Zhige quickly swung through the air where Yue was once standing, creating a sharp ringing sound.

“She’s not here,” I confidently declared.

If she was, Zhige would have found her and sliced her apart, regardless of whatever arc spells or scenarios she might’ve been under. I was confident, however, that she wasn't, and I needed to prove my power to Chang and the gods. These rooms strayed from what I had originally written—but I was the writer, nonetheless. The arc quickly pieced itself together in my head.

Hindsight activated!

Countless rows of black theater chairs surrounded all of us, and just at the end, there was a glass wall. I peeked over and noticed that we were on the theater balcony, and below us was a still dark stage.

“Peijin, what are you thinking?” Yang asked me, stepping forward to look over the edge with me.

“Now I’m thinking about your annoying voice.”

“...”

Yue’s poster was the most disturbing in my opinion, even though Yang’s had been the most... peculiar. In it, she was being brutally stabbed through by hundreds of weapons, and her face was covered by the theatrical yet horrifying half-smiling half-crying mask.

My blood suddenly ran cold, and my gaze quickly jumped between each party member.

“What is it? Peijin?” Yang asked, growing increasingly nervous. His face fell, his lower lip quivering, as he came to the same conclusion.

The lights to the stage now flickered on, blaring down on a small female figure proudly standing. Behind her were four other figures—their features were completely indistinguishable and they shifted and floated like a black fog.

Ghosts.

Yang’s voice shook, and he quickly grabbed my arm, shaking it. “But I wouldn’t do that!”

In the original poster, there were multiple weapons piercing through the masked Yue: a dao, a staff, and a jian. At the time, I wouldn’t have considered such a miniscule detail. Yet now that we had cleared through countless dungeons, they became the three weapons the rest of us were carrying.

But the fourth weapon… it was a spear; in the poster, there was only one—and it was piercing straight through her heart.

The four figures on stage behind Yue slowly transformed, their bodies warping and shifting to encompass my party's features perfectly. They now took the form of two men, one woman, and a young girl. The illusion was so masterfully crafted that they looked identical to all of us.

Mine stood back for a moment and turned to face me, bringing a small finger over her lips in a ‘silence’ gesture.

“Backstabbing,” I murmured under my breath. “That’s her biggest fear.”

Divinity 'Supreme Commander of the Heavenly Hosts' feels pitiful for Disciple Yue.

Observer 'Socrates': Jia Li you should be nicer to your party members. You're probably the cause of her fear.

Wei reacted first, holding onto his sword and stabbing the glass barrier. Sparks flew off and landed on his skin, but with an echoing boom, he was sent flying back.

Not a single scratch showed on the glass.

This was a psychological room, and these were by far the most ruining and horrifying for the victims. By unleashing such a deep and core fear, the chance a disciple could become traumatized and never recover was high; in fact, most would end up killing themselves before escaping.

Yue’s memory of the poster and her senses would be severely diminished, and she’d inherently be reliant on the puppet versions of my party. For someone as headstrong and stubborn as Yue, such a dungeon room would be absolutely crippling.

Yang rushed forward and elongated his staff, stabilizing it between the back of the theater and the glass. It was a feeble attempt to use the back of the room as a solid wall to pierce through the glass, but his staff instead shot straight through the wall.

“Yue!”

There were two ways to pass: one, Yue quickly recognized the mental manipulation and finished the room; two, Feiyu broke her out.

In Surviving My First Run, Yue’s dungeon wasn’t centered around abandonment, although it still was a psychological room. With a mighty roar, Feiyu raised his sword to the sky, called down a god, and tore apart the entire dungeon.

Was I Feiyu?

No.

Was Yue strong enough to withstand the room alone?

Maybe, but probably not considering that part of her fear was me abandoning her.

Scathing Reviewer activated!

A foreign pang pierced my chest. I was a part of Yue’s biggest fear, even though I had written a predetermined fear for her. Was it that fundamental of a shift in her character, or were my words not as set in stone as I thought?

