COZMART: Corner Shop of Visiting Gods

Far above the bustling arena, Mount Kunlun stood stark—a jagged crown etched from sheer ice and snow.

Though the arena perched at an elevation that seemed like the mountain's peak to most eyes, the truth was more elusive. Hidden trails snaked upward, weaving illusions thin enough to escape even seasoned immortals' notice, so subtle only a handful knew they existed at all.

Two figures trudged through the blizzard-veiled path now, cloaks snapping against the gust. Ahead, Taeril led with a careless stroll, boots barely disturbing the snow. Behind him, considerably less enthusiastic and more hypothermic, trailed Li Wei, weighed down by a coat thick enough to insulate a tank, teeth chattering beneath a scarf wrapped tight.

Li Wei shot an irritated look at the White Tiger's back, which showed no sign of fatigue, nor any apparent interest in human discomfort. He'd worked with the divine long enough to understand that immortals operated on a set of rules more arcane and irrational than RealmNet's algorithm updates.

Yet Taeril White—the great Bai Hu—had always been in a category of his own. Most immortals followed predictable incentives—karma cultivation, mortal devotion, or sheer boredom. Taeril was none of that. The White Tiger's whims were famously impossible to read, a cryptic mix of intentions and misdirection—a chessmaster who pretended not to care about the game.

It made him the hardest deity for Li Wei to fathom. And the hardest to handle.

The mortal commander's voice cut through the frigid silence. "Remind me again," he growled, breath fogging in front of his face, "why exactly am I freezing my ass off doing unpaid overtime on a secret hiking trail? I don't even get dental coverage, let alone frostbite insurance."

Taeril paused briefly, casting a glance back and eyes gleaming with mild amusement. "Birdwatching."

Li Wei's left eye twitched violently. He adjusted his scarf and uniform, tugging them against the wind's relentless slaps.

"Birdwatching?" he repeated, disbelief etched into every syllable. "You dragged me through a path hidden by divine qi illusions, in minus-fifty weather… to look at birds? What birds? Frozen ones?"

Taeril ignored the outburst, stopping beside a small rocky ledge jutting unremarkably from the snow. Without ceremony, he dropped to a crouch. His fingers brushed accumulated ice aside, exuding the kind of confidence reserved exclusively for immortals who had long ago forgotten the discomfort of frostbite. Li Wei approached from behind, suspicion battling curiosity.

"Really—what are we actually looking for here?" He frowned, craning over the man's shoulder. "Secret relic? Forbidden knowledge? Or a conveniently isolated spot for disposing of mortal bodies?"

A pause. Li Wei hesitated suddenly, suspicion darkening his features. "You're not finally killing me to avoid paying interest on that debt, are you?"

"Relax, Captain Li." Taeril scoffed, still brushing snow aside. "The astronomical debt remains safely unpaid, exactly how you prefer it."

"Comforting." Li Wei's shoulders sagged with a mix of relief and despair. "Then really—what is it?"

Taeril paused, expression growing uncharacteristically contemplative. "A stupid bird."

"…"

Li Wei stared blankly, prepared to reply—but stiffened at what Taeril unearthed from the ice. First, his hands stilled. Then carefully, reverently even, he lifted something nestled within the snow—a luminous crimson egg, veins of smouldering gold threaded beneath its delicate shell. Despite the freezing surroundings, it radiated gentle heat, casting flickering shadows onto Taeril's pale features.

For once, Li Wei was entirely speechless. He unknowingly took a step back, staring at the egg as if it might explode or sprout fangs at any second. "Is that...?"

"The Vermillion Bird." Taeril's expression twitched, his usual sardonic mask slipping just a fraction. "Idiot bird keeps immolating herself every few centuries out of sheer stubbornness. Always reborn, never learns."

Li Wei edged closer, fascinated despite himself. "You've got to be kidding. The actual Vermillion Bird—one of the Four Guardians? Here? In egg form?"

Taeril glanced down at the glowing shell, fingers tightening as memories seemed to sweep across his gaze. "Qing Long and I used to come up here to fetch her every time she managed to reincarnate. Found her curled up exactly here, sulking like an oversized chick."

