Chapter 105: What Wish Did You Actually Make?

Chapter 105: What Kind of Wish Was Uttered After All?

—The situation took a sudden turn; the scholar lay dead.

The chaotic formulas and symbols in Eurus's mind instantly settled. Though her face turned deathly pale, she couldn't help but laugh, unable to tell whether the trembling in her body was from the lingering pain or sheer exhilaration.

She said with delight, "What goes around comes around. A scumbag who collaborated with the Burning Pure Land... serves him right!"

But her laughter stopped abruptly after just a few chuckles, her gaze turning uncertain as she stared at the enemy's corpse.

The scholar lay sprawled on the snow, his lifeless eyes like two dull gray stones, staring fixedly on the sky. Snowflakes drifted down, landing on his eyeballs, nose bridge, and the corners of his mouth, only to be quickly soaked by the blood seeping from his body, merging into a pool of foul blood.

Yet amidst this endless crimson tide, Eurus's keen eyes spotted a glimpse of silvery white—thin as mist or gossamer threads—drifting along with the blood toward the mountain rocks.

She blinked. Just as she was about to dismiss it as a trick of her eyes, more and more silver "threads" emerged and floated up from the bloodstains, gathering together with a life of their own, squirming across the surface of the snow before finally merging into the silent mountain before the scholar's corpse.

Why... was there something like this in his blood?

Eurus forced her throbbing, sluggish mind to work, and then suddenly realized a crucial question—

Since that certain NPC surnamed Yi had vanished from sight, yet could still maintain real-time communication with them... where had he been all this time? And what was the medium of their connection?

Before this, Eurus and the other players had grown accustomed to the system's presence—rooted in their consciousness, constantly watching them, controlling the progress of the dungeon. So when Yi Fengchu's voice replaced the system, speaking in a similar manner within their minds, no one had questioned whether there were hidden dangers behind this method of communication.

Only now did Eurus belatedly consider this possibility:

Yi Fengchu had never been far from them...

He had been hiding inside the players' bodies, perhaps even deep within their consciousness—seeing what they saw, hearing what they heard. His power had always been surging through their meridians and bloodstreams, shadowing their every move...

This conjecture made her skin crawl and sent shivers down her spine. Tentatively, she called out in a low voice, "Mr. Yi... are you there?"

"I am."

Sure enough, the voice of this mysterious being responded without delay. Though his tone was gentle and calm, it made Eurus's scalp tingle, her skin breaking out in goosebumps.

He—no, perhaps "It"—smiled warmly and said, "I have always been by your side."

This kind of "companionship" was more than she could handle!

With a shudder, Eurus drew her dagger and slashed her arm. Blood welled from the wound, and as expected, the familiar silver threads were mixed within.

Pressing her fingertip lightly against the cut, she watched as the blood, initially tinged with white, returned to its normal dark red. A mechanical whirring followed:

*"Bzzt... bzzt... Program responding. Reconnecting, please wait."*

*"Calibrating data—dungeon confirmed as A-rank special dungeon 'Mountain Sanctuary'; current player count: four, one deceased, confirmed; dungeon progress: 85%, confirmed..."*

Eurus finally let out a sigh of relief.

As the saying goes, "Easier invited than dismissed." Now, at last, they had managed to send this great presence away. Hearing the system's long-absent mechanical voice again, she even felt an inexplicable sense of familiarity.

Eurus instinctively glanced at Lena and noticed a fresh crimson cut on her hand—self-inflicted, it seemed.

"No wonder," Eurus mused thoughtfully. "No wonder she was standing so close to the mountain earlier... she was 'delivering' that substance from her blood into the rock."

And, incidentally, treating the rest of the players like circus monkeys on display.

Eurus keenly sensed that Lena must have some degree of tacit understanding with Yi Fengchu... Was this to be expected from someone also of the Fate Domain?

