Chapter 37: Coveting

The traditional skin-painting technique used by demons and ghosts involved draping a sheet of human skin over the body and sketching in the facial features to assume a human form. This method had one major drawback: to impersonate a woman required a woman’s skin, while impersonating a man demanded a man’s skin. The features could be painted on, but gender could not be altered.

Luo Shang’s private space happened to contain a sheet of simulated skin—a free gift from a merchant during an earlier purchase of other materials.

This improved version of simulated skin overcame the original skin-painting technique’s limitation of disguising only as humans. As spiritual energy coursed through it, the skin could shift and transform endlessly: into men, women, the elderly, or children.

Of course, one could simply cast a mimetic optical projection to alter size right on the spot. But that was far less effective than the skin-painting technique. At least the skin-painting produced a form that registered as fully human under thermal imaging, whereas the projection would betray the true skeletal shape beneath.

When the skeleton clambered to its feet, Luo Shang pulled the simulated skin from his private space and handed it over.

This newly risen skeleton was the most rudimentary of constructs. Absent Luo Shang’s intervention, it would have crumbled back to dust at the riverbed within days.

Luo Shang infused it with spiritual energy. The two soul flames flickering in its skull blazed brighter to the naked eye, and its intelligence sharpened noticeably.

“Then you’ll be A-Gu,” Luo Shang declared, bestowing a name.

“Tha… kacha… hiss… kacha.” A-Gu conveyed his gratitude through his whistling, gap-toothed mouth.

“Alright, get the skin on quick, before you frighten someone,” Luo Shang said.

Donning the skin transformed the skeleton into a dog—a massive Labrador.

Luo Shang had specified the canine form. As a low-tier undead creature, the skeleton possessed only the basest instincts of seeking advantage and shunning harm. Luo Shang’s enhancement had elevated its wits just enough to convincingly play the part of a dog.

“Good doggy.” Luo Shang patted the Labrador’s head. The touch felt warm, the short, coarse fur bristling pleasantly under his fingers.

