I Raise My Wife in a Supernatural Story (Infinite) - Chapter 46

Each Divine Wood Branch can only be used five times in total, and after each use, there is an extremely long cooldown period. In this ever-changing script filled with unknown crises, this branch was Qi Yan’s most reliable life-saving ability, a trump card she would not easily use until the very end.

Compared to Qi Yan, Bai Qing was much safer. As a ruler of the demon race, even if her soul was damaged and her spiritual power weak, she was still far more powerful than Qi Yan. The arm injury from the ghostly aura was something that would eventually repair itself given time.

At some point, without even Bai Qing herself noticing, she had begun to consider Qi Yan in everything she did.

In truth, Qi Yan was the same. The moment she saw Bai Qing’s arm in that state, she had nearly lost all ability to think rationally. Her mind was filled only with the thought of using her Divine Wood Branch to heal her.

Until now, though her actions had been stopped by Bai Qing, she still gripped the branch tightly. Just seeing that mass of thick, black ghostly aura on the fox’s left arm made her chest feel tight and stifled, a lingering gloom that was incredibly uncomfortable.

The two were still in a deadlock when the scene before them shifted. Bai Qing was the first to yield in their staring contest; she averted her gaze to look aside, her eyes flickering with a moment of surprise.

Qi Yan had been staring into her eyes, so she naturally noticed the change and followed her gaze.

The mirrored room faded away, revealing the original appearance of this secret chamber. The stairs they had descended were intact not far away. The secret room as a whole was not large, and the decor was crude; it looked like a rushed job that hadn’t received much thought or effort.

Qi Yan and Bai Qing stood in the center of the room. Beside them were the other three. Jiang Miao and Xinyi were nearby, one crouching on the ground, the other sitting against the wall. Both were suffering from various degrees of ghostly erosion. The affected areas were large, looking far more terrifying than the cluster on Bai Qing’s arm.

Xinyi, in particular, had both legs completely enveloped by the ghostly aura; not a single patch of healthy skin was visible. No wonder she was sitting on the ground; looking at her, she likely couldn’t stand up at all.

Jiang Miao was in better shape than Xinyi, but the erosion covered her entire right arm up to her shoulder, showing signs of spreading toward her neck.

Wushuang was even worse off. It took Qi Yan a long while even to find him, until she spotted a large, thick mass of unknown black matter lying near Xinyi’s feet.

Qi Yan frowned. Although the heap on the ground was completely corroded by ghostly aura, she could still tell it was Wushuang. Seeing how close he was to Xinyi.

Sensing Qi Yan’s gaze, Xinyi looked up. Her eyes held the exhaustion of one who had just survived a great battle, looking utterly drained. After meeting Qi Yan’s gaze, she forced a smile and said nonchalantly, “Unluckily, he and I were pulled into the same environment. What kind of good outcome could the two of us have? It was bound to be one of us dying so the other could live. Honestly, at first, I didn’t think I’d make it out of the illusion alive. All I could think about was killing him!”

The result was close to her expectations, as Wushuang was now reduced to this state. But her own legs, this was barely different from a Pyrrhic victory.

Qi Yan looked at her with a complicated expression, her right hand tightening around the Divine Wood Branch. The branch’s skill could only be used on one person at a time. Right now, several people were injured. Aside from herself, even Bai Qing had a wounded left arm.

Sensing her emotions, Bai Qing reached out and pressed a hand on her shoulder.

Keep it. Don’t use it. She communicated internally, reminding Qi Yan not to be impulsive and, more importantly, not to expose such a powerful item in front of everyone.

Qi Yan pursed her lips. She knew that in the dangerous world of the script, one couldn’t easily show compassion to anyone. Especially with this Divine Wood Branch, as it could easily become a liability if other players targeted her for it. “An ordinary man is innocent, but treasuring a jade ring makes him a target.” Everyone would want the branch she held.

Her relationship with Jiang Miao and Xinyi had not reached the point where she could entrust them with her life. Even with Tang Shanshan and Huo Zheng, whom she had trusted in the last script, she had kept the truth of her trump card, Bai Qing, hidden from them.

Qi Yan was no longer a naive little princess; she would not fail in this regard.

Thinking of this, Qi Yan said nothing more and silently put the Divine Wood Branch back into her inventory.

Leaning against the wall, Xinyi’s face was etched with the fatigue of enduring agony. She closed her eyes and whispered, “I won’t be able to move for a while, so it’s up to you guys now. Heh, at least I’m in a temporary team with you; I didn’t lose out in this round. As long as we can leave this place, my injuries will heal. Otherwise, I’ll end up like that bastard Wushuang, becoming nourishment for the script.”

The rules of the script world were such that as long as you didn’t die inside, no matter how severe the injury, you would recover upon returning to the outside.

Qi Yan glanced at Xinyi. She had questions, but now was clearly not the time. Their most important task was to leave. Looking at Xinyi, if things dragged on too long, it would not be good; the sight of those two legs being completely swallowed made her feel that the pain alone would eventually become fatal.

