My words have become law; I truly have no desire to display my divine power before others.

Face up, eyes wide open, dying with eyes wide open.

Those eyes were grayish-white, with dilated pupils, like two cooked glutinous rice balls.

Its mouth was also open, but it was crooked, as if it had been forcibly pried open.

The tongue is exposed, black, and dry.

That expression wasn't fear; it was something indescribable, something even more unsettling than fear itself.

It seemed like it was crying, laughing, or perhaps it was saying something, but halfway through its sentence someone pried its mouth open, and then it could never close again.

Lü Yang's hand trembled slightly.

It's not fear, it's disgust.

He had seen dead people; he had seen them in Wen'an County, at Jinguang Temple, and at Huxiao Ridge.

But at least the dead are whole and have dignity.

This is different. This isn't a dead person; it's an object, a ball that someone has been kicking around.

He took half a step back, and the anger in his heart flared up again.

A crisp laugh came from under the shade of the tree.

"whee."

A child peeked out from behind a tree.

She was very young, about three or four years old, wearing a red bib and with two pigtails sticking up in the air. Her face was round and chubby, with a fair complexion and a rosy glow, like a doll in a New Year's painting.

His eyes were bright, like black grapes, and curved into two crescent moons when he smiled.

There was no ball in his hands, nor at his feet—the ball was at Lü Yang's feet, at that head, that strange head.

"Uncle, please kick the ball over to me."

The child's voice was soft and sweet, as if it had just been pulled out of a candy jar.

Lu Yang stared at the child, at the patch of shaded ground at his feet, and at his small, white hands.

Suddenly, his eyes widened for a moment, then a hint of joy appeared on his face.

The head that he had previously found disgusting now seemed to have transformed into a completely different image in his eyes.

Lü Yang smiled and bent down to pick up the head that wasn't a ball.

It wasn't kicked with the foot, but picked up with the hand by bending down.

When his fingers touched the hair on that head, they touched something slippery, like blood that hadn't dried completely.

But he didn't let go; instead, a childlike, happy smile appeared on his face.

He lifted the "ball" up, aimed it at the child, and gently tossed it over.

The head traced an arc in the air, neither too high nor too low, neither too fast nor too slow, landing just in front of the child.

With a "thud," it bounced once and came to a steady stop at his feet.

Then, Lü Yang happily squatted down, waiting for the other party to kick the "ball" over to him.

The child smiled, his eyes curving into two crescent moons, revealing two rows of small white teeth.

He bent down, hooked the "ball" up with his toe, then nudged it with his knee and then with his head, making the head roll around on his body like a juggler.

He was having a great time, his giggling laughter echoing across the empty square, sounding particularly eerie.

"Uncle is so much fun." He stopped, looked at Lü Yang, and said, "Let's do it again."

He kicked his head at me.

Lü Yang happily received the ball and continued kicking it.

All of this made it seem as if he was the one who was three or four years old.

Ye Qingfeng glanced at Lü Yang over there, but remained silent.

Meanwhile, on the other side.

Shen Zhaoyue had already reached the edge of the square without anyone noticing.

Her footsteps were still there, but her eyes were different.

Those usually calm eyes were now somewhat unfocused, as if they were looking at something very, very far away.

What did she see?

She saw a courtyard with walls made of blue bricks and foxtail grass growing on top of them.

There is a jujube tree in the yard, and a little girl is playing shuttlecock under the tree.

The little girl was wearing a red jacket and skirt, and her hair was tied in two small buns with red ribbons tied to the ends of her braids.

She hopped and skipped, the shuttlecock flying up and down on her feet like a tireless butterfly.

Shen Zhaoyue stood there, staring at the little girl, motionless.

The sword slipped from her hand and fell to the ground with a clatter, but she didn't bend down to pick it up.

Instead, he made a kicking motion, clearly having nothing in his hands, yet he seemed to be having a lot of fun.

Miao Gui was originally going to enter the square, but the chubby baby's little hand was tightly pulling on his hair.

Feeling the pain, Miao Gui didn't go inside.

The child's eyes lit up.

He felt smug when he saw that those people had fallen for his trick.

He pulled the two people, a young man with a sword and a woman with a knife, into the illusion.

They played shuttlecock, hopscotch, and jacks in that illusion, having a great time.

They will never wake up, never.

His lips curled up even more.

There are only a few people left now, so I need to think of something else fun.

Previously, those people couldn't withstand more than a few hits and died, so this time we have to be more careful.

Thinking of this, he raised his head.

He caught the "ball" kicked by Lü Yang again, held it in his arms, and looked up at Ye Qingfeng.

His eyes were curved, and the corners of his mouth were upturned, but there was something else in those curves and upturned corners.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Just passing by," Ye Qingfeng said.

"Passersby?" The child tilted his head, thought for a moment, and asked, "Won't the passersby play with me?"

"What should I play with you?"

"Play football."

The child raised his head and shook it.

The head in his little hands looked like a toy.

His fingers dug into the messy hair, his knuckles clenched tightly, as if afraid it would run away.

He smiled, revealing his small white teeth. His smile was innocent and pure, just like any other child's.

"Okay," Ye Qingfeng said, "I'll play with you."

His voice was calm, but if Lü Yang were conscious at that moment, he would have heard something else.

The immortal master is angry.

The child laughed, a very happy laugh.

He placed the "ball" on the ground, kicked it with his toe, and the head rolled towards Ye Qingfeng.

Ye Qingfeng neither bent over nor used his feet.

The child seemed dissatisfied with his performance, pouting slightly.

The child's eyes darted around, then he bent down, picked up the head, held it in his palm, and presented it to Ye Qingfeng.

"You play with me," he said softly and gently. "If you play well, I'll return them to you."

He gestured with his lip towards Lü Yang.

Lu Yang and Shen Zhaoyue were still standing there, their eyes fixed on the void, smiles on their faces, as if they were having a very beautiful dream.

Ye Qingfeng looked at him.

Looking at that innocent face, those bright eyes, and that delicate little hand cradling the head that lay dead with its eyes wide open.

His gaze slid from that face to that head, and then back to that face.

His lips twitched slightly, not in a smile, but in an indescribable, bone-chilling expression.

"Give me the ball," he said.

The child hesitated for a moment, then offered his head.