Zhang Yuanqing had never expected that the Dodder Garden, which demanded swift passage, and the thick fog, which prohibited any movement, would trigger at the exact same time. It was as if Lady Luck had heard the Palace Master of Halting Slaughter's earlier threats and was secretly taking her revenge.
Without the slightest hesitation, he opened his inventory and slipped the azure gloves onto both hands.
*Whoosh—*
Howling gales radiated outward with him at the center, the thick fog billowing and surging with the air currents.
The gale, powerful enough to bend tree trunks, blew for a long while, sweeping away vast swathes of fog. Yet more fog always rolled in to fill the void, as if an inexhaustible supply lay beyond.
After a dozen seconds, Zhang Yuanqing stopped, his expression growing grave.
The Gale Gloves, specifically suited to countering thick fog, had failed. This was unprecedented, indicating that the fog was of an exceptionally high tier, surpassing the limits of a Saint-grade item.
*Damn it! In the thick fog, you can neither speak nor move. But if I stay frozen like a block of wood, the danger of the Dodder Garden is guaranteed to strike. What do I do? What do I do?!* Zhang Yuanqing's anxiety soared.
With the wind dying down, the fog regained its calm, flowing quietly like trickling streams and drifting languidly like ribbons of gauze.
Silence enveloped his surroundings. Visibility dropped below a meter; Zhang Yuanqing could no longer see Commandery Princess Yinyao or the Palace Master of Halting Slaughter. Nothing remained around him except a vast expanse of white.
He dared not call out to either of them, nor did he dare use a Night Walker's unique method to "speak." The rule stated one could not speak in the thick fog, and "cannot speak" in the Employee Code of Conduct likely prohibited communication in any sense of the word.
It was not merely restricted to literal vocal speech. That level of absolute strictness was fitting for a Dominator-tier rule-based item.
Amid the soundless stillness, he noticed a disturbance in the fog ahead. A bizarre, towering silhouette flickered in and out of view, seemingly drawing closer to him without making the faintest sound.
As the silhouette neared, Zhang Yuanqing saw it with increasing clarity... It was a three-meter-tall giant with three heads and eight arms.
The figure was bare-chested, boasting sinewy, knotted muscles that looked like something out of a comic book. Its skin was a ghastly grayish-white, resembling a muscular colossus sculpted from granite.
Yet strangely, the giant's eye sockets were pitch-black and hollow, with fresh blood streaming down its cheeks like tears—its eyeballs had been brutally gouged out. Deep, dark red wounds scored its neck, shoulder blades, and the base of its thighs, appearing as if it had been dismembered by five horses and stitched back together.
*An... Ancient God of War?!* The thought flashed into Zhang Yuanqing's mind immediately. Three heads and eight arms was the signature trait unique to an Ancient God of War.
No wonder... He instantly understood where the thick fog had come from and why the Gale Gloves couldn't disperse it.
—It was hard to tell whether the ancient giant before him was alive. In fact, this might not even be its corpse. Because its footsteps made no sound, Zhang Yuanqing suspected it was condensed from the thick fog itself.
Had an Ancient God of War's unyielding will or bitter obsession after death turned into this fog? Yet he could sense no spiritual body aura from it.
Zhang Yuanqing dared not be careless in the slightest, holding his breath completely.
Even if the other party were a vengeful spirit, he wouldn't entertain the slightest impulse to pick a fight.
He was well past the age of strutting around with hands in his pockets, thinking he had no rivals.
How could a little twig hope to match an ancient dry sausage?
Step by step, the three-headed, eight-armed Ancient God of War approached, quickly closing in on Zhang Yuanqing. When only three meters separated them, it seemed to sense something and came to an abrupt halt.
Zhang Yuanqing's heart nearly skipped a beat before throbbing uncontrollably fast, his blood pressure soaring.
He dared not move an inch.
Had he not read the Employee Code of Conduct, anyone encountering the thick fog and sighting the obsession of an Ancient God of War would instinctively run. But the moment one moved, one would inevitably become the target of the obsession residing within the fog.
A guaranteed dead end.
The fog flowed silently. The Ancient God of War stood motionless, and Zhang Yuanqing didn't dare budge either.
