The stench of the White Beast’s excrement was far worse than that of ordinary birds. As a qualified businessman, Gou Baopu immediately handed over a tissue and helped the Skeleton wipe it off.
But wiping across the pale skull only spread it further, and soon the foul smell filled the entire office.
The Skeleton’s expression was unreadable, but from his voice—suppressed to the extreme—Gou Baopu could hear the warning signs of an impending storm: “Explain.”
The change came too suddenly. Gou Baopu sighed, reached out, and grabbed the White Beast in his palm. “Tell me about your relationship with Su Er.”
The White Beast was fierce and combative, refusing to cooperate. Gou Baopu, ruthless as ever, smiled as he crushed it to death, siphoning off a trace of yin energy in the process.
Unfortunately, that trace was like a drop in the ocean. If Su Er’s stun gun could refine at eighty percent purity, then at best, ordinary ghosts devouring one another could only absorb a few meager points of each other’s energy.
Learning from this, when the Pointed-Beak Bird was caught, it behaved meekly and obediently explained some of the situation. It left out much, of course—though the Deception Game updated each year, to reveal everything would be tantamount to leaking the exam answers.
When the explanation ended, Zhou Linjun sneered. “What a coincidence, huh?”
He was just planning to transfer his assets, and over there Su Er happened to be holding custody of monsters.
“A marriage contract,” Gou Baopu brought up the old matter, calmly explaining, “The result of the ghost marriage is that Su Er carries a husband-killing fate.”
And the one being killed… wasn’t it you?
The Skeleton, enraged, vented his anger on the nearby monsters, crushing two of them in his hands. “Such a ridiculous marriage, and the rules allow it?”
Gou Baopu only smiled without answering, turning his chair to face the window.
The stench indoors was unbearable, so for once he got up and opened the window for ventilation.
Su Er’s death-end game lay in Wudu, and Zhou Linjun just happened to be a man of that world, too. There, the command of parents was the supreme law within the instance.
“Fate, is it?” Gou Baopu shook his head, then amended, “It’s more like karmic retribution.”
Zhou Linjun said, “That day he dressed as a woman to trick the old crone—”
Before he could finish, Gou Baopu cut in: “Since ancient times there’ve been people marrying off roosters. Not to mention this is a ghost marriage—no need to fuss over details.”
The dead are dead—what demands can they make?
“......”a
Outside the hall, Su Er feigned confidence as he stepped into the inner chamber.
He guessed the disappearance of the monsters might be related to the asset transfer, but he dared not be too presumptuous and went straight to the middle-aged man.
“The gift money is gone,” Su Er said with mock sorrow, like a cat weeping over a mouse. “Do I owe a big compensation?”
Just as a claw seemed ready to reach for him, the middle-aged man stepped back and said coldly, “No need.”
Taking the hint, Su Er lowered his arms, sighed in relief, and turned back to continue collecting gifts.
The middle-aged man stopped him. “There’s no need for so many people to collect the money. You change jobs.”
Behind him, Su Er hid the curve of a smile, pretending to go pick up a tray.
The man twitched at the mouth and instead told him to sit quietly aside, adding a warning: “I thought about it carefully. Your earlier idea wasn’t wrong—if the bride runs away, it’s necessary to keep a substitute groom.”
Su Er rested his hands obediently on his knees and nodded.
With only five minutes left before the wedding, everything on the surface returned to calm.
Most of the guests had arrived. Yi Zhu looked delighted. “We got lucky with this one.”
Su Er had been generous enough to take care of their table’s monsters as well.
Wan Yi narrowed his eyes, pondering what had happened earlier. Su Er couldn’t possibly have such power himself—could it be some artifact?
Catching sight of his frown, Yi Zhu yawned. “Don’t overthink it.”
The words jolted Wan Yi awake.
He put away his tangled thoughts. Even if he figured it out, the thing wouldn’t end up in his pocket—why rack his brains?
The lights suddenly dimmed. The emcee took the stage, delivering the same old formulaic opening speech.
Su Er sat quietly in an inconspicuous corner, isolated from the others. Glancing left, he couldn’t help but shake his head.
The guests who’d been smiling and chatting moments earlier now had faces flushed with bluish-purple. A few even had eyes glowing green. With players sitting among them, one could only imagine their torment.