Jiang Miao, whose arm was injured, struggled to stand up. Her forehead was beaded with sweat, clearly suffering from intense ghostly erosion.

“Sister Miao, are you okay?”

Jiang Miao shook her head and forced a smile. “I’m fine. Not dead yet.”

Qi Yan said nothing, but she knew looking at her that she was not “fine” at all. Even if she was not dying, the pain must be unbearable.

To ensure these two could get out alive, Qi Yan quickly began to observe the secret room. The layout felt strangely familiar, which didn’t entirely surprise her.

Jiang Miao, after looking closely, said in a trembling voice, “This looks like an art studio.”

The walls were painted a uniform white and were covered in paintings. The floor was the same; many papers were scattered about, while others were neatly organized on nearby shelves. An easel stood in the center of the room. Qi Yan walked over to it; an unfinished painting sat on the easel, and the art style looked rather childish.

Qi Yan observed all the paintings in the room. The strokes were very naive, showing the creator was young and lacked solid basic skills, but they felt exceptionally gifted. Art relies heavily on talent; no matter how hard someone works, without that spark, it will always lack something. Qi Yan was an artist herself; it had been her greatest hobby since childhood and was her area of expertise. She was sensitive to art and had studied it deeply; often, a single glance was enough for her to understand the creator’s state of mind.

On the walls and floor of this studio, the papers were filled with the stifled, unvented sadness of a teenage girl.

Qi Yan crouched by the easel, looking through the scattered papers one by one. Whether it was the lines, the brushwork, or the color palette, they all carried a heavy sense of oppression that made the viewer feel somber.

The naive style and lack of formal training meant the lines were not particularly refined; a professional like Qi Yan could tell at a glance that the artist had not received systematic training. However, the emotions displayed were incredibly rich, easily drawing the viewer in and creating a strong resonance of depression and sorrow.

Jiang Miao stood by the wall, looking up at the paintings hanging there. “Wasn’t she a piano student?”

Yes. Everything displayed on the upper floor of this house, the study, the music room, and the endless academic and music lessons, combined to form the life Qiu Ran had led for over a decade.

But her heart, soul, and true self were all concentrated in this tiny secret chamber.

A teenage girl had used all her intelligence and effort to create a room that belonged only to her.

At this moment, the core of this script story connected into a complete thread in Qi Yan’s mind. She organized the scattered papers and set them aside, then stood up to gaze at the unfinished work on the easel. She remained silent for a long time.

Enduring the sharp pain in her arm, Jiang Miao circled the studio before joining Qi Yan at the easel. Her brows furrowed the moment she saw it.

“This painting, why does it feel so,” Jiang Miao’s heart pounded as she looked. She turned to Qi Yan and saw calm and pity in her eyes.

Qi Yan finished her sentence. “Familiar, right?”

Everything depicted in this painting was incredibly familiar to the players.

Bai Qing, standing beside Qi Yan to protect her, also fell silent upon seeing the painting. Her gaze held a clear sense of loathing and resistance.

Qi Yan sensed her mood and reached out to hold her healthy right hand, offering silent comfort. The roiling ghostly aura on Bai Qing’s left hand was being suppressed by her own spiritual power, but the struggle between the two forces meant her physical body had to endure the pain. She was always one to endure, however, and would not show how much it hurt.

But Qi Yan was in sync with her and could feel that her left arm was in agonizing pain. She couldn’t help but ask with concern, “Does it hurt a lot?”

Bai Qing shook her head, indicating she was fine, and nodded toward the painting. “This little ghost is very formidable.”

To receive a compliment like “formidable” from a thousand-year-old fox ancestor showed that the ghost Qiu Ran was indeed powerful.

“Yes, she is formidable,” Qi Yan agreed, though her definition of “formidable” was different from Bai Qing’s. Bai Qing was likely referring to Qiu Ran’s strength as a ghost, whereas Qi Yan felt she had a massive talent for painting.

With Qiu Ran’s love for and talent in painting, she could draw like this without formal training. If her true hobby had been nurtured, her future in art would have been limitless.

The paper on the easel was large, and the composition was complex. It was divided into three layers—top, middle, and bottom—like three floors of a building. Each layer had detailed additions. The first floor depicted a beautiful carousel and a large roller coaster. The second floor was filled with small gaming halls; the most detailed one was the arcade Qi Yan and Jiang Miao recognized, the one where they had competed against the three ghosts at the Carnival. The third floor was even more direct: a haunted house, though its contents were not clearly drawn, save for a young boy in a school uniform standing at the entrance.

“That Carnival, it was actually drawn by this child?” Though the answer was obvious, Jiang Miao was still shocked.

Only at this moment did the three surviving players realize one thing: the script Carnival centered around this house! The “Freeman’s Carnival” indoor amusement park from earlier was merely something the script’s “Heart,” the boss Qiu Ran, had drawn herself.

The painting was not actually finished; many parts were blank. Only the attractions the players had experienced were meticulously depicted.

These were likely the attractions Qiu Ran most wanted to play in her heart, so she emphasized them in her conceived amusement park, drawing them vividly.

