
Zheng Gong immediately entered the room, wearing a stethoscope as he approached Lin Chen’s bed. He tentatively called out to him twice, but Lin Chen didn’t react immediately.
“Lin Chen, can you hear me?” he repeated.
At this moment, the patient on the bed opened his eyes, appearing clear-minded and determined.
“I can hear you clearly,” Lin Chen managed to squeeze out these words with some difficulty.
“Sir, I’m handling some matters, and I will take care of you,” Zheng Gong concisely stated. “Now, I need to conduct some examinations for you.”
To his surprise, Lin Chen didn’t show any resistance or ask for a detailed account of the cause and result. He simply nodded, appearing very calm and understanding.
“Understood, thank you,” Lin Chen said, lying back down and looking up at him. “Could you please hand me my phone?”
Zheng Gong nodded and noticed an ordinary-looking phone next to the flower vase on the bedside table. The color of the purple daisies was beautiful.
He picked up the phone and placed it in front of Lin Chen. “Is this it?”
“Yes.” Lin Chen took the phone, nodded in gratitude, and moved his fingers on the screen. Zheng Gong thought that he was probably going to call the big boss.
But just then, he noticed that Lin Chen’s fingers suddenly paused, as if he had seen some important message. Lin Chen’s gaze became resolute.
……
Xing Conglian quickly descended the stairs.
Whether it was Wang Chao or Huang Ze, or even the old man carrying the urine bag, they annoyingly followed behind him, constantly asking where he was going. But Xing Conglian didn’t want to listen to any of them.
The text message on his phone showed that Lin Chen had woken up over two hours ago, but he had been busy dealing with Zhourui and hadn’t seen this message.
The fact that Lin Chen woke up when he wasn’t there was completely unexpected.
He was now extremely agitated, and the voices behind him became even more unbearable.
“Boss, wait for me, I have something to tell you!” Wang Chao shouted.
“Don’t think I don’t know, Xing Conglian. Why do you want to buy Zhourui!” In the empty stairwell, Huang Ze asked him loudly, “Why are you doing this? Do you know that your behavior is unbecoming?”
Not only that, but the old man he casually brought along had also become a big trouble as he hurried to reach Lin Chen’s side.
“I’ll buy it if you want me to, but you’ll have to allocate funds for personnel. Give me your Xiao Liu. I’ve had my eye on him for a long time,” the old man said, chasing after him like this. “But first, you have to take me to the hospital. I didn’t bring any money when I left!”
Xing Conglian was being chased by these three individuals, and when he reached the fire door in the stairwell on the first floor, he suddenly stopped and turned around, looking at the three people behind him.
He patted Huang Ze’s shoulder first. “Does it have anything to do with you what I’m going to do? Moreover, I just realized that, Inspector Huang, you have a strong old lady attribute. In that case, please take care of this old man for me.”
He looked at the old man and pointed at Huang Ze, saying to the old man, “If you need anything, ask him. His family is very wealthy.”
“What about me, Boss!” Wang Chao interrupted. “Give me a chance to speak.”
“As for you…” Xing Conglian looked at Wang Chao. “Whether it’s the end of the world or an alien invasion, you better have something important to say.”
“I really do have something—no wait, it’s not me, something is happening on the internet!” Wang Chao was so flustered that he couldn’t even speak properly.
Xing Conglian opened the fire door in the stairwell and stepped into the lobby. “You have one minute from here to the outside.”
“That’s how it is, Boss,” Wang Chao said. “I’ve been monitoring the Deep Web. Although it’s difficult to monitor, well-known underground forums are within my control… ” Comrade Xiao Wang proudly stated.
“Get to the point.”
“Just now, I discovered that these underground forums have seen a surge in new users. They seem to be inquiring about something, and there may be a major event happening in the Deep Web.” Wang Chao swallowed his saliva but didn’t dare to pause for too long. “More importantly, in some reply threads, there are regional maps of Hongjing and neighboring provinces in our country. I don’t understand the language, and the translations are a mess. Can you take a look and see what’s happening, and if it’s related to our case here?”
When Wang Chao said the last sentence, Xing Conglian knew that he wouldn’t be able to rush to Lin Chen’s side immediately.
He turned around, grabbed Wang Chao’s ear, and questioned him, “You’re not usually this proactive in your work. What would happen if you told me a minute later? Would the world be destroyed?”
But Wang Chao’s reaction surprised Xing Conglian. The young man wasn’t looking at him but seemed to be staring in astonishment behind him at the lobby lounge.
“What’s wrong? Is something happening again?” Xing Conglian furrowed his brows. “Can you stop being so jumpy?”
Wang Chao opened his mouth, pointed behind him, but couldn’t say a word.
Xing Conglian slowly turned around and saw a slender figure.
Wearing a white shirt, black pants, and matching canvas shoes, the person stood by the sofa in the lobby, calmly looking at him.
It was Lin Chen.
Xing Conglian’s first reaction was embarrassment. After the first night with a lover, everything should be normal, from kissing to saying “I love you”. There was nothing wrong with the script.
Moreover, he had put Lin Chen through so much trouble. The floor-to-ceiling window he had prepared, and the vast sea view were all meant to alleviate the awkwardness of this moment when Lin Chen woke up.
But in the current situation, he certainly couldn’t rush over and embrace Lin Chen for a kiss. Besides, the way Lin Chen was looking at him now, calm and indifferent, made it difficult for him to determine what kind of attitude Lin Chen had toward him.
Xing Conglian had never felt so uncertain before. The fear of losing something must be one of the side effects of being in love.
His heart was beating very fast, and there were only a few dozen meters between him and Lin Chen, but for him, it was undoubtedly one of the most anxious moments in his life.
But in the current situation, he certainly couldn’t rush over and embrace Lin Chen for a kiss. Moreover, the way Lin Chen was looking at him now, calm and indifferent, made it difficult for him to determine what kind of attitude Lin Chen had toward him.
Xing Conglian had never felt so uncertain before. The fear of losing something must be one of the side effects of being in love.
His heart was beating very fast, and there were only a few dozen meters between him and Lin Chen, but for him, it was undoubtedly one of the most anxious moments in his life.
He was extremely nervous, but unconsciously, he had already started walking towards Lin Chen.
Just then, he suddenly felt that something was amiss around him. He stood still and turned around, almost colliding with Wang Chao behind him.
Not only that, Huang Ze and the old man were also following closely behind him, one on each side.
These three individuals simply wouldn’t leave him alone.
Xing Conglian took a step back, creating some distance between himself and these people. He pointed at them and warned, “Stay right here. Don’t move, don’t follow.”
After saying that, he turned to leave, but he still felt uneasy. He abruptly turned back, staring at the three individuals behind him who were leaning forward, “Dare to come closer, and I’ll kill you.”
Zheng Gong stood by Lin Chen’s side and experienced a similar awkward situation as Xing Conglian.
He saw the boss preventing others from approaching and felt that he should take the opportunity to leave, like the driver, Master Li, who had already disappeared.
But if he left now, would it seem too obvious?
Just as he hesitated, the boss was already standing in front of him.
He quickly lowered his head, only to hear the boss ask in a gentle voice, dripping with tenderness, “Why did you come here? Is your body alright?”
Of course, these words weren’t meant for him, but he couldn’t help but shiver uncontrollably. That soft voice made goosebumps rise all over his body.
Zheng Gong took a step back, feeling that he shouldn’t hesitate and should slip away immediately. But just then, the boss’s tone changed, coldly saying, “Did you bring him here?”
Such a cold remark was undoubtedly directed at him. The boss could change his demeanor in an instant. But in the current situation, anything he said would be wrong.
He stiffly raised his head, wanting to explain, but Lin Chen took a step forward, stood in front of him, and said very chivalrously, “I asked them for help.”
Zheng Gong felt like the current situation was simply repeating in a cheesy TV drama. It seemed amusing when he watched it while eating melon seeds and watching TV, but going through it himself was agonizing.
Sure enough, Lin Chen still looked weak. Xing Conglian wouldn’t get angry with Lin Chen; he would only take it out on them.
“Why didn’t you inform me before coming here!” Xing Conglian said.
“Because I told them that I am the one in charge of family matters,” Lin Chen said gently.
In nearly a thousand years, Qi Xin had never tasted “Panic”. But now, her mouth was filled with the bitter taste of panic.
After a Primordial Elemental matured, it accumulated the corresponding emotion within itself. It was like certain marine organisms in the human world that extract toxins from their food and accumulate them within their bodies.
For Elementals, this was an important means of controlling emotions. The entire process didn’t require subjective consciousness to participate—just like how humans cry when they’re in pain and laugh when they’re happy—it was the most basic instinct.
So if Yin Ren was just “Fear” with a slightly peculiar appearance, there would undoubtedly be a buildup of fear within him.
But Qi Xin couldn’t taste it.
She carefully chewed on that piece of flesh, and the fear in her heart grew stronger with each bite. That fear didn’t seep out from the flesh; it grew from the depths of her own heart, spreading wildly.
Qi Xin did sense a power close to that of a Primordial Elemental, but she couldn’t discern any emotions.
Yin Ren could devour Elementals, but he had never displayed the innate power of “Fear” in any battle. This cub tore and dragged its way through life, relying solely on the “destruction” ability that belonged to Fear.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
Qi Xin clenched the wings tightly, and the wings tensed up as if they were trying to fight her.
“Yin Ren, what exactly are you?”
As she asked the question, two answers had already formed in Qi Xin’s mind.
The first one was a naturally mutated and deformed Fear.
Qi Xin had assumed that once Yin Ren matured, he would be able to unleash “Fear” in battle. Although Yin Ren had obtained immunity to emotions, he didn’t possess the ability to “instill fear in all things”. As for what other potential this guy might still have, Qi Xin had no idea.
In this case, Yin Ren could at least be considered a Primordial Elemental. Oh, how she wished it were true.
The second possibility was that Yin Ren was something that had never appeared before—born through the human world, an unknown shadow lurking in the dark.
He reminded her of a cuckoo bird*—a “foreign object” that infiltrated among its kind, destroying and plundering its surroundings as a child, deliberately obtaining guidance from the great Elementals before taking flight.
*Clarity: Some cuckoo birds are brood parasites that lay their eggs in the nests of other species. The chicks are then taken care of by the host’s nest and raised until they can survive on their own.
This possibility made Qi Xin extremely uneasy.
Since the human world could give birth to pests like the Charon, it wasn’t impossible for it to give birth to extremely bizarre monsters. After all, Old Fear only changed its form but still existed in essence, far from being considered “degraded”.
As long as Zhong Chengshuo’s daily needs were met and the quality of life improved, Old Fear couldn’t unleash its true form. In exchange, it gained the ability to roam both sides and an immortal physique. Those pitch-black eyes still retained the unique authority of “Fear”.
But what if the Fear from the Other Side had always been present?
What exactly was this monster before her, born from the flesh and blood that absorbed Fear? It had just completed one transformation, but what would it become afterward?
[What am I?]
To make matters worse, Yin Ren, her opponent, responded quickly. This time, his thoughts carried a hint of amusement.
[A thousand years ago, I wasn’t quite sure. And now, I’m still not quite sure. Shouldn’t you be the one teaching me about this?]
The clump of wings writhed in Qi Xin’s hand. When it was in Zhong Chengshuo’s hands, it would only flatten into a soft and warm bundle, but now it felt like a hot iron, hissing and corroding Qi Xin’s palm.
[But it’s not a big deal. We can put it aside for now. It’s time for you to teach me how to “find people”.]
Before Qi Xin could reply, Yin Ren continued on his own. He used the clump of wings to send Gao Mengyu’s cat back to the courtyard, and the red veil on the sea of wings still fluttered and swayed like a transparent tide.
[I’m counting on you, senior.] He said. [At this point, there’s no turning back for you and me.]
……
During this period, “Fear” wasn’t idle either.
Zhong Chengshuo sat to the side, focusing on watching Meng Huai give a small class to the three cultivators, Ge Tingting, Huang Jin, and Fu Tianyi. Dr. Cat and Lu Xiaohe were busy confirming the details of the operation with Xiao Zheng—logically speaking, that should have been Zhong Chengshuo’s job.
Comrade Xiao Zhong, who had always been dedicated to his work, finally rebelled for once.
He listened attentively to Meng Huai’s explanation of mixing flesh and blood and the little tricks of using the repulsion. From time to time, he recorded carefully on a piece of imaginary paper and pen, looking as serious as a junior high school student on their first day of school.
“Things imagined cannot harm Elementals. But if you mix them with prepared flesh and blood, they can be useful.”
Meng Huai scribbled on the whiteboard.
“Just like Chengfeng’s gun—she’s familiar with the internal structure and operational principles of firearms. As long as she uses blended flesh and blood instead of gunpowder, she can use it to attack. But since you don’t have a deep understanding of the structure and feel of firearms, it’s difficult for you to imagine it precisely, so this technique won’t work for you.”
“Next, you need to imagine the weapons you’re skilled with and enchant them with the Elemental’s flesh and blood—failure is fine, we can separate the flesh and blood without wasting it…”
Zhong Chengshuo listened attentively, recording every word in his notebook with neat handwriting.
“Little brother, you can’t take the things you imagine with you.” Zhong Chengfeng sat down next to her supposed younger brother.
Compared to when they first met, this policewoman had become more cheerful and talkative.
Her younger brother had a handsome appearance and was clearly a well-behaved child. He definitely wouldn’t encounter the kind of trouble she did in the police station. Although her younger brother’s physical age was older than hers, fortunately, he didn’t exude a sense of age in his appearance, which made Zhong Chengfeng feel at ease.
It had been close to thirty years since she had taken care of her parents. Even though Zhong Chengshuo had directly declared his “adopted son” status, Zhong Chengfeng still showed a concern that seemed blood-related.
“I’m used to taking notes. It helps me organize my thoughts,” Zhong Chengshuo obediently replied.
Zhong Chengfeng clicked her tongue. “You’re truly the ideal obedient child for our parents. When I used to sit quietly at my desk for half an hour, they would burn incense in gratitude. It’s good that you’re saving them the worry.”
“They have always missed you,” Zhong Chengshuo said honestly.
Zhong Chengfeng paused, and her expression suddenly filled with a hint of bitterness. “…I know.”
Her gaze shifted to her own knees, and she fell into a brief silence. Zhong Chengshuo decided to bring up a topic to strengthen their familial relationship.
“Actually, recently, I encountered a problem. You’re a police officer and have seen many troublesome things, so I wanted to consult your opinion.”
Zhong Chengfeng turned her head, and her eyes brightened. “Tell me about it. I’ll do my best to help.”
She had spent more time on the Other Side than in the human world. The previous world was like a dream full of wonders, and she wanted to savor every detail.
So she particularly liked these types of questions.
“Well, a long time ago, I used to work at a company…”
Wait, Lu Xiaohe mentioned that her younger brother graduated from a prestigious university and came to Shian for an internship right after graduation. Although Lu Xiaohe’s gaze was always strangely unfocused when she mentioned it, she didn’t seem to be lying.
Zhong Chengfeng kept the question in her heart and listened attentively.
“In my department, I was the only one. Usually, I didn’t socialize with any colleagues. The salary was neither high nor low, just enough to feed myself. Besides sleeping, I only worked and had nothing else to do. At that time, I thought it was good enough to have enough to eat and didn’t consider anything else.”
Zhong Chengfeng: “…” What a miserable job. Even if he had a degree in bioenvironmental science and a master’s from A University, why did he end up like this?
“Later on, a few colleagues didn’t like me. They dragged me into an alley and beat me up, destroying my contract and identification documents. I couldn’t go to work anymore.”
