First Lady Hu suddenly made a request, leaving the ghost messenger dumbfounded. “Miss, this is against the rules.”
It would have been dismissed before, but now, the City God Temple’s system was well-established. It wasn’t possible to access the prison just because someone asked.
However, the other party was a prominent figure from Miao Gan Mountain, and they were all part of the underworld system. The ghost messenger politely said, “Are you here to visit a detainee? Is it a friend or relative? I can provide a form for you to fill out first.”
First Lady Hu, however, stared at him with a ghostly gaze and said, “Now. Open it immediately.”
“Boss, what’s going on?” Lan He, who had been casually waiting to receive information, was confused by First Lady Hu’s sudden aggression. Normally proud, she wasn’t one to trouble others—or ghosts—without cause.
“I feel like someone familiar might be inside.” First Lady Hu rubbed her nose again. Her sharp sixth sense had caught a faint sense of spying. Even her sneezes felt suspicious.
Humans might sneeze due to allergies or colds, but as a fox spirit, her sneezes were definitely a sign of being remembered.
Hearing this, Lan He suddenly had a similar thought. “No way…”
Song Futan snapped out of it, suspicion deepening. “Then let’s open it and see.”
He discreetly made a hand gesture to Lan He.
Lan He nodded subtly.
Two of Lan He’s family spirits, from the Liu clan, though not particularly clever, were enthusiastic about causing trouble. They glared fiercely at the ghost messenger.
Even Melonhead Immortal, who had been about to leave, paused curiously. “What’s going on?”
Faced with such pressure, the ghost messenger had no choice. Despite citing rules and regulations, he opted to break them under threat of violence. Forming hand seals, he pulled his hands apart, revealing a door in midair. Its iron bars were adorned with lifelike carvings of Bixi heads, emitting a red glow. Harrowing ghostly screams echoed from within.
“This… this is it. The cells are almost full. Who are you here to see? I’ll call them out.” The ghost messenger’s voice weakened as he thought to himself that if First Lady Hu was here to break someone out, he’d better flee to report it.
Lan He peered inside and saw a fiery red scene with ghostly shadows flickering. This was the fire prison.
First Lady Hu called out, “Hu Duobao, dare to answer when I call your name?”
Lan He: “………”
Really? First Lady Hu was recreating *Journey to the West* now? After some thought, he realized she must be calling Hu Si by their original name. Hu Si’s full name was actually Duobao. He’d been pondering earlier—who else could provoke First Lady Hu this much? It had to be one of Hu Si’s souls trapped inside.
This space was isolated, filled with countless guilty spirits. Their chaotic and menacing energy made it difficult to identify anyone specifically. If Hu Si had truly sneaked in, it would indeed be hard to locate them…
Lan He hadn’t yet figured out whether this was feasible when he suddenly heard Hu Si’s voice clearly from within. It was full of energy, not at all like someone with just one remaining soul fragment. “Why wouldn’t I dare?”
“So, it’s you.” First Lady Hu smirked coldly. Hu Si’s obsession with her was incredibly strong. Normally, they could suppress it, but Hu Si’s attempt to secretly observe First Lady Hu had backfired, making them detectable.
This was an instinctive reaction, something Hu Si couldn’t control.
“Open the door. I’ll drag her out myself,” First Lady Hu said, rolling up her sleeves.
“No need to trouble yourself.” The Bixi carving on the door opened its mouth, and with a click, the door swung open. A snow-white, jade-like hand reached out from within. Its slender fingers had strikingly red nails.
Everyone present was stunned. Lan He, realizing what was happening, reached for the soul-reaping rope at his waist. Before he could react, a sudden dizziness overcame him, and he fell into a soft place.
What the…?
Lan He found his face buried in smooth fabric. Raising his head, he saw he was now in a modern Chinese-style bedroom. Looking around, he realized the others were nowhere to be seen.
Damn it, an illusion!
Even with First Lady Hu present, Hu Si had managed to pull him into a dreamscape?