Eurus had always felt she never quite clicked with Ability users from this domain—these two charlatans, one silently worming his way into the players' bodies, pulling strings from behind the scenes to achieve his own goals; the other seemingly privy to a wealth of information but choosing to say nothing, less forthcoming than even their own Liar Domain!

She, on the other hand, had always been a fan of cooperation and sharing intel... though the veracity of said intel was, of course, up for debate.

A bone-chilling gust of wind swept through, carrying away the faint but pervasive metallic tang of blood.

Chen Hui, frozen in place, jolted as if waking from a nightmare, his back drenched in cold sweat.

More terrifying than losing a comrade was the fact that he couldn't even pinpoint where the enemy was. The shadow of death had crept in silently, as if invisible threads had woven an inescapable net, trapping him like a fly stuck at the center of a spider's web—unable to move, let alone resist.

As a second-generation artificial player mass-produced by the Burning Pure Land, Chen Hui's setting was "blindly loyal." He would always prioritize the completion of the mission over his own life.

Thus, his first instinct wasn't to flee but to pick up the pen still clutched in the scholar's hand and make his move on the mountain.

But Lena wasn't about to stand idly by.

She spoke softly from behind him, "The public often misunderstands the Fate Domain."

"We observe the future and witness the past—that doesn't mean we're powerless to influence the 'present.' We're just low-key, not dead."

Before the words had fully left her mouth, Chen Hui faintly heard the sound of something snapping.

The next moment, his right hand—reaching for the Anchored Eye—went numb. Then his left hand, his legs, his waist...

His body lost all support, and Chen Hui collapsed backward without resistance, as if some mysterious force had stripped him of all sensation and control over his limbs. In his daze, he even felt as though his arms and legs had never existed.

Straining to lift his head, Chen Hui saw Lena holding a pair of silver scissors in her hand, their sharp edges glinting as she snipped at the air in his direction—each cut severing his connection to another part of his body.

Lena smiled sweetly at him. "Judging by the length of your fate, you must have only been 'born' a little over a year ago. Otherwise, you'd have heard of me."

"Let me reintroduce myself before you die. I am a follower of the great Lord of Fate, the Seamstress who trims the frayed edges of destiny, one of the Cardinals of the Destiny Pilgrimage."

Pausing, she looked down at him. "And the one who will bury you, ending this cycle of yours."

......

As the blood seeped into the snow, the silver threads swam like nimble fish, merging into the side of the mountain and awakening the long-dormant serpent's shed skin that had turned to stone.

A luminous glow pierced through the moss and lichen that had accumulated over the years, suddenly bright as noonday.

Time flowed backward across the snowy surface of the "mountain," causing countless snowflakes to rise along the paths they had once fallen, tracing trajectories like radiating meteor showers in the sky.

—The mountain was like a colossal beast slowly rousing, shaking off the snow that had covered it.

The snow layer on the mountain grew thinner, while the suspended snowflakes in the air multiplied, coiling into a towering white tornado that stretched into the heavens, gathering and swirling with immense frost—like the powerful exhalation of a great beast.

Not only the nearby players but even the tourists and locals at the foot of the mountain noticed the strange phenomenon of snow rising against gravity, all turning their cameras toward the spectacle.

Meanwhile, inside the serpent's shed skin, Zhang Ming and his father sensed something amiss.

*Thud... thud...*

A slow, rhythmic thumping echoed from all around them.

At first, Zhang Ming wondered if he was hallucinating. Then he worried his heart, overwhelmed by fear, was beating too loudly.

But soon he realized he was just paranoid from stress—what normal person's heartbeat was this slow?

At first, it was nearly one beat per minute. Then it gradually sped up to one every thirty seconds... and was still getting faster.

It was as if some colossal entity had awakened from its frozen slumber, gradually regaining the signs of waking life...

Huh?

Zhang Ming suddenly widened his eyes in astonishment, looking upward.

Whether it was his imagination or not, he felt the tunnel had grown slightly brighter. Faint silver light traced the scaly patterns on the walls, sweeping away dust and meticulously outlining the intricate, beautiful scales...

