When Ruan Yuan and Lu Haidi came over again, Wan Xingzhou, freshly cleaned, followed them.
Wan Xingzhou appeared to be in his early twenties, with handsome features—a fresh-faced young man with rosy lips and white teeth. Unfortunately, he seemed to have terrible luck and an air of constant misfortune, which left his eyes perpetually filled with confusion and a pitiful sense of grievance, making him look especially pitiable.
If he hadn’t had that pitiful expression, Gu Jiu wouldn’t have tolerated his previous blood-soaked appearance.
Even Ruan Yuan and Lu Haidi couldn’t help but feel a bit of sympathy when they saw his desolate look.
Wan Xingzhou’s appearance was indeed an advantage; his innocent look could tug at the heartstrings of those with even a shred of kindness left. For him, this meant that people were willing to lend a hand in ways that might be trivial for them but extremely beneficial to him.
As Gu Jiu had mentioned, while he seemed to be unlucky, he did have a certain kind of luck.
Seeing him come over with hopeful eyes, Ruan Yuan casually asked, “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be resting in your room?”
Wan Xingzhou stammered, “I-I cleaned up and thought I’d come over for Miss Gu to see…”
Ruan Yuan gave him a perplexed look. “What’s there to see?”
Wan Xingzhou: “….” In truth, he wasn’t sure either; he had just felt the impulse to come over after cleaning himself up.
Wan Xingzhou’s response left everyone speechless.
What made it even more baffling was that he seemed entirely unaware of how awkward he looked—just standing there, confused and aggrieved like an abandoned puppy, looking more and more pitiful.
Ruan Yuan’s heart softened a bit. “Alright, alright, do as you please.”
After speaking, she realized her reaction was odd. He was just another player in the same game, so why did his situation concern her at all?
Lu Ji squinted as he studied Wan Xingzhou. He had initially pegged him as a rather foolish guy, but this level of sympathy-garnering was remarkable. What if Miss Gu’s heart softened, and she ended up taking him under her wing, like she had with him?
It was a very real possibility!
Ruan Yuan and the others brought in details for tomorrow’s tasks assigned to the players, surprisingly discovering they were interconnected. They were to play roles in the castle, either as servants, tutors, or craftsmen, all somehow related to Madam Herlan.
In the past few days, the players’ tasks had also involved Madam Herlan, but this was the first time their missions had formed such direct connections.
“Their task times are all around 1:00 p.m. tomorrow.”
Tomorrow at 1:00 p.m. was precisely when Madam Herlan was supposed to meet her lover.
Wan Xingzhou was stunned for a moment, then looked at Gu Jiu in surprise. “I-I think I understand why your task isn’t related to Madam Herlan. Since your mission is set for 4:00 a.m., under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t survive the summoning ritual.”
With one destined not to survive, those remaining would naturally cluster together.
Gu Jiu smiled and turned to Ruan Yuan. “How did the other players react?”
Ruan Yuan answered honestly, “I traded information about the fifth floor of the castle with them. They think this is from a task that Brother Lu and I completed on the fifth floor, and they seem open to collaborating with us.”
This approach of using fifth-floor information to trade with other players had been Gu Jiu’s suggestion. Among the information currently available to the players, details about the fifth floor of the castle were the most valuable. It also served as a means to connect with other players, ideally bringing them together into an alliance. If they could form a cooperative group, it would be all the better.
Gu Jiu looked satisfied. “Tell them that the task at 4:00 a.m. is open for observation if they’re interested.”
Ruan Yuan was unsure what Gu Jiu had planned. A task set for 4:00 a.m. in this game was akin to a nightmare-level challenge, with almost no chance of survival. Yet, Gu Jiu didn’t seem particularly worried.
Though curious, Ruan Yuan knew Gu Jiu wouldn’t reveal anything in advance, so she didn’t bother asking. They would find out soon enough.
“Alright, we’ll go inform them in a bit.”
After their discussion, Ruan Yuan pulled her boyfriend away, and Wan Xingzhou, sensing the cue, also left with them.
Since she had a task scheduled for 4:00 a.m., Gu Jiu decided to get some rest early that evening.
Noticing Lu Ji seated by the bed and busy with something, she walked over and asked, “Ah Ji, what are you working on?”
