Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

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Chapter 103: Within the Plan

Punishment.

Bai Shuangying wasn’t very familiar with the concept. Normally, he didn’t “punish” anyone. If something angered him, he’d just erase it outright.

Now, the dignified Lord Bai stood up and grabbed Fang Xiu under the arms, lifting his human off the bed. Fang Xiu was by no means short, but Bai Shuangying’s terrifying strength left his feet dangling in midair.

Fang Xiu: “…”

He had only ever seen this pose in “lift the child” games. Was this some new kind of humiliating punishment?

Combined with Bai Shuangying’s uncharacteristically serious expression, Fang Xiu started to feel a little uneasy.

Think about something else. Think about the real issue. He tried to redirect his attention.

Bai Shuangying’s seal was loosening, and Fang Xiu could guess why.

It was, overall, a side effect of his life plan. But to explain it clearly would mean revealing his ultimate goal and he wasn’t ready for that.

Bai Shuangying wasn’t someone who could be reasoned with in conventional terms. Fang Xiu had worked toward his plan for more than a decade. If he got flustered now and told everything to this seductive ghost, he might as well rename himself King Zhou of Shang*.

*He’s often used as an example for someone who let their desires and temptation overrides their reason and would lose sight of their goals. In legends, he offended the Goddess Nuwa who then sent the fox demon Daji to seduce King Zhou, eventually leading to his downfall and the Shang dynasty.

Maybe at the very end, when everything was settled, he’d tell the ghost he liked.

But for now, he just wanted to make sure that the impact of the loosening seal remained controllable, that it wouldn’t bring disaster to the mortal realm.

Good, he had sorted out his thoughts… so why was he still being held in midair?

Bai Shuangying kept holding him up, eyes scanning him from the top of his head to his toes, and then back again with the thoroughness of a wall repainting job.

During the inspection, he looked like he was in deep thought. It was very much like a kid told they can only pick one toy in the store, weighing the decision like an emperor choosing a where to dispatch his troops.

Fang Xiu didn’t know what to say. He felt like a walking menu.

After five more minutes, he couldn’t hold back. “I don’t have any hidden price list on me.”

Bai Shuangying gave a soft hum, then flipped him over and studied his back.

Fang Xiu: “……”

He lowered his head and locked eyes with the confused little black dog circling below, head tilted as if it wanted to be lifted too.

The good news: after being flipped back and forth like a pancake, Bai Shuangying finally set him down.

The bad news: Bai Shuangying sat back on the bed and placed Fang Xiu on his lap. With an arm still wrapped around his waist, Fang Xiu didn’t even have time to catch his breath before a cold hand slid under his shirt and touched his chest.

As the icy palm moved across his chest, Fang Xiu instinctively shivered twice.

“I’ve thought of a punishment,” Bai Shuangying announced. “From now, you’ll give me one incense stick’s worth of ‘getting-to-know-you time’.”

Fang Xiu blinked. “What does that mean?”

Bai Shuangying made an outrageous demand. “You answer what I ask, do what I do. If you really don’t want to answer, you can say so, but you can’t lie.”

“You’re really greedy.” Fang Xiu twitched a smile.

It was clearly an unreasonable request, like wishing for three more wishes. He could’ve easily refused it.

And yet, he was curious.

What went on inside this strange evil spirit’s mind—one sealed so thoroughly by the Underworld?

“All right, ask away.”

He lightly pressed his hand over Bai Shuangying’s, still resting against his chest.

Bai Shuangying lowered his eyes, hand sliding up toward his collarbone, fingers lightly pinching the bones beneath.

“What food do you like?” he asked in a soft voice.

Fang Xiu: “?” Was this a freebie?

“My dad’s fermented bean curd pork ribs. My grandma’s sesame sugar pastries. I don’t like fatty meat or Sichuan peppercorns.”

“What’s your favorite color?” Bai Shuangying asked again.

Fang Xiu: “…Red.”

“What kind of humans do you like?”

“Good-looking, smart, and emotionally intelligent. Two out of three is fine.”

Bai Shuangying paused for two seconds, murmuring something unintelligible in his throat.

His palm, warmed by Fang Xiu’s body heat, felt like it was melting into his skin. Fingers brushed his throat, nearly lifting the hem of his red shirt entirely.

After gently caressing his neck, that ghostly hand moved back toward his chest, fingers teasing a particular spot, tugging here and there.

Fang Xiu’s face flushed. He tried to steady his breath.

He couldn’t tell if Bai Shuangying was touching him out of curiosity, flirtation, or affectionate petting like with an animal.

Trying to leave Bai Shuangying’s lap proved futile. The ghost held him firmly in place.

…This “dare” was pushing its limits.

“What kind of touch do you like?” Bai Shuangying continued seriously.

Fang Xiu swallowed down a tiny moan. “Depends on who’s doing it… Why are you asking?”

After a beat, Bai Shuangying rephrased kindly. “How do you want me to touch you?”

When he said this, he still had his hand on Fang Xiu.

Fang Xiu: “…Whatever, as long as it’s gentle.”

Bai Shuangying’s questions suddenly turned from a crappy blind date to remarkable direction. Fang Xiu suddenly felt he should not be curious about the ideas his ghost had.

What’s worse, Bai Shuangying earnestly took note and actually softened his touch, making it harder to endure. His ghostly hand slid down to Fang Xiu’s waist.

Then, with dissatisfaction, the ghost muttered, “None of this counts?”

Fang Xiu gave him a deadpan stare. “…”

Whatever Bai Shuangying was calculating, Fang Xiu’s brain was just screaming “forget it, forget it”.

Then, as Bai Shuangying’s hand neared his mouth, Fang Xiu gave a small bite to one knuckle.

“I don’t understand why the Underworld had to seal you.” Breathless, Fang Xiu said, “With a personality like yours… negotiating would’ve worked better than suppression.”

For someone this strong but this straightforward, coaxing would always work better than brute force.

“Suppression” should be a last resort. Coming in too aggressively would only provoke backlash. Even if you succeeded, you’d create a vengeful enemy.

Bai Shuangying froze briefly, then said resentfully, “The Underworld never even talked to me!”

Fang Xiu replied gently, “If you went around destroying things first, that’s not surprising. Ever heard of Journey to the W—”

“I didn’t storm the Underworld. I didn’t destroy the human world either.” His tone grew cold, though his hand kept stroking Fang Xiu. “I was just on my own territory. It was the humans who provoked me…”

Halfway through, he caught himself. “Hey, we agreed I’d be the one asking questions.”

Fang Xiu looked innocent. “I didn’t ask you anything. We’re just chatting.”

Bai Shuangying thought for a moment. Indeed, not a single question mark had come from Fang Xiu. His brows pinched together, and his hand slowed down.

Fang Xiu chuckled, sat up, and kissed the crease between Bai Shuangying’s brows.

Just then, Bai Shuangying suddenly dropped the next question:

“If you successfully pass all eight sacrificial rituals, what do you want to wish for?”

A simple, direct question.

Fang Xiu didn’t answer right away. Instead, he gently ran his hand through Bai Shuangying’s long black hair.

“I haven’t decided yet,” he said slowly.

Bai Shuangying’s fingers trailed down Fang Xiu’s back, feeling the firm, gentle rise of his spine.

This human was meticulous and ambitious. With five rituals cleared, he hadn’t even considered his final wish… Not for himself, and not for anything from the Underworld.

But if it was just survival he wanted, Fang Xiu had gone too far. He had plenty of ways to keep a low profile and stay safe.

Yet this man even knew the truth about the loosening of the Disaster Relief Tower’s seal. Clearly, he had ties to the Underworld.

And a living human could only connect with the Underworld in two ways: becoming a wandering soul under contract… or entering the sacrificial game as a living sacrifice.

Just before the incense time ended, Bai Shuangying spoke again.

“You already knew about the sacrificial ritual while you were alive?”

“Yes.”

“You wanted to use it to gain other benefits?”

“Yes.” Fang Xiu smiled.

“But if it’s benefits you want, why not just make a wish?”

Bai Shuangying was puzzled. “If even a wish can’t solve it, then the Underworld is powerless. What could you possibly do?”

“Actually, the dare time is up.”

Fang Xiu leaned forward. His red shirt was wrinkled, exposing large patches of pale skin, flushed and beaded with sweat.

“But I like you, so I’ll give you one more answer.”

“Wishes have to be made kneeling. Negotiations can be done sitting.” He leaned closer, his black eyes glimmering. “What can’t be gained through a wish might still be gotten through negotiation. It depends how far you push the other side.”

Well then, Bai Shuangying thought.

He still didn’t understand what this human wanted. But from the first moment in the ritual to now, everything had gone exactly according to Fang Xiu’s “life plan” without a single misstep.

Even millennia ago, that scheming old Zhuang Guiqu never faced the underworld with such poise.

Bai Shuangying gently pinched the fragile body before him. Humans were so easy to break; he could crush him into dust.

Truth be told, even after playing through doomsday in the Yellow Millet ritual, he hadn’t felt satisfied. His human was far more interesting. So easily destroyed, yet able to swallow endless mysteries.

Still…

Fang Xiu wasn’t even thirty, yet he already lived like a monster. No matter how gifted he was, his heart must be close to the limit.

Just then, a chorus of cracking explosions rang out in his ears.

All the chains in the room shuddered and snapped apart. Fang Xiu’s eyes widened in rare shock as he looked up.

4,096 chains had broken.

This time, Bai Shuangying didn’t bother celebrating. His pale eyes lit up as he looked straight at Fang Xiu.

---

The author has something to say:

Xiao Bai be like: Let me take a look!

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<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

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Chapter 102: Unexpected Answer

Fang Xiu turned on the room’s stereo and pulled out a few bags of snacks. Finally, he leaned back against the headboard, taking the posture of someone gearing up to gossip with a friend.

Bai Shuangying didn’t know what “Truth or Dare” was, but the moment he heard it involved asking any question, he quietly moved back to his seat after almost slipping away.

He sat across from Fang Xiu. “…How do we play?”

The dog rolled happily between the two as Fang Xiu stroked its belly. “We take turns asking questions. You must answer truthfully. If you really don’t want to answer, then you have to obey the other person’s command and do a punishment.”

“You? Tell the truth?”

Alarm bells went off in Bai Shuangying’s head.

That word had little to do with Fang Xiu. In just a few short months, he had witnessed plenty of bloody lessons.

Fang Xiu popped a milk candy into his mouth. “I haven’t lied to you much, have I?”

“You were faking sleep just yesterday—”

“I told you before, I’m a light sleeper.” Fang Xiu sounded quite righteous. “Even if I woke up, my body was exhausted, and I had no strength to open my eyes. How is that lying?”

Bai Shuangying was speechless.

Fine. He’d just be careful. This was a great chance to learn about Fang Xiu. Consider it a little exercise in understanding human hearts. There was no real cost anyway.

“You broke the Immortal E, so you’re in the wrong. I get to ask first.” Fang Xiu watched Bai Shuangying’s face as he sucked on his candy with a grin.

“The Shrine of All E’s doesn’t look like just a storage site. The Immortal E suppress evil spirits with terrifying strength. Put them all in one place, and the power’s unimaginable.”

“And yet you broke the Immortal E while I was ‘asleep’. Clearly, the Underworld is collecting them to suppress beings like you, right?”

“Yes.” Bai Shuangying’s fingertips twitched slightly.

Strictly speaking, the shrine wasn’t used to suppress “them” but “him” alone. But answering with a simple “yes” was still the truth.

That too was a trick he’d picked up from Fang Xiu.

Fang Xiu’s tongue pushed the candy around in his mouth. His eyes wrapped around his ghost entirely.

Bai Shuangying wasn’t good at twisting the truth.

Usually he spoke the moment he opened his mouth, with a kind of effortless flow. But when he just answered Fang Xiu, he’d paused for a second.

After pretending to sleep for a bit, Fang Xiu realized: his ghost might be more powerful than he’d imagined.

Bai Shuangying wasn’t just “knowledgeable about spiritual artifacts”.

He’d previously guided the Weishan God and the dog spirit to ascension. Then he casually manipulated the karmic bonds of the living souls of Meng Xiaomeng and Zhuang Pengdao. His powers were downright strange, increasingly unlike a “harmless support”.

Add to the pause earlier…

Even if the Shrine was suppressing countless demons, Bai Shuangying must be among the heaviest hitters.

Given his constant curiosity about the place, Fang Xiu guessed that Bai Shuangying hadn’t known much about it until he saw its interior.

But how did Bai Shuangying end up being suppressed to that extent?

Honestly, Fang Xiu couldn’t imagine it.

Bai Shuangying had nothing to do with the word “madness”. Compared to those malevolent evil spirits from stories, he was more like a reckless beast—or a majestic typhoon passing through in a grand display. He gave off a kind of raw force that didn’t involve scheming.