Before Zhang Ming could ponder further, the monster extended a long arm, coiled it around his waist, and abruptly scaled the stone wall like a gecko, scurrying at breakneck speed.

Dragged roughly by the creature, Zhang Ming felt immense pressure above his abdomen, the crushing sensation paired with dizzying disorientation. He gasped out broken pleas for help:

"Ugh... s-slow down... hurk—"

He retched repeatedly, but having eaten nothing for over ten hours, nothing came up.

Zhang’s father completely ignored his son's pleas. His mind was consumed by extreme terror and panic, his only thought to put as much distance between them as possible.

"He's back... He's coming back!"

He babbled incessantly, "He won't let me go... He'll sadistically toy with me, torment me until I break completely... No, perhaps I'm already mad..."

*Ahem.*

At that moment, Yi Fengchu couldn't help but interject, "What kind of chaotic, evil deity do you take me for in your mind?"

Recognizing Yi Fengchu’s voice, Zhang Ming waved frantically, whimpering with all his might to signal distress.

God, he'd never found Yi Fengchu’s voice so heavenly before!

Save him! If this dragging continued, he'd suffocate from lack of oxygen...

But Zhang’s father, isolated for years, found the voice utterly unfamiliar—echoing unnaturally in a tunnel that should’ve been empty.

The monster clinging to the wall slowed momentarily before locating the voice's origin, its neck jerking stiffly as it turned—

Now, the heartbeat in its ears grew clearer, louder, faster, hammering in his skull until the world spun, as if heralding "His" imminent arrival.

The tunnel had shed its original rough, dull stone texture, faintly hinting at its former polished brilliance. On the stone wall mere inches from Zhang’s father, the scales gleamed like freshly polished mirrors, each scaly pattern reflecting the figure of a young man.

The black-haired youth met its gaze without the fear typical of humans facing unknown monsters, answering with nothing but a polite smile.

Those deep, dark eyes—even after over a decade—sent instant recognition—and terror—through Zhang’s father, trembling uncontrollably.

"Long time no see," Yi Fengchu nodded at it, curious. "What gave you the idea I’ve been tormenting you?"

Zhang’s father instinctively released the wall, tumbling to the ground with Zhang Ming.

Amid Zhang Ming's cries of pain, it let out a raw, panicked shriek, desperate to distance itself from Yi Fengchu. Yet the youth's smile and reflections surrounded it from all directions—above, below, left, right—as if the shadows themselves were closing in...

Nowhere to flee.

Watching Zhang’s father shiver and curl into a ball, Yi Fengchu sighed. "Could you answer my question? Ignoring me after all these years? Rude."

"...Because," Zhang’s father's tone was strange, as if brimming with seething, impotent fury, too afraid to vent lest it provoke Yi Fengchu, forcing the words into a threadbare, trembling whine, "because you... You twisted my wish..."

"Countless people came to this 'snowy mountain' to pray—some got their wishes, others left disappointed. Only me..."

"Only I ended up like this... left like *this*..."

By the end, its voice nearly choked in its throat, reduced to garbled, wet whispers.

Yi Fengchu pondered briefly before speaking. "You seem to have misunderstood something."

"Truthfully, I never knew your wish, nor did I handle it personally."

"This 'snowy mountain' is my discarded serpent’s skin—just a source of power without consciousness. When people sincerely make wishes here, forming the most basic *Prayer Ritual*, its residual energy might nudge fate’s threads, achieving adjustments within reasonable bounds—what you call 'wishes coming true.'"

Zhang’s father fell silent, as if realizing something, drowning in a tide of bitter regret.

Yi Fengchu countered, "Why would I twist a wish I didn’t even hear?"

"The ritual’s effect hinges entirely on *you*—your mind, your longing."

"Now tell me—what exactly did you wish for when you trekked to this relic of me back then?"