With her chin lightly resting on his shoulder, Lu Ji’s body froze for a moment. The faint fragrance of her scent wafted up to his nose, making him slightly dizzy, as if his thoughts had come to a complete halt.
“I’m folding some paper cranes for you.”
Earlier that morning, on the castle’s fifth floor, he had seen black shadows tear apart some paper cranes, and he had promised Gu Jiu he would make some new ones for her. It had been a busy day, so it wasn’t until now that he had a chance to fold them.
Gu Jiu chuckled softly. “Thank you, Ah Ji.”
The gentle sound of her laughter filled his ears, leaving him momentarily dazed. By the time Lu Ji snapped back to reality, he realized he had not only folded several paper cranes but also some small paper people and frogs.
He handed her the folded creations all at once before grabbing a blanket and lying down.
Gu Jiu raised an eyebrow. “Ah Ji, isn’t this a bit much?”
“It’s not too much. They’re just disposable charms. If there’s any danger, use them as shields…”
His muffled voice came from under the blanket, explaining that these paper objects weren’t like the specialized ones he had made before. These simple creations had a single function: to absorb damage on behalf of the user, though they didn’t possess any power to exorcise or devour spirits.
After hearing this, Gu Jiu chuckled again, packing the paper charms into her satchel. She tugged at the blanket covering Lu Ji and smiled. “Ah Ji, don’t sleep with your head covered—it’s bad for your health.”
Blushing furiously, Lu Ji pulled the blanket off his head but kept his back to her.
Seeing Lu Ji obediently lower the blanket, Gu Jiu didn’t say anything further and lay down to rest as well.
In less than ten minutes, her breathing grew steady, indicating she had drifted into a deep sleep.
Lu Ji listened to her steady breathing, then slowly turned to look at the peacefully sleeping human beside him. The distance between them was minimal—just a small stretch of his arm, and he’d be able to touch her.
Before entering the game world, neither of them had been used to having someone on the other side of the bed. Yet, after three or four games where they’d had to sleep beside each other, they had gradually grown accustomed to each other’s presence. The space between them had shrunk more and more, to the point where they could lie side by side and fall asleep without worry.
Lu Ji especially cherished the feeling of lying shoulder to shoulder, feeling the closeness between them.
He inched forward, his face nearing Gu Jiu’s until she was almost close enough to touch. But, at the last moment, he stopped, unwilling to go any closer.
After a long pause, he pulled back, his cheeks flushed. He feared that if he moved even a bit closer, he might not resist the urge to kiss that delicate, gentle face, to touch that fair, flawless skin, and maybe even wrap his arms tightly around her, holding her close…
But they weren’t a couple, so he couldn’t do any of that.
…
With a quiet sense of regret and longing, Lu Ji closed his eyes.
×××
At 3:00 a.m., Gu Jiu was awakened by her alarm.
After two consecutive days of early morning wake-ups, her mood was foul. When she stepped out of her room, her expression was dark. She strode purposefully down the hall, her thin windbreaker flaring slightly in the night air.
In the grand first-floor hall, not only were Ruan Yuan, Lu Haidi, and Wan Xingzhou waiting, but so were several other players.
Scanning the room, she saw that every remaining player had gathered here, clearly curious about her task, wondering if she would actually summon the “devil.”
Gu Jiu cast a casual glance at the other players before turning her gaze to the hall itself.
The castle’s hall was vast, with a magnificent crystal chandelier hanging from the dome ceiling, casting bright light that illuminated the space in sharp contrast to the darkness outside.
At the center of the hall, a large hexagram was drawn on the floor in deep red, with strange, tadpole-like symbols curling within it, like creeping, bloody serpents. The sight was intensely disturbing.
The distinct smell of blood hung in the air, suggesting that this symbol had been drawn recently, perhaps using real blood.
This must be the summoning array, meant to invoke the devil or bring about some kind of resurrection.
Gu Jiu sneered. She hadn’t even started her task, yet someone had gone out of their way to set up the summoning array for her, as if they were eager for her to call forth the “devil.”
She turned to Ruan Yuan and the others. “Was this here when you arrived?”
The three nodded, and Ruan Yuan gestured toward the other players. “We weren’t the first to arrive; these people were here earlier.”
