Ding-ling-ling…
The small bronze chime bell clattered to the ground, its tinkling echoes fading into silence. As the last note dissipated, the crowd abruptly stilled.
For half a minute, utter quiet reigned—until Week Eight was the first to snap out of it, though her head still felt heavy, as if stuffed with lead.
“Xiao Yiyi, what’s wrong?!” Her eyes landed on Su Mo, collapsed on the ground, and she rushed over in a panic.
Su Mo groaned as familiar voices reached his ears, his vision gradually clearing. “…Little Bear.”
Week Eight froze, then clutched her chest in despair. “Oh no. He’s alive, but his brain’s broken.”
Su Mo took a moment to steady himself, feeling strength return to his limbs. “I’m fine. Just checking if you were back to normal.”
“Me? What happened to me?” She pointed at herself, baffled.
“We’ll talk later. First, secure that bell.” His gaze shifted to the small chime lying nearby.
Week Eight followed his line of sight and frowned. “It’s just a little jingle bell…”
She picked it up, examining it curiously—but just as she was about to shake it, Su Mo grabbed her wrist. “Don’t. That thing traps people in illusions.”
Illusions?
Wait—
Fragments of memory flashed through Week Eight’s mind: Pigsy, Monkey King, Gao Village… Big Bear and Little Bear?!
Oh my god, what did I even say back there?!
Instantly, the tiny bell in her hand might as well have been molten steel—she couldn’t move, couldn’t drop it, not even daring to switch hands.
Su Mo ignored her internal crisis, pulling out a red fruit to replenish his energy.
“Give it here.” He took the bell from her, stuffed it with a wad of tissue paper to muffle the sound, and tossed it into his white jade ring.
Only then did Week Eight exhale in relief.
But her eyes lingered on Su Mo with strange wariness. “Yiyi… I’ve always treated you well, right?”
Su Mo knew exactly what she was worried about. “Relax. In that chaos, I definitely didn’t have time to record you.”
“Phew—good.”
They moved toward the rubble, searching for the man’s remains—but aside from a few scattered “parts,” there was nothing left.
Week Eight gulped and gave Su Mo a thumbs-up. “Brutal.“
“I didn’t expect him to be that fragile. Even the Scripture Pavilion’s walls held up better.”
Week Eight: (￢_￢)
Since the area was mostly frequented by supernaturals and rarely ordinary civilians, there were no other casualties—just severe property damage.
As the bystanders shook off the illusions, they kept their distance but lingered, curiosity outweighing fear.
What the hell just happened?
Soon, Beidou operatives cordoned off the site—though notably, they only sealed the ruined section, leaving the rest of the market untouched.
“Wait, isn’t this a black market? Why aren’t they arresting us?” someone muttered nervously.
“Obviously because it’s unofficially sanctioned. They just don’t admit it publicly.”
“But it’s illegal!”
“So? Beidou needs resources, and resources need channels. For all we know, they’re the ones running this place behind the scenes.”
“Shh—you wanna die?!”
“Tch.”
…
Wang Ye arrived personally—a clear sign of Yang Jie’s prioritization of the incident.
Su Mo handed over the tissue-stuffed bell and recounted events (omitting certain embarrassing details).
Week Eight sighed in relief.
Wang Ye studied the chime, his brow furrowed. “This goes deeper than it seems. It might be tied to a tomb robbery.”
“Tomb robbery?” they echoed in unison.
The term—something they’d only encountered in fiction—felt surreal in reality.
“You’re an archaeology major, right? Couldn’t you tell it was an artifact?”
Su Mo rubbed his nose awkwardly. “I’m a freshman. I’ve barely attended any classes. How would I know?”
He added, “But I have seen pictures of chime bells online. The one in my illusion matched them exactly. It’s probably from a pre-Qin dynasty tomb.”
Wang Ye nodded. “Correct. The robbed tomb was from the Warring States period. The owner was a collector—this chime was among his treasures.”
His gaze lingered on Su Mo, weighted with unspoken implications, before he said nothing more.
With their statements given, the two left.
Their plan to browse the black market for useful treasures had backfired spectacularly.
Week Eight, however, remained cheerful. “You’ve got some kind of ‘achievement buff.’ Trouble just finds you.”
“It’s not a buff—it’s bad luck. I keep stumbling into messes.”
“But you always turn it around and walk away with rewards. That’s beyond luck.”
Su Mo pondered this. She had a point.
At Jing Mountain, he’d nearly been possessed but gained the red fruit, white jade ring, and dark flame.
The terrorist attack had been deadly, yet it boosted his cultivation (courtesy of that C-rank Japanese leader).
Even the frog-men incident earned him connections—like Zhang Yue Lu of the Twenty-Eight Mansions.
Then he paused mid-step.
This time, though… Did I get nothing out of it?
Sure, there might be commendations later, but Su Mo would trade all the medals in the world for a pay raise.
Honor’s worthless. Cash and resources are what matter.
“What’s wrong?”
“Just realizing something.”
“Now?” Week Eight eyed him skeptically.
Su Mo deadpanned, “If I don’t think about it now, I’ll forget.”
“What is it? Spill!” Her gossip radar pinged.
Su Mo smirked and beckoned her closer.
Week Eight hesitated but leaned in.
“Little Bear… A bear should act like a bear.” With that, he bolted.
Week Eight stood frozen, her face burning as the earlier humiliation resurfaced—now amplified by his teasing.
“XIAO! YI! YI!” Her shriek trembled with rage.
“You’re dead! When I catch you, I’ll spank you till you can’t sit for a week!” Abandoning all dignity, she sprinted after him.
And so, the streets of Jing City witnessed a rare spectacle: two stunning beauties in a spirited chase, weaving through the crowd like a living painting.
A passing man sighed wistfully:
“Fair maiden, noble suitor… Turns out I’m just a scoundrel.”