Linbiangui Village-Infinite Streaming Chapter 43
byThe Mystery of Borrowed Fortune
In the Bai family courtyard, Wu Zeng lay still on the ground, muddied like a puddle of sludge in the rainwater, the fresh blood seeping from his body spreading into a glaring dark red in the mist.
“Brother Zeng…” Uncle A Dong approached slowly, his voice trembling, afraid that Wu Kai Ke might turn around. The short distance felt like a thousand miles to him.
Wu Zeng’s eyes were tightly shut, his lips pale, only the slight rise and fall of his back proving he was still alive.
Bai Lao Da also peered out from the house. Bai Lao San was nowhere to be seen, making him intensely uneasy, but constrained by his inherent desire to heal and save, he couldn’t abandon Wu Zeng. He paced toward Wu Zeng, waving his left hand backward, signaling Bai Lao Er to bring the medicine chest from the room.
In an unnoticed corner, Wu Zeng’s fingers quickly twitched a few times.
The mountain wind whistled, sweeping through the branches and leaves lining the road. Wu Kai Ke’s cold command, “Up the mountain,” dissipated into the damp air. He walked with steady steps on the winding path leading to the Mountain God Temple, while Chen Jin followed silently behind him. The entire road was terrifyingly quiet.
A sharp, sour pain occasionally tore at his heart. Chen Jin felt that the aching pressure in his chest was far more unsettling than the burning pain of the calluses on his abdomen.
When leaving the Bai family, Chen Jin had wanted to confirm Wu Zeng’s well-being, but the current situation felt as if an invisible large hand had confined him in place. He had no choice but to watch Wu Zeng’s back movements become increasingly shallow, before being led away from the Bai family, seemingly by an unseen force, following Wu Kai Ke.
“He won’t die,” Wu Kai Ke’s voice was flat, his eyes focused solely on the path ahead. “As long as you do as I say.”
“No, I just want to leave.” Chen Jin gritted his teeth, the metallic sweetness of rust spreading in his mouth. Every step he took felt like falling into an abyss, the cold chill seeping through the soles of his shoes into his bones. In his mind, fragments of memory flashed: the two of them walking side-by-side in the dead of night, Wu Zeng’s selfless rescue the moment the landmine exploded, the dizzying scent of mint in the old bathhouse. These fragmented memories had long turned into fine needles, repeatedly piercing his nerves.
“Is that so?” Wu Kai Ke stopped speaking.
As dusk fell, the outline of the Mountain God Temple gradually became clear under the glazed lamps.
The temple, at this moment, lacked its usual strangeness. Instead, Wu Kai Ke’s arrival made it seem peaceful and tranquil. Trembling light emanated from every tile, lending the entire temple an air of gentle compassion.
The two pushed open the heavy temple doors. A strong odor, a mixture of decay and sandalwood, rushed out, mingled with an indescribable腥 sweetness. The sight inside made Chen Jin’s pupils contract—in the center of the main hall, the massive black coffin still rested silently, but the surrounding scene was vastly different from before.
Eight rusty iron chains stretched out from eight directions, firmly locking onto the coffin in the center. This was clearly the scene from the illusion some time ago!
The only constant was the high, unknown deity statue, eyes closed, head bowed, facing the coffin below with a look of peace.
However, the lid of the coffin was gone. Peering inside, Aunt San Rong was also missing. In her place were vivid, lifelike scenes. At the bottom of the coffin was only one thing: an utterly real… mirror surface.
This is…
The mirror surface was smooth and clear, embedded in the bottom like a real-world ground.
The images in the mirror were not static. Light and shadow flowed within, projecting not the temple ceiling, but segments of distorted, fragmented, constantly shifting scenes—all depicting Mengle Village: Uncle A Dong, disguised as the village chief, presiding by the Reservoir; Sister A Ping coughing up blood in the darkness; the old man feeding alligator turtle meat to the fish; Aunt San Rong exploding by the village edge; the proprietress selling bean powder; the Qing girl luring people to gamble; the Bai brothers performing a rescue late at night; Old Man Wu, wrapped in mycelium, relentlessly pursuing them… Past scenes rotated like a carousel, rapidly flashing across the mirror surface. Chen Jin and Wu Zeng’s heart-to-heart conversation in the bathhouse was naturally among them.
Chen Jin saw countless versions of “himself,” some on the verge of collapse, others smiling happily. A suffocating sense of reality surged in his throat, and he couldn’t help but frown.
“What do you see?” Wu Kai Ke’s voice echoed in the empty hall.
Chen Jin didn’t reply.
Wu Kai Ke didn’t seem to care. He slowly walked up to the massive mirror, looking down at the countless struggling Chen Jins reflected within. “Everyone who enters Mengle Village, every second they spend here, is branded into an infinite world, endless and cyclical. Sometimes, you think you’ve left, but…”
Wu Kai Ke leaned closer to Chen Jin, his tone heavy and tragic. “And my old father… the strange old man you fear, died tragically because of my borrowed fortune, and is now eternally confined within this infinite world…”
He slammed his hands onto the edge of the coffin. The light and shadow in the mirror subtly shifted. “He used his own life to borrow those illusory fortunes, believing that if I became successful, I could escape this impoverished, desolate place and have a bright future.”
Chen Jin placed his hands on the coffin edge, his gaze quietly falling on the image of the two of them leaning against each other in the mirror—the Chen Jin in the mirror had his eyes tightly closed, his face completely relaxed, while Wu Zeng’s gaze was fixed intently on his face. That must have been the night after the Qing girl’s world ended, when they had confessed their feelings, and the world was enjoying a rare moment of leisure and tranquility.
