When Ji Heng’s gaze swept over, Li Zicang obediently shut his mouth. Feeling that the stare lingered too long, he gave an awkward laugh: “Just a joke, trying to lighten the mood.”
Su Er reread the words carefully, waiting until the long passage was about to fade before saying: “Isn’t this basically the god in the story?”
Offering protection, yet condemned by all.
He fixed his eyes on Ji Heng: “You must be the reincarnation of a god, born strong, but absolute light always means—”
Before he could finish, Ji Heng flicked him lightly on the forehead: “Don’t brainwash your own people.”
Su Er didn’t go on with his wild guesses, instead said seriously: “There’s actually a lot of useful information in this passage.”
“The coming darkness” perhaps hinted at a looming crisis; as for “the peach tree in the courtyard is about to wither,” it seemed connected to the peach branch Gou Baopu had given them.
Li Zicang thought for a moment: “Our past selves and who we are now probably aren’t that different.”
Su Er agreed with a nod. Xu He was the best example—even if he’d swapped for a righteous identity in reality, his ways were still self-serving. But Ji Heng was responsible, understood the value of life, completely different from the god in the story.
The game could change survival environments and appearances, but not a person’s essence.
At that moment, two figures were crossing the bridge from the far side of the river. Su Er looked up and saw familiar faces—Wan Yi and Su Tangyi.
Wan Yi greeted them and said: “There should be one more player.”
Suddenly, a black head popped out of the river, startling everyone back a step.
Yi Zhu dragged herself ashore, hair dripping wet, panting hard: “The rocks were too slippery—I fell into the river.”
The weather was hot, so the water on her clothes began evaporating quickly.
Even so, her white shirt clung too closely to her curves, and everyone instinctively turned their heads away. Yi Zhu, however, seemed utterly unconcerned, leaning casually against a tree.
“There are still two more trials of life and death left,” Li Zicang gave a little cough, thumb brushing his chin. “According to the deal, three days later the god will come to reap our lives.”
The moment the deal was struck, the two sides were already set against each other.
Ji Heng mused: “Let’s try to find if there’s a human settlement.”
Li Zicang scrambled up a tall tree like a monkey to scout the surroundings.
The only one clearly out of sorts was Su Er.
He had an unusual sixth sense—he kept feeling that while Yi Zhu idly kicked at pebbles, she was actually watching him through the river’s reflection.
Recalling their encounters since entering Deception, he couldn’t remember ever offending her.
Just then, Yi Zhu suddenly walked up to him, eyes roving boldly up and down. A spray can appeared in her hand: “Use this, and it can freeze an ordinary fierce ghost for ten seconds.”
Don’t underestimate ten seconds—sometimes it could save a life.
Su Er probed: “You want to sell it to me?”
Yi Zhu shook her head: “I’ve heard your theory, and it makes some sense.” Seeing he didn’t reply, she went on: “If you want to clear the game, you have to play recklessly.”
She dragged out the last word.
Su Er felt this girl’s speech was downright erratic, her thoughts unreadable, so he waited quietly for more.
Yi Zhu: “This spray… I’ll trade it for one night with you.”
“......”a
“If I get pregnant, the god can’t take me away.”
If the god were to take her, it would mean indirectly killing an innocent life.
Su Er straightened slightly, face turning serious: “A child is not something to be used.”
Yi Zhu looked genuinely puzzled: “I don’t understand.” Then she upped the ante: “Two items.”
Originally, he utterly despised such an idea, but the mocking words died on his lips.
It seemed Yi Zhu really didn’t understand the bond that should exist between parents and children. Even in Wudu’s dungeon, where sibling rivalry could turn to bloodshed, the townsfolk still held to basic moral concepts. It was hard to imagine what kind of twisted world she had lived in before.
Knowing subconscious beliefs are hard to shake, Su Er sighed and rephrased: “It’s only three days—you can’t rely on that idea.”
Su Tangyi, visibly embarrassed, tugged Yi Zhu aside and whispered: “Even if something happened, it takes about a week after to…”
Her last words dropped too low to hear.
Hearing this, Yi Zhu disappointedly put away the spray.
As a fellow woman, Su Tangyi frowned: “And besides, the thought of escaping doom by having a child—that’s so irresponsible.” Then, after a pause, she asked softly: “Were your parents bad to you?”
Yi Zhu shook her head: “They were good. So good it didn’t feel real.”
But she still couldn’t grasp the ties of kinship.
That one sentence instantly cast a pall over the group.
Su Er couldn’t help thinking of the family portrait… but fake was fake—it could never truly become real.
The ground trembled slightly, dust rising and choking.
Li Zicang leapt down from the tree, legs trembling numb: “Northwest direction—it looks like there are people!”
The awkward atmosphere broke, and everyone let out a breath of relief.
As they moved on, Su Er subtly kept his distance from Yi Zhu, as if afraid she might pounce on him.
Seeing this rare timidity, Ji Heng found it amusing. Glancing at Yi Zhu, who was still staring fixedly at Su Er, he asked: “Why pick him?”
Yi Zhu: “He’s young. Has energy.”
Walking in front, Li Zicang twitched his lips—this standard for a partner was almost as funny as Ji Heng’s.
Yi Zhu pointed at her own head: “My brain’s not right. I’m not fit to raise a child.”
She had seen how normal parents and children interacted, so she knew her thinking wasn’t quite right. Besides, the others were too cunning and unreadable—only Su Er could be trusted as someone cold on the outside but warm on the inside.
