Zhao Lan, Zhou Xiao Zhen, and Tang Xing Yin delved deep, uncovering secrets of the villagers like chattering magpies. The mystery deepened with each whisper and rumour that was unearthed. The people looked to be connected to the temple by an invisible but unbreakable thread: almost everyone had a loved one trapped in its web of great devotion.

    They weren’t your ordinary converts, however. The temple’s appeal attracted men and women, sceptics and believers, cobblers and candlestick makers, regardless of social rank or prior convictions. They went from bargaining over cabbages to almost adoring the temple steps, chanting scriptures with a passion that bordered on insane.

    Crouched by the brook, Zhao Lan tried a different approach. A elderly woman scrubbed laundry beside her, humming a tuneless melody.

    “Madam,” Zhao Lan began, “that young lady who became a disciple, isn’t she your neighbour?” Do you know how one can join their ranks?

    The woman stopped humming and gave Zhao Lan a withering look. “If I knew that, love, do you think I would be spending my afternoon with a tub of dirty laundry?”

    Zhao Lan, temporarily defeated by the woman’s immaculate logic, turned to her companions for help. Tang Xing Yin, on the other hand, was already halfway across the courtyard, his back showing disinterest.

    “Alright, I’ve got it,” Zhou Xiao Zhen said, snapping her fingers.

    Zhao Lan grasped Zhou Xiao Zhen’s arm and drew her closer to Tang Xing Yin, casting a watchful look at the still-irate laundry lady. “Spill it then.”

    “We might not be devoted believers,” Zhou Xiao Zhen added, dropping her voice, “but many others are. We just need to… borrow one. Force them to tell how to meet with Master Zhang.”

    For the first time that afternoon, Tang Xing Yin appeared to be impressed. He nodded curtly at Zhou Xiao Zhen and hurried towards the temple.

    The formerly deserted courtyard was now bustling with survivors of the earlier mayhem. They swarmed like ants and sifted through the rubble. Up ahead, Yu Qing Lang and Wang Dong Dong sat beneath a tree, their expressions grave.

    Yu Qing Lang spotted them and extended a weary hand in greeting. Tang Xing Yin, as usual, disregarded her.

    Zhou Xiao Zhen, on the other hand, approached them enthusiastically, a big grin spreading across her face. “Sister Qing Lang! What a coincidence.”

    “Coincidence?” Yu Qing Lang repeated, her tone devoid of emotion. “Is this fate’s cruel joke? Please inform me that you have news, my dear. Useful news.”

    After a brief glance around, Zhou Xiao Zhen leaned in. She said, “We’re going to abduct a believer. Make them reveal how to reach Master Zhang.”

    The expressions on Yu Qing Lang and Wang Dong Dong’s faces were not what Zhou Xiao Zhen had hoped for.

    “What’s the problem?” Zhou Xiao Zhen asked, squinting at them. “You two look like you just swallowed a sour plum.”

    Wang Dong Dong’s lips twitched. “It’s not that we disagree,” he said, “it’s just… we had that brainwave hours ago. We interrogated the believers extensively.” He flung his arms wide. “But it led us nowhere.”

    “Nowhere?” Zhao Lan scoffed. “How dramatic. Are they being stubborn? Maybe we need to use some function cards to persuade them?”

    “They’re practically begging to spill their guts,” Wang Dong Dong said, frustration creeping into his voice. “The problem is, it’s like their brains went on vacation.”

    “Their brains are scrambled,” Yu Qing Lang interjected bluntly. “When we ask them how they found this Immortal Zhang, they all parrot the same phrase.”

    “And that is?” Zhao Lan asked, leaning in.

    Yu Qing Lang rolled her eyes and mockingly clasped her hands together. “‘The Immortal is omnipresent.’”

    Zhou Xiao Zhen was shocked. “Is this guy serious or did he steal his lines from a cheesy TV drama?”

    Yu Qing Lang sighed wearily and leaned against a tree root, absentmindedly picking at the grass. “Yu Xiao dragged us here for a ghost-hunting adventure. Not only have we not encountered any ghosts, but we haven’t even found a single useful clue.”

    “I fought one,” Tang Xing Yin finally spoke up.

    The others stared at him.

    “I fought Qu Lian.” His expression remained as blank as a sheet of paper.

