Chapter 86: Buying a Life

On the bridge spanning Yunmeng Lake, vehicles came and went; snow-white pleasure boats floated like white geese on the emerald water, carrying early-rising tourists across the lake toward Chuyun Mountain.

Both Chuyun Mountain and Yunmeng Lake were nationally famous scenic spots, packed with tourists during holidays; though it was not yet peak season, many visitors with money and free time still came to enjoy the off-season.

Mist rose thickly over Yunmeng Lake; the pleasure boats buzzed with chatter, punctuated by the occasional click-click of camera shutters and the chirping of young women.

Some girls argued with their boyfriends whether to take photos first at the island in the center of the lake or at the summer villa on the mountain; groups of budget-conscious college students consulted their pre-trip food guides, differentiating between local time-honored eateries and touristy social media hotspots; and brightly dressed middle-aged and elderly women had come specifically to climb the mountain and dig up wild ginseng, believed to extend life and cure all ailments.

They did not know these so-called wild ginseng were actually the graduation projects of graduate students from the Agricultural College of Yunlu Academy.

On a half-full pleasure boat filled with young people, a male college student with clear eyes walked to the bow holding a selfie stick, pointing with his other hand toward the island in the lake’s center where a statue of Confucius stood, and said to the camera:

“Arrived at the largest lake in Central China—Yunmeng Lake! So beautiful, Yunmeng Lake… Oh wow, isn’t that Confucius?”

“Let’s look at Chuyun Mountain in the distance, folks…”

The male college student was enthusiastically aiming his camera at famous landmarks on Yunmeng Lake when the boat suddenly braked; its white hull tilted sideways, throwing everyone forward. The student at the bow stumbled against the railing, and his brand-new phone—bought on installment just for photos—plunged into the water with a splash, leaving only a hollow selfie stick.

“What the hell just happened…?” Several students scrambled to their feet, confused, staring at the captain ahead—but the captain himself looked just as bewildered.

“Don’t look at me—I didn’t hit the emergency brake…” the captain hurriedly protested. “The boat’s route across the lake is pre-programmed; it’s mostly auto-piloted at slow speed. We’re only here to monitor for emergencies—rarely do we manually steer.”

That meant the sudden stop and drift had been triggered automatically by the boat itself—not by the captain.

“The camera detected a humanoid object ahead, so it braked… Strange, who’s out in the middle of the lake?” The captain looked as if he’d seen a ghost. Yunmeng Lake was not called Central China’s largest lake for nothing—even in dry season, its diameter stretched over a hundred kilometers. How could any human possibly swim to the center?

Had a tourist fallen—or jumped—off the boat? Or was some giant aquatic creature surfacing ahead?

Thinking this, the captain did not hesitate. He immediately took manual control, throttling the engine to its lowest setting and slowly steering toward the spot where the humanoid shape had been detected.

The college students, now aware of the situation, leaned out from between the railings on either side of the boat, peering and filming, searching for any sign of a drowning person.

A faint mist hung over Yunmeng Lake in the morning, slightly reducing visibility and lending a hazy, poetic atmosphere. The captain switched on the bow spotlight and cautiously scanned forward for a long while—until finally, a humanoid silhouette appeared ahead of the boat.

“Found it! It really is a person!”

“Wait… what’s going on with this person?”

The brief joy vanished, replaced by confusion: the blurry figure ahead was not half-submerged, with only the upper body above water, nor was it floating on its back or side.

The figure in the spotlight was a complete, whole person.

Or more precisely—a person standing on the surface of the lake.

“I don’t remember Yunmeng Lake having plum-blossom stakes… That’s something Daoists or warrior monks do…” The young people murmured. The water in the lake’s center was far too deep for any such stakes. Could the man be standing on a bamboo raft or wooden float?

No—that was impossible. The figure stood motionless on the water, hunched and rigid, like a chopstick stuck in sand, showing no sign of imbalance or shifting weight. No raft could remain this perfectly steady.

What was the word again?—As if walking on solid ground.

“How could someone be standing in the middle of the lake? Could it be… a ghost?”

“Don’t say that. You’re fine not mentioning it—but say it out loud, and it might…”

The noisy students fell silent. A strange stillness settled over the boat. The captain gripped the control stick, unsure whether to advance or retreat. The engine roared behind them, yet the boat remained frozen in place, not daring to move an inch.

The boat didn’t move—but the figure drew closer.

No legs stepped forward, no body swayed. He simply glided forward, silently, his loose Confucian robe untouched by water, his round belly emitting a rotting stench.

“What… is that thing?”

“God knows!” the captain bellowed, frantically turning the boat to flee this eerie place—but the gliding figure on the water moved faster than the engine-driven boat. The hunched old man’s face bore two hollow, blood-red eye sockets, their depths dripping flesh.

They say the eyes are windows to the soul. Morning sunlight bathed the god of wealth’s lifeless, ancient face in golden glory, revealing through the sockets his skull’s creamy, decaying brain matter.

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The spotlight swept across the thin mist on the lake, stretching the god of wealth’s emaciated, hunched shadow long and thin.

Screams and panicked shouts erupted from the boat; those fleeing were consumed by terror, unaware that when the spotlight swept the water, it did not illuminate just one shadow.

Behind the hunched figure, the air was empty—until a dark silhouette flashed across the shimmering, clear lake surface like an arrow loosed from a bow, streaking toward the god of wealth’s back.

If slowed, the shadow’s twisted humanoid form could barely be made out: a tall, slender adult male, gripping a long, rod-like object—perhaps a staff, a sword, or even a mop?

The black shadow darted behind the god of wealth, raised both hands high, then brought them down swiftly—severing his head with one clean cut.

As the shadow’s head fell, the old man’s neck snapped too; a round, bloated head plopped into the lake, spreading a dark, cloud-like patch of crimson.

The god of wealth was dead.

But before the sound of the head hitting the water faded, another sharp metallic clang rang out over Yunmeng Lake—like a copper coin tumbling from a torn pocket, clinking to the ground.

The god of wealth was alive again.

(End of Chapter)