Chapter 11
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Chapter 11: Title
"You mentioned opening an alternate space for the underworld requires 500,000 Fantasy Points. What if I manifest only portions of it? Say, just the Gates of the Dead and the Yellow Springs Road…"
Ye Linlang mentally calculated the exorbitant cost, deciding to renovate the underworld in phases—settling ghosts first while postponing reincarnation systems. The Six Realms of Rebirth, being rule-bound entities, demanded a staggering million points each. That’s practically robbery!
[Your requested alternate space requires 50,000 Fantasy Points. Permanent stabilization of the Gates of the Dead, Yellow Springs Road, Wangchuan River, and Fengdu Ghost City within this space requires 30,000.]
As the system responded, the palm-sized underworld model on her screen whirled violently… until a miniature obsidian gate materialized in her chamber.
Enlarged, this gate would mirror its counterpart in the holographic model perfectly.
Ye Linlang stared at the yawning portal before impulsively crossing its threshold.
Without Fantasy Points expenditure, such mystical architecture couldn’t manifest on magic-barren Blue Star. Even now, each second of the gate’s existence drained her reserves—no wonder she acted hastily.
"So this is the alternate space?" She turned to face the colossal Gates of the Dead looming behind her, their zenith lost in shadowed heights.
"My neck’s cramping."
"Descend." She averted her gaze downward.
The world shifted instantly. Ye Linlang now stood before the Ghost Gate’s towering frame, beyond which stretched the infinite Yellow Springs Road. Fiery red other shore flowers blazed along the path like bloodied embers.
Flanking the gate hung floating bronze bell arrays—a massive central bell resembling an ancient gong, beneath which dangled nine smaller counterparts. Curiously, the right array lacked one bell, creating asymmetrical dissonance.
"Still incomplete…" Ye Linlang closed her eyes, brows knitting in concentration.
The jade-green bricks beneath her feet darkened to fathomless black, acquiring a deeply ancient texture.
Unrelenting, the obsidian paving spread autonomously for hundreds of meters before stillness reclaimed the expansion.
"Automatically deduct Fantasy Points for permanent stabilization of any subsequent unspecified modifications."
[Ground modification confirmed. 300 Fantasy Points deducted.]
With a sweeping gesture, she pushed back the surrounding mists beyond the stonework, crafting spatial depth. The phantom gate above dissolved, replaced by a crimson moon whose glow transmuted gray vapors into cloud-streaked skies.
Below lingered residual mists—insufficient points prevented full external manifestation.
"Through the Gates of the Dead, down the Yellow Springs Road, into Fengdu…" Ye Linlang mentally refined her blueprint, anticipating ghosts’ astonished reactions to her meticulously crafted afterlife.
Surveying her creation, she smiled.
"Deploy the pre-designed ghost soldiers into Fengdu Ghost City. Keep them dormant until I initiate Blue Star’s Awakening of Spiritual Energy."
[100 ghost soldiers deployed. 3,000 Fantasy Points deducted.]
"Return." Her final glance lingered on the underworld.
The system’s alert greeted her homecoming:
[Master, the bell has been detected.]
"Acknowledged." Ye Linlang nodded. "System, fabricate an invulnerable virtual identity on Yunlang Weibo—the platform with maximal national usership."
"Designate the account: Tian Jizi."
"Change the profile to ‘Comprehending Heaven, Earth, and Cosmic Mysteries.’ As for the avatar…" Ye Linlang snapped her fingers.
A desk materialized before her, bearing exquisite paper of indistinguishable material, a purple-gold brush shaped like a beast’s head, and an inkstone that released Spiritual Energy to liquefy the ink.
These were no ordinary implements – even in her projected future after the Awakening of Spiritual Energy, such treasures would remain exceptionally rare.
Before she could dwell on the Fantasy Points consumed by their manifestation, her entire demeanor shifted into something unrecognizably foreign.
Closing her eyes momentarily, Ye Linlang seized the brush upon reopening them. Ink met paper as flowing characters emerged:
—Two vertical columns of archaic seal script proclaiming "Secrets of Heaven Cannot Be Disclosed," their hypnotic patterns inducing dizziness with prolonged viewing.
The calligraphy danced with ethereal grace, its transcendent elegance suggesting the hand of some immortal recluse.
She hadn’t truly created Tian Jizi, merely channeled his essence. The successful emulation left her with peculiar aftertaste of spiritual possession.
"Fascinating sensation," she murmured, discarding the brush as the borrowed persona dissipated.
"System, Fantasy Point expenditure?" Her query held routine indifference – with ample reserves, only potential shortages warranted caution. Unlike the system’s precise calculations, she couldn’t premeasure costs.
"Set this as the avatar. Keep the account hidden – his time hasn’t come." Tian Jizi must remain shadow-bound; prophets emerging prematurely risked elimination.
At minimum, his revelation demanded proper timing.
[Affirmative.]
Japan’s Bridge Princess continued her lethal spree, spreading notoriety as anticipated.
Though generated Fantasy Points barely offset maintenance costs for the phantom, the balance sufficed.
"Global preparation status?"
[Pre-deployment completed per parameters.]
Hanzhou City Police Department
"This contains the recovered bell?" Zhang Wutong examined the container holding an old bronze bell, its remaining gold paint clinging like autumn leaves.
"Matches the illustration perfectly, minus the deteriorated finish," Yangzi gingerly set the box down. "Five thousand reimbursement?"
"Approved." Zhang Wutong lifted the unremarkable artifact, frowning. What compelled the female ghost’s obsession?
"Seller’s account?"
"Third-hand acquisition, long neglected in storage. Considered worthless until our search."
"Would’ve overlooked it myself," Yangzi admitted. "Too mundane without reference."
"May I?" interjected Cui Ming.
The transferred bell underwent fresh scrutiny. After shared examination with Jiang Fei yielded nothing, Cui Ming declared:
"Case transferred to our jurisdiction. Officer Zhang will assist."
Glowering faces surrounded them. Days of labor usurped by interlopers? Just who were these mysterious claimants?
"They’re from the specialized division handling these matters," Zhang Wutong interjected, reading their expressions before the unspoken question formed.
All eyes immediately shifted to Cui Ming and Jiang Fei.
"The Dragon Group?" someone blurted out – an inevitable assumption among the younger crowd.
Zhang Wutong coughed into his fist, suppressing a knowing smile. He’d entertained the same notion upon first meeting the duo, though their prompt self-introductions had spared him the embarrassment of asking.
"Not quite," Cui Ming sighed with practiced patience, clearly accustomed to this recurring misconception.
"Focus on the other case," Zhang Wutong dismissed them with an airy gesture.
Meanwhile at the police station’s reporting desk:
The station’s calm shattered as two men stumbled into the lobby, collapsing against the reception counter in a tangle of limbs. "Arrest us!" they wailed in terror at the receptionist. "We confess!"
The veteran clerk recognized them instantly – local delinquents whose rap sheets spanned four or five arrests annually. Not prejudice, just professional familiarity.
"Silence!" The receptionist’s palm cracked against the desk. "State your business properly or face charges for disruption."
When ghost-related reports had become daily occurrences, even confessions for petty crimes barely raised eyebrows. But this routine inquiry soon proved extraordinary.
As the confession unfolded, the receptionist’s composure fractured. His trembling hand seized the intercom: "Captain Zhang? Interrogation room. Now. We’ve got leads on the torture and murder cases."
Hanzhou City’s recent crime wave included two particularly gruesome serial killings. Despite official secrecy, whispers of headless corpses had proliferated online, seeping through the tightest bureaucratic seals like spectral mist.
The interrogation room’s fluorescent lights hummed as Zhang Wutong entered with his team. Standard procedure dictated multiple officers, but paranormal elements required discretion.
"From the beginning," Zhang Wutong commanded, studying the twitching suspects.
The delinquents’ relief at being incarcerated was palpable. Since that fateful night, phantom shapes had haunted their every step – lingering, accusing.
"It’s her!" one blubbered. "The student we dumped in the river! Her ghost’s hunting us!"
Recent supernatural phenomena dominated online forums, and these tech-savvy criminals had followed every chilling update. With their "big boss" already dead, they’d awaited their turn in terrified anticipation.
Now, confronted by the ghost-hunters themselves, the men spilled their story – every damning detail laid bare beneath the interrogation room’s unblinking lights.