Wu Kai Ke’s voice dropped, carrying a hint of imperceptible tremor. “But he didn’t know that this entire village is a curse. What was borrowed wasn’t fortune; it was an eternal, inescapable cycle! Every time the world restarts, he has to borrow fortune for me, reliving his innocent, wrongful death on the road of no return into the cycle, being drained dry. Even though this world was born from me, it remains the same. I am powerless to change it…”
Wu Kai Ke abruptly turned to Chen Jin, clenching his fists until his knuckles turned white, his eyes filled with pain and resentment. “Is it so hard for me to just let him live a normal life for once!”
“What can I do for you?” Chen Jin’s throat tightened, his voice terribly hoarse.
Wu Kai Ke paused, slightly surprised by Chen Jin’s compliant response, accepting it so readily.
“I am a person of the mirror; destroying the heavens and earth is naturally impossible for me. But you are different. As an outsider, you are unconstrained. You only need to destroy this mirror world, and the world that troubles you will cease to exist.”
Cease to exist. The last three words struck Chen Jin’s heart like a heavy hammer. As if sensing something, the countless past versions of “himself” in the mirror suddenly turned their heads in unison, silently gazing back at Chen Jin by the coffin.
A sudden, fiery ant-like sting crawled across his back. The pain extended and spread to the calloused area on his abdomen. Chen Jin cried out in pain and stumbled, falling against the coffin. Sweat instantly beaded on his forehead. He struggled to maintain stability, supporting himself with one hand behind him, his fingers white from excessive force.
“…Once the number of attempts exceeds seven, you will remain here forever.”
The warning from the first world echoed in his mind. How many times had he crossed the boundary so far?
Crossing the boundary in front of Aunt San Rong’s house, hiding in the back mountain to avoid danger, splitting up late at night, the extreme detonation by the bamboo forest… Every time they crossed, regardless of who the crosser was, the callusing intensified on him. Chen Jin couldn’t even calculate how far he was from that seventh time.
And Wu Zeng… what about Wu Zeng?
“Then won’t you also be gone?” Chen Jin turned his face toward Wu Kai Ke, his voice still hoarse. Sweat drenched his cheeks, and the hair strands by his ears stuck together.
Wu Kai Ke narrowed his eyes. “There is a way.”
He shook his hand in the air, and a glazed lamp from the temple entrance appeared in his grasp.
“With fire as the wick and kindness as the oil, this glazed lamp, forged by my old father to repay his debt, can be considered a way to pull himself out.” Wu Kai Ke pulled Chen Jin, who was slumped on the ground, to his feet. Chen Jin instantly felt refreshed, the pain in his abdomen and the stickiness of the sweat silently vanishing.
Wu Kai Ke took Chen Jin’s left hand, palm up, and a splendid glazed lamp settled into it. Then, he leaned close to Chen Jin’s ear and whispered, “Throw it into the mirror. It will be instantaneous.”
The glazed lamp was made of genuinely good materials, feeling heavy in his palm.
Chen Jin looked at the flickering flame in the center, gripping the base of the lamp. With a blank expression, he slowly walked toward the edge of the coffin.
Wu Kai Ke slowly retreated behind him. In the place where Chen Jin couldn’t see, his mask-like face remained composed, but the corner of his mouth curled into a strange smile.
The obsession holder of every world might lure the person who enters the game onto the road of no return… Uncle A Dong’s words lingered in his ears.
But… how much in this world was trustworthy? The person who had been by his side day and night had unclear intentions. Perhaps Uncle A Dong’s words were also false. If so, what difference would it make to follow the obsession holder’s wishes?
Perhaps he really would get out.
Chen Jin slowly raised his hand. The glazed lamp was held above his shoulder, but he hesitated, unable to throw it into the mirror.
“Do it!” Wu Kai Ke’s sharp shout broke Chen Jin’s concentration, carrying an undeniable pressure. “This is your only chance to leave here alive! Otherwise, you will fall into the infinite hellish cycle just like my old father!”
Wu Kai Ke’s voice seemed to drift further and further away. Chen Jin stared at the scene in the mirror—the happiness on Wu Zeng’s face when they were together was real, the worry in Wu Zeng’s eyes when he was in danger was real, and Wu Zeng saving him from peril time and again was real…
“Get out first… Get out first…” Chen Jin muttered these two phrases. The hand holding the glazed lamp dropped to his side. His eyes, somewhat unfocused, looked around, and he began to back away.
Wu Kai Ke quickly stepped forward, trying to stop Chen Jin from changing his mind.
“Wu Kai Ke! Don’t be foolish!” A sharp cry broke the deadlock.
It was Bai Lao San. He had apparently run all the way here, tightly clutching something in his arms—an extremely worn, grease-stained… oil lamp!
“There is no spell! There is no such thing as a borrowed fortune spell at all!” Bai Lao San’s eyes were bloodshot, glaring at Wu Kai Ke, his voice distorted by agitation. “Your father! He knew you were arrogant and looked down on the poor villagers, so he didn’t dare let you know that your food, clothing, housing, and transportation all these years were supported by the people of the village! That’s why he fabricated this story about borrowing fortune!”
Bai Lao San’s voice echoed in the great hall. Every word was like a heavy hammer, striking Wu Kai Ke’s heart and Chen Jin’s ears.
Chen Jin suddenly turned around, seeing cracks appear on Wu Kai Ke’s mask-like face, his eyes filled with disbelief.
“Who here understands borrowing fortune? Everyone is an honest, simple farmer! You are so smart, how could you not guess? If there really was such a thing as borrowed fortune, how could the village still be in its current state! You just refuse to accept the fact that you received kindness from the villagers!” Bai Lao Er trembled as he held up the worn oil lamp. “There is no vessel for a spell! This is nothing more than your old father’s painstaking effort, the villagers’ goodwill, and your own wishful thinking!”