Li Pingtian’s face was expressionless as she took a sip of tea. It wasn’t good tea—not compared to what the Church served—but…

“I came with business. Now there’s none.” She set down the cup, ready to leave.

If she’d known this scene awaited her, she might never have shown up before these two. They were truly *living*.

During her missionary work, she’d met Zou Moan. His rapid leveling-up was legendary—even the Church whispered about the battle-crazed prodigy of Yinai City, a star destined to shine at the next Magic Academy Assembly.

And then there was her own relentless hustle.

Compared to Wang Qi and Zhang Yemiao, she and Zou Moan weren’t living at all.

A line from an ancient treant’s essay surfaced in her mind: *“A thick, sorrowful barrier now stands between us.”* Li Pingtian couldn’t recall the original context—something about feudalism, perhaps—but she felt that barrier now, real and cold, between herself and her two former roommates.

So yes. No business remained.

Even if she’d needed their help, she couldn’t shatter their quiet life. Tea finished, Li Pingtian rose to go.

Wang Qi stopped her.

“What’s really wrong?”

Li Pingtian’s gaze was glacial, unyielding. Most would wilt under such eyes—but Wang Qi knew her too well. He ruffled her hair. “Stop sulking. I know you better than anyone. What’s eating you?”

“…Nothing.” Her voice stayed flat. Wang Qi’s eyes flicked downward. Her leg trembled slightly.

*Familiarity sees through lies.* She was already wavering.

“Ah!” Wang Qi sucked in a sharp breath as the Dorm Leader twisted his waist—not painful, but startling. He turned to find Zhang Yemiao glaring.

*Am I in a love triangle?* No. Even if the Dorm Leader liked him, Li Pingtian didn’t. Just his imagination.

Zhang Yemiao released her frustration over their intimacy. She knew Li Pingtian would never speak honestly with her present—pride ran deep in that girl.

“I’ll check the fields. You two talk.”

They hadn’t been close roommates, but Zhang Yemiao understood: Li Pingtian wouldn’t come here unless it was critical. *Dangerous*, even. If she could’ve handled it alone, she would have. If she couldn’t trust others, she’d have walked away.

*Annoying.*

*But not really.*

Wang Qi would agree to anything—unless Li Pingtian confessed her love. Which she never would.

When Li Pingtian said *“I came with business. Now there’s none,”* Zhang Yemiao knew their feelings hadn’t reached that depth. That’s why she’d left them alone.

*When did I become this sly?* She’d always been the honest one. *Wang Qi’s fault. Falling for him turned me cunning.*

Zhang Yemiao strode through the field, mud staining her shoes. She pictured the harvest waiting ahead.

Her eyes snapped to a spot in the distance. Hidden blades coiled in her sleeve.

“You’ve grown stronger, little girl.”

A translucent woman materialized midair—matted hair veiling her eyes, ragged as a beggar.

“You’re the bead.” Zhang Yemiao’s voice turned icy. “Wang Qi buried you. You must’ve tricked him.”

She wasn’t stupid. Waking up that day, she’d known Wang Qi saved her. The bead? He’d hidden it. Since he didn’t mention it, she hadn’t asked.

The specter seemed surprised. “You’re sharper than you look.”

“I’m not dumb enough to be mocked by someone who never finished elementary school.” Zhang Yemiao stayed alert but unafraid. If Wang Qi buried this thing here, it was safe.

She stepped precisely into her own footprints, backing away.

“As long as you don’t touch my vessel… clever girl.”

“I’ve been fooled by you once.” Zhang Yemiao stared at the ghost. “Why show yourself now? Wang Qi rejected your deal. I will too.”

The specter opened her mouth—

“Even if you offered what I want.”

Zhang Yemiao cut her off. “Hope I level up slowly. Or I’ll erase your soul in minutes. How’s *that* for arrogance?”

“You wrecked my home, then drained my life. What *are* you?”

Zhang Yemiao turned away, inspecting her crops. The specter faded without a word.

She exhaled. Truth was, she’d been terrified—just a brush with that thing had nearly drained her dry. That’s why she’d followed her footprints. No life drain meant safe ground.

*But why would it only appear where the bead’s buried? What if it lured me into stepping wrong?*

Still, she felt satisfied. Her performance? Flawless.

She pumped a tiny fist. “Yeah~” No one saw her grin—except maybe the specter, who’d probably find it sickening.

Inside the house:

“Creating a god? You want to *become* a Deity?”

Li Pingtian nodded. “Serving the gods only gives me scraps. The competition among divine agents is fierce…”

“So you’d forge your own godhood. Harvest all the faith yourself?”

“Yes.”

Wang Qi rubbed his chin. This was complicated. They understood this world now—not like when they first arrived.

Near impossible.

Li Pingtian couldn’t do it alone. Only he and Zhang Yemiao could help.

“First: Yinai City won’t work. It’s near the plains, but the faiths are already carved up.”

“Second: War zones breed belief fastest. But planting faith there takes power we don’t have.”

Li Pingtian nodded.

Wang Qi fell silent. “Do you really have to go back?”

“…”

Her silence was answer enough.

An awkward quiet stretched between them—once inseparable friends. Li Pingtian broke it first. “I know it’s hard. Don’t force yourself. Seeing this home… I knew you wouldn’t abandon the Dorm Leader for me.”

“It’s not that—”

She shook her head, face still blank, voice clinical. “Just as I must return, you must protect her. So—no business remains.”

Wang Qi couldn’t help her. Her ambition was too vast. They were just students, after all. Even with cheat skills, their worldliness from the information age meant little here.

Creating a god wasn’t about good deeds. It meant bloodshed. Sacrifice. Ruthless struggle.

Did they have that resolve?

The weight crushed him. Teeth gritted, Wang Qi forced out: “I can’t help you with this.”

Li Pingtian—ever expressionless—smiled. Wang Qi had no words for that smile.

“This is enough, Wang Qi.” Her voice held both joy and loss. “You’re still you. Still unchanged… yet changed.”

In happier times, Wang Qi might’ve teased her for speaking in riddles. Not now. He understood.

Li Pingtian left. Her silhouette stretched long under the setting sun. *A solitary figure and her shadow*, Zhang Yemiao thought.

Later, Zhang Yemiao faced Wang Qi. “Why did you refuse her?”

He just looked at her.

Something pierced her chest. *Because of me.* He’d refused for her sake. She should feel cherished—he chose her over Li Pingtian—but it also meant…

She was his anchor. His burden.

“Wang Qi,” Zhang Yemiao said, turning toward the sunset. “Fight me. A real fight. Hold nothing back.”