Die, Replay, Repeat

Wen Jinglong stood quietly to the side, not saying a thing. Every so often, a sharp, cold glint flashed in his eyes, betraying the storm brewing inside.

Lu Ziming smirked, throwing him a teasing look. “What’s up, Wen? Too scared to talk?”

Wen shook his head, his tone flat. “I’ve got nothing to say yet.”

“Oh, come on,” Lu Ziming laughed, leaning back with a smug grin. “We go way back, Wen Jinglong. You think I can’t tell what’s cooking in that sneaky head of yours? Let me guess—you’re itching to run to Fang Xiu, spill all our secrets, and trade it for a free pass, right?”

Wen’s face darkened, his jaw locking tight. “That’s a load of crap! You really think I’d sink that low? Who do you think I am?”

“Low?” Tong Yang spat on the ground, sneering. “I've seen you sink way lower, you slimy jerk!”

“Shut it!” Wen fired back, his temper snapping. He stepped forward, fists balled up, ready to swing.

The tension between the three thickened, buzzing like a storm about to unleash.

Then Lu Ziming flashed a sly, easy smile. “Relax, guys. No need to fight. I’ve got a plan—one that’ll finish Fang Xiu for good.”

Wen and Tong swapped a glance, doubt written all over their faces.

Tong raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “What, are you losing your edge or something? That sounds like crazy talk. Forget getting past his Taotie army—Fang Xiu’s basically untouchable. The guy won’t die, no matter what you hit him with. You could have a dozen plans, and they’d still flop.”

Lu Ziming’s grin stretched wider, a spark of mischief in his eyes. “It all comes down to the Zhou's Mansion.”

“The Zhou's Mansion?” Wen repeated, brow furrowing.

“You got it. The Zhou's Mansion’s the core of the Lands Between—the key to this whole mess. It’s got some weird sealing power inside. Shuts everything down. Fang Xiu’s Taotie army? They can’t even get near it.”

Wen and Tong listened, but their faces stayed hard, still not sold.

“Even if that’s true,” Tong said, arms crossed, “let’s break it down. Without the Taotie army, it’s us—three fifth-tiers, six fourth-tiers—against their group: three fifth-tiers, two fourth-tiers, and one third-tier.

"Sure, we’ve got the numbers. But don’t sleep on Yang Ming, that fourth-tier psychic. He’s got some tricky moves—can hold his own against fifth-tiers for a bit. Your average fourth-tier doesn’t stand a chance. He could take on two, maybe three of ours alone. Then there’s Fang Xiu. He’s a monster. Third-tier body, but he’s got skills that can mess up fifth-tiers.

"How many fourth-tiers could he drop by himself? Who knows. Bottom line, our chances are still shaky—thirty percent at best.”

Wen’s eyes flickered with a mix of grit and frustration. “Forget it. Thirty percent beats zero. This is our chance—we’ve got to go for it.”

Lu Ziming’s smile sharpened, brimming with confidence. “You’re both missing the big picture. I said the Zhou's Mansion seals everything. Specters, psychics, Spiritual Energy—all of it.”

“What?” Wen and Tong shouted together, jaws dropping. Then, slow grins spread across their faces.

“So you’re saying…” Tong began, connecting the dots, “inside the Zhou's Mansion, we’re all just normal people?”

Lu Ziming nodded, cool and collected. “Yup. No Spiritual Energy, no powers—everyone’s equal. So, what’s our shot now?”

Wen let out a loud, wild laugh, practically buzzing with energy. “Nine of us against their six—and two of them are weaklings! I could handle them with one hand tied back! We’re looking at a hundred percent—a sure thing!”

Tong, though, gave Lu Ziming a cautious look. “Wait a minute. You’ve never been to the Zhou's Mansion. How do you know what’s in there?”

“How do I know?” Lu Ziming’s grin turned mysterious. “I paid for the info.”

Tong’s eyes widened. “You’ve still got money? Where’d you get it? We’ve been handing over every cent to Fang Xiu at the pawnshop daily.”

“Old stash,” Lu Ziming said with a casual shrug.

Wen and Tong stared at him, stunned.

