Other than Ji Heng and Su Er, the rest of the players retreated another few dozen meters to a safe distance before the last shovel went down, afraid they wouldn’t be able to run if something unexpected happened.
At this moment, seeing Su Er and the Holy Infant staring at each other—big eyes meeting small ones—they too looked at one another in disbelief.
“Did… did it work?” Li Zicang asked, incredulous.
He really hadn’t held out much hope.
Ghosts had their own unique ways of telling humans apart; most players believed it was through sensing magnetic fields. So when Su Er tried to analyze ghosts as if they were human, they figured he might have a backup plan but weren’t willing to invest much in him.
Wan Yi raised his brows. “Thinking about it carefully, it’s not impossible.”
The Holy Infant was a special case: buried underground, uneducated. But what made this even more unusual was Su Er—he dared to think differently, and with Ji Heng backing him, he could put those thoughts into action.
Everyone wanted to get a closer look, but since there was no movement, they were afraid the Holy Infant might suddenly lash out.
Just as they hesitated, Ji Heng casually lifted the Holy Infant with one arm and walked toward them.
Wan Yi, standing closer to the front, swallowed hard but didn’t step back. He asked softly, “How long will your potion last?”
Yi Zhu replied, “Relax. A little bit is enough to last two days, and I sprayed extra on everyone.”
Wan Yi said, “But what if those children take a bath…”
Annoyed by his nagging, Yi Zhu snapped impatiently, “If it were that easy to wash off, it would just be called perfume. How could it qualify as a proper item?”
Wan Yi awkwardly rubbed his nose. Clearly, her attitude toward Su Er had been much friendlier.
Sensing his thoughts, Yi Zhu sneered. “He’s young.”
She just liked them young.
“......”a
After that exchange, Ji Heng approached with the Holy Infant in his arm.
Wan Yi held his breath. The infant’s body was wrapped in white cloth from head to toe, only exposing a pair of red eyes—eyes like twin rubies that stared directly at him.
So many giant babies.
The Holy Infant was full of confusion. There weren’t that many children in the village—why did they suddenly increase?
Were there new births? Outsiders’ children?
Too many questions it couldn’t answer. In the end, it gave up thinking.
Su Er followed behind Ji Heng, keeping an eye on the mirror. Whenever the Holy Infant was lost in thought, the heart symbol on the mirror began to beat. At one point, it thumped wildly, until his own heart almost leapt into his throat—then it calmed. Slowly, a line of small text appeared: [The Guard Captain election is about to begin. Self-destruction or destroy the town—this is the question.]
The second round’s “id answer” appeared.
Su Er’s gaze deepened. Green Lotus Sage hadn’t lied—coming here was indeed rewarding.
Just with the information from the first two rounds, one could already outline the shape of a death trap. Unfortunately, it was useless for him now.
He tilted his head slightly to peek at Ji Heng’s mirror. Compared to his own, Ji Heng’s was startlingly concise:
[Does this world still need to exist?]
Su Er was silent for a long while. Back then, when he’d clasped Ji Heng’s hand excitedly and teased, “So you’re not such a good person either,” it had been half in jest. Now, it seemed he hadn’t been wrong at all.
Meanwhile, Li Zicang wanted to cry. His hint was nothing more than a complaint about food shortages and famine—it was basically spelling out the coming apocalypse.
Each player had gained something, but they forced down the turbulence in their hearts and focused on the present.
The Holy Infant closed its eyes again. Ji Heng halted, turned slightly, and glanced behind him. Wan Yi had already filled in the pit, re-tethered the black dog, making sure no traces were left.
In silence, they returned to the courtyard.
For the time being, they settled the Holy Infant inside a house. Now gathered in the yard, no one knew what to say.
“Are we… safe now?” After a long pause, Su Tangyi broke the silence. Before anyone could answer, she shook her head. “No, still not safe enough.”
The Holy Infant could provide shelter, but if it was weaker than the god, it might not be able to protect everyone.
She let out a long sigh. “Too bad this Holy Infant has no siblings.”
Hearing her regretful murmur, Su Er suddenly felt that, compared to his companions, he was actually quite normal. Then he said, “Why don’t we go look for its mother?”
“......”
