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Fortunately, Li Lei's actions temporarily drew the attention of both warring sides.

In the span of a few breaths, he suddenly opened his eyes and, without a second thought, dashed toward one of the passageways. Shortly after entering, a thunderous crash echoed behind him—the sound of the main tomb chamber collapsing.

Before he could even catch his breath, an unsettling sensation gripped him. Li Lei glanced down at his right foot and let out a bitter laugh. "You’ve got to be kidding me."

Meanwhile, in Fang Zhiyi's livestream...

"No idea how that dimension-hopper is doing," Fang Zhiyi muttered lazily, sprawled on the grass under the sun.

Little Hei replied, "Probably not great. Who’d have thought you’d spend all your points on traps?"

"Ghosts are expensive, traps are cheap! Overwhelm them with numbers, you know? People always assume the supernatural is the deadliest in a haunted world, but anything can kill if you’re determined. If that guy’s lucky, he’s already dead."

"Speaking of which, aren’t you going to deal with that meat-eating monk?"

Fang Zhiyi shook his head. "Why should I? He hasn’t bothered me." Over the past two days, the monk had grown even more outrageous—drinking, eating meat, and forcing other monks to do the same. If they refused, he’d beat them. After gorging himself, he’d climb onto the Buddha’s altar and snore like a beast, a true villain among monks. The others endured it silently.

Viewers in Fang Zhiyi’s livestream were puzzled.

"That monk’s definitely the evil spirit, right? Even I can tell."

"He’s so awful. How can Fang Zhiyi just ignore him?"

"Did he just pee on someone’s head?! Holy crap, is this allowed on stream?"

"Fang Zhiyi better succeed. That traitor actually cleared the level."

"That guy’s not human either. Dodging all those traps? Only took an arrow to the butt on his way out."

"Even I, the ‘Soldier King,’ wouldn’t dare say I’d survive. America really lucked out."

"Ugh! That sellout!"

On the morning of the third day, Fang Zhiyi lounged listlessly in a pavilion.

Suddenly, the rogue monk strode over and tossed a greasy paper bundle onto the table, followed by a gourd. He glanced at Fang Zhiyi, then shamelessly unwrapped the package and dug into the sliced roast goose inside, washing it down with swigs of wine, his face radiating satisfaction.

Fang Zhiyi abruptly stood and left. The monk paid him no mind until Fang Zhiyi returned moments later with a bowl. He plopped down, grabbed the monk’s wine gourd, poured himself a drink, and downed it in one go.

The monk stared, then burst into laughter.

Not a word passed between them until sunset, when a deep, resonant bell tolled—the first time Fang Zhiyi had heard the temple’s bell.

The monk frowned.

"You’re sharper than most," he said, standing and wiping his greasy hands on his robes. He pointed to a narrow path. "Go this way later. No matter who calls you, don’t look back."

With that, he marched off toward the main hall.

Inside the hall, the other monks sat cross-legged in their usual spots, heads bowed as if asleep. Then, the golden statues of temple guardians lining the walls began to creak, their joints groaning like twisting wood.

The monk clapped and laughed. "Good, good! I’ve rested enough, and you’re all ready, eh?"

As he spoke, the statues’ outer shells cracked and fell away, revealing grotesque demons beneath.

The monk snorted. "If only I had my staff, I’d purge every last one of you fiends today!"

The largest central statue shuddered, emitting occasional wails.

The monk’s expression darkened. He lunged forward, but the demons descended from their pedestals, blocking his path.

With a grunt, he seized two demons and smashed them together. Their struggles ended swiftly as they dissolved into putrid sludge.

But he couldn’t pause—the worst was still transforming.

Outnumbered, the demons slowed his advance.

"If only I had my kasaya..."

"Where did they hide my sutras?"

Soon, he vanished beneath the swarm.

"Begone." Fang Zhiyi raised his right hand in a sword gesture, left hand forming a seal. To his delight, it worked—a single motion reduced the demon clinging to the monk’s head to ashes.

The monk turned, bewildered. "Why are you still here? Go!"

Fang Zhiyi shook his head. "Felt bad about not helping you find your gear. Leaving now would probably set a record—wonder if there’s a grade below C..."

The monk didn’t understand his words but recognized one thing: this man was terrifyingly strong.

"Wait, so Fang knew the win condition but couldn’t be bothered?"

"What even are his moves? How can he fight the supernatural?"

"Kinda like Li Lei."

"Like hell! Li Lei just got lucky!"

"So gory. So brutal."

"That monk was the good guy?! I’d have fought him on day one."

"Where are the haters now? Come take your L."

"Fang Zhiyi’s nothing special. He’s about to lose."

"Shut your mouth, you damn foreigner!"

The chat erupted into a sea of exclamation marks.

They watched Fang Zhiyi’s brutality—not only did he pummel ordinary spirits, he even forced an evolving demon back into its nascent form.

"His hand signs give me chills."

"Even through the screen, it’s terrifying."

"Sometimes I wonder: is he the monster, or are we?"

"So scaryyyyyy."

"Never seen a human rip a ghost’s head off barehanded."

"May the Lord of Horrors spare me from this madman."

"Kekekekeke."

As midnight approached, Fang Zhiyi held the demon’s severed head in one hand, wiping the other on his clothes. The monk eyed him warily and took two cautious steps back.

"So, you lost your talismans, alms bowl, staff, sutras, and kasaya?"

The monk nodded.

"What’s their deal?"

"Heretic monks. They worship demons." The monk sighed. "I’m a wandering monk. Came here days ago and sensed something wrong. They... aren’t human anymore."