Given a ‘Good Person Card’ out of nowhere, Su Er forced a slight tug at the corner of his mouth.
The sound of the river was left behind. Though the area was lush with vegetation, the humidity was still much lower than in normal places.
Ahead lay a village. Li Zicang slowed his steps: “Some places are very unwelcoming—we’d better observe first.”
His words came a little late. The big black dog tied at the village gate barked a few times toward them, immediately drawing the villagers’ attention.
Li Zicang turned back to ask: “Do we go in, or leave?”
A cold drop of water suddenly fell onto his eyelashes. Li Zicang froze, held out his hand: “It’s raining?”
Thunder rumbled at the horizon, and raindrops began pelting down. Villagers not far away started cheering wildly. Suddenly, someone shouted toward them: “It’s the god’s envoys—it must be the envoys!”
The scrawny villagers ran with surprising speed, rushing forward to surround the players.
The excitement only subsided when an old man with a goatee appeared.
“Honored envoys—” The village chief spread his arms, lifted his face to let the rain wash over him, then raised both hands over his head and knelt to bow.
All the villagers copied his movements. Men, women, young, old—everyone knelt to the ground.
Compared to these devout villagers, the players looked indifferent. Not one reached out to help the old man up.
The chief kowtowed nine times before standing, then shouted hoarsely: “Welcome the envoys!”
Led by the villagers, the players entered the village.
Walking side by side, Ji Heng murmured to Su Er: “Did you notice?”
Su Er nodded. On the surface, the villagers seemed respectful, but in reality they had people blocking front and back, as though afraid they would run.
Ji Heng’s lips curved into an amused smile: “There’s a fixed ritual for receiving envoys here—that means before us, there must have been other ‘envoys.’”
And where those people ended up—that was the real question.
The village was small, with three wells, two of them at the eastern entrance.
The chief bowed slightly, speaking humbly: “The houses at the east end are the most comfortable to live in.”
He was right. The rooms were especially cool, and the sheets and bedding carried the faint scent of soap, freshly changed.
Su Er lowered his gaze: “One house for the men, one for the women is enough.”
“Exactly,” Su Tangyi agreed with a smile. “One person to a room would be too much trouble.”
The chief waved his hands: “These are specially prepared resting places for the envoys.”
“That’s right!” a child blurted out. “Every July the envoys descend, so we always clean them ahead of time.”
With such earnest hospitality, the players could only nod in agreement.
The villagers treated the rain like a treasure. Su Er, however, had no love for getting soaked. Pointing to the house on the far edge, he said: “I’ll take that one.”
After that, he was going to go in and rest.
He was about to step inside when a bony hand suddenly gripped his wrist with surprising strength. The chief’s eyes gleamed: “Does the envoy not like the rain?”
Glancing at those yellowed, withered fingers, Su Er replied evenly: “I like it very much.”
The chief’s smile turned a little dark: “Then why not stay and bathe in God’s grace with us?”
Su Er pulled his hand free, voice cold: “My descent to the mortal world has been too exhausting.”
“......”
“Heaven and earth are separated by more than ten thousand fathoms. To fall into the mortal realm at all… Forget it. You mere mortals could never know such hardship.”
With that, he turned and went inside without looking back.
The chief’s cracked lips moved twice, struck dumb. After a moment, his expression darkened as he looked at the other players: “Who else wishes to rest?”
None of them wanted to risk catching sick by standing in the rain, so the remaining five hurried into their rooms.
“......”
Ji Heng, heading into Su Er’s room, raised his hand to knock but noticed the door was left slightly ajar, intentionally unlocked.
Pushing it open, he saw Su Er sitting on a stool, raising an eyebrow at him: “What’s the chief’s reaction?”
Ji Heng told the truth: “He probably wants to skin you alive.”
Su Er just laughed.
The village was undoubtedly strange, but since they acknowledged them as envoys, they wouldn’t risk acting over such a minor conflict.
Whether in celebration of the rain, or in honor of their “guests,” the villagers announced a feast for that night.
Su Er arrived later than the others. When Li Zicang saw him, he jerked his chin toward the front.
On the long table lay six pig heads, bloody, their faces frozen in the terror of death. In the light drizzle, blood seeped across the platters.
The chief had bowls and chopsticks prepared: “Please, sit.”
Su Er did as told and sat down.
The villagers sat at round tables, their food much more ordinary—at least cooked. The chief himself didn’t sit. He cut a slice of raw meat and brought it first to Su Er: “Please, envoy, partake.”
After a few seconds of silence, Su Er flicked his arm and sent the plate crashing to the ground.
The sharp crack rang especially clear against the rain.
The once-friendly villagers all stood at once, expressions turning hostile.
The chief still held the tray, but his eyes had already hardened with malice.
Su Er showed no fear. Instead, he barked: “In the mortal world, gods are offered pig heads—but do you think gods eat this? You give it to me—am I worthy?”
“......”
The chief froze, at a loss for words.
Su Er sneered: “You don’t even know the proper rites, yet you dare host envoys?” Then he turned to Ji Heng: “Tell him what envoys actually eat.”
Ji Heng said coolly: “Naturally, honey gathered from the mountains at five in the morning. And before the meal, one must rinse with dew collected at sunrise.”
Li Zicang, who had once known true hunger, quickly added: “And fresh fruits and vegetables can’t be left out.”
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