I stabbed Zhige straight at the glass, and its red eye blinked wildly at me, the eyelid fluttering. Under its immense pressure, the glass seemed to warp around Zhige like hot plastic, trying to mold the two together.

Zhige quickly shrunk into my hand before elongating once it escaped the shifting glass. On the stage, Yue was solving puzzles with the puppet party, running around a stage that resembled a complicated maze. In her hand was a cube, and with every twist, certain maze corridors would shift.

The puppet version of Amelia suddenly wandered into a hall out of Yue’s vision.

The stimulation was now truly starting.

Wei cried out, his knuckles bleeding from his desperate attempts at breaking through the glass. His chest heaved with every breath, and his shoulders were beginning to slump in defeat. “Peijin, what do we do? Do you have a plan this time?”

Yang’s expression was cold and hard, and he continued to violently bash at the glass; blue waves erupted like raging waves out of each hit. Amelia had summoned the dire wolf, as the sea serpent was too large, but even its vicious fangs and claws wouldn’t leave a scratch on the glass.

“I’m thinking!” I shouted back, my hands trembling fiercely.

Damnit. What the hell, there was no way I could get the luck of the protagonist. In Feiyu’s dungeon, he received a rare item that would allow him to call down a god for an arc.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Wei grew more and more desperate, his strikes becoming quick and frantic. “Can you call down a god like you did with Artemis?” His voice was high-pitched, and I could barely hear him over the sounds of Yang’s strikes.

Warning! Many gods are glaring at you with overwhelming animosity.

Artemis' descent was a bootleg attempt at the same premise, but without the item, she had faced the immediate consequences of karma despite manifesting in the weak form of a child. She would undoubtedly have faced immense scrutiny from the other Greek gods, but it was a risk she took in hopes of securing Amelia as a disciple.

Yue held the cube in her hand, examining it with puppet Yang. The maze-like corridors pressed them closely together, and puppet Yang was twisting and interlocking the different pieces with one another to shift the doors of the maze.

Glancing up at him with a strange expression, Yue seemed a bit confused by puppet Yang’s demeanor.

Please, let her realize. She knew it just as well as I did—Yang was frightened of her and trembled everytime she was near. Yet here, puppet Yang moved confidently and intelligently.

Such a sight seemed to send Yang into an even greater frenzy as he continued to violently swing at the glass. Amelia’s eyes welled with tears, and her brows knitted together as she looked down at the pitiful situation.

“Amelia, can you use stone’s aura to get through the glass?” My voice raised an intonation out of the pressure I began to feel. Puppet Wei had slipped away into one of the corridors.

Amelia quickly activated the skill before reaching her hand out to touch the glass. Her hand slipped right through, and she looked up at me with large, hopeful eyes.

I grabbed onto her arm and quickly pulled it back. “Don’t go in there. Yue will think that you’re the imposter.”

“We’re running out of time, Peijin!” Wei ushered me. “At any moment, your puppet or Yang’s puppet is going to leave!”

“I’m not blind, Wei! I can literally see that happening!” My eyes were still glowing blue from the activation of hindsight.

Even though Yue seemed to be growing suspicious, she hadn’t realized that the puppet versions were ulterior versions of the party. If I were writing this scene, how would I have it play out? The people who Yue would least expect to betray her would lead her to the very end before backstabbing her, leaving her trapped. It would've been the ultimate heartache for her.

I looked up, shouting toward the ceiling of the theater.

“Bull Demon King! Sign a contract with me!”

His silhouette immediately vanished from above me.

Demon 'Great Sage Who Pacifies Heaven’ adamantly declines!

…

“What the hell do you mean no?” I angrily shouted. “Do you want your disciple to die? You’d be a complete laughing stock given how powerful you are!”

Observer 'Socrates': Because you're poor, I'll lend you enough spiritual energy to talk to him. But if you let Yue die, I'm reporting you

Report me for what? I didn't even do anything.