Su Er caught the faint scent of blood. The lighting was dim, but barely enough to see. From the corner of his eye, he saw a player’s leg missing a chunk of flesh. Whatever healing item he’d used had already closed the wound, but the pain was very real—cold sweat still beaded on his brow.
Taking a sip of water, Su Er thought to himself that no job was ever simple.
The lights focused on the central aisle. As the bride and groom entered, the atmosphere rose to a climax.
The hall brightened again. Those who’d collected the gift money finished their task and were led by the middle-aged man to their seats. Ji Heng immediately came over to Su Er’s table. Wan Yi and Yi Zhu did the same, excusing themselves by saying they all knew each other—no need to sit separately.
The man didn’t press the matter, only saying with meaning, “Sitting together is good too.”
The bride and groom wore heavy makeup. Su Er leaned his head on his hand, watching them show off their affection, occasionally clapping along.
“The bouquet is the passing of happiness. The beautiful bride wishes to bring this romance to the next kind soul. Any unmarried guests who want to catch happiness, please come on stage!”
There was no response— even the bridesmaids stood stiffly in place.
The emcee joked, “Looks like everyone’s shy. Why don’t we leave it all to fate?”
He had the bride face away from the crowd and randomly point at people in the audience. If someone was already married, they’d be skipped.
The bride, blushing, said, “The third person counterclockwise from Table 5… all the girls at Table 8… everyone unmarried at Table 10…”
One call after another, and as luck would have it, the players were all included. The only ones spared were the waiters.
“The bouquet is usually caught by girls, and besides, I’m married.” A male player stood up to refuse.
“Married?” The bride turned to him, covering her mouth in surprise. “Really?”
The player was about to nod, but his long-trained sixth sense made him swallow the words. If refusal were that easy, this wouldn’t be an instance game. The chance of getting hit by the bouquet was only one in ten right now—no need to fight it head-on.
He adjusted his expression, smiled, and walked onto the stage. “Just kidding earlier.”
Seeing his compliance, the bride looked faintly regretful. The others caught that subtlety and knew what to do— they all went up.
“Everyone has the right to happiness,” the bride said, turning her back again. “Today both men and women can compete for the bouquet.”
Su Er and Ji Heng exchanged a glance. His left eyebrow arched slightly… should they fight for it?
Was this an opportunity or a trap? Hard to say yet.
The answer came quickly. The bride deliberately raised the bouquet high— but inside wasn’t roses. It was a burning candle. The candle was strange: it crackled as if its wick were burning by explosion.
Su Er instantly lost any interest in grabbing it.
The bride didn’t give them much time to react. She skipped the countdown and threw it directly behind her.
From her raised posture, it should’ve hit the ceiling. But as soon as the bouquet left her hands, several thumb-thick fiery snakes slithered out of the flame and steered its course.
It bypassed the first row and shot straight toward Qiao Yue.
Ever since the middle-aged man had criticized her for wearing black and being unlucky, Qiao Yue had been on edge. Now certain she was being targeted, she circled to dodge but couldn’t avoid it. A spike of resentment rose in her—
Hadn’t the others on that bus all chosen not to warn her? Didn’t they all just want her as cannon fodder?
Su Er caught her expression with a sidelong glance and knew trouble was coming. When it came to bad luck, he’d rank second— no one would dare claim first.
As expected, when dodging, Qiao Yue scanned the surroundings and quickly locked onto Su Er.
He was nearby, and besides, he wasn’t that strong. Why did even the host treat him differently?
Driven by jealousy, she used a speed-boost item, planning to slip behind him as cover.
But forewarned is forearmed. The moment Qiao Yue pulled out the item, Su Er had already darted behind Ji Heng. When she came up behind him, Ji Heng turned sideways and kicked her clean off the stage.
“Quick reflexes,” Ji Heng said with a half-smile.
Wan Yi was surprised. Su Er and Ji Heng seemed close, yet when it came to using him as a shield, there wasn’t the slightest hesitation.
Su Er was calm about it: “He can handle it.”
Ji Heng’s physical power was more than enough to deal with Qiao Yue. As for Su Er, he needed to keep his stun gun hidden for when it really mattered.
Wan Yi thought this must be some sort of tacit understanding. When collecting gift money earlier, Ji Heng had also unhesitatingly freed him from risk. He couldn’t help but imagine what would happen if he tried to use their organization’s leader as a shield.
The outcome was obvious—he’d probably be beaten half to death.