He paused, a faintly wry expression surfacing.

"The Guardians were… closer then."

His voice trailed off, eyes momentarily distant, before sharpening again. "But after things fractured between us, I suppose she's been stuck here in egg form ever since."

Silence settled between them, punctuated only by the wind. Taeril rarely shared genuine moments of his past—immortals seldom did, especially those carrying millennia of buried feuds and tangled alliances.

Finally, Li Wei took a shaky breath, the gravity of the situation sinking in. His tone sobered. "Then why find her now? Why after all these centuries?"

"Because soon enough, we're going to need allies," Taeril said, meeting his eyes with startling intensity. "Allies who remember loyalty beyond celestial politics."

Li Wei narrowed his eyes. He instantly grasped the implications. "You mean—"

"Yes," Taeril murmured, the wind pulling gently at his pale hair.

For a heartbeat, the heavy silence stretched. Then, like flipping a switch, Taeril's serious demeanor vanished—replaced with his habitual lazy drawl. He shoved the glowing egg unceremoniously into Li Wei's arms.

"Congratulations, Captain Li. You're officially mother hen."

Li Wei caught the egg reflexively, staring at it in horror. "What?"

"You heard me." Taeril brushed snow from his coat. "Just keep it warm and alive."

"This isn't an egg—it's a Guardian, a divine responsibility, a celestial hazard."

"Precisely." Taeril was already turning away. "Perfect for someone with your track record."

Li Wei's mouth opened, shut, and then opened again as a torrent of profanity surged within him. He just barely managed to swallow it down, noting the White Tiger's disturbingly serious expression.

"Wait—hold on," he said, thinking desperately. "If you need a bird, why not just ask Lady Meng? She still has that phoenix egg the Jade Deity gave her from the 28th game cycle. I'm sure she wouldn't mind."

Taeril's head snapped around so quickly that Li Wei almost flinched. The white-haired deity looked genuinely offended, eyebrows drawn together with disbelief.

"Comparing a phoenix to the Vermillion Bird?" Taeril scoffed. "Captain Li, you might as well confuse a house cat for a tiger. They're fundamentally incomparable."

Li Wei froze, stunned into silence, feeling any hope of reasonable dialogue crumble. Then, the White Tiger's eyes sparked again—calculating beneath his languid exterior. He leaned in, lowering his voice just enough for it to still deliver amidst the roaring gust.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Besides," Taeril said quietly, "this must stay off-Ledger. The Jade Deity wouldn't exactly smile upon our little egg hunt."

Li Wei frowned. "What do you mean—"

A crackle of static hissed in the air above them, tinged with ethereal secrecy. Li Wei's breath stilled; he recognized Cipher Venerable's handiwork, expertly blocking their trail from the Cloud-Jade Ledger.

Taeril smiled warmly, a genuinely dangerous kind of warmth that he had learned to dread. "Keep this off-Ledger, yes?"

"…You," Li Wei said, squeezing the word out. "You specifically brought me here to discover this egg."

Taeril tilted his head, his smile innocent. "Careful, Captain. Someone might mistake you for being perceptive."

Li Wei let out a groan, aging exponentially on the spot. He should've expected nothing less—an unpaid overtime bird-sitting job, potential inter-realm politics, and now a clandestine conspiracy with the White Tiger himself.

He shook his head, grip tightening around the delicate egg as the White Tiger turned, clearly done with explanations. He watched Taeril stride ahead, completely indifferent to the blizzard battering them.

This was Taeril White—the celestial embodiment of calculated chaos. Yet Li Wei had worked with the man long enough to know nothing he did was without purpose. Every step, every obscure decision was a move carefully placed, consequences predicted long before the game was revealed. The very fact that the White Tiger had chosen to entrust him—the mortal commander—with this card, was itself a calculated move.

A testament to some kind of trust, twisted as it was.

Before he could form a proper response, Taeril patted him firmly on the shoulder. "Well, Captain. Looks like we're back in the same boat."

