Chapter 27: Destiny Favors Me
His name was Zhou Mo.
Station Master of Waystation No. 18, subordinate to the Qiuhe Wang Clan.
He’d always been drawn to the martial path—a boy whose hands itched for the weight of a blade.
From childhood, he’d dreamed of becoming a hero.
But life had offered him neither opportunity nor talent. He’d clawed his way up to become a Level 2 Practitioner, only to hit a wall, drifting through the following years as the Wang Clan’s Station Master. He thought he’d spend the rest of his days mired in that haze—until the Rainy Season arrived, and he followed Chen Fan. He watched as Xiao Qiu braved the deadly city walls, risking his life for the sake of the Camp.
That old yearning—to be a hero, to carve his name into the world—stirred within him once more.
The rain was ice-cold.
But his blood had never burned so fiercely.
If Xiao Qiu could do it, then why not Zhou Mo?
He would have no regrets in this life.
Zhou Mo would not die nameless. He believed—no, he knew—the people atop that Wall would remember his name.
And yet…
“Hmm…”
Zhou Mo stood in the downpour, arms flung wide, head tilted back as freezing rain pummeled his face. He couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose. They said your life flashed before your eyes before you died—that time would slow, the world would crawl.
But he hadn’t expected it to slow this much.
He’d been standing here for ages, and still, death had not come.
Now, he was starting to regret handing his blade to Xiao Qiu. If he’d kept it, at least he could have managed a cleaner end. Getting struck by a Flesh Maggot Ghost and dissolved by its Corrosion… that would be agony.
No matter how much it hurt, though, he swore he wouldn’t scream when the end came. He’d die with dignity.
He made that promise to himself, quietly, in the rain.
After a while.
Still not dead?
Zhou Mo cracked his eyes open, confused. Was the afterlife supposed to drag on this long? As he glanced around, he realized that every Flesh Maggot Ghost had vanished—gone without a trace.
As if everything he’d just experienced had been some fevered hallucination.
No sign of them in the Camp, not even lurking within the Gray Mist.
Only the sticky green slime at his feet proved it hadn’t all been a dream.
He stood there, dazed, ankle-deep in viscous sludge, staring up at the Wall. He had no idea what had just happened.
“Come on up.”
Chen Fan, who’d been struggling to stifle his laughter atop the Wall, finally let it out. “Quit posing, Zhou Mo—your arms must be killing you by now.”
...
“Destiny favors me.”
Chen Fan leaned on the parapet, gazing out over the Wall into the distance. All around the Camp, the Gray Mist was eerily clear—not a single Ghostbeast in sight.
The swarm of Flesh Maggot Ghosts had retreated.
Or rather… they’d been forced to retreat.
Flesh Maggot Ghosts had no limbs, just rolling balls of flesh covered in distorted human faces. They couldn’t crawl or slither. The only way they moved was by “riding the wind.” Wherever the wind blew, they followed.
That was why they looked so tormented near the Ghostfire, yet almost gleeful when swept away.
Because they had no control over their own direction.
They could only surrender to the wind.
Like dandelion tufts—wherever they landed, it was pure chance.
And at the exact moment Zhou Mo tossed the Ghoststones inside and spread his arms to embrace death, the wind shifted. A fierce gust swept west, and since they were already at the edge of the Ghost Tide, the mass of Flesh Maggot Ghosts vanished in an instant, blown away into the depths of the Eternal Night.
That was why Chen Fan said it was destiny.
If the wind had turned east instead, it wouldn’t have mattered if Zhou Mo had thrown in a bag of Ghoststones—or ten. The Camp would have been wiped out, no question.
In truth…
If the wind after nightfall hadn’t started out blowing south, he never would have seen that swarm of Flesh Maggot Ghosts at all. But that was out of his hands.
Now, at last, he understood why the Female Ghostbeast had withdrawn so quickly. With a Ghost Tide of this scale, even high-grade Ghostbeasts had to retreat or be crushed.