The bouquet still ended up in Qiao Yue’s arms. The fiery snakes slithered toward her body, but she quickly scattered some silver powder. The candle immediately lost its power, and the snakes vanished with it.
That powder was far more precious than any speed item. Though safe, Qiao Yue’s face twisted in pain at the loss.
Seeing this, Su Er shook his head. He never understood the mindset of people who clung to rare items until the last second, gambling with others’ lives for their own survival.
Qiao Yue didn’t try to explain. She climbed back on stage, suddenly feeling a chill. Looking up, she met a pair of cold, piercing eyes. Swallowing hard, she stepped away— she’d forgotten, in those frantic seconds, that Su Er and Ji Heng had ties.
Yi Zhu chuckled sweetly. “Even a dog has to look at who its master is. He’s got someone backing him.”
Su Er coughed.
Yi Zhu belatedly realized her words had kind of insulted the victim too.
Just then, the bride approached Qiao Yue, a worried look on her face. “You didn’t get hurt, did you?”
Qiao Yue gave a stiff, false smile and avoided her helping hand. “I’m fine.”
The emcee smoothed things over. “To catch the bouquet of happiness, everyone gave it their all.”
The players twitched at that line.
The emcee handed each of them a single rose and asked them to step down.
They’d barely sat back down when waiters began stacking a champagne tower. The groom held the bride’s hand, ready to pour. At the same time, several performers in costumes entered, signaling there’d be more shows coming.
The waiter who had escaped earlier wasn’t so lucky this time.
The performers dragged him over, and the middle-aged man explained that their next program needed a volunteer. It was a magic trick— the Great Human Transformation.
Su Er pricked up his ears. Hearing that, he couldn’t help but sigh. What “Great Human Transformation”— they might as well call it “Sending You Off.”
Ji Heng suddenly said, “This wedding has a lot of segments.”
Saying that felt like a deliberate pressure play. Ji Heng wouldn't be that petty, of course — Wan Yi narrowed his eyes, thinking over the deeper meaning. In the next moment, he saw Su Er pick up his cup, stand, and go over to chat with another table of guests.
It seemed Su Er had figured something out — he headed straight for the middle-aged man to make conversation.
Qiao Yue saw them moving and intended to go over to eavesdrop.
Su Er was dealing with a table full of monsters; Ji Heng had to keep an eye on him and didn’t have time for other matters. “Cover me for a bit,” he said.
Yi Zhu: “I’ll draw the hate — what’s the benefit?”
Ji Heng answered slowly: “West of the city, the wedding.”
Yi Zhu was smart and quickly caught on. Since the game name mentioned this, the bride’s wedding must be the key. Yet after scanning the hall she noticed something odd: she couldn’t see the bride’s parents anywhere.
Where benefits are involved, people try hard. Yi Zhu sashayed over to Qiao Yue, grabbed her hand, and forced her to stay, insisting it was time to catch up on old times.
Qiao Yue could only fret, annoyed: “What are you doing?”
Yi Zhu, cool as a breeze: “You’re weaker than me — better sit down.”
Su Er didn’t know about that scuffle; he was asking about the bride’s parents.
The guests were monsters in human masks, but they took their roles seriously — after all, they were paid. In the past, some had slackened off and been punished by the host.
Normally, they’d make a show of resisting before cooperating; Su Er’s earlier bagging of the gift money had clearly intimidated them, so they freely gave two pieces of information.
First, the bride has a bad relationship with her parents, so they didn’t attend the wedding.
Second, the bride has a twin sister who’s rumored to have a crush on the groom.
Su Er sighed deeply: “What a melodramatic plot!”
The monsters playing guests agreed — the scripts get more and more absurd each year, but as long as they can eat people, who cares about rules?
Of course they only thought this inwardly; no one dared complain about the game out loud.
Su Er walked back to Ji Heng and concluded: “There’s a rift between the sisters.”
Wan Yi came back around then, having gone through some trouble to confirm basically the same info Su Er had gathered.
“Normally, we’d first look for the bride’s parents and the twin sister, unravelling layer by layer,” Su Er leaned back in his chair. “But this isn’t a full instance with a mainline plot.”
It’s only a mini-game; the monsters are just doing a bit of background acting — it shouldn’t be too messy.
Wan Yi: “I have an idea — look at the game’s name.”
He didn’t go into detail, but Ji Heng gave a slight nod.