The Labrador let out a resounding woof and thrashed its sturdy tail in delight.

~~~

Reincarnation Space, Auspicious Prosperity Heaven.

This was the hub where players conducted their trades, all transactions backed by the ironclad guarantee of the Reincarnation Space itself. Every item was authentic, which naturally drove prices higher than in back-alley deals between players.

Sophia had set up her stall with specialties from her home plane. Her bone dragon lay disassembled beneath her, its bones reassembled into a chair that cushioned her rear.

Her thoughts drifted to her barren account balance and Luo Shang’s exorbitant prices. She let out an involuntary sigh.

She had to obtain that peach of immortality. The heavenly treasures from the Queen Mother of the West’s Peach Garden brimmed with vital essence—enough to evolve her body once more and deepen her mastery of the laws of life and death.

But she was flat broke. Every last coin from before had vanished into her Mage Tower. Without selling something soon, she wouldn’t last much longer.

Her half-lich status drew steady custom to her stall. She quickly offloaded most of her plane’s output and tossed in a few extras: services for wealthy but inept players, like hunting down their enemies and breaking them—quite literally—for a discount.

As a necromancer versed in the anatomies of humans and countless other creatures, Sophia handled such tasks with effortless expertise.

She had just sold her final wares and begun packing up to leave when someone blocked her path.

To be precise, it wasn’t a someone—but a gigantic plush bear.

Sophia recited her standard line: “All merchandise is sold out. Here’s my contact info; place a direct order if you like. No slots open right now. Revenge jobs? Come back in a few months.”

The plush bear rumbled in a muffled voice of indeterminate gender: “You carry something I want.”

Sophia: ?

She was certain she had sold every last salable item.

“Anything peach of immortality-related. Name your price—I can pay it.”

The bear stated it casually.

Sophia: ??

How did he know she had a peach pit??

No—he had said anything related to peaches of immortality. It might not specifically mean the pit.

Still, his awareness of the item on her person was deeply suspicious.

Sophia gripped her staff and turned to lock eyes with him. Behind her, the bone dragon shouldering her bundle swung its head around, soul flames kindling in its enormous skull.

“No brawling allowed in Auspicious Prosperity Heaven. I only want to make a trade,” the plush bear said.

“I need that peach of immortality you’ve got.”

Sophia: “…Well, mine isn’t a full peach. It’s a peach pit. One trillion spiritual energy apiece.”

She quoted Luo Shang’s price for a single intact peach. Selling the pit would net her enough for a whole one anyway—and unlike some, she had his direct contact to procure more.

Giant Plush Bear: ……

Did it look like a pushover? It was just a peach pit… The market price couldn’t be that exorbitant, could it?

“You said any price was fine. If you can’t pay up, don’t play the big shot,” Sophia said.

“…Fine.” The Giant Plush Bear finally grunted. Its fuzzy face betrayed no expression, but its voice carried a gritted-teeth edge.

“Alright, transfer it straight to me.” Sophia sent her payment account details to the Giant Plush Bear.

After verifying that a full trillion Spirit Energy Points had indeed appeared in her account, Sophia’s eyes crinkled with delight.

The Giant Plush Bear sullenly stowed the peach pit away and watched as Sophia soared into the sky atop the Bone Dragon.

Perched on the Bone Dragon’s back, Sophia pulled up her messages with Luo Shang.

He was off in some remote world where he could only connect to the Spirit Net for ten minutes a day, so their exchanges usually worked like old-fashioned letters—lay it all out and wait for a reply.

“Today I went to Auspicious Prosperity Heaven to sell some stuff. Someone made an offer on the peach pit I had—said money was no object.”

“I sold it for a trillion Spirit Energy Points. That’s enough to buy a whole Peach of Immortality from you.”

“The guy was dressed head to toe in a Giant Plush Bear costume. I scanned him but couldn’t detect his original species—probably masked by some spell.”

“Since he was willing to pay any price, that pit must be incredibly important to him. He was dead set on getting it. I quoted several times the market rate, and he still bought it. Super suspicious. My guess is he already has some way to sense Peach of Immortality-related items. He might not have been after me at all—he could be tracking you. Watch your back.”

“For the heads-up with all this info, pick out a big one for me, yeah?”

After sending the messages, Sophia closed the chat and logged into the Players’ anonymous forum.

The Reincarnation Space provided a spot for Players to chat anonymously, and it was a real hotspot for intel.

She posted with practiced ease: “Anyone got Shang Yu’s contact info lately? Got business with him—paying top dollar.”

Replies started stacking up fast.

“OP talking about the Lord of Entropy? Dude hasn’t shown up in the Reincarnation Space in ages.”

“If you need his contact that bad, save your breath on a post like this. Your level’s too low to even ping his tier of Player. You know how it is.”

“Mr. Know-It-All strikes again.”

“+1”

“Look, senior Players stick to their own circles. Even if you weasel your way in at your grade, it’s pointless. Get the contact? Bam, instant block. No upside for them—why add you? Your pretty face?”

“Preach.”

“Line forms here.”

A bunch of Players agreeing with that take piled on. Sophia wasn’t in a rush; she waited patiently.

“OP, try hitting up members of his squad. Shang Yu’s crew’s been grinding missions lately—I’ve spotted ’em a few times.”

“But Shang Yu might not be around anymore.”

“? Big shot bailed on the team? Their Captain’s gonna lose it.”

“Their Captain’s already losing it. Check the world-destruction leaderboard— that maniac’s dominating the top spots after the recent refresh.”

“Shang boss really has been MIA forever. I checked his favorite fishing spot by that river—no sign.”

“Upstairs got guts, sniffing out his trail like that. Not scared of getting chomped alive by a certain petty cheapskate?”