Stand in its path, and you’d die.
Flesh Maggot Ghosts didn’t know fear or retreat—they couldn’t control their own movement at all. Even if they wanted to pull back, they were helpless.
From what Chen Fan could tell—
Flesh Maggot Ghosts were a type of Ghostbeast that only appeared with the onset of the Rainy Season. As the rains came, accompanied by wild winds, they drifted everywhere, forming the Ghost Tide.
They didn’t seem to have any real goal.
Just pure chaos.
Whatever they touched, they killed. Whatever they found, they ruined.
“Zhou Mo.”
Chen Fan took the heavy blade from Xiao Qiu and handed it to Zhou Mo, now back atop the Wall. His expression was solemn. “Maybe a Level 2 Practitioner isn’t much now, but when you reach Level 3, 4, or 5, you’ll be someone who makes a difference. As long as you stay in the Camp, I’ll supply you with Ghoststones to help you advance.”
“You handle Camp security.”
“I’ll guarantee your cultivation.”
“You guarantee our safety.”
“Yes, sir!”
Zhou Mo took the blade, a little embarrassed, his eyes darting away. “Don’t worry, Station Master. As long as I’m here, nothing’s getting through to the Camp.”
“Your hand okay?”
Chen Fan glanced at Zhou Mo’s hand, now pale and peeling from Corrosion.
“It’s fine,” Zhou Mo said quickly, waving it off. “The heavy rain washed away most of the Flesh Maggot Ghost goo. Barely got corroded, just lost a layer of skin. Hurts a bit, but I’ll be fine in a few days.”
“You were pretty badass just now.”
Wang Kui sidled over, throwing an arm around Zhou Mo’s shoulders and waggling his eyebrows. “Nice pose, too.”
“Screw you!”
Already embarrassed, Zhou Mo turned red as Wang Kui teased him, shoving his arm away. “Say that again and I’ll beat your ass. A Level 2 Practitioner like me can still take you down!”
“Now that’s a real man.”
Crippled Monkey chimed in, admiration clear on his face. “Better than I am.”
“It wasn’t that big a deal…”
Zhou Mo’s eyes flickered away, sheepish. If he’d actually died, he’d have gone out in style—but living through it just left him feeling awkward. He was getting too old for this…
...
Chen Fan stood atop the Wall, smiling quietly as the others joked and laughed behind him. The tension had eased, nerves uncoiling. Letting everyone blow off steam was good for morale—too much stress, and something would snap.
He believed—
After tonight, the Camp would be stronger than ever.
Not just in strength.
But in spirit.
A Camp wasn’t something a lone Builder could create. He needed his own core team. And right now, that team was beginning to take shape. In that sense, he was fortunate.
And besides—
Crisis and opportunity always came hand in hand.
Survive the crisis, and what’s left is opportunity.
All those Ghoststones scattered outside the Wall were the best reward he could ask for. A few Unique Treasures even glimmered with white light among the loot, as if to remind him—the time for harvest had come.
“Crippled Monkey.”
Chen Fan turned to his loyal servant. “The Female Ghostbeast only backed off because of the Flesh Maggot Ghosts. With her grudge, she’s bound to come back. Take those two brothers and pick up every Ghoststone out there. Wrap your hands with cloth from the storeroom—don’t get yourselves hurt.”
“Yes, sir!”
Crippled Monkey nodded solemnly, then limped off with Zhou Mo and Qi Chong’s men to gather Ghoststones and Unique Treasures outside the walls.
In a group—
You had to look after everyone’s feelings. Tonight, Xiao Qiu and Zhou Mo had both had their moments. Crippled Monkey, thanks to his bad leg, never got a chance to shine. If Chen Fan didn’t give him a job soon, the guy would get depressed.
And those other two?
Same deal.
Everyone needed something to do, a reason to talk, a way to belong—otherwise, they’d end up on the outside looking in.