“Too late,” Hua said calmly, pointing behind me.

  I turned—

  The idol’s eyes snapped open.

  A scarlet thread slithered from beneath the “divine seat,” crawling along the floor toward the idol’s feet like a bleeding serpent.

  The whole hall hummed.

  The air tightened, pressing against my chest until it hurt to breathe.

  Cold sweat trickled down my forehead.

  “System! Explain! What kind of cursed mess is this?!”

  System prompt: Current formation: Soul-Lock Array.

  The “Three Sacred Treasures” must be broken in sequence to lift the seal.

  Warning: Partial activation detected — soul anchoring in progress.

  If left unchecked, host’s soul will be preserved for eighty-one days as offering for the God of Feet.

  My blood froze.

  I looked again — behind the idol were six more stone figures, all in the same sitting posture, all with eyes wide open.

  “System, don’t tell me—those are the previous ‘Gods of Feet,’ right?”

  Response: For reference only.

  “For reference—?!” I almost screamed. “You’ve said that so many times it could be carved on my tombstone!”

  Hua folded his arms. “Yelling won’t help.”

  He eyed the altar. “If this is a Soul-Lock Array, then these three trinkets might actually matter.”

  I was about to keep cursing the system when I noticed both Hua and Lian staring straight at me.

  I froze.

  “…Why are you looking at me like that?”

  Hua raised a brow. “You just spent an entire incense stick muttering to yourself. Things like, ‘You stand up! What kind of plot design is this?! Who writes this garbage?!’”

  He paused, expression unreadable. “It was… like you were arguing with someone invisible.”

  “Uh…” I coughed, sweating. “Practicing lines.”

  “Lines?”

  “Yeah, for a play.”

  “You also said, ‘You crawl back out!’—were you, perhaps, scolding spirits?”

  “…Right.” I nodded solemnly. “A spirit drama. Very avant-garde.”

  Lian gave me a long, unreadable look.

  “Since you fell off that cliff,” he murmured, “you’ve had… peculiar habits.”

  “I can fix that!” I said quickly, forcing a grin. “Now—about those trinkets?”

  Lian’s gaze shifted back to the altar.

  “The wooden box, the clay jar, and the embroidered cloth—those are the so-called Three Treasures. But the inscriptions on the floor mention Three Seals. Perhaps these objects are actually Soul Seals.”

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  “Which one do we start with?”

  “The wooden box,” Lian said. He brushed a sleeve over its surface. Patterns rippled across the lacquered wood, revealing a single carved character—‘Qu.’

  “The village’s surname,” he murmured. “They’re all Qu here — the Qu clan of Qu Mountain Village.”

  I grimaced. “Even the name sounds cursed.”

  “Less talking,” Hua snapped. He tapped the box with his folded fan. “You open it.”

  “Why me?!”

  “You’re the one on the divine throne,” Lian replied evenly.

  “Then I resign!”

  “Too late.”

  The chair beneath me clicked, tightening like a snare.

  System warning: Soul binding in progress. Do not interrupt ritual.

  I gulped. “Fine, fine. I’ll open the damn thing.”

  The box wasn’t locked, but it was heavy. My hands trembled as I lifted the lid—

  Click.

  A soft, ominous sound.

  Inside were only three items:

  —A yellowed contract.

  —A dark red seal.

  —And… a black seed.

  The moment my fingers brushed the paper—

  The world lurched.

  “Wait—am I in another illusion?! System, I swear if this isn’t mainline conte—”

  Darkness swallowed me.

  When my vision cleared, I was standing in an old ancestral hall, incense smoke coiling to the rafters.

  A cracked wooden plaque hung above: “Ancestral Shrine of the Qu Clan.”

  Kneeling on the ground were a dozen villagers—one leg long, one leg short, faces pale and twisted with grief.

  “Please, exalted one, save our clan!”

  At the altar stood a robed Taoist whose face was blurred by light. His voice, however, rang cold and sharp:

  “The Qu clan defied Heaven and practiced forbidden arts.

  To survive, you must seal your village and sacrifice your souls for three generations.”

  “I leave you Three Treasures as seals:

  The wooden box for the Oath,

  The clay jar for the Word,

  The cloth for the Form.”

  “Break all three, and the seal shatters.

  Let any fool dare open them—and your curse shall return.”

  Boom!

  The vision shattered. I dropped back into my body, drenched in sweat.

  Hua leaned in. “You saw it?”

  I nodded stiffly. “This village wasn’t born lopsided—they were cursed into it.”

  Lian’s tone was grave. “That seed is forbidden. The plague of Dongling eighty years ago began with those seeds.”

  “So these villagers… are infected?”

  “Likely. The seal bound the disease and their souls. The so-called ‘God of Feet’ maintained the barrier for generations.”

  I swallowed hard. “Then… should we reseal it?”

  “Too late,” Lian said quietly. “You opened the box. The seal’s broken.”

  “Then what do we do?!”

  “Easy,” Hua said, flicking open his fan. “We move on to the next treasure. We do what we need to.”

  Lian added, “The wooden box represents an oath. Once opened, it must be replaced with a new vow.”

  “Hold it right there.” I raised a hand. “I am done making vows. Every oath I’ve sworn in this life came back to bite me!”

  “This time,” Lian said mildly, “only your words will work. You’re the ‘main soul’ of the formation.”

  I gaped. “Why can’t you do it? You’re the mighty Blood Lotus Cult Master!”

  He arched a brow, lips curving slightly. “I’ll handle the second treasure. You handle this one.”

  I groaned. “Fine!”

  If they wanted a vow, they’d get one.

  I jabbed a finger at the altar.

  “I, Nangong Gong, swear—if we leave this cursed village alive, I’ll have Hua personally sculpt a statue of the ‘God of Feet’ back in the capital!”

  I pointed straight at Hua, eyes gleaming.

  “Bronze cast, gold-plated, three feet tall, carried on an eight-man palanquin into the grand hall of the pleasure house!

  And every day, Hua will burn three sticks of incense, brew three jars of pear wine each month, and—every year—personally wash the god’s feet!”

  I paused, then added viciously,

  “And if he slacks off even once, may he dream of this cursed village every night—dancing his way awake in terror!”

  Crack!

  The wooden box split down the middle, releasing a faint crimson mist that slithered back toward the formation.

  The red threads binding my limbs loosened.

  It actually worked.

  Lian’s brows arched slightly, amusement flickering in his eyes. “A vow sincere enough, apparently.”

  I barely had time to bask in relief before—

  “You used me for your oath?!” Hua snapped, his fan snapping shut with a loud smack.

  My ears rang.

  “Hey, don’t take it personally,” I said weakly. “You’re just… spiritually reliable!”