After boarding the train, Gu Jiu pressed a wet wipe to her face.
The cold moisture chased away some of her drowsiness, and she finally felt a bit more alert. She glanced out at the dark tunnel outside the window.
The others in the carriage were discussing how to uncover the names of the last two stations.
“Now, we only have the names of Station 13 and Station 2 left,” Chai Yingying said energetically. “As long as we work together and get those two names, we should be able to leave this cursed place.”
Old Hei mused, “I wonder how Qu Xiao’s doing on his end. Should we wait for him?”
“He’s probably at the first station now, riding the return train back here,” Wu Yang analyzed. “We can head to Station 13 first, then to Station 2, pacing ourselves to buy some time.”
“Agreed.”
Everyone in the carriage had heavy dark circles under their eyes, clearly indicating they hadn’t had a proper rest in a long time. However, their spirits were high; the more exhausted they were, the more adrenaline seemed to keep them going.
It had been a week since they decided to cooperate with Qu Xiao.
In that week, they had successfully collected the names of 23 stations, leaving only two. Hope was finally in sight.
The closer they got to the end, the less inclined the players were to waste any time. They wanted to power through and collect the remaining station names in one go. Seeing their determination, Gu Jiu, even if she thought it wouldn’t hurt to take a break, felt it wasn’t the right moment to suggest it.
The train arrived at Station 13.
The station was devoid of other players, cold and eerily silent. The ground was littered with dried bloodstains and garbage.
After entering the station, the group quickly swept through the second basement and first basement levels, bracing themselves for the inevitable dangers of this station. They prayed that ghosts would appear—they were easier to deal with. If they managed to subdue the ghosts, Wan Xingzhou could then “see” the station name.
By now, after riding the Death Train back and forth for so long, they had a general understanding of the connection between the stations and the ghosts.
If the ghosts in a station refused to cooperate, even those with special abilities like Wan Xingzhou and Qu Xiao couldn’t determine the station name, let alone the other players.
So, their only choice was to outwit and overpower the ghosts.
After all this time, many ghosts had yielded, allowing the players to gather 23 station names and gain valuable experience. They had realized that among the many bosses in the subway stations, ghosts were still the easiest to deal with. Though numerous, they were generally more manageable than the more powerful hunters.
“This is strange. There’s nothing here?” Wan Xingzhou murmured, puzzled. “Could they have noticed the players gathering in large numbers and deliberately hidden?”
Indeed, ghosts were hostile to players, but they weren’t fools. Seeing 200 players flooding a station, they might decide they were no match and temporarily hide.
“That’s possible,” Wu Yang said cautiously. “But if the ghosts don’t appear, other bosses might.”
“Like?”
“Hunters. Or shadow figures.”
“…”
Wan Xingzhou’s heart skipped a beat, and he quickly ran over to where Gu Jiu was—near the station’s restroom.
Gu Jiu was washing her hands, with Lu Ji holding a sword and standing watch beside her.
Seeing Wan Xingzhou rushing over in a panic, Gu Jiu asked, “What’s wrong? Did a ghost appear?”
“No,” Wan Xingzhou repeated Wu Yang’s words with confidence. “I was afraid I’d be unlucky, so I came over here to borrow some of your good fortune.”
Gu Jiu: “…”
Wan Xingzhou’s method of “borrowing luck” actually worked pretty well. As long as he stayed near Gu Jiu and Lu Ji, no matter what danger arose, he always managed to escape unscathed. It wasn’t because Gu Jiu and Lu Ji had particularly good luck, but because they had the ability to react instantly to sudden danger and ensure their group got out safely.
Unluckiness often stems from lack of strength.
In the face of absolute power, everything else is just a paper tiger. Those so-called unlucky incidents? They hardly mattered.
Wan Xingzhou clung to their support gleefully and cautiously. Whenever something happened, he’d rush over to them, calling it “borrowing luck.”
This time, his strategy worked once again.
When a shadow surged out of the dark tunnel, Wan Xingzhou followed Gu Jiu and the others as they ran toward the second basement level. Relieved, he muttered, “If I hadn’t come to find the young lady, I’d probably still be over there, and I’d have been swallowed by that shadow.”
The group gathered in the second basement level.
Before the train arrived, the shadow had already spread down to the lower level, chasing after the players.
“Does anyone have any defensive items left? Take them out now!”
“Everyone, gather here! As soon as the train arrives, board immediately!”
“Hurry up, hurry up!”
…
Almost 200 players were scattered across the large station, and while their number wasn’t overwhelming, gathering together made for a significant crowd.
Even the players with defensive items, reluctant as they were to use them, dared not hold back at a time like this. Being swallowed by the shadow was no joke. With other dangers, they could still put up some resistance, but against this all-encompassing shadow, there was no way to defend themselves.
By now, the players were no longer afraid of facing ghosts or other creatures in the subway stations. The shadow, however, was their greatest dread.
Because unlike ghosts, which they could fight, the shadow was unassailable.
Chai Yingying sighed in frustration, “I thought we’d be able to find the name of Station 13 today, but here comes this thing again, ruining everything.”