Zhong Chengfeng felt a bit suffocated, and her blood pressure visibly rose a bit. “…Didn’t you report it to the police? What about labor arbitration?”
“At that time, I didn’t know anything,” Zhong Chengshuo said guiltily. “In any case, I left that company. Now I not only have enough to eat but also have my own life, loved ones, and family. I’m much happier than when I was mechanically surviving.”
“Then what do you want to ask me?” Zhong Chengfeng scratched her head. This should be a good ending.
“Now, that company can’t continue operating. They haven’t been able to find suitable people for my position.”
Officer Zhong’s sense of justice suddenly ignited. “They deserve it, right? We should have a celebration feast when it shuts down.”
“To maintain their operations, the company will resort to less decent methods. It will harm many innocent people and even involve my family.” Zhong Chengshuo shook his head. “Even if I want to help, my physical condition is not suitable for that kind of work anymore. That’s the current situation.”
“Um, are you really not considering reporting it to the police?”
“They won’t be able to catch them.” Zhong Chengshuo raised his eyes.
Zhong Chengfeng, being knowledgeable and experienced, didn’t ask further. “But you said your health is not suitable. If you go back, it would be like risking your life as a secret agent. Sacrificing yourself for such a garbage company is not worth it. Finding someone else to take over the position would be a bit unethical.”
“That’s right.” Zhong Chengshuo tightened the grip on his notebook. “And there are some things that… only I can do.”
The situation on the Other Side was delicate, and he didn’t want Yin Ren to become “Fear”.
Furthermore, Zhong Chengshuo had a vague feeling that the path of growth for Yin Ren might not be as smooth as Qi Xin imagined. Even if he was a special individual within the biological population, the difference between Yin Ren and himself was too great.
“In other words, it won’t work without you. But you don’t want to go back, and even if you did, you couldn’t do what you did before.” Zhong Chengfeng toyed with the gun in her hand. “Hmm… I have heard some gossip in the Economic Investigation Bureau. Partners lose trust in each other and go their separate ways, causing a mess.”
“But I don’t know much about these things, so I may not be able to provide a plan. I have only one suggestion—since you have made up your mind to intervene, you should show off your muscles properly.”
Zhong Chengshuo looked at her in confusion.
Zhong Chengfeng gestured in the air. “There are some things that only you can do, and you have to magnify this point. ‘It can’t be done without me.’ That’s a remarkable bargaining chip.”
“Afterward, whether it’s paying you as a consultant to mentor new recruits or bringing up old issues for compensation, it will be a powerful negotiation tool. But abilities are not credible without proof, so it would be best to have some project evidence…”
Zhong Chengshuo fixed his gaze on her. After about half a minute, he looked at Meng Huai, who was still lecturing diligently, and then turned his head to Zhong Chengfeng. The latter felt a little uneasy under his gaze. “What’s the matter?”
“You’re right,” he said. “My idea has become more refined. Thank you.”
Zhong Chengfeng: “…You’re welcome?”
“Next, I want to ask you for a favor.”
Zhong Chengshuo stood up and signaled for Zhong Chengfeng to follow him as he walked towards the slightly ajar door of the “armory”. After Zhong Chengfeng entered the room, he carefully closed the door, making sure no sound would escape.
The body of small-scale Elementals hung silently, emitting a chilling aura. Zhong Chengfeng’s smile seemed a bit forced, and her hand instinctively approached the gun handle. “What’s the matter? Why the secrecy?”
“I want you to help me separate the flesh from this weapon,” Zhong Chengshuo said in a low voice.
“I need purer materials; the current ones are not very suitable. This thing is quite special, and it’s inconvenient to show it to others.”
Zhong Chengfeng narrowed her eyes. “Show it to me.”
Zhong Chengshuo took a few deep breaths and pulled out the short knife, the “Evil Fruit”, from his backpack.
When Meng Huai had her accident, Zhong Chengshuo hadn’t “been born” yet, so the Evil Fruit had remained sealed deep in the Shian’s warehouse. Zhong Chengfeng was just an ordinary person. Even though she had been trained like a science post, Meng Huai wouldn’t have taught her this.
In theory, neither of them had seen the real Evil Fruit.
As expected, when Zhong Chengshuo pulled out a short knife, Zhong Chengfeng relaxed her brow. “You want to separate the evil flesh from it? I’ll remind you, once it’s separated, the knife as a base won’t hold up—even if you can substitute it with imagination, it won’t return to the human side.”
“It’s okay,” Zhong Chengshuo said sincerely. “This was given to me by someone else… Sister, when you separate it, don’t touch it. It’s a bit dangerous.”
The term “sister” was particularly sincere, and Zhong Chengfeng appreciated it.
“A self-defense cursed spirit weapon, huh? In that case, put the knife on the ground and imagine a container.”
“Mm.”
Zhong Chengfeng skillfully imagined a set of tools. She used tongs to hold the Evil Fruit and placed it on top of a glass funnel. Then she took the glass bottle that Zhong Chengshuo had imagined and placed it below the funnel.
After completing all this, she took a big step towards the low cabinet in the cold storage and took out a bottle of clear oily substance. “This is extracted from Elemental flesh and can dissolve the Elemental flesh in the weapon.”
She opened the cap and poured half the bottle onto the Evil Fruit in the large funnel.
The Evil Fruit made a hissing sound as it dissolved. It wrinkled and deformed like a thin plastic sheet exposed to fire. The beautiful crimson layer on the blade gradually separated from the knife, flowing down the funnel and dripping into the small glass bottle that Zhong Chengshuo had imagined.
It was a dim red liquid flowing with countless vortices, captivating and breathtaking. As the last bit of the blade dissolved, it lay silently in the glass bottle, beautiful like a dream.
“This is truly…”
Zhong Chengfeng couldn’t help but glance at it a few more times.
“Forget it, let’s first separate the extraction liquid. After the separation, let it settle for a few seconds; it will float above the flesh. After separation, we can reuse it… Hmm?”
That pool of red remained motionless, as if the extraction agent had never existed.
Zhong Chengshuo: “…That extraction agent was made from Elemental flesh.”
“Oh yeah, didn’t I mention that?”
“Then it’s possible it can’t be separated now.” Zhong Chengshuo’s tone became even more sincere. “This flesh is quite special.”
Particularly edible.
Zhong Chengfeng: “…”
Zhong Chengfeng: “…Why do I feel like I’ve been tricked by you?”
Zhong Chengshuo touched the bottle for a while—inside the small bottle, there was the flesh and oath of Yin Ren, and he could feel the surging power within it.
“Thank you. I won’t use it for bad things, I promise.”
“Promises mean nothing. I’m a police officer,” Zhong Chengfeng laughed. “I’ll tell Meng Huai about this matter.”
“Of course.”
Just helping to deal with a “cursed spirit weapon with Evil Force”, even if Meng Huai confirmed it with the others in Shian, they probably wouldn’t say much.
—With “Fear” itself here, whether it was a spirit weapon or not didn’t matter.
The small glass bottle was placed deep in the backpack, surrounded by countless white bones. In the darkness, it still swayed with intoxicating light.
Zhong Chengshuo sat back in Meng Huai’s small classroom.
He probably had an idea of what to do with it. What he lacked most now wasn’t materials but knowledge.
“The method of igniting Elemental flesh, how to control the reaction speed, and expand the effect of spells…” Zhong Chengshuo muttered softly while taking notes.
The pen slid across the paper, depicting something besides words.
His gaze swept over the design, which looked like a blueprint for an object.
……
Huang Jin felt a drumming in his heart as he looked at the design in front of him.
It wasn’t that he couldn’t make such a thing; he had already made something close to what Zhong Chengshuo had requested. But whenever he thought about the material for this thing, his hands couldn’t help but tremble.
At this moment, he stood in the secret underground chamber specially constructed by Zhong Chengshuo.
In front of him was a delicate and beautiful lantern.
Zhong Chengshuo’s snow-white bones had been transformed by Huang Jin into an unrecognizable shape and turned into the main body of the lantern. At first glance, this lantern had a simple and beautiful design, with an ivory-colored lampshade and pole. No one knew how many intricate runes were hidden inside its sleek design.
The exterior of the lantern was painted with a breathtaking red. The red seemed to possess life, constantly flowing on the surface of the lantern, emitting a strange shimmer.
Internally, the lantern had a makeshift glass cover made from imagination to shield it from wind and rain. In the center of the bottom, there was a white bone vessel that securely held the remaining “red pigment”—the cursed flesh of Yin Ren extracted from the Evil Fruit.
Zhong Chengshuo had designed everything regarding the amplification structure of the spell, the area of flesh integration, and more. The only thing they couldn’t find was the right material for the wick. No matter how sturdy the material was, it couldn’t withstand the demands of this exceptional lantern.
If they use Zhong Chengshuo body as the material for the wick for the lantern, the “wick” and the “lamp oil” would repel each other and fail to produce the desired effect.
Huang Jin stared at the lantern in front of him with a distressed expression, his eyes fixated. On one hand, he felt that this thing could potentially make his name go down in history, but on the other hand, he wasn’t quite sure if it would result in a good or bad reputation.
“I’ve done my best, but I really can’t figure it out.”
Huang Jin slumped onto the table, wearing an expression that said, “Just kill me already.”
“It’s been days. Why don’t you go find Yin Ren? He’s at least a spiritual genius as the Great Celestial Master. You can consult him without any risk.”
While Zhong Chengshuo continued to frantically write and draw, he responded, “After all, it’s my bones. I don’t want to make him uncomfortable. I need to succeed at least to… “
“I see. You just don’t want to show him that you’re not capable.” Huang Jin snorted. “King Yama always has a plan, always has ideas, and never finds himself powerless… Isn’t that exhausting?”
Zhong Chengshuo glanced at him thoughtfully.
The exhaustion from consecutive work overcame Huang Jin’s fear. Seeing Zhong Chengshuo remain silent, Huang Jin became more determined. “It’s about time you show some vulnerability. According to Meng Huai’s plan, once everyone else is trained, she wants to attempt a rescue mission.”
“Yin Ren promised to help Lu Xiaohe, so if you’re actively arming yourself now, it’s like helping Yin Ren. He definitely won’t think you’re incapable.”
Zhong Chengshuo continued to contemplate. “You understand these things well?”
“Of course.” Huang Jin lifted his gaze. “After all, I’ve mixed with Nightwalkers before. I have a good grasp of this level of human nature; it’s a piece of cake for me.”
“Then why don’t you confess your feelings to Ding Lizi?”
“…Goodbye. I’m going to train with Meng Jie.” Huang Jin quickly changed the subject.
Just as the words left his mouth, the space suddenly fluctuated. Huang Jin thought that Zhong Chengshuo had become angry and quickly darted to the corner, crouching down to hide. Zhong Chengshuo, on the other hand, furrowed his brow and instinctively raised his arm in a defensive posture.
“A confession? What confession?”
Before the sound of the person even arrived, Yin Ren’s figure appeared from the space.
He was still dressed in red, with his long hair flowing. However, this time, the ends of Yin Ren’s hair swayed gently, and his face showed a hint of relief, indicating that he had achieved some progress over the past few days.
Huang Jin relaxed from his protective posture. “Why is it you?!”
“I was practicing moving between realms,” Yin Ren happily replied. “Qi Xin didn’t deceive me. Not bad.”
They had reached a point where they could only go all the way. Although Qi Xin didn’t know what Yin Ren was, she had some understanding of his nature. As long as Zhong Chengshuo was by his side, Yin Ren and Love would never cooperate. The enemy of an enemy is a friend, and at this point, she could only make do with the situation.
So she taught Yin Ren how to move as a Primordial Elemental—
Don’t use your legs, use your imagination. It was like two people on opposite ends of a network, agreeing to enter the same virtual room to play a game. Instead of searching through the underlying data one by one, which would be an enormous task, as long as they found the “shared imagination”, they could find the place.
Just like that white room.
According to Zhong Chengshuo… When that person intended to do something bad, they would surely imagine that basement. Yin Ren tried to imagine it and actually found it. After several days apart, Yin Ren couldn’t help but take two steps to rush over, giving his beloved a firm embrace.
Unfortunately, there was an additional Huang Jin inside.
“Hey, you brought Huang Jin in specially. Are you secretly doing something?” Lord Ghost King marched straight to the table. “Let me see. Let me see.”
Zhong Chengshuo instinctively blocked Yin Ren’s steps. He looked at Yin Ren, then at Huang Jin, and then back at Yin Ren.
Finally, he hesitated and moved his feet aside, lowering his head. “…My experiment hasn’t been successful yet.”
It was rare to see Zhong Chengshuo in such a state, and Yin Ren’s attention immediately shifted from the table. As a mature Primordial Elemental, he extended a strand of hair generously and gently touched Zhong Chengshuo’s hand.
“What’s wrong?” Yin Ren tried to indicate that his hair was movable while asking with concern.
Zhong Chengshuo looked at that strand of hair, and his eyes gradually lit up.
“Give me one of your hairs,” he said. “The longer, the better.”
Yin Ren: “?”
While he made a questioning expression, the hair had already been plucked. The soft hair lay gently in Zhong Chengshuo’s palm, still carrying Yin Ren’s body temperature.
Then, Zhong Chengshuo plucked a few strands from his own head. He took out a clean and delicate bone and carefully wrapped Yin Ren’s hair around it, intertwining it with a few strands of his own short hair to ensure they were evenly mixed.
With this, there was a connection between them—both intertwined with each other. The “wick” and the “lamp oil” wouldn’t violently repel each other.
Looking at that sparkling bone, Yin Ren’s smile froze, and his complexion changed slightly.
Unaware of this, Zhong Chengshuo placed the brand-new “bone hair wick” on the bone vessel and reassembled the lantern.
“What is this?”
Yin Ren looked at the lantern, his throat tightening.
“That is the blood I left on the Evil Fruit, and your… your…”
Once-praised, sturdy, and gleaming white bone.
Zhong Chengshuo didn’t answer.
In his pitch-black eyes, intricate patterns surged—the essence of “Fear” was activated, emanating its unique power. At this moment, that power followed Zhong Chengshuo’s gaze, gathering on the wick.
First, there were small red sparks.
The runes inside the lantern were instantly activated, driven by Meng Huai’s optimized tranquility talismans. The repulsion was contained within a tiny range. Soon, the sparks turned into flames.
Red, gentle flames. They gently blossomed on the bone hair wick, resembling a delicate bud.
In an instant, the red glow illuminated the basement. Like a magnificent sunset, everything was covered in a faint red hue.
But what permeated wasn’t just the beautiful red light.
Under the red glow, Huang Jin huddled in place, clutching his arms tightly. His teeth chattered, and his hair stood on end. Even Yin Ren could sense the slight trembling—
Zhong Chengshuo stood in place, holding the burning lantern, as if holding a setting sun. The red light illuminated his black hair but failed to illuminate his pitch-black eyes.
He stood there, showing a slight smile, exuding an utterly chilling aura that didn’t belong to a human. It was evident that most of that fear had been artificially suppressed. However, its power was still astonishing—like needles piercing the brain. Even though Yin Ren had just experienced a dream training session, his back was drenched in cold sweat.
The most ancient Primordial Elemental… the true “Fear.”
“The prototype has many shortcomings, but the power control is sufficient. Once Huang Jin leaves, we can try high-power operation.”
Zhong Chengshuo announced with satisfaction, raising the lantern slightly.
The principle of this thing is actually quite simple—
Zhong Chengshuo’s essence remained only in his residual eyeball. Previously, he could only exercise limited control by close observation. Now, utilizing the mutual repulsion power of a top tier Elemental, he could spread his abilities in all directions without dead angles.
His innate ability to infect all things with “Fear”.