    A moment of silence passed.

    “Yes, well,” Yu Qing Lang sighed once more, “it’s precisely because you fought Qu Lian that most people haven’t seen a single spectral whisker.”

    Zhao Lan watched as the followers meticulously cleared the temple ruins with their bare hands. Their faces were serene, undisturbed by the impracticality of their cumbersome robes or the sheer drudgery of the task. They moved with a quiet purpose, radiating an almost unnatural serenity, the epitome of devout believers.

    However, something felt off. Zhao Lan had seen true faith before. She wasn’t religious herself, but her travels had exposed her to a multitude of beliefs, and she had encountered her fair share of genuine devotees.

    She recalled a trip to Mount Jiuhua with friends, where she had witnessed a Tibetan woman making the ascent from the foot of the mountain, prostrating herself every three steps. On the descent, Zhao Lan had spotted the woman again and, struck by her earlier devotion, lingered to observe. The woman, surely a paragon of piety, drank water, rested, and smiled. She didn’t ignore those who spoke to her.

    These followers were different. They felt… empty.

    Then again, this was an instance, not the real world. With a thoughtful frown, Zhao Lan headed towards the group.

    “Where are you going?” Zhou Xiao Zhen called after her.

    Zhao Lan stopped beside one of the followers. “I want to be as devout as you. How do I achieve that?”

    The follower’s gaze, vacant and unfocused, settled on her. “You resist our Lord. You are not one of his flock.”

    Resist? When had she resisted? She caught the follower’s sleeve as he turned away. “I don’t resist. Tell me what to do.”

    He stared at her for a moment, then gestured towards the rubble of the collapsed temple. “Go there. Look within. Find your true self.”

    Zhao Lan followed his direction. It was the same spot where the followers had been praying earlier. Stepping over the debris, she felt nothing out of the ordinary. She knelt down, mimicking their posture, and closed her eyes. Nothing. Then, the follower’s words echoed in her mind: she had resisted.

    No resistance. Zhao Lan focused on relaxing her body, emptying her mind, letting go of all resistance…

    And then, fragmented images flashed before her eyes.

    A gasp escaped her lips.

    And then, there was only darkness.

    **

    The afternoon sun beat down on Zhao Lan as she arrived at the school gates, sandwiched between her mother and a whining younger brother.

    Seven-year-old Zhao Lan tugged at her mother’s sleeve. “Mum, this isn’t right.”

    Her mother, struggling to open a sticky sweet in her brother’s hand, frowned. “What do you mean, wrong place? This is a school, isn’t it?”

    “It’s the wrong school,” Zhao Lan insisted, pulling on her mother’s sleeve with the determination of a skilled lawyer presenting an airtight case. “I’m in Year One now! This is the kindergarten!”

    “And what’s so special about Year One?” her mother retorted, clearly not comprehending the significant shift in social status that accompanied moving from finger painting to actual numbers. “Your brother is starting kindergarten this year. You can just stay back and look after him.”

    Tears welled up in Zhao Lan’s eyes. Another year in kindergarten meant being separated from her friends, with whom she had made solemn promises of everlasting classroom camaraderie. But did anyone care about her emotional turmoil? No. Her mother was too preoccupied with making sure her brother didn’t starve to death before even reaching the snack table, and her brother, naturally, was solely focused on the imminent sugar rush.

    …

    Fast forward to secondary school, and Zhao Lan was essentially Hermione Granger, but without the unruly hair and questionable taste in boys. She excelled academically, ranking at the top of her class. However, she often found herself sitting in front of the school’s most popular boy. While they rarely spoke, she couldn’t help but dream.

    Then, one day, it happened. He turned around, a pink envelope clutched in his hand, and Zhao Lan’s heart did a little tap dance. Adjusting her glasses, she leaned in, eager to hear whatever earth-shattering confession he was about to whisper.

    “Could you pass this to the person behind you?” he asked, flashing a smile that could charm anyone (or at least get him out of detention for a week). “As a thank you, I’ll buy you a bottle of water.”

    Who needs a clichéd love letter when you can have… hydration?

    …

    Years later, Zhao Lan, now a freshly minted graduate navigating the shark-infested waters of the working world, stumbled back to her tiny, overpriced rental flat, desperate for a hot bath and a solid eight hours of sleep (ha! who was she kidding? Five would do). But alas, fate, it seemed, had other plans. The water heater was broken.