With the shadow present, they couldn’t search for the station name, which was the most infuriating part.
This wasn’t the first time it had happened. On multiple occasions, the shadow’s arrival had forced the players to flee from subway stations in frustration.
Gu Jiu threw out the mermaid doll, instructing it to eat as much of the shadow as it could.
She spoke to the doll with a touch of sarcasm, “I don’t expect you to accomplish much. Just treat this as me finding you some food so you won’t think I’m neglecting you.”
The mermaid doll spat at her in disdain but begrudgingly went to gnaw at the shadow.
This stuff really didn’t taste good.
Finally, the train arrived. The players boarded as quickly as they could, escaping the station that was being swallowed by darkness.
Disappointment and helplessness filled their faces as the train slowly pulled out of the station.
“It looks like we’ll have to take the return train back. Counting the time it takes to get off, it’s going to be several hours,” Li Jing grumbled to his partner. “That shadow really couldn’t have come at a worse time. Do you think it’s deliberately driving us away?”
“That’s hard to say,” Ji Changxin replied, his bloodshot eyes showing how long he’d gone without sleep. “Right now, we’re no longer afraid of the ghosts in the stations. When it comes to ghosts, we can rely on numbers to overpower them. But…”
In the game world, there are often many secrets hidden from plain sight.
These secrets aren’t something players can easily uncover. Occasionally, they might glean a clue or two from their system managers, but for low-level players, such insights remain rare.
Li Jing understood the implications.
Players who had made it this far weren’t simple-minded. Most had gathered a fair bit of information from their system managers. For instance, all game worlds weren’t merely virtual—they were real, tangible places.
The tasks players undertook weren’t just for their own gain; they were meant to help these worlds, disrupted by unforeseen accidents, return to their proper course and restore balance.
Gu Jiu sat next to Lu Ji and said, “Ah Ji, wake me up when we reach Station 2.”
Lu Ji acknowledged softly. He glanced down at her as she naturally leaned against his shoulder and closed her eyes. A thought crept into his mind—did she perhaps like him too?
Sometimes he felt that it wasn’t just Chai Yingying and the others who noticed his feelings for her; maybe she had figured it out as well.
But despite her apparent awareness, she had neither acted on it nor given any sign. This left him uncertain, wondering if it was all just wishful thinking on his part.
Every time this doubt surfaced, it tormented him.
He thought to himself that even if he had the power to read her mind, unless she explicitly expressed her feelings, he would still wrestle with this constant insecurity.
As the train approached Station 2, Lu Ji finally woke Gu Jiu.
Gu Jiu opened her eyes and took in the sight of the carriage bathed in pale, ghastly light. The other players’ eyes were bloodshot, brimming with red veins. Their gazes were unnervingly bright, filled with a manic energy that was almost terrifying.
If they didn’t clear the game soon, these players, already stretched to their mental limits, might truly be driven insane by this world.
The train doors slid open, and Gu Jiu wiped her face before stepping off the train with the others.
The subway station was eerily quiet, with the occasional black shadow darting across their vision.
Sharp-eyed players quickly sounded the alarm. “Puppet rats!”
Since boarding the Death Train, the players had encountered puppet rats countless times. Initially, they avoided the creatures at all costs. Now, their instinct was to prepare for a fight as soon as they spotted them.
Hearing the words “puppet rats,” Gu Jiu felt the mermaid doll in her pocket shrink and go motionless, expertly feigning death.
She chuckled and fished out the motionless doll.
“You don’t have to eat them, but you need to help kill the rats.”
The mermaid doll let out a breath of relief and, motivated by its survival instincts, waved its little claws, signaling its readiness to fight.
Without realizing it, the once-defiant and unruly mermaid doll had been trained by Gu Jiu into complete obedience. It was as docile as could be.
Soon, the swarm of puppet rats filled the entire second basement level of the subway station.
The overwhelming sight of rats squeaking and scurrying closer made everyone’s skin crawl.
“I hate rats the most!” Chai Yingying shouted as she viciously struck down a puppet rat. Turning to Gu Jiu, she called out, “Young Lady, what do we do? Should we head to the first basement level or retreat?”
Aside from the shadow, the players despised puppet rats the most.
No matter how many puppet rats they killed, they could never locate the Puppet Master controlling them.
Without finding the Puppet Master, there was no way to confront them directly, let alone persuade them to reveal the subway station’s name.
Gu Jiu didn’t respond immediately. Her gaze swept across the swarm of puppet rats, searching for something.
Lu Ji, Wan Xingzhou, and Wu Yang stayed close to Gu Jiu, forming a tight circle to protect and support each other.
Suddenly, Wan Xingzhou’s sharp eyes caught sight of the blank picture frame Gu Jiu was holding, and he froze in shock. “Young Lady, are you planning to—”
Gu Jiu nodded slightly. “We only have two subway station names left. We have to try.”
She glanced at the players around them, their bloodshot eyes and unnaturally manic energy signaling that they were nearing their mental breaking point. She knew they couldn’t afford to delay any longer.