Whether it was through his gaze or the blade, the range that could be affected was ultimately limited. But what if it was transformed into “light”?
“The experiment is successful.”
Zhong Chengshuo contentedly approached Yin Ren as the flame of the lantern gently flickered.
“Sorry, I used up the ‘Evil Fruit’… As for this lantern, I want to call it ‘Karma’*.”
*Clarity: As explained before, the Evil Fruit’s name comes from the Buddhist term, bitter fruit that arises from the cause of evil… in other words, karma/retribution. So this new name is quite apt.
Since the corruption had been rampant, Li Nian had been living in the Shian Building for the most part.
Superficially, this corruption incident was comparable to an old lady’s foot-binding cloth—long and stinky with no end in sight. But in terms of the severity of the situation, Shian had no need to be so vigilant.
The headache had always laid with the police—under the influence of corruption, the crime rate in Haigu kept rising. Panic was like cracks in porcelain. Once you experienced it, you could never go back to your original state of mind.
Spreading panic was easy, but repairing such damage took a very long time. Nowadays, the past civilization and tranquility had all turned into illusions.
This time, Sunken Society played their hand, and the source of corruption had continuously spread. When the world was in chaos, people naturally turned to seeking gods and praying to Buddha. Many cultivators had seen their businesses thrive, and some had developed ulterior motives. Despite Shian’s repeated warnings, various corruption sources still found their way into the market in various forms.
Some of them had been intentionally spread by unscrupulous Nightwalkers.
At that stage, it wasn’t just a matter of preventing and controlling corruption sources anymore. Fu Xingchuan had returned and acted swiftly, shutting down the night market despite public opposition. The situation had somewhat improved but had still not been completely resolved.
Sunken Society had also been quietly taking action around the surrounding cities near Haigu. Recently, even the neighboring towns gradually experienced chaos. After the chaos had emerged, the “angel’s arm” inevitably followed, offering a buy-one-get-one-free deal.
However, both the subtle urban atmosphere and the entertainment self-media that had exaggerated the “angel’s arm” had not been within Shian’s direct reach. Fu Xingchuan had been busy figuring out how to deal with corruption sources, while Li Nian had repeatedly examined the investigation report of the Coral Reef Group.
When Gao Mengyu’s urgent notification arrived, he had just finished reading the financial report of the Coral Reef Group from the previous year.
“…Don’t get excited, Miss Gao. Please take your time to explain.”
After listening for several minutes, his expression hadn’t shown shock but had gradually become gloomy.
“I understand. Tomorrow’s arrangements won’t change for now. I will personally investigate the ‘angel’s arm’ with you,” he said. “Fu Xingchuan will follow up on the issue you mentioned.”
After ending the call, Li Nian quickly dialed Fu Xingchuan’s number.
“Gao Mengyu’s cat sent a message saying that they had encountered some missing people on the Other Side. There may have been survivors among the remaining missing people, so it would be best to prepare emergency rescue measures at the underground exit.”
“However, considering that the message from Gao Mengyu’s cat is in ‘tablecloth handwriting’, it can also be smoke bombs from Sunken Society.” Li Nian’s tone had remained calm. “We just need to prepare medical resources in advance.”
After saying that, he didn’t wait for Fu Xingchuan’s reaction and abruptly ended the call. A warm dizziness swept over him, and Li Nian unscrewed his thermos and took a few sips of tea—it was as thick as medicinal soup and incredibly bitter that it numbed Professor Li’s tongue.
Did he sleep a total of eight hours in the past three days?
Li Nian pressed his temples forcefully and involuntarily looked towards the window. It was the early hours of the morning, and the city outside was shrouded in a hazy shadow… His position should have belonged to Meng Huai. If that person hadn’t gone missing, she might have been the Minister of the Emergency Management Department.
“Why bother?”
A cheerful voice sounded in his ear.
As the saying went, “one has thoughts during the day and dreams at night*”, but Li Nian hadn’t fallen asleep, and that voice had come out of his dream.
*(日有所思夜有所梦) Proverb that implies one’s mind is occupied with thoughts and ideas during the day that fill your dreams at night.
Meng Huai’s arm rested on his shoulder, and the voice drew closer.
“Xiao Li, be careful not to stay up late all the time, or you won’t grow taller, you know.”
Li Nian tightened his grip on the thermos as his chest heaved dramatically. His other hand barely grasped the phone, and his finger trembled incessantly. It took him a while to steady it on the table.
Then he turned around, and the warm tea splashed out, hitting the figure behind him directly—
Meng Huai was standing right there.
She was wearing the red shirt she had gone missing in, with her hair neatly tied up in a high ponytail. The person wore a delicate bracelet on their wrist, which looked out of place on the scar-covered hand. The ring on the ring finger was identical to his.
The tea splashed onto her, creating a large wet stain in front of her, resembling blood. The aroma of tea permeated the office, and the tea flowed down the fabric, dripping onto the floor, drop by drop.
How real it felt.
The tea splashed onto her, but she didn’t seem annoyed. She stood in the corner of the office, smiling as she looked over.
“It’s an illusion,” Li Nian said in a deep voice. “You’re not her.”
Meng Huai laughed heartily. “Come on, don’t pretend. Little Brother Li, with your personality, how could you easily be influenced by illusions?”
Li Nian stared with bloodshot eyes. He hesitated for a moment, and then he reached out his hand, placing it gently on Meng Huai’s shoulder.
A tangible touch; the warmth of a human being.
“A tangible entity,” he said. “The possibility of an illusion still can’t be ruled out.”
Meng Huai laughed until her laughter caused small creases to form on her nose. “Hahaha! You’re truly something, becoming a minister and still looking so dead.”
Li Nian tried to grab her arm, but Meng Huai dodged as gracefully as he remembered, evading his grasp. Her clothes were still damp and dripping with tea.
Meng Huai made a face at him. “Actually, you guessed right. This is a spiritual perception—thanks to Yin Ren’s communication, I managed to barely project myself from the Other Side. Whether you believe it or not, I will be with you from now on.”
As she spoke, her words softened, carrying a hint of tenderness and melancholy.
“All this time, I’ve been—”
“That’s enough.” Li Nian’s face showed displeasure as he directly interrupted the person in front of him. “You’re not her!”
“The Meng Huai I know would never believe that I joined Shian. Even if there is irrefutable evidence of ‘me becoming a minister’, her first reaction upon seeing me would be to shower me with curses.”
His voice gradually turned cold.
“If you can affect me, you must be something very powerful and dangerous.”
The smiling face of “Meng Huai” twisted slightly. She crossed her arms and calmly interjected, “In your memories, there is no such scenario. What makes you so certain?”
Li Nian remained silent.
“Lao Li!” Fu Xingchuan kicked the door open. “Rare to see you calling for emergency assistance. You—”
“Who are you talking to?” Fu Xingchuan’s expression changed from anxious to perplexed. He looked around, even “sniffed” loudly. “There’s no unusual aura?”
“I’m talking to the ‘angel’s arm’.” Li Nian gazed at the figure standing two steps in front of him. “Meng Huai” was still there, playfully greeting Fu Xingchuan.
Fu Xingchuan’s expression fluctuated, eventually settling on alertness. “Even you…”
“Impressive, Minister Li. You immediately called for backup.”
“Meng Huai” clapped her hands and laughed a few more times. In an instant, her figure flickered, and those warm arms encircled him again, like an embrace between ordinary lovers. The wedding ring on its ring finger shone brightly.
“What a pity—” It blew air into Li Nian’s ear. “From the very beginning, you shouldn’t have engaged in a conversation with me.”
……
The next morning, Dr. Sun left the hospital. But when she left the hospital, she didn’t go home; she went straight to change into work clothes.
Officer Sun, carrying a thermos filled with stewed chicken soup, was waiting near his daughter’s office early in the morning. “Hey, sweetie. Dad stewed the chicken specially last night—be careful, it’s still hot.”
“Where’s Mom?” Dr. Sun took the thermos with both hands.
“The department has been busy lately, but I can find someone to cover for me. She couldn’t leave temporarily.” Officer Sun’s smile was somewhat awkward. “She said yesterday that she can take a break in a couple of days and come to the hospital to see you.”
“She cares.” Sun Qi’an smiled warmly. “Actually, my situation isn’t too bad, and the tumor in my head is stable. The big shots say that as long as I don’t experience severe impact, I might just peacefully coexist with it until the end of my life.”
Officer Sun moved his lips, hesitating for a moment. “Sweetie, please don’t overthink it. Your mother, she…”
“Mom cares about me. Her absence this time has nothing to do with me not being her biological daughter.” Sun Qi’an pushed Officer Sun playfully. “Come on, it’s been so many years. I’m not a grade schooler anymore.”
Officer Sun forced a couple of dry laughs. “Right, my baby girl has grown up.”
Bidding farewell to her father, Sun Qi’an glanced at her phone—the inquiry arranged by Shian seemed to be at 9 in the morning, so she had time to finish the soup. Officer Sun had also specially packed soft pancakes. If they were left for too long, the steam would ruin them.
So she found a lounge, pulled out a soft and fair chair, and wiped the warm tabletop that looked like living skin. The window was slightly open, and rows of arms by the bed swayed in the breeze, casting soft shadows.
Sun Qi’an carefully rolled up her sleeves, attentively tore open the pancake, and dipped it bit by bit into the chicken soup. Halfway through her meal, she wanted a sip of water. A hand appeared beside her, and the water in the cup became perfectly warm.
The touch of the cup was pleasantly warm, although the wall of the cup was a bit thick. Fortunately, the nails forming the cup’s rim were neatly trimmed, revealing a healthy color.
After finishing the chicken soup, she packed up the thermos and stretched lazily in the sunlight.
It was a beautiful day outside, with many translucent arms floating in the air, soft like jellyfish tentacles. ‘Another calm day,’ she thought.
In the dial with blood vessels, the beautifully shaped thumb, middle finger, and pinky finger rotated leisurely. Sun Qi’an looked up at the time, and at that moment, she suddenly felt a vague sense of something strange.
Something is off.
What exactly is wrong?
Oh well, maybe it’s just the weather. Sun Qi’an patted her slightly aching head and felt quite content.
When the hour hand reached 8:50, Sun Qi’an straightened her collar and stepped out of the door.
“Shian’s inquiry.” She clasped her hands tightly. “I need to handle it seriously.”
“Yes.” Her mother—her real mother who had long passed away—wrapped her arm around her shoulder and whispered warmly in her ear. “You need to handle it seriously.”
Sun Qi’an skillfully tied up her hair, held her head high, and walked forward. On the opposite side, behind Li Nian, Gao Mengyu walked with her head slightly lowered, and the two sides coincidentally met.
Sun Qi’an blinked.
On Li Nian’s shoulder, there was also a beautiful arm at rest.
Indeed, she was just being overly anxious. The world was still functioning normally, without anything unusual.
“I actually feel pretty good.”
Once seated, Sun Qi’an smiled gently and beautifully, as always.
“Well, I haven’t encountered anything strange again, nor have I seen any abnormal arms… Maybe you should go and ask others?”
……
At this moment, Lord Ghost King was still suffering inside “Satisfaction”.
If there was a recording device on the Other Side, Yin Ren guessed he must look like a peppermint candy thrown into a carbonated drink. He was being tortured to death by these damned bubbles.
Question: In a snowy landscape, surrounded by blades from all directions with no way to dodge, what should you do?
Answer: Crouch down and protect your head.
After regaining consciousness, Yin Ren didn’t grow taller or bigger, as Qi Xin had hoped. He curled up even tighter than a startled clamshell. Unfortunately, even with less contact with the bubbles, the pain continued to assault him endlessly.
It was too painful.
An old person dreaming of endless artillery fire, a stray dog dreaming of swinging blades, a child dreaming of chasing after their abandoned parents, and a young person dreaming of holding the body of their loved one tightly. From being displaced to the death of a beloved pet, the dark emotions brewed into a pot of porridge, and each burst of a bubble was a mournful cry.
It was too joyful.
A patient dreaming of a day of recovery, a bird dreaming of a warm southern place, a parent dreaming of their deceased children, a middle-aged person dreaming of fantastical encounters that defied reality… Countless satisfactions came pouring in.
Like ice and fire, they alternated the torment. Each emotional bomb exploded on Yin Ren, leaving him bruised and battered.
He had lived hundreds of years in the human world, but here he was like an infant, forced to navigate through the minds of countless young and old souls. Billions of emotions intertwined in chaos and intensity, and he was about to be submerged and crushed by countless minds.
To withstand all this, there were precedents—either, like Zhong Chengshuo a thousand years ago, abandon all emotions, or, like Zhong Chengshuo a thousand years later, use scientific willpower to fortify oneself.
He couldn’t take the second path, but abandoning emotions…
Indeed, incomprehension and indifference may be the only solution to deal with this chaotic mess. It was like being human and not caring about the joys and sorrows of cockroaches. It was also like tender flesh festering and forming thick calluses, rendering it less susceptible to stimuli.
Yin Ren supported his shattered consciousness and suddenly felt a bit sad.
Evil being, Great Celestial Master, Evil Spirit… The cub of Fear. Stripping away the layers of shells, he was just a mortal born of his mother, a flesh-and-blood human. And his opponent was the emotional chaos that had accumulated over billions of years on the Other Side.
No wonder he always had that sense of powerlessness before. Now, completely dispelling the clouds, he truly understood that he was a mere mayfly challenging a giant tree, an insignificant force. To confront enemies far beyond human capabilities, he himself had to become something far beyond human—how fair it seemed.
But he couldn’t make that decision.
Countless dreams flashed by, so beautiful. Yet if he were to abandon the eyes that could understand them, in his eyes, they would be no different from the filthy foam that surfaced from the sewers. In the future, whether it was the life or death of the members of Unit 9, or the subtle emotions on Zhong Chengshuo’s face, it would all turn into trivial dust and no longer stir even the slightest reaction from him.
Yin Ren didn’t like that.
So should he give up? Slipping away dejectedly, resigning himself to fate, living with a sense of powerlessness?
Or should he accept everything completely? If he continued to endure this pain, not even a year, a month, or a day would pass before he lost interest in life.
It was truly maddening. When he first arrived in this era, all he wanted was to enjoy some fresh food and live one day at a time.
“I’m not used to thinking about this…” Yin Ren bitterly mumbled in his mind.
If Zhong Chengshuo were here, he might be able to come up with some fantastic ideas from a Primordial Elemental perspective. No, that wasn’t right either. That guy himself wasn’t very good at handling emotions…
Thinking of this, Yin Ren suddenly froze for a moment.
When did he initially encounter this difficult problem?
[I’m only used to thinking about how “I” can come out unscathed… This is the first time I’m attempting to think about “us”.]
When he was wrapped layer by layer by the “Attachment” Elemental inside the Corpse Cage, Zhong Chengshuo had said that.
[Yin Ren, I will come up with a more suitable solution.]
A more suitable solution.
Yin Ren’s tensed body loosened slightly.
At that time, he first alleviated his loss of control through battle, and then resolved the “Attachment”. There must have been something in that process—something he seemed to grasp…
Either give up humanity, or give up becoming stronger, or endure the pain until it drives him insane.
Why wasn’t there a fourth option?
[…Battle is the best way to release pent-up emotions…] Fragments of memories whispered in his ears.
The Elementals rarely empathized with humans, which was why there was a natural barrier. “Satisfaction” and “Fear” didn’t have brains, so naturally, they couldn’t think on this level.
Various emotions exploded in his mind, and he had always tried to deny them, to dominate them, to manipulate them. What would happen if he gave up resistance and tried to accept these emotions?
Feeling cornered, with no way out, he resorted to desperate measures, shouting for Qi Xin to save him if things didn’t go well!