After a stalemate lasting a few seconds, the Ancient God of War suddenly let out a roar filled with fury, defiance, and endless rancor:
"%$#*!"
*%$#*?* It sounded like a dialect, its pronunciation bizarre in the extreme, its incomprehensibility rivaling the dialect of Jiangnan Leather City... Zhang Yuanqing couldn't understand a single word.
Finally, after a low, rumbling growl, the Ancient God of War took soundless strides, walking past Zhang Yuanqing and continuing on its way.
*Phew...* Zhang Yuanqing quietly let out a breath of relief.
Suddenly, an ethereal, eerie call echoed from the garden:
"Zhang Yuanqing—"
The voice resembled the high-pitched screech of a cat. In the silent night, it sounded ghastly and uncanny, sending a chill down one's spine.
Zhang Yuanqing's hairs stood on end.
Lingering too long in the Dodder Garden had triggered the hazard of this area.
"Zhang Yuanqing, Zhang Yuanqing—"
The voice called repeatedly, growing increasingly hurried and shrill upon receiving no response.
*Is that all? Calling my name directly... It must be an inner voice from my mind,* Zhang Yuanqing mused. Although hearing the call stirred an intense instinct to turn his head, suppressing such an instinct was easy for a Saint.
"Zhang Yuanqing," the voice in the garden called out rapidly, ringing in his ears.
"Don't you want to know what your father actually left behind in your soul?"
Zhang Yuanqing nearly turned around, but held back with sheer force of will.
"Don't you want to know the truth behind the downfall of the Xiaoyao Organization?"
"Don't you want to know whether Zhang Zizhen is truly dead or alive?"
"Don't you want to know whether the Demon Lord is truly dead or alive?"
"Look at me! Quick, look at me—"
Zhang Yuanqing's expression froze. Amid the barrages of questions, an overwhelming yearning overpowered his instincts and shattered his reason. Little by little, his head began to turn.
These were all questions he yearned to resolve above all else—especially whether the Demon Lord was alive or dead, a riddle that had become an enduring nightmare, haunting him constantly.
It was at this very moment that he understood the true source of the Dodder Garden's power.
—An Inner Demon!
The class name for a Dominator-stage Illusionist: Inner Demon, also known as Voidwalker. The former was an ancient title.
The core skill of an Inner Demon was itself called "Inner Demon," an empowered version of emotional manipulation.
As his level increased, Fu Qingyang had used his authority to grant him access to a wealth of Dominator-level intelligence.
Information regarding Inner Demons was among it.
In ancient legends, Daoist cultivators had to undergo heavenly tribulations to ascend to immortality, and one of those tribulations was the Inner Demon Tribulation.
In truth, this was a distorted mythologization of an Inner Demon's feats.
Everyone harbored an inner demon and held past memories they were unwilling to face. Some could sever their inner demons with a blade, while others could never cross that hurdle their entire lives.
Those unable to cross that hurdle faced near-certain doom upon encountering an "Inner Demon."
Zhang Yuanqing was having his vulnerabilities exploited by the inner demon right now. He did not know how an inner demon killed its prey, but he knew with certainty that turning his head would spell his doom.
And as his head turned millimeter by millimeter, disturbing the fog, the departing Ancient God of War suddenly halted. Its heads twisted around, its hollow, pitch-black eye sockets staring right at him.
It was horrifying and chilling to the bone.
Cold sweat beaded across Zhang Yuanqing's forehead.
*I can't look back! I can't look back...* he warned himself desperately in his heart, yet his remaining sanity could no longer triumph over primal instinct. He was still turning his head, bit by bit.
At the exact moment the dodder vines entered the corner of his peripheral vision, Zhang Yuanqing finally came to a halt. His pupils turned into molten gold, and a faint golden light radiated from the pores of his skin.
At the critical juncture, he had circulated the Pure Yang Body Cleansing Record!
This force, embodying the purest and most domineering power in the world, suppressed the inner demon, allowing reason to reclaim the high ground.
Having sensed no further disturbance from the fog for a prolonged moment, the Ancient God of War resumed its stride and walked away.
"Zhang Yuanqing, Zhang Yuanqing—"
The shrill, bizarre voice continued calling, tempting him.
It still held sway over Zhang Yuanqing, but he was no longer defenseless.
