Die, Replay, Repeat

"What the hell?! Renting a shed costs 300,000 a day?" Yang Ming’s eyes nearly popped out of his head in disbelief. "Are you serious? That’s insane! Staying at an inn is only 100,000 a day, and you're paying triple for a shed?"

"It’s not the same," Lu Ziming shook his head. "An inn charges 100,000 per person per night. But the shed I rented has no limit on the number of people. I just pay 300,000 a day, and as long as we can all fit, it doesn’t matter how many of us there are."

Yang Ming nodded slowly. "Oh, I see. So how big is this place?"

"Five square meters," Lu Ziming said without hesitation.

"F-f-five square meters?!" Yang Ming held up five fingers, his face twisted in disbelief. "That’s smaller than my bathroom! Are you sure we’ll all fit in there?"

"We can’t exactly live in it," Lu Ziming admitted. "But if we stand close enough, we’ll all fit."

The group collectively felt like they were being pranked. Yang Ming muttered, "So this is Whitestone, huh? The center of the universe, where even renting a place drains you dry!"

Seeing their discouraged faces, Lu Ziming quickly tried to reassure them. "In Whitestone, where every inch of land costs a fortune, finding a shed this cheap is already a miracle.

"Don’t expect comfort here. This is Whitestone—the battlefield against Specters. I’ve been hunting Specters for three years just to afford this shed.

"Anyway, we’re psychics. Sleep isn’t exactly essential for us. Standing and resting is more than enough. Plus, with all of you here, we’ll reach our goal of saving 100 million Spirit Money in no time."

The group fell silent. They wanted to argue, but there were so many things wrong with this situation they didn’t know where to start.

Under Lu Ziming’s lead, they navigated through a maze of dark, narrow alleys before finally arriving at their destination.

It was a small courtyard surrounded by crumbling walls that barely reached waist height. The gate was a rusty, old iron door, hanging slightly ajar.

Inside, the courtyard held three shabby, interconnected shacks with patchwork roofs and barely-there windows. For Whitestone, though, the roughly 100 square meters of space was decent.

But in the farthest corner of the yard stood a tiny wooden shack. Its roof was patched with straw, and its structure looked ready to collapse. It resembled a large doghouse more than anything else.

"We’re here. That’s my place," Lu Ziming announced, pointing at the wooden shack.

The group stared at the shack, doubtful. There didn’t seem to be enough space to stand, let alone move around.

"Uh, Commander," Yang Ming said, pointing at the shack with disbelief written all over his face, "are you sure that’s a shed and not... a doghouse?"

Lu Ziming replied, completely serious, "A doghouse isn’t this expensive. Renting one only costs 100,000 a day. This is a shed—300,000 a day!"

Yang Ming’s jaw dropped even further. "What?! A doghouse is 100,000 a day? Who the hell would rent a doghouse?"

The group assumed Lu Ziming was joking, but he explained earnestly, "People do rent doghouses. Every building in Whitestone can resist the Grey Fog, and that includes doghouses.

"A doghouse costs 100,000 a day, and it can fit two people if they curl up inside. That’s 50,000 per person—half the cost of an inn!

"The only problem is, a doghouse usually comes with a dead dog inside, taking up a lot of space. Otherwise, three people could probably squeeze in."

Everyone’s minds went wild as they pictured a rustic brick doghouse with dried straw on the floor, two people crammed inside, and a dead dog lying between them.

Just the thought sent chills down their spines.

Lu Ziming continued, "You shouldn’t think living in a doghouse is embarrassing. To save money, some people not only live in doghouses but even fight over them. In fact, there was a battle once where several psychics clashed just to secure the rental rights to Whitestone’s largest doghouse."

The group stood dumbfounded yet again, their worldview shattered for what felt like the hundredth time since arriving in Whitestone.

"Alright, enough talk. Let’s head inside," Lu Ziming said as he pushed open the shed door, beckoning everyone to follow.

Yang Ming, however, grimaced in hesitation. "How about we take turns using the shed? It’s way too small. Unless someone’s planning to hang from the ceiling, there’s no way we’re all going to fit."

Having recently broken into the fourth tier, Yang Ming was brimming with Spiritual Energy and wasn’t too bothered by the cramped conditions. Even when he was in the third tier, he could survive in the Grey Fog for long stretches.

Now, with his strengthened Corpse Bead and refined abilities, he could stay in the fog even longer without shelter.

In their group, apart from Fang Xiu, Yang Ming was the one most capable of enduring the Grey Fog. Though he was only in the early fourth tier, his Domain allowed him to absorb and internalize external forces, significantly reducing Spiritual Energy consumption. With his enhanced Corpse Bead, he could survive three full days and nights in the fog without issue.

But Lu Ziming quickly interjected, "It’s about to get dark. In Whitestone, you cannot stay outside after nightfall. Once the sun sets, Whitestone’s protective barriers vanish, and Specters from outside flood into the town."

"What?" Yang Ming’s expression shifted dramatically. "This town is literally designed to squeeze money out of people! They’re basically forcing us to pay for a place. We have no choice but to rent!"

Lu Ziming gave a wry smile. "Trust me, every loophole you think you’ve found has already been considered by the people who built Whitestone. Even for fifth-tier psychics like me, who can resist the Grey Fog for long periods, constant battles drain Spiritual Energy. No matter how strong you are, eventually, you’ll run out. So, one way or another, everyone ends up needing a place to stay in Whitestone."

He gestured to the shed. "Now hurry up and get inside. It’s almost dark."

Hearing this, everyone let out a collective sigh and stopped complaining. Safety came first, so they begrudgingly prepared to cram into the tiny shed.

But just as they were about to enter, Fang Xiu spoke up. "Wait."

The group froze, turning to look at him in confusion.

"What’s wrong, Xiu?" Li Xiaoru asked.

Fang Xiu calmly reached into his pocket, pulling out a 1,000 Spirit Money bill, and handed it to Lu Ziming. "Here. This is for our rent."

Lu Ziming blinked in surprise before laughing lightly. "What are you doing, Mr. Fang? You’re being way too polite. Put it away."

"Yeah, Xiu, no need for that," Li Xiaoru agreed. "Sir Lu and we go way back. Paying for lodging is just unnecessary."@@novelbin@@

But Fang Xiu shook his head firmly. "No. We must pay."

Lu Ziming stepped forward, gently pushing the bill back toward Fang Xiu. "Mr. Fang, you’re overthinking this. We’re all from headquarters. In a place like this, we should be supporting each other. Keep the money and come inside.

"Now’s not the time to fuss over formalities. It’s getting dark, and if we’re still out here when night falls, we’re all in trouble."

"Exactly, Xiu, let’s just go inside," Li Xiaoru added, nodding in agreement.

The group echoed Lu Ziming’s sentiments, urging Fang Xiu to let it go. But he didn’t move. Standing still, his gaze locked onto Lu Ziming’s, his expression calm but unyielding.

Then, in a measured tone, he said, "This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?"

Lu Ziming froze, his confident demeanor faltering for just a moment. A flicker of confusion crossed his face. "Mr. Fang, what do you mean? I don’t understand."

Fang Xiu’s lips curved into a faint smile. "From the very beginning, you’ve been insistent I put the Spirit Money away. But you never once said we wouldn’t have to pay."

Lu Ziming’s expression turned even more perplexed. "What? Mr. Fang, what are you talking about? Telling you to put the money away—that means you don’t have to pay, doesn't it?"

Translator's note: If they didn't pay in cash, they'd lose their Spiritual Energy to Lu Ziming—that's my guess.