Yin Ren took a deep breath in his mind and suddenly relaxed his entire body.
An old person dreaming of endless artillery fire, a stray dog dreaming of swinging blades—he squatted beside them, sobbing along with them; a child dreaming of chasing their abandoned parents, a young person dreaming of embracing the corpse of their loved ones—Yin Ren stood nearby, crying louder than them.
A patient dreaming of a day of recovery, a bird dreaming of warm southern lands—he smiled along with them; a parent dreaming of their deceased children, a middle-aged person dreaming of fantastical adventures that defied reality—he recorded these fleeting moments for them.
Yin Ren no longer put up his defenses. He traversed through unordered consciousness, not hiding his own fears and satisfactions. Truly, this was training—a perfect opportunity to temper his spirit. He even began to actively approach those dreamscapes, experiencing the various emotions of the dreamers.
At the beginning, it was indeed painful.
As a powerful Primordial Elemental, a terrifying evil, or a revered Great Celestial Master, he shouldn’t have been affected by these messy emotions. The strong seemed to be expected to trample over thorns barefoot and carve out a path drenched in blood.
But as a mortal, Yin Ren allowed himself to be defeated, tormented, and submerged in the countless ups and downs of human existence. He cried when he felt sad and laughed when he felt happy. Anyway, his skin was thick enough—why not indulge in love, hatred, passion, joy, sorrow, and separation for a while?
He insisted on enduring it.
Gradually, the dam that Yin Ren had built so frantically began to crumble. The water no longer turbulently muddied but instead flowed gradually and gently, forming several clear streams. After an unknown time, the pain brought by great joys and sorrows became more bearable.
Yin Ren closed the eyes of the old person, held the hand of the child, and touched the soft fur of animals. Life in all its diversity, all living beings—that was all there was to it. Having seen so much and understood so deeply, he allowed himself to freely express joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness, as they were nothing major.
Negative emotions could still circulate within him, but he could now accept satisfaction with ease.
Countless illusions brushed by, and in the end, Yin Ren discovered that he was immersed in many bubbles. They only left him with a very small stinging sensation, just like a hug from Zhong Chengshuo.
Those emotions continued to surge, but they no longer engaged in a tug-of-war with him; they swiftly passed through him, like a breeze from the unknown.
He had won.
He didn’t know if this counted as passing, but he knew for sure that he had definitely grown a bit.
Yin Ren stretched himself out triumphantly; with “Satisfaction” being so big, why not expand himself to the fullest? He didn’t know if Qi Xin was watching, but he hoped to annoy her.
He kept stretching, even with fear and caution, still displaying a righteous and confident attitude like a fearless calf not afraid of tigers. He felt as if he had been released from a vacuum-sealed package, ready to expand to the ends of the earth.
Finally, “Satisfaction” seemed to notice something.
Like any undigested organism, countless bubbles separated, and countless vortices merged, forming a large mouth with tremendous suction force. Before Yin Ren could react, he was cruelly vomited out.
He lay sprawled on the tunnel of the Other Side, flapping his wings in dissatisfaction. At this moment, those clusters of wings had turned pitch black, with intricate and obscure patterns swirling within them, resembling Zhong Chengshuo’s eyes.
Yin Ren deliberately grew an eyeball and solemnly examined himself for a while.
New, not bad.
Unfortunately, Ms. Qi Xin’s thoughts clearly went against his.
Qi Xin had followed him throughout the whole process, and now she was floating above the wriggling Yin Ren on the ground, with a face even longer than “Love’s” arms.
Before Yin Ren could open his mouth to speak to her, Qi Xin descended slowly. Her hands scooped up two clusters of wings with a casual gesture, as if she was a customer buying cabbage in a vegetable market. She looked at the flapping soft wings on the ground and her eyes filled with strong disbelief—normally, this great Elemental rarely displayed such intense emotions.
First, she directly infused a state of sorrow.
Yin Ren smoothly accepted it, allowing tears to flow from the small wings nestled at the bottom. He remained expressionless—now he had become a mature Primordial Elemental that could embrace joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness while retaining his rationality. He wouldn’t be shaken by such tricks.
Seeing that Yin Ren didn’t struggle or collapse, Qi Xin quickly plucked off a small wing and chewed on it.
Yin Ren: “?”
How could she start eating them? Did she really think they wouldn’t fight each other?
“Wrong.”
Qi Xin grabbed her hair with her fingers, messing up her previously neat bun.
“Wrong, wrong, wrong—! There’s no taste of Fear! Why is there no taste of Fear?”
……
Qi Xin did witness the whole process.
At first, when she saw Yin Ren stretching his body, she was delighted—this guy had finally figured it out. As the saying went, “It’s survival of the fittest, and if you want to protect yourself, strength is the most precious thing.”
But Yin Ren’s reaction gradually became somewhat strange.
During those long days and nights, he began rolling around, making contact with those bubbles, and diving into whichever dream was more abundant. In the end, that black mass floated and swayed within the bubbles, even emitting a sense of contentment.
The “Fear” she knew didn’t behave like this!
“Fear” should be more silent, colder, like the night in the human world. Long ago, when Qi Xin discovered that Yin Ren possessed the power that annihilated the Primordial Elementals, she was certain that he was the “Fear” cub she had been seeking.
Even if his birth was a bit problematic and his form was strange and peculiar; even if he had too much humanity… a cub was a cub. It was just a matter of training. After all, no one knew what Old Fear looked like when it was young. When the cub grew up, everything would fall back into place.
But now she wasn’t sure anymore.
Yin Ren’s state was indeed that of a mature Primordial Elemental. He stretched his body, exuding a depth that seemed bottomless, but his form didn’t resemble “Fear” at all.
Old Fear was pure blackness. It didn’t have the flapping black wings on the ground, nor the delicate and slightly dazzling thin red veil that gently floated above the wings. It danced gracefully, never ceasing, with its wings fluttering gently.
Swish, swish.
The “Primordial Elemental” in front of her was undoubtedly warm.
Yan Budu died tragically. The fish demon eye on the smoking pipe fell into the grass, and the heart sank into darkness.
Then the darkness shattered, and the ground disappeared beneath the two.
The small magic circle ceased to operate, and the desolate graves on the hillside vanished. The scenery in front changed from Zongwu Mountain to Huilian Mountain, with rolling clouds and mist below and an abyss spanning thousands of feet.
The inner demons returned to their place, and the human head lamp lit up, revealing the white thorns once again.
The transparent stone platform shook, on the verge of collapse. Yin Ci borrowed the last bit of strength, clutching Shi Jingzhi, and rolled back to the edge of the cliff. Shi Jingzhi stared blankly into the void, as if desperately trying to recall something.
This time, when the two landed, Yin Ci didn’t treat Shi Jingzhi as a cushion. He intentionally turned his body to the side, and his back hit the stone surface, causing his head to buzz.
On Zongwu Mountain, Yan Budu left behind numerous crucial clues.
For example, he did indeed hide the Shirou; for example, even with countless maps, they still needed a “key”; and furthermore, Yan Budu really had contact with immortals—after all, he was a generational master and wouldn’t mistake a mortal who had drunk immortal wine for an immortal.
But at this moment, Yin Ci couldn’t delve into those clues.
The spider mole the size of a copper coin on Yan Budu’s chest was dark green, identical to the one Shi Jingzhi had.
Both of them were extraordinarily talented, stubborn and ambitious, and they were both afflicted with a rare and consistent disease that was rarely seen in the world. Could this be a coincidence?
And Yin Ci had also seen Yan Budu’s appearance when he was “determined”.
Over twenty years ago, Kushan had gathered in different valleys. Before his Little Mute died, he too had black veins all over his body, with black blood oozing from his mouth and nose, and a persistent high fever. Even a gentle touch would elicit a heart-wrenching scream.
[When I was a child, I had a high fever once, and this thing appeared afterward.]
…Could all of this be a coincidence?
Impossible.
Yin Ci lay at the edge of the cliff, not getting up immediately, nor allowing Shi Jingzhi to rise. He wrapped one arm around Shi Jingzhi’s waist, firmly imprisoning him against his own body.
Shi Jingzhi stared blankly at Yin Ci with an expression that was still dazed and absent-minded.
The shadow hand moved, futilely grasping the white thorns. The thorns, full of sharp spikes, caused piercing pain to assault him from all directions, but Yin Ci had no intention of letting go.
The two spent a month together in their minds, but only a few sticks of incense had passed externally. The sun hadn’t moved much from its position, the sky was clear, the breeze was chilly, and everything remained the same.
Yin Ci coldly observed Kongshi passing away and Yan Budu’s self-destruction. Having witnessed all the myriad phenomena of the world, he thought he had long grown accustomed to being detached from worldly matters. But now, unexpectedly struck by his own past, his throat suddenly felt sour, choking back countless words.
It turned out that his “human heart” hadn’t had a chance to completely rot away.
Indeed, he had considered it before. If his Little Mute had survived, he would be this old. Who could have imagined that his casual thought would now become a reality—a strange illness as the catalyst, fate as the thread, as if he had captured the lingering soul of twenty-four years ago.
However, there were still several doubts. The Little Mute had seen his face, but Shi Jingzhi didn’t recognize him. Yin Ci had witnessed the Little Mute’s bones being devoured, yet Shi Jingzhi stood there unscathed. Yin Ci knew he wouldn’t be easily deceived, and Shi Jingzhi’s mysterious origins and shattered humanity indicated that someone had deliberately orchestrated this.
What exactly did Yan Budu mean by “fixed desire”? And whose shadow lurked behind this “strange illness”?
Yin Ci closed his eyes for a moment, and when he spoke again, his tone returned to its usual state. He painstakingly confirmed the final question—
“You said you had a high fever at the age of three and then developed this strange mole. How much do you remember about the time of the fever?”
Shi Jingzhi frowned. “Not much. I even forgot what happened before the fever. I only know about the fever itself from what others told me.”
Without needing any prompting from Yin Ci, Shi Jingzhi continued on his own.
“Now that I think about it, the symptoms are quite similar to those of Yan Budu… But I’ve never heard of this ‘fixed desire’, and he definitely knows more about this condition than I do.”
Unfortunately, Yan Budu had already been buried in the mountains, and his bones were probably nowhere to be found now.
Shi Jingzhi had likely also thought of this point. Although he was excited by the new clues, he remained calm and didn’t become ecstatic.
“A’Ci, we’re safe now. Let go of me first.” Shi Jingzhi patted Yin Ci’s arm.
But Yin Ci didn’t release his grip.
Even if the clues on Yan Budu’s side had been severed, it didn’t matter. Even if Shi Jingzhi couldn’t remember the past, it didn’t matter.
The person was already by his side, and he would find a way to uncover the truth of that year. Yin Ci’s hand clutched the back of Shi Jingzhi’s head, his fingers deeply buried in the black hair, holding the other person tightly against his chest.
He lay there between heaven and earth, gazing directly at the sky.
To him, the Little Mute wasn’t a game to pass the time. That child was more like a nail, anchoring the last trace of his soul in the mortal realm. Although Yin Ci didn’t consider “living like this” a fortunate event, it was still far better than being deeply engulfed in madness and immersed in killing and calamity.
He had once made an unfulfilled promise to the Little Mute, and now he had a chance for redemption.
In the chaotic mortal world, in the midst of darkness, he once again touched a fragment of destiny. His long-dormant heart contracted, and a dull pain emerged.
Back then, the innocent child could never have had the intention of playing tricks on him. So, no matter who was behind this matter, daring to deceive and snatch someone from him through deceitful means would surely come at a cost.
If it was a mortal, they would be killed. If it was an immortal, he would make sure that immortal fell into the mortal realm.
As he was pressed into Yin Ci’s embrace, Shi Jingzhi finally noticed that something was wrong with Yin Ci. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I’m thinking about Shizun’s illness,” Yin Ci replied, still gazing at the sky.
“We can talk about that later. If you’re tired, rest here. I need to go check on Su Si and Yan Qing… A’Ci?”
“Yes,” Yin Ci didn’t release his embrace. “With the two of us working together and having clues in hand, we will definitely be able to uncover the mystery behind this strange illness.”
After speaking, Yin Ci lowered his head and lightly brushed his lips against Shi Jingzhi’s forehead. His gaze passed through the person in front of him and looked at the figure from twenty years ago.
[Little Mute, even though you can’t express your wishes, This Seat* promise you a worry-free life and longevity of a hundred years.]
*[Ben zuo] (本座) Term when referring to oneself in a formal and authoritative manner, often used by individuals in positions of power or high authority.
Yin Ci’s lips curled into a smile.
Just as Shi Jingzhi was thinking Yin Ci truly lived up to the title of “the immortal who sends people off for their last journey”—
“…Shi Jingzhi, I promise you a worry-free life and longevity of a hundred years.”
Even if he had to defy destiny once again—he not only wanted him to live a few more years, he wanted him to have a peaceful and natural end.
Shi Jingzhi gasped and pressed his temple.
At the moment he heard those words, his mind was filled with falling red leaves and piercing pain. It seemed like something wanted to break free, but couldn’t find a way, causing his head to ache.
So he could only grin and play it off. “Good disciple, you don’t need to promise me a hundred years of longevity. Ninety-nine is enough.”
Yin Ci’s gaze became complex, and he smiled as he released him. “That works too.”
An hour and a half passed.
The master and disciple treated the injured servants. Their role as healers emerged, finally waking up the two unconscious individuals buried in the snow.
Yan Qing and Su Si’s inner demons hadn’t disappeared, but they had at least returned to normal. However, their wounds were real, adding to the dire situation of the Kushan Sect.
Su Si continued to touch his wounds and grumble. As for Yan Qing, when he woke up and saw the pale thorns all around, he thought he was still dreaming. He simply closed his eyes, turned over, and continued to pretend to be unconscious.
When Shi Jingzhi saw those eerie eyes, his emotions became complicated.
After a while, Shi Jingzhi cleared his throat and spoke with an extremely stern tone. “Yan Qing, if you don’t get up now, I’ll deduct your monthly allowance.”
Yan Qing instantly sat up in shock, looking even more upright than Shi Jingzhi’s flagpole.
As everyone woke up, Shi Jingzhi crossed his arms and put on a show of being self-important. “A’Ci and I have already defeated the Lords of Hatred and Ignorance, so you don’t need to worry anymore. However, the Buddha Heart Formation is quite troublesome. Once you’ve rested well, we should enter the Jianchen Temple as soon as possible to catch our breath.”
Yan Qing nodded obediently, treating Su Si as usual, as if the inner demon ordeal had never happened. Su Si, on the other hand, scratched his cheek and occasionally glanced at Yan Qing, his face turning red.
In the end, his vigilance defeated the idea of “being honest for a while,” and he asked with a serious tone, “Sect Master, what exactly is all this on the ground? Can you please explain?”
Shi Jingzhi appeared amiable and replied without hesitation, “They are the remnants left behind by the Lord of Hatred and the Lord of Ignorance.”
Yin Ci was momentarily stunned but couldn’t help bursting into laughter. He momentarily forgot himself and only thought about the Little Mute. He almost forgot about this person’s fox fur.
How wonderful, he couldn’t help but think.
Although Shi Jingzhi was broken, he didn’t sink into gloom or become reclusive. That vitality remained the same as before, and Yin Ci could still hold his hand, catching a glimpse of that glimmer of light.
There was still time for everything.
The sun gradually set, and the night passed without incident.
The spells left behind by Yan Budu had ceased, and apart from their own inner demons, there was nothing else blocking their path. The mountain road stretched ahead, and Shi Jingzhi took the opportunity to briefly explain the events of the mind realm, providing an account for the purpose of this journey.