Bleakly, Li Wei stared down at the glowing egg now nestled in his arms, radiating both literal warmth and metaphorical weight.

"I hate boats."

***

Back in the teams' lounge, with some downtime before dinner, everyone lingered around the holoscreen, idly watching playback montages of earlier matches. Currently on the screen, Erlang Shen's team was systematically dismantling Great Peng's chaotic influencer tactics with unnerving precision.

Eathan stared in awe, watching Erlang Shen's celestial dog herd Peng's phoenix-riders into tight, flawless formations, and Nezha's fiery scooter looping lazily around a desperate opponent.

"I didn't know Erlang Shen's team was this coordinated," he said, bewildered.

Chewie snorted, flicking casually through her RealmNet feed. "I bet their drills involve synchronised breathing."

"Or synchronised blinking," Willow said. "Probably choreographed naps."

Finn nodded. "I heard Nezha once did a synchronised tantrum. Demolished three mountains before lunch."

A moment of silence settled over the team as Erlang Shen calmly finalised the victory, saluting the cameras with practiced dignity.

"How in heaven's bureaucracy did he lose to Lady Foxfire three years straight?" Willow muttered, genuinely baffled.

Eathan considered quietly, then thought of Emily Lutin's attempts to suck his blood. Maybe Erlang Shen's losses were similar—a case of unrequited obsession. At least Lady Foxfire probably wasn't trying to drain Erlang Shen dry like a mortal juice pouch. Probably.

Watching Erlang Shen's seamless victory left him feeling distinctly uneasy. He leaned closer to Chewie. "Think we'd stand a chance against them?"

The eleven-year-old didn't even glance up from her holopad. "Only if they stand still long enough for you to print them a receipt."

Willow stretched leisurely, unfazed. "We'd just need Esther to do her invisible murder-walk again."

"Ready anytime," Esther said, continuing to clean her dagger in the corner.

Eathan opened his mouth, closed it, and decided he wasn't emotionally prepared to unpack that sentence.

When the final match concluded, the teams descended together toward dinner, winding their way deep into a hidden chasm beneath the match arena. RealmNet had finally shut off its broadcast, allowing everyone a temporary escape from the eyes of netizens.

The dining hall unfolded below them like a scene from a fever dream: colossal, crystalline icicles shimmered overhead, refracting multicolored spirit light onto the walls. Towering mushrooms spawned in clusters, serving as living chandeliers while vines framed tables carved directly from obsidian.

Dinner, naturally, was no less surreal.

"Tonight's banquet," a ghostly waiter whispered, voice trickling throughout the chasm, "features ten carefully selected dishes—each harvested from the Six Realms for your culinary enlightenment."

The table groaned under dishes that defied physics and common sense alike. Spiralling jade platters held fruit from the Bodhi realm that pulsed softly with heartbeat-like rhythms. From the Spirit-Beast Realm came steaks carved from creatures that Eathan prayed had willingly volunteered.

Beside him, Willow prodded a translucent soup that appeared to contain the concept of melancholy itself. Finn eagerly dug into something shaped like a starfish, garnished with existential dread.

Eathan's spoon halted abruptly as he stared down into his plate, confronted by what seemed to be a semi-sentient ghostling, flickering and wiggling on the polished surface.

[SYSTEM] NOTIFICATION

Mortal Shock Detected!

[Humanity] has decreased by 1%! (73% → 72%)

"Uh," he whispered, voice small, "are we supposed to eat something…actively haunting the cutlery?"

In the seat beside his, Chewie didn't even hesitate. The eleven-year-old breathed in every delicacy with alarming speed, eyes glued firmly on her holopad. Eathan squinted at her accusingly. "Are you seriously a holopad kid now?"

She shot him a look. "Keep talking. You're interrupting my digestion."

At the central commanders' table, Taeril and Li Wei sat among their fellow commanders. Taeril reclined with an expression suggesting mild disinterest in the multi-realm delicacies. Beside him, Li Wei appeared deeply mourning the death of his tastebuds, pushing a dish that resembled cosmic jelly further away with profound skepticism.