Lan He thought about burning fingernails, but after fumbling around his body, he was suddenly at a loss. At this moment, the bedroom door opened, and a man and a woman in sharp business suits walked in. “Sir, you’re awake.”
“Oh… yes, I’m awake.” Lan He’s hand was already at his waist, but he didn’t even know what he was looking for. He randomly tugged at the comfortable pajamas he was wearing. “What time is it now?”
“Nine o’clock.” The woman entered the walk-in closet to select clothes for Lan He, while the man helped him up.
“No need, no need.” Lan He thought to himself that he wasn’t disabled. After freshening up, he changed into a black long robe. Looking at himself in the mirror, his somewhat youthful face appeared much more composed with the hairstyle and outfit.
Lan He still felt a bit groggy, as if he had just woken up and forgotten many things. Following the two people out, he saw a traditional Chinese garden through the window—arched bridges over flowing water, rockeries, octagonal pavilions, and flourishing plants.
“…What’s my identity?” Lan He asked, bewildered.
“Have you forgotten?” The woman covered her mouth and laughed lightly. “You’re the National Advisor.”
Lan He: “???!”
Shocked, Lan He exclaimed, “I’m not acting anymore?!”
National Advisor? What kind of profession was this?!
“What do you mean by acting?” The woman, confused, glanced out into the courtyard and said, “Oh dear, Lord 13 and Lady 15 have awoken from hibernation.”
Lan He looked over and saw a silver-white water snake swimming up from the courtyard pond. By the maple tree on the shore, a black snake poked its head out. “This dragon is hungry. Bring the incense!”
That Liu 13—always thinking about food.
“I’ll do it.” Lan He instinctively offered.
“No need for you to trouble yourself.” The woman made a phone call, and soon a group of people brought in a huge incense mountain, placing it before Liu 13, their eyes filled with reverence.
As Lan He descended the stairs, he realized the house was a villa styled like a classical garden, so spacious he wouldn’t believe it was in Beijing without checking the location. Every detail screamed wealth. Besides the main courtyard, there was a smaller, sunken courtyard where Bai Wu lived alone.
Hu 79 was snoring on the living room sofa, while their ancestral tablets were placed in a well-lit study with glass walls. Among them, First Lady Hu’s tablet was also there, though her actual presence was absent.
The air of wealth and leisure made it feel like there was nothing to worry about. Sitting in the dining room, Lan He had breakfast—a traditional Hunan-style meal of soup noodles with shredded pork and green peppers, topped with a poached egg and pickled beans.
“National Advisor…” Lan He murmured as he ate, pondering that he seemed quite impressive.
“Sir, now that Lord 13 is awake, should we take him along to inspect the Feng Shui today?” the woman asked.
“Oh, sure.” Lan He replied. “What are we inspecting today?”
“The site for the new airport. By the way, last month you helped the Ministry of Public Security locate a fugitive. They sent a plaque as thanks. Should we store it in the miscellaneous room as usual?”
Lan He: “…Cough, cough!”
He waved dismissively. “Do whatever you think is best.”
After finishing his meal and resting a bit, Lan He took a few family spirits with him and headed out. They drove to the outskirts, the proposed airport site. Passersby stopped to glance at their vehicle, some even bowing in respect. Along the roadside, Lan He noticed massive posters featuring his family spirits.
“They have endorsements, too?” Lan He saw Hu 79 modeling jewelry, while Bai Wu seemed to endorse glasses and sunglasses. Chang Yueyuan advertised real estate with the slogan: “Where this king resides, the land is a dragon vein!”
Quite the money-makers.
Sitting in the car, Lan He unconsciously rubbed his wrist, feeling like he had forgotten something.
Besides Lan He’s assistants, officials from relevant departments were on site as well. They addressed Lan He as “National Advisor” with utmost reverence, recounting his past achievements and showering him with praise.