People like that usually suffered small setbacks or made dumb mistakes. Hardly the type to mastermind huge conspiracies.

Before, Fang Xiu hadn’t paid much attention to Bai Shuangying’s origins or strength. Whether he was stone or gold didn’t affect the plan much.

But now, it seemed this ghost of his might be a nuclear bomb wrapped in a gilded shell. That changed things.

Thinking this, Fang Xiu couldn’t help rubbing Bai Shuangying’s sleeve. It was soft.

The sleeve’s owner was still staring at him with full concentration, as serious as ever.

“You can ask me now.” Fang Xiu blinked.

Bai Shuangying asked without hesitation, “When you were alive, did you study metaphysics?”

“Yeah.” Fang Xiu answered easily. “I used to take jobs from vengeful spirits. So I had to learn basic soul knowledge and magical principles.”

“But I really wasn’t a Taoist, and I never practiced magic. I never hid that.”

“I see.” Bai Shuangying looked relieved.

He knew it. Even if Fang Xiu wasn’t some shady Taoist, he was at least halfway in the game.

“My turn now.” Fang Xiu crunched his candy. “Since you were being suppressed, I get why you destroyed the Immortal E. But what do you want from me?”

Bai Shuangying’s gaze shifted slightly, as if debating whether to answer.

Fang Xiu smiled. “If I truly cared about justice, I wouldn’t have left the ritual outcome up to you.”

“If I wanted to turn you in, I could’ve told Dian’er you were the one who broke the Immortal E… Or are you worried I’ll use that to blackmail or manipulate you?”

He leaned in, one hand crossing over the little black dog to rest on Bai Shuangying’s thigh.

“The five rituals are over,” Fang Xiu said softly, his breath carrying a sweet scent from the candy. “You’ve surely seen by now—I could’ve survived just fine without you.”

Bai Shuangying’s eyes flickered with displeasure.

“With you, I reach unexpected, more perfect outcomes.”

Fang Xiu’s voice flowed smoothly. “You’re my surprise, not my tool, Bai Shuangying.”

Bai Shuangying lowered his gaze and looked at Fang Xiu’s reaching hand.

After a moment, he swept his sleeve aside, revealing countless karmic chains.

They slowly slithered along the wall, flickering in and out of sight. Their ends were tightly locked onto Bai Shuangying’s body.

Startled by the sudden burst of chains, the little black dog tumbled off the bed and barked furiously at the shimmering links.

“When I’m with you, the karmic chains break from time to time. My seal loosens.” Bai Shuangying spoke carefully. “I don’t know why yet, but it’s definitely related to you.”

Since Fang Xiu didn’t know deep metaphysics, there was no way he’d understand what even Bai Shuangying couldn’t figure out.

Just as Bai Shuangying was about to change the subject, he noticed Fang Xiu looking at him with a half-smile. He could see some surprise in Fang Xiu’s eyes—but not shock, not confusion.

Fang Xiu extended a finger and lightly passed it through the intangible chains, then slid his fingertip along one like he was playing a harp string.

“I see.” Fang Xiu traced the chain calmly.

Bai Shuangying paused. His pale eyes locked onto Fang Xiu’s.

He quickly switched to a prepared question. “You know the reason?”

Fang Xiu’s fingers suddenly stopped. He thought, wow, my ghost is pretty sharp. Definitely got that fox immortal intuition.

“Sorry, I don’t want to answer. That’s my secret.” Fang Xiu lifted his face and answered without hesitation. “I choose ‘Dare.’ …So, what’s my punishment?”

With a smile in his eyes, he leaned back against the headboard, fingers tapping the soft pillow.

Bai Shuangying realized he’d learned something useful. At the very least, he could now tell when Fang Xiu’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.

…How delightful.

…At last, he’d uncovered another layer of the “unfamiliar Fang Xiu”.

At the same time, the gates of the Shrine of All E’s gave a soft shudder.

Knock knock knock. Knock knock knock. Knock knock knock.

Knock knock knock. Knock knock knock. Knock knock knock.

The knocking was measured this time, not too loud or too soft, echoing through the empty corridor. Chains on the doors clinked gently.

Knock knock knock. Knock knock knock. Knock knock knock.

Knock knock knock. Knock knock knock. Knock knock knock.

On the other side, countless porcelain idols began to tremble as if resonating with the knocking. Jade altars rattled endlessly. Golden guardian beasts swayed over ghost contracts.

Knock knock knock. Knock knock knock. Knock knock knock.

Knock knock knock. Knock knock knock. Knock knock knock.

Suddenly, the knocking ceased. Silence fell over the entire temple and everything returned to normal. Even the chains on the locks remained exactly where they were.

Silent as a ghost. Unseen by the gods.

……

At the top of the Disaster Relief Tower

A’Shou frowned deeply, flipping through a mission report. Two people stood before her—Meng Xiaomeng, whose soul was only half intact, and Mei Lan, looking exhausted.

Dian’er hovered silently by A’Shou’s side, barely daring to breathe.

The Immortal E was smashed entirely because Fang Xiu slipped. That had nothing to do with Dian’er. But A’Shou was clearly in a bad mood. The paper figure feared saying the wrong thing and invoking her wrath.

“The main events happened inside a dream, so there’s little useful data.”

“On the surface, everything seemed normal. Even the strange knocking you reported last time didn’t occur this time.”

A’Shou smacked the report down on the table. “Yet Meng Xiaomeng lost her soul, and Zhuang Pengdao went mad. Fascinating. Truly fascinating.”

Dian’er quickly agreed. “Might’ve just been the wind. I misheard, yes, definitely misheard.”

Then it bent even lower.

A’Shou stared at the crumpled report.

The Yellow Millet E was never officially registered in the Underworld. They didn’t understand its exact capabilities. But its taboo, “What is dreamed at night is achieved by day”, was dangerously broad. Interpreted literally, it could explain nearly any supernatural phenomenon.

If she simply wanted to close the case, she could chalk everything up to the E’s powers. The thing was already gone. It couldn’t exactly rise up and defend itself.

But A’Shou wasn’t satisfied with that.

Meng Xiaomeng was the dream controller. Even if she was inexperienced, she shouldn’t have ended up in such a mess. And Zhuang Pengdao, a known Disaster Resolver, went mad for no clear reason.

Worst of all, there were no reliable witnesses.

Zhuang Pengdaos’s two disciples were dead. Jiao Jiao and Yan Yan had been unconscious. Cheng Songyun and Guan He had their heads buried in their bodies and could barely hear anything.

So she had to call in the two remaining parties.

Fang Xiu had a silver tongue. He could talk the dead into walking again. A’Shou decided to save the toughest one for last.

“The Underworld never meant to interfere with mortal affairs, but lately, the chaos from the Guishan Sect has grown too severe.”

A’Shou stood up. With her towering height and the high heels of her bridal dress, she looked like a bloodstained giant.

“Speak. What do you know?”

---

The author has something to say:

The first to take the dare was Xiao Fang~!

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<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

---

Chapter 101: A Single Thread to Sever Heaven

Dian’er clutched the shattered remains of the Yellow Millet Calamity and wept with fat, heavy tears.

In the small motel room, only Bai Shuangying was still standing. All the humans had collapsed in sleep.

Four of them lay unconscious on the floor. Mei Lan, completely exhausted, had fallen onto a corpse. Even the usually slippery Fang Xiu was fast asleep. Held in the arms of his own seductive ghost, his arms were limp and unresponsive no matter how loudly anyone called him.

Dian’er and Bai Shuangying stared at each other: “……”

“Oh dear, how did it end up smashed?”

With a long sigh, Dian’er tried to piece together the wreckage. “You all dragged that girl out of the dream, so how did it break?”

Bai Shuangying gave no response, his face set in the blank expression of someone who “doesn’t understand human speech.”

Dian’er heaved a big sigh. It wiped its tears and tottered over to Meng Xiaomeng, pressing a hand to her forehead. A few seconds later, its papery features furrowed deeply with frown lines.

“Three souls incomplete, memory fragmented?”

It checked again and again, not wanting to believe it. Its strange paper face stretched into a sour grimace. “This… Haa.”

It looked hopelessly at Bai Shuangying, who still wore the blank look of a ghost who “doesn’t know anything.”

From the mortal world to the Disaster Relief Tower, Bai Shuangying kept his expression of total confusion flawlessly intact.

Only when Fang Xiu woke did his expression finally change…

As soon as he opened his eyes, his ghost pressed a kiss to his lips. Fang Xiu instinctively stiffened, then relaxed when he felt the softness of a mattress beneath him. He gently wrapped his arms around Bai Shuangying’s neck.

The little black dog leapt onto the bed with a bark, wagging its tail wildly and yapping at Fang Xiu.

Fang Xiu didn’t know how long he’d slept. But Bai Shuangying was clearly starving, and the dog looked like it thought he’d died. It must have been a long nap.

He ran his fingers over Bai Shuangying’s cheek, black hair slipping through them. Enjoying the drawn-out good morning kiss, he clung to the bed for half an hour.

When he finally stepped outside, he was surprised.

In the courtyard, Guan He and Cheng Songyun had returned to normal and were sipping porridge. Mei Lan looked dazed. She glanced at Fang Xiu briefly, then quickly looked away.

Never mind Guan He and Cheng Songyun, even Mei Lan was still alive.

And at the incense burner in the courtyard stood “half a person”.

From the look of it, it was a young Meng Xiaomeng.

Half her head was gone, neatly sliced from the bridge of her nose like a medical anatomy model. Her body looked as if several large bites had been taken out of it, with parts of her arms and legs missing.

Thankfully, the cut surfaces were pure white without any gore that was inappropriate for public view.

Meng Xiaomeng stood beside the paper figure, scanning the area with her one remaining eye. Her face wore the vacant expression of someone lost in a dream.

Fang Xiu watched her for a while thoughtfully.

He rubbed his swollen lips and glanced sideways at Bai Shuangying. Bai Shuangying remained stoic but turned his head ever so slightly away.

“Congratulations, everyone, hooray! You survived the Immortal E and have become Disaster Resolvers.”

The paper figure’s tone sounded more half-hearted than excited. “The Yellow Millet E has been resolved, and rewards will be issued to those who eliminated it, including Fang Xiu was the one to eliminate it.”

This time, there was no mention of extra prizes.

Fang Xiu didn’t ask about the anomaly skill directly. “Where’s the Immortal E?”

“Broke, dear ancestor.” The paper figure said miserably, “That thing truly shouldn’t circulate in the human world, but it was still a treasure. You should have been more careful…”

“But it was your first time handling one, so it’s understandable,” it added quickly before it could be blamed.

Fang Xiu raised an eyebrow and glanced at Bai Shuangying again.

Bai Shuangying turned his head even further, nearly a full 180 degrees.

“Why did you bring Meng Xiaomeng here?” Fang Xiu asked calmly, changing the subject.

“With her soul in that state and all that karmic residue, to wandering spirits she looks like a cooked duck.” The paper figure sighed. “When night falls, she won’t even know what’s happening before her soul gets devoured.”

Fang Xiu sucked in a breath. “Didn’t think you’d be so kind.”

The paper figure looked deeply offended. It puffed up its chest. “Kindness? She got hold of the Immortal E. Of course we had to investigate!”

Then it deflated like a balloon. “Too bad her memory shattered along with her soul and only karma remains.”

The Immortal E was broken, and the person involved had lost her memories. With no one to vent at, Dian’er grumbled a few more lines and vaguely explained Meng Xiaomeng’s condition.

Fang Xiu stared in silence for a few seconds, then looked at the half-headed girl.

“Don’t worry. Memory loss doesn’t mean everything is gone,” he said gently.

“A thirty-year-old who loses her memory doesn’t become a three-year-old. Some things bypass memory and sink deep into your bones.”

The “Hu Die” who had spoken with him, the version that fought to survive in the dream—that persona did die in a sense. But her “perspective” wouldn’t simply vanish.

Sure enough, when she heard those words, a trace of sadness that was far too old for a young girl flickered in Meng Xiaomeng’s eyes. But the sadness was quickly drowned by deeper confusion, and her expression grew more lost.

After all its complaining, the paper figure finally remembered its real job.

Dian’er reluctantly said, “Alright, pick your anomaly skill. Even if the Immortal E is broken, the ritual is complete. You can—”

“Heaven-Breaking,” Fang Xiu said decisively.

Paper figure: “…Come again?”

“Zhuang Pengdao used it in front of me. It counts as an ‘anomaly’.”

“I can’t use spellcraft, but if you package it as an anomaly skill, I should be able to use it.”

Dian’er opened and closed its mouth, at a loss for words.

