At the end of the road, there is a mist that never seems to end.
A ghost stood at the edge of a cliff, eyes wide, trying to see the face of the ghostly official.
The ghostly official, hooded, lowered his head, and in a voice so hoarse it was almost indistinguishable, he said, "You know the rules. Eighty-two years, three wishes, and one question."
The ghost scoffed. "This again. Last time I wished to be a billionaire, and you sent me to the Jurassic period with a bank card."
"But you still survived, didn't you? And you lived for eighty-two years."
"Do you know what I've been through?"
"I don't want to know. If you want to give up your wish, I can send you down right now."
"Why should I give up? This is my reward!"
"Then hurry up and speak, your time is running out."
The ghost took a deep breath. His greatest dream was immortality.
But starting over from the Jurassic period again seemed too difficult.
"I want to keep my memories, all of them." The ghost made his first wish.
The ghostly official sneered. "Unrepentant. You know this will make survival harder."
"I don't need your concern. A soul with memories is a complete soul. For my second wish, I want a golden finger. You probably don't know what that is, but it's the golden key to an extraordinary life…"
"I know what a golden finger is. That wish can be granted."
"What kind of golden finger will you give me?"
"All of them." The ghostly official raised a finger. "You have one minute. Hurry up and make your third wish."
"All of them? You're too generous. There must be other unlocking conditions."
The ghost thought for a few seconds. This wish was a bit special. What he wanted was not a gift, but a deprivation.
"Take away all my loyalty and mercy."
The ghostly official was stunned. "Why would you do that?"
"In my last life, I was a brilliant gambler and died because of my loyalty. In my previous life, I could have lived longer in the Jurassic period, but I died because of my mercy. In this life, I don't want to make the same mistake."
"You'll turn into a madman."
"Then let me become a madman."
"I can take away your loyalty, but I can only take away ninety percent of your mercy. The remaining ten percent will stay with your golden finger."
"Stay with the golden finger?"
"There's one more question. Hurry up and ask."
Without thinking, the ghost asked, "What is the difficulty of survival?"
"Two steps to hell."
"What does that mean?"
"It means you can only take one step back."
"Be more specific."
"Time's up!"
With an elegant backward kick, the ghostly official sent the ghost flying off the cliff. The mist and sandstorm hit him, and the ghost closed his eyes.
...
It's hot! It feels like something is burning my face.
There's a persistent sharp pain in my leg, like a chunk of flesh has been gouged out.
Is that the smell of burnt meat? It seems someone's roasting meat.
A voice of the ghostly official echoed in his ears, announcing the new life's instructions.
"You are at the crossroads between the Ancient Gods Era and the Age of Divine Punishment, also known as the Third Epoch."
"You are in Iron Mountain Town, Romlu Kingdom, on the continent of Olijino."
"Your name is Mandar."
"You are the illegitimate son of a baron."
"You are in the baron's castle."
"The Age of Gods is fading, ancient beliefs have become heresy, the followers of divine punishment are trampling on the dignity of the ancient gods, temples are being destroyed, believers are being killed, and the wrath of the gods is burning! The bloodline and divine artifacts of the gods have already spread to the human world!"
"On your first day in this world, you cannot kill His followers!"
"Where will you go?"
"You must open your eyes now!"
"Because someone is about to burn your face with a hot iron!"
What kind of logic is this? Why didn't you say the last sentence first?
Mandar immediately opened his eyes. The fiery red hot iron was right in front of him, already making his hair smoke.
A thirteen- or fourteen-year-old, blonde, chubby boy with the branding iron smiled smugly. "I told you, he didn't faint, he was just pretending!"
Who is this person? What's going on? Why is this chubby kid about to harm a newborn? Why is he tormenting someone like this?
Wait, this body isn't a newborn. It's at least over ten years old.
This is the price of making a wish—the ghostly official has stolen his happiest childhood.
Fortunately, the ghostly official kept his word. He granted Mandar his first wish, and the original owner's memories slowly returned.
The boy holding the branding iron is named Fox, the legitimate son of the baron, thirteen years old, one year older than Mandar's original self. Why is he tormenting Mandar so much?
The original owner's memories told him there's no need for a reason. Ever since he had memories, tormenting Mandar had been Fox's greatest pleasure.
"You're awake? Not pretending to be dead anymore?" Fox spat at the hot iron. With a hiss, pungent white smoke rose from the iron. "Guess where I'm going to put this next?"
The pain in Mandar's leg came again, and he looked down to see a palm-sized patch of flesh burned off.
Just moments ago, Fox had pressed the iron to Mandar's thigh. Under the excruciating pain and fear, the original owner's soul left the body, and at that moment, this soul from the Jurassic period took over.
Fox should be the most terrifying person in the original owner's memory. This malicious chubby boy was now aiming the branding iron at Mandar's other leg. Mandar tried to struggle but realized he was firmly bound to a chair.
It seems there's no escaping now. Mandar closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and suddenly, a sweet, bell-like voice rang in his ears.
"Didn't you say you were going to burn his face? Are you scared now?"
Mandar opened his eyes and realized his previous judgment had been wrong. The most terrifying person wasn't the chubby boy—it was this blonde, blue-eyed innocent-looking girl, Sandina, who was three years older than him.
Sandina hated Mandar much more than Fox. When they were little, she sewed Mandar's mouth shut because she hated his crying.
