Illusion

"Woooo~~~"

A deep, heavy horn suddenly echoed in Captain Wang's ears. The scene before his eyes began to blur.

In a daze, when he opened his eyes again, he found a boiling bronze pot in front of him. Steam bubbled up from inside, and human corpses rolled around in the boiling oil.

"Where am I?"

Captain Wang's heart tightened. He spun around, only to find that Xu Tong and the others had vanished. The only person there was a monk shrouded in a black robe, holding a bloodstained blade as he slowly walked toward him.

"Get away!"

Captain Wang's expression changed drastically. He shouted, only to discover that he couldn't move. Somehow, two figures had appeared beside him, one on either side, holding him by the arms and lifting him up as they carried him toward the bronze pot.

In the firelight, he saw the Buddha statue behind him, its expression shifting between light and shadow. Its silent gaze swept down at him from above. There was no longer any mercy in its eyes—only a sinister, chilling gleam.

"Gurgle..."

As the boiling pot of oil drew closer, Captain Wang's expression grew more and more terrified. He struggled desperately, but his limbs wouldn't move at all, as if he'd lost all feeling. All he could do was watch helplessly as they carried him to the pot and tossed him in.

"Splash!!"

Icy water instantly poured down the collar of Xu Tong's clothes.

Xu Tong slowly opened his eyes. Before him stretched only bottomless darkness and emptiness.

An illusion?

At that moment, several enormous bubbles rose from the bottom of the water with a gurgle. Familiar voices came from within them. He looked over, and his expression immediately turned serious.

Some figures in straitjackets let out chilling laughter. Their twisted faces flashed before him through the bubbles.

He remembered their faces, though time had blurred some of those memories.

He turned his head, and the scene shifted again. Another bubble revealed a handsome face. The man smiled and pulled a knife from his pocket. "Xu Tong, you know what? Being alive is actually a kind of sickness. Only death can cure us."

As he spoke, he pressed the knife to his neck and drew it lightly across. Blood instantly filled the entire bubble.

Xu Tong's expression grew grimmer. Threads of red appeared in his eyes as he struggled in the water.

"Xu Tong! Xu Tong! Don't fall asleep! Look at that shadow... If you fall asleep, he'll eat you and take your place!"

"The world is vast, but do you believe that we're actually just a grain of sand..."

"Xu Tong, you know, our lives are like a book. When one chapter ends, there's another. That's what rebirth is..."

More and more bubbles appeared before him, carrying countless rambling voices.

The people he'd seen, the things he'd heard—chaotic memories kept resurfacing before his eyes.

"Bang!"

Suddenly, a bubble burst, and the world fell silent. In the dark divine water, a pair of enormous eyes slowly opened. Their scarlet pupils fixed on him.

In the darkness, the Demon King's green face and fangs grew clearer. Both its arms had been severed, and drops of black blood spread through the water.

Its gaze remained fixed on Xu Tong. It made no sound or movement, but its scarlet eyes were like a bottomless abyss, suffocating to behold.

Their eyes met for a moment, and he felt a strange connection, as if he were looking at himself through the Demon King's eyes, like gazing into a mirror.

In a daze, he seemed to understand something. He reached out toward the Demon King before him.

But the instant he extended his hand, a flute sounded by his ear.

"No!"

Hearing the flute, Xu Tong abruptly pulled his hand back and looked up at the demon statue before him.

His eyes narrowed to slits. "You severed your own arms to show that you'd let go, and you try to use your demonic heart to understand people's hearts. But you don't know that the human heart is like the sea, and the human world is like a furnace. You can't just let go because you say so. You couldn't become a Buddha yourself, yet you still want to help others become Buddhas. How did such a pathetic loser end up among the Demon Kings?"

"Rumble..."

As if provoked by his words, the demon statue trembled. Countless bubbles rose from below, carrying even more fragments of memory.

Xu Tong even saw a scene of himself being held down on a bed and forcibly injected with a sedative.

But it no longer affected him. Instead, he watched calmly, as if he were an outsider viewing a movie that had nothing to do with him.

After a moment, he sneered. "That's all you've got?"