The Heaven-Breaking Technique was strongest spell a human could wield. A true celestial technique, in a completely different league from ordinary mortal spells.

The problem was that this spell was basically divine history’s dark stain.

A thousand years ago, chaos spread across the land.

The immortals wrote divine spells on heavenly silkworm silk and showed them to the gifted Taoist Zhuang Guiqu. They chose him to represent the human world and work alongside the Underworld to restore peace.

Celestial spells were naturally wondrous. Zhuang Guiqu was allowed to read the Heavenly Scroll and learn the techniques. But as a mere mortal, he couldn’t pass them down verbally. Once the scroll was reclaimed, humanity would lose access forever.

Most Taoists respected the Heavenly Order. But Zhuang Guiqu was different. Using a needle as a pen and silk as parchment, he tattooed the divine symbols onto his body. After the scroll was taken back, he founded a sect and displayed the “Heavenly Book on Flesh” to his disciples and his power grew rapidly.

To prevent disaster, the immortals had to negotiate.

Eventually, they removed the tattoos from Zhuang Guiqu’s body. In exchange, he was granted a weakened, verbally transmissible version: Heaven-Breaking Technique.

Even weakened, it was still terrifying.

If properly prepared, the Heaven-Breaking Technique could sever even divine power. To limit its use, it required multiple casters, hours of complex rituals, and a fixed location.

…And now Fang Xiu wanted the Underworld to turn it into a skill, a solo-use, portable version.

Seriously, every time it was something outrageous.

Dian’er was about to cry. How could anyone be this cunning?

But Fang Xiu’s request had no flaws. The spell had been sealed after the ritual. No Heavenly Scrolls were involved. He couldn’t become a second Zhuang Guiqu. There was no reason to refuse.

The paper figure wanted to cry but had no tears. “’A Single Thread to Sever Heaven’. Alright, you can sever any human spell within one step of yourself.”

“We do need to emphasize the limits, though. If you insist…”

“I do,” Fang Xiu cut in.

“The Yellow Millet E has been resolved… Everything else you already know, so I won’t repeat…”

A “Qian trigram” sank into Fang Xiu’s pale skin and disappeared.

He touched the spot where the symbol had disappeared with little emotion on his face. As expected, the Underworld had built in conditions to such a powerful spell.

And sure enough, it followed the usual “sacrifice infighting” model. The Underworld only cared about preventing deaths caused by fellow humans, so he could focus on breaking E’s.

…Which suited him just fine.

His fingers slid gently across his skin. Six trigrams lit up in turn, then dimmed quickly. Of them, the “Qian trigram” burned the most. He could vaguely feel the unique power of the Immortal E.

Six powers, five E’s resolved by his own hand. As ritual rewards go, not bad.

Now, there was one more matter to take care of…

Fang Xiu skipped breakfast, grabbed Bai Shuangying, who was still twisting his head away like an owl, and dragged him straight into the room.

As soon as they entered, Fang Xiu shut the door and leaned against it, giving Bai Shuangying a long, meaningful look.

Bai Shuangying put on his best “I’m innocent” face. “I cleaned up your mess. Your team’s intact. Meng Xiaomeng’s alive.”

Fang Xiu raised his brows. “Hm,” he said slowly, his tone rising at the end.

“I was just sooo careless. How could the Immortal E just break?”

“I meant to use the Immortal E to bargain something big with the Underworld, but haa, I guess I wasn’t meant to be…”

Bai Shuangying: “Mm.”

“But I distinctly remember holding onto it very tightly.”

Fang Xiu leaned against the door tightly, with just the right amount of doubt in his expression. “And I remember how light it was. The moment you first lifted my shirt—I woke up.”

Bai Shuangying: “…”

“I just kept my eyes closed afterward. Someone was fumbling with my hands…”

Sensing danger, Bai Shuangying quickly pulled a small porcelain fragment from his sleeve—a rounded, gleaming shard: the head of the porcelain child’s skull.

“I kept a souvenir.” He held the porcelain piece and offering it up with both hands.

Fang Xiu accepted it with a smile and solemnly placed it on the altar. It now served as a dish to hold the Huanxi World chips, which made it look quite proper.

“Want to play truth or dare?” Fang Xiu smiled. “Otherwise if I interrogate you like this, it feels like a courtroom.”

“I imagine you have questions for me too.”

---

The author has something to say:

How could our young lovers skip such a perfect game (?

---

<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

---

Chapter 100: The Game of Gods

Drip.

A bead of blood hit the floor and vanished.

Along with it, all the whiteness disappeared. Everything sank into darkness, and countless colors reemerged from the shadows.

Meng Xiaomeng opened her eyes and saw the ceiling lamp of the cheap motel. The air was filled with a metallic, unplaceable stench, and her headache worsened.

…Was that just now another dream? Or a hallucination?

Her stomach spasmed. She rolled over and vomited at the edge of the bed. But after days of unconsciousness, only sour bile came up. Her chapped lips cracked from the motion, adding the taste of blood and a sharp sting.

She had awoken from the dream, she realized, belatedly.

As her blurry vision refocused, she saw there was no four heads on the table—only two, belonging to unfamiliar men. Blood dripped steadily from the wounds, nearly forming continuous red lines.

Beside the heads lay a pile of strange, glowing objects.

They resembled white orbs of light, streaked with odd black mist. The mass pulsated like internal organs looking viscerally familiar.

A goth girl lay next to a heap of wigs. Two insect-like, hunched figures crouched in the corner. A man and woman struggled on the floor in a chaotic scuffle. At the center of it all stood a man in white, silently watching her.

In his arms wasn’t the gray tabby cat from before, but a slender young man in red. The man in red curled up slightly, his cheek pressed against the chest of the man in white.

Meng Xiaomeng: “…”

The scene was surreal. Was she really awake?

But the moment she saw the man in red, a wave of tension and dread swept down her back. Her strength gave out and she collapsed back onto the bed.

Just before her vision faded again, she saw them—huge butterflies fluttering around the bed. But instead of insect bodies, their wings were attached to human heads.

They perched on the corners of the bed, the nightstand, the ceiling. Vivid wings folded tight, and bloodshot eyes locked onto her.

She tried to look closer, but they vanished. Her stomach convulsed again, the nausea lingering.

Before she lost consciousness, she struggled to look once more at the man in red. That color seemed to have a strange pull.

So strange. The rest of the dream matched reality fairly closely, except that one person… why was that person a cat?

Wait.

In the dream, she had instinctively assumed the “gray tabby” was… what, again?

…Was that thing really a cat?

……

Bai Shuangying had lost interest in Meng Xiaomeng.

Her soul was severely damaged and irreparable.

Just as the scent of blood from a wound attracts predators, she would easily draw evil spirits. And now, with her metaphysical aptitude completely destroyed, if she wanted to live decently, she’d need to rely on talismans and divine rituals or join the Underworld.

…Well, that wasn’t his concern.

He’d spared her life and even left her with a clear mind.

Bai Shuangying considered himself the most reasonable evil spirit in the world. As he quietly praised his own fairness, he turned to the table of souls to finish his work.

He mashed the souls of Zhuang Pengdao’s two disciples together with one hand, compressing them into flat disks.

Meng Xiaomeng’s twisted, corrupted soul he chopped into fine filling with a spell. It still contained fragments of the “high school Meng Xiaomeng” and “white-collar Hu Die”, a richly layered flavor.

Cradling Fang Xiu with one arm, Bai Shuangying split open the soul patties and filled them with the minced mixture. Soon, two freshly made soul-filled “burgers” were ready.

Amid the drifting karmic threads, he took a bite and sighed.

After tasting Fang Xiu’s soul, everything else failed to excite him.

Eating these now was nothing more than changing flavors.

If Fang Xiu’s soul was dragon liver and phoenix marrow, then these souls could be regarded as junk food; novel at first but sickening after a few bites.

He glanced down at Fang Xiu’s slightly parted lips. Imagining the taste of his soul again, he finished the burgers with disinterest.

Full and content, Bai Shuangying yawned.

Jiao Jiao and Yan Yan, thinking Fang Xiu had destroyed the Immortal E, slept soundly. The two in the corner were safe for now. Zhuang Pengdao and Mei Lan…

…Wait, why were Zhuang Pengdao and Mei Lan still fighting?

Zhuang Pengdao’s neck was covered in yellow protective charms. His hands trembled as he held talismans. Mei Lan’s scarf shimmered with blue light, and her body was covered in wounds.

Both were at their physical limit. Since the bodies weren’t their own, they fought recklessly. Zhuang Pengdao’s spellcasting was stronger, but Mei Lan had struck first, and that scarf of hers carried an unusual aura…

“This was a weapon gifted by my father…” Zhuang Pengdao growled, glaring at her with bloodshot eyes. “If I die, neither the Underworld nor the living world will let it slide…”

“Your dad probably has hundreds of kids,” Mei Lan said hoarsely. Her face was gaunt, hair disheveled. She looked more like a ghost than a human.

“…You’re not Cen Ling. If you die, Zhuang Chongyue won’t care.”

At the name “Cen Ling”, Zhuang Pengdao’s teeth ground audibly. His face turned a mottled purple-red, his eyes full of fear and loathing.

Seeing that familiar look, Bai Shuangying twitched a finger.

Ah, right.

To him, this room was a little world of its own.

There was the human he liked. The humans he didn’t care about. And… those who stirred his hatred.

His eyes shifted.

Zhuang Pengdao and Mei Lan’s karmic threads writhed violently, entangling wildly in the air. Bai Shuangying reached out and casually plucked a few.

He wasn’t yet back to his full power, able to toy with karma freely, but…

A flick of his fingers joined two of their threads. The moment they connected, both froze like insects trapped in amber.

Even the blood dripping from Mei Lan’s chin stopped midair, suspended and gleaming in the dim light.

How long had it been since he’d felt this?

Before, he had to work hard to pick up the relevant karma when he tried glimpsing at Fang Xiu’s memories. But now, he seemed to have returned to when he was a thousand years ago, when humans were as malleable as clay.

He only needed…

Bai Shuangying extended his index finger and tapped Zhuang Pengdao on the brow.

Zhuang Pengdao gurgled. His expression shifted, from ferocity to confusion, then panic. He stared at Mei Lan.

From the bonded karma, their threads twisted into a tangled ball of yarn. Zhuang Pengdao’s eyes rolled back, leaving only white.

“I am… I’m… Mei Lan…”

He murmured, “I’m Zhuang Pengdao… I’m… Mei Lan?”

Drip.

Bai Shuangying withdrew his finger. The blood drop under Mei Lan’s chin landed on Zhuang Pengdao’s skin.

Mei Lan sensed something wrong. She gasped like a beast, her back arching in tension.

“I’m Mei Lan? I’m Zhuang Pengdao? I’m Mei Lan?” Zhuang Pengdao spoke in a chilling, Mei Lan-like tone. “I remember… I remember…”

His hands reached for the scarf around his neck. “My scarf… My scarf… Zhuang Chongyue tricked my dad for it, then gave it to me…”

“He stole my dad’s antique shop… My mom’s artifact… stole from me… stole from me…”

As he spoke, he began to cry.

“Shut up,” Mei Lan rasped, trembling.

She had no idea what was happening. But Zhuang Pengdao’s expression and gaze were terrifyingly familiar, as if she were looking at herself.

It was as horrifying as seeing your reflection in a mirror start moving on its own. A chill ran down her spine.

Rip.

Zhuang Pengdao tore at the protective charms on his neck, letting the scarf constrict.

“I realized too late…”

He spoke dully. “I envy Meng Xiaomeng…”

Rip. Rip.

His eyes were still rolled back, tears streaming down.

“She could wake from her nightmare. Mine is the nightmare…”

Rip. Rip. Rip.

“Lucky her. She got to be two people…”

He shredded the last talisman, a strangely soft smile spreading across his face.

“I don’t have to hold on anymore. I can die in peace. That’s wonderful…”

He stopped resisting. The scarf tightened suddenly. With a click, his neck broke halfway through, and blood sprayed from his carotid artery, staining half the room.

The spray of blood looked like butterfly wings.

Mei Lan trembled. She was sitting atop Zhuang Pengdao’s corpse, seemingly unaware he was dead. She instinctively covered her ears, shaking her head, murmuring, “Shut up, shut up…”

As she whispered, the scarf kept tightening. Zhuang Pengdao’s neck twisted further, yet the scarf remained clean.

Instead, Mei Lan’s hands were torn bloody. Her breathing came in ragged gasps, leaving dark smears on the filthy floor.

Bai Shuangying hugged the human in his arms, a smile finally curling his lips.

…How amusing. It reminded him of happier times.

If not for the Underworld eventually sending someone to inspect the scene, he could have made it even more interesting. But Fang Xiu was smart. He’d understand.

“Long ago, I could make hundreds of humans believe they were the same person.”

