Just before the train doors closed, the players finally managed to board safely.
As they watched the doors shut and the train slowly depart from Station 1, everyone let out a collective sigh of relief. There was a mix of gratitude for having survived a perilous ordeal and disbelief that they had come through unscathed.
They had actually managed to escape unhurt from the little girl, Sasha, and her doll, Lisa. Not a single sacrifice had been made—a feat they could hardly believe.
In the past, players who encountered Sasha inevitably faced casualties. It always required someone to sacrifice themselves to distract Sasha, creating an opening for others to escape.
But this time, thanks to Gu Jiu, there were no sacrifices. Every single player boarded the train unharmed.
Unconsciously, everyone’s eyes turned to Gu Jiu.
Gu Jiu, unfazed, found a seat, pulled out a bottle of water and a bar of soap, and began to meticulously wash her hands. Earlier, when she had extended her arm to Sasha, some of the blood from her arm had gotten on her hands, leaving her feeling nauseated.
Her indifferent attitude didn’t offend anyone. On the contrary, it seemed perfectly in character. Old Hei walked over and sat across from her, leaving a respectful amount of space between them.
“Miss Gu…” he began.
“Just call me by my name,” Gu Jiu interrupted.
The game world was far from a civilized or law-abiding society. Formal titles and honorifics weren’t necessary among players. Only newcomers to the game tended to use polite forms of address, calling each other “Miss” or “Mister” out of habit. But as players experienced more game worlds, such formalities became irrelevant.
Of course, absolute respect was still reserved for the top-tier players with overwhelming strength.
Old Hei nodded and said readily, “Gu Jiu, I want to apologize for earlier.”
The group traveling with Old Hei was a team he had put together for this game world. It included his companions and partners from Boundless City, as well as players he thought had potential. As their leader, Old Hei felt a sense of responsibility for everyone in the group.
Earlier, when they encountered Sasha, it was understandable that his teammates had wanted to sacrifice Gu Jiu to protect themselves. After all, Gu Jiu was a stranger they had only just met. If someone had to be sacrificed, it made sense to choose the outsider over a teammate.
From a survival standpoint, it was a pragmatic choice.
But now that Gu Jiu had led them all onto the train without any losses, that choice felt like an unforgivable mistake.
Old Hei chose not to sweep the incident under the rug or pretend it never happened. Instead, he addressed it directly and sincerely apologized to Gu Jiu.
Gu Jiu remained silent. The natural gentleness in her features and expression carried a hint of cold detachment.
Old Hei turned to another player and said, “Li Jing, come here.”
A young man with sharp features and an arrogant demeanor approached. He spoke candidly, “Miss Gu, I’m sorry for what happened earlier. Here’s my way of making amends—I hope you’ll accept it.”
He handed her a silver cigarette pipe, adorned with an image of a bikini-clad woman in a retro style.
Gu Jiu glanced at him, her expression calm as she waved her hand dismissively. “No need.”
Although she was displeased at having been chosen as the sacrificial pawn, she could understand their reasoning. In the game world, those without strength were destined to be sacrificed or abandoned. Everyone was simply trying to survive.
That was why she had decisively taken out the arm earlier—she had no interest in testing anyone’s morality.
“Take it,” Old Hei urged with a smile. “This cigarette pipe is a charm item. No matter what kind of ghost or monster it is, one puff of the smoke will leave them utterly entranced. It’s incredibly useful.”
The item was indeed a valuable one. Their willingness to offer it as a gesture of apology showed their sincerity.
Even the greatest anger dissipated in the face of such a valuable item.
Gu Jiu accepted the Hypnotic Smoke Pipe, increasingly impressed by the high caliber of the players in this game world. Of course, it was possible that the quality was due to Old Hei’s excellent leadership.
Once Gu Jiu accepted Li Jing’s apology, the atmosphere in the train car quickly lightened.
Someone curiously asked, “Gu Jiu, how did you find Lisa’s hand? And why is Lisa’s hand a human hand?”
“Yeah, I always thought we were supposed to look for a doll’s hand.”
“Shows how deadly assumptions can be! All those players before us, and not a single one realized Lisa’s hand was human. No wonder no one ever found it.”