Stunned, Su Tangyi instinctively looked at Ji Heng… wasn’t he going to stop this?
“At present, there’s no better plan,” Ji Heng said coolly. “Only one day remains. We can’t just sit indoors waiting for the god to descend.”
It did make sense.
Calming her heartbeat, Su Tangyi said gravely, “But after death, its mother may not have become a ghost. Besides, she died in terror during childbirth, fearing the god. Even if she exists, she wouldn’t be much help.”
Su Er pondered briefly. “Then let’s go look for its father.”
Su Tangyi was speechless. After a moment, she said, “You win.”
Whether or not they agreed with his idea, one thing Ji Heng had said earlier struck home: on the last day, they had to do something. Staying indoors only felt like waiting to die.
They were nervous; so were the villagers. At dawn, the villagers stood guard at the entrance, with the sacrificial rite approaching—they feared last-minute trouble.
The players seized on the village chief’s anxiety, saying they wanted someone to help shell melon seeds. When the chief came in, some of them lay sprawled on the stone table, some leaned against chairs pretending to nap, and some even sat in the trees enjoying the breeze… it looked like they were living like local tyrants.
Shelling melon seeds.
The chief’s eyelid twitched. Why not also find two pretty girls to fan them? Then he thought again—at this point, planting someone to watch them wasn’t a bad idea.
He was just about to agree when Li Zicang grinned roguishly. “She has to have a slim waist and sharp face, no older than eighteen.”
The chief’s mouth twitched. “There are no such girls in the village.”
Li Zicang laughed. “Then a mature lady with lingering charm will do.”
The chief’s face darkened further, but Su Er cut in at just the right moment: “Actually, I liked that kid from yesterday.”
Li Zicang choked. “A kid…”
The chief interjected, “As it happens, that child’s been asking about you. I’ll call him over right away.”
He didn’t give them any chance to refuse and went straight to fetch the boy.
Li Zicang raised his brows at Su Er. “Done.”
Fifteen minutes later, the child was dragged in reluctantly. On the way, the chief had given him plenty of instructions and even handed him a whistle. His task was to watch the players, and if any god envoy tried to run, he was to blow the whistle immediately.
The once cocky brat, now thrust into social “education,” was like a paper tiger with its skin torn. He was so intimidated that, faced with the envoys again, he behaved meekly—terrified that one wrong word would make the craziest among them light a torch and drag him to die together.
Su Er went straight to the point: “Tell us the story of the Holy Infant’s parents.”
What the child recounted wasn’t much different from the story on the well’s mural, except it had an added ending: “Her cowardly clinging to life brought disaster. The enraged villagers stuffed her corpse into a tree hollow in a kneeling position, to eternally repent before the god.”
Su Er frowned. “Why a tree hollow?”
The child said, “They say trees are the god’s embodiment in the desert. Long ago, the village carried out the tree punishment—shoving criminals who committed great sins into tree hollows alive, to lessen their guilt.”
After hearing this, Su Er let out a sigh. In tormenting people and spinning tales, no race surpassed humankind. “Where’s that tree now?”
The child pointed to the side, and several gazes converged on the ancient tree in the courtyard.
“The god envoys are also sinners. That’s why, over the years, envoys have always been arranged to live here.”
Thinking of the sour fruits they’d picked yesterday and eaten down to the pits, Li Zicang gagged, but still forced himself to walk to the big tree.
He knocked on the trunk a few times, but it wasn’t like a wall—there was no echo.
Just then Ji Heng walked over, drew a dagger, and slashed hard. A section of bark split open at once. Only then did everyone realize the outer layer of bark had been glued on, and inside it had been sealed with cement.
Li Zicang’s nausea worsened. “Such a big hollow, and the tree can still live?”
Su Er explained seriously, “The xylem and phloem still supply water and nutrients.”
Li Zicang: “…Impressive.”
The child was startled by their bold behavior, jumping up to try to stop them. Yi Zhu, never patient with brats, knocked him out with a single hand chop.
The cement wasn’t too thick. When they forced it open, a wave of rotting stench rushed out. Ji Heng frowned, shifting to stand upwind.
Once he moved aside, the contents of the hollow came into view.
A few insects crawling out were ignored. What stood out was the skull embedded inside.