He had twisted their karmic threads into one.

They clawed at each other, screamed, searched for a nonexistent self, like frenzied bees.

“…Or made them believe they were a blade of grass. A fly. A rock.”

He’d balled up their karmic threads into a chaotic tangle.

They buried their heads in the dirt, licked rotten corpses, or gleefully flung themselves off cliffs like real stones, shattering on impact.

Back then, he didn’t even need to lift a finger. Just a passing thought.

“You want to understand me. You want to see me create an apocalypse.”

Bai Shuangying tilted his head, his face close to Fang Xiu’s ear. “Well… I’ve done it. Do you like it?”

Fang Xiu didn’t answer. He slept soundly.

Bai Shuangying looked a little disappointed. He pressed down on Fang Xiu’s lower lip but decided not to wake him.

…Fine. Since Mei Lan survived, Fang Xiu would find out sooner or later.

Now, only one task remained…

Bai Shuangying lifted the hem of Fang Xiu’s T-shirt and gazed at the small porcelain pillow. Fang Xiu’s hand gently rested on it, pressing it against his belly.

Meng Xiaomeng wasn’t a practitioner, much less the pillow’s rightful owner. In her hands, the Immortal E barely functioned. But if it fell into the Underworld’s hands…

Just its “dream at night, come true by day” ability could cause endless trouble.

Fang Xiu had retrieved it, but not for personal use. Maybe his human wanted to negotiate with the Underworld… but…

“I’ll make it up to you,” Bai Shuangying said softly.

He took Fang Xiu’s hand and, using it, gently nudged the porcelain pillow.

…Crash!

The pillow slipped from the bed and shattered against the floor. The porcelain child’s skull cracked open, its head flying across the room.

The ritual was over.

---

<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

---

Chapter 99: The Shadow of Karma

Meng Xiaomeng’s living soul trembled violently.

In a daze, she found herself sitting before an antique vanity with three mirrors arranged around it.

Directly across from the vanity stood an enormous, decaying canopy bed. At the deepest end of the bed flickered a single candle. In the center lay a child-shaped porcelain pillow, placed on crimson sheets. The air was thick with an overpowering scent of incense.

The three mirrors reflected three faces:

A vocational school version of herself, with permed hair and a defiant expression; a high school student in uniform, hair sleek and neat; and a mature-looking “Hu Die” with softly curled hair.

Their arms reached out from the brassy mirrors and clutched at her flesh, shouting unintelligible words.

Meng Xiaomeng’s head throbbed.

She remembered standing in her cramped, broken-down home, staring at crushed carnations as her mother scolded her. She remembered sitting in a well-decorated bedroom, staring at a darkened living room in silence. She remembered leaning in a company break room, looking down at traffic, her ears filled with her boss’s warnings and her teacher’s weary resignation.

…Who was she again?

Maybe the vocational girl was dreaming—dreaming of swapping out her shrill mother for a new “self” to raise herself better. Maybe the high schooler had invented a wild excuse for her mother’s neglect. Or maybe the office worker had cracked under pressure and imagined her daughter as her younger self.

…Either way, she was losing her mind.

The three mirror selves still clung to her, and Meng Xiaomeng covered her face to avoid looking at them. To her shock, she felt nothing. Her face was smooth, blank, and featureless.

She leapt to her feet, throwing off the mirrored phantoms and stumbling backward. The three figures emerged from the mirrors like snails pulled from their shells, their torsos dragging long, wet spinal cords.

Panicking, she looked around wildly. The childlike porcelain pillow on the bed began to move. It clumsily climbed down and walked step by step, speaking in the voice of a strange woman.

“Don’t be scared. These are just hallucinations from the medication.”

“You’re in a hospital now. You’re safe. Just don’t move around too much.”

The voice was sweet and gentle, brimming with reassurance.

Hospital… Hospital… 

Right, she wasn’t in her right mind… It was just the medicine…

With that thought, the canopy bed morphed into a cold white hospital bed.

The three phantoms vanished. Her facial features returned and better yet, now she had three heads and fifteen facial features total.

Everything from ceiling to floor was stark white. She wore white slippers, gazed out at white leaves beyond the window, and even the veins on her wrist were a calming white.

Only the pediatric porcelain pillow on the bed was slightly yellowed. It made her uncomfortable. She kept scrubbing it with her white hospital gown until her skin broke and white blood oozed out.

It has to be cleaned, she thought.

She had to get better. Then she’d remember who she was, and she’d be able to see her mother and daughter again.

“I don’t want to see her! I want to see Ku Yue!” her left head shouted.

“I’m not your mother. You’ll understand when you’re older,” her right head said softly.

Meng Xiaomeng ignored them and kept scrubbing the old porcelain pillow. White blood streamed from her wounds, and the flayed flesh was whiter than lard.

On the neighboring bed, patients were fighting. One was trying to strangle another with gauze, while two muscular nurses pulled madly at the strangler.

Four others lay neatly in the corner like corpses, all in the same white hospital gowns. A small white dog in a nurse’s outfit moved from patient to patient, sniffing their condition.

A broadcast played in a soothing, professional female voice. The tone was perfectly normal, but when she listened closely, she couldn’t understand a word.

Clearly, she was very far gone, Meng Xiaomeng thought. No wonder they placed her in the violent psychiatric ward.

…Creak.

The door to the ward suddenly opened and a doctor, completely dressed in white, entered. His lab coat was long, and in his arms, he cradled a skinny gray tabby cat with a vivid red collar. Its tail hung limp.

The porcelain pillow in her hands shivered as if it feared the newcomer.

No surprise. This doctor had long black hair that stood out against the pristine white room. The red on the sleeping cat was so bright it hurt her eyes.

“You scared my pillow!” she shouted from her bed. “You’re a doctor. How could you bring a pet into a hospital room!”

The little dog nurse gave her a disapproving look.

The doctor’s pale eyes shifted toward her expressionlessly, like a chef inspecting meat on a cutting board. Only then did Meng Xiaomeng notice the vivid red mole below his left eye.

It matched the red collar on the cat and made her eyes sting even more.

In that pain, something warm began leaking from her eyes. She reached up instinctively and found red threads. It was soft and slippery, like blood vessels, but straighter and longer.

They writhed like living things, slipping free no matter how she tried to grab them. They shot out in all directions, two-thirds of them merging into the porcelain pillow, like nerves embedding into flesh.

“You’re just a layman, yet you dare use the Immortal E,” the doctor said with scorn. “He offered his soul in your place, and the spell was forcibly interrupted. This chaotic karma. This is your backlash.”

Meng Xiaomeng tilted her head. “I don’t understand a word you’re saying, but it’s fine. I’m probably just insane.”

“So give me the meds or treat me already. I need to go home. If I’m late, my mom will yell, and I still need to cook dinner for my kid.”

The doctor’s face didn’t flinch. Clearly, he was unmoved by her appeals to family. He simply stroked the cat in his arms. It nestled closer and let out soft purrs.

A few red threads floated near. The doctor caught them with ease.

“At first, I thought he left this mess for me to see if I had ‘humanity’,” he muttered. “But later I realized, my human wouldn’t be so tacky. However I handle you, he won’t care.”

Meng Xiaomeng: “…”

No wonder this was the psych ward. Even the doctors were delusional. Or maybe she was too far gone to understand anything anymore?

“He’s just curious what I’ll do. Just as I’m curious about him.” The doctor raised his eyes and announced with satisfaction, “That makes sense. After all, he said he likes me.”

“Balance must be served. So let heaven decide… I’ll only eat half your soul.”

He glanced at the cat, as if checking for permission. The feline stayed fast asleep, curled up like nothing in the world could bother it.

Meng Xiaomeng: “???”

That couldn’t be good. She clutched the pillow tightly and climbed onto the bed to claim the high ground.

“Keep me!” shouted the right head. “I remember everything. I want to live! When I get out, I want to talk to Mom—keep me!”

“You’re just a figment of my imagination.” The left head giggled. “The police station wasn’t real, and this place isn’t either. I must have swallowed pills. All a hallucination.”

Meng Xiaomeng’s mind spun. Was the doctor the one speaking sensibly… or was her brain just too far gone to tell?

Ignoring the shouting, the doctor walked to the next bed. One arm still cradling the cat, he twisted off the heads of the two muscular nurses like eggs.

The female patient who’d been strangling someone renewed her grip with greater force.

The doctor cracked open the two skulls, extracting pale white souls like a chef preparing ingredients. He set them gently on a tray.

Then he tugged on all the red threads in the room. Meng Xiaomeng felt a soreness like her nerves were being yanked out through her teeth.

“Stop!” her right head cried. “I only fought the Disaster Resolvers to survive! I used to believe in you—you know that! If there’s a peaceful solution, I’m willing to negotiate…”

On the next bed, the woman strangled harder. The man underneath her stabbed her arm repeatedly with something sharp.

“I used to believe in you,” the right head whispered again, seemingly oblivious to the pain. “Take whatever price you want. Even my soul.”

The right head tried to sound calm, but its fear was obvious. “Just don’t erase my memories. I’m more useful alive. I understand better…”

“You haven’t changed,” the doctor said flatly. “You chase others’ affection and fall apart when things go wrong. There’s no growth at all.”

“You don’t even know how to love yourself. What do you know about ‘understanding’?”

The right head fell silent.

“I’m not here for justice. I don’t care who’s more useful. I only know, your part tastes best.”

Instinctively, Meng Xiaomeng looked toward the right head. Red threads poured from its eyes, nearly popping them out.

The mature face was filled with terror and sorrow. “I don’t want to die…”

“You won’t,” the doctor said.

A moment later, the threads surged.

Meng Xiaomeng’s right shoulder went cold. Something warm and vital was pulled from her. In that instant, her heart felt hollow.

“This hallucination’s wild,” the left head said cheerfully. “I’ve gone off the deep end. Let’s see what Mom does with this. Bet she loses face…”

Rip.

There was a loud tearing sound. The left head flew off too. It had barely any threads holding it on, and in its final moment, she could see its startled expression.

A chill crept into Meng Xiaomeng. The hollowness inside her was sharp and aching, like missing teeth or a severed wrist.

The doctor held the two heads by their red threads and placed them on the tray. They muttered faintly, but he wasn’t listening.

He turned to her.

“I have remove the fragment of the soul you cut off to serve as ‘mother’, and the soul that was distorted by the dream.”

The doctor touched the cat’s paw and spoke in a tone like a surgeon pleased with a successful tumor removal.

“Now you have two souls left. The E lingers around you and your heart and soul has been damaged. You will never dream again for the rest of your life, and your karmic blood-debt will not disappear… But since I’m the one who intervened, you won’t go crazy.”

She still didn’t understand. Her chest felt hollow, like something crucial was missing. The white ward began to flicker and collapse and her heard started pounding.

She curled her shoulders, fingers twisting. Suddenly, she felt pain.

Ah, right. Before entering the hotel, she’d had her nails done… She’d wanted to greet the new students in her best state… Hotel… new students…

Meng Xiaomeng stared blankly at her beautiful fingernails.

She’d spent so much money on them. Her mom would scold her again. But for some reason, this time, she didn’t mind.

The red threads had vanished without her noticing. This time, tears flowed from her eyes. She wasn’t even sad, but they wouldn’t stop.

She no longer cared about the fight on the next bed or the crumbling hospital. She only felt cold—bone-deep cold.

The man in white frowned as he watched her, then reluctantly added, “Your memories are gone, but the karmic effects remain. Don’t panic.”

“Mom…”

Meng Xiaomeng rubbed at the cut on her finger. A bright red bead of blood slowly oozed out.

---

The author has something to say:

Master Bai performed the operation, and the disease was miraculously cured (?

---

<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

---

Chapter 98: Your Idea

Officer Xiao Zhou sat upright in his office when the entire building suddenly began to tremble. The walls shook like rubber, plaster crumbling and falling in sheets. He stood up in a daze, suddenly remembering there were still people in the reception room.

No, he had to evacuate the civilians.

He stumbled down the shaking floor toward the reception room, his steps lurching like a drunk.

The lights went out. The sky darkened at an unnatural speed. The dim corridor was deserted, and at the reception room doorway stood a goth-dressed woman in an eerie posture.

Her face was caked with heavy makeup. Her back was hunched at an impossibly grotesque angle, shaking her head vigorously at him.

At the same time, the reception room door swung wide open. From the warped doorway spilled countless strands of blood-red hair. That hairy mass kept twitching, producing strange purring noises.

Inside the room, a girl sobbed and a woman screamed, both voices soaked in despair.

Officer Xiao Zhou slowed to a stop. Is this… a dream?

No. No way this is real, right?

In a haze, he shook his head violently. The corridor beneath him cracked with a loud crash. His footing gave way completely, and it felt like he was plunging into a cliffside void.

