Illusion

"Woo~~~"

A deep, resonant horn blast suddenly echoed in Captain Wang's ears, and the world before him began to blur.

In a daze, when he opened his eyes again, he found himself facing a boiling bronze cauldron. Bubbling steam rose from the pot, and he could see human remains churning within the scalding oil.

"Where am I??"

Captain Wang's heart tightened. He spun around, but Xu Tong and the others had vanished. Only a monk shrouded in black robes remained, walking toward him with a blood-stained blade in hand.

"Get away!"

Captain Wang's expression shifted violently as he roared, only to realize he couldn't move. Two figures had appeared at his sides, pinning his arms and hoisting him up, carrying him toward the bronze cauldron.

In his field of vision, he saw the Buddha statue behind him. Under the flickering firelight, its expression shifted between light and shadow. Its silent gaze swept down from above, devoid of any mercy, replaced by a cold, sinister glint.

"Gurgle, gurgle..."

Watching the boiling oil draw closer, Captain Wang's terror mounted. He struggled desperately, but his limbs remained unresponsive, as if he had lost all sensation. He could only watch helplessly as he was held over the iron pot and tossed in...

"Splash!!"

Icy cold water rushed into his collar.

Xu Tong slowly opened his eyes to see nothing but bottomless darkness and emptiness.

A hallucination?

Just then, several massive bubbles floated up from the depths, accompanied by a series of familiar sounds. As he stared at them, his expression turned grave.

Figures in straitjackets let out chilling laughter, their twisted faces flashing before him through the bubbles.

He remembered these faces, though some memories had blurred with the passage of time.

He turned his head, and the scene shifted. In another bubble, a delicate face appeared. The man smiled and pulled a knife from his pocket: "Xu Tong, do you know? Being alive is actually a disease. Only death can cure us."

With that, he pressed the blade to his own throat and sliced. Blood instantly stained the entire bubble red.

Seeing this, Xu Tong's face darkened, bloodshot veins appearing in his eyes as he struggled in the water.

"Xu Tong! Xu Tong! Stop sleeping! Look at that shadow... if you fall asleep, it will eat you and take your place!"

"The world is vast, but do you believe it? We are actually just a grain of sand..."

"Xu Tong, do you know? Our lives are like a book. Once you turn this chapter, there will be another. That is rebirth..."

More and more bubbles appeared before him, filled with endless, maddening whispers.

Everything he had seen and heard—chaotic memories—surfaced before his eyes.

"Bang!"

Suddenly, as a bubble burst, the world went quiet. In the dark, divine water, a pair of massive eyes slowly opened, their scarlet pupils fixed upon him.

In the darkness, the green-faced, fanged Demon King became clearer. The Demon King's arms were severed, and droplets of black blood diffused through the water.

The gaze locked onto Xu Tong. There was no sound, no movement, yet those scarlet orbs were as suffocating as an abyss.

As their gazes met, he felt a strange resonance, as if he were staring at himself through the Demon King's eyes, like looking into a mirror.

In a trance, he seemed to understand something and reached out to grab the Demon King.

But the moment his palm extended, the sound of a flute drifted into his ears.

"Wrong!"

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

He narrowed his eyes into slits: "You severed your own arms to signify 'letting go,' trying to save human hearts with a demonic heart. Yet you fail to realize that the human heart is like the sea, and the world is like a furnace. How could it be something you can just 'let go' of? You couldn't even become a Buddha yourself, yet you harbor the delusion of saving others. How did such a pathetic wretch like you end up as a Demon King?"

"Rumble..."

Seemingly provoked by his words, the demonic statue shook. Countless bubbles surged from beneath the water—more fragmented memories.

Xu Tong even saw himself pinned to a bed, forced to take sedatives.

But he was no longer moved. Instead, he watched with detachment, as if he were an outsider watching a movie that had nothing to do with him.

After a moment, he mocked, "Is that all you've got?"