Li Zicang, unsure if he should feel regret or relief, muttered, “Completely dead.”
Su Er stared at the bones for a few seconds, then spoke slowly: “A person who dared to stand up the god just to live… would such a one really be willing to rest in peace as dust to dust?”
Leaves rustled, mingling with a faint voice, until no third sound could be heard in the world.
The skull slowly turned. Its eyeballs had long since rotted away, leaving two dark, hollow sockets that fixed directly on Su Er.
Li Zicang must have sensed something too, for when he looked up, his heart nearly stopped from fright.
But Su Er stepped forward toward the bones. As he passed, Li Zicang whispered, “What if these bones connect with the Holy Infant and expose our ruse?”
Wan Yi immediately dismissed his worry. “The Holy Infant probably doesn’t even know the word ‘mother.’”
Put bluntly—it couldn’t understand human speech.
Now standing beside the bones, Su Er greeted respectfully, “Hello.”
The skeleton’s arm stretched out of the hollow. Su Er had anticipated this, and instantly dodged behind Ji Heng. The hand aiming for his throat was pinned to the tree by Ji Heng’s dagger, though it didn’t truly harm the skeleton.
It was simply stiff from disuse.
Meeting Ji Heng’s gaze, Su Er gave a tiny nod. Ji Heng then told the others: “Go inside. Don’t listen. Don’t look.”
His voice carried weight.
Everyone had secrets they didn’t want to expose. Even if curiosity burned, none wanted trouble for it. The players quickly retreated indoors and shut the doors and windows.
Su Er then used a stun gun to give the skeleton a jolt of yin energy.
Good stuff!
The skeleton immediately developed the thought of killing him to seize the item, but before it could act, Su Er tossed it to it. As expected, the bones were burned by it and had to throw it back like a hot potato.
Su Er picked it up again and sighed. “Why are all ghosts so naïve when it comes to this sort of thing?”
He had lost count of how many tried to snatch tools clearly meant for personal use. In truth, even the dullest person wouldn’t use a freely usable item as bait.
“In one more day, the god will descend,” the skeleton finally spoke—with the voice of a girlish maiden.
This was the second talking skeleton Su Er had encountered. If it weren’t already a wife and mother, he might have wanted to introduce it to Zhou Linjun.
Steadying his mind, he pointed at the shock device and stated plainly, “Yin energy in exchange for protection.”
The skeleton shook its head. “Too dangerous.”
Unwilling to give up, Su Er probed further: “And your husband? I could dig him up too.”
“He aged and died naturally, cowardly by nature. After death, he couldn’t become a ghost.”
Su Er chuckled awkwardly. “You must at least have some relatives. I can tell from your family’s very bones that you all have a rebellious streak of ‘my fate is mine, not heaven’s.’”
So irritating.
Glancing again at the shock device, the skeleton decided to respond. Her voice floated faintly: “My great-grandmother did become a ghost. She still roams about on the mountain opposite.”
Su Er quickly asked, “If I paid with yin energy, could she be persuaded to gather some ghostly friends?”
The skeleton had seen plenty of cowards clinging to life—she herself was one—but one with a survival instinct as fierce as his was rare.
“Don’t waste your efforts,” she said coldly. “Even if all the ghosts here gathered together, they could never shake the god.”
Su Er frowned slightly. He never really believed the villagers’ “god” was truly divine. After all, a real god might ignore human lives, but would never extend an olive branch only to reap it afterward.
Still, he couldn’t help underestimating the opponent’s strength.
Seeing his troubled look, the skeleton pointed out a path forward: “With that child’s protection, you have a fifty percent chance of surviving.”
Half.
As someone who never gambled on odds, Su Er corrected her: “We don’t need to shake the god’s position—just counterbalance it.” He gestured. “When the time comes, have the mountain ghosts form a formation… like the Eighteen Arhats, with us envoys hiding in the center.”
At the critical moment, they could throw out all kinds of tools.
“......”
The skeleton pictured it: countless fierce ghosts like door gods confronting the deity, while mortals cowered at the center with the Holy Infant as their final shield, hugging their heads and not daring to move.
That scene, that contrast—even the god would be stunned by such an unprecedentedly ridiculous stunt!
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