Whether it’s a substitution wedding or a jealous twin sabotaging things, “Dragon and Phoenix Bringing Auspiciousness” sounds like a celebration — so we can’t let a happy event turn into a funeral.
With that line of thought, they looked around and quickly noticed something different: a female server had been crouched in a corner the whole time arranging flower baskets, and Su Er’s sharp eye had glimpsed something odd in one of the baskets.
Ji Heng and Wan Yi moved over together.
The female server kept her head down. When people approached, she suddenly struck — the paper cutter in her hand turned real. Ji Heng dealt with her while Wan Yi grabbed the basket and pried it open. Inside were bottles of murky liquid.
They unscrewed a cap and poured a little onto the floor — it was corrosive.
The server was furious; she hadn’t even had her stage yet and now had been exposed. Determined to kill one person first, she charged.
Unfortunately for her, this wasn’t a soft target. After a few rounds, Ji Heng kicked her in the abdomen, slapped a talisman on her, and dragged her outside.
Su Er sighed: “The wind mourns at the icy Yi River; the hero goes, never to return.” (i.e., “A heroic send-off.”)
The “hero” in his line referred to the female server.
Not long after, Ji Heng returned — apparently having washed his hands — and was wiping them with a tissue.
“Let’s go,” he said to Su Er. “Maybe we can still make it to the mooncake-eating event in the east.”
Su Er: “You got a hint?”
No sooner had he asked than writing appeared on the rose the emcee had handed him earlier.
His rose had no readable clue; scanning the room he saw that everyone but Qiao Yue had a small line of text on their roses.
Su Er had passed the death-end scenario, and so not getting info was expected; seeing Qiao Yue without any words was strange. He chuckled: “What’s going on?”
Ji Heng: “The server asked at the end ‘How did you know?’ I read off a string of player names and said we discovered it together.”
Of course Ji Heng omitted Qiao Yue’s name.
Su Er gave a thumbs-up. “Savage.” Then he asked, “Is the server still alive?”
Ji Heng nodded. “Half alive.”
In plain terms, these were hired monster actors — not worth killing outright.
As they went downstairs, Ji Heng didn’t volunteer the clue he’d acquired. Su Er noticed that ever since they’d returned from the mirror world, Ji Heng had been intentionally withholding some things.
He couldn’t help stopping: “You’re not going to bring me in this death-end scenario.”
A very confident tone.
Ji Heng’s eyes darkened.
Su Er: “Why?”
Before Ji Heng could answer, he continued himself: “Because you don’t want me taking risks? Do you think you’re some great savior?”
“The situation is complicated.” Ji Heng’s face was stern. “At least with the intel we have now, I’ll already be struggling in the death-end scenario.”
Su Er was about to argue when Ji Heng cut him off, voice heavy: “With your current strength, if you run into a fierce ghost alone, it’ll be a huge problem.”
Quarreling was pointless.
If Ji Heng insisted on not using the team-up item, there was nothing Su Er could do.
A thought struck Su Er: “Let’s make a bet. If I can greatly increase my ability to protect myself, you’ll agree to enter the death-end scenario together.”
Ji Heng: “In such a short time…”
Su Er interrupted: “Just answer — yes or no?”
Ji Heng looked at him, then finally gave a small nod.
“Good.” Su Er left him with a line: “I trust you’ll keep your word.”
With that, he turned to leave.
Ji Heng followed behind, but Su Er spun back, face expressionless: “You go do the task in the east of the city. I have other plans.”
Ji Heng chuckled: “Don’t act on impulse.”
By now Wan Yi, Yi Zhu, and the others had also come out from the hall. Seeing the two of them arguing at the door — and catching snatches of the conversation — they hurried over to smooth things out.
Wan Yi: “He’s only thinking for your sake.”
Su Er folded his arms and deliberately lifted his chin: “Just wait. After tonight, I’ll be someone he can’t even reach.”
“......”a
By the time they snapped out of it, he was already gone. Wan Yi couldn’t help laughing: “Like a little tiger with its fur all puffed up.”
Still one that hadn’t been weaned, at that.
Ji Heng sighed. He had to admit, the description was spot on.
Back at the hotel, under the rabbit waiter’s guidance, Su Er found Green Lotus Sage.
“I want to see Gou Baopu.”
Green Lotus Sage was obsessed with health routines; he had just finished a set of tai chi. Smiling, he said: “Didn’t you just go directly last time?”