The surroundings were calm and peaceful, and his single disciple wasn’t missing, so Sect Master Shi was filled with gratification. However, compared to before, his disciple had undergone some subtle changes—
Since they left the small magic formation, Shi Jingzhi couldn’t help but feel that Yin Ci’s gaze towards him was a little off. The Buddha Heart Formation had once again taken effect, and his disciple’s inner demon hadn’t moved, yet his eyes didn’t darken anymore.
But whenever they set off, Yin Ci would still naturally grab his wrist and hold it neither lightly nor heavily. From this perspective, the “disciple regaining his sight” seemed like his own illusion once again.
However, this feeling was comforting, and Shi Jingzhi didn’t want to ask about it. He allowed Yin Ci to lead him.
Yan Qing hadn’t experienced the mind realm for that month, so he was still accustomed to the current situation. Supporting Su Si, who had a snake tail, he couldn’t help but feel something was amiss. “Since we have clues, why do we still need to go up the mountain?”
“Although A’Ci and I saw the cave and desolate graves, Zongwu Mountain is too vast to search inch by inch.”
Shi Jingzhi spoke cheerfully.
“Venerable Kongshi of the Jianchen Temple was an eminent monk. Over the years, the temple has never given up on searching for his remains. When it comes to the location where Yan Budu and Venerable Kongshi had their final battle, no one knows better than the Jianchen Temple.”
“That’s right,” Yin Ci added, “And there’s something I’m particularly interested in—Yan Budu took away Venerable Kongshi’s sword but didn’t bring it back to the tomb. Yan Budu would never do useless things…”
“…That stone sword probably has some secrets as well. Besides, he arranged the clues at the entrance of the Jianchen Temple. It feels like something is missing if we just get the clues and turn back halfway.”
Shi Jingzhi smiled and continued the conversation.
“When it comes to Yan Budu, even the slightest clue is worth a try.”
Upon hearing this, Su Si’s movement paused. He looked at Shi Jingzhi’s back, and his face showed a pensive expression.
“A’Si?” Yan Qing, who was pulling him up the steps, was the first to sense that something was off.
“I was lost in thought for a moment.” Su Si furrowed his brows slightly. “Let’s go. We should go to the Jianchen Temple first… Don’t worry, I won’t hide anything from you anymore.”
The author has something to say:
Demonic Lord Yin: I was just pretending when I said I was blind.
The monk’s stone sword had returned to its original position. Kongshi sat upright in front of the bonfire, using an iron bowl to simmer something. Just like the past dozens of days, the cave was dim, filled with the light of the fire, and at a fixed time, the person always remained in a fixed position.
The difference this time was that a pleasant fragrance wafted in the cave.
After being domineering and arrogant for so many years, Yan Budu had tasted all sorts of miraculous medicines and strange herbs in the world. He instantly recognized the smell of this thing—
“Ice peak snake lotus… Truly worthy of an eminent monk. Heaven has given its blessing that even such a legendary object can be found.”
This thing was extremely rare, growing in the deep mountains during severe winter. It could be called a holy medicine for treating internal injuries. Zongwu Mountain wasn’t a place of great vitality, yet it could produce such a thing thanks to the ancient formation.
However, the main reason why the ice peak snake lotus was rare wasn’t the harsh growing conditions or the scarcity in quantity, but the lotus snake that accompanied it.
As miraculous as the effects of the ice peak snake lotus were, the lotus snake was equally poisonous. They liked to gather in groups with a number equal to the petals of the ice peak snake lotus, ranging from tens to dozens. The snowy mountain was already dazzling, and these strange snakes were transparent all over and extremely fast, making them quite formidable.
Not to mention the monk who was content and desired little, even if Yan Budu had the opportunity to see the ice peak snake lotus, he might not be willing to take it.
However, no matter how difficult the situation, it seemed that nothing could change the expression on Kongshi’s face. He casually took the legendary object and boiled it with his expression unchanged, as if it were just a strangely shaped mushroom.
Today was obviously the day when they became enemies.
“You’re quite something, Kongshi, being able to escape from the lotus snakes. It seems that I can have a good fight in tomorrow’s battle…” Yan Budu struggled to catch his breath, still not letting up on his taunting.
Whether it was because he was tired of leaning against the wall or not, Yan Budu sat back in front of the chessboard. With one hand supporting his body, even with a face full of illness, he still had a hint of elegance.
Yan Budu suddenly collapsed in the afternoon, leaving the chessboard with a half-finished game. He didn’t scatter the chess pieces, but just leaned against them lightly.
Kongshi finished brewing the medicinal soup and walked over calmly. He sat in front of Yan Budu, placed the stone spoon in the bowl, and handed it to Yan Budu. “Please use it, Patron.”
“Venerable, previously when I was weak, you fed me spoonful by spoonful… Why is it that even the lotus snakes have moved for me, but now there’s this distance between us?”
Kongshi’s voice was gentle as if his words carried a light breeze and faint clouds. “Amitabha, I have other matters to attend to. Patron lacks diligence in nurturing the body, but the distinction between light and heavy can still be made.”
Yan Budu was already accustomed to the monk’s evasive response. He snorted, picked up the iron bowl, and drank the medicinal soup in one gulp.
The medicinal soup had been cooled with snow, making the temperature just right. As the warm medicine entered his body, a surge of heat spread throughout his limbs and bones. Yan Budu’s bloodshot eyes relaxed, and his furrowed brow showed a hint of relief.
Despite his arrogance, Yan Budu wouldn’t waste time for nothing. He immediately sat on the straw cushion in front of the chessboard to adjust and heal his injuries.
This time, Kongshi didn’t help him like before.
Kongshi continued to sit on the other side of the chessboard with his hands clasped together as he silently recited sutras.
After half an hour passed, Yan Budu coughed up a mouthful of blood again. The strange blood threads seemed to gather, slowly receding from his limbs. His face still lacked color, but at least his body no longer trembled and convulsed.
Only then did Yan Budu breathe a sigh of relief and turn his gaze towards the opposite side, only to freeze in astonishment.
The monk’s hands had always been beautiful, with slender fingers and distinct joints. Previously, when he clasped his hands together in prayer, they were truly pleasing to the eye.
But now, they didn’t look as appealing.
Kongshi’s hands were completely exposed from his sleeves. The edge of his left palm had two small, pitch-black holes—the whole left hand, along with the arm, had swollen and turned bluish black with twisted veins.
A snake bite wound.
Yan Budu quietly observed the wound for a while. His face gradually transformed from a relaxed expression to a twisted smile, then into unrestrained laughter.
He seemed to have encountered the most amusing thing in the world, laughing so hard that he coughed repeatedly, struggling for breath.
“Venerable, is this the cycle of fate? Is this karmic retribution? Why do I feel like it’s a stroke of luck for me?”
The venom of the lotus snake was extremely toxic, and once bitten, even severing the limbs would be useless. Kongshi immediately administered treatment and possessed profound skills to suppress the snake’s poison with inner force, which allowed him to survive until now.
Unfortunately, delay could only be delayed.
With his profound inner force and close coordination with Kongshi’s true qi, there was a slight possibility of purging the snake’s venom and saving his life.
But within the vast Zongwu Mountain, extending for hundreds of miles, only the two of them were present. The only one who could save Kongshi was Yan Budu himself.
Could there be a more marvelous situation than this?
“Baldy, do you know what I’m thinking?” Yan Budu asked.
Kongshi ceased his recitation, calmly looked at Yan Budu, and replied, “Patron is thinking about how to tempt this humble monk with greed, hatred, and ignorance.”
“Correct. Since I have nothing better to do, I will explain it to you in detail.”
Yan Budu’s face was adorned with an extremely bright smile; the smile, blending with the blood vessels all over his body, sent a chilling sensation to anyone who saw him.
“I have figured out your precious and formidable Nightmare Breaking technique long ago. I can break the formation and leave the mountain on my own… I was considering whether to strike from behind. But this level of ‘betrayal’ wouldn’t catch Venerable’s attention.”
“Then I thought, why not pretend to be defeated by you and let you leave the mountain. My disciples have been waiting outside, ready to poison you when the opportunity arises. I could bring you back to our sect and slowly reeducate you. But Venerable has a strong character and probably won’t yield easily. If, by any chance, I accidentally kill Venerable, wouldn’t that be a loss?”
“Finally, I thought, why not go with you to the Jianchen Temple and then risk my life to kill the leader, that old bald donkey, in front of you? That would surely change your expression, wouldn’t it?”
“…Who would have thought that the plans of men are no match for those of the heavens. The arrangements of the heavens are even more intriguing than what I had imagined.”
Kongshi remained motionless as a mountain. “Patron has the strength to speak so many words. The reputation of the ice peak snake lotus is well-deserved.”
“Venerable, are you truly foolish or pretending to be foolish? Now, you’re not merely feeding yourself to the tiger, but actually returning it to the mountain.”
As the potency of the medicine increased, Yan Budu’s profound skills allowed his blood-red eyes to shine like ghostly flames. He reached out his hands, cupping Kongshi’s cheeks, forcing him to make eye contact.
“The head of the Jianchen Temple, sacrificing yourself to save me—truly an audacious move. Come, look at me closely—this talk of karmic retribution is nothing more than a hopeless struggle of the weak; a complete self-deception.”
As the snake venom spread and the vitality in Kongshi’s eyes gradually faded. He slightly raised his head, neither breaking free from Yan Budu’s grip nor averting his gaze; his eyes were as calm as an ancient well without a ripple.
A composure that irritated others.
“When I leave this place, I will kill countless people and set their flesh on fire when I return to Huilian Mountain. But it’s different for Venerable. If Venerable survives, he could save thousands of lives… It’s not very cost-effective, trading one life for another.”
Yan Budu attempted to find hatred, confusion, or regret in Kongshi’s eyes.
But he found nothing.
“Think about it. When I spread this news, how much infamy will the Jianchen Temple bear among the ‘vast multitude of sentient beings’? …If you truly care about all beings, why not kneel down and beg me? If I’m pleased, perhaps I’ll grant you some inner force and let you leave the mountain alive.”
He once again tried to find hesitation, worry, or entreaty in Kongshi’s eyes.
Yet, he still found nothing. The suffering of the mortal world rolled by, but those eyes remained untouched by the slightest dust.
Kongshi’s cheeks grew cold, and his complexion became somewhat grayish.
The venom of the lotus snake was extremely poisonous, turning the internal organs to mush and causing unbearable pain. Although the monk should have been in excruciating agony, that annoying calmness remained undisturbed, without a ripple.
The two of them remained in a stalemate.
Yan Budu knelt on the chessboard, bowing down with one leg while his hands cupped Kongshi’s face. The two were so close that it seemed they were about to kiss, yet frozen like an ice sculpture caught in the wintry wind, suspended in mid-air.
Kongshi calmly gazed back. There was a moment when Yan Budu felt that he was not facing a living being, but a stone-carved Buddha.
This person was simply incomprehensible. Yan Budu couldn’t see through him, couldn’t understand him.
Even though he looked down at the other’s face from above, he faintly felt a sense of pity.
After a brief silence, Kongshi spoke again. It wasn’t a plea for mercy, but a gentle conversation. “After just taking the medicine, your meridians are weak. It’s better to sit up straight and continue cultivating.”
“You…”
The surroundings grew colder, and the color on Yan Budu’s face finally faded. For the first time, he failed to disguise his thoughts and let them show on his face.
It shouldn’t be like this.
He had seen too many people who understood righteousness, weeping and begging for mercy as death approached. Even if ordinary people met their deaths bravely, death came swiftly. Yan Budu understood better than anyone the terror of a slow approach to death.
But he couldn’t find a trace of fear in Kongshi’s eyes—not even a shred of it.
Yan Budu suddenly shuddered. His gaze toward Kongshi became increasingly suspicious and uncertain.
“I won’t save you.”
He mumbled, his lips trembling.
“It’s useless for you to wait here, and it’s useless to pretend everything is fine. I haven’t had some bullshit enlightenment, don’t you understand? I won’t help you. I never intended to save you from the beginning.”
Kongshi remained unmoved, continuing to recite sutras as before.
“You will die here with your corpse exposed in the wilderness, unattended, cursed for a hundred years. You…”
Yan Budu didn’t even blink his eyes. He released his grip on Kongshi’s face and licked his lips. His tone revealed a slight wavering.
“…You’re a monster. Are you truly an emotionless and heartless stone?”
Kongshi halted his silent recitation and casually replied, “I confess, this humble monk enjoys eating apricots. It can be considered a preference shared by some living beings.”
If it weren’t for the decay and darkness on his left arm, based on his tone alone, this monk seemed like an ordinary person with no concerns.
Yan Budu slowly returned to his straw cushion; his face devoid of any trace of a smile.
Undoubtedly, Kongshi saw through his agitation. “Amitabha, Patron’s state of mind is unstable. It would be better for both of us to continue this game and steady our minds.”
Yan Budu had nothing to say.
Facing a game that was nearly halfway through and a monk who was about to die, he had exhausted his efforts and racked his brain, but he couldn’t find any words more cruel. Countless interrogations and threats, in the presence of this stone-like monk, turned into bluster and empty intimidation.
“Patron, it’s your turn to make a move.”
Yan Budu stared blankly at Kongshi.
The monk’s expression was gentle, just like on the day they first met, the moment Yan Budu stepped into the cave.
After a moment, Yan Budu seemed to have realized something.
He slowly smiled again, revealing a hint of bitterness in his smile. “So that’s how it is. A whole month, with thoughts and emotions exchanged… It was all in vain. I was the one who went too far.”
He had exposed his true intentions and worked so hard, but in the end, it was all self-indulgence. In the presence of this person, there was no such thing as closeness or distance in human relationships.
“Kongshi, from the beginning, the ‘me’ in your eyes was never really ‘me’, was it?”
After a month had passed, all that calmness and gentleness were just projections of the formless sentient beings in this person’s eyes.
Whether Yan Budu was a three-year-old child or a hundred-year-old elder, whether he had hidden motives or was naturally wicked, he was nothing more than an ordinary stone in this person’s eyes.
From the moment Yan Budu stepped into the cave, Kongshi’s attitude had never changed even a bit, not one bit more or less.
Indeed, equality among all sentient beings!
“People all say that I am the most heartless one. But now it seems that you, Venerable, surpass me in that aspect.”
Kongshi smiled faintly. “Patron, you overestimate me.”
Time passed unhurriedly, cruelly silent.
Yan Budu rested his elbow on the stone chessboard while his ten fingers ran through his hair, no longer the confident and spirited self from before. He didn’t make a move and just clenched his teeth, remaining silent.
“…Patron, if you can’t think of a way to break the stalemate, this humble monk has a suggestion.”
The monk lowered his head slightly, as if observing the game that was already more than halfway played.
“Speak your mind.”
“Patron, why not try doing one good deed? One should be enough.”
Yan Budu sneered coldly. “Nonsense. Instead of wasting time thinking about such pointless things, it’s better to save your breath and live a little longer.”
Whether in the game or outside of it, the battle between black and white, good and evil, was deadlocked and difficult to determine. Faced with an opponent without any flaws, how could he win?
Oh well, Yan Budu thought with a sense of confusion. In any case, he couldn’t give up on attacking.
After pondering for a while, Yan Budu tightly gripped the blood-stained stone chess piece. “Venerable, I…”
But before he could finish his sentence, he immediately fell silent.
It was too quiet.
The silence was not from the cave itself. The fire continued to burn, and the sound of the storm could be faintly heard from outside the cave. The iron bowl still held a bit of medicinal soup, and the stone sword quietly leaned against the corner. The edges of the monk’s robe trailed in the dust, stirring up a bit of brownish-gray dirt.
Everything was in its place, but the sound of Kongshi’s breathing had disappeared.
