Don't Lie to Your Therapist—She Already Knows Your Fate

[So you’re saying you saw your grandpa who died three years ago in the live stream? Seriously, how much are they paying you to shill this hard?]

[First he said this place isn’t the Mortal World, now he’s saying he saw his dead grandpa. I think he might not be all there (just kidding).]

[Honestly, this place looks seriously weird. What century is this? Who still lives in thatched huts? And I can’t really make out those blurry shapes down there, but I’ve got a bad feeling about them!]

[Why does no one believe what Different from childhood is saying? Did you all forget what we saw in Doctor Wen’s stream last time? Is the bus incident already ancient history?]

[If we could see that husband and wife, then it’s totally possible for this guy to see his grandpa, right? This is Doctor Wen’s live stream, after all!]

[So by that logic, Doctor Wen’s stream isn’t in the mortal world, hahaha!]

Wen Ying’s viewing angle was different from the stream’s audience. The scene she was currently seeing...

...was of the dense crowd of people appearing next to the thatched huts... oh, no, they were soul bodies.

"Why does it look like that down there?"

[Host’s question hits the nail on the head.]

"This... Could it be that Grandpa Zhang is in one of those thatched huts below?"

Wen Ying remembered Uncle Zhang mentioning that his father, Old Sir Zhang, had said something about building thatched huts.

[As expected, Host is sharp as a tack.] 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

"But why is this place so different from what I imagined?"

It was her imagination, of course, but it was an image constructed from things like folk legends, novels, and TV shows.

[Does Host lack imagination?]

"No fancy idioms this time? Hey System, do you guys have schools? Do you not have exams during training?"

[...]

’The host is a lot smarter than I imagined,’ the system thought. ’I just hope she hasn’t figured anything out yet.’

Sensing that the system wouldn’t tell her the truth, Wen Ying didn’t ask any more questions.

She just kept watching.

Meanwhile, Uncle Zhang pulled Aunt Zhang into an empty room. They knelt before Old Sir Zhang’s memorial tablet and began to burn incense, paper money, and... paper weapons?

Wen Ying had drawn four handguns and five long knives.

As he started burning them, Uncle Zhang felt his strength flagging after just two handguns were consumed by the flames. He was getting tired.

By the time all four handguns were burned, his face was deathly pale.

He plopped down on the floor, his forehead beaded with sweat.

Seeing this, Aunt Zhang immediately brought him some water and chocolate to replenish his energy.

She started burning the remaining five knives, murmuring as she did, "Dad, do whatever you want down there! Just remember to be happy. Old Zhang and I are living healthy, happy lives up here, so don’t you worry about us. As for these weapons, we can only burn a few for you every once in a while. Please use them slowly down there. Otherwise, Old Zhang and I might just have to give up our lives to come and keep you company! That little girl is frail, too. She can’t keep drawing these things; it drains her vitality!"

After burning three knives, Aunt Zhang also felt utterly exhausted.

It was as if all the strength had been drained from her body. She quickly stopped, drank some water, and ate some chocolate to get some energy back.

"Old Zhang, let’s just forget about the last two knives. We really need to start exercising. Otherwise, giving Dad the things he wants will be nothing but a dream!"

Uncle Zhang nodded.

He thought so, too. The living were what mattered most.

Just then, a golden beam of light pierced through the gloomy sky, bringing a sudden, blinding glare.

It allowed everyone in the live stream to get a clear look at the kind of place, the kind of buildings, and the kind of... humans that had appeared on screen.

Of course, this was also because the automated camera had zoomed in a bit.

Old Sir Zhang had been feeling like something good was about to happen. In this region, his squad was already one of the best, and everyone had figured out a certain pattern.

It took a certain amount of Spiritual Energy to rouse dazed soul bodies back to consciousness, and recently, the Spiritual Energy within Old Sir Zhang’s own soul body was quite abundant.

The stronger his squad grew, the more corporeal he seemed to become, and his Spiritual Energy grew even more plentiful.

Recently, some soul bodies from outside had revealed a piece of information to Old Sir Zhang: other organizations several dozen kilometers away were capturing soul bodies and attacking other groups. These newcomers were escapees.

In response, Old Sir Zhang had formulated a detailed training plan for his troops.

Better to prepare for a rainy day. One must always be ready in advance.

At that moment, two hundred meters west of the thatched huts, his troops were drilling. Old Sir Zhang seemed to have a premonition.

Standing before his squad, he looked up at the dreary sky.

’This godforsaken place. The sky isn’t a sky, the ground isn’t the ground. The environment is so wretched that even a soul body doesn’t want to exist here.’

But this was the only place they could be.

A flash of golden light tore through the void. A brilliance never seen before instantly illuminated the entire world. All the soul bodies—whether they were drilling, walking, or simply existing in a stupor—stopped what they were doing. As if regaining consciousness, they all looked up toward the source of the golden light.

The entire space was plunged into momentary daylight by the appearance of the golden light.

And that golden light was heading straight for Old Sir Zhang’s position.

Old Sir Zhang felt a connection to it. He watched this scene in astonishment and muttered, "Could it be that unfilial son of mine? He managed it so quickly? I hope his body is all right."

’Since my unfilial son is showing such filial piety, I should send him some good stuff once I’ve built my empire,’ the old man thought.

After all, this era was all about reciprocal effort, whether in the world of the living or the dead.

"President Zhang will be victorious! President Zhang will be victorious!"

The squad suddenly erupted in such a cheer, simply because they saw that the items—whatever they were—seemed to be circling around Old Sir Zhang one by one.

They had come for him.

Hearing this cheer, Old Sir Zhang suddenly felt that he should change his title. In life, he had wanted to be a president but never got the chance. He hadn’t expected to get the experience down here, which was why he let everyone call him President Zhang.

But now, he was a man destined to build an empire. Naturally, he could no longer use the title of "President Zhang."

It seemed it was time to put "changing my title" on the agenda.

[Whoa! Am I watching a sci-fi movie?]

[If that scene just now was real, I’ll eat shit on a live stream!]

[Did you guys notice that during that flash of daylight, those... uhhhhhhh... people... didn’t have shadows?]

[Bro, up top, let me give you a hug! Their feet weren’t even touching the ground! That scared the hell out of me!]

[Here we go with the hype again. Which company is trying to ride these coattails for clout this time?]

[Those special effects must have cost a fortune! They’re so realistic! Is Doctor Wen bankrupt yet?]

[If a small-time live stream can pull off special effects of this level, I just want to know why all those big-budget sci-fi movies and fantasy dramas with their cheesy glowing-horse-power-ups are so pathetic???]

[I really saw my grandpa again... in that squad just now...]