Chapter 125: How to Kill the Sacred Spirit in the Mirror

Chapter 125: How to Kill the Holy Spirit in the Mirror

Before entering the dungeon, Yi Fengchu carefully crafted the personalities, motives, and relationships of different identities. He patiently pieced together the fragments of a grand puzzle until they connected to form a complete picture.

The first thing he designed was Elius’s experiences during her years of disappearance—

Rumors claimed she had been devoured by the Fate Black Goat, so how could she have returned?

Even if she had miraculously revived, what leverage did she have to dare question the divine verdict of the Fate Domain and secretly challenge the True God?

From a writing perspective, a character with implausible motives could never stand vividly on stage. Similarly, without explaining these details, even Longinus’s people wouldn’t be persuaded.

After careful consideration, Yi Fengchu quickly decided on Elius’s background story.

What could challenge the True God directly?

—Only another being of divine status… the former deity of the Fate Domain, the black goat, who had once devoured Elius.

Though the black goat had most likely been consumed by his past self, Yi Fengchu didn’t mind dragging it out for another performance. After all, the god was already dead, and the sole power of interpretation lay in his hands—he could make up the story however he pleased.

Thus, Yi Fengchu’s setting for Elius was this: years ago, she was captured and swallowed by the Fate Black Goat, her body left in its stomach. Later, though the black goat died, its remaining consciousness and power fused with the witch’s soul, driving her back to the human world to reclaim control of the Fate Domain.

This way, even if old acquaintances found her unfamiliar, there was a reasonable explanation—because the current "Elius" was no longer the original one!

The black goat’s spiritual roots had long burrowed deep into her shattered soul, turning her into a ghost wandering against her will through the world. Her self-awareness and past memories had been crumbled to dust, leaving only one obsession: to assist the great Fate Black Goat in its resurrection…

"I’m practically a genius at story-writing," Yi Fengchu couldn’t help but praise himself.

"..." His phone offered no opinion on his skill, silently remarking, "Given how fate flatters you, even the clumsiest design would be rationalized."

As for Chu Fu, who would appear in this dungeon, Yi Fengchu had used this identity a few times before, but back then, he had no comprehensive plan—just a few impromptu acts, leaving the characterization entirely to the Anomalous Affairs Bureau’s imagination.

To avoid contradicting prior impressions, Yi Fengchu temporarily set him as someone who, despite surviving, kept his pride and principles, unwilling to openly submit to his former nemesis—now the Lord of Fate. He voluntarily went into exile in the Gods’ Playground, wandering once more as a player.

Yet, he was also grateful for his enemy’s grace and tolerance toward him and his kin, so in secret, he occasionally carried out covert tasks for Him.

Thus, Bryce served as an Apostle, delivering divine oracles and leading the church in service under His glory.

Meanwhile, Wu Suer operated in the Gods’ Playground as a hound—not devoted to Him, yet occasionally leashed by Him, the most flexible identity.

His phone asked, "You actually gave yourself an identity that isn’t completely faithful to you?"

"I just think that if he were truly the High Priest, he wouldn’t submit to working obediently under me. He wouldn’t believe in me, much less the gods, and wouldn’t stoop to feigning devotion. But compared to the gods, I’d probably be marginally more acceptable in his eyes, so he wouldn’t mind occasionally working for me or sending little surprises… as repayment for the life he salvaged. Of course, that’s assuming he’s still alive."

Pausing, Yi Fengchu shrugged. "Besides, the Lord is indifferent."

He never cared about whether others believed in him, the depth of their devotion, or the scale of his followers. He rarely even paid attention to others’ opinions.

In some ways, he might be even more arrogant than the often-called "arrogant" High Priest.

"Alright, the fundamental characterizations for the two protagonists are roughly filled in." Yi Fengchu idly twirled his pen, sketching two crude matchstick figures on paper—one with short curly hair, the other in a dress and a witch’s hat.

"Next, it’s time for the characters to move and do what they’re meant to do."

……

At the bus stop for Route 414, a strange passenger appeared.

Several buses came and went, passengers flowing in and out, but only the young man of mixed heritage remained seated on the plastic bench, showing no intention of boarding.

Spread across his lap were stacks of city weekly newspapers. Chu Fu leisurely flipped through them, even savoring the gossip in the corners, like an aimless loafer killing time.

By dusk, the remote stop was empty save for him.

Another bus slowly approached, but unlike the others, this one appeared much more decrepit.

Dust-coated windshield, peeling and faded paint, rust-eaten tires… The dark-red bus creaked like an elderly man on death's door, lumbering into the station.

The grimy windows made it impossible to see inside clearly, but faint silhouettes stood motionless within.

Flickering crimson numbers on the display screen read—"414," mirrored in reverse.

The folding doors opened, releasing a stale stench of stagnant air and gasoline. Chu Fu wrinkled his nose in distaste, waving a hand in front of his face.

The driver, clad in a bus company uniform with a sickly pallor, turned his dull, lifeless eyes toward the waiting passenger. His voice was hoarse and slow:

"Bo...ard...ing...?"