A second later, his legs kicked against the bedsheet, and he snapped awake, drenched in cold sweat.

The familiar ceiling of his bedroom loomed dimly in the pre-dawn dark. It wasn’t even 5 a.m. yet.

…Just a nightmare. It’s completely chaotic.

…And now, all he could remember were a few fragmented, bizarre images. Within half a minute, even those fragments faded away. All that lingered was the impression that the nightmare had lasted a very long time.

He exhaled and suddenly realized his head felt like it was being twisted. His nerves were taut as if he’d stayed up for several nights straight. Groaning, he slipped out of bed, popped an ibuprofen, and changed the sweat-soaked sheets.

He might be coming down with something. Sighing, he drank some hot water and crawled back under the covers.

…But Meng Xiaomeng had no such luxury of going back to sleep.

As the dream ended, Fang Xiu found himself in a hotel room.

It was a single-occupancy room, cramped and cheaply decorated. Survivors were piled across the carpet in crooked, contorted positions from the dream, especially Yan Yan, who lay flat on the floor in his original form, resembling a serial killer’s custom-made scalp rug. Cheng Songyun and Guan He had nearly fully transformed into human cocoons, silently curled in the corners.

Meng Xiaomeng lay unconscious in the center of the single bed. Her body was emaciated with nothing but skin and bones, clearly severely drained.

The little black dog bounced onto the bed, sniffing around Meng Xiaomeng’s face. Its nose pushed aside her grass-like hair, revealing a sliver of a porcelain pillow beneath.

The pillow was crafted to resemble a child, its head half-exposed from the long hair and fixed in a grin so bright it was unsettling. Though inanimate, it radiated a pressure that was hard to describe.

Before the others could react, Fang Xiu, who already knew the “Immortal E’s” true form, strode forward and seized the porcelain pillow.

It had been warmed by the girl’s body, and in his hands, it felt almost alive. He could nearly sense the power pulsing within.

It all happened within seconds.

Zhuang Pengdao stood up fluidly and reached toward Fang Xiu, magic charging in his palm.

Mei Lan, standing close by, twisted her body and slammed into Zhuang Pengdao’s arm. The spell veered wildly. Taking advantage of the moment, she ripped off her scarf and looped it around his neck.

Before Jiao Jiao could even get to her feet, she smashed a bottle of magic potion on the spot, concealing herself and Yan Yan in smoke. Fang Xiu, meanwhile, gripped the porcelain pillow tightly and smashed it against the corner of the table.

Zhuang Pengdao ignored the scarf tightening on his neck and struggled to shout, “Sto—”

Crash.

The porcelain child’s head cracked open. Shards clattered to the ground.

That was an Immortal E, a god-tier artifact!

As Disaster Resolvers for the Underworld, their primary mission was to recover it, not destroy it. Even if it wasn’t returned, selling it on the black market could easily fetch an eight- or nine-digit sum.

Zhuang Pengdao had assumed Fang Xiu shared his goal of obtaining the artifact and had even prepared to negotiate. Who would’ve thought the man would do something so reckless, sabotaging everyone’s interests?

Furious, Zhuang Pengdao couldn’t even swear. Mei Lan’s scarf was wound so tightly he couldn’t spare a hand.

His two disciples staggered up and charged Mei Lan. Her body ignited in flames, yet she seemed immune to the pain. She simply sneered and doused the fire with her personal canteen of spiritual dew.

The disciples quickly changed tactics, switching to punches and kicks.

Mei Lan’s body was charred and blackened. Her eyes were bloodshot, yet her gaze stayed fixed on Zhuang Pengdao, who was still wrestling with the scarf choking him. His flushed face proved that scarf was no ordinary fabric.

What a mess, Bai Shuangying thought with waning interest.

By now, he understood Fang Xiu’s strategy.

Fang Xiu knew Zhuang Pengdao intended to trap Hu Die. So he lured Hu Die to the police station, seizing the initiative from Zhuang Pengdao.

Then he summoned Meng Xiaomeng to the station as well, disrupting Hu Die’s performance and drawing in the still-rational Jiao Jiao and Yan Yan as muscle. The mutated Cheng Songyun and Guan He were far from the chaos and completely safe.

At last, his human self deliberately stalled with idle talk and subtly provoked Zhuang Pengdao.

Zhuang Pengdao saw that Fang Xiu, a “normal human”, had withstood the loop-induced mutation. Uncertain of Fang Xiu’s strength, he made the logical choice and hurriedly re-cast his Heaven-Breaking spell nearby to sabotage Fang Xiu’s unknown plan.

In the end, Zhuang Pengdao and the Jiao-Yan duo had all been used as tools by Fang Xiu to drive Hu Die—no, Meng Xiaomeng—into a corner. And the entire time, Fang Xiu had never explained any of his “plan” to anyone. He just smiled and fed them a few lies.

Compared to his human, the people now grappling on the floor were utterly uninteresting. He disliked this kind of ending. What he wanted was…

Suddenly, Fang Xiu grabbed his hand. His palm was even warmer than before. Bloodshot eyes stared at him, their light flickering like a candle in a storm.

Fang Xiu mouthed something to Bai Shuangying, then collapsed into his arms like a sandcastle caving in.

He was asleep.

Bai Shuangying: “???”

Well, timing-wise, it made sense. Fang Xiu’s brain had been working non-stop. Any more and his body might have just dropped dead.

Bai Shuangying dragged him into hiding and casually picked him up.

Fang Xiu’s head pressed firmly against his chest, his sleep deeper than death. Just like that, he had left behind a chaotic conclusion, like an unfinished story.

When the paper figure arrived, Meng Xiaomeng would lose her mind. Zhuang Pengdao and Mei Lan’s fates would be left to fate. Jiao Jiao, Yan Yan, Cheng Songyun, and Guan He would probably be fine… Wait.

When Fang Xiu smashed the Immortal E, Bai Shuangying had felt the pulse of a strange spell. And Fang Xiu had an odd aura about him. Something didn’t add up.

Bai Shuangying jostled the human in his arms. Fang Xiu’s arm slipped from his belly, revealing an unusual bulge around the waist. Bai Shuangying slipped a hand under his shirt and felt the warm porcelain of the artifact.

Bai Shuangying: “…”

Even before fainting, this guy still managed to pull a fast one on everyone.

A Disaster Resolver could contact the paper men at will. But since everyone thought Fang Xiu had “destroyed” the artifact, they assumed the paper figures would come on their own. No one had called them directly.

Which meant, ultimately, the ending to this mess was now in his hands, right?

Bai Shuangying tucked the porcelain pillow back into Fang Xiu’s curled-up belly and carefully covered it with the red T-shirt. Fang Xiu made a soft “mm” and burrowed deeper into Bai Shuangying’s chest.

“You really passed out or are you manipulating me too?”

Bai Shuangying lowered his gaze. “Leaving the ending to me… Aren’t you afraid I’ll just walk away, or start slaughtering indiscriminately?”

Fang Xiu didn’t answer. He was completely out, his long, steady breaths brushing against Bai Shuangying’s chest like a tickle.

Bai Shuangying had nothing more to say.

Sure, he could just walk away. But… well, Cheng Songyun and Guan He were still useful to Fang Xiu, so they were worth saving.

Yan Yan and Jiao Jiao had proven effective muscle. Fang Xiu might need them again, so they were worth saving.

Mei Lan might be a defector from the Guishan Sect. Bai Shuangying didn’t care about her backstory, but her survival would benefit Fang Xiu, so she was worth saving.

…Wait. Why was he always thinking in terms of his human? That was a bad habit.

Better to look at it this way: Fang Xiu’s survival benefitted him. And Zhuang Pengdao had dared cast the Heaven-Breaking Technique in front of him. That was unforgivable.

Bai Shuangying tapped his fingers one by one as if he was counting vegetables and not tallying lives. But as he reached the end, he realized he’d missed someone.

Meng Xiaomeng.

A foolish young human who, in a moment of impulse, had created a huge mess. Now still unconscious, her mind would unravel the moment it began working again. The contradictions in her memory would drive her mad.

And whether she lived or died had nothing to do with Fang Xiu—no, with either of them.

Should he help? Or not?

Bai Shuangying strained to think. In the past, he’d have let her be. But now, he suspected Fang Xiu had chosen to knock her out instead of killing her for a reason.

He thought for a few seconds, holding the sleeping Fang Xiu aloft, and watched the chaos below. After a moment, a faint smile touched his lips.

Fang Xiu had manipulated everyone’s hearts beautifully, escaped danger, and then handed the ending off to him. If he wrapped up this story clumsily, wouldn’t that be embarrassing?

Just a few minutes—let him have a bit of fun.

Bai Shuangying’s hair lifted slightly. His unblinking eyes scanned the crowd. Invisible strands of karma floated from everyone, their shadows flickering in his blank pupils.

Those threads shifted like drifting water plants, sometimes sharp, sometimes blurry. The world slowed to a crawl. Everything seemed frozen, except the little black dog, still hopping at Bai Shuangying’s feet, trying to paw at his toes.

His gaze moved, settling on the most tangled, chaotic cluster of karma. Meng Xiaomeng was unconscious on the bed, utterly unaware of the disaster looming over her.

“…Let’s start with you.”

---

<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

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Chapter 97: Chess Pieces

Meng Xiaomeng walked into the police station with a paper bag of fast food. Her eyes were still red.

She had just had a falling-out with a close friend today, and even bombed her best subject, math. Her emotions were still spiraling, and now her mom had the nerve to send her to the police station to deliver food.

Usually, it was her mom who picked her up; this time the roles were reversed.

Since her mom could still call, it couldn’t be anything too serious. While ranting to Ku Yue about having to deliver food “in the middle of the night”, she stepped grumpily into the reception room.

Meng Xiaomeng tossed the paper bag onto the table and picked the most isolated chair to sit in, radiating pure “I’m in a bad mood” energy. But Fang Xiu’s striking appearance caught her attention, and she couldn’t help sneaking a few glances, wondering why her mother was meeting with a man in red.

…A secret love child? No, he looked too old, and frankly, better-looking than her mom.

…Could he be her long-lost dad? Also unlikely. He didn’t seem quite that old.

She fired off guesses to Ku Yue as her fingers flew across the screen. Before she could send her next emoji, Hu Die walked over and yanked the phone out of her hands.

Meng Xiaomeng glared at her mother in annoyance.

“Sit.” Hu Die pointed to the seat beside her.

Meng Xiaomeng opened her mouth but ultimately said nothing. She sat beside her mother in silence, not wanting to throw a tantrum in front of Fang Xiu.

“I don’t think I’ve had a proper conversation with you in a long time.”

Hu Die stared at the tea leaves swirling in her cup. “Rough day? Your eyes are all red.”

“It’s nothing,” Meng Xiaomeng replied stiffly.

Hu Die was quiet for a moment, then sighed. “I want to talk.”

“Yeah sure, let’s have a heart-to-heart in front of a total stranger. Super comfortable,” Meng Xiaomeng said with biting sarcasm. “Is it illegal to talk at home?”

Hu Die ignored the sharpness, as she often did. “I want to talk about my own mother.”

A strange setting, strange company, and now a strange topic. Meng Xiaomeng dropped the sarcasm and visibly tensed. She had never been curious about Hu Die’s childhood, and Hu Die had never offered anything.

Something must have happened with her grandmother. Meng Xiaomeng sat up a little straighter.

Hu Die repeated what she’d told Fang Xiu, calmly and evenly. She left out all mention of the Yellow Millet E and added a few personal reflections.

“She wasn’t a perfect mother. Honestly, it’s hard to even call her a ‘good’ one.” Hu Die continued, “But I think she did love me.”

Looking back now, in that cramped old apartment, her mother had still prepared a room just for her.

The clothes might not have been stylish, but they were always new and comfortable. The meals were plain, but there was never a lack of meat, eggs, or milk. Her books and stationery were just as good as anyone else’s, and school fees were always paid on time.

The money from her father couldn’t even come close to covering their expenses.

So her mother took on hard labor jobs outside, scavenged cardboard on the side, and still did all the housework…just to make sure she could study in peace.

But at the same time, her mother had a foul mouth and a nasty temper. She had zero talent for emotional support and failed every metric when it came to nurturing a child’s mental health.

As a kid, she’d grown too used to the sacrifices, without having the capacity to understand the rest.

That wasn’t the child’s fault, but…

“Now I think, being a ‘parent’ is a lot like being a ‘student’.” Hu Die spoke slowly. “Some students are top of the class achieving good grades and have excellent behavior. Others are better at some subjects than others. Some don’t want to study at all, and some work hard but still can’t get it right.”