She had many ways of tormenting people, but usually, she didn't do it herself. She'd encourage Fox, and if Fox hesitated, she'd urge her servants, and if they didn't dare, she'd use her pets. Mandar had a scar on his left hand from being bitten by Sandina's hunting dogs.
"Go on, didn't you say you were a man?" Sandina pinched Fox's chubby cheek. "If you dare to burn his face, I'll give you my bagpipes."
Fox hesitated. "Father will scold me, even hit me!"
"Don't worry. Tell him I did it all. He won't blame you. Go on, let me see who's the real man here!"
Sandina gave Fox a slap on the head, and that seemed to give him courage. He stepped toward Mandar again, the red-hot iron once more aimed at his face.
If it burned Mandar's face, he might die.
What would happen if he died like this?
The rules of the underworld are simple: no matter how virtuous or wicked you were in your past life, the only thing that counts is the length of your life.
If you live past fifty, you can reincarnate as a human. If you live past sixty, you get one wish. At seventy, you get two wishes. In his last life, Mandar lived to eighty-two in the Jurassic period, gaining three wishes and one question.
If you die in just a few minutes, you'll have to suffer in hell for centuries before getting a chance to reincarnate.
Mandar struggled desperately, but it was futile. Just as despair set in, the ghostly official's voice rang out again.
"Try using your golden finger."
How? I don't even know what my golden finger is!
"Try using your golden finger," the voice repeated, then fell silent. Mandar, unable to think of how to use the golden finger, moved his fingers weakly.
His fingers grazed the ropes on his wrists. As he fumbled with them, they seemed to change.
It felt like they snapped.
The golden finger worked. The ghostly official kept his promise.
Mandar stared at Fox silently, as if watching a wild dragon on the barren plains in his past life.
This look made the chubby boy uneasy. He spat at Mandar's face. "Bastard, what are you looking at? I'll burn your eyes first!"
"Yes! Burn his eyes!" Sandina laughed loudly. "Let me see the smoke, let me smell it, let me hear the sound!"
"You're as dumb as a pig!" Mandar suddenly spoke, his first time speaking in this world's language. His accent sounded a little strange.
Fox was stunned. "What did you just say?"
"I said you're as dumb as a pig!" This time, the pronunciation was perfect.
Fox's face turned red, and he shouted angrily, "Scream! Scream louder! You're dumber than a pig!"
He
thrust the branding iron at Mandar's eyes, but Mandar suddenly reached out, grabbed Fox's wrist, snatched the iron, and pressed it directly to Fox's face.
The smoke thickened, the smell was sharp, and the screams were loud.
Fox's fat face had even more fat, and the burned skin gave off a slight scent.
Fox fell to the ground, wailing in agony, the iron stuck to his face, unable to be removed. Mandar tore the ropes off, kicked the rolling Fox aside, and used the light from the furnace to observe his surroundings.
The room was full of clutter; it was a warehouse, the basement of the castle. Mandar moved toward the door, but just as he turned, Sandina, who had regained her senses, lunged at him.
"You bastard, wait to die! If you hurt Fox, my mother will turn you into minced meat!"
Mandar pushed Sandina aside but found that the door was locked with a large iron lock.
Sandina lunged again, and Mandar grabbed her by the hair.
"Where's the key?"
"Do you want to escape? You bastard slave! You can't go anywhere! Wait to die!"
Sandina slapped Mandar across the face. Her nails were long and sharp, scratching deep. Mandar wiped the blood from his face, looked at Sandina, and then yanked her head, slamming her face into the wall.
With that, Sandina, who had been yelling, fell silent.
There was no mercy. The ghostly official kept his third promise.
Sandina, blood streaming from her nose and mouth, stared at Mandar. Just a few moments ago, he was still that timid, foolish boy. How had he suddenly transformed into a devil?
"Where's the key?" Mandar asked again.
"You bastard, let go of me now, or…" Sandina tried to threaten him one last time, but instead, she received another violent blow.
Bang! Sandina's head drooped, motionless, neither fainted nor dead.
But Mandar didn't think she was dead. He still had her by the hair and whispered, "Tell me where the key is. If you still won't say, I'll push your head into the furnace."
Sandina's eyes remained tightly closed, but her hands were still moving. She reached into her chest and pulled out a key, handing it to Mandar.
"Pretending, huh?" Mandar tossed Sandina to the ground, then grabbed the branding iron, intending to end her life. Just then, he heard the ghostly official's voice in his ear: "The first day isn't over yet. You can't kill His follower, or it will draw His attention."
"Whose follower? Whose attention? What does that mean?"
"This is the final hint. If you want to return to hell, I'll be waiting for you here."
The ghostly official's voice faded, and the surrounding noise grew louder. Mandar opened the warehouse door and rushed out of the castle as fast as he could.
They found out so quickly. If they catch up with him, he might really be turned into minced meat.
Two steps to hell. These two steps are pushing him too hard! Mandar didn't have time to search the original owner's memories. He ran along the road, charging into the night.
"This isn't running away. This is tactical avoidance of danger."
"Avoidance—can that be considered running away?"
"I'm Mandar, Year 127 of the Third Epoch, November 3rd, on the continent of Olijino. I'm here." Mandar muttered to himself as he clenched his fists.