“Oh, what impressed me most was when the National Advisor traveled to Africa to summon rain. The skill and poise of your rituals not only moved our African brothers, strengthening the bond between two nations, but also inspired me in front of my television! Truly a savior for all people!”
“Ah, in my opinion, it was during the World Cup when the National Advisor blessed the Chinese team that brought me to tears…”
Lan He: “………”
Did that… happen?
Maybe…?
When they mentioned it, Lan He felt it vaguely rang a bell, though his memory was foggy. Perhaps it was because he hadn’t rested well the previous night. Everything felt muddled today, so he could only go along with the conversation.
At this moment, someone else approached, looking a bit embarrassed. “This airport’s Feng Shui is an important matter, so, actually…”
“Actually, what?”
“Actually, Minister Lin also invited a master from Juehui Temple.”
Lan He’s assistant immediately took on a sarcastic tone, which made Lan He feel a strange sense of nostalgia (?). “Oh, really? And you’re telling us now? Are you implying we’re petty and can’t handle competition?”
The person hastily replied, “No, no, not at all. This monk isn’t here for Feng Shui, only to see if there are wandering spirits that need salvation.”
“What, are you saying we can’t perform salvation rites?” The assistant refused to let it go.
Hu 79 immediately jumped in, shouting, “You looking down on us? Let’s beat them up!”
She bared her sharp teeth, scaring the person so much that their soul nearly left their body.
“Let it go.” For some reason, when Lan He heard “Juehui Temple,” his reaction was different from the others’. He didn’t feel angry, but rather a little expectant.
The assistant, however, became anxious and whispered to Lan He, “You don’t mind at all? Clearly, they’re trying to curry favor with Juehui Temple because of the news that Chan Buddhism is about to thrive again. Everyone knows the prophecy: Chan Buddhism, with its five branches—Linji, Guiyang, Caodong, Yunmen, and Fayan—will see a resurgence starting with Juehui Temple in the next fifty years. Last year, their merchandise was selling like crazy!”
Lan He: “…Oh, really?”
As the assistant kept rambling, a business car arrived.
Lan He took a closer look. The license plate read *Fo A.JH108*. He turned to look at the car he had arrived in, realizing it also had a special license plate starting with *Dao A*. Upon closer inspection, it even had a small trigrams emblem. Similarly, the *Fo A* plate bore a lotus symbol.
Lan He: “???”
For some reason, he felt the situation was absurd…
The *Fo A* car came to a stop, and from the back seat stepped out a young monk dressed in a black Haiqing robe. Though he was bald, his features were handsome, and his demeanor serene.
“He’s here. This is Master Futan, the new abbot of Juehui Temple. His inauguration ceremony was just last month,” someone explained to Lan He.
Lan He looked at the monk and felt something was off, as if the monk were missing something.
The monk pressed his palms together in greeting. “National Advisor.”
“Abbot…” Monks couldn’t shake hands, so Lan He, feeling a vague sense of loss, returned the greeting from a meter away.
Master Futan nodded slightly at Lan He. “This humble monk wishes to find a higher vantage point. What about you, National Advisor?”
Lan He, however, was staring at Futan’s bare wrist in a daze.
Something’s wrong. This isn’t right…
But he couldn’t put it into words. The other was a Chan Buddhist monk, while he represented the Daoist sect. Although they both worked for the nation and outwardly maintained harmony, their paths were fundamentally different. Lan He couldn’t just give in to his inexplicable impulse and grab the abbot’s hand.
“I—I’ll go take a look as well.” Lan He felt increasingly unsettled today. Where was this strange impulse coming from?
“Something’s off, something’s off, something’s definitely off.”
Someone finally spoke up.
Lan He turned to look—it was Liu 13.
He shouted out the question Lan He had been silently grappling with, pointing at Master Futan. “You’re not right!”
Master Futan replied softly, “What seems to be the problem?”
I feel the same way. There should be a red mark on his hand, Lan He thought to himself.
Liu 13 continued, “You meet the National Advisor, and you don’t even want to kiss him? That’s outrageous!”