The monk remained calm, his palms joined together in prayer. He sat in front of the chessboard, still like an ancient, solitary peak that had stood there since time immemorial.
Yan Budu slowly released the chess piece. It made a slight sound as it touched the chessboard; a sound that, against the backdrop of the silence, was as loud as thunder.
In the end, they never finished this game. Just like the passing of countless days and nights, it was nothing more than a fleeting illusion, without a beginning or an end.
Yan Budu sat expressionless in front of the chessboard, motionless, until the long night was about to end and the snow reflected a faint light.
“You, monk, couldn’t you at least wait for me to finish this move?”
Finally, he stood up, muttering to himself almost inaudibly.
“When an eminent monk passes away, there are often signs. But now, looking at it, it’s just a pile of dead flesh, rotting away.”
After that, Yan Budu never spoke again.
The night gave way to dawn.
Yan Budu chose a sunny slope nearby and dug a crude pit with his huge sword, burying Kongshi on the mountainside. He didn’t erect a tombstone, only placing the stone chessboard to serve as a marker. When he left, he didn’t even look back.
Although the world was vast outside the cave, this time Yan Budu didn’t keep his audience waiting for long.
The winter snow melted, and the seasons passed.
In the blink of an eye, the mountain was still a mountain, devoid of snow in all directions, only revealing stretches of desolate grass. The makeshift grave that could hardly be called a grave was covered by weeds, making it difficult to discern.
But Yan Budu remained the same.
He was still wearing the clothes from that day. His face was no longer marked by dark blood vessels, restoring his previous enchanting appearance. The previous sense of despair seemed to have been nothing more than an illusion. He still wore that arrogant expression of self-importance.
However, he now had a jar of wine and a roasted chicken in his hands.
“After descending from the mountain, I encountered many extraordinary things.”
Yan Budu sat cross-legged, deliberately dividing some wine and meat as an offering to the monk. He casually rambled on, as if they were still having a conversation in front of the chessboard.
“I even met an immortal, believe it or not. Unfortunately, they couldn’t stand my demon fish eyes, so I can’t show you any images.”
As he spoke, he coughed up a mouthful of blood and then drank it down with a bowl of wine.
“On that day, you asked me about my plans after ascending to immortality. Now that I’ve seen ancient immortal villages and magnificent celestial palaces, I have to say, those immortals are more boring than I imagined…”
The stone chessboard stood alone, and the wine flowed slowly along its edges. Silence pervaded the surroundings, only interrupted by the sounds of insects chirping in the grass.
Yan Budu laughed—a laugh filled with unparalleled recklessness.
“They gave me a fantastic toy, you know. I had been longing for it, but when I finally got it, it was rather underwhelming. It’s better to leave it for the younger generation to fight over and to see the true faces of the immortals. It will surely be a sight to behold, stirring up the heavens and the earth, quite exhilarating.”
“As for the Ling Sect, I have taken care of it. I have arranged everything regarding the other clues, including my precious tomb… When I built the tomb, I didn’t leave a way back. Now, clearing away the monsters and reducing the killing intent is even more difficult than setting up traps.”
“In another hundred years, a group of people will come rushing about. But even if they find the place, all they will discover is a lock.”
Yan Budu waved his sleeve, and a jade-colored object flew away with the wind. It deeply embedded itself into the stone chessboard, creating a hole like a final move. The unfinished game from the past finally reached its conclusion, just as it was in the beginning.
But this time, it was Yan Budu who took the initiative to set up the formation. Three cycles of calamities; a draw.
“The key—I left it with you. You can see with your own eyes how those younger ones tear each other apart. It seems that you, Venerable, have accumulated great merits. A hundred years from now, you might even be one of the ones they fight over.”
Having said that, he fell silent again, as if waiting for a response.
But of course, no one answered.
Gradually, the wine was finished, and only a skeleton remained of the meat. Yan Budu stretched lazily and gazed at the blood-like sunset.
“After consuming the ‘Shirou’, one can ascend to immortality in a single step. But in this world, no one understands themselves better than I do. After achieving immortality, in a few months, I will surely be in the embrace of soft jade and sweet fragrance, completely forgetting about that wretched cave.”
“However, I can no longer find a second cave. So, slowly forgetting about it seems like a waste.”
Yan Budu lit his smoking pipe and leisurely exhaled white smoke.
“Lastly, regarding your suggestion of ‘doing a good deed’. As long as I remain myself, regardless of what I give, if the recipient is an upright person, they are destined to have an unfavorable end.”
“One good deed requires a clear reputation. Venerable, in the end, you still want to save me… How beautiful.”
As the sky darkened, the flame in the smoking pipe gradually extinguished.
Yan Budu stood up, gazing at the stone chessboard in front of him. His smile was arrogant, and his crimson eyes were full of vitality, undiminished from years past.
“In this lifetime, I, Yan Budu, have killed countless people without regret. Witnessing death without saving, I have no regrets. You believe in reincarnation, but I do not. Heaven and earth are vast and distant, if I can’t see it, then I can’t see it.”
“But if you don’t repay that favor, it will weigh heavily on my heart. With your good moves, I have my wicked solution. Watch closely, Kongshi. Today, I will perform the greatest ‘act of kindness’ in the world.”
With those words, it only took an instant.
Without hesitation, a sharp sword qi surged forth. It pierced Yan Budu’s own body, piercing through his heart, and scarlet blood splattered.
Yan Budu was a person who struck ruthlessly, without mercy, even towards himself.
“What a pity…”
He spat out his final breath of blood, silently laughing.
“…My immortal tomb took quite some effort.”
The sword qi shattered the fabric on Yan Budu’s chest, and a few round apricots rolled into the pool of blood. At his heart, along the edges of the black-red hole, a dark green spider-shaped birthmark lay quietly, gradually being covered by the fresh blood.
The Ghost Tomb remained vacant for ten years, and his half-life of immortality came to an end. A generational prodigy met his demise, ultimately becoming a tomb without a coffin or a burial mound.
Night fell, and the mountains remained.
The stone chess board lay peacefully in its original place, surrounded by overgrown weeds, with a gentle breeze brushing past.
The author has something to say:
In the end, a Demonic Lord is still a Demonic Lord, and an eminent monk is still an eminent monk.
The onion skin of the fox, quite perilous.
Kinky Thoughts:
The title of the chapter is (落子) which means to make a move (in Go). It has a double meaning in this context in that Kongshi died before they could finish their Go game, and Yan Budu returned to his grave both to make a move (finish the Go game) and actually make his move in the real world (his “act of kindness”).
I really love this chapter. I have to say it beautifully articulates how both “evil” and “righteousness” can be cruel. Yan Budu is evil in his actions and disregards human life, while Kongshi treats everything indifferently in that they are all equal in his eyes (with no feelings, emotions, or attachment). Truly beautiful!
Meng Huai’s bodily sensations were beyond the grasp of everyone present. However, the feeling of being completely exposed to the other side, except for Zhong Chengshuo, was clear to everyone else.
It was enough to make one feel disoriented—an unbearable torment even for a second.
Meng Huai was fortunate. As a long-time employee of Shian, she had the means to quickly calm her emotions. Perhaps by a stroke of luck, she imagined the office area in the afternoon—it might be the safest place in the world for her.
Her imagination was hurried and chaotic, and what she imagined was blurry. The entire office area was far less real than what they had previously seen, filled with various distortions, blurriness, and incompleteness, like a crude model with rendering errors.
In the center of this absurd model, Meng Huai held Zhong Chengfeng tightly. She was like a person climbing onto a broken plank in a raging flood, uncertain how long the current situation could be sustained. She didn’t know where they were headed either.
If it were someone else, they might have been crushed by this helplessness. But Meng Huai clung to this lifeline like a drowning person, using an almost terrifying intuition to desperately imagine perfecting this office area. The others watched as the floor became even, the walls became clear, but there were countless damages in the corners, revealing the chaotic movements of the damaged exterior.
This chaos was different from before—a group of predatory Primordial Elementals passed by, enveloping this unfortunate little room. Following these Elementals from the Other Side, the surrounding space changed repeatedly, flipping the world upside down dozens of times.
Meng Huai wedged herself tightly in the doorway of the restroom, preventing herself from losing consciousness due to the turbulence. After an unknown amount of time, this small space finally stabilized again, like a grain of sand settling down after being carried by a school of fish in the current.
It was at this moment that Zhong Chengfeng opened her eyes.
……
“If it weren’t for the fact that we could take care of each other, I would have gone insane long ago,” Meng Huai’s voice came from behind the others.
The imaginary office area gradually peeled away, revealing the present perfect reality of the office area. The imagination dispersed, and the others realized they were still in the same place, not having moved an inch.
Zhong Chengfeng’s nose was still red, but her emotions had already calmed down. She cleared her throat and took over from where Meng Huai left off. “It took us a full four years just to find a safe course of action. During that time, we also had breakdowns.”
Zhong Chengfeng walked to the whiteboard, picked up a red pen, and made a mark as well.
This time, the scene was still the real office area, but outside the window was pouring rain instead of the setting sun.
The interior view was real, making it even more terrifying.
The monitors on one side of the wall were all blacked out, and the white wall was filled with various incomprehensible words written in black and red ink. Meng Huai and Zhong Chengfeng sat facing each other, on the verge of madness.
They carried many “things” within them.
Meng Huai’s skin was embedded with various stone talismans, like growths on her flesh. The inanimate objects seamlessly merged into her skin without leaving a trace. She barely maintained a sitting position with her spine deeply bent.
On the other hand, Zhong Chengfeng had all sorts of miscellaneous objects embedded in her. Picture frames, notebooks, pens, medals—they penetrated beneath her skin, making her resemble a realistic doll, inflated and on the verge of bursting at any moment. She curled up in pain, and her body trembled slightly.
Behind Meng Huai stood a young-looking Li Nian—a college student. He appeared handsome, with relatively plump cheeks and no signs of the thinness and sharpness left by time. One of his hands rested on Meng Huai’s shoulder as he repeated a phrase.
“Meng Jie,” he reluctantly addressed her.
And behind Zhong Chengfeng stood her parents.
“Fengfeng,” they softly called.
Meng Huai lifted her gaze with half of her face swallowed by the stone talismans, and only one bloodshot eye remained. “I can’t imagine it anymore, Chengfeng. I have a terrible headache.”
Zhong Chengfeng bitterly smiled. “I told you we’re already dead. This is hell… and you still don’t believe it.”
Zhong Chengshuo remained silent—he might not understand the subtle emotions involved, but he knew that under immense pressure, people inevitably fantasized about their “cherished ones”.
Just like his own “death”, Yin Ren made a mock flesh puppet of him.
They had been confined in this room for four years, unaware of the outside world and ignorant of their own situation. Even without food and water issues, it was likely more mentally challenging than being stranded on a deserted island. The transformations occurring in these two individuals were somewhat reminiscent of Jiao Lian and Fu Wuya, who were once Charons, most likely subjected to some form of corruption.
At that time, Shian knew next to nothing about the Other Side. These two people might have been wandering on the Other Side with their physical bodies. They had touched what they shouldn’t have touched, consumed what they shouldn’t have consumed, unknowingly violated numerous taboos.
The two deformed figures sat motionless in the center of the room, while their cherished ones stood behind them, mechanically calling out, as if summoning spirits.
Perhaps that was the final thread suspending their consciousness.
“No… we can’t.” Meng Huai struggled to clench her fingers tightly. “If we give up like this, everything will truly be over…”
Zhong Chengfeng blinked her eyes, almost obscured by the objects beneath her skin, revealing a trace of sorrow.
She didn’t speak, but her thoughts were evident in her eyes—by now, they were finished. Time had passed for who knew how long yet their bodies hadn’t aged, and the outside world was filled with endless nightmares. Unknowingly, their exploration outside had led them to become like this.
She lay still, and it seemed that even more objects were accumulating beneath her skin. They piled up on her body, threatening to bend her spine.
Meng Huai reached out her hand, and gradually, a sharp scalpel appeared in her hand.
“Come on, Chengfeng.” She pointed to her legs and feet filled with talismans and stones. “Cut them all off.”
“But you…” Zhong Chengfeng hesitated.
Meng Huai clenched her teeth, and the surgical knife in her hand gleamed coldly. “I don’t know what the situation is here, but I know this is a predominantly psychological space… Perhaps all these things on our bodies are manifestations of mental breakdown. When a person… When their mind is trapped in a dead end, they need external assistance…”
Her tone was extremely difficult.
“If my guess is correct… If you remove these things, I won’t die from loss of blood or anything. If things go smoothly on my side, I’ll help you…”
Zhong Chengfeng extended her deformed arm, “And if it doesn’t go smoothly?”
Meng Huai smiled.
“Then we’ll die together,” she said. “We have each other, so we won’t be alone on the road to the beyond.”
Zhong Chengfeng also smiled with a hint of tears in her laughter as she tightened her grip on the scalpel.
The blade pierced the boundary between the stones and the skin, causing Meng Huai to let out a cry of pain. She exerted all her strength, forcing herself not to struggle or resist. Meng Huai shifted her position, turning her head to look at the upright Li Nian behind her.
“Xiao Li.” She struggled to reach out her hand. “I know this isn’t like you, but… but…”
The imagined “Li Nian” crouched down, grabbing her hand.
“Meng Jie,” he repeated like an exquisitely crafted human repeater. “Meng Jie.”
Meng Huai closed her eyes.
……
Zhong Chengfeng promptly stopped the scene—no one wanted to witness their colleagues or loved ones being tortured.
“In any case, by the tenth year, we were able to freely move outside. Meng Huai will tell you about the methods and procedures later.”
She coughed twice.
“In the following time, we were constantly searching for that white space. According to Meng Huai, there seem to be many people inside. Then, rescuing people became the pillar that sustained the two of us…”
“And then they rescued me.”
The person named “Xiao Zheng”, who was the rear commander, said.
“I accidentally entered here two years ago, not inside that white space. If it weren’t for their timely discovery, I would have probably died in madness.”
“What happened to you?” Huang Jin asked cautiously.
Xiao Zheng’s expression turned bitter. “That day, I was in a hurry to go home for my child’s birthday… I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings and walked through a door that shouldn’t exist.”
Xiao Zheng’s account seemed familiar. He said that beyond that door was an endlessly looping Shian building, devoid of anyone. He couldn’t find his way back or figure out how to leave. After enduring a week, Xiao Zheng couldn’t bear it any longer. He pried open the elevator doors and intended to jump down the elevator shaft to commit suicide.
Zhong Chengshuo: “Interstitial space.”
Similar structures exist within Sunken Society’s stronghold.
Xiao Zheng forced a smile. “That’s what you call it? It’s more or less the middle ground. Anyway, after I jumped down the elevator shaft, I fell for several days before landing in this place… Haha, at that time, I was almost half-crazed. It was pure luck that they found me.”
“Later on, we also encountered unlucky individuals like me. Most of them were drained by the Elementals after going mad, leaving only a faint impression.”
Xiao Zheng gestured vaguely.
“It’s like the shadows of people after an atomic bomb explosion, stuck on the tunnel walls, not easily noticeable if you don’t look closely.”
After listening to his account, Huang Jin became even more cautious. “Wait, are you really from Shian? You disappeared only two years ago. You must know that Li Nian is the Minister, so why does Meng Huai seem unaware?”
Xiao Zheng looked at Huang Jin in shock. “Brother, I had just joined Shian not long ago, as a C-level investigation team. I only knew the higher-ups with the surname Li… It’s not like you guys don’t know what C-level tasks are like. It’s all similar to stiff like in <Approaching Science>. How could you possibly have encountered the Emergency Management Department?”