Qi Yan’s gaze moved to the paintbrushes sitting nearby. Her mind stirred, and almost instinctively, she picked up a brush and added a few strokes to the canvas.

Qi Yan had loved painting since she was old enough to hold a brush in kindergarten. Her talent and skill in art were extremely high; she was the type of student professors constantly used as a positive example.

She added many details to the naive drawing. It was clearly visible that two different people had worked on it, as her additions were so beautiful that whatever she drew looked real.

Jiang Miao was directly stunned. First, she hadn’t expected Qi Yan to be so bold as to draw on the BOSS’s canvas; second, she was amazed by Qi Yan’s masterful technique. It was too powerful; she drew with incredible accuracy and speed.

There was one other person, or rather, one other ghost, who was also stunned.

Qiu Ran appeared silently beside Qi Yan. Her face was still as pale as paper, but it held a trace more emotion than usual. Her eyes widened as she watched Qi Yan’s movements, seeing her add many things to the unfinished work.

Jiang Miao was the first to notice Qiu Ran. She was startled by the sudden appearance and instinctively took a defensive stance. But in the face of her hostility, Qiu Ran didn’t seem to notice; her eyes remained fixed on the painting as if she could see nothing else.

Bai Qing stood by Qi Yan, quietly watching her paint. She watched as Qi Yan added a wealth of content to the amusement park. Though they were just simple lines, they were exquisite; it was clear Qi Yan had put her heart into it.

The artist was the last to notice Qiu Ran’s arrival. She merely glanced at the little ghost beside her; she no longer seemed as afraid as before. Perhaps because they shared the same passion, Qi Yan didn’t look at Qiu Ran as just a ghost, but with a complex mix of pity and sympathy.

Seeing Qi Yan stop, Qiu Ran pointed at the painting and asked, “These people, who are they?”

Jiang Miao leaned in to look as well. Her expression became complicated the moment she saw where Qiu Ran was pointing.

Qi Yan smiled and said, “It’s us.”

It was the arcade on the second floor, the place where the two of them had competed against the three ghosts and lost miserably.

With just a few strokes, Qi Yan had reconstructed the scene from that time.

There was Qiu Ran and Yanyan competing with Qi Yan at the claw machine, and Jiang Miao herself by the slot machine, scratching her head after losing to Ling Yi.

Oh, if one looked closely, there was also a middle-aged man standing nearby, looking lovingly at where Qiu Ran was.

Jiang Miao pursed her lips, her heart filled with complex emotions. This had been a thrilling and terrifying scene, yet under Qi Yan’s brush, it became a scene of joyful play. The tense, eerie atmosphere between them and the three ghosts had vanished. For the three ghosts in particular, while the smiles on their faces were still mischievous, the sense of terror was gone.

Qiu Ran was stunned. She looked up at Qi Yan. “Us, was it like that back then?”

She didn’t think it was something worth being happy about for the players.

“Probably. I think the three of you were quite happy then.” Qi Yan was expressing her true thoughts. When she drew the figures, the expressions of the three ghosts and the administrator, Happy, were quite clear, but she had deliberately blurred herself and Jiang Miao.

At that time, the two players felt only fear and loathing for the ghosts and the manager. Qi Yan didn’t want to distort the truth in her painting, so she could only blur the players’ emotions while focusing on Qiu Ran and the others.

Qiu Ran stared at the painting in a daze, lost in thought.

Qi Yan added a few more strokes and then put the brush back. “My skill is limited, so this is all I can do.”

Qiu Ran didn’t quite understand her, unable to read this strange adult. “Are you not afraid of me anymore? You should be afraid of me.” She pointed to Xinyi, who was leaning against the wall and had fainted from pain, then pointed to the ever-vigilant Jiang Miao. “They are still afraid of me.”

“Well, technically I am afraid,” Qi Yan said with a smile. “But for me, I can’t move when I see a painting. I just had a sudden itch to draw and added a few strokes. Maybe it was a bit presumptuous, but I guess you might like it?”

Qiu Ran looked at the painting silently, then finally nodded. “I like it very much.”

Qi Yan narrowed her eyes. “That’s good.” She looked around and suddenly asked, “Where is Yanyan? Won’t you call her out?”

Qiu Ran looked up at her, her lifeless black eyes fixed on her. “Why call her out?”

“No reason. I just think you two should be together. After all, she is you, isn’t she?”

Although Qi Yan’s words were a question, her tone was incredibly certain, stating a fact so directly that it left no room for rebuttal.

As soon as she spoke, Qiu Ran remained expressionless, but Jiang Miao was shocked.

“What do you mean? Yanyan is her?”

Qi Yan nodded. “If my guess is right, Yanyan is Ranran’s second personality. They are the same person.”

Jiang Miao’s eyes widened in shock, not fully processing the information.

Qiu Ran, on the other hand, showed a very faint trace of surprise on her puppet-like face, as if asking Qi Yan: How did you know?

Qi Yan said, “I had this suspicion the moment I saw her playing the piano in the same loungewear as you.”

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