“Not that bad, is it?”

“You really think he hasn’t munched on a Player or two?”

“…Whoa, this forum’s full of hidden talents. Someone actually knows Shang Yu’s go-to fishing river.”

“You can snag that info on the black market. Nothing special.”

“Still jealous of their squad’s luck, though. They somehow scored the entry method for the Peaches of Immortality Garden Dungeon. Queen Mother’s been gone for years, and her inheritance never popped up. Whoever nabs it is rocketing straight to the top.”

“Peach Garden leads to Yao Pool. Yao Pool unlocks Heavenly Court. Who’s running the Heavenly Court path? Better hustle before someone raids your house.”

“Shang boss is on the Path of Entropy, though. Got nothing to do with Heavenly Court.”

“Who said it doesn’t? Path of Entropy can branch into order, and order’s the core of Heavenly Court—immortal ranks, sealed gods, the works. Who wouldn’t wanna be Celestial Emperor? Not some podunk local god from a small world… Who knows, maybe Heavenly Court path maxes out by rebooting a whole new space like the Reincarnation one, sucking in souls from the Myriad Worlds to punch the clock.”

“Queen Mother was one of the top Players back in the day.”

“All thanks to her hubby, though? That bastard’s got half his roots in the Classic of Mountains and Seas. No wonder finding the Queen Mother’s leftover Peach Garden key was a cakewalk for him compared to regular Players.”

“Look at you talking like that—sour grapes much? So many players have Classic of Mountains and Seas origins, but none of them found it. Nope, it took a half-breed to do it. Sigh, talk about infuriating! Qiongqi, Bai Ze, Taotie, Nine-Tails—these are all purebred Classic of Mountains and Seas beasts. Any players with those five origins who found it before? Nope! They couldn’t! But this guy? Pure dumb luck.”

“I can’t believe this moron even has fans. Get out of the Reincarnation Space.”

“Think anonymity lets you run your mouth? Just wait—I’ll get someone to dox you.”

“Rumor has it Shang Yu isn’t with his team anymore. He headed off to some godforsaken little world without even telling his captain the exact coordinates. Who knows what he’s up to.”

“No wonder that mongrel’s been losing it lately. Heh heh, serves him right. The mongrel got ditched—now that’s good news.”

“Upstairs must be from the Kunpeng Clan, right? How else do you explain all that hate? Mad that a half-breed’s stronger than most of your pure-blood Kunpengs? Lol, got you triggered!”

“Little rumor? More like insider info. You think they’d share paid intel like that with us?”

Sophia spotted that message, and her eyes narrowed slightly.

“Maybe he’s off licking his wounds. Queen Mother of the West’s inheritance isn’t something you just grab lol. He’s no God Lord with full mastery of the Path of Entropy, either. I ran into his teammates buying recovery items before.”

“Why hole up in some backwater world to heal, though? That doesn’t add up. What if that little world is hiding some real treasure… like…”

“Enough already. Keep going and this thread gets deleted. DM me—my Spirit Net ID is xxxx.”

“Hiss, that tracks. So Queen Mother of the West’s inheritance is in the backwater world he went to?”

…

Once the thread had built up enough, Sophia screenshotted it all and forwarded the lot to Luo Shang.

“Went fishing on the forums to scope out the latest rumors about you. Caught something interesting.”

[Screenshot] [Screenshot] [Screenshot]

“Your run at Queen Mother of the West’s dungeon was way too high-profile. Someone’s itching to spread rumors. Oh, and I didn’t leak your location.”

“Thanks, got it.”

To Sophia’s surprise, Luo Shang replied almost immediately.

“I’ll handle it myself and sort it out quick. You can buy the details off me when I get back.”

Luo Shang skimmed the messages and got the gist.

Before returning to his Native World, he and his teammates had indeed raided the Peach Garden left behind by Queen Mother of the West.

After her disappearance, the secret realm she’d bequeathed had vanished as well. Luo Shang had earned entry to the Peach Garden during the dungeon two cycles back. He’d randomly pulled his team in, braved life-or-death trials, and secured clearance for the Peaches of Immortality Garden Dungeon. Now, that access right was in his hands.

Control that resource hub, and his team wouldn’t have to worry about funds or strengthening materials for centuries—maybe even millennia.

But claiming the secret realm wasn’t easy. Queen Mother of the West had been gone for thousands of years, and mutations had turned the Peach Garden deadly. With other Reincarnation Space players eyeing it too, the risks matched the rewards.

Luo Shang had come back this time to purge the Fate Line’s influence, suspecting his rivals might include someone skilled at manipulating Destiny.

As for Sophia, he planned to sell her some mid-grade Peaches of Immortality.

Sure, she acted like she was all-in on his side—but that was just a front.

If she were truly loyal, she wouldn’t have sold that Peach Pit. She’d have come straight to him with word that someone wanted to buy it.

Selling the pit might let the buyer glean intel from it and track him to his Native World. No different from handing over his world’s coordinates outright—the only gap was time and roundabout effort.

Sophia probably knew as much. So she’d flipped the script: sold the pit, then tipped him off about the buyer for some insurance.

Classic two-way bet. No matter who won, she came out ahead.

If the buyer triumphed, she still had the favor of selling them the pit—after all, she could’ve refused, and none of this would’ve happened.

If Luo Shang won, her heads-up served as a preemptive disclaimer: I’m on your side.

Plus, she’d leveraged the whole thing to score the Peaches of Immortality she wanted—tangible gain.

Friends? Sure. But friends weren’t forever. Interests were.

Luo Shang knew it well: in the entire Reincarnation Space, the only one who’d stand by him unconditionally, considering his position without strings, was Ke Yanjin.

He thought it was time to accelerate the plot progress here.

The matters in the Reincarnation Space could be entrusted to Ke Yanjin and his own teammates to handle. He was no longer struggling alone.