“It’s the same with character. For every awkward bookworm, there’s a social butterfly. For every kindhearted one, there’s someone who’s inexplicably cruel. And the worst part? Grades and personality don’t always match up.”

Meng Xiaomeng frowned. “So what’s your point?”

Hu Die gazed into space. “The tension between me and my mom… we both believed the other should be a ‘perfect student’, thought that with a little effort, everything could be fixed.”

“There are always kids who are model students, and others who are just mean for no reason. But most people? They’re just ordinary.”

Meng Xiaomeng stiffened. “Got it. You’re just making excuses for yourself.”

“I didn’t want you to grow up in shabby clothes, packed into a dingy house like I did. So I found a better-paying job, bought a better home, and took on a mortgage.”

Hu Die’s voice remained even.

“You’re saying I’m a burden. I never asked to be born,” Meng Xiaomeng muttered.

Hu Die looked at her in silence.

She knew the girl wouldn’t understand. To give her daughter a better life, she couldn’t risk being unemployed. She worked herself to the bone and didn’t dare complain.

She drained herself during the day, then came home to cook and help with homework. There were no holidays, no breaks. She had to manage her emotions around the clock.

In all those years trying to raise Meng Xiaomeng right, she hadn’t even had time to see a movie alone, let alone take a trip.

But if she said any of this aloud, it would just sound like whining to a child.

Love isn’t a default label that should be taken for granted. It takes real, constant effort.

…She had simply figured this out too late.

“I’ve just accepted reality. My mom and I—we’re both just ordinary people,” Hu Die said. “Whether I was a child or an adult. Whether it’s you.”

“Mom, can you just say what you mean? You’re seriously creeping me out.”

Meng Xiaomeng had tuned out most of the “nagging”. She looked at Hu Die with half-understanding eyes, just trying to find her own answers.

Bai Shuangying also looked at Fang Xiu with a similar half-understanding expression.

It was Fang Xiu who had suggested bringing Meng Xiaomeng here, so Hu Die could say what she needed to before the dream ended.

It had seemed like a very human idea and Hu Die had readily agreed.

But Meng Xiaomeng was still sixteen. A few heartfelt words couldn’t change her entire perspective. And Hu Die, after watching Meng Xiaomeng die horribly so many times, was unlikely to suddenly fall in love with “herself”.

To Bai Shuangying, this conversation felt more like a display. A performance, meant for Fang Xiu.

“Now you see.”

As expected, Hu Die turned to Fang Xiu in the next moment. “This is the core issue. We’ve become completely different people.”

“If we don’t deal with the overlapping memories, once the dream ends, Meng Xiaomeng will just turn into a split-personality lunatic. I don’t know how you plan to ‘save me’, but you’d better explain—”

“Mom, what are you talking about?!”

Fang Xiu glanced at the clock on the wall. He didn’t answer right away.

But Bai Shuangying suddenly sensed something wrong. He turned toward the darkened window, brow furrowing in alarm.

He could feel the presence of a spell, one he hated the most.

Someone was casting a Heaven-Breaking spell around the police station.

Bai Shuangying scooped up the little black dog with one hand and grabbed Fang Xiu with the other, pulling them both back to a safe zone. The next moment, all remaining lights outside went out. Conversations in the hallway fell dead. A dreadful silence took over.

Meng Xiaomeng gasped in fright. Hu Die stood up abruptly and glared at Fang Xiu. “You set me up!”

She seemed convinced Fang Xiu was in on it. One person to stall her, the other to cast the spell.

Fang Xiu only smiled and said nothing.

Hu Die clenched her jaw. She could feel the dream spiraling out of control.

The reception room’s windows began to melt like butter. The furniture warped into bizarre shapes like abstract art. Meng Xiaomeng shrieked and clung to her mother’s waist in panic.

Hu Die’s connection to the dream was rapidly weakening. Even if she killed herself now, it would be hard to restart the loop.

And to think she had actually believed Fang Xiu was reasonable. His so-called negotiation, his rescue mission, it was all fake. He’d only lowered her guard, even dragging Meng Xiaomeng here as a distraction.

What a vicious plan.

Hu Die tried to push away her crying daughter but didn’t dare hurt her. She was afraid that if Meng Xiaomeng was gravely wounded, the dream would end prematurely. Eyes bloodshot, she glared at Fang Xiu, magic gathering in her hand once more.

“I just wanted to live.”

Her voice tore through the silence. “I only wanted to live well here! I didn’t invite you into this dream! Who do you think you are, judging me? You—”

“Jiao Jiao, Yan Yan. Knock her out!”

Fang Xiu ignored her completely and raised his voice. The two spirit shrimp flinched from the shock, but reacted surprisingly fast.

Jiao Jiao lit a bundle of herbs with trembling hands and smeared something on Yan Yan. In an instant, Yan Yan reverted to his true form, growing to the size of a tiger.

He barreled through the doorway like a sledgehammer, aiming straight for Hu Die. She scrambled to dodge, terrified Meng Xiaomeng would be killed in the chaos.

“Shameless!”

Hu Die cursed as Meng Xiaomeng screamed.

Fang Xiu casually brushed Bai Shuangying’s sleeve. Wearing a ring, he pointed toward Yan Yan. The red fox vanished into thin air without a trace.

Then he patted the black dog. It too disappeared from sight.

“Go play with her.”

The little dog wagged its tail and bounded off after Hu Die, who was trying to flee.

She tripped within two steps. Yan Yan struck, cracking the defensive barrier around her and leaving visible fractures.

The world was dimming as though someone were slowly turning down the lights. Invisible creatures twisted through the dark. Hu Die had to defend herself. She had no energy left to fight whoever cast the spell.

“What is this?!” Meng Xiaomeng whimpered. “Mom… Mom…”

But Hu Die couldn’t answer.

As she dodged and ducked, she held Meng Xiaomeng tightly in her arms, glaring at Fang Xiu like he was the source of all evil.

Just as the darkness was about to swallow everything, Fang Xiu gave a slight bow and slowly faded from view. His red clothes dimmed and disappeared, like a pool of blood evaporating.

In that moment of stunned silence, Hu Die felt a sickening sensation against the back of her head, like hair brushing her neck, and then the blunt force of something heavy, like a bat.

As Meng Xiaomeng’s cries filled the air, Hu Die’s consciousness began to fade.

Why?

Fang Xiu hadn’t used any communication spell…

He had never coordinated with another team…

How had they managed this, and when had they even planned it?

She didn’t understand.

She didn’t want to die.

“…Mom…” she whispered, instinctively.

---

Kinky Thoughts:

Damn, I didn’t expect this chapter, or rather this arc, to be so insightful and relatable. Teenager me definitely held resentment for my parents, despite their sacrifices, and adult me now understands the full scope of it. Though to be fair, they did lack the emotional and mental support for teenager me, but, no one can be perfect. They did their best.

As they say, there are just some things you can’t understand without the wisdom that comes with age.

---

<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

---

Chapter 96: Negotiation Specialist

Hu Die sat upright at the table. With the cool-toned lighting, the room even carried a hint of an interrogation atmosphere.

Fang Xiu sat across from her with a smile, fingertips pressed together. He didn’t look at all like someone who hadn’t slept for three or four days.

“How did you know?”

Hu Die didn’t respond to Fang Xiu’s proposal. Instead, she countered with a question.

“You made it too obvious,” Fang Xiu said. “I couldn’t see any real affection from you toward Meng Xiaomeng. During the cycles, you just went about your normal life. Even when Meng Xiaomeng died in pain, you could still go for a walk in the park with a straight face.”

“There are plenty of awful parents in the world.” Hu Die adjusted her posture.

“If you truly didn’t care about Meng Xiaomeng, then give up on the dream. You’re not the one dying horribly.”

Fang Xiu smiled. “But you can’t do it. Even if it means enduring the pain of suicide, you still want Meng Xiaomeng to live. You don’t love her, yet she’s incredibly important to you. Do I need to explain further?”

Hu Die stayed silent.

Her gaze drifted to the snowy night outside the window. After a long pause, she finally said, “How did you know my age? Both of us are just dream projections.”

“Just a guess,” Fang Xiu said. “This Immortal E is quite powerful. Adults have broader and deeper wishes. Only kids who aren’t ready to move on would make a wish like this.”

A trace of melancholy flashed across Hu Die’s face.

Fang Xiu continued, “If your family was utterly terrible, your focus would be on escaping and seeking your own future. If you had no parents, you’d be fixated on being loved. Even stuck in a deadlock, you probably wouldn’t do something like ‘leave the kid to fend for herself’.”

“So I figured, you probably came from a fairly normal home. Imperfect parents, so most likely your mother. You didn’t agree with how she did things, and you wanted to prove you could do better.”

“But in the end, you didn’t do any better. That’s why you treat yourself so… half-heartedly, like it’s a kind of self-mockery. Or maybe punishment.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re kind of creepy?” Hu Die gave a bitter chuckle. “You should play a psychic in a drama. You’d make a fortune.”

Out of her sight, Bai Shuangying nodded silently in agreement.

Before understanding Fang Xiu, he thought he simply didn’t know the guy well. After understanding him, he began to feel like he didn’t understand humans at all.

Fang Xiu laughed it off. “I work in a hospital. You get a front-row seat to the best and worst of humanity.”

Hu Die raised her eyebrows, clearly skeptical.

Still, she didn’t press the topic. “That’s a decent analysis, but I don’t have to negotiate with you.”

Fang Xiu blinked, feigning confusion.

“Because I’ve already ‘moved on’.” Hu Die pulled her lips into a slight smile. “Just to be clear, next time you put on a show like this, I won’t come again…”

This was a simple story.

Meng Xiaomeng’s mother, the real Hu Die, also raised her daughter alone.

In real life, Hu Die looked nothing like Meng Xiaomeng. She didn’t look young, had no lovely curls, no burgundy sweater with a subtle fragrance; just cheap, drab clothing.

She and Meng Xiaomeng’s father had divorced early. She raised her daughter alone in a dilapidated apartment building. The place was in terrible condition, neighbors left trash by the door, and the air always had a sour stench.

Meng Xiaomeng didn’t like her home.

Her family wasn’t whole.

The father never showed up, and even the few hundred yuan in child support came irregularly. Her mom had once been just a working-class woman, more worn-down than other moms and spoke with an unpleasant accent.

Her family wasn’t well-off.

They lived in that old apartment forever. Her mother liked to collect cardboard to save money, filling their cramped space even more. When buying clothes, she only cared about fabric and price, dressing her daughter like a joke.

And her mom rarely spent time with her.

She was always busy, juggling two jobs. Even if Meng Xiaomeng got hurt, her mother would only glance over and lecture her to be more careful next time.

Forget about pop culture or school drama, Meng Xiaomeng couldn’t communicate with her mom at all. Her mother didn’t even understand basic math. If Meng Xiaomeng got a bad grade, all she got was a stream of crude insults.

The rift between mother and daughter started with a small event.

One Mother’s Day in middle school, Meng Xiaomeng followed her classmates’ lead and spent twenty yuan on a bouquet of carnations. She even borrowed ten yuan from her deskmate.

She thought she was being very mature and understanding. Even if her mom was rough, she could be moved. She would soften, just like her classmate’s mother.

She brought the bright flowers home and found her mom returning after losing a fight over scrap cardboard with a downstairs neighbor.

Disheveled, Hu Die was serving turnip stew, peeling two boiled eggs for her daughter while cursing the neighbor nonstop.

Meng Xiaomeng snuck up behind her, hiding the bouquet, then suddenly pulled it out.

“Mom, happy Mother’s Day!” she said with a smile.

Seeing the flowers, Hu Die’s eyes first showed confusion, then surprise, and finally, instead of being moved, she became panicked and angry.

“How much did this cost? Where did you get the money?” she barked, pointing at the bouquet.

It was like a punch to the gut. Meng Xiaomeng stood frozen for several seconds, then braced herself: “Twenty. I used my breakfast money! Why are you even asking that?”

“Where’d you get so much breakfast money?” Hu Die pressed.

“I borrowed ten from my deskmate!” Meng Xiaomeng yelled, her eyes stinging. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go… wasn’t Mom supposed to be touched?

Her classmate’s mom had kissed her several times and their family had dinner together, full of joy. Why did she have to get scolded?

“Always buying useless crap!”

Hu Die dug out ten yuan in change and slammed it on the table. “Return it to them tomorrow, got it? What’s a kid doing borrowing money for? And your grades are awful… You’re copying bad habits already…”

“Can we return this bouquet? After dinner we’ll go return it. This thing won’t last a few days. Twenty yuan? You could buy two kilos of pork, damn it…”

Meng Xiaomeng’s tears fell all at once.

Why couldn’t her mother be a little gentler, just a little? Why not be touched, even a bit, before scolding her? Her mother felt like some other creature, a monster that couldn’t feel love.

