Die, Replay, Repeat

Up in the sky, Fang Xiu’s steady voice sliced through the air, soft but sharp, like a message from above. “So, how do you want to die?”

Down below, Lu Ziming and the rest stood rooted to the spot, their faces tight with strain. In a flash, everything had flipped against them.

They traded uneasy looks, each catching the same spark of fear in the others’ eyes. None of them saw this coming—Fang Xiu, just a third-tier psychic, pulling out one nightmare after another.

“Fang Xiu,” a chubby middle-aged guy spoke up, his forced laugh dry and shaky. He’d been tossing sleazy comments about women not long ago, but now his voice carried a careful, almost begging edge. “Hey, no need for us to make a big deal out of this, right? We’re all trapped in the Land Between—same mess, same struggle. We all want out of this dump. Shouldn’t we stick together?”

“Yeah, totally!” a skinny guy with a pointy face jumped in, nodding fast. “Teamwork’s the key, you know? We started off wrong—didn’t know you had this kind of power. How about we team up? Make some money, get out quicker. What do you think?”

“Team up?” Fang Xiu’s eyes slid over them, cool and distant. He watched their switch from cocky to crawling, and it left him cold. “You think you’re worth my effort? A bunch of nobodies?”

His words landed hard, like a smack. Their faces twisted, stung by the scorn in his tone.

“Fang Xiu!” one of them barked, hackles up. “Don’t act like we’re trembling here! We’re offering a truce because we don’t want to waste Spiritual Energy on a dumb fight—not because we’re scared.”

“Right,” another chimed in, stepping closer. “Think it over, Fang Xiu. Don’t let your ego mess us all up. We work together, we both come out ahead. We fight, we both crash. Sure, you’re tough—I’ll give you that. But can you really handle all of us solo? Even if you win, we’d rip each other to shreds, and in the Land Between, that’s a death wish. No one’s got enough left to hold off the Specters after that. We’d all be toast.”

They weren’t wrong. Their first plan was to muscle Fang Xiu down with numbers. But now, staring at his raw strength, they wavered.

Even a win would cost them too much—lives, energy, years of scraping for Spirit Money gone. One billion Spirit Money bills to break free of the Land Between was already a stretch; a brawl like this could push them back ages. It wasn’t worth the gamble.

But peace or war? That wasn’t their choice. It was Fang Xiu’s.

He shook his head, a small smirk pulling at his mouth. “You still don’t see it, do you? We were never on the same level. Fight or talk—it’s my decision, not yours.”

“Cocky jerk!” Lu Ziming snapped, his voice roaring with fury.

“Fang Xiu, don’t be an idiot!” Lu Ziming yelled. “Fine, skip the compensation—I don’t even care about it now!”

“Compensation?” Fang Xiu’s laugh broke loose, wild and free, ringing through the sky. Black flames flared around him, dancing in the air as his silver hair streamed like a river. His eyes—one dark as night, the other blazing red—fixed on Lu Ziming, alive with fierce joy and threat.

“You?” he mocked, his voice sinking into a rough, taunting growl. “A filthy stray like you, clawing through the dirt, thinks you can demand compensation from me? You’re not even worthy to shine my shoes!”

The air trembled with his raw, reckless laughter.

Then—BOOM!

Taotie struck.

A massive, rotting hand, big as a mountain, dropped from the sky. Its flesh squirmed with decay, and faint, eerie whispers followed as it crashed down toward the group. 

The air broke apart under its force, splitting with loud cracks that shattered the quiet. The ground caved and split just from the wind it kicked up, well before the hand even hit.

All they could do was gape upward, frozen in fear, as death roared down at them.

Fear shot across their faces in a heartbeat. None of them thought Fang Xiu would actually strike—taking on every psychic in the Land Between, all by himself.

BOOM!

The decaying giant hand smashed into the ground, and the earth shook like a massive quake had hit.

Lu Ziming and the others bolted like startled birds, darting in every direction to dodge the strike.

“Fang Xiu, are you out of your mind?” Lu Ziming bellowed, his voice raw with anger and panic. “You’re really going for it? Don’t you see we’ll all end up dead—bleeding out in this wretched place?”

In the Land Between, nobody fought to the finish unless the odds were stacked heavily one way. The price was too high.

Every bit of power, every drop of Spiritual Energy, was your ticket to survival. Waste it in a scrap, and you’d be helpless against the Grey Fog—or worse, the Specters. 

Winning a brawl didn’t matter if you were too wrecked to make it through what came next.

That’s why they’d all agreed ages ago: no killing unless there was no other choice. More people meant more help scraping up Spirit Money, and nobody wanted to pay the cost of a fight.

“You’ve got it wrong,” Fang Xiu said, his red eyes glowing with a wild spark. “The only ones dying today are you. In the Land Between, I’m untouchable—undying!”

Their desperate scrambling lit a fire in his chest, a hunger for the chase.

It took him back to the old days, running scared from HER—his “wife.” Back then, he was the one hunted. Now, nothing got his blood pumping like turning the tables, dishing out that same fear and hurt.

He’d made up his mind long ago: when he laughed, he’d be the only one who got to. And when he cried, everyone else would be sobbing right alongside him.

“Let’s play!” he crowed, his voice sharp and wild. He spurred the Taotie forward, and the ground for miles split and shattered, turning into a chaotic wreck like a storm had ripped through.

At last, the fleeing crew hit their limit.

“This guy won’t stop until he’s six feet under,” one of them snarled. “He’s counting on us being too scared to go all out—that’s why he’s acting like he rules the place.”

“Damn it,” another muttered, swiping sweat off his face. “I’ve been scraping by in the Land Between for years, and now some cocky kid’s got me rattled?”

“We’ve got to knock him down a peg. Show him he’s not invincible.”

They decided: they’d push back—just enough to put Fang Xiu in his place. Make him realize they were on the same level, not toys for him to mess with.

It was like two big shots squaring off, showing strength to keep the other in line. Neither wanted to flip the whole game, because both could bring the heat. Even if one had the edge, the other could still make it sting. That balance gave them both a say.

But Fang Xiu wasn’t playing that game. He wasn’t a big shot—they were.

Lu Ziming’s group had the numbers and muscle, including three fifth-tier psychics in their ranks. By all logic, they should’ve been on top.

Still, they held back. Taking Fang Xiu out would cost them—maybe more than they could afford.

Sure, they could finish him, but then what? They’d be bruised, leaking Spiritual Energy, sitting ducks for the Specters.

Even if they made it through, clawing their way to a billion Spirit Money to get out of this place would drift further off. They’d be stuck here for good.

That wasn’t the life they wanted. But they weren’t about to let some hotshot like Fang Xiu walk all over them, either.

They figured he was pulling this to claim a bigger piece of the Land Between—showing off to prove he didn’t fear death.

In a world where anyone could burn it all down, it boiled down to who had the nerve to act like it didn’t matter.