Demon ‘Great Sage Who Pacifies Heaven’ asks what you want.

“Grant me the ability to use stone’s aura for the next five minutes.”

Demon Great Sage Who Pacifies Heaven’ says that is an even greater violation of the rules than Artemis.

“Are you saying you’re weaker than her? You can recover from that.”

The constant bangs and slashes of the party’s weapons continued on the glass.

Demon ‘Great Sage Who Pacifies Heaven’ says he’ll agree to a contract if you pay the price for the violation.

“What do you want in exchange?”

Demon ‘Great Sage Who Pacifies Heaven’ says he’ll agree to a contract if you feed him an immediate family member.

“...”

I forgot he was a gross cannibal in Journey to the West.

However, his words had reminded me of a third method.

I pulled down on one of the black theater chairs, pushing down the cushion to sit on it. Zhige was sheathed on my hip as I shut my eyes with my feet planted in the ground.

Gods like Hermes were famous for gambling, but in Surviving My First Run, such sins were much more prosperous in the Ghost realm. Red light districts, gambling, alcoholism—all of it ran rampant in Ghost cities.

Deals were far riskier, but they were faster and direct with no compromise needed. With Wei, Yang, and Amelia distracted, I began to whisper under my breath.

“Chance Sought Gold Serendipity… I would like to wager a bet with you.”

A few moments passed, yet nothing happened.

“Ahem," I loudly cleared my throat, "Chance Sought Gold Serendipity. I would like to wager a bet with you.”

This time, a long and empty pause ensued.

“What the hell, are you too entitled to answer or something? I said I’d like to wager a bet!”

Suddenly, a pair of small red dice rolled out from beneath the chair and before my feet. They quickly stilled and the bright white dots taunted me, an ominous air to them.

Chance Sought Gold Serendipity was a powerful Ghost King, though he spent most of his time gambling. Although he was practically a master and had never lost, he was always fair whenever it came to bets that did not involve him personally.

Many disciples would travel to the Ghost realm and make countless bets: death of an enemy, infinite stars, to pass a scenario. To grant such wishes, Chance Sought Gold Serendipity had to be powerful enough to snap his fingers and confidently declare, “There, your reward has been granted.”

However, each bet came with an immense risk.

I stared down at the dice. “Allow Amelia to temporarily transfer her skill stone’s aura to members in the same party.”

A small flame appeared beside the dice before it quickly vanished, leaving a piece of rustic looking paper with inked black letters.

Big reward. You want me to save a life, mess up the scenario, and transfer skills. What are you betting?

“I’ll bet ten years of my life.”

The note burned to ash before a new one appeared.

Not enough.

Editor’s Pen activated!

Lower the betting amount when gambling with ghosts.

Edit granted.

“I’ll bet you twelve years of my life," I repeated.

The note stayed, signaling that my payment if I lost still did not suffice.

Really? Even with it being lowered?

“Seventeen years.”

With a quick burst of flames, the note vanished and the dice rolled closer to me.

Roll higher than or equal to seven to win.

I reopened the editor’s pen skill once more. Even though I had bet seventeen years of my life, I didn’t plan on actually losing. It was a game of complete chance, and I knew Chance Sought Gold Serendipity wouldn’t interfere.

A disciple’s first bet will be a win for them.

Error! Impossible within karmic restraints.

As expected. My original input was too far of a stretch, but the system would automatically adjust my edit to the maximum capacity. I wasn’t sure what that was, so allowing the system to decide was the most risk-free.

Potential edit: On a disciple’s first roll, their luck will be tenfold.

My finger tapped on the “accept” screen, and the blue screen vanished with a blip. My breath was shaky and shallow as I took the dice, shutting my eyes and shaking them around my enclosed hands. A tenfold increase was enough to practically guarantee me a number over seven.

With a deep inhale, I gave one last shake and threw the dice on the ground.