The scariest thing isn’t never seeing hope.
It’s seeing hope—only to lose it again.
Having once witnessed the True God, the Fated One could no longer wait another two hundred years.
He came to the temple gate every day, hoping for the God’s return, constantly replaying the words the true God had said. As time passed, doubt began to creep into his heart.
His only obsession was becoming a god. He needed to kill Chi You because Chi You would block his path to godhood. He didn’t care about fame—becoming a god always came with a good reputation anyway.
But what the True God said made sense.
He had deceived the world, and that was an original sin. If he couldn’t admit his wrongs, he might never ascend.
If Chi You hadn’t already been severely injured, the Fated One wouldn’t even consider admitting fault. But now, the only one who could kill him was either dead or incapacitated. Even if others found out they’d been deceived, they couldn’t do anything to him.
If admitting his sin could let him become a god—then perhaps… it wasn’t entirely unacceptable.
Just like he once said—no matter the price, even if he were to die the second after becoming a god, the Fated One would accept it willingly.
Day after day of waiting, the Fated One gradually made up his mind.
***
Overseas.
Chi You had consumed too many ghosts. Jiang Luo figured they couldn’t just drain one place dry, so they caught another flight to a well-known city of mediums in South America.
This city was famous for its strangeness. It housed the world’s largest witches’ market, where countless witches, astrologers, and fortune-tellers gathered to sell all sorts of bizarre items.
When Jiang Luo finally saw the witches’ market with his own eyes, he couldn’t help but be amazed.
Most of the shops were simple stalls, with merchants casually spreading a rug on the ground and laying out their wares on it—looking no different from humble street vendors.
It seemed noisy and ordinary at first glance, but one look at the goods on display made it clear that this was no ordinary market.
Dried camel fetuses, dried toad corpses, owl feathers, venomous snake fangs… Occasionally, there were even withered human-like fingers and various animal hearts.
Jiang Luo’s eyes were dazzled; in fact, he could see faint ghostly auras lingering on some of the items.
He leaned toward Chi You’s ear and asked, “See anything good?”
The malicious ghost looked around with interest and replied in a low voice near Jiang Luo’s ear as well, “Nope.”
“Keep your eyes open and look carefully,” Jiang Luo reminded. “It’d be best if we could score some hidden gems.”
Chi You scoffed at the idea of “scoring hidden gems” and echoed something Lu Youyi once said word for word: “Do I need to scavenge for deals? Darling, I have money. Lots of money.”
Jiang Luo: “…”
The witches’ market stretched down a long street. About halfway through their walk, the stalls gradually transitioned from selling goods to offering divinations.
As they passed by a black-hatted witch using a crystal ball, she suddenly called out to them: “Hey, you two Easterners.”
Jiang Luo thought she wasn’t calling them, but then she repeated in an aged voice: “The Eastern boy with long black hair.”
There were plenty of Easterners on this street, but Jiang Luo was the only one with long hair. His steps halted, and he narrowed his eyes, turning around.
The witch’s face was covered in wrinkles, her drooping eyelids obscuring half of her cloudy eyes. She stared fixedly at Jiang Luo, as if she saw some deep mystery in him she couldn’t unravel.
“I can give you a free reading,” the old witch said slowly. “Trust me, child. You really shouldn’t miss this opportunity.”
Jiang Luo considered himself someone who respected the elderly and loved the young. He walked lightly to the witch’s table and sat down. “What do you want to read for me?”
The old witch didn’t answer right away but looked at Chi You and said firmly, “He can’t stay by your side during the reading.”
Jiang Luo looked back with glee, “Chi You, you’ve been rejected.”
Chi You stood beside him with hands in his pockets, feigning helplessness. “Well, what can I do?”
The witch looked at Chi You, then at Jiang Luo, and said knowingly, “I only need twenty minutes with your partner.”
That line clearly flattered the malicious ghost. Chi You stepped aside and gave them space.
Jiang Luo cleared his throat. “Alright, go ahead.”
The witch, her age-spotted hands slowly rubbing the crystal ball, said, “Child, is there something you’ve always wanted to know but couldn’t find the answer to?”
Jiang Luo deflected, “Everyone has a question like that, don’t they?”
“But yours is different,” the witch said.
Jiang Luo gave a faint smile.
The old witch looked at him deeply. “I’ve been reading fortunes here for thirty years, and this is the first time I’ve met someone like you. I can’t see through your origins—but my crystal ball can. Don’t you want to know where you come from?”
The smile on Jiang Luo’s lips froze, and his eyes instantly turned cold. “What do you know?”
The witch lowered her head, focusing intently on the crystal ball. “Child, focus on the crystal ball and think of your question. If it works, you might get the answer you seek.”
Jiang Luo scrutinized the witch for a while before finally lowering his head and staring at the transparent crystal ball. He was skeptical, but still repeated the question in his mind over and over: Why did I come to this world?
When using a crystal ball for divination, one must not blink. Jiang Luo’s eyes grew dry and sore. After fifteen minutes, a cluster of white mist suddenly appeared inside the ball.
The mist gradually spread, filling the entire orb. Jiang Luo’s gaze sharpened. The next second, a blurry image formed within the fog.
The moment the image became clear, Jiang Luo’s pupils shrank sharply.
He saw himself before transmigrating, saw the familiar design institute, and a client sitting across from him discussing work.
The client was a man in his thirties, wearing a checkered shirt and black pants, ordinary-looking and a bit timid, mumbling through a long list of design requirements.
Jiang Luo found his face vaguely familiar.
Oh, he remembered now… It was a job another colleague had shoved onto him at the last minute—helping this client design a two-story detached villa. It wasn’t originally Jiang Luo’s assignment, and it was after work hours at the time. Though he had greeted the client with a smile, his expression had shown clear signs of impatience.
As the client droned on about detailed requirements, Jiang Luo had inevitably zoned out.
He had a bad habit: when multitasking, he would let people’s words go in one ear and out the other. So when he later produced the design for the client, although it looked stunning, it ended up missing some of the specific details the client had requested.
The client’s personality, to put it nicely, was mild; less nicely, cowardly. He was clearly dissatisfied with Jiang Luo’s design, but he keenly sensed Jiang Luo’s perfunctory attitude. Without saying a word, he took the design and silently went home.
Seeing this scene, Jiang Luo couldn’t help feeling puzzled. Why was he seeing this moment with this particular client? Was there more to the story?
As if the crystal ball knew what he was thinking, the image shifted again.
The client, who had spent tens of thousands on a design he didn’t like, grew more and more aggrieved after returning home. Eventually, he became so angry his eyes turned red. He downed two bottles of beer, opened his computer, and vented to a friend, cursing Jiang Luo’s design firm and Jiang Luo himself. In the end, sobbing, he pounded the keyboard furiously: [That fake and deceitful designer—when I first saw him, I even thought he looked like a kind and gentle person. He’s too good at pretending, so hypocritical!]
[I’m still so pissed. I’m going to write a dog-blood revenge novel and make him cannon fodder. I’ll torture him in my book just to vent!!!]
Three giant exclamation points floated across Jiang Luo’s field of vision.
The mist in the crystal ball dispersed, and the image vanished. The old witch, who had seen nothing, eagerly asked, “What did you see?”
Jiang Luo: “……”
His expression was extremely strange.
He had long wondered why there was a cannon fodder character with the same name as him in Devil, and why that character even looked exactly like him.
He’d originally thought only the Fated One might know the truth. But now he realized—so this was the reason?
He’d brought this on himself?
He offended the author of Devil, so the author wrote him into the book as cannon fodder to abuse?
…
No wonder, when reading Devil, he always found it strange how Chi You kept cruelly tormenting the original Jiang Luo character—who was clearly just a minor pawn being used—employing all kinds of brutal methods. So this was why.
Jiang Luo felt incredibly stifled inside.
But then—why had he transmigrated into the book and become a version of “Jiang Luo” based on himself?
The old witch asked curiously again. Jiang Luo, face dark, shook his head and stood up. He pulled two bills from his wallet and placed them on her table, then went off to find Chi You.
He had no mood to talk for the rest of the day, and surprisingly, Chi You didn’t say much either. They returned to the hotel. While Jiang Luo was lost in thought, Chi You quietly slipped out of the room.
The malicious ghost returned to the witch’s fortune-telling stall.
His figure loomed like a death wraith, casting a shadow over the witch’s vision. She hesitantly looked up. When she saw who it was, she wasn’t particularly surprised.
The malicious ghost gazed down at her and asked coldly, “What did he see?”
The witch slowly shook her head. “I don’t know.”
The malicious ghost chuckled lowly, leaned in closer, and asked in a soft voice, “Can he go back?”
The old witch still said, “I don’t know.”
The ghost paused, then straightened up slowly. His gaze darkened as he looked at her, then patted her shoulder in a gesture that almost seemed friendly before turning to leave.
The witch watched his back disappear into the distance, then immediately packed up her things and left the alley. But the moment she stepped into a deserted side street, her hands suddenly turned against her, strangling her own throat.
“Hurgh…hurgh…”
Just as she was about to choke herself to death, the crystal ball in her bag exploded. Her hands regained control. Gasping for breath, the old witch didn’t have time to mourn her broken crystal ball and staggered away.
***
Jiang Luo, after sulking for a while, stopped obsessing over it.
No matter how he’d transmigrated, the fact remained: he was already in this world. Since it had already happened, there was no point overthinking it.
Once he came to terms with that, Jiang Luo felt mentally refreshed. He was just about to show off this epiphany to Chi You when he looked around—and realized Chi You wasn’t in the room.
Where was he?
Jiang Luo frowned and left the hotel to look for him. But he had no idea where Chi You had gone, and his search eventually turned into a leisurely stroll.
Unknowingly, he arrived at a fountain garden.
Jiang Luo stood next to the fountain, momentarily distracted, when he suddenly heard footsteps behind him. He turned around and saw Chi You approaching with a single rose in his hand.
Jiang Luo couldn’t help but smile, crossing his arms and waiting in place. When Chi You came closer, he deliberately nitpicked, “Just one?”
Chi You replied, “This is the most beautiful one in the whole garden.”
Jiang Luo let out a drawn-out “Wao~,” his tone unreadable. “So you picked it fresh from the garden. I recall there was a sign saying picking a flower costs a $10 fine?”
Chi You said unhurriedly, “I already paid.”
Jiang Luo chuckled through his nose and finally raised his hand to accept the rose. He brought it close and inhaled deeply—the fragrance was rich and sweet. Chi You asked, “Shall we go back?”
Jiang Luo used the rose to hide his smile and looked around playfully. “I’m tired. Can’t walk anymore.”
In the end, the malicious ghost carried him out of the garden.
Jiang Luo’s hand, holding the rose, rested lazily on Chi You’s chest as he slumped comfortably on his back. The warm golden light of the setting sun bathed the deserted garden, making it look like a beautiful oil painting.
A rare quiet surrounded them, as though even time had slowed.
Then Jiang Luo suddenly asked, “Don’t you have anything you want to say?”
The malicious ghost said, “You’re kind of heavy.”
Jiang Luo let out a cold laugh and used the stroke of the character “mountain” (山) to symbolically weigh down on Chi You like Mount Tai.
The malicious ghost’s back instantly bent under the pressure, his knees nearly hitting the ground.
But just as Jiang Luo began to regret it and tried to retract the word spirit, Chi You slowly straightened back up.
Step by step, he kept walking forward.
With each step, the marble beneath his feet cracked under the weight, leaving deep footprints behind.
“But no matter how heavy,” the malicious ghost said, “I won’t put you down.”
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