Before long, the thick fog around them dispersed. The ink-black night sky reappeared, along with the red-gowned Palace Master, Commandery Princess Yinyao, and Blood Rose.
"Move!" Zhang Yuanqing shouted.
The two humans and two corpses sprinted through the Dodder Garden, halting at a fork in the path.
With lingering fear, Zhang Yuanqing said, "That was too close... I almost died..."
Only then did he notice that Commandery Princess Yinyao and the Palace Master of Halting Slaughter were examining the soil on the ground, their faces remarkably serene, as if the ordeal just now had been nothing more than an amusement park ride.
"You two..." Zhang Yuanqing said in astonishment. "Aren't you being a bit too calm?"
Commandery Princess Yinyao raised her megaphone and aimed it at him. "That Ancient God of War is very powerful, but staying still was all it took. As for the calls from the dodder vines, that was merely a trivial inner demon at work."
"'Merely'? You're just a little Level 6 yin corpse who just advanced—where did you get such a big mouth? Someone who didn't know better would think the old crone was your disciple!"
"You called Master an old crone again. I'm going to note this down in my diary. I've learned how to keep a diary now." Commandery Princess Yinyao pushed the megaphone right up to his face, speaking with utter conviction. "Did you forget who crafted the Ghost Mirror? In my early years, I cast aside glory, wealth, and status to roam the pugilistic world. My mind has long been clear and unburdened; I severed my obsessions long ago."
*Clear and unburdened, my foot,* Zhang Yuanqing grumbled inwardly. *If I so much as glance at your body, you get mad as hell. Last time in the underground palace of Qinfeng Academy when I touched your chest, you gave me a resounding slap across the face!*
He then turned to the Palace Master of Halting Slaughter. She had suffered the slaughter of her entire family clan; by all rights, she should be thoroughly plagued by inner demons.
The Palace Master of Halting Slaughter smiled playfully. "I can hypnotize myself into forgetting my hatred."
*I'm the only weak link here?!* Zhang Yuanqing found this hard to accept for a moment.
***
Rouzong City, Silver Building.
In the night, a streak of green light shot swiftly through the air and landed on the rooftop of the skyscraper, transforming into a petite, dainty toy poodle.
Elder Gou surveyed the rooftop with profound eyes, his gaze ultimately falling upon a sheet of paper weighed down by a stone.
One corner of the paper fluttered in the wind.
Elder Gou lightly raised a paw. The stone rolled aside on its own, and the paper drifted upward, presenting itself before him.
Looking closely, the text on the sheet read:
"I have been targeted. Please meet at 'From Hundred Plant Garden to Sanwei Study.'"
*A trap?!*
Elder Gou's heart jolted as he instantly realized he had fallen for a ploy to lure the tiger away from its mountain.
Yet in the next second, the handwriting on the paper caught his attention.
He examined it repeatedly, finding a matching sample within his distant, faded memories. He murmured to himself, "It's Zizhen's handwriting..."
After a moment of contemplation, Elder Gou transformed into a streak of green light and sped away, flying toward the former residence of history's most famous grand critic.
***
Brushing aside his dismay over the recent ordeal, Zhang Yuanqing followed the sparse trail of dropped mud and looked toward the path on the left.
"This path leads to the Monkey Garden," the Palace Master of Halting Slaughter said merrily. "Looks like your Lucky Necklace is useful after all."
*The same monkeys netizens said would take a dump on the spot and hurl it at tourists?* Even as Zhang Yuanqing complained inwardly, the rules from the Employee Code of Conduct surfaced in his mind once more.
*Rule 10: The monkeys in the Zoo do not speak.*
This rule felt more like a reminder, much like warning signs posted by a reservoir reading: "No Swimming" or "No Fishing."
"No Swimming" was to prevent drowning, and "No Fishing" was even more straightforward.
Yet what did "the monkeys do not speak" mean? If one spoke, what would happen?
Harboring doubts, the two humans and corpse chose the left route and pressed forward.
After sprinting at high speed for two minutes, an enclosure surrounded by iron railings appeared ahead. Inside lay a pond, artificial rockeries, and greenery. It was dead silent in the dark night, without a single trace of a monkey.
"No monkeys. Move fast!"
