The desolate grave had been completely obscured by wild grasses and shrubs. If Lian Qinglin hadn’t accidentally tripped and fallen on it, they would have assumed it was just a grassy mound. Li Zhi circled around the area, discovering that there were no signs of incense or paper offerings either in front of or behind the grave.
Clearly, this was an abandoned, ownerless grave.
A few of them cleared away the vines entwining the tombstone, and when they saw its shape, they were all startled.
This was not a typical tombstone. It resembled a sword, but with the blade pointing downward. The stone narrowed from top to bottom, and strangely, several names were carved into it. These names were surrounded by red talismans engraved into the stone, radiating a sinister aura.
Li Zhi frowned. “There’s something wrong with this grave.”
People typically respect the dead as they would the living, and there are many formalities surrounding burial rites. This had been evident since they entered the game.
The inscriptions on tombstones follow strict traditions as well. Normally, the deceased’s name and the years of birth and death are engraved and highlighted in red paint. For a “living” grave, they would use blue lettering. But the names on this tombstone were etched in black paint, and the red talismans wrapped around them were grotesque and ominous, like twisted ropes binding the souls to the stone. The longer they stared at it, the more it seemed to sting their eyes.
Furthermore, joint graves are usually reserved for couples. But here, over a dozen people—who, judging by their surnames, had no apparent connection—were buried together. From a ritualistic standpoint, this made no sense, unless this was a… sacrificial grave.
After hearing Li Zhi’s theory, everyone fell silent.
A sacrificial grave in such a place—one that exuded such eerie vibes just from the tombstone alone—was clearly a bad omen.
Xu Shu looked at Li Zhi and asked, “Should we dig it up?”
“No!” Gao Shijun was the first to object. After all they’d gone through recently, his nerves were shot. He instinctively resisted anything that might invite further danger.
“You said our mission was to find and properly bury our biological parents, right? This grave is clearly sealing something inside. What if we dig up…” Gao Shijun trailed off, clenching his fists. “In any case, we shouldn’t do it!”
The others understood his point. If they dug up the grave and found useful clues, that would be great. But what if they unearthed something far more dangerous? And it might not just be one thing—it could be a dozen.
Dealing with the village chief boss had already left them at their wits’ end. If they encountered more, even if they were just ordinary minions, they likely wouldn’t survive the day.
Li Zhi glanced at the darkening sky. “But we don’t have any other choice.”
The village chief had already been buried. If they hadn’t completed the real task, what would emerge when night fell? The unknown was more terrifying than anything they could anticipate, and far harder to handle.
Xu Shu knew Li Zhi wouldn’t take action without reason. He asked, “How confident are you?”
“I need to verify something,” Li Zhi said, picking up a shovel from the ground. She looked at each of their faces before pausing. “If you’re scared, you can leave.”
The audience’s tension mounted as well:
[Digging up a grave is too risky. They don’t have a single clue right now. Can they really clear the level?]
[What if the ones buried in that grave are their biological parents?]
[If it really is their parents, then they have to dig them up. There’s no way this sacrificial grave fulfills the requirements for a proper burial.]
[What on earth happened in this village? How can there still be sacrificial graves in this day and age?]
[It feels like the entire village is full of evil people.]
[I have an inexplicable faith in Li Zhi. As long as she’s there, I feel like everything will be resolved. If I were in the game, I’d just do whatever she says!]
[It’s because Li Zhi’s performance since entering the game has been so reassuring.]
…
In the end, no one left. Though they were frightened, they trusted Li Zhi more. Besides, where could they even go? The entire village was cloaked in mystery, and nowhere seemed safe. They might as well stick with Li Zhi.
Lian Qinglin didn’t waste any time and picked up a shovel. “If we’re going to dig, let’s do it quickly, before night falls!”
If they waited until after dark, the situation would become even more terrifying.
His words spurred the group into action. They had just dug a fresh grave the day before under the guidance of the Yin-Yang master, so they were somewhat familiar with grave pits and mounds. As they began digging up this sacrificial grave, the deeper they went, the more unsettling it felt.
The pit was smaller than a typical grave, which raised a troubling question: Could such a small grave really hold over a dozen bodies?
The mound of grass gradually flattened, and their shovels dug deeper into the earth. Their hearts raced with every scoop, feeling as though each movement brought them closer to death.
Finally, someone’s shovel struck something hard with a metallic clang, freezing everyone in their tracks.
Chi Yi, sweating profusely, exclaimed, “I… I hit the coffin!”
Beneath the damp yellow soil, the corner of a coffin emerged, wrapped tightly with red string. Li Zhi brushed away the dirt with her hand and discovered that the red string coiled upwards in layers, resembling a seal—exactly like the talisman on the tombstone.
The sun had already set, leaving only a faint orange glow on the horizon.