Everything was always like this. Her mom never acknowledged her.

Meng Xiaomeng threw the flowers on the ground and stomped on them. The lovely bouquet instantly turned to trash. Then she rushed into her room and slammed the door shut.

Her mother banged on the door, yelling for her to come out and eat. Meng Xiaomeng buried her head under the blanket, crying uncontrollably.

From that day on, she took back her love.

She started acting out at school, hanging with bullies, skipping class to surf the internet. Since her mom didn’t care, why not find comfort elsewhere?

In the end, she scored poorly and was sent to a vocational high school.

She believed her life was ruined and that she would grow up to be just another “working girl”. All of it, she believed, was her mother’s fault, her background’s fault.

“…And then I found that porcelain pillow.”

Meng Xiaomeng—no, “Hu Die”—continued, “Actually, my dad’s family is pretty rich. I asked him for money but he wouldn’t give me a cent… I thought that little porcelain pillow was some artifact, so I stole it from his collection.”

“Then I found a note inside, with instructions for using a ‘Yellow Millet Pillow’. I think he inherited it from my grandfather and never looked closely.”

Fang Xiu stared at her silently.

Now Hu Die looked calm and composed with no trace of her former impulsive persona. When she spoke of her mother, there was no anger, only a faint nostalgia.

“Anyway, I learned some metaphysics while drifting through society and used it,” Hu Die said with a wry smile. “Turns out I’ve got some talent for the supernatural. No idea who I got it from.”

A mysterious relic, promising your dreams would come true. What kid could resist that?

She threw herself into learning metaphysics, no matter the cost. Young and reckless, she did something any proper practitioner would call extremely risky…

Meng Xiaomeng used the dream to split her own memories.

Her living soul retained only memories up to around age one. All memories from age two to sixteen were shaped by the dream into a new “Hu Die”, a figure formed from memory, with only a sliver of soul remaining, not quite human.

In her design, she knew her own pain best, so she would surely understand. She would love herself unconditionally, raise herself with great care. So she willingly cut away her memories, her control over the dream, and everything from the real world.

She would dream, and in that dream, grow into someone bright and resilient.

Meng Xiaomeng fell asleep full of hope… and entered an endless dream.

“…I’m a memory meant to be abandoned. After all these cycles, my soul now barely counts as a mimicry of a Disaster Resolver’s soul.” Hu Die said calmly, “You can only save Meng Xiaomeng, not me.”

Clap. Clap. Clap.

Fang Xiu’s smile didn’t waver as he slowly applauded.

“Thank you for telling me the full story,” he said. “The details were richer than I expected.”

Hu Die froze, then realized what he meant. “You—”

Was he lying all along? He might never have intended to save her!

“I don’t know metaphysics. I had no way of knowing. Meng Xiaomeng doesn’t realize this is a dream. I could only guess something was wrong with her memory.”

Fang Xiu leaned back. “Now I understand. You’re the ‘neglected self’ Meng Xiaomeng planned to throw away from the start.”

But Meng Xiaomeng didn’t expect that neglected self to persevere and carve out a life. She didn’t expect the idealized version to end up in a worse dead end than reality.

Hu Die narrowed her eyes, and energy began gathering in her hands. “Over the years, I’ve kept up with metaphysics. I—”

“I repeat, I’m here to negotiate.” Fang Xiu cut her off. “If you’re willing to end this, I’ll pull you out of this endless trap. In return, you hand me that porcelain pillow the moment you wake up.”

Hu Die: “…???” Why did the deal get better?

Hu Die: “Didn’t you hear me say I—”

“I’ll let you curse me, bind me with spells, whatever you want.”

Fang Xiu laced his fingers together. “It’s eight. You’ve got four hours to decide.”

Monster, Hu Die thought.

Anyone else would have dropped dead by now without sleep. This guy was still calmly negotiating.

But that “impossible” attitude gave her… the faintest sliver of hope.

…

Zhuang Pengdao waited outside the police station, frowning deeply.

They had already set up the Heaven-Breaking Technique on Hu Die’s route home. All they had to do was wait.

Zhuang Pengdao never cared about the story behind a sacrifice. He just knew that cutting off Hu Die’s control of the Immortal E would end the dream by force. As for what she had to sacrifice, that didn’t concern him.

He just needed to claim the Immortal E first.

Everything was ready, but then Fang Xiu took Hu Die into the station, and the two had been talking nonstop. Worse still, Zhuang Pengdao couldn’t kill her again like last time to reset the loop. If the dream restarted, all their setup would be wasted.

“What’s going on?” Zhuang Pengdao asked Mei Lan.

“I don’t know,” she said coolly. “I told you, I’ve never been able to figure out Fang Xiu.”

“You sure don’t seem anxious.”

“My only goal is to survive in these rituals,” Mei Lan replied. “Whether you win or he wins doesn’t matter to me.”

“No matter what he says, Hu Die’s coming home tonight. You think he’ll really convince her to give up on her own?”

Convincing people to give up was a game he was quite familiar with.

But they’d barely spent time with Hu Die, and their relationship wasn’t close. Zhuang Pengdao squinted at her face, trying to read it, but saw no despair.

Then, under his gaze, Fang Xiu said something more. Hu Die fell into brief thought, then pulled out her phone.

Not long after, a cab arrived at the station. Meng Xiaomeng walked in, carrying a paper bag, her face full of irritation.

A few minutes later, Jiao Jiao and Yan Yan slipped in as well.

Zhuang Pengdao narrowed his eyes, and then noticed Fang Xiu, standing at the window, had quietly turned his head to look straight at them.

He curled his lips into a faint, unsmiling grin.

---

<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

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Chapter 95: A Proposal

Huangsu Police Station, Youzhao City.

Officer Xiao Zhou opened his thermos and took a big gulp of strong tea. His sleep had been getting worse lately. Memory loss, general weakness, and a strange sense of sleepwalking while on duty had left him unsettled.

His coworkers were all sluggish too. Maybe a flu was going around he thought while yawning.

Just before nightfall, a young man in a red T-shirt came in asking for help.

It was strange. The wind was howling outside, but the guy was wearing only a T-shirt, his skin pale from the cold. He was thin too, like he hadn’t eaten properly in days.

Officer Xiao Zhou immediately felt alert. He rushed to bring him into the reception room and handed him a warm glass of sweet milk.

The young man looked rough, but his face was striking. His features were gentle and his eyes clear like a student’s. His black hair fell neatly along his cheeks, making him look like a model young citizen.

At his feet stood a fluffy little black dog, clinging to his pants, big eyes darting about like black grapes.

Oddly, Xiao Zhou felt the young man looked familiar. Could this be a celebrity? Or an influencer?

He seemed to have seen this person somewhere…. Before…

“My name is Fang Xiu. I haven’t been able to reach my cousin,” the young man said shyly. “Her name’s Hu Die. Her number is 1××××××××××. I lost my phone and luggage. I didn’t know what else to do…”

As he spoke, his head drooped pitifully, looking helpless.

His speech carried an odd accent. It didn’t sound like the local dialect but more like the unclear pronunciation of someone with a hearing impairment.

Oh no… he’s disabled.

Xiao Zhou felt a pang. He enunciated clearly, “Don’t worry, just warm up first. We’ll contact—what’s your cousin’s number again?”

Fang Xiu watched his lips carefully and repeated the number slowly.

Xiao Zhou jotted it down and jogged back to the office to make the call. Thankfully, someone picked up quickly.

“Hello? Ms. Hu? This is the Huangsu Police Station…”

Though he sympathized with Fang Xiu, safety came first. Xiao Zhou immediately asked about their actual relationship, just in case someone was using the situation to harass her.

Face with his question, Ms. Hu was silent for a moment.

“…I understand. I’ll come pick him up right away,” she said calmly.

Xiao Zhou let out a breath. “Okay. If you have any clothes, it’d be good to bring a jacket for him.”

The kid looked half-frozen. A sudden chill like this could easily cause a cold.

Hu Die chuckled softly and hung up.

As the sun set, night fell quickly. Snow drifted outside the windows. Most building lights were dark, and the whole city seemed to sink into shadows.

Inside the empty reception room, Fang Xiu sat by the window, eyes fixed on the falling snow. The little dog lay across his feet, occasionally licking its nose.

Creak.

The door opened, and Hu Die stepped in gracefully. She was carrying a large shopping bag with a brand-new down coat inside. It was bright red, a good match for Fang Xiu’s T-shirt.

Her curled hair was dusted with snowflakes, which soon melted into shimmering beads, soaking silently into her hair.

“You shouldn’t be able to understand human speech anymore.”

She set the bag down in front of him and sat across from him. “Your group has some skills. After more than five loops, even Disaster Resolvers can barely hold human form.”

“But you… you can still communicate normally. How are you managing that?”

Her voice was curious, a hint of girlishness flashed across her face.

Fang Xiu watched her lips move and responded slowly, “I really can’t understand spoken language. I’m just reading lips and mimicking pronunciation.”

He touched his throat, feeling the vibration of his vocal cords.

“As for how the others are coping, I wouldn’t know.”

“So you’re saying you’re not with those sneaky ones.” Hu Die propped her chin on one hand. “I can tell, you’re more likable. At least you asked me to meet you at the police station instead of stalking me like a creep.”

“Now, tell me. Why did you bring me here?”

Fang Xiu stared at her.

She was still wearing that burgundy sweater. She smelled warm and cozy, still looked young at a glance, but the lines at her eyes and lips told a different story.

“I’d like to ask you to die, Ms. Hu Die,” Fang Xiu said politely. “…In other words, it’s time to wake up, Meng Xiaomeng.”

Beside him, Bai Shuangying slowly turned his head.

…Not long ago, he had fully deciphered the looping spell.

The Immortal E had fused the dreams of the entire city into one shared illusion, crafting a dreamscape based on reality but not quite real.

Once Hu Die died, the dream would reset to 18:00. on the 17th. Her death followed a single rule: she would only pass right before or after Meng Xiaomeng died with no delays.

“No matter how powerful the Immortal E is, it can’t override cause and effect. At most, it can influence people’s awareness.” At the time, Bai Shuangying told Fang Xiu confidently, “It is probably that what you dream at night, you achieve during the day.”

For example, if one dreamed of spending a long life in their dream, they would wake up and still be young, but wiser due to decades of experience they had “experienced”. Or, if one dream of a path before an impending tragedy, and chose a different path, they would feel as if they were reborn when waking up.

Countless people would wish for such a yellow millet dream.

But of course, such beautiful things always had a price.

The E wasn’t some benevolent wish-granter. If someone died or went mad in the dream, who could say what the real-world consequences would be?

“Hu Die exploited a loophole. Dissolving a living soul takes time, so the Immortal E’s judgment is delayed.”

“She cast a spell on herself. As soon as she shows signs of death, the dream retreats by one day. That only destabilizes the mind and harms the soul. She doesn’t need to truly wake up.”

Fang Xiu: “Got it. She’s using her soul as a security deposit to delay payment.”

Ordinary dreamers remained unaffected. Everyone has strange dreams now and then, and most people forget them upon waking.

Disaster Resolvers weren’t so lucky. Every loop deducted their sanity like clockwork.

Bai Shuangying believed he had solved the mystery of the Immortal E:

Dreams at night become truths by day.
Unstable minds distort body and soul.
Break the cocoon, become the butterfly, only to fall into the Yellow Springs.

In reality, perhaps Meng Xiaomeng had faced some misfortune, or she and Hu Die had grown apart. Hu Die, wanting to mend things, used the E to make her dreams come true.

She probably hadn’t intended to trap anyone in a loop. As the controller, she could stay lucid in the dream, unlike the Disaster Resolvers who had to sacrifice their sleep.

But something went wrong. Her daughter was caught in a death loop. Afraid of her daughter paying the price upon waking, Hu Die extended the dream, trying to find a solution.

Well, a mother’s love for her child. Bai Shuangying couldn’t feel it personally, but he’d heard the stories.

He told Fang Xiu his theory, and Fang Xiu just smiled. “You’re surprisingly optimistic for someone who claims to hate humans.”

“Because you seem to attract these kinds of E’s,” Bai Shuangying replied matter-of-factly.

For some reason, Fang Xiu stared at him for a long while, then gave him an unusually long kiss. He liked the story Bai Shuangying had imagined. He smiled for a full thirty minutes.

At the time, Fang Xiu didn’t confirm the theory. Instead, he fell into a long silence.

Then he began drifting along, until Zhuang Pengdao took action, prompting Fang Xiu to make his surprise visit to the station.

Bai Shuangying had assumed Fang Xiu had come up with a balanced plan. He never expected him to open with “please go die”.

When did his human become this rude?

And more than that, Fang Xiu had called Hu Die “Meng Xiaomeng”.

