Chapter 794: Identity Verification

“Hey!!” The old man yelled in panic, shielding his eyes from the swirling dust. “Who the hell are you?! Why are you doing this?!”

Qixia kept shoveling dirt into the pit, one scoop after another. Call it fate—while trying to navigate the alley in search of the Earth Ox, he had stumbled upon the old man digging.

What this man had discovered could never be allowed to spread. No—to be precise, anyone else could know, but the “Celestial Dragon” must never find out.

“Just your bad luck,” Qixia said. “I don’t remember much, but this? This I do.”

Seeing the murderous intent in Qixia’s eyes, the old man desperately scrambled for survival within the cramped pit. He kicked dirt against the walls, trying to climb out, but just as his head emerged, a shovel slammed into his face. With a scream, he tumbled back down.

The blow was brutal, leaving him disoriented and dizzy. His face burned with pain, and in the pitch-black darkness, he couldn’t even tell if he was lying on his back or stomach.

But his cries gave Qixia a clear target. He kept shoveling dirt onto the old man until the pit fell silent.

Within minutes, all the excavated soil had been dumped back in, leaving the ground level once more.

Before the kerosene lamp flickered out, Qixia stepped onto the freshly packed earth, pressing it flat underfoot.

His mind was in turmoil.

“Sorry,” Qixia muttered, his expression conflicted. “Dying here isn’t much of a loss. Besides, none of us deserve to keep living… Oh, right. I forgot—I don’t even have ‘sorrow’ anymore.”

In the lamp’s dying light, he stared at the shovel in his hands, his voice hollow. “But you won’t be alone. Someone’s already lying here with you. And honestly? They got a worse deal—no grave at all.”

With that, he flipped the shovel, pressing the metal edge against his own throat—

The lamp snuffed out.

Darkness swallowed the alley whole.

Minutes later, Qixia emerged, a black bead hovering above his head. Without so much as a glance back, he walked away, his face blank.

—

Yan Zhichun and Jiang Ruoxue hurried forward, stopping Lin Qin and Wen Qiaoyun under the shadow of their own black beads.

Before either could speak, Jiang Ruoxue raised a hand, quickly explaining the beads’ deadly nature.

Luckily, the two were sharp. The moment they grasped the danger, Lin Qin—who had once died during the “Pegasus Moment”—paled at the thought of reliving that piercing agony.

“So that’s how it is,” Wen Qiaoyun nodded. “Then let’s burn these beads by asking simple questions.”

“Perfect,” Jiang Ruoxue agreed. “If I hadn’t experienced this before, we’d all be dead mid-conversation.”

“Sounds good,” Yan Zhichun said, glancing at Lin Qin.

“No objections here.”

With all four in agreement, Jiang Ruoxue gestured to Wen Qiaoyun. “You first.”

Wen Qiaoyun smiled. “Alright. How many days are in a week?”

Her bead floated toward Jiang Ruoxue.

“Seven,” Jiang Ruoxue answered.

*Pop.*

The bead shattered. Delighted, Wen Qiaoyun grinned—but the other three remained stone-faced.

“My turn,” Jiang Ruoxue said.

“Keep it simple,” Wen Qiaoyun reminded.

Jiang Ruoxue met her gaze. “Define ‘Trauma Theory.’”

The bead above her head shot to Wen Qiaoyun, hovering at her forehead.

Yan Zhichun and Lin Qin tensed, watching closely.

This was the test. If Wen Qiaoyun truly was the legendary leader from thirty years ago, she’d know.

Instead, Wen Qiaoyun frowned.

*What kind of* common knowledge *is this?!*

She glared at Jiang Ruoxue, suspicion flaring. *Is she trying to kill me?*

But with the bead inches from her skull, she couldn’t risk lying.

Gritting her teeth, she shut her eyes.

“I don’t know.”

*Pop.*

The bead burst.

Wen Qiaoyun blinked, then laughed. “So ‘I don’t know’ works too?”

“No,” Jiang Ruoxue said flatly. “It just means you *really* don’t know.”

“Well, obviously!” Wen Qiaoyun scoffed. “Who the hell would know something like that?”

The others exchanged glances, silent. Then Jiang Ruoxue looked at Lin Qin, who gave a subtle nod.

Just as Wen Qiaoyun relaxed, Lin Qin struck.

“Wen Qiaoyun, what did you do before coming here?”

Another bead floated from Lin Qin to Wen Qiaoyun’s forehead.

Now she realized—these three were working together, probing her for answers.

But she was trapped. With a gun to her head, she couldn’t lie.

Jiang Ruoxue had said the truth saved her. A lie might kill her.

“I… was a convenience store cashier,” she admitted.

*Pop.*

The second bead shattered.

“A cashier…” Lin Qin murmured, frowning.

It made sense. The first time she’d seen Wen Qiaoyun, the woman had been hiding in a store, lost in madness.

All “natives” mindlessly replayed their past lives.

So this *was* Wen Qiaoyun.

Or rather, the real Wen Qiaoyun had been just a cashier.

But then… how had she led the “participants” thirty years ago?