The Gambling Den, the Little Girl Who Prayed to the Wrong God

The red thread was damp. He Zhuoming reached up and touched her forehead, and her fingers came away stained with blood.

She screamed, "Xu Feixian! What is this?!"

Xu Feixian climbed up from the smoke-blackened wooden platform and tried to stop her. "Don't touch that thread. If you wipe off the black dog's blood on it, it won't work anymore."

He Zhuoming ducked under the tangle of red threads, rushed up to Xu Feixian, and furiously wiped her hands on the other girl's sleeve.

Xu Feixian glanced at her now-smudged sleeve, thinking He Zhuoming was being childish, but couldn't be bothered to argue. She patted the empty spot beside her. "Since you're here, want to come up and roast a bit too?"

The camphor branches gave off a rich, smoky fragrance that had soaked into Xu Feixian from head to toe.

He Zhuoming pulled the wooden box of snacks from her bag and tossed it to her, while pinching her nose and stepping back a few paces. "No way! What is all this? Why black dog's blood... no wonder it stinks."

Xu Feixian opened the snack box and started eating, completely at ease. "To ward off evil."

"Red cotton thread soaked in black dog's blood, cinnabar talismans for warding off spirits, and burning camphor branches from a temporary shrine—this combo works well. I've been fumigating since midnight last night, and I'm just about recovered now. If you ever get haunted, you can try it too."

Camphor trees were favored by the Dao Lord of the Two Principles, so the camphor trees growing in the True Deity's temple were highly effective at warding off evil and driving away malicious spirits and demons.

Hearing this, He Zhuoming let go of her nose and cautiously approached the wooden platform, leaning on it with both hands. "You were haunted? How could you get haunted? When we were together yesterday, you were perfectly fine!"

Xu Feixian puffed out her cheeks, nodding while eating. She forced down the snack before speaking. "When I came back yesterday... ah."

Only now, as she tried to recall, did Xu Feixian remember that she'd forgotten to tell Lin Qingyun about Huang Mibo!

He Zhuoming: "What happened when you came back?"

Xu Feixian blinked, her gaze losing its usual sharpness. Looking a little guilty, she recounted how she'd stumbled into a betting station the night before and forgotten to find Lin Qingyun—though she didn't mention that she'd also gambled and lost all her money, only that she'd run into Huang Mibo and suspected that her sudden urge to bet on the arena match had been odd, possibly a sign of being haunted.

He Zhuoming's face turned serious. "You didn't gamble, did you?"

Xu Feixian: "..."

He Zhuoming's eyes widened. "You gambled?!"

Xu Feixian sighed, tore a cinnabar talisman off the wall, and slapped it onto her forehead. "I was haunted," she added by way of explanation.

He Zhuoming didn't really believe in hauntings—what kind of Corrupted Deity would specifically target people to make them gamble? Gambling wasn't like making a wish; what could a Corrupted Deity possibly gain from it?

She gravely shared the news she'd heard on the way: a gambler who'd killed his fellow disciple. She hoped to use it as a warning to Xu Feixian about the dangers of gambling.

After listening, Xu Feixian tore the talisman off her forehead. "Are you sure they were Yuqing Sect disciples? Killed a fellow disciple over a gambling loss?"

He Zhuoming answered truthfully, "That's what the musicians in the crowd told me."

Xu Feixian's expression changed, and she jumped down from the platform. "Let's go! We need to get to the Demon Suppression Bureau—"

Before she could finish, a scream echoed faintly from outside the room.

The young Xuanhua Cave disciples had been given four rooms, divided by gender. Since Xu Feixian didn't get along with them, she'd voluntarily moved into a storage room in a remote corner of the palace, turning it into a private room.

This room was far from the others—so far that Xu Feixian had been fumigating branches half the night without any of the other Xuanhua Cave disciples noticing.

But this scream was loud enough to be heard even from inside the room, which said a lot about how much the person had yelled.

He Zhuoming exchanged a glance with Xu Feixian, and the two ran out of the room—He Zhuoming didn't know the way, so she lagged half a step behind Xu Feixian as they rushed toward a side hall where the sound had come from.

They arrived late, and people had already gathered inside and outside the hall.

Before the crowd got any bigger, He Zhuoming squeezed in for a look: through the main entrance was a small reception hall, and through a door on the left was the bedroom.

There were four beds in the bedroom. On the bed by the window lay a young woman, fully dressed, her face ashen. She was clearly dead, but her eyes were wide open, and the bedding around her head was stained with dried blood.

It was Huang Mibo.

Strangely, despite being dead, her expression wasn't twisted in terror. In fact, she wore a brilliant, radiant smile.

Five middle-aged people in colorful robes stood around the bed, two women and three men, arranged in a starlike formation around a square-faced, long-bearded Daoist.

Beside the Daoist, a trembling female disciple choked out, "...When I got up to wash this morning, I saw A-Mi lying half off the bed, her legs hanging down, shoes still on. I thought it was odd and was about to call her... but when I got close, I saw she was already... already dead..."

The woman with flowers in her hair frowned and asked, "You were with her all night. Didn't you notice anything unusual?"

The female disciple quickly shook her head, defending herself. "When we went to sleep last night, A-Mi wasn't in the room yet! I—we don't know when she came back."

Several other roommates chimed in, chattering, "She went out in the afternoon and didn't tell us where."

"Didn't she say she was going to see Senior Brother Lin?"

"Right, she must have gone to see Senior Brother Lin... A-Mi always pestered Senior Brother Lin, and the day before yesterday he even came to talk to her. We thought—"

...

The female disciples had assumed that Huang Mibo had finally managed to win over her crush with her infatuation and had gone out at night to meet her lover.

Just then, the person who'd been kneeling by the bed examining the body stood up and walked over to the long-bearded Daoist, his face grim. "Cause of death is sudden cardiac arrest from excessive emotion, but A-Mi's ears... they've been cut off."

He gestured, tracing a line from his own ear to his cheekbone. "From the outer to inner part, all carved out. Judging by the wound and the blood, it was done before she died."

The long-bearded Daoist was silent for a long moment, his jaw muscles twitching slightly, before he forced out a dry question. "And her soul?"

The examiner lowered his head, not daring to meet his gaze. "No soul."

The Daoist's voice shot up. "What do you mean, no soul?! Can the soul just die along with the body when the flesh perishes?!"

His cultivation was deep, and his voice boomed like a great bell, sending a sharp pain through He Zhuoming's ears—Xu Feixian appeared behind her like a ghost, clamping her hands over He Zhuoming's ears.

It was meant to cover her ears, but Xu Feixian was so forceful that it ended up more like sandwiching He Zhuoming's head between her palms.

That was exactly what Xu Feixian wanted. Using her grip, she dragged He Zhuoming backward and pulled her out of the scene to the outside of the room.

He Zhuoming looked up at her in a daze. "What are you doing?"

Xu Feixian frowned, her face stern, and whispered, "The sect master just lost his daughter. You're an outsider, and you're trying to get closer? Do you have a death wish?"

At that moment, a rush of footsteps approached—Xu Feixian let go of He Zhuoming's ears, and they both turned to see a squad of Demon Suppression Bureau officers and white-robed musicians walking in.

The Xuanhua Cave disciples gathered at the door quickly parted, clearing a path for them.

As luck would have it, He Zhuoming spotted the older Lin Qingyun among the officers.

The few times she'd seen Lin Qingyun before, he'd always been in plain clothes, but this time he was in formal robes. It was the first time He Zhuoming had seen the formal uniform of the Moyi Demon Suppression Bureau—completely different from Wen County's. Just from the fabric, you could tell the Moyi bureau had way more money.

But what finally caught He Zhuoming's attention wasn't the uniforms—it was the delicate wooden badges hanging at their waists. Every officer wore one, carved with crabapple blossoms and names.

Lin Qingyun didn't speak to them. He passed by with barely a glance, playing the part of someone who didn't know them at all.

Taking advantage of the fact that everyone's attention was on the officers and musicians, Xu Feixian nudged He Zhuoming's arm and whispered, "Get out of here. Go back to the main hall of the Divine Palace. No matter how chaotic the east gets, they wouldn't dare go near the main hall."

He Zhuoming blinked, but the question she asked was completely unrelated, and it left Xu Feixian baffled: "Feixian, what were those wooden badges the officers were wearing?"

Xu Feixian said, "...The Demon Suppression Bureau badges. What else could they be?"

She grew worried and reached out to touch He Zhuoming's forehead. "You're not scared senseless by the corpse, are you? Or did the sect master's booming voice rattle your brains?"

He Zhuoming: "Would the Pear Garden musicians have those kind of wooden badges too?"

Xu Feixian: "Of course not! Those are exclusive to the Moyi Demon Suppression Bureau officers. The Pear Garden badge you have yourself is completely different from the bureau's... Stop asking about such random things—I have a feeling that the east side is about to erupt. Go now!"

He Zhuoming's mind was in a whirl, but with Xu Feixian urging her, she quietly slipped away.

As she stepped out the door, she realized the other halls were in chaos too. The corridors were packed with people, every face grim. Afraid of bumping into someone head-on, He Zhuoming hugged the wall, nervously gripping the hilt of her wooden sword.

Her arm was tense. If anyone had collided with her, she'd have whipped out the sword and given them a whack—fortunately that didn't happen. She hugged the wall carefully, and as she passed other halls, she caught fragments of conversation.

"Lost too much money at the betting station, even his weapon. Couldn't take it last night and killed himself."

"Someone bet five hundred dark crystal stones on him to win, but he lost. The bettor lost his entire fortune and came back in the dead of night to take revenge."

"Borrowed six hundred taels from a Taixu Temple disciple. Didn't win back the principal and dropped dead that very night."

...

The more He Zhuoming heard, the more terrified she became. She clapped her hands over her ears and broke into a run.

Though the badge puzzled her, at this moment all she wanted was to get back to Lin Qingyun. She wanted to nestle against him, tell him about all the chaos outside, how everyone had gone mad over gambling.

Lin Qingyun would listen, then laugh, say something nonsensical in his carefree way, and then tell He Zhuoming it didn't matter, it wasn't a big deal, and instead they should discuss how to find a way home for her... something like that.

The closer He Zhuoming got to the main hall, the fewer people she encountered.

Gradually, she was the only one left in the corridor. It was a bright summer day, but the sunlight felt strangely cold.

She walked and walked. He Zhuoming was tired, and she felt she'd been walking for a very long time, so she looked up ahead—but she still couldn't see the towering silhouette of the main hall.

Something was off.

Normally, it never took her this long to get back to the main hall. After so long, even if she hadn't reached it, she should at least have spotted its layered, glasslike, glittering eaves.

But now all she saw were the walls of the corridor, with brilliant red crabapple blossoms blooming atop them like clusters of fire burning on the wall tops.

A few steps ahead was a side hall, its door half open, with a red lantern hanging on each side.

The left lantern read: "Certain Wins on Every Bet."

The right lantern read: "Know When to Quit."

The mere sight of the word "bet" made He Zhuoming uncomfortable. But she was too tired to keep going, so she sat down on the steps before the door—when suddenly, from behind the half-open door, an incredibly lively racket erupted!

Shouts, the cheers of winners, and the groans of losers, all mixed together, poured through the crack like a cold, eerie wave washing over the back of He Zhuoming's neck.

She jumped up in alarm and ran away without looking back. As she ran, she recalled what Xu Feixian had said.

Now He Zhuoming believed that Xu Feixian had really been haunted—because in that instant, when she heard the sound, a thought had crossed her mind: Sounds kind of fun, should I...

Once she realized what she'd been about to think, He Zhuoming felt a chill run down her spine, wishing she could sprout two more legs!

She kept running. Then, another half-open side door appeared before her, again with red lanterns on either side.

The left lantern read: "Certain Wins on Every Bet."

The right lantern read: "Know When to Quit."

He Zhuoming ran even faster, crying as she ran, thinking: Aren't ghosts and demons supposed to come out at night? It's still broad daylight! What kind of ghost is this!

Isn't this the Earth Immortal's Divine Palace? Why isn't the Earth Immortal doing anything about it!

As she ran, she cursed the Earth Immortal in her mind, then cursed Lin Qingyun too—he'd said the Earth Immortal was powerful and would protect her, but it wasn't working at all!

She was running with all her might when her foot caught on something unexpectedly.

She wailed and fell, and somehow tumbled right into that side hall. The half-open door swung fully open when she hit it. She stumbled a few steps, gasping for breath, and looked up.

The hall was packed with people, all crammed around gambling tables. Voices shouted, "Big! Small!" and "One! Six!" The gamblers were men and women, young and middle-aged—their faces purple and flushed, veins bulging. They were human, yet they looked like a pack of vicious ghosts, roaring and shoving one another.

This scene terrified He Zhuoming far more than when she'd been locked up in the village.

Because at least the village had been quiet—the villagers, numbed beyond feeling, had seemed drained of human desire.

And back then, she'd been so hungry that her mind was fuzzy most of the time, focused only on food, leaving no room for fear.

But here in this gambling den, desire was too murky, too thick. Every gambler's face was twisted into a grotesque mask, their dense feverishness like a pot of soup rotting and breeding maggots in the summer heat, thick enough to make your stomach cramp.

At times like this, He Zhuoming couldn't cry. She gagged and shoved through the crowd, desperate to find an exit.

The harder she pushed, the more the crowd pressed in. It felt like an invisible hand was propelling her deeper into the den.

At the far end of the gambling hall, it was still noisy, but not from a crowd—in fact, no one was there at all. The sound came from the gambling tables she'd just pushed through, but it was so loud that it seemed to have no distance, as if drums and gongs were going off right in her ear.

It was eerie. The noise was deafening, but the space around her was empty, with only a waist-high flower platform.

Crimson drapes hung from the ceiling, overlapping and half-covering the platform. Sitting cross-legged on it was a blurry figure—the drapes parted on their own, and the figure suddenly came into sharp focus.

It was Lin Qingyun.

Not the older Lin Qingyun, but the one young enough for He Zhuoming to call him big brother.

He wore a crimson robe, chin propped on one hand. No white silk covered his eyes, and he was smiling so wide his eyes curved into crescents. A pair of symmetrical dimples sat adorably on his cheeks.

He Zhuoming stared at him, numb, and even at her slowest she realized something was wrong.

Why was Lin Qingyun here? Why were his eyes healed? Hadn't he said he wouldn't leave that room until the Day of Divine Celebration was over?

The young man smiled and spoke, his voice light and cheerful. "I've already granted your wish. Now it's time to pay the price, little girl who prayed to the wrong god."