Chu Fu’s reaction was unlike any human passenger the driver had seen before. Unperturbed, he casually gathered the newspapers and smiled. "So this is the legendary ‘Mirror 414 Bus,’ right?"

"Finally. I’ve been waiting for you."

With a sigh of relief, he stepped aboard, clutching his stack of newspapers.

The interior was quiet as a grave. Aside from Chu Fu’s light footsteps and breathing, no other sounds came from the passengers. These figures without breath or pulse all turned their heads, staring blankly at the newcomer, as if judging whether he could truly become one of them.

Under the collective gaze of the bus’s spectral passengers, Chu Fu found a relatively clean window seat. Along the way, a child’s head rolled into the aisle—deathly pale, with protruding fangs and crimson eyes fixed unblinkingly on him, eagerly anticipating his reaction.

Chu Fu looked down at it for a few seconds before speaking patiently, "Kid, move aside. Can you not block the way?"

The child’s head: "..." Why are you so calm?!

It’s just a head! No human is just a head!

By its past experiences, new passengers should be pissing themselves in terror by now!

The smile on its face faded, but it stubbornly stayed put. Chu Fu shook his head in disappointment and sighed. "Whose child is this? No concept of public courtesy at all."

Then, the child watched as the young man’s face suddenly receded—its vision spun wildly as Chu Fu kicked it to the back of the bus. The head bounced off the rear seats a few times before settling.

Dazed for a moment, the head then let out a long, wailing cry, the only noise in the silent bus.

Ignoring the tantrum, Chu Fu sat down and made a checkmark on one of the newspapers, murmuring, "In this city, there are currently eight supernatural tales related to mirrors, and three about misfortune or curses. Hard to tell which are real."

"Let’s see, Elius," he whispered, a slight smirk curling his lips. "Are you hiding among them?"

As the bus rumbled forward, Chu Fu gazed out the window, but the grime obscured most of the view. He closed his eyes to rest.

The stream viewers, seeing him doze off, grew lively:

「Elius? That name sounds familiar. Who was she again?」

「The Ill Fate Witch from thousands of years ago. She disappeared during the black goat’s rule over fate.」

「Speaking of which, I heard the Lord of Fate recently sent an Apostle to deliver an edict, warning followers to watch for the Ill Fate Witch’s movements… Didn’t expect it to connect to this dungeon?」

「Legends say the Ill Fate Witch’s power is tied to the chaotic side of fate. Could the urban legends and dangers in this world stem from her influence?」

「That tracks.」

"That would explain why the prophet is here—he must be apprehending a fugitive on the True God's behalf."

"Wait, there's no news of him submitting to the Fate Church, and he isn’t mentioned in their religious texts either!"

"Maybe he’s forced to work under that Majesty’s power, grudgingly clocking in *(x)*."

"It’s common for those of lower standing in the same domain to serve those above them. Even if it’s not full submission, it’s still a semi-subordinate relationship where the superior holds life and death in their hands."

"Competing for divinity has always been winner takes all, loser loses everything… The fact that the white peacock survived without ascending to godhood likely means she owes Fate a life, now stuck in an endless grind of debt repayment (sigh)."

"Damn, even such a ruthless figure has to be a corporate drone—feeling a bit better about myself now."

"Bullshit! The True God controls him, and he controls us. Guess who’s really suffering?"

"Wahhhh, so we just happened to walk straight into the line of fire, huh?"

"Look on the bright side—we might get to witness a top-tier face-off! Consider it a learning experience."

"The real question is, after seeing all this, will the white peacock really leave any witnesses?"

"Uh… let’s pray. Pray that after all these years of personal refinement, her temper has cooled a bit."

"Praying."

"Praying +1."

Chu Fu had only been pretending to rest, but after secretly observing how the stream chat’s theories were aligning with his plans, he truly relaxed, letting out a satisfied sigh.

Good, good. Time to clock out for a bit.

The next phase of work could be handed over to another clone.

On the other side of the city, a ghostly reflection of Elius flickered in the mirror, her emerald-green eyes flicking open.

She wandered slowly from one mirror to another, the dark hem of her gothic dress trailing behind her like a phantasmagoric ripple.

Finally, she paused in a dimly lit room, her upper body appearing in the round mirror atop a vanity, her gaze piercing through the glass—

At an angle from the round mirror, a young student sat before a full-length mirror, carefully peeling an apple with a fruit knife. The candlelight cast an eerie glow over the apple’s skin, making it preternaturally translucent, blood-crimson, as if dripping with fresh blood.

Once the peel was cleanly removed, the student faced the mirror and nervously called out three times: "O spirit of the mirror, I beseech your presence."

The moment the third call ended, the student’s reflection blinked on its own, its face twisting into a wrong smile.

The Person in the Mirror spoke to its summoner: "This time, what is your wish…?"

Before it could finish, the student collapsed without warning, revealing the witch standing behind him.

The instant the Person in the Mirror met the witch’s gaze, a sharp sense of danger surged through its entire being—as if every nerve (if it even had nerves) screamed at it to flee.

"Ha," the witch chuckled softly, her voice dripping with glee, like a girl who had just received a beloved gift. "There you are."