As he spoke, he reached out and grabbed one of the bubbles. Inside was a white-haired old man, crouched in a corner, using his bloody hands to draw and write on the wall.

The tips of his fingers had been worn down to the bone, but he seemed not to notice. The drawings on the wall were smeared with blood, crooked and twisted.

Seeing the familiar scene, Xu Tong took a deep breath. The old man had always looked after him in the hospital. He would save his apple from lunch for Xu Tong. He always said he was a painter, though no one could understand his work.

That night, he suddenly began painting frantically. The day after he finished the painting, he died in his hospital room.

"Do you think he suffered because everyone else saw him as a freak? How could you understand? In his eyes, what he painted was a world of its own, a land of supreme bliss."

As he spoke, he turned the bubble around and peered through it with one eye. A breathtaking landscape painting appeared in the room. Its twisted lines created an entirely different kind of impact.

He didn't know anything about art, but if he had to judge, this was art—art beyond ordinary people's understanding.

"If you hear the Way in the morning, you can die content in the evening. That kind of spirit—I can let go of it. I just don't know if you can take it!"

As he spoke, he gently pushed the bubble away. The bubble, which had been floating upward, suddenly plunged down and slammed into the Demon King's face. With a muffled thud, the Demon King's body shattered into pieces.

The instant the Demon King's body broke apart, a tremendous force swept over him. His vision blurred, and his tightly shut eyes snapped open.

The five of them were still standing before the Buddha statue.

But each of them had a strange expression. Captain Wang seemed to have been rattled by something; he stood there with a dark look on his face, not saying a word.

"Phew!!! You're finally awake." Yang Guanjin held a flute. The flute music they'd heard earlier had clearly come from her.

"That jar really wasn't filled with nothing but Corpse Oil. It was mixed with some kind of poison, too. Anyone who breathed it in would unknowingly fall into an illusion. I'm different from you—I had Miao Gu protecting me, so I woke up right away. Otherwise, we might've been stuck asleep for quite a while."

Yang Guanjin explained.

Just then, Yang Zixuan dropped to the ground. He was drenched in cold sweat, as if he'd just been pulled out of the water.

He'd seen far too many people coming to claim his life in the illusion.

They'd seemed intent on dragging him into the abyss. Even now, thinking about it made him break out in a cold sweat.

When he looked up again, he saw that Xiong Tao still hadn't come out of the illusion. Drool hung from the corner of his mouth as he mumbled, "Hamburgers, pork knuckles, noodles, cola... They're all mine!"

Yang Zixuan's mouth twitched. He knew Xiong Tao was a personal trainer in real life, but he'd never expected the things he secretly longed for to be those. He stepped forward and slapped him hard.

"Smack! Smack!!"

After two slaps, Xiong Tao's cheeks swelled up, and he jolted awake. He stared blankly at his empty hands. The hamburger was gone, and so were the pork knuckles. He smacked his lips and licked them, then realized he'd been dreaming.

"This place is wrong. We need to get out of here!"

Seeing that Xiong Tao had woken up, Xu Tong immediately urged everyone to leave.

At his words, Yang Zixuan also realized something was wrong. The Buddha of the Jar Seating ritual was meant to be opened after a set time, so the enshrined body could be taken out.

They couldn't possibly all sleepwalk every time they opened the jar. That made no sense.

Thinking of this, Yang Zixuan's heart tightened. "Right. Let's get out of here!"

But as soon as he finished speaking, a rustling sound came from all around them. It grew louder and louder. They followed the sound and saw something bright red suddenly emerge from the bushes.

"What's that?"

Captain Wang froze. The bright-red things were each about as big as an adult. One after another, they poked their heads out, each with two long, thin antennae.

One, two—in the blink of an eye, red fruits kept popping up. Soon the area looked as if it were covered in flowers.

But when Captain Wang moved closer for a better look—

He saw the bright-red fruit slowly wriggle. Sharp claws and a glossy black shell emerged from beneath its green leaves...

"Hiss!"

A chill seemed to pour into his lungs. It felt as though a basin of ice water had been dumped over his head, freezing him from head to toe. Those weren't fruits at all—they were centipede heads.