—Though he couldn’t figure out exactly what was wrong, Liu 13, being Liu 13, would rather make something up and shout it out. His words threw everyone else into a panic.
Even Lan He’s assistant turned pale. “Lord 13, what nonsense are you saying?!”
Lan He, however, felt an urge to agree with Liu 13 but couldn’t articulate why. That was until he felt a sharp sting on his hand. Looking down, he suddenly realized the truth—this was all fake!
…
When he looked up again, the airport site, the *Fo A* car, and Master Futan were all gone. It was as if he had woken from a long dream. He was back at the City God Temple.
Song Futan stood nearby, holding a needle belonging to Bai Wu. It must have been this needle that had snapped him out of it. Liu 13 and the others also appeared freshly awakened, their faces filled with disbelief.
The dream had been so vivid that Lan He couldn’t help but check the time. Although he had spent more than half a day in the dream, only half an hour had passed in reality. It was now past midnight.
Meanwhile, across Beijing, movie theaters were filled with audiences eagerly awaiting the familiar logo. The film *Ghostly Charm* had just begun, and a young man with dimples appeared on the big screen, stepping into the world of ghosts and spirits.
“You… didn’t become a monk?” Lan He was still a little dazed.
“What did you see? That shouldn’t have been me,” Song Futan replied, having not been drawn into the illusion.
First Lady Hu had also woken up. Her dreamscape must have been different from Lan He’s. Hu Si likely used a divide-and-conquer strategy. Nearby, the ghost messenger and Melonhead Immortal, without Song Futan’s help, remained standing in place, frozen, as if still trapped in their illusions.
Lan He felt a sharp sense of alarm. He realized that this illusion was even more terrifying than Hu Si’s usual sinister and horrifying creations. This time, the dream had offered him everything—admiration, reverence, a perfect life. If he hadn’t felt something was wrong and been awakened, he might have been trapped in it forever, unable to escape.
“Hu Duobao, you’re quite something,” First Lady Hu said casually, though her ears twitched with tension. It was clear she was on high alert. Hu Si had always been beneath her, but this time, Hu Si had managed to drag even her into an illusion.
“That prison door is useless against her,” Lan He recalled what he had seen before falling into the illusion. “The Hu clan excels at illusions. She must have tricked the ghost messenger from the start and slipped into the prison. The most dangerous place is often the safest. And just now, she even managed to ensnare First Lady Hu. Even with only one soul fragment left, she’s still this powerful?”
He looked to First Lady Hu for her analysis.
Song Futan, however, interjected, “No, something’s not right…” Watching Hu Si come and go from the prison as if it were her own domain only deepened his suspicions.
First Lady Hu’s expression darkened, as if realizing something.
Lan He glanced at them, his unease growing.
Song Futan’s gaze shifted to the main altar’s deity statue. Over the past two years, though their cases had been resolved successfully, with danger but no lasting harm, the only visible change was the dramatic increase in incense offerings across Beijing—from Juehui Temple to Dongyue Temple, from Miao Gan Mountain to the City God Temple.
Hu Si, now hunched over on the ground, rested her chin on her hand and murmured, “But isn’t it true that those who understand deception best are not spirits, but gods?”
Lan He froze.
At that moment, in the cinema, the movie had reached the scene where “Xiao Lai” first entered a temple.
He knelt reverently before a dilapidated deity statue. The statue was massive, casting a shadow that obscured half of his face, leaving a long shadow of his lashes under his eyes. He said, “Everywhere is divine, yet nowhere is.”
Before his eyes, Lan He saw the curling incense smoke. Amid it stood a massive, awe-inspiring bronze statue of a god, draped in a red dragon robe. The deity sat on its throne, eyes lowered, as if constantly watching over the world’s good and evil, meeting the gaze of every believer, knowing their innermost thoughts.
A chill ran through Lan He’s heart. Hu Si’s madness—it had been driven by the manipulation of a god.