As Gu Jiu’s gaze fell on them, the other players began pointing out the first one to enter the hall.
The earliest player said, “It was here when I got here. I have no idea who drew it.”
It seemed the symbol could have appeared on its own, been drawn by the castle’s sole NPC butler, or even been created by the ghost hiding within one of the portraits. Ultimately, anything was possible.
The players present watched Gu Jiu closely, wondering what she would do next.
According to the mission instructions, the filming task was something the players had to perform. Even if someone wanted to use a substitute card, it would have to be used mid-task; exiting early was not an option. So even if Gu Jiu decided to use a substitute card, it would only be after she had summoned the “devil.”
However, once the “devil” was summoned, would a substitute card even work? If the devil’s power surpassed that of the game world’s main boss, even items might fail to protect against it.
Ruan Yuan and her companions looked on in concern.
Gu Jiu, however, appeared unruffled—albeit visibly displeased. Her annoyance was so evident that everyone present could sense it.
For some reason, Ruan Yuan and the others felt that this irritated Gu Jiu exuded a commanding aura that made it difficult to meet her gaze directly. Coupled with her composed demeanor, they couldn’t shake the feeling that her background in the real world must be quite extraordinary.
Cautiously, Ruan Yuan asked, “Miss, are you… not happy right now?”
Gu Jiu replied, “It’s 3:00 a.m. Who would be happy?”
Everyone: “…” That reason for being upset was… strangely irrefutable.
The players gathered along the edges of the hall, waiting for the time to arrive.
They didn’t dare come too close, lest they be mistaken as part of the summoning. Some, not feeling safe enough on the ground floor, even positioned themselves on the second floor to observe from above.
At 4:00 a.m., the castle’s tightly shut main doors silently swung open.
The doors were thick and heavy, yet they now moved as if a hand had silently brushed them aside. An icy wind blew in from outside, making everyone shiver and filling the air with a pressing, unspeakable dread that chilled them to the core.
Their gazes shifted to the center of the hall, where Gu Jiu was already stepping into the blood-drawn summoning circle.
She stood in the center of the array, her head lowered.
With a sudden pop, the lights of the crystal chandelier above went out, leaving only the flickering candlelight around the hall’s edges. The gusts from the open doors caused the flames to dance, casting long, twisting shadows that gave the scene an intensely eerie atmosphere.
Out of nowhere, thunder rumbled outside, followed by the sound of the earth shaking violently.
Terrified, the players turned to peer into the dark void outside the castle doors. The ominous phenomena continued, weighing heavily on their hearts, making it difficult to breathe. Each of them felt an unsettling premonition—something was about to emerge.
Their eyes returned to Gu Jiu, standing within the summoning array.
The array sprawled across nearly half of the hall, and as she stood there, the night wind lifted her clothing. She seemed so delicate and fragile, as if she might shatter with the slightest touch, merging seamlessly with the bloody symbol on the ground.
The relentless rumble of thunder and tremors outside grew, shaking the entire castle.
Everyone could feel it—an overwhelmingly powerful force was descending upon the castle at that very moment.
It was as if a god had descended.
The players’ hearts tightened with each passing moment, the urge to flee almost overwhelming.
As players experienced in C-level game scenarios, some had survived more than ten C-level game worlds, but none had ever faced a force this terrifying and powerful. This presence truly deserved its reputation as an entity beyond the game world’s boss.
They were simultaneously terrified and secretly grateful. Thankfully, they hadn’t drawn the task to summon the devil—otherwise, they wouldn’t know how to escape from this mission.
As these thoughts ran through their minds, they suddenly saw Gu Jiu, who had been standing quietly at the center of the summoning array, quickly retreating.
Just as she stepped back, a giant hand materialized out of nowhere, seizing the doll that had taken Gu Jiu’s place in the center of the array.
Upon grasping the doll, the hand seemed to realize something was amiss, and an enraged roar echoed from the void. Yet, even as the entity realized it had seized the wrong offering, the hand began to fade, becoming transparent and powerless.
Once the hand fully disappeared, the castle fell into silence once more. The blood-drawn summoning array on the ground vanished, and the lights, which had been extinguished, flickered back to life.
Everything returned to normal, serene and undisturbed.
Everyone: “!!!” What had just happened?