By the final course—a dessert suspiciously shaped like a mix of slime and nebula—the commentators, Yverie and Brother Woo, emerged on a raised obsidian platform, drawing immediate excitement. A few enthusiastic teams erupted into cheers for Yverie, holding glowing signs aloft.

Yverie waved back, her voice energetic as always. "Dearest contestants! We hope you've savoured your divine feast—or valiantly survived it—because next on tonight's agenda is a mental test of cunning and suspicion among our commanders. Get ready for Among the Commanders!"

On cue, the holographic game overview scrolled out behind her:

[GAME TWO]: Among the Commanders

OBJECTIVE: Discover and eliminate traitors among you all!

TIME DURATION: 3 hours.

WIN CONDITION: Identify correctly and vote out the killer(s) before time runs out!

Brother Woo steepled his fingers. "Prepare your alibis, hone your deception, and keep your poker faces divine."

A ripple of amused murmurs swept the room. Commanders exchanged wary glances across the round table, subtle currents threading the air. Eathan watched from afar as Taeril rolled his shoulders, his typically lazy demeanour shifting toward something that seemed dangerously enthusiastic.

Finn leaned toward Esther, whispering with absolute seriousness, "Commander White's probably waited decades for official permission to lie through an entire game."

"His natural habitat, I suppose." Esther replied dryly.

Eathan groaned inwardly. Of course it was.

Meanwhile, Taeril's gaze drifted beyond the tables, ignoring Great Peng cheerfully gnawing on questionable poultry, focusing instead on a distant point on the far-off horizon. For a brief instant, his expression shifted, slipping just enough to hint at something deeper beneath. A faint static buzzed overhead, the briefest indication of Cipher Venerable blotting out the Cloud-Jade Ledger's watchful gaze.

He turned toward Li Wei, who was midway through chewing something that might've been bread, but honestly, who knew at this point?

"Captain Li, did you know?" Taeril murmured, tone thoughtful. "Do you find this year's selection of games peculiar?"

"..."

Li Wei swallowed hard, eyes briefly closing in preemptive dread. "I find everything you bunch do peculiar. But I suppose this takes the cake."

Taeril gazed at him, and after a moment, he sighed in resignation, giving him the sign to continue. "Then what?"

"Perhaps more than just a celebration or a unity-building exercise." The White Tiger's eyes reflected the shifting auroras overhead, suddenly distant, burdened with quiet gravity. "Think of it more as a… trial run."

"A trial run for what exactly?"

"Something older. Something the realms haven't faced in millennia."

Li Wei breathed through his nostrils, the ominous premonition pulling him further down into his seat. "Of course there is."

Before either could say more, Great Peng leaned over, apparently having overheard. He chuckled, a golden wingtip poking at his own temple. "Careful, Captain Li. Every time you ask the White Tiger to be serious, he gains a new dramatic entrance."

Lady Foxfire laughed softly behind her fan, sipping on wine. "Indeed. And some of us seem to have already tired of keeping up appearances."

"Appearances are all some of us have left to preserve." Ao Bing massaged his forehead, noticing her intentional gaze.

"Speak for yourselves." Qiongqi, still smarting from earlier defeats, snarled lightly, arms crossed. "Some of us prefer efficiency."

Wen glanced toward the Demon Commander, silent at first. When the latter turned to him with a haughty chin, Wen retracted his gaze with a nod. "Defeat is also a form of efficiency."

Up front, the commentators resumed, drawing the teams' attention back to the stage. Brother Woo lifted his hand. "Meditate now, divine players. The true battle of wits awaits."

Yverie bounced excitedly beside him. "Or, you know, let chaos reign!"

Eathan, from his distant seat among the participants, watched the immortals' interactions, anxiety creeping up his spine. He exhaled slowly, forcing unease into wary anticipation. If the first game—a glorified divine egg hunt—had already been so precarious, what exactly awaited them in a contest explicitly designed to challenge divine cunning?

He glanced toward Taeril, who had the slightest quirk of a grin flickering across his lips. Eathan swallowed.

This, he decided miserably, was exactly the sort of chaos he'd come to expect.