Chapter 110: Breaking the Illusion

“As expected, even if the body is consumed by flames, the lingering obsession does not dissipate—it was waiting for this one sentence…”

With the words “I love you,” the surrounding scenery seemed to dissolve like flowing water.

It was no longer a snowy, stormy night, but daytime, bright and clear. The location remained a dilapidated mountain god temple, with its old wooden doors and weathered statues of the mountain god, the judge, and little ghosts. Inside the temple, beneath the altar table, stood a fire basin, long since extinguished.

An old man leaned against the table leg, his snow-white, tangled hair slanting to one side, utterly still—clearly lifeless.

“He’s dead. No wonder I couldn’t absorb the intense emotions emanating from him earlier.”

In his mind, Yan Luo pieced together the story: on a snowy night, the old man had come to this mountain god temple, chilled to the bone. Reflecting on a lifetime of poverty and hardship, a sudden surge of emotion seized him, leading him to throw a puppet into the fire basin.

The puppet burned through the night, bringing warmth until dawn. But once the impulse passed, regret flooded the man’s heart—he had lost the only companion he had in life, perhaps even his sole spiritual anchor. The elderly man died in the ruinous temple, overwhelmed by remorse.

The puppet was consumed by fire, and the old man passed away—the lingering obsession transformed into this very illusion.

Now, reflecting on the moment just passed, Yan Luo realized that what had been broken was not a single illusion but two. One was the old man’s regret for burning the puppet, which Yan Luo had saved—albeit within the illusion—thus dispelling that obsession.

The second was the puppet girl’s own lingering attachment, the countless memories of decades spent with her master that had repeatedly surfaced.

A puppet with feelings could be regarded as a “ghost” in terms of its soul. Ghosts have emotions, too; even when cast into the fire by its master, it bore no resentment, sacrificing its body to provide a single night of warmth. Yet the puppet girl’s soul retained a stubborn obsession.

It was simply one word: “love.”

When Yan Luo, as Xiasheng, spoke those words—“I love you”—the obsession vanished.

“Main quest complete. You will return to the surface world in one hour.”

There had probably been a main quest prompt upon entry, but trapped in the illusion, Yan Luo hadn’t heard it. Checking now, he found the main quest in this world was remarkably simple, fitting for a Level 1 realm—easier even than a novice task. One only needed to recognize that everything seen was an illusion.

There was no need to solve or break it; simply realizing one was inside an illusion, even if deeply entranced and unable to pull free, would prompt the system to return the occupant to the surface world after some time.

Of course, Yan Luo had done more than just recognize it—he had broken the illusion, which surely had its benefits. The quest rewards would be settled upon departure, and with an hour remaining, he planned to search the dilapidated temple for anything valuable he might take with him.

Just like rummaging through chests in an RPG.

The mountain god temple was sparse and simple, almost ruined. The golden-armored mountain god, judge, and little ghost statues held no value. As for the puppet girl, once breathtakingly beautiful, she had clearly turned to ashes in the fire basin.

Saving the puppet had happened only within the illusion.

Squatting beside the old man’s corpse, Yan Luo suddenly noticed that the head tilted to one side was not resting with closed eyes—the eyes were wide open!

The exposed eyes were glazed over, void of any sparkle.

He also noticed the man’s right hand was clenched tightly.

“What is he holding?”

Yan Luo tested the frail, claw-like fingers. Even with his current strength, it took some effort to pry them open. In the palm lay a handful of white dust and a small, charred bead necklace.

It was the very same one from the puppet girl’s hairpin.

“So, I suppose they truly died together.”

The bead strand was cheap and half-burned; not only was it worthless, but even if he could carry it away, it held little value. The handful of dust was presumably the puppet’s ashes.

Yan Luo gazed upon the old man, whose eyes seemed frozen in restless sorrow, as if pleading or lamenting something.

“If you can no longer possess it, the only thing left is not to forget…”

“To remember for all eternity, life after life.”

He gently closed the old man’s eyelids. At that moment, a murky tear slipped from the corpse’s eye, falling to the ground. Yet it did not dissipate; instead, it crystallized into a small bead-like gem, dull in color and about the size of a soybean.

Yan Luo picked it up. The system’s prompt read:

“Tear of Lamentation: A tear infused with intense emotion and obsession—originating from a puppet master, containing feelings of regret, sorrow, and attachment.”

Seeing this, Yan Luo immediately wondered if it could be used with his Heartless Puppet. However, testing it revealed no response from his innate talent—he could not absorb its emotions, nor did the bead exhibit any unusual fluctuations.

“Perhaps… my Heartless Puppet’s level isn’t high enough yet…”

Of course, the Heartless Puppet’s abilities were not limited to merging with personas or combining heroic soul masks. At Level 2, it unlocked the skill to extract masks; one could imagine that Levels 3 and 4 would bring even more and stranger powers. Yan Luo instinctively felt that the Tear of Lamentation was material needed by the Heartless Puppet but, unfortunately, it could not be used at this stage.

“Since I’ve gained something from you, I’ll do a little for you in return.”

An hour later, on a dirt mound beside the mountain god temple, a low grave appeared. Yan Luo dismantled the temple’s altar table into wooden planks and bundled the corpse within. The handful of puppet ashes was naturally buried alongside the old man.

There was no tombstone, only a wooden plaque serving as a spirit tablet, carved by Yan Luo’s sword with the inscription: “Tomb of Xiasheng and Yiyi.” Beside it was a poem:

“From mist and waves to ash,
Burned to the end without regret,
May this life’s bond
Bring perfection to the next.”

“Quest complete. Proceeding to settlement.”

“Main quest completed: 1000 bio-energy, 1 gene point.”

“Dispelling two obsession illusions: 2 gene points.”

Strictly speaking, this Level 1 world’s rewards paled compared to the Ancient Greek world—only a thousand bio-energy points and three gene points. Nonetheless, Yan Luo was pleased. First, the three gene points were quite valuable. He hadn’t exerted much effort aside from climbing some mountain paths—it was pleasantly easy.

Secondly, he had safely experienced a glimpse of the supernatural realm.

“Just one illusion almost ensnared me… What if this were a higher-level supernatural world? What if I faced powerful spirits or monsters? My physical body is decent now, with energy from the Olympic flame, far more destructive than ordinary psychic energy, plus the power of speech…”

“To prepare for encounters with the supernatural in Level 2 worlds, maybe I should activate certain genes in the perception domain—like basic spiritual awareness… But then again, it’s unlikely the first mandatory world after the novice quest would contain actual spirits.”

Yan Luo pondered quietly as the light and shadows around him shifted violently. In a ripple of space-time, he returned to the surface world—specifically, the hallway of Wang Dongwei’s apartment building.