(Continuation of Ch. 2)
At the bridge’s entrance, they could still faintly make out the mountain road on the other side, but now, standing on the bridge, they couldn’t see anything at all.
The fog had thickened so much it had turned into droplets of water, dampening everyone’s hair.
Suddenly, from within the dense fog, a cracking noise echoed, like stiff, creaking bones slowly twisting.
Crack—
Creak—
It sounded as if something beneath the earth had woken up, struggling and twisting its way upward.
Chi Yi suddenly screamed, “Something’s grabbing my foot! Ahhh—!”
Xu Shu barked, “Retreat!”
In a frantic rush, the group fled back toward the starting point. The path forward had seemed endless, but retreating was surprisingly easy—they quickly reached the bridge’s entrance again.
Everyone stood at the bridgehead, visibly shaken and pale.
Xu Shu spoke gravely, “It looks like this is the first challenge. We need to find a way to get across.”
Chi Yi, crying, collapsed to the ground. On her slender, pale ankle, wrapped in a silk ribbon bow, was now a dark, bruised handprint.
The previously enthusiastic newcomers were now trembling with fear. Gao Shijun, the stand-up comedian with a timid personality, was close to breaking down. He yelled, “We can’t even get across the bridge! We’re going to be trapped here forever!”
Newcomer meltdowns were common in situations like these. Xu Shu didn’t even glance at him. