Die, Replay, Repeat

The streets of Whitestone were paved with white stones, lined with neatly arranged houses and even a number of traditional shops.

The entire town exuded a sense of antiquity, as if it were a remnant of a bygone era.

On the streets, a large number of people were wandering around. Vendors manned stalls, travelers hurried about, and children played in the alleys.

At first glance, the scene appeared peaceful and harmonious. But to the group, it felt like stepping into an icy abyss.

Because none of these people were alive—they were all corpses!

Each one resembled the Ferryman from earlier. Their empty, hollow eyes stared blankly, their shriveled skin tightly stretched over their skeletal frames, making them look like dried mummies dressed in old-fashioned clothing.

Their attire was distinctly from a past era, consistent with styles from over a century ago.

The eeriest part was that, despite being long dead, these corpses behaved just like the living—vendors shouted to sell their goods, buyers haggled for better deals, and children chased each other through the streets.

It was as if their lives had been frozen in time, perpetually mimicking the routines they had followed when they were alive.

"These people are all dead," Lu Ziming's voice broke the silence. "They died over a hundred years ago, yet their corpses are sustained by some unknown force, allowing them to continue living as they did in life."

He paused before adding, "But don't worry. While they might look terrifying, they aren't hostile. You can safely ignore them."

To demonstrate his point, Lu Ziming unsheathed his sword and swung it at a nearby corpse.

SLASH!

The blade cut cleanly through the corpse, splitting it in two. Bones clattered to the ground, scattering in pieces.

Yet none of the other corpses reacted. They simply went about their business, as if nothing had happened.

The group collectively let out a sigh of relief. It turned out these corpses were more bark than bite.

Lu Ziming continued, "That said, I wouldn't recommend attacking the corpses that run the shops. You'll need to trade with them eventually, and if you kill them, you'll have to wait until the next day for them to regenerate before you can trade again."

"Regenerate? They're already dead, and they can still regenerate?" Yang Ming asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Lu Ziming nodded. "That's right. Nothing and no one in Whitestone can be permanently destroyed. Even if they are damaged, they'll return to their original state the next day. I've been here for three years, and in all that time, nothing has ever changed."

The group exchanged astonished glances. They couldn't wrap their heads around the strange, magical nature of the Land Between and its connection to this unchanging town.

Yang Ming asked, "Who built this place? Was it the Specters?"

Lu Ziming shook his head. "No, Whitestone was built in the previous era. For reasons unknown, it has been preserved exactly as it was. It's like a prison—on the surface, it seems to protect everyone here, but in reality, it's meant to imprison them."

Fang Xiu silently observed the orderly streets of Whitestone, his thoughts swirling. He couldn't shake the feeling that the existence of this town might somehow be connected to Zhou Qingfeng, the Chosen One of the previous era.

"Imprison them?" Fang Xiu finally asked. "What do you mean by that?"

Lu Ziming let out a bitter laugh. "Earlier, you asked about the one-billion Spirit Money debt. At first glance, it seems like an impossible amount. But if you think about it carefully, it's actually not that difficult to accumulate if you work hard enough.

"For example, killing one snake-like Specter earns you one Spirit Money. Even under the constant erosion of the Grey Fog, a fourth-tier psychic can kill about 100,000 Specters a day.

"There are currently about a dozen psychics in Whitestone, meaning they collectively earn over a million Spirit Money each day. At that rate, it would only take about 100 days to gather a billion Spirit Money."

He continued, "And snake-like Specters aren't the only ones in the Land Between. There are also more powerful Specters with much higher values.

"A Class-D Specter is worth 100 Spirit Money. A Class-C Specter is worth 1,000. Class-B Specters fetch 10,000, Class-A Specters 100,000, and a Class-S Specter can net you a million Spirit Money.

"If you hunt higher-class Specters, you could accumulate a billion Spirit Money even faster. Doesn't that sound simple?"

The bitter smile on Lu Ziming's face deepened as he explained.

Yang Ming, as usual, didn't hold back. "This sounds simple? Killing 100,000 snake-like Specters in a single day? I'd be lucky to kill 1,000 before collapsing!"

"Yang Ming, shut up and stop interrupting!" Li Xiaoru snapped. "Sir, please continue."

Lu Ziming sighed, gesturing for the group to follow him. As they walked along Whitestone's eerie streets, he continued, "It might sound simple, but in reality, it's far more complicated. Surviving in Whitestone requires spending an enormous amount of Spirit Money every single day.

"You've probably noticed by now that the town is also shrouded in the Grey Fog. That fog constantly drains a psychic's Spiritual Energy, and not even a fifth-tier psychic can resist its effects for long without help.

"Hunting Specters is already exhausting, and without proper rest and recovery, you'll eventually burn out and die. That's where Spirit Money comes in. Take, for example, this inn over here."

He gestured toward a small, two-story wooden building on the side of the street. The inn had an old, rustic charm, with weathered wooden beams that looked like they might collapse at any moment. Above the entrance, a faded plaque read:

Yue Lai Inn.*

"Wait, what?!" Yang Ming exclaimed, his eyes wide with recognition. "This can't be… the legendary intergalactic hotel chain, Yue Lai Inn? It's in every movie, novel, and comic ever written!"

"Yang Ming, will you stop embarrassing yourself?!" Li Xiaoru barked. "This town is from a previous era. Yue Lai Inn started here, and only later became a cultural icon in media. Do you even think before you speak?"

Yang Ming squinted suspiciously at her. "Didn't you say you don't watch movies and only read 'serious literature'?"

"Cough, cough…" Li Xiaoru's face turned red, and she quickly changed the subject. "Sir, please ignore this idiot and continue."

Lu Ziming, his patience wearing thin, wondered how someone as reckless as Yang Ming had managed to survive this long. Even in the Land Between, the guy treated danger like a joke.

Lu Ziming resumed, "This inn provides shelter from the Grey Fog's erosion. But do you know how much it costs to stay a single night?"

"How much?" the group asked.

Lu Ziming smiled faintly. "100,000 Spirit Money bills."

"100,000 Spirit Money?!" the group echoed in unison, their shock palpable.

For a fourth-tier psychic, hunting Specters in the Grey Fog could earn roughly 100,000 Spirit Money in a day. But if a single night's stay cost 100,000, that meant—

"You're telling me we'd be working just to break even? That's robbery!" Yang Ming shouted.

It dawned on them all that surviving in Whitestone wasn't just hard—it was a carefully constructed nightmare.

Clinging to a sliver of hope, someone hesitantly asked, "Is it 100,000 per person, or per room?"

"Per person," Lu Ziming replied, shattering their optimism.

Yang Ming groaned. "What's the point of paying? Can't we just skip the inn and tough it out?"

Lu Ziming shook his head. "You'd be throwing your life away. No one can endure the erosion of the Grey Fog for long without rest. If you try, you'll weaken until you collapse.

"Granted, a fourth-tier psychic can push themselves to earn a bit more—maybe 150,000 Spirit Money in a day. But after paying for the inn, you'd only have a few thousand left.

"Surviving isn't just about paying for a bed. Everything here costs money—food, clothing, supplies. Take this burial shroud I'm wearing, for example."@@novelbin@@

He gestured to the tattered funeral garment draped over his body. Though it looked shabby and unsightly, it radiated faint Specter energy.

"This shroud may look like nothing, but it's essential. It doesn't need cleaning and offers basic protection against Specter attacks. No one can avoid injuries forever while hunting, and wounds will slow you down. Without a shroud, your chances of surviving here drop significantly."

Xiao Chuxia frowned. "How much does a burial shroud cost?"

Lu Ziming paused. "500,000."

"Half a million?!" Yang Ming practically jumped out of his skin.

"This is crazy! Whitestone's economy is rigged! You can earn Spirit Money here, but you can only spend it here—it never leaves the town!"

Translator's note: "Yue" means "happy," and "Lai" means "come" in Chinese. It simply means "you'll be happy if you stay."