    Predictably, her landlord proved to be as sympathetic as a cactus. “Not my concern,” he practically sang through the telephone. “Consider yourself lucky that I’m not charging you for a replacement.”

    Defeated, Zhao Lan slumped onto her bed, which provided comfort akin to a pile of bricks concealed beneath a flimsy sheet.

    Just as she was on the verge of drifting into an agitated, dream-ridden slumber, her phone began to ring. Pulling herself back from the edge of unconsciousness, Zhao Lan forced a cheerful tone, determined to preserve the facade of having her life in order as she answered her mother’s call.  Sёar?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

    After exchanging the usual pleasantries, her mother nonchalantly delivered a bombshell. Could Zhao Lan spare some money? Her brother wanted to buy a house.

    **

    “She’s crying,” whispered Zhou Xiao Zhen, as she crouched beside the motionless figure of Zhao Lan. “Should we wake her up?”

    Kneeling down and furrowing his brows, Tang Xing Yin closed his eyes. He focused, attempting to sense…something. Anything. Yet, there was nothing. Why couldn’t he feel anything?

    “Don’t touch her just yet,” whispered Yu Qing Lang, her hand resting on Zhou Xiao Zhen’s arm. “We’re so close. Don’t jeopardise everything now.”

    Zhou Xiao Zhen sighed, her worried gaze fixed on the motionless figure of Zhao Lan.

    **

    At the age of twenty-eight, life had dealt Misty a harsh blow. Just as her career was taking off, cancer had struck her down, leaving her confined to a sterile hospital bed. The chemotherapy had taken a toll on her body, leaving her weak and bald. Her own mother, torn between her two children, could only manage fleeting visits between chores and cooking for Zhao Lan’s perpetually unemployed brother.

    “Why?” whispered Zhao Lan, her voice broken. “Why me? I worked so hard, built everything from scratch. What good is my brother, all grown up yet incapable of holding down a job?”

    Her thoughts spiralled, a whirlwind of bitterness and despair. Why was her score in the instance so abysmal? Why was Yu Xiao, her supposed teammate, already nearing completion? Weren’t they in this together? The sale of talismans was supposed to earn them equal points.

    It wasn’t fair. Why did everyone else have it so easy, with good fortune on their side?

    Unbeknownst to Zhao Lan, a shadow materialised around her, whispering insidious suggestions. Kill Yu Xiao. Take her points. Escape this prison-like hospital, reclaim your life, your health, your future.

    Zhao Lan tried to resist, but the voice was relentless, a seductive melody in the darkness. Don’t resist, it cooed. Don’t resist…

    She vaguely remembered that she must not resist, must not resist…

    …

    “Does it hurt?”

    “Do you feel resentment?”

    Zhao Lan’s head snapped up. Before her stood a figure shrouded in red robes, holding a staff, his head bowed, his face a mask of sorrow.

    “A mother’s love, a family’s support, a healthy body, freedom…all stolen from you by those who deserved it less.”

    Tears streamed down her face as she sobbed uncontrollably. “What should I do?” she choked out, the shadows closing in.

    “Get rid of the annoyences.”

    Zhao Lan recoiled. “No…” It felt so wrong.

    The red-robed figure enveloped her in a gentle embrace, his voice a silky whisper. “Don’t be burdened by guilt. You’ve already shown remarkable restraint. This is simply reclaiming what is rightfully yours. It’s only fair…”

    **

    “Jealousy,” Gluttony hissed, his eyes narrowed to slits. “So, he has finally graced us with his presence.”

    “Jealousy?” Yu Xiao echoed, bewildered. “Like, a ghost?”

    Gu Shu shot Gluttony a withering look. “Jealousy is exactly that – jealousy. Just as Gluttony,” he emphasised pointedly, “is gluttony.”

    Yu Xiao frowned, her mind racing. Ghosts were one thing, but this realm seemed to be teeming with other… entities. Nightmare. Gluttony. And now, Jealousy.

    The Thunder Talisman hadn’t worked on Nightmare, and he hadn’t shown the slightest interest in devouring anyone. So, he clearly wasn’t a ghost. Was Jealousy cut from the same cloth as Nightmare and Gluttony then?

    But they weren’t invincible, were they? Nightmare had been wounded, and Gluttony… well, he’d gotten into that rather messy brawl with the doctors.

    “Is he… strong?” Yu Xiao gestured towards Gluttony. “Stronger than, uh, him?”

    Gluttony bristled, about to unleash a scathing retort, but Gu Shu cut him off. “Strength is irrelevant. The real challenge with Jealousy is finding him in the first place.”

    “Why is that?” Yu Xiao asked, thoroughly confused.

    Lolita spoke for the first time, her voice chillingly calm. “Because Jealousy lives in the hearts of humans.”

    *Cryptic*, Yu Xiao thought, but she got the gist. Another question popped into her mind. “If that’s the case, how did you find him?”

    “We didn’t,” Gu Shu replied flatly. “We were looking for Qu Lian, not him.”

    “Eh?” Yu Xiao exclaimed. “Then why on earth is he helping you?”

    Gu Shu raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly has he done to assist us?”

    Yu Xiao was overcome with anger. The attending doctor of the instance was unaware of Nightmare’s constant presence – he wasn’t part of their plan. But Jealousy had stopped him, hadn’t he? Did that mean he was actively choosing to support Gu Shu and the others?

    Rage simmered within her. *I haven’t done anything to you, and yet you dare to meddle in my affairs?*

    The thought was unbearable. Letting this slide would be a slap in the face, not just to her, but to Gu Shu and Lolita as well.

    “Is there truly no way to deal with him?” She fixed Gluttony with a furious glare. “Is he stronger than you? Invincible, even?”

    Gluttony remained silent, though her barbs hit their mark. He couldn’t help feeling jealousy twisting inside him. Why should Jealousy get to wander around freely, while he was stuck down here, forced to feast on decaying flesh?

    Jealousy had, it seemed, done his job well.

    “If he won’t reveal himself,” Gluttony finally ground out, his face filled with bitterness, “can’t you lure him out? Tempt him with something he desires.”

    Yu Xiao frowned. The problem was, she might not possess what he craved. “And what does he need?”

    “He sees himself as a god now, doesn’t he?” Gluttony’s lips formed a humourless smile. “And what does a god desire more than anything? Worshippers, of course.”

    **

    Zhao Lan’s eyes fluttered open, tears glistening in them.

    “She’s awake!” Zhou Xiao Zhen exclaimed, her voice filled with relief. “Misty’s awake!”

    “How do you feel?” Yu Qing Lang asked, leaning closer, her gaze fixed on Zhao Lan. “What happened?”

    Zhao Lan appeared disoriented for a moment, then took a shaky breath. Her hand trembled as she raised it, revealing an open palm.

    In her hand, there was a tiny glass bottle, seemingly empty. Zhou Xiao Zhen gently shook it, and the faint sound of water sloshing reached their ears.

    “What is it?” she asked, frowning in confusion.

    “Poison,” Zhao Lan whispered, her eyes fixed on the bottle as sunlight streamed through the glass, creating a myriad of tiny rainbows.

    “Jealousy…” Zhao Lan whispered, feeling a shiver creep down her spine. “I understand now…”

    “Misty, love, what’s wrong?” Zhou Xiao Zhen asked, helping her up from the ground. “You look so strange.”

    Before she could respond, a familiar voice cut through the air. “Misty! Precious!”

    They turned to see Yu Xiao approaching them, with a bag slung over her shoulder. Standing beside her were a man and a woman they recognised.

    “Blimey! It’s Lolita!”

    “Well, bugger me, Gu Shu?!”

    Tang Xing Yin frowned. “Are those two the doctors, then?”

    Gu Shu and Lolita stood on either side of Yu Xiao like loyal guard dogs. As they came closer, Yu Xiao noticed Zhao Lan’s tear-stained face, her eyes red and swollen.

    “Who’s been upsetting our Misty?” she demanded, her brow furrowing with concern.

    Zhao Lan quickly wiped away her tears, not bothering to ask where Yu Xiao had been. There were more important matters to address.

    “I’ve found the solution,” she said, her voice resolute despite the trembling in her chest. “We can escape from this instance.”

    “Hold your horses,” Yu Xiao grinned, placing a hand on Lolita’s shoulder. “There’s something we need to do first.”

    ─── ? ── ☆ ── ? ───

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