Die, Replay, Repeat

“Hell yeah!” Yang Ming whooped, leaping into the air. He yanked the lit straw from his mouth, flung it to the ground, and stomped it out with a couple of vicious kicks. “Finally… finally, we’re busting out of this hellhole. I’ve been down to smoking butts these past few weeks.”

The others lit up with grins too—even Lu Ziming and his people. It was like everyone could taste freedom, the sweet relief of ditching the Land Between for good.

All eyes were on Fang Xiu as he reached into the Double Dragon Ring and slowly pulled out the last of Spirit Money.

Lu Ziming and his gang watched like hawks, hearts pounding. This was it—the weakest link in their plan, the do-or-die moment. If Fang Xiu didn’t trade for the key and decided to turn on them right here, it’d all be over.

Lucky for them, Fang Xiu didn’t disappoint.

“Cash it in for the Zhou's Mansion key,” he said coolly.

The second the words left his mouth, Lu Ziming’s crew let out a collective breath. It’s in the bag.

Suddenly, the pawnshop’s rotting corpse twitched to life. The 100 million vanished into thin air, and a creepy crack-crack of grinding bones echoed through the room. The corpse fumbled in a drawer and pulled out an old, weathered key.

That’s when Lu Ziming roared, “Now!”

A flash of teleportation—SWAP!—rippled through the air, a burst of Spiritual Energy kicking up like a gust of wind.

In an instant, the key in the corpse’s hand turned into a worthless pebble.

Yang Ming’s face twisted with rage. “You sons of—”

He didn’t get to finish.

WHOOSH-WHOOSH-WHOOSH!

Lu Ziming and his crew bolted for the door, moving so fast they left afterimages in their wake.

Fang Xiu just stood there, watching calmly, unruffled.

“Xiu!” Yang Ming shouted, spinning toward him. “They’ve got the key—they’re gone! We got to chase them!”

“No rush,” Fang Xiu said, his voice steady as ever.

Over the past few days, he’d pieced together plenty about the Zhou's Mansion—thanks to the pawnshop and some death-loop resets. He knew exactly what Lu Ziming was up to. “Let them open the door for us.”

With that, he strolled out of the shop like he was taking a Sunday walk. The others saw his cool confidence and relaxed, falling in step behind him as they headed for the Zhou's Mansion.

By the time they got there, the mansion’s massive doors were swung wide open, revealing a pitch-black void inside—like the gaping maw of some hungry beast.

Fang Xiu stared into the darkness. He’d scoped the place out before with Fade, but it’d looked normal then.

Now it clicked: the real Zhou's Mansion was in another dimension, and the key was the only way in.

He led the group inside. The darkness swallowed them whole, wrapping around them like ink.

A faint tug of spatial distortion hit, and then—bam—the black peeled back, and the view opened up.

They stepped into a sprawling courtyard, packed with elegant buildings—pavilions, winding streams, fake mountains, gardens, the works.

It was like some ancient warlord’s estate, big enough for a thousand servants without feeling cramped. But right now, the place was anything but welcoming.

A heavy shroud of darkness clung to every corner, broken only by the eerie glow of white lanterns swaying along the corridors. Each one had a bold, blood-red “In Memoriam” scrawled across it, adding a chilling vibe to the already spooky scene.

“My Spiritual Energy—it’s gone!” Xiao Chuxia yelped, her voice sharp with panic. She’d always been the quickest to sense a shift.

“Mine too,” someone else muttered.

“Same here,” another chimed in.

The group’s faces darkened, tension creeping in. Something freaky was at play in the Zhou's Mansion—a suffocating force that crushed everyone’s Spiritual Energy flat.

“Xiu, this place is messed up,” Yang Ming said, pacing a little, his nerves showing. “Suppressing fourth-tiers is one thing, but fifth-tiers too? What happened to the ‘exit route’? Feels more like we’re walking into a trap!”

Fang Xiu tuned in to his own Spiritual Energy, and checked the Specter in his body.

Yep, just like the pawnshop intel had warned: everything got locked down in here.

This was no ordinary suppression—it was a full-on ban, some next-level Forbidden mojo.

A power strong enough to seal the Land Between with a dismembered body? Fifth-tiers were ants next to that kind of terror.

“Let’s go,” Fang Xiu said coolly, waving the group to follow as he headed deeper into the Zhou Mansion.

They’d only taken a few steps when a scream that could curdle blood tore through the air from somewhere close.

“Ahhh!!!”

The group stopped dead, faces going tight.

“That voice…” one of them mumbled. “That’s Lu Ziming’s crew!”

“This place is a mess, Xiu,” Yang Ming said, a dark grin pulling at his mouth. “No wonder you weren’t fazed. Let those idiots test the waters for us.”

“Let’s see what’s up,” Fang Xiu replied, leading the way toward the noise.

They moved down a long hallway, and there they were—Lu Ziming and his gang, eyes wide, staring at the courtyard ahead, pale as ghosts.

In the middle of the open space stood a guy wrapped in a burial shroud, clawing at his throat like a lunatic. His eyes bugged out in pure panic, fingers carving bloody lines into his skin. He kept going, tearing at himself like he wanted to rip his neck apart.

Behind him stood a human-shaped shadow, rocking oversized clown shoes. A creepy vibe poured off it, heavy and choking, making everyone’s hair stand on end.

Then the real horror show started. The shroud guy’s eyes bulged even more, practically popping out.

“Guh… urk…” A nasty choking sound gurgled from his throat, and then—holy hell—a pitch-black hand burst out of his mouth. His neck swelled up, his jaw stretched way too wide, splitting at the edges like ripped cloth.

It looked like someone had shoved an arm down his throat and kept going.

The wet, gruesome sound of tearing flesh hit the air as blood sprayed everywhere. 

First one shadowy arm came out, then another, then a torso, legs—until a second shadow figure in those ridiculous shoes stepped out, fully formed.

The shroud guy dropped, a hollowed-out shell, his skin sagging like a snake’s old skin, all the insides sucked dry.

Even for a tough crew like this, the sight sent chills racing down their backs.

Part of it was the bloody mess, but the real gut punch? They were helpless here—stripped down to regular people with no power to fall back on.

It yanked them straight back to those early days of raw terror, when they were just normal folks facing the unknown with nothing but fear.

Someone from Lu Ziming’s group shouted in a panic. “Hold up! Wasn’t this place supposed to shut down all powers? How come we’re the only ones stuck like this, and there’s still a damn Specter loose? That’s some rigged nonsense!”

TAP-TAP-TAP…

The sound of those big shoes clicking on the stone floor bounced around the courtyard.

The two shadowy figures started shuffling toward them, slow and steady.

Everyone tensed up, figuring they could deal with the sluggish pace—but then the shadows flickered, like a glitchy video skipping ahead. One moment they were way off; the next, they’d popped up less than ten feet away.

The shadows split—one heading for Lu Ziming’s crew, the other locking onto Fang Xiu’s. 

Chaos broke out, and everyone stumbled back, hearts pounding.

That’s when Fang Xiu’s voice sliced through, calm and clear. “This thing’s got a kill rule: step on your shadow, and you’re done. Watch your feet.”

He didn’t yell, but he made sure it was loud enough—reaching Lu Ziming’s group too. Of course he did. After all, those guys were his handpicked bait for what was coming next.