COZMART: Corner Shop of Visiting Gods

The commanders slowly emerged from their imposed roles, the Forbidden City's infrastructural layout materializing once again within the arena's skin. A stunned silence blanketed the space, broken only by Great Peng's theatrical sighs, Qiongqi's disgruntled grumbling, and Foxfire's amused whispers.

No matter how intense the accusations were inside the illusionary scenario, the immortals knew better than to carry the lingering sentiments back into reality. They could be petty and impulsive, yes, but they were still each commanders of the Six Realms.

Erlang Shen turned toward Taeril, a tint of acknowledgment surfacing beneath the frown.

"Well played, White," he conceded quietly, voice carrying an air of reluctant respect. "I underestimated your cunning."

"You flatter me, Commander Erlang." Taeril merely smiled in return. "If anything, your suspicion provided excellent camouflage. Surely could not have done it without you."

"…"

A faint twitch marred Erlang Shen's eyebrow. After a long, conflicted moment, he sighed and nodded. "I suppose I'll take that as a compliment."

With a satisfied nod at the celestial general's yield, Taeril then turned and met Lady Meng's eyes briefly. A gentle, barely perceptible smile exchanged between the two killers. Beside them, Li Wei slumped visibly, the exhaustion of the psychological warfare draining all from his posture. He glared balefully at the white-haired man.

"Captain Li—"

Just as Taeril attempted to glide forward, he lifted a palm, his voice drenched in emotional fatigue. "Don't talk to me, you gaslighting tiger."

"But Captain." Taeril blinked innocently. "It was only a game. No hard feelings, surely?"

He broke into a deceptively harmless smile, broadcast on the large screen.

On Team 001's bench, stunned silence reigned. Eathan gaped openly, voice barely audible. "Mister White is…"

"A pathological liar? Yeah, I can tell." Finn shuddered. "Psychological manipulation should never look that elegant."

Willow sighed, her voice a shaken murmur. "Why does it feel like we just witnessed an actual murder?"

"It's only murder if someone files paperwork." Chewie tapped on her holopad with a stylus, barely looking up. "Until then, it's a learning experience."

Just then, Wen's measured voice rose above ambient whispers. He directed a questioning gaze at the White Tiger and Lady Meng. "Inquisitor White, Stewardess Meng—why exactly did you two kill Prince Xuan? What compelled you to these extremes?"

His genuine, unwavering immersion drew a fresh wave of appreciative commentary from RealmNet:

[@WenFanOfficial]: Wen is so dedicated! Protect this precious archivist

[@CouncilStan]: Somebody give Wen a prize for dutiful acting—he's still stuck in character.

On the commentator's balcony, Yverie seized the chance. "An excellent question from Commander Wen! It's about time we unveiled the truth behind the scenario."

Brother Woo nodded, extending his hand in a gentle sweep. "Let the veil be lifted—observe closely, dear viewers. Let the Cloud-Jade Ledger unveil the events that transpired within the imperial halls of the Forbidden City."

The enormous holographic screen flickered to life once more, the air thickening as reality faded, replaced by the vivid grandeur of a bygone era. The once-familiar arena dissolved into the intricate corridors and moonlit halls of the Imperial Inner Court, every surface draped in royal elegance and whispered conspiracy.

The audience collectively drew breath, RealmNet streams slowing to stunned silence as the past unfurled with meticulous detail.

A soft ripple brought them into the imperial kitchen, tucked behind the grand residence. Here stood Stewardess Meng, her robes of muted colours blending into the shadows of the chamber. Quiet and composed, she prepared tea with the delicate precision reserved for royal service. A gentle smile lingered on her lips, devoid of any sinister intent.

Yet, the hologram's precision showed what the naked eye might miss—a delicate vial, lifted subtly from her sleeve, its contents tipping into Prince Xuan's tea. The liquid swirled seamlessly, dissolving into the steaming liquid without a trace. The audience held a collective breath.

An external monologue—delivered in Lady Meng's voice—floated into the stunned silence. It was a tone full of quiet regret. "My character had been siphoning artifacts secretly from the imperial treasury. When Prince Xuan discovered my indiscretion, he tried to punish me in the basement as a warning, but Inquisitor White had helped me escape."

She paused.

"But the secret was now out. The two of us were on the same boat, driven by the same objective, so we decided to collaborate and seal the words before others found out. A necessary series of actions, given the dire situation."

Brother Woo's narration slipped through the silence, weaving context into the betrayal. "As Head Stewardess, Lady Meng enjoyed unquestioned access to the inner sanctum of the Xuan Residences. Her methodical demeanor concealed motives perfectly, and the sedative provided her with the ideal tool to incapacitate without detection."

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"Indeed, Prince Xuan was wary of me considering my precedence, but not enough due to my status and my identity as a woman. With a few deliberate interchanges, he'd let his guard down once more."

The scene shifted smoothly to the imperial chambers. Candlelight danced across dark wood, illuminating Prince Xuan's pale face. Despite being known for his nascent cultivation prowess, the Second Prince stood beside a writing desk, regal yet disoriented, eyes clouded from the sedative.

From the shadows emerged a familiar white-haired figure—Taeril White, now clothed as the Exiled Inquisitor, moving with methodical grace.

"My role, as we all have come to know, was an inquisitor—personally exiled by the Second Prince himself," Taeril said, already having requested the staff a cup of coffee. "Revenge felt only natural, no?"

The commanders around the table shot the White Tiger a look. Peng groaned, sliding sideways to Ao Bing. "Was he always this petty?" he whispered.

The Sea Dragon Prince turned away. "Yes. Very much so."