Su Er: “That time I had no choice — I paid toll money as an exchange. If I disappear from the instance without a word again, it would be disrespectful to you.”
Green Lotus Sage unhurriedly began making tea. “Or is it that you’re worried about running into someone you don’t want to see?”
Su Er’s straight-laced mask cracked — he gave an awkward smile.
Truth exposed.
He was scared — worried about bumping into Zhou Linjun.
Green Lotus Sage finished the tea and poured him a cup too, cheerfully agreeing.
The whole process went so smoothly that Su Er felt it was almost unreal.
Green Lotus Sage said calmly: “Other players come here seeking hope. You, it’s like a vacation. No reason I shouldn’t grant a reasonable request.”
As he spoke, he walked over and switched on the room’s projector — it directly connected a video call.
Su Er took a deep breath, suppressing his inner confusion for now.
On the other side, in a luxurious office, people bustled about. Gou Baopu smiled without warmth. “Excuse the mess — renovations.”
Su Er guessed the reason and probed: “The Ghost King…”
“Gone.” Gou Baopu didn’t question why Green Lotus Sage had enabled the call. He glanced at his watch. “My time is precious.”
Su Er got straight to the point: “I’ve got a big deal. You take eighty, I take twenty.”
Gou Baopu sat straighter, composed: “Let’s hear it.”
Su Er gestured toward Green Lotus Sage: “I’d like him to bear witness.”
“Afraid I won’t honor my word?”
Su Er: “What I’m selling is an idea — not a common trade.”
Gou Baopu looked to Green Lotus Sage. “And you’re willing?”
Green Lotus Sage, happy to watch the show, nodded.
“Fine.” Gou Baopu said evenly: “If you can make me a huge profit, eighty-twenty split.”
He was taking the lion’s share anyway.
Su Er let out a breath of relief and spoke slowly: “It’s common knowledge — every instance I enter ends up wrecked. Hosts and ghosts alike, none escape.”
The corner of Gou Baopu’s mouth twitched… It was true.
Su Er asked softly: “Interested in starting an insurance business?”
Gou Baopu was stunned, then his eyes lit up, instantly catching on: “Use you as the selling point — any ghost or host who insures ahead of time, if they suffer disaster in an instance, they get compensation?”
Su Er nodded. “Some time ago, thousands of ghosts lost their jobs because of me. Suppose they had bought insurance—then they wouldn’t have to worry about finding work now.”
After a brief silence, Gou Baopu clapped his hands in admiration. “What a calculation! This way, for the sake of compensation, a fierce ghost might even take the initiative to let you ruin them. Wouldn’t that mean in the future there’ll be a flood of insurance fraud?”
Su Er smiled faintly. “Let them cheat. And we must pay out a massive compensation.”
There were countless ghosts in the game. Shaving a little wool off each sheep would amount to an astronomical figure. Compensation would only be a drop in the ocean. As long as the first payout was made, it would double as a powerful advertisement.
What Su Er thought of, Gou Baopu thought through even deeper. Now that Su Er was already “notoriously infamous” among hosts, different tiers of compensation could be set up. Hosts, being high-risk individuals, would have to pay much higher premiums than ordinary ghosts.
Even so, plenty would still buy in.
Green Lotus Sage had been leisurely sipping tea by the side, but upon hearing this argument, he nearly spat out a mouthful.
Based on the current number of ghosts and hosts in the game… if this business really took off, these two would without a doubt become the richest and second richest of them all.
His gaze grew complicated. Thinking of so many monsters still working hard at their jobs, and hosts laboring diligently in their duties, only to suddenly find themselves living worse than a mere player—
What a tragic story, one to make the listener grieve and the onlooker weep!
Su Er said, “Oh right, please help me contact Zhou Linjun. Tell him I’m willing to cooperate in dissolving the ghost marriage, as long as he gives me two items.”
Hard-earned money in the future must not end up making a wedding dress for someone else.
Gou Baopu had now truly witnessed how terrifying it was when a human turned utterly black-hearted.
“You’re not afraid of thoroughly offending the Ghost King?”
Su Er shook his head. “Later, when I’ve made my fortune, I’ll send him a huge amount of yin energy unconditionally. After all, he accidentally lent me a hand this morning.”
Hit someone once and then give them a date—it invites resentment. But hit them ten times and then give them a date—they just might feel flattered.
This was nothing less than contemptible workplace gaslighting.
----------
No comments:
Post a Comment