Huang Jin, Ge Tingting, Lu Xiaohe: “…”
Indeed, it seemed they hadn’t encountered an actual C-level task before.
What was a C-level task supposed to be like? Why couldn’t they remember? They only remembered meeting Fu Xingchuan every day, and Li Nian would be there tomorrow, so much so that Unit 9 even had two reserved seats for the two leaders.
Whose fault was this, exactly?
Since the Great Celestial Master wasn’t present, they all turned to Zhong Chengshuo, who met their gaze with an innocent expression.
“So, you’ve been investigating the whereabouts of the remaining missing individuals all along.” Zhong Chengshuo skillfully changed the topic.
Meng Huai curiously glanced at the subtly nuanced Shian personnel, but fortunately, it seemed she didn’t want to continue discussing “Li Nian becoming a Minister”. “Yes, and just last year, we found that white space. However, it was different from when I first escaped. There were many powerful Elementals guarding the outside now. If you try to go out, it’s no different from sending yourself to be captured.”
She shook her head, her expression turning solemn.
“This brings us to the key question—why did we attack that group of ‘Lonelies’? All of you, come with me.”
Dr. Cat climbed onto Fu Tianyi’s head in three swift movements and patted the back of his head with its paws. Zhong Chengshuo ran even faster, quickly catching up to Meng Huai.
Meng Huai walked straight to the entrance of the restroom and pushed the door open.
Instantly, the damp air turned icy cold. Zhong Chengshuo took a quick glance, and his expression froze for a few seconds.
Behind the restroom was a massive cold storage room, the product of someone’s imagination. And within this huge cold storage room hung the bodies of small Elementals, packed tightly together. One side had dark-colored organs, while the other side had pale-colored organs, arranged neatly and distinctly, resembling a slaughterhouse cold storage.
Zhong Chengshuo thought silently, ‘…It’s a good thing that Dog Thing is still with Yin Ren and didn’t come here. Otherwise, its power might have been scared into negative numbers right away.’
“Welcome to ‘Shian’s Temporary Branch Armory’,” Meng Huai said.
All the bodies emitted varying degrees of Evil Force. Fu Tianyi silently lowered Dr. Cat’s paw pad and covered his own eyes—it was the first time he had encountered a corruption source of this magnitude, even on a farmer’s market level.
“I saw earlier that you mixed the flesh and blood of two different Elementals together.”
Only Zhong Chengshuo still maintained his complete interest.
Meng Huai nodded. “Yes, you should know that these things can be divided into two categories—Fear represents the initial branch, while Satisfaction represents the other. They can roughly be classified as negative emotions in black and positive emotions in white.”
Meng Huai casually took out two small packets, each containing a small bag of Elemental flesh.
“For example, this one, the black one represents ‘Contempt’, and the white one represents ‘Longing’. When they are mixed together, there will be a clear repulsion reaction.”
She dabbed a bit from each side and vigorously rubbed them together, murmuring to herself. In the next moment, the mixture emitted a faint red light.
“By utilizing the power of this repulsive reaction, I can create some simple spells… The ones from the human world, you don’t even need to think about them. They won’t work.”
Zhong Chengshuo, who didn’t understand, asked, “Why?”
“The spells in the human world are built upon the circulation of evil qi, just like burning firewood,” Meng Huai explained concisely. “Tools designed specifically for burning firewood cannot be directly used to burn gasoline.”
After speaking, Meng Huai revealed a sense of relief.
“Thankfully, I can use this method. Unfortunately, they are all basic things—very simple and primitive. But now that so many cultivators have returned, I finally have a way to discuss optimization.”
When it came to his area of expertise, Huang Jin became enthusiastic. “These are all small Elementals, right? If we obtained the flesh and blood of larger Elementals, would the effects be stronger?”
Meng Huai bared her teeth at him. “Little brother, are nuclear weapons powerful?”
“Uh, powerful?”
“Then should we give every police officer a nuclear warhead?”
Huang Jin: “…”
“It’s just that I got lucky… That white room was undoubtedly made by a big shot. Even just that bell, with a bit of Evil Force can produce such a strong effect. If it were true body parts, Chengfeng and I would have been reduced to ashes long ago.”
Meng Huai clapped her hands.
“By the way, if it’s two big shots of equal strength, even if they are of the same kind, there would still be this repulsion reaction. But it’s difficult to determine such a situation. We can’t beat the big shots, so it’s safer to use the black and white combination.”
Huang Jin quickly moved his steps, distancing himself from Zhong Chengshuo.
Zhong Chengshuo secretly played with the phalanges in his hand. “Whether it’s the repulsion between positive and negative, or the incompatibility between strong individuals of the same kind, does the state of the flesh itself also matter for the reaction to be intense?”
Zhong Chengfeng was startled by her own cheeky brother’s insight. “How do you know that?”
Zhong Chengshuo remained uncharacteristically silent for a while before speaking. “I’m just guessing too. If the reaction appeared randomly, with Primordial Elementals constantly fighting each other internally, the Other Side would have been blown to pieces long ago.”
In fact, it wasn’t just a guess.
He and Yin Ren had indulged in wild and absurd nights several times, inevitably involving biting and kissing. If mere physical contact would cause an explosion, Haigu would likely be leveled by the two of them.
Unfortunately, Meng Huai didn’t know the secret behind it and simply thought the young man had a quick mind. She nodded approvingly. “It’s a pity. If you weren’t a science post, you would have great potential.”
The members of Unit 9 looked at the sky and the ground.
Meng Huai snapped her fingers. “Next, I will teach you how to use the flesh and blood of the Elementals.”
“Can I listen in?” Zhong Chengshuo asked, squeezing his knuckles.
“Of course.”
……
“Next, I will teach you how to survive on the Other Side,” Qi Xin said.
Yin Ren leaned against the soft pile of cats and nodded solemnly.
Qi Xin made an effort not to look at the “Lonelies” scattered all over the place. “Your weaknesses, in my opinion, are laughable—your emotions are unstable, and you have too much humanity.”
“‘Lacking humanity’ is an insult,” Yin Ren retorted. Without any companions around, he was unable to hold back.
“But you’re not human,” Qi Xin replied coldly. “’Disgust’ and ‘Love’ thrive on human emotions, and they are the ones most affected by human influence, yet they haven’t turned into an indecisive mess like you.”
“According to your own words… the first time, in the Fu Residence corpse cage, you nearly lost control due to the influence of ‘attachment’. The second time, you took the poorly made ‘Innocent Thoughts’ created by humans, and your behavior went completely out of control. The third time, you fought against ‘Joy’ and, in order to avoid the influence of the other party’s emotions, you handed control of the battle over to Old Fear.”
Indeed. Yin Ren shrunk his neck.
Qi Xin’s tone grew colder. “You should be the Fear that devours all emotions, yet you have managed to reach this point where even a random cat or dog can make you lose control—separating emotions to a certain extent is an innate skill of all Primordial Elementals. Your condition, if compared to humans, is similar to having an ‘immunity deficiency’.”
Perhaps because he wasn’t created by the heroic mother, “Satisfaction”, but rather as a result of Zhong Chengshuo cutting up half his body, he might even be a premature Elemental. However, looking at the intimidating Qi Xin, Yin Ren suppressed his inner thoughts and asked, “So what should I do?”
Qi Xin had mentioned that her training would be painful and dangerous.
Based on the TV melodramas Yin Ren had seen, at this point, he should either go for a realistic approach like “bone marrow transplant for leukemia” or take the fantastical route of “bidding farewell to the mortal world on the path of ruthlessness”. Yin Ren straightened his back nervously, no longer using the cat cushion.
Qi Xin smiled with that creepy smile again.
“It’s simple,” she said. “Just wait here.”
…The fewer the words, the more significant the matter, and Yin Ren became even more nervous. “Wait for who?”
“Wait for ‘Satisfaction’.”
Qi Xin crossed her arms and had a slightly gloating expression on her face.
Oh no, it seems like it’s not a TV melodrama but Animal World.
Those birds that kicked their offspring out of the nest and forced them to learn to fly on their own might have a similar expression to Qi Xin’s right now.
“You just need to break free from Satisfaction, then you’ll pass.” Qi Xin’s smile grew wider and wider. “Fear and Satisfaction are evenly matched and naturally antagonistic. There is no better training ground than this.”
[I’ll go with you!] Gao Mengyu’s cat, draped in a tablecloth, approached. [I need to pass through it to continue warning Gao Mengyu.]
Yin Ren didn’t object anymore and gripped the soft paw of the cat. “Will I die?”
Qi Xin shook her head. “No, at most, you’ll go insane. By then, I can only try my best to eat you and go find Love for a one-on-one duel.”
Yin Ren: “…”
“You better prove yourself. Don’t make me do those superficial activities.” Qi Xin’s eyes narrowed, and her entire face resembled a mask with narrow slits.
If he wanted to avoid these troublesome matters, now was probably the best chance, Yin Ren instinctively thought.
“I understand. When do we start?” Yin Ren asked.
He just recalled the previous sense of powerlessness, but in an instant, the thought of escape vanished like a dewdrop on a lotus leaf, rolling away.
[It’s coming soon.]
This time, the cat answered Yin Ren.
As native Elemental, for Qi Xin and the cat, the existence of “Satisfaction” might not be much different from a gentle morning breeze. Since “Satisfaction” would come on its own, Yin Ren could only strive to keep his emotions stable and stand quietly in place.
Disgust, Joy, Love, Sorrow. He had the fortune of experiencing the essence of these four.
Speaking of which, he seemed to have never seen the true original appearance of Zhong Chengshuo. In his memory, there were only endless black lakes in the cliffs and the chaotic rabbit jumping and crawling beside the lake. But at that time, Zhong Chengshuo’s body was already torn apart, in a state of struggling for survival.
He had never seen his lover’s true form.
So what would “Satisfaction”, which corresponded to Zhong Chengshuo, look like?
Suddenly, the cats in the courtyard stopped lounging around. They stood up one by one, hastily folding their own tablecloths and hugging them in their soft paws. In the previously silent space, a soft rustling sound suddenly emerged, like the waves of the sea. The sound wasn’t loud, but juxtaposed with the previous silence, it was like a thunderclap.
What was it?
Yin Ren turned around and looked towards the source of the sound.
Then he was rendered speechless.
In Yin Ren’s imagination, Satisfaction might be something like the waves of the sea. It might be much larger than an ordinary Elemental, flooding every corridor and covering the entire Other Side. However, reality proved that his imagination was still conservative.
It was like the line between day and night.
…There was no gradual submersion, but in an instant, it irresistibly and indiscriminately covered everything. The texture of “Satisfaction” appeared to be countless melted brains and nerves, radiating a pure white color, like swirling clouds.
Like the rising sun, the white light instantly engulfed Yin Ren’s vision.
Unstoppable, unavoidable, and impossible to escape. It was like no one could escape the rising sun, capable of covering the first rays of dawn.
In an instant, Yin Ren understood many things, such as why billions of years ago, they would have an infinite fear of “Fear”, and why the creatures of the Other Side didn’t think that “Fear” would be conscious thousands of years ago.
Just a being that governed birth, “Satisfaction” made even someone like him who had experienced storms and waves feel instinctive awe. How could something of this scale, something so close to a natural phenomenon, possess consciousness?
If… If the previous “Fear” was also like this, then his current self could only be described as a cub.
Next, the suffering would begin.
According to Qi Xin, “Fear” and “Satisfaction” were naturally antagonistic, and in the realm of competition, there was always someone stronger. As an ignorant cub, he would undoubtedly be rejected by “Satisfaction”. Yin Ren cautiously closed off most of his senses, waiting for the impending ordeal.
It was like averting one’s gaze and waiting for a nurse to administer an injection—the feeling was truly agonizing.
One second passed, nothing happened, and Yin Ren relaxed his perception a little.
Five seconds passed, still nothing happened, and Yin Ren once again relaxed his perception a bit—his current state was like looking through the cracks between his fingers.
Surrounding him was an expanse of white, with extremely low visibility. Gao Mengyu’s cat was still by his feet, holding his wrist with soft paws. Qi Xin wasn’t far away, and she seemed to have used some technique to prevent the coverage of “Satisfaction”.
In a slightly further distance, mist spun out of nowhere, forming milky white whirlpools.
The whirlpools spun faster and faster, with the central white part gradually darkening and solidifying. After a few seconds, several fist-sized “Lonely” cats trembled and appeared. They stood confused in place, and their sticky limbs reached out in disarray. Some larger cats with tablecloths draped over them crawled over, bundled them up with the tablecloths, and dragged them back to their group.
Newborns.
Gao Mengyu’s cat vigorously waved its soft paws, creating a huge white vortex in the space. It tightly grasped the still-dazed Yin Ren and rushed toward the vortex like a jellyfish.
Before Yin Ren could express his opinion, suddenly, a pile of jumbled and scattered bones appeared behind him. That pile of bones forcefully pushed him, almost stuffing him into the vortex. The force was so strong that if they were in the mortal world, Yin Ren suspected he would have been pushed out of the atmosphere.
That was definitely Qi Xin’s true form.
Yin Ren: “…” What if he successfully transformed into an adult Fear? Wasn’t she afraid of him holding a grudge?
Before he could finish pondering, countless “bubbles” squeezed in. They flashed with a soapy sheen within the white brain matter, incredibly beautiful. However, as they lightly brushed past, the pain was almost enough to make Yin Ren want to dig out his brain.
Those were pieces of information, condensed to the extreme—chaotic information. If the Other Side was a well-ordered internet, then these bubbles were like compressed packages containing countless chaotic consciousness. They expanded and burst in his mind, pouring out numerous emotions like surprise blind boxes.
In just a second, Yin Ren almost fainted.
The cat seemed to be unaware of everything. It clung to Yin Ren with its soft limbs, anxiously navigating through the squeezed bubbles. This time, the frequency of brain explosions increased. Amidst the onslaught of emotions like a gusty storm, his consciousness was like a flickering candle flame that could extinguish at any moment.
No wonder… the previous Fear… lacked emotions…
Only a vegetative-like void could contain so many, so complex…
“Dream.”
Qi Xin’s voice rang out from behind Yin Ren.
“Human beings cannot handle the information of the Other Side; it is said to be a realm of chaos. But in reality, the Other Side is simply too rich in information, and humans don’t know how to deal with it. The Other Side has always operated within order, and it is here that true chaos exists.”
Countless creatures’ dreams, which was the only way for the spirit to self-repair.
Without reason, without logic, only boundless, kaleidoscopic projections of emotions.
[It’s her!]
The cat discovered something, exclaiming in joy. It released Yin Ren’s wrist and swam towards an ordinary-looking bubble. When it reached its destination, it tightly embraced the bubble, attempting to squeeze its eyeballs inside.
[You go ahead, I need to focus.] It solemnly declared.
“Wait…”
Amidst the collision of countless dreams, Yin Ren forcibly held onto his consciousness.
“Is… it Gao Mengyu’s dream… Can you help me… convey a message…”
Finishing his words, he mustered his strength and imprinted a series of words into the cat’s mind.
Just as he completed this task, a dream collided directly with his face. The infinite emotions within the dream exploded in his mind, and Yin Ren completely lost consciousness.
“That’s enough.”
Qi Xin coldly floated in the distance.
The most primal, most chaotic emotions didn’t give any chance for logical understanding and digestion. All they could do was provide repeated and intense stimulation.
Like a whetstone, they could quickly grind away the least important parts. Qi Xin casually tapped on a bubble, causing it to burst into tears at her fingertips.
“Cub, ‘humanity’ is your biggest weakness,” she said.
“To survive as a top-tier Primordial Elemental, you must discard it. Choose between ‘maturity’ or ‘humanity’… If you want both, all that awaits you is madness.”