He reached out and grabbed one of the bubbles. Inside was an old man with white hair, huddled in a corner, carving into the wall with bloodied, mangled fingers.

His fingertips were worn down to the bone, yet he didn't seem to notice. The drawings on the wall were stained with blood and crooked.

Watching this familiar scene, Xu Tong took a deep breath. This old man had taken good care of him in the hospital, always saving his lunch apple for him. He always claimed to be a painter, but no one could understand his work.

On that final night, he had painted frantically. The day after he finished, the old man died in his room.

"You think he was miserable because others saw him as a freak? But how could you understand? The things he painted were, in his eyes, a world of their own—a Pure Land."

As he spoke, he flipped the bubble over and squinted through it. A breathtaking landscape painting appeared in the room; those twisted lines possessed a completely different, striking impact.

He didn't understand art, but if he had to judge, this was art—just art that ordinary people couldn't comprehend.

"To hear the Way in the morning, one can die without regret in the evening. This spirit—'letting go'—I'm afraid you can't handle it!"

He gently pushed the bubble away. It plummeted, slamming heavily into the Demon King's face. With a dull thud, the Demon King's body shattered into pieces.

As the body disintegrated, a massive force surged toward him. His vision blurred, and he snapped awake, his eyes flying open.

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

Everyone's expression was exceptionally strange; Captain Wang looked as if he had been provoked by something, his face dark and silent.

"Phew! You're finally awake." Yang Guanjin gripped her flute; clearly, the sound they had heard earlier had come from her.

"That jar didn't just contain corpse oil; it was mixed with a type of poison. Anyone who smells it falls into hallucinations without realizing it. I'm different from you all—I have Miao poison protecting me, so I woke up immediately. Otherwise, I'm afraid none of us would have woken up for quite a while."

Yang Guanjin explained to them.

At this moment, Yang Zixuan plopped onto the ground, his entire body soaked in cold sweat as if he had been fished out of water.

He had seen too many people in his hallucination coming to claim his life.

These people seemed intent on dragging him into the abyss, and even now, just recalling it made his entire body break out in a cold sweat.

When he looked up at Xiong Tao, he realized this guy still hadn't woken from his hallucination. Drool was leaking from the corner of his mouth as he muttered, "Burgers, pork knuckles, noodles, cola... they're all mine!"

With a twitch of his lip, he knew Xiong Tao was a fitness coach in reality, but he hadn't expected the man's heart to be set on such things. He stepped forward and swung his palm hard.

"Smack! Smack!"

Two slaps landed, and Xiong Tao's cheeks swelled up instantly. He jolted awake, staring blankly at his empty hands. Finding the burgers and pork knuckles gone, he smacked his lips and licked them, only then realizing he had been dreaming.

"This place isn't right, we need to leave immediately!"

Seeing that Xiong Tao had woken up, Xu Tong urged everyone to leave as quickly as possible.

Hearing this, Yang Zixuan also realized something was wrong. The altar-seated Buddha was meant to be opened at a specific time to retrieve the physical body for offerings.

It didn't make sense for everyone to collectively sleepwalk every time the altar was opened; it defied logic.

At this thought, Yang Zixuan's heart tightened. "Right, let's go!"

But no sooner had he spoken than a rustling sound erupted from the surroundings, growing louder and louder. The group looked toward the noise and saw something bright red suddenly emerge from the bushes.

"What is that??"

Captain Wang froze. He saw these bright red objects, each the size of an adult's fist, constantly popping their heads out, each topped with two thin, long, hairy antennae.

One, two—in the blink of an eye, red fruits kept emerging, making the surroundings look as if they were covered in flowers.

But when Captain Wang stepped closer to take a careful look.

As he watched that bright red fruit slowly squirm, revealing sharp claws and a pitch-black, oily carapace from beneath the green leaves...

"Hiss!"

A chill seeped into his lungs, like a basin of ice-cold water poured over his head, chilling him from his crown to the soles of his feet. Those weren't fruits at all; they were clearly the heads of centipedes.