“Even if someone had realized, it wouldn’t have mattered. With Sasha and the Hunters at Station 1, who would dare linger there to search?”
Before Gu Jiu could respond, the group had already broken into a lively discussion, voices overlapping in excitement.
Old Hei leaned back with his steel blade resting across his lap, watching his teammates chat animatedly without interrupting. It was a rare chance for everyone to relax.
Gu Jiu finally said, “When I first entered this game world, I appeared at the entrance to the underground level of the first station. I didn’t know about Sasha or the Hunters at the time, so I wandered around the subway station a bit…”
She recounted her first thirty minutes in the game world.
The group listened intently, finally understanding her perspective.
To them, Gu Jiu’s experience seemed equal parts unlucky and fortunate. Unlucky, because she had been thrown into the most dangerous location right after entering the game world; fortunate, because despite encountering Sasha, she had managed to find Lisa’s hand within the subway station.
Old Hei slapped his thigh and cursed, “All this time, we thought Lisa’s hand was a doll’s hand. Some players even searched Station 1 specifically for it and found nothing. Who would’ve guessed it was like this?”
The danger level of Station 1 was too high. Players generally didn’t linger there for long. Even those determined to solve the Sasha and Lisa puzzle wouldn’t search as thoroughly as Gu Jiu had, and thus missed the discovery.
In short, Gu Jiu’s experience offered no practical reference for others—just admiration for how difficult it must have been.
Gu Jiu then asked them how long they had been in this game world.
“I’ve been here for a month,” Old Hei replied. “The others have been here for less time. Li Jing’s been here 23 days, Pang Hou twenty days…”
Among the thirteen players, the longest time spent in the game world was one month, and the shortest was half a month.
All of them were players trapped in the game world, unable to leave.
Gu Jiu silently reflected that if she couldn’t find a way to clear the game, she would likely become one of the trapped players as well.
After explaining, Old Hei turned to Gu Jiu with an invitation. “Gu Jiu, would you like to join us?”
Gu Jiu’s strength and quick thinking made her an ideal teammate.
Old Hei prided himself on his ability to judge people. His instincts told him that Gu Jiu was no ordinary player. Her decisive action in offering her arm to Sasha suggested a good character—someone who wouldn’t coldly stand by and watch other players die before taking action.
When choosing teammates, Old Hei didn’t demand complete trust or loyalty, only that they wouldn’t betray the group. Even in death, he believed, one should die honorably.
Gu Jiu didn’t immediately agree. She replied, “I’ll think about it. I’m still looking for my teammates. Two of them entered this game world with me.”
“No problem,” Old Hei said cheerfully. “You can bring your teammates along too. This train is dangerous. No player can survive alone. The more people we have, the safer we’ll be.”
Gu Jiu nodded. Her experience at Station 1 had already shown her the advantages of having more teammates.
After thinking for a moment, she asked, “How many players are alive in this game world right now?”
“Not too sure,” Old Hei shrugged. “There might be a few hundred, maybe even over a thousand. Players can’t stay in one spot for long—they have to move every day, looking for safe places to rest at each station. While you can meet others occasionally, it’s hard to keep track of numbers. Every day, people die, and every day, new players are sent in. It’s impossible to get an exact count.”
Gu Jiu lowered her gaze, feeling a tinge of melancholy.
Finding Lu Ji in the 25 stations and across two trains might take an indefinite amount of time. Worse, there was no guarantee they would meet at all.
She took out the Death Registry Book and opened to the first page, writing down Wan Xingzhou’s name.
The registry could determine whether someone was alive or dead. Names written in black ink would disappear within seconds if the person was alive. If the name turned blood-red instead, it meant the person had died.
Wan Xingzhou’s name didn’t turn red and soon vanished.
Gu Jiu chuckled softly. Although Wan Xingzhou was notoriously unlucky, he always managed to survive by a hair’s breadth, often encountering people willing to help him. His fate seemed unshakable—like a little pup with an extraordinarily tough life.
Next, she wrote Lu Ji’s name.
Similarly, Lu Ji’s name disappeared almost immediately. In fact, parts of the characters began vanishing before she could even finish writing them.