At the same time.
Gao Mengyu abruptly woke up from her dream, sweat covering her forehead. Barefoot, she ran to the telephone and dialed the Emergency Management Department’s number directly.
“The dream has changed. I’ve received information from Unit 9,” she urgently said.
Meng Huai was quite tall, while Lu Xiaohe, standing near her, appeared petite.
Lu Xiaohe’s mental and physical energy couldn’t hold on for long against the overwhelming memories. They melted and shattered like wafers, revealing the scenes behind her.
The “Lonely” cats took the opportunity to huddle together openly, hiding behind the group of people. Huang Jin and Ge Tingting stood still, with Huang Jin tightly holding Ge Tingting, whose face turned red. They both looked at Qi Xin. Fu Tianyi held Dr. Cat tightly in his arms, nervously holding his breath.
The expressions of Yin Ren and Zhong Chengshuo were different, as if their souls had been exchanged—Yin Ren’s lips were tightly pursed and his mouth turned downward, while Zhong Chengshuo fixedly gazed at Lu Xiaohe’s back with eyes filled with a questioning look.
Meng Huai crossed her arms and still stood at the forefront of the trio. She narrowed her eyes and carefully observed Lu Xiaohe for a while.
“Alright.” She ruffled her hair. “I believe you’re not a person from Sunken Society.”
Upon hearing this, the man behind her immediately showed a hesitant expression. Meng Huai seemed to have eyes on the back of her head as she responded without turning around, “What’s the matter, Xiao Zheng? Do you have any objections to my judgment?”
“I just thought it would be better to be more cautious…”
Meng Huai: “People from Sunken Society wouldn’t be able to show these emotions. If we’re talking about cognitive pollution, I don’t have that much imagination. These arguments seem a bit subjective. Well, let’s say they’re sixty percent accurate.”
The man’s eyebrows twitched, but he remained silent. Yin Ren was familiar with this helpless expression. It was the same expression that Professor Li wore every time he faced the various “intuitions” of Fu Xingchuan.
Being recognized so quickly, even Lu Xiaohe herself showed a trace of disagreement on her face.
Meng Huai didn’t waste any more words. “Miss Lu, let me answer the question you care about the most. I haven’t seen your mother but given that you came here to search for missing people, I probably know where she is.”
After finishing her sentence, she added succinctly, “No one has died or gone insane in the past month, so your mother is definitely fine.”
Her tone was sharp and domineering, making these words sound genuine and convincing.
Lu Xiaohe felt her whole body sway as if a force had been sucked out of her. However, she still stood her ground, trying hard to suppress the relaxation on her face. “But you…”
But she was still unsure if the people in front of her were genuine.
“They are human,” Qi Xin said disappointedly when she realized there would be no fight. “If you don’t intend to fight, don’t waste any more of my time.”
She glanced somewhat regretfully at Yin Ren. Yin Ren pretended not to understand that look—anything that couldn’t force Yin Ren to take action was considered a waste of time in Qi Xin’s eyes.
In a sense, “Sorrow” wasn’t any better than “Love”. Ms. Qi only wanted to train her cub; she genuinely didn’t care about the life or death of humans.
Meng Huai glanced at everyone and beckoned with her finger. “It’s not convenient to talk here. Miss Lu, Mr. Zhong… You, you, you, and that cat, come with me.”
Her finger smoothly pointed at Ge Tingting, Huang Jin, and Fu Tianyi holding the cat, deliberately skipping Yin Ren and Qi Xin.
Yin Ren couldn’t sit still anymore. “Ms. Meng, what’s the meaning of this?”
Meng Huai smiled slightly. “I’ll only take humans to the stronghold of humans. Sorry, but something feels off about you two.”
Qi Xin was quite satisfied with this outcome, and her tone became relieved. “Take them all, they’re yours.”
Mr. Zhong, pretending to be clueless, pondered for a moment and decided to play dumb. He comfortingly squeezed Yin Ren’s hand, took two steps, and walked to Ge Tingting and Huang Jin’s sides.
“I’ll be back soon. It’s a good opportunity to gather information,” Before leaving, Zhong Chengshuo said with a serious expression. “Take good care of yourself.”
Yin Ren: “…” Meng Huai’s intuition was quite remarkable, but unfortunately, she missed the biggest one.
Yin Ren: “Alright, I’ll wait nearby.”
Yin Ren wasn’t too worried about the safety of these people. Although Qi Xin didn’t care about humans, at least she wasn’t foolish—if anyone from Unit 9 died due to Qi Xin’s judgment, he would definitely turn against her. Since Qi Xin voluntarily vouched for them, there shouldn’t be any problem with the identities of these people on the Other Side.
Meng Huai didn’t want to reveal the true identities of the humans to a Primordial Elemental, which was understandable. At least the members of Unit 9 who went along would learn some self-defense skills. Meng Huai had managed to survive on the Other Side for nearly thirty years, so her methods must be quite formidable.
…Zhong Chengshuo might even be safer over there.
This thought was like a thorn that pricked Yin Ren as soon as it emerged. He couldn’t help but hold his breath and look at the retreating figures of his companions.
The two groups of humans met at the gate of the small courtyard.
Yin Ren watched as Zhong Chengshuo rushed to Zhong Chengfeng’s side, urgently saying something, and towards the end, the female officer cried and laughed. Meng Huai kept chatting non-stop with Lu Xiaohe, most likely confirming the situation at Shian.
The remaining rear commander seemed enthusiastic as they chatted with Dr. Cat—this person had only disappeared two years ago, so they must have heard about their famous feline colleague.
On the Other Side, even if the visual distance wasn’t far, Yin Ren still couldn’t hear what they were saying or read their lips. In the end, he could only withdraw his gaze dejectedly.
Gao Mengyu’s cat approached cautiously and rubbed against his hand with its soft limbs.
Yin Ren: “What’s the matter?”
“You smell delicious,” the cat said. “The person who used to feed me would occasionally emit this scent. At those times, she would always come to hug me. Do you want to hug me?”
Yin Ren gently touched the sticky and brain-like limbs of the cat. “Thank you, but no need.”
He watched as Zhong Chengshuo waved at him, and then the group disappeared into the vortex. Silence returned to the vicinity of the small courtyard, and the cats once again pulled out their tablecloth and started lounging on it.
In the vast courtyard, besides the “Lonelies” lying everywhere, only Yin Ren and Qi Xin remained.
Qi Xin: “Cub, what are you thinking?”
“I feel lonely, sad, and afraid, and I’m hungry, like a little match seller.” Yin Ren’s face drooped. “I hate this kind of quiet environment the most.”
“Those humans won’t die.” Qi Xin clumsily comforted. “The woman in charge knows what she’s doing. It was only just now that I realized the existence of those three humans.”
Yin Ren’s face drooped even more severely. “I understand the reasoning.”
Qi Xin fell silent for a moment, then gave up on the “comforting” route and instead asked straightforwardly, “So what’s your plan?”
Only then did Yin Ren turn his head. “I plan to do as you wish and gain power as soon as possible—to become strong enough to easily find those people and go to their side.”
“Oh, I like that.”
Qi Xin revealed that awkward smile again, seeming human yet not quite.
“I’ll say it upfront. The process will be painful and extremely dangerous—without Old Fear around, are you sure you want to try?”
Yin Ren didn’t hesitate for a second. “It’s precisely because he’s not around that I want to give it a try as much as possible.”
“Quite the ambitious bunch you all are,” Qi Xin rolled her eyes and muttered to herself.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
……
Meng Huai’s way of traveling was completely different from the cat legion.
She led everyone out of the tunnel, then took out some fresh black and white minced meat from her personal belongings. She mixed them together, put on a ring on her right hand, and pressed it firmly onto the mixture, drawing a simple symbol.
Compared to the exquisite and elegant magical rituals in the human world, this method was rough, like an ancient ceremony.
But it was effective.
In an instant, the surrounding space cracked like fish scales. Zhong Chengshuo’s vision was filled with wild colors swirling, and his footing shifted between solid and empty. When he stabilized himself, the scene before him had completely changed.
He had never seen this room before, but the door plaque was clear—Emergency Management Department’s dedicated office area.
The details of the room were vivid, and the view outside the window was beautiful. At first glance, Zhong Chengshuo even thought they had returned to the human world.
Under the afternoon sun, the tables and chairs were arranged haphazardly, and several whiteboards were filled with densely packed battle plans. Three camp beds were placed in the corner of the room, with a few pieces of clothing scattered on them. The door to the bathroom was ajar, emitting a damp smell.
On one side of the room, the screen wall in the office area continuously played various scenes.
If this was the real Emergency Management Department, it would probably display images of severe accidents or the latest data analysis from the science division. But at this moment, the scenes on the screen were heartwarming.
A young Zhong Chengfeng showed her parents her first police uniform with a face still carrying a hint of innocence. Young Meng Huai and Li Nian sat on the couch, snacking and watching horror movies. One laughed heartily, while the other remained expressionless. The man who had been missing for two years held a newborn baby, leaning forward to kiss his wife’s cheek, his eyes filled with unwavering love.
One event after another, one moment after another, all the best people and the best times.
They looped on the display screen, occasionally switching to another segment. Each segment was vivid and resembled a recorded video.
“After staying in this hellhole for a long time, we need something to reminisce about,” Meng Huai explained generously when she saw Zhong Chengshuo constantly looking at the screen. “Have a seat. As long as it doesn’t involve electricity and signals, we can imagine and use things—oh, right, don’t imagine food, and definitely don’t touch anything outside that resembles food.”
Huang Jin silently put down the mini shelf he was holding.
Meng Huai smiled at him, grabbed a whiteboard, and quickly wiped it clean. “I’m sure you all have a lot of questions, so ask away. Ah, it’s been a while since I had this kind of mission briefing!”
Ge Tingting was about to speak but was stopped by Zhong Chengshuo.
He may not be familiar with social etiquette, but he knew how to negotiate with “mission targets”.
Although everyone was friendly now, Zhong Chengfeng had basically believed in his identity as a member of the Zhong family. However, her gun was still not put away, Meng Huai maintained a low center of gravity, and the rear commander stayed in a safe corner. These people had been on the Other Side for a long time, so it was impossible to give them complete trust easily.
In this situation, the first question was crucial. It wouldn’t be appropriate if Ge Tingting opened her mouth to ask “How to gain power for battle” or “Do you have any other companions”.
“You said you know the situation of the other missing individuals—where are they? How are they doing now?” Zhong Chengshuo was the first to ask.
Meng Huai raised an eyebrow with a hint of approval on her face. “Honestly, I thought something was off about you, boy. But with that statement, you have a bit of the scent of Shian.”
She casually picked up the pen next to the whiteboard and lightly tapped it on the clean surface.
This moment was like throwing a stone into a lake, causing countless ripples to spread through the space. The images on the display wall paused momentarily, then a blinding white light emerged from the front wall and pressed towards everyone.
Zhong Chengshuo managed to raise his hand, but the white light dissipated before reaching him.
When he opened his eyes again, the other three members of Unit 9, Fu Tianyi and Meiqiu, were all still by his side. However, they were no longer in the Shian Office in the afternoon; instead, they were in a vast white space.
In the white space without any visible boundaries, it was filled with densely intertwined translucent white threads, creating a narrow and crowded environment resembling a white rainforest covered in vines. These threads were everywhere, winding around and forming nest-like structures with graceful arcs.
Zhong Chengshuo glanced at the nearest nest. Within each nest, several translucent white arms gently embraced a white cocoon, which, despite being thickly wrapped, still showed a human shape. Soft and gentle murmurs flowed out from the openings of the nests.
At first glance, it resembled the white world full of giant feet created by “Joy”.
An enemy attack?
No, it didn’t seem like it. There was no hostility around, nor the presence of a colossal being. Compared to the special space constructed by the Primordial Elementals, this place seemed more like…
More like a flashback.
And what happened next quickly confirmed Zhong Chengshuo’s speculation—
“There!” Meiqiu’s tail exploded.
Zhong Chengshuo immediately shifted his gaze, and behind him was a vortex hanging in the air.
Meng Huai, holding the unconscious Zhong Chengfeng, shouted desperately with a hoarse voice, struggling madly within the vortex. “What kind of damn place is this? Comrades, put in more effort! We’re about to drag innocent people into this! We’ll face punishment!!!”
Countless ghostly hands surrounded her, and those fierce ghosts were working together, apparently intending to pull her back to the human world. Unfortunately, the vortex continued to slowly and irresistibly engulf her.
Judging by her appearance, she was wearing the same red shirt, but her hair wasn’t yet disheveled. Meng Huai was covered in sweat and mud stains, and the clothes on her body were twisting and changing, gradually transforming into a police uniform.
“Ah, fuck me. Ahhhhhhhh—”
In the midst of Meng Huai’s sorrowful and angry screams, the vortex seemed like a mouth spitting out two watermelon seeds. It spat out both of them into the space with a “pff” sound. In the next instant, it simply vanished.
The white threads gave her no time to react as they swiftly entangled her from all directions. It was as if countless invisible spiders were spinning around the two of them, determined to wrap them up into two white cocoons.
Yes, two cocoons.
This meant that they needed to separate the two individuals first. The white threads patiently wrapped around their feet, pulling them in opposite directions.
As a candidate for the Minister of the Emergency Management Department, Meng Huai’s reaction speed was extremely fast. She held the unconscious Zhong Chengfeng tightly and quickly cast her spells. The moment she realized that her magic had failed, she reached for her bag of spirit weapons.
Huang Jin sighed on the side. Inanimate objects couldn’t enter the other realm, so it seemed that Ms. Meng Huai’s equipment was more of a liability than a blessing.
Sure enough, she came up empty-handed.
With two failed attempts, Meng Huai’s face twisted in frustration. At the same time, her legs were tightly wrapped by the white threads, and the shape of the entanglement was somewhat similar to the “nest cocoon” that surrounded them from all directions.
However, Meng Huai didn’t give up. She sneered and reached into her bosom.
This time, she pulled out a small ball sealed with a talisman. After tearing it open in three swift motions, a small, aged silver bell appeared, with its silver oxidized to a near-black color.
Meanwhile, the Evil Force surged violently, and the speed at which the white threads entangled them suddenly slowed down, as if they were wary of something.
Zhong Chengshuo: “…”
He recognized this item. It was the silver bell Yin Ren used to wear around his ankle.
During his time as the Great Celestial Master, Yin Ren used the silver bell to warn others, allowing the public to retreat. However, due to its fragile material, the silver bell was lost several times during Yin Ren’s fights against the Evil Spirits. Later on, he replaced it with a bone bell made from his own bones.
In theory, these items should be in the location where the Evil Spirits were sealed, inaccessible to ordinary people. But considering they were excavated by Shian, it seemed quite reasonable.
A typical corruption source of Evil Force, and the Evil Force on it belonged to “Fear”.
Meng Huai successfully brought it into the Other Side.
“Eat shit!”
Meng Huai held Zhong Chengfeng tightly with one hand and tightly clenched the bell with the other, pressing it against the white threads on their feet. Her movements were swift, and the white threads couldn’t avoid it in time, coming into close contact with the black bell.
Crack!
Like a flame igniting a fuse, the white threads immediately caught fire, desperately trying to escape. The black bell also quickly melted, emitting a burning red light, forcing Meng Huai to let go.
The black remnants fell to the snowy white ground. Like a drop of strong acid, it instantly corroded a huge hole, revealing the chaotic gray-black exterior.
On the other side, as the bell shrank smaller and smaller, the surrounding threads began to stir again.
Taking advantage of the bell not being completely corroded, Meng Huai embraced Zhong Chengfeng and, without hesitation, jumped into that chaos.
Kinky Translations 