Just as she was about to activate Death’s Painting, a hand pressed down on it.
“Ah Jiu, don’t!” Lu Ji whispered urgently. “Let me do it.”
Gu Jiu looked up at her, noticing the tension in her expression. It was clear she didn’t want her to bear the burden of killing the Puppet Master.
Since entering the game world, aside from exploiting the game’s rules to eliminate wicked bosses, Gu Jiu had never actively taken a life. Even when faced with inhuman ghosts, she had avoided killing whenever possible, respecting all living beings’ right to exist.
The Puppet Master did not deserve to die.
But if the Puppet Master wasn’t eliminated, they couldn’t obtain the subway station’s name and clear the game.
“What are you planning to do?” Gu Jiu asked. “Will it harm you?”
Lu Ji pressed his lips together, as if ready to respond, but before he could say anything, Gu Jiu had already activated Death’s Painting.
In an instant, the overwhelming tide of puppet rats attacking the players froze in place. They dropped lifelessly to the ground, turning into actual corpses.
Puppet rats were corpses controlled by an external force to begin with.
Wan Xingzhou suddenly looked up at the subway station ceiling, his pupils trembling. In a dry, hoarse voice, he said, “Young Lady, I see it—the name of Station 2 is…”
The moment Wan Xingzhou finished speaking, the subway station’s environment began to shift.
It felt as if time had reversed. The blood-soaked, filthy, despair-ridden virtual space dissolved, and they were transported into the real world.
They found themselves standing at the entrance to the subway station. The pale lighting, though the same as before, now seemed startlingly bright, making them blink in discomfort.
The station was clean. There were no bloodstains or grime on the floors and walls, and all the facilities were intact.
Passengers were calmly queuing to enter the station. Staff members diligently carried out security checks, and the faint hum of station announcements filled the air…
Everything felt so real and ordinary.
Chai Yingying’s voice broke the silence, tinged with disbelief. “Is this a real-world subway station? How did we end up here?”
“But we haven’t even figured out the name of Station 13 yet,” Old Hei added, equally bewildered.
The group stood frozen, staring at the spotless subway station. A sense of surrealism washed over them.
How did they clear the game so suddenly?
Gu Jiu pointed ahead. “Qu Xiao and his group must have found Station 13’s name before us.”
Everyone followed her gaze and saw Qu Xiao leading a group of players toward them from the other side of the station.
Not only was Qu Xiao there, but also the Pathfinder players they had encountered before. The expressions on the scouts’ faces were a mixture of astonishment and unease. It was clear they hadn’t expected to clear the game so abruptly. Upon seeing the other players, their wariness spiked, as if fearing retaliation. Their body language betrayed a natural inclination to stay on guard.
Qu Xiao strode over with confident steps.
He looked at Old Hei and the others and asked, “Did you just collect the name of Station 2?”
“Yes,” Old Hei replied.
For once, a rare smile appeared on Qu Xiao’s usually stern face. “I collected the name of Station 13 half an hour before you. I was planning to take the train to Station 2 to find you, but before I could, the environment suddenly changed, and I was sent here.”
Understanding dawned on Old Hei and the others.
It turned out that Qu Xiao had collected the name of Station 13 first, leaving only the name of Station 2. Coincidentally, Gu Jiu’s group had just arrived at Station 2, making it the final unknown station. When Wan Xingzhou read out the name of Station 2, all 25 station names were finally collected.
All the players were transported out of the virtual space and into the real world.
With this realization, the players’ bloodshot eyes became even brighter. In the dead of night, such a sight would have been terrifying.
Gu Jiu looked at the players, their joy barely masking their frayed nerves. She could tell their mental states were off—not just theirs, but her own too. If they didn’t clear the game soon, she didn’t know what she might become.
They were so close to leaving this place, yet instead of relief, she felt an overwhelming, unnameable emotion bubbling beneath the surface.
Closing her eyes for a moment, she said, “Let’s go catch the train.”
She pulled out a ticket for the return train.
The players all followed suit, taking out their tickets and scanning them to enter the station.
They descended the escalators to the second basement level to wait for the train.
The second level was crowded with passengers. The nearly one thousand players blended seamlessly into the crowd, going unnoticed. The passengers stood there waiting for the train, some on their phones, some listening to music, others chatting with friends…
Ordinary and real.
Standing among the crowd, Gu Jiu suddenly turned her head and spotted two little girls holding hands.
It was Sasha and Lisa.
The two looked identical—a pair of twin sisters. In this real-world space, Sasha and Lisa were just normal little girls; Lisa was no longer a doll.
The others saw the twins too and froze in fear, their scalps tingling as they stood rooted to the spot.
The train arrived, and the players hurried to board, as if eager to get away from the two girls.
Gu Jiu, however, didn’t get on.
“Ah Jiu?” Lu Ji turned to her, reminding her, “The train is here.”
Gu Jiu nodded and suddenly asked, “Ah Ji, do you like me?”
Lu Ji: “…”
—
Next chapter: confession time! 😊