Gao Shijun’s face was ashen. “There’s definitely something sealed inside that coffin. We shouldn’t open it!”
No one paid him any attention. Using the last vestiges of daylight, the group cleared the dirt from the pit, fully revealing the coffin.
The black coffin was wrapped in layer upon layer of red string, forming a talisman on the lid. At each of the four corners, a small brass bell hung, its surface corroded by moisture underground, dotted with green oxidation marks.
It was clear that someone had used this coffin to suppress something.
“If the villagers really did this,” Lian Qinglin, being tall, could still see outside the pit, glanced suspiciously toward the distant village and lowered his voice, “if they find out we’re digging up this grave and opening the coffin, they’ll definitely try to stop us.”
Li Zhi suddenly chuckled. “The villagers harbor so much malice toward us. Their enemies might just be our friends.” She waved her fingers. “Open the coffin.”
They had sealed the coffin shut in the morning, and now they were prying it open at night—this game was getting more thrilling by the day.
As the group moved to open the coffin, the brass bells at the corners let out dull, clanging sounds. The moment the lid was lifted, a gust of icy wind surged upward, as if it had come straight from the depths of the underworld. The wind howled like wails of the dead, carrying with it the stench of decayed wood.
At the very instant the coffin was opened, the more timid members of the group squeezed their eyes shut.
But the expected scene of some monster crawling out didn’t happen.
There was no corpse in the coffin.
Instead, there were rows of memorial tablets, lined up from head to foot. Each tablet was affixed with a yellow talisman, bearing symbols identical to those drawn with red string on the coffin lid. And beneath each of the tablets was a lock of hair.
“What… what is all this?!”
The live chat buzzed with excitement:
[Is this some kind of dark magic? Isn’t there a ritual that uses hair for curses?]
[What exactly is this village trying to suppress? Whose hair is this? And where are the bodies?]
[This isn’t even a grave! It’s a ritual site meant to trap souls and prevent them from reincarnating!]
…
Li Zhi picked up one of the tablets and peeled off the yellow talisman.
The name on the tablet matched those carved into the tombstone, but there was an additional birth and death date. Her eyes fell on the dates, and a flicker of surprise crossed her face. She frowned, picked up a few more tablets, and examined them.
“They all died in the same year.” Li Zhi put down the final tablet, her gaze slowly shifting toward the village’s bridge, now shrouded in the thickening evening fog. “And it was probably on the same day.”
Suddenly, tiny flickers of torchlight began to dot the darkness, spreading through the pitch-black Guaping Village. The torches were gathering—heading straight toward them.
“Damn it! We’ve been spotted!” Lian Qinglin quickly scrambled out of the grave pit to assess the situation. “The villagers are coming after us! What do we do?”
Li Zhi made a swift decision. “We need to find the car. Head for Guaping Village Bridge!”
No one understood why things had suddenly shifted to the bridge, especially since they had encountered a ghostly trap there earlier—it was clearly a dangerous place.
But now wasn’t the time to question her. Everyone clambered out of the grave and started running in the opposite direction, away from the approaching villagers. After running for a few miles, they could faintly hear angry shouts coming from the grave pit.
The villagers had all come out to chase them, leaving the village completely empty.
Uncle Jiu’s hearse, which had previously transported them, was parked just outside the courtyard wall, but they didn’t have the keys. All they could do was stare at the car in frustration.
“How about we just run for it?” Lian Qinglin suggested. “I can carry Brother Zhu on my back!”
Zhu Zhibo gave a weak smile. “Thanks, man.”
Li Zhi shook her head. “They’ll catch up to us in the car. Let’s search the courtyard for the keys. If we can’t find them, we’ll have to try something a bit risky.”
“What’s the plan?”
Li Zhi headed toward the courtyard. “We’ll hide and wait until Uncle Jiu starts the car, then rush out and hijack it.”
The funeral hall in the courtyard had already been dismantled, leaving only scattered paper money on the ground. The players, now quite familiar with the area, searched both inside and outside but found no car keys.
Who would have thought they’d end up playing a game of cat and mouse in a paranormal setting? The players huddled in the corners of the courtyard, trying to figure out the best hiding spots.
“Under the car, maybe?”
“I can climb the tree and jump down when the car starts!”
“There’s a haystack outside the wall—we could hide in there!”
As they were discussing their options, they suddenly heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching.
The players instantly covered their mouths, barely daring to breathe.
The footsteps were light, deliberate, moving slowly but steadily in their direction. In the dim light, they could see that it was the Yin-Yang master in a blue robe. He didn’t seem to notice them, his expression blank as he held a compass and walked calmly along the wall.
Clink—
A set of car keys fell from his pocket, landing right in front of the players.
Li Jianxi didn’t flinch or even glance in their direction as he slowly disappeared into the night.
The players: “…?”
The audience: “…?”
Seriously? That was way too obvious of a helping hand!