“Hold on,” Wen said, squinting. “We all coughed up six million before—pretty much wiped ourselves out. How do you still have cash? We’re all fifth-tiers—why’d you have more saved up?”

“Remember Shen Yishuang?” Lu Ziming said, smirking. “Back in the day, I made a nice chunk off her. Used some of it to hit the pawnshop on the quiet and dig up details on the Zhou's Mansion.”

It clicked for them, like a light bulb going off.

“Ohhh,” they mumbled, nodding. It all added up now.

“Alright, let’s wrap up the talk,” Lu Ziming said, slicing through the heavy air. “The Zhou's Mansion’s our best bet. When we get there, stick to my plan. Head back to the crew, get them ready, and be set to roll.”

“Hang on,” Tong Yang cut in, frowning. “You got this tip from the pawnshop, yeah? What’s to stop Fang Xiu from doing the same? What if he catches wind of this and decides to take us out before we even reach the Zhou's Mansion, just to clean house?”

Lu Ziming brushed it off with a cocky grin. “I’ve got it handled. You forgetting Meng Qian from the Lands Between? That guy’s got a slick swap trick—teleports stuff like it’s no big deal.

"I gave him the heads-up. The moment that key pops up, he’ll snatch it and drop it right in our laps. Then we bolt straight to the Zhou's Mansion, no delay. Once we’re in, it’s our show. Every psychic’s on equal ground there—fourth-tiers slug it out with fourth-tiers, fifth-tiers with fifth-tiers.

"We’ve got more bodies, and it’s straight-up fistfights. We can’t lose. Plus, my sword skills give me a leg up—my body’s stronger than your typical fifth-tier. With an edge this good, if we still blow it, we might as well quit and call it quits.”

Tong Yang and Wen Jinglong soaked it in, and as the plan clicked, their eyes sparked with a fierce, crazy thrill.

The idea of getting one over on Fang Xiu—and erasing the sting of bowing to his Taotie army—lit a fire in their guts.

That shame? Nothing short of blood would rinse it off.

It didn’t cross their minds that without Fang Xiu around, they’d probably never have racked up 100 million Spirit Money in a lifetime.

But then Tong Yang stopped cold, a flicker of doubt shadowing his face. “Wait. You’re skipping something—Fang Xiu’s got that title: the Foreseer. What if he’s already foreseen every move we’re planning?”

At “the Foreseer,” Wen Jinglong’s swagger deflated fast. His brain started spinning, quietly sizing things up.

'Maybe selling them out’s still the safer bet…' he thought.

Lu Ziming just scoffed, though. “Seeing the future isn’t some constant perk. He’s not all-knowing—he’s got to pick his moments, and a trick that wild’s got to cost him heavy. No chance he’s wasting it unless he’s backed into a corner. Yeah, I’m taking a gamble, but I’d bet he hasn’t checked yet.”

“And if you’re off?” Tong pushed, his voice tight. “If he’s already seen it, we’re toast.”

Lu Ziming let out a sharp laugh, his words biting. “What’s up with you two, jumping at ghosts? You gonna cave just because the future might be locked? Even if he knows, who cares? You want to sit there waiting for the hammer to fall?

"Forget fate—I say we carve our own path. If he’s wise to us, we fight anyway. You want to go out without a punch? Not me. I’d rather crash and burn than sit idle.”

His raw, no-nonsense words hit hard, flipping a switch in them.

They hadn’t clawed their way to fifth-tier in the Lands Between by being soft. They’d groveled and wept to stay alive before—knees scraped, faces wet.

Now, for the same survival instinct, they’d dig deep and go for broke, unleashing that wild, trapped-beast fire.

Hours later.

The group rolled up to the pawnshop again, filing in one by one to trade their Spirit Money.

Yang Ming stood behind the counter, eyes shining as the cash pile grew. He had a lit straw hanging from his lips, puffing on it like a cheap smoke.

“Xiu,” he said, practically buzzing, “we at 100 million yet?”

Fang Xiu nodded, cool as ever. “100 million and five hundred grand.”

Translator's note: I say go for it too! Foreseeing isn't really a great power, especially when you're faced with absolute power. The only thing that you can foresee is your own demise.