Gu Jiu didn’t fully understand what this meant but assumed it was a sign that Lu Ji was still alive. Given her capabilities, she was confident she’d survive.
Old Hei, seeing her scribble in the book, asked curiously, “What’s that?”
“It’s a Death Registry Book. It can check whether someone is alive or dead,” Gu Jiu explained, glancing at the group. “Do you want to try it?”
The players exchanged looks, and someone quickly raised their hand.
“M-me. I’d like to check.” The player hesitated but finally said, “A companion of mine came in with me, but I haven’t seen him since. I want to know if he’s okay.”
Others had similar expressions of longing.
Gu Jiu generously handed the book over.
The Death Registry was just a basic auxiliary item. Aside from confirming life or death, it had no significant abilities. She wasn’t worried about anyone trying to steal it. Considering they had been willing to part with a Hypnotic Smoke Pipe as compensation, it was unlikely they’d covet this modest item.
The first player eagerly wrote their companion’s name.
When the name turned blood-red, their eyes reddened instantly.
Their companion was dead.
Others around them patted their shoulder, unsure of how to offer comfort.
One by one, the players tested the book.
Second.
Third.
Fourth…
Old Hei was the last. He wrote down a name, and when it didn’t turn red, his face relaxed into a look of relief.
Once everyone had finished, they returned the book to Gu Jiu.
The atmosphere in the train car grew somber. Players who had discovered their companions were dead sat quietly, their red-rimmed eyes betraying their grief. Yet they didn’t break down. This world didn’t allow time or space for tears; their sorrow had to be borne silently.
Old Hei broke the silence. “Sis, what do your two teammates look like?”
Gu Jiu described the physical characteristics of Lu Ji and Wan Xingzhou.
“Lu Ji is tall, with a strong build and sharp eyes. She has short black hair, and her expressions are usually calm but intense.”
“Wan Xingzhou, on the other hand, is slender and looks a bit frail. He has soft, somewhat messy hair, and his features are delicate—almost boyish. He gives off the vibe of someone who needs protection but always manages to survive on his own.”
“Alright, if we come across them, we’ll definitely call them over.”
“Thank you.”
Gu Jiu smiled gracefully. Her quiet, serene smile radiated a refined beauty, like a vibrant yet understated flower in full bloom. The rugged group of men felt their hearts skip a beat.
It had clearly been too long since they’d encountered such a stunning female player. How else could they lose composure over something as simple as a smile?
Half an hour passed in a flash.
Old Hei glanced at his watch and reminded everyone, “We’re approaching the second stop.”
The tall and broad-shouldered Pang Hou asked, “Old Hei, where are we getting off?”
Old Hei hesitated before responding, “Let’s wait and see. With 25 stops on the return route, we’re bound to find a safe one to rest at.”
Gu Jiu checked the watch on her wrist.
When she entered the game world, the time on her watch read 1:00 PM. Now it was close to 2:00 PM. It would take over six hours for the train to travel from Station 1 to the twenty-fifth, arriving at the final station before 8:00 PM.
Although C-tier players could go several days without rest, mental fatigue could lead to mistakes. Resting when possible was critical for surviving in such a dangerous environment. Players carefully planned their daily rest to ensure they could keep up with the train’s threats.
The train soon arrived at the second stop.
Everyone stood near the doors, peering out through the open entrance into the station. It was eerily quiet. There were no signs of players, and the silence sent chills down their spines.
Old Hei tossed a small object out of the door.
The object hit the ground with a bang, the sound resembling a balloon bursting.
As soon as the sound echoed through the station, several gray shadows darted out from the corners. They scurried along the ground at an alarming speed, disappearing behind the buildings before anyone could get a clear look.
“Puppet rats,” Gu Jiu muttered, glancing at the group.
A player elaborated, “The second station is home to a monster that controls puppets. It turns humans and animals into puppets. Its combat ability is comparable to Sasha’s.”
Old Hei added, “But sometimes, the Puppet Master isn’t present. It all depends on a player’s luck—if you’re fortunate enough to arrive when the Puppet Master’s away, you can avoid it.”
Confirming that the Puppet Master was present at the second stop, none of them got off the train.
The doors closed, and the train continued on its way.