Upon hearing the name, Hu Die’s expression darkened. “What did you call me?”

Fang Xiu: “I said ‘go die.’”

Hu Die: “…”

Hu Die: “…I meant my name.”

Fang Xiu scratched his head sheepishly and smiled. “Sorry, I’m a bit sleep-deprived… I called you Meng Xiaomeng.”

Hu Die stood up, the smile gone from her face. “So you came here just to be crazy. Goodbye.”

Fang Xiu didn’t stop her.

“You could keep living like this,” he said, his voice a little muffled. “Avoiding Disaster Resolvers while feeding on their souls, dragging this out as long as you can.”

Hu Die paused but didn’t look back. “Winners win and losers lose. Everyone plays the game. It all depends on their own abilities.”

“Living this same day over and over. Trapped in this city’s eternal winter.”

“That’s most people’s life anyway. There’s nothing wrong with it,” she said softly. “I haven’t lived enough. I’m only in my thirties.”

“…You’ll never see your mother again.” Fang Xiu spoke slowly. “If you turn back now, you might still get to see her.”

Hu Die turned around slowly. Her eyes were a little red.

“You’re still just a teenager.”

Fang Xiu’s tone was oddly gentle. “You only dreamed for ten-odd years in one night.”

“You tried to raise yourself, to fix something that went wrong. But it didn’t quite work. You got stuck, didn’t you?”

Hu Die’s expression gradually faded. She returned to the table and sat down again.

“I was just letting you all fend for yourselves before,” she said quietly. “But what’s the point of making me mad now? Want me to give you a quick death?”

“No, I came to negotiate.”

Despite the exhaustion, his dark eyes burned like fire.

“If ‘you’ are willing to end this, I’ll get you out of this deadlock. The price is your dream life. You’ll forget everything. It’ll be as if you died.”

Fang Xiu stared at Hu Die. Bai Shuangying stared at Fang Xiu.

…He suddenly realized he had never told Fang Xiu that a Disaster Resolver’s soul could be used as a substitute. Yet Fang Xiu had said it like it was obvious.

And this offer of his wasn’t the “normal solution”.

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Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

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Chapter 94: Before the Snowfall

Soon, the blood-red sunset fell once again.

Guan He was reaching his limit.

He had never gone this long without sleep. The loop didn’t follow a strict timeline, and his biological clock was completely ruined. His neck had practically vanished, and his hunched back wouldn’t straighten. The surrounding text wasn’t just unreadable. It began to flash and flicker on signs, the strokes trembling like they were alive.

Light stabbed at his eyes, breaking into disorienting flares. The voices around him were as indecipherable as code. He could barely respond, his tongue and throat felt replaced by cold iron, shriveled tight, dry and rigid, reeking of metallic blood.

So tired. Too tired. Thinking was impossible.

His brain was like liquid lead, swaying slowly inside his skull, pulling his balance out of alignment. His distorted body wouldn’t move properly, and he couldn’t even muster the energy to bounce around to stay awake.

All he wanted was to collapse and sleep like the dead.

What future, what life and death—it was all too far away to think about. He didn’t want to. He couldn’t.

Just as he was about to fall over, Fang Xiu strode past him and opened the room’s window. The wintry wind swept in and cleared out the stuffy heat. Guan He shivered, suddenly a little more awake.

“Ejeo… you all… jzkxw… only need to do two things… don’t sleep. Trust me.”

Fang Xiu crouched in front of him, his face blurred by exhaustion.

Guan He nodded with great effort.

A strange surge of frustration welled up in him. This was the fifth ritual, and even after two months of training, he hadn’t managed to become Fang Xiu’s right-hand man like he’d imagined.

Maybe cultivators had the advantage. Yan Yan always looked on the verge of death from fatigue, yet his transformation was still slower. Guan He and Cheng Songyun were currently the fastest mutating of everyone, dead weight to Fang Xiu at this point.

This couldn’t go on.

Guan He summoned his child ghost with difficulty, trying to mentally communicate: if you see me or Cheng Songyun about to fall asleep, smack us awake. Hard hits are fine too.

The child ghost tilted its head in vague understanding, then slapped Guan He across the face with a loud smack.

His head snapped back, and his scattered vision sharpened a little.

…He could make out Fang Xiu’s smile.

Even through blurred eyes, Fang Xiu’s expression was clear. He looked like an unusually aged elder, gently patting Guan He’s shoulder.

“You staying awake is the best help you can give me.”

His voice cut through the haze like breaking water. “This is good training too. Don’t underestimate the power of will.”

But then you’ll be without support, Guan He thought. He swallowed but couldn’t remember how to speak and just let out two muffled sounds.

He watched as Fang Xiu’s figure disappeared through the doorway.

……

Zhuang Pengdao calmly took out a yellow talisman and slipped it into Hu Die’s usual areas of activity.

His movements were casual and his posture straight. He seemed entirely unaffected by the looping.

The flowerbeds in the residential complex, the elevator, office floors, corners of coffee shops… With each cycle, he’d mapped out her common haunts precisely.

Mei Lan followed him with his two disciples in tow.

Jiao Jiao was so exhausted her eyes wouldn’t stay open. Bent over, she and Yan Yan looked like a pair of shrimp. After the fourth cycle, Zhuang Pengdao had given up on them.

“Same method again,” she said.

“If a spell has been refined for decades, might as well use it.”

Zhuang Pengdao smiled at her. “No matter what you say, this technique was born from celestial magic.”

Mei Lan didn’t smile back, but he didn’t mind. “Your team’s quality is impressive. That Fang Xiu really doesn’t know metaphysics? Doesn’t seem like it.”

“He definitely doesn’t. Just quick-witted,” Mei Lan said.

“Quick-witted? Intelligence can’t explain this situation.”

Zhuang Pengdao pressed his chest, revealing the faint outline of a jade pendant. “You and I are using others’ souls to offset transformation, which is why we haven’t broken down. But that guy is enduring all this empty-handed… ha.”

Mei Lan instinctively touched her own pendant. She could feel the twisted, struggling souls within. By letting them bear the corruption, she’d even snuck in a few naps.

Zhuang Pengdao had surely killed more. He must’ve rested too.

Their understanding of this E came from one source…

The “Immortal E” behind this dreamscape had once circulated within their Guishan Sect. It was quickly sold to a wealthy buyer, but the sect kept a record.

Even just a few lines had been enough to reveal the truth.

This was a looping dream. The dreamscape was too vast and precise. Unless the one controlling the E was a ghost immortal, they too would be affected.

…For example, the controller also had to suffer the loop’s soul damage.

To avoid mutating, they would have to use the same method: substitute others’ souls. In a way, this had become a kind of “arms race” to see who had the most “disposable souls”.

Loop after loop, only Fang Xiu was the anomaly.

“The world’s a big place. Maybe ordinary people have their own paths,” Mei Lan said quietly.

Zhuang Pengdao inserted a talisman between two cement slabs. “Easy for you to say. A normal person enduring the ‘Yellow Millet* E’ shouldn’t exist.”

*[Huangliang] It’s an idiom that comes from a tale from the Tang dynasty where it tells of a scholar who stayed at an inn and met a Taoist. As the innkeeper cooks millet porridge, the scholar falls asleep and dreams of living out his entire life in fame, fortune, and power. However, when he wakes up from the dream, he finds that the millet hasn’t even finished cooking. The idiom is used to describe something as illusory, fleeting (aka a fantasy, fleeting dream).

“He has no substitute soul and hasn’t rested. If that kid is really taking the full damage, then his mental strength is on par with a monster.”

That would mean Fang Xiu had minimized the soul damage to an absurd degree. Aside from the loop’s built-in effects, his mind was rock-steady, untouched even by endless sleep deprivation.

But that was like a “perfectly frictionless surface”, a theoretical concept only.

Mei Lan’s tone was cold. “Fang Xiu doesn’t interfere with your plan. Why care what he does?”

Zhuang Pengdao paused, then said with interest, “What, don’t want me looking at him? …You like him, Xiao Mei?”

“No.”

“I’m not the jealous ex type.”

“Annoying.” Disgust crept into Mei Lan’s expression.

“Doesn’t matter if you deny it. When I kill him, I’ll make it gentle,” Zhuang Pengdao said with a smile.

After figuring out the solution, he’d planned to wait until everyone else was incapacitated. But Fang Xiu was lasting too long. Zhuang Pengdao’s soul reserves weren’t infinite. He couldn’t afford to waste them.

Mei Lan stared at the ground without reacting.

The sunset bathed the earth in light. The ground was still clean, not yet covered in snow. In a crack between stones, a wild sprout had forced its way through, stubbornly clinging to a hint of green.

But she already knew its fate.

……

Jiao Jiao and Yan Yan stood hunched at the school gates, waiting for Meng Xiaomeng to finish class. Fang Xiu said he needed to care for teammates and hadn’t joined them.

Their posture looked odd, but their ridiculous outfits helped balance it out.

“That Zhuang Pengdao definitely knows the solution.” Jiao Jiao forced herself awake. “I’ve done several divinations. It’s same answer every time. I have no idea why he’s dragging it out… Does he want us dead?”

Tiredness makes people cranky. In her eyes now, Zhuang Pengdao wasn’t some handsome man, but an obnoxious humanoid pest.

“My dad said the strongest human spell is called the ‘Heaven-Breaking Technique’. Passed down from the gods.”

Yan Yan, also bent over, was stomping his toes. “If he’s using that, yeah, it takes time to prepare…”

“Heaven-Breaking Technique?” Jiao Jiao perked up.

“Yeah… yawn… needs a long setup…” Yan Yan let out a huge yawn, his mouth nearly splitting to his ears. “Once the core’s found, it cuts off all magic indiscriminately… like how Samadhi Fire can destroy E wholesale.”

“They think Hu Die is controlling the E, so they’ll shut her down… Doesn’t matter what she’s doing. It’ll all be force-stopped.”

“Is that even possible?!”

“It’s not that magical… Hu Die’s not a ghost immortal bound to the E. The E is just a tool in her hands.”

Yan Yan gave another yawn and a furry fox tail popped out of his back, nearly ripping his pants.

“The Heaven-Breaking Technique is an extraordinary spell. If Zhuang Pengdao really knows it, it’s no wonder he’s cleared so many E’s…”

Jiao Jiao was speechless. She found it plausible.

The Underworld had dared to toss them in here, and Zhuang Pengdao had remained calm the entire time. Maybe he really was the destined protagonist, armed with divine secrets, practically a walking guarantee.

“Does Fang Xiu know about this?” she asked.

She slowly pulled out her tarot cards, preparing another divination.

“Mm? Nah, I was just guessing. I didn’t tell Fang Xiu…” Yan Yan rubbed his eyes. “Doesn’t matter. If it really is the Heaven-Breaking Technique, once Zhuang Pengdao acts, we just ride the win… ow!”

Jiao Jiao smacked him on the head. His furry fox ears popped out too.

“We’re on the sixth ritual and you’re still talking crap.” She propped her eyelids open and shuffled the cards quickly. “You can’t slack off on life-or-death matters. That’s the iron rule.”

“We’re already curled like shrimp…” Yan Yan grumbled.

She shot him a glare. For the first time, she tried divining Fang Xiu’s fate. He’d always been average in their investigations, so it wasn’t worth the effort.

But now something felt wrong.

If Zhuang Pengdao really had the Heaven-Breaking Technique and kept it secret, that was suspicious. Their target this time was an Immortal E, something incredibly valuable in the living world. It wasn’t hard for her to not overthink.

Fang Xiu was clever, yet seemingly harmless. If even he was in danger, they needed a backup plan.

The beautiful tarot cards spun above her palm.

“Will Fang Xiu survive this ritual?”

No response.

She bit her tongue. Maybe her distorted mind was mispronouncing the question.

“Will Fang Xiu survive this ritual?”

This time she slowed down, but the cards still gave no reaction.

They floated slowly, like she’d said something utterly meaningless.

“No divination? Seriously? You can read Zhuang Pengdao, but not this ‘normal guy’?”

Yan Yan pressed his ears down and leaned in curiously.

Jokes aside, Jiao Jiao was a terrifyingly powerful diviner. There shouldn’t be anyone she couldn’t read.

As far as he knew, her only blind spots were herself and him, since their fates were tightly linked.

Yan Yan thought hard through the brain fog. “Doesn’t he have a ghost attached? Maybe Fang Xiu’s ghost has serious weight?”

“No, I asked about Fang Xiu. Even the Jade Emperor couldn’t block it.”

Jiao Jiao frowned and put the cards away. “Something’s wrong. Even if he were a living corpse or a pure-blood monster, I should still get something.”

“Then?”

“I don’t know,” she murmured.

“I only know one thing. Whatever he is, he can’t possibly be just a ‘normal person’.”

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