On the projection, Prince Xuan's eyes flared with sudden, horrified recognition, clarity briefly piercing the haze. The drug's effects dulled his spiritual sense, but desperation lent him strength. He surged forward, qi igniting in a burst of desperate fury, roaring flames scorching across lacquered walls and ornamental screens. A fierce yet ultimately futile duel unfolded, the Second Prince's weakened cultivation insufficient against the precise, lethally calculated moves of the former Inquisitor.

"As a seasoned cultivator, Prince Xuan's instincts remained formidable," Woo continued evenly, "yet his dulled reflexes prevented effective defense. The scorches indicate a violent but ultimately futile resistance."

The holographic illusion rippled again, shifting into the Grand Hall of the Xuan Residences, the immense chamber rich with carved pillars and gilded dragons.

The Second Prince, wounded and stumbling, fled desperately toward the towering doors—his only escape toward assistance. His silhouette stumbled down the pillared corridor, fingers grasping air for salvation.

Yet, emerging perfectly poised at the entrance was Head Stewardess. In her hands rested one of the stolen artifacts, now modified into a weapon. On its engravings was the corrupted Oath Sigil that Lady Foxfire would later discover in the Imperial Garden. Lady Meng activated it silently; a brief flash bound Prince Xuan, stripping away his remaining qi defenses.

Lady Foxfire sat bolt upright, realization dawning on her face. "The corrupted sigil—of course! It required meticulous archival knowledge, as well as a container to be put to use." She swung around, fan snapping shut as she blinked at Lady Meng. "Lady Meng, you sly child, it was yours all along!"

Meng Po offered only a smile, a perfect picture of gentle innocence caught red-handed.

The illusion transitioned into its final scene: Prince Xuan stood immobilized, unable to defend as the White Tiger approached. His gaze turned slowly, dread dawning upon him like an endless nightmare.

Taeril drew his blade—executing a single, flawless strike. Prince Xuan collapsed, life slipping from his eyes, the Grand Hall resonating with echoes of his final breath.

"The fatal blow required unparalleled precision—a skill set belonging precisely to the disgraced inquisitor," Brother Woo concluded solemnly.

The holographic replay faded away slowly, the vast chamber once again bathed in silence.

The replay faded away slowly, and the vast arena once again fell silent. This time, the quiet lingered only briefly before erupting into chaos.

RealmNet went into an immediate frenzy, a storm of memes, shocked reactions, and delighted disbelief exploding onto every viewer's screen. #BaiHuGaslighter shot up the Trending chart, along with memes of Erlang Shen's raging face (captioned: Not a mole, just misunderstood) and of Lady Meng sipping tea.

"That," Yverie breathed, voice breaking through the chaos, "is how you orchestrate the perfect divine assassination."

Brother Woo inclined his head, eyes warm with amusement. "Indeed. Perhaps next time, the Council should also reconsider mandatory attendance. Commander White's return has certainly been making the Game memorable thus far."

Applause thundered across the arena as the commanders physically rose, stepping away from the round table. Li Wei stormed ahead, face dark as storm clouds. Close behind, the White Tiger ambled leisurely, his expression lightly amused.

"Captain Li—" he began, dragging out every syllable, "surely you're not genuinely angry? It was merely a game."

Li Wei's voice was sharp, frigid, pointedly not looking at him. "Don't talk to me. Don't even breathe near me, you smiling psychopath."

The poor man had visibly aged a decade in a single moment, and the pace was accelerating faster by the second.

The arena surrounding them gradually filled with laughter, the tension breaking at last. Yet, across the viewing balcony, Team 001 sat frozen, still staring at their commander's smiley features.

Eathan slowly peeled his eyes from the arena screens, voice faintly strained. "I feel like I just watched a masterclass in gaslighting."

Willow nodded. "And people wonder why our commander skips these games."

"Honestly?" Finn folded his arms, staring forward with comical bleakness. "Not sure I feel safe going back to Area 001 anymore."

Chewiw, thumbing through RealmNet comments, gave a half-hearted shrug. "He only mentally destroys people he considers a threat. You'll probably be fine, Finn."

"Not as comforting as you think, Chewie."

Eathan exhaled, nerves still vibrating faintly. His gaze wandered toward Taeril, still casually strolling behind Li Wei, who looked as though every breath he drew was a battle of willpower. Li Wei's face contorted in exasperation, his protests growing increasingly feeble against Taeril's insistent attempts at reconciliation.

"You can't possibly still be angry, Captain Li," Taeril coaxed, tone effortlessly sincere. "Think of the team-building experience!"

Li Wei visibly withered, pinching the bridge of his nose in defeat. "White, please. My heart rate can't take any more of your sincerity."

Above the streaming booth, the commentators' voices suddenly brightened once more, slicing neatly through the chatter.

"And with that thrilling conclusion, our second game draws to an end!" Yverie said. "But don't despair—there's still one final round!"

Brother Woo inclined his head, voice tranquil yet carrying ominous undertones. "Indeed. The third game—Commander's Nightmare—approaches swiftly. You've the entire day to rest tomorrow, and we shall resume the day after. Prepare yourselves—this will not be merely a game, but a test of resilience and truth."

[SYSTEM] NOTIFICATION:

[Main Quest (new!)]

Survive Game Three of the Realm-Barrier Games!

Reward: Distributed upon completion.

Eathan immediately sagged lower in his seat.

Commander's Nightmare?

He blinked.

After what he'd witnessed today, exactly whose nightmare was it going to be?

Eathan sighed again, louder, deeper, as though he could release some tension. His gaze drifted once more to Taeril, now casually sharing tea and idle chatter with Lady Meng. Eathan swallowed hard, dread settling into his stomach as though he'd just eaten expired COZMART instant noodles.

"Probably ours," he murmured in resignation.

Chewie finally looked up from her screen, still unbothered. "Definitely ours."