Chapter 81: Folklore Horror (11)
They followed Fatty back into the temple.
Inside, over half of the red candles were still burning. The smoke from the incense coils curled upward behind the flickering flames, filling the entire temple with a pungent, choking scent that made the air hard to breathe.
Fatty didn’t beat around the bush. He walked straight up to the murals and said, “There’s a mechanism here. Hundreds of years ago, people used this kind of mechanism technique. I studied it a little back then. This kind of device usually uses riveted joints to create hidden rooms, but in this temple, it seems it’s not meant for secret rooms—it’s for moving walls.”
As he spoke, he tried to push the wall.
It didn’t budge.
He turned to Jian Yuntai, raising his voice: “What are you standing there for? Come help!”
Jian Yuntai replied flatly, “I can’t push it either.”
Fatty frowned, disbelief written all over his face. “Are you joking with me? You’re usually strong, and now when it counts, you just say you can’t push it?”
“……”
But Jian Yuntai truly couldn’t push it. He had already tried before leaving the temple. It wasn’t that he had discovered the riveted structure—he was just habitually tapping and knocking, looking for clues.
With his light injury buff weighing him down, he simply didn’t have any strength—he was even short of breath walking, let alone trying to push a wall.
He and Fatty exchanged glances, neither saying a word.
Fatty’s expression soured as he realized the problem in this stage. He seemed tempted to try himself but hesitated, weighing something in his mind.
Finally, Fuzhu stepped forward. His pale white hand touched the mural, and with a gentle push of his fingertips, the wall seemed to come alive. Crack! Crack! It began to rotate backward.
Jian Yuntai quickly took several steps back to avoid being hit by the swinging wall.
Only now did he understand why the temple’s interior was so sparsely furnished—if too many large objects had been placed inside, the rotating walls would have jammed halfway.
Fuzhu pushed the other wall open as well. Once finished, he walked over to Jian Yuntai and fixed him with a steady gaze.
Jian Yuntai frowned. “Hmm?”
Fuzhu: “………”
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Jian Yuntai asked, puzzled.
“……“
Fuzhu pressed his lips together, then finally turned away, his fox ears drooping subtly like airplane wings.
Jian Yuntai glanced at Fuzhu’s back, still confused, but the livestream viewers had already started yelling:
“Ahhhhhhh, here comes the moment I hate that Jian Dadan is such a blockhead! The little fox clearly wants you to praise him!”
“Jian Dadan’s personality is so straight-forward; if he weren’t good-looking, he’d probably be single for life hhhhhhh”
“I think Jian Yuntai really isn’t suited for romance. He’s too blunt and career-focused. He should rent a hotel, secretly give me his contact info—I love forcing people who aren’t suited for love to feel flustered (doge)”
“Sister, your heart is evil! At first, I thought you were annoyed by wife’s bluntness, but now your ambition shows!”
“Include me in the contact info, I’m craving wife’s □□.”
“I’m craving wife’s soul, hehe~”
“Hahaha, I screenshotted everyone in the chat who isn’t wearing pants. Wife has already opened Weibo. Tomorrow I’ll DM the screenshots to him and let him come teach you a lesson.”
Fatty picked up a branch that players had left on the floor and swept the dust off the walls.
The back of the wall was even dustier than the front. With just a light sweep of the branch, the temple filled with swirling dust.
Jian Yuntai covered his nose and waved his hand to clear the dust, squinting to see the mural.
“This is the third mural,” Fatty said, tilting his head back. He seemed completely unaware of the dust swirling around him, staring wide-eyed at the wall.
The third mural depicted the Goddess’ resurrection.
Like a phoenix reborn from flames, the Goddess struggled unwillingly in the fire. Her eyes were filled with memories of the citizens who had once paid tribute to her and of her royal family.
The flames consumed her clothes, her hair, everything about her.
Then came a long, painful darkness.
After her death, a massive calamity struck.
The kingdom fell, yet the land remained, and though the dynasty was gone, the people endured. Slowly, more of the “mob” began spreading new beliefs—after burning the Goddess, they had angered heaven.
In panic, the people spontaneously built temples, starting a new cycle of tribute.
The Goddess, moved by divine grace and further tributes, was reborn, like a phoenix rising from the ashes. On the day she resurrected, droughts and floods ceased, the land was safe.
Those who had burned her were not the same as those paying tribute now. The Goddess did not vent her wrath on the innocent people; she was willing to protect them once more.
“Foolish,” Jian Yuntai said briefly after staring at the mural for a long time.
Fatty smiled. “Yes, very foolish.”
They moved to the other wall. After rotating the wall open, the final mural came into view.
This mural was far grander than the previous three. At first glance, the image revealed nothing concrete—just gray and orange light swirling, with orange glows leaking through clouds, illuminating a desolate land.
“What is this painting showing?” Jian Yuntai asked Fatty.
Fatty replied, “Look at the inscription at the bottom.”
—Goddess continues her nine lives.
Jian Yuntai’s classical Chinese was not strong. He had guessed at the meanings of the previous murals, but this one’s inscription was written as obscurely as a ghost. Even after staring for a long time, he couldn’t understand it.
He turned to Fatty. “I can’t read the text either.”
“
…” Fatty asked, “Are you doing this on purpose?”
Jian Yuntai said plainly, “If you don’t explain, I’m leaving.”
He made a move to turn away, but Fatty grabbed him. His eyes betrayed panic, pleading: “Don’t go! Don’t go! I was about to explain it to you!”
The livestream viewers couldn’t hold back their laughter, all bursting out at once:
“Jian Dadan really is the mortal nemesis of all sorts of demons. Even though he didn’t realize Fatty was fake, he still handled that demon so smoothly—he should totally tell us what was going through his mind.”
“I’ve always wondered why in movies the villain big bosses babble on and on before the hero kills them. Now I get it—this is just venting complaints.”
“Hahaha, Jian Dadan: hates listening to people babble.”
“Have you guys already accepted that fake Fatty is the big boss? I feel like the Mother Goddess isn’t really the boss yet. If fake Fatty is the Mother Goddess, her rank is way too low—definitely below a C-level instance. Most likely… the big boss of this instance is Fuzhu! Don’t forget the grudge over the demon core!”
“Damn, sister, if you hadn’t said it, I’d have totally forgotten.”
It wasn’t until this moment that viewers noticed a crucial detail—a C-level instance, like the King of Hell’s Wedding, had a difficulty almost off the charts.
Other folklore-horror instances of C-level rank had only resulted in people disappearing. From the empty-screen shots in Fatty’s livestream, it seemed the missing players weren’t dead, only unconscious.
Clearly, this shouldn’t be considered C-level difficulty.
If the Mother Goddess didn’t qualify as the big boss, then the only remaining thing in this instance that could pose a real threat to the players was… their own contract demon beasts.
Everyone’s eyes nervously flicked to Fuzhu on screen. The grudge over the demon core hung over everything like the Sword of Damocles—forever suspended, never landing.
Jian Yuntai didn’t know why the viewers were anxious. He merely narrowed his eyes slightly, curling his lips into a small smile as he looked at Fatty.
Under his direct gaze, Fatty gave an awkward smile and forced himself to speak.
The fourth mural depicted the Goddess continuing her nine lives.
After surviving the torture of the blazing fire, the Goddess tried with all her might to protect the people.
But the world could never remain safe forever.
Disasters kept occurring—locusts crossing the fields, landslides, tsunamis… Often, these were short-lived, sudden catastrophes.
Yet the people increasingly blamed the Goddess—“We built so many temples for you, offering our sincerest devotion! Why do disasters still keep happening?”
The Goddess, fearing that past misfortunes might strike her again, built nine temples across the empire and erected nine statues. She had been revived by divine grace, so she divided this grace into nine portions, infusing each statue.
Building nine statues represented the Goddess continuing her nine lives.
As long as the statues stood, she would be immortal.
Later, however, her worst fears came true. People’s complaints escalated into rage, and all the grief and frustration caused by natural disasters poured onto the Goddess.
“If you no longer protect us, what reason do you have to exist?!”
One temple after another rose—and then fell.
The countless temples originally built by the people were destroyed by the people themselves.
In panic, the Goddess rescued the nine statues and hid them in a secret place.
Facing these nine once-glorious statues, the Goddess finally regained clarity. In that instant, her blood ran cold, and darkness clouded her vision.
—She saved the world, but who would save her?
With that, the four murals were complete.
“She saved the world, but who will save her…” Fatty murmured, his gaze trembling as he looked at Jian Yuntai. “Who will save her?”
“…..” Jian Yuntai frowned. “So the Goddess poured her resentment onto other women?”
Fatty stared at him for a long moment before finally withdrawing his gaze, disappointed. “You didn’t understand the murals.”
Jian Yuntai raised an eyebrow, about to respond, when Fatty suddenly gave a strange laugh, his sharply contrasted black-and-white eyes glinting with menace: “Have you never wondered why the young men in Mother Goddess Village went missing too?”
“…What are you trying to say?” Jian Yuntai furrowed his brow further. He felt like he’d overlooked something important.
His mind swirled in a fog. Missing that detail, the instance’s progression veered completely opposite to reality, and that was dangerous.
The temple fell into silence.
By the time they had finished viewing the two murals, darkness had already fallen outside, pitch black as though one couldn’t see a hand in front of their face. Inside the temple, candlelight cast slanted shadows, and a chilling, low atmosphere crept upward.
Most of the candles were still burning.
Before the viewers in the livestream could even react, Fatty suddenly sprang forward, charging toward the candelabrum!
“!!!” The livestream chat froze for a moment.
No one had expected him to act so suddenly—but Jian Yuntai, as if seeing with a sixth sense, stepped lightly to intercept, standing directly in front of the candelabrum to shield it.
Bang—
Jian Yuntai was pushed back several steps, his tailbone striking the candelabrum, and all the red candles toppled instantly. Yet he didn’t even glance back, instead using his hands to steady the candelabrum, holding it firmly in place.
Finally, he looked at Fatty, who had also retreated a few steps, shock written all over her face—no, now she should be called the Mother Goddess.
The Mother Goddess fell to the ground, stunned, and looked at Jian Yuntai. “H-how did you react so fast?!”
Jian Yuntai chuckled lightly. “I wasn’t reacting fast. I’ve just been on guard the whole time, waiting for you.”
“…” The Mother Goddess was once again shocked. “You knew I wasn’t your friend all along?” Her expression stiffened. She asked blankly, “When did you know?”
“Since Deng Ran,” Jian Yuntai said casually. “On the day Xiao Liuliu went missing, Deng Ran was fine. I thought it was strange. Later I realized Deng Ran’s contract demon was a tiger. Her tiger… was it dead?”
From the day of the Mother Goddess festival onward, Deng Ran’s contract demon had disappeared, and she hadn’t said a word.
Jian Yuntai didn’t know Deng Ran very well, but he had a mind and logic of his own. That made it easy for him to spot the holes in her behavior.
The Mother Goddess couldn’t believe it, eyes wide, and asked in surprise, “You knew all along that I wasn’t Deng Ran—why didn’t you expose me?”
Jian Yuntai gave her a strange look. “Why would I expose you? If you hadn’t walked right into my trap, how could I have saved Nong Lingling?”
The viewers in the livestream were dumbfounded. So Jian Yuntai had known all along? He had realized Deng Ran had been replaced the moment it happened!
At that moment, the audience felt as if their brains were being repeatedly stomped into the ground—they could only whimper in front of the screen.
“We were worried about Wife before… and it turns out we were worrying for nothing! He’s really incredible (facepalm).”
“Honestly, I found it strange before. With Jian Dadan’s personality, there’s no way he would say ‘I don’t care about Fatty’ when in danger. But… I really didn’t expect he was fishing!”
“And he’s fishing for the Mother Goddess herself. That makes it even stranger. The Mother Goddess is completely tangled in Jian Dadan’s scheme. Compared to the King of Hell’s Wedding instance, this boss feels… underwhelming.”
“A C-level instance should never be this easy… Jian Dadan, you absolutely cannot be careless ahhh!”
On the other side, the Mother Goddess fell silent for a moment, then let out a mocking laugh. “You’re so smart, yet you can’t even understand the murals.”
As her words fell, her body began to change. Her limbs cracked with a sound that made the scalp tingle—she transformed into a paper bride!
On the day of the festival when the statue was carried, a red sedan chair had been raised opposite the statue. The paper bride’s features had only been roughly outlined in black and red ink.
Now it was the same.
Jian Yuntai lowered his eyes at the Mother Goddess, quietly shielding the candelabrum behind him.
The spark must not be extinguished; if it is, retreat is certain.
Although he didn’t know what would happen if the red candles were extinguished, it was easy to imagine it would be disadvantageous.
So when the Mother Goddess lunged again, Jian Yuntai’s expression remained solemn, his feet unmoving.
He was preparing to withstand the attack—
When Fuzhu suddenly moved. Cold eyes sharp, he stepped forward quickly, swinging his fluffy fox tail with force. The Mother Goddess was sent flying, crashing into the temple door.
How could she be so weak?
Jian Yuntai didn’t feel relieved. Instead, his heart sank.
Too weak. The Mother Goddess was far too weak.
This shouldn’t be the boss of a C-level instance.
He recalled the murals again… which detail had he overlooked?
What was truly lethal in this instance?
As Jian Yuntai pondered, a sharp, overpowering scent of blood reached his nose.
Where was that blood coming from?
Under the light-injury buff, Jian Yuntai’s reactions were much slower than usual. He looked outside the temple: Fuzhu had grabbed the Mother Goddess with one hand, tearing off one of her paper hands.
“Ahhhhh! Ahhhhh!” the Mother Goddess screamed.
“Her divine grace will allow me to gain even greater power,” Fuzhu said cheerfully, but the moment his eyes touched Jian Yuntai, the joy in them was instantly shattered.
The feeling of happiness receded like a tide.
Facing Fuzhu’s shocked and confused gaze, Jian Yuntai’s legs suddenly gave way, and he collapsed heavily to the ground with a thud.
Splat—
Crimson blood stained the floor, a shocking sight.
Jian Yuntai stared at the blood before him and finally realized where the overwhelming scent of blood had come from.
It was his own blood.
Light injury buff—
The stronger the contract demon, the weaker the demon hunter became. Eventually, he could no longer suppress the demon core. The grudge over the demon core would resurface.
Fuzhu quickly released the Mother Goddess and rushed forward. As he crouched down, his hand hovered in the air, trembling slightly.
He was scared.
So scared that he didn’t dare touch Jian Yuntai casually.
Blood—so much blood.
Everywhere he looked, there was blood.
Humans could die from losing so much blood.
That thought hit Fuzhu like a lightning bolt, snapping him fully awake. His pupils shook violently. Rage surged in his eyes as he slowly turned to the Mother Goddess, his gaze terrifyingly red. His tone was bone-chilling.
“What did you do to him?”
The temple doors had been knocked over.
The dust that had just been swept from the murals now filled the air, and the entrance to the temple was nearly a ruin.
The Mother Goddess, her arm torn, lay amidst the debris, rolling in pain. She seemed to see a huge black cauldron drop heavily onto her head with a loud clang.
If her expression could have been made physical, it would have been full of suffocating question marks.
“???”
She hadn’t done anything just now… ahhh!
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