Breathing a slight sigh of relief, Zhang Yuanqing urged his companions to quicken their pace.
They sprinted along the rather narrow concrete path, quickly circling around half of the Monkey Garden. Suddenly, stepping out from the darkness ahead was an employee in a blue uniform wearing a peaked cap, the long brim concealing his eyes and half of his face.
He walked through the dark like a midnight wraith.
"He has no badge..."
At the front, the Palace Master of Halting Slaughter came to an abrupt halt, keeping her voice low.
No badge... Zhang Yuanqing instantly recalled Rule 11 of the Employee Code of Conduct:
*If his badge is missing, run immediately.*
"Quick, hide!"
The Palace Master quickly looked around and led the way into the roadside bushes.
After a flurry of rustling, the two humans and two corpses concealed themselves, peering through gaps in the shrubbery to monitor the movement outside.
The worker in the blue uniform seemed not to have noticed them, or perhaps ignored them entirely, maintaining a mechanical, stiff gait as he approached step by step.
He passed right by the bushes where the party was hiding and continued into the distant darkness.
As he walked past them, Zhang Yuanqing focused his gaze and discovered with shock that the back of this blue-uniformed employee was mottled with pitch-black stains.
The blue uniform was transforming into a black uniform.
This phenomenon astonished him. *Black uniforms are converted from blue ones?*
"Look at his posture—he seems to be sleepwalking," the Palace Master observed as well, whispering, "So Wang Mingming was the same. He didn't know anything was wrong with him when he turned into an employee in a black uniform."
"No, no, no. Employees in black uniforms aren't this eerie. We saw one in the outer area; Wang Mingming probably turned into some other monster," Zhang Yuanqing shook his head repeatedly.
The Palace Master turned her head toward him. "That was in the outer area, where there were only two or three simple, easy rules. How could outer-area employees be the same as those in the core area? For some reason, that Wang Mingming wasn't driven out of the core area, and the result is that he brutally slaughters the blue uniforms, okay?"
Commandery Princess Yinyao chimed in eagerly:
"Good thing we hid in time. Otherwise, we would have been brutally slaughtered too, or dragged down by him, attracting other blue uniforms and the white lion."
Zhang Yuanqing thought it over and nodded, finding her point reasonable. Then he voiced another doubt:
"Still, it's very strange. Why do blue uniforms turn into black uniforms? What's the underlying logic? A game played by the item spirit? The item spirit's twisted sense of humor?"
He had encountered several rule-based items before; rules were essentially just another term for abilities.
Take endless hunting, for instance, or becoming pregnant upon hearing crying, or blocking any single attack regardless of form.
Once these abilities were endowed with "compulsion," they became rules.
The Zoo's rules baffled him deeply. While the thick fog and the Dodder Garden were somewhat understandable, gathering the souls of those who died in the Zoo to serve as staff, then having them patrol and kill one another—that was something he couldn't comprehend.
Doubts aside, their mission could not be delayed. Zhang Yuanqing leaped out of the bushes. Just as he was about to continue moving with his companions, his spiritual intuition stirred—he felt someone watching him.
Following his instincts, he looked toward the Monkey Garden.
Perched on the rockery beside the pond, at some point, sat a monkey.
Before they had hidden in the bushes, there had clearly been no monkey there.
It was an exceptionally massive monkey. Even in a crouch, it stood over one and a half meters tall, with a thunder god's beak-like mouth, slightly protruding brow ridges, and brownish-black fur. A pair of eyes gleamed brilliantly in the dark, tinged with a faint shade of blood.
"Stop looking. Let's hurry," the Palace Master urged.
Zhang Yuanqing nodded, ignoring the monkey on the rockery and walking swiftly onward.
The monkey watched them silently, then spoke in human tongue:
"Elder Gou, I'm entrusting this Zoo to you from now on. It can't be stored in an inventory, nor can it be brought into the Spirit Realm. To me, it's quite the burden... Ah, don't be mad, I misspoke just now! You're the cutest...
"Elder Gou, the Zoo cannot be without an administrator. Otherwise, the things suppressed inside will break out. You are an elder of the official faction; upholding order is your duty."
Zhang Yuanqing's pupils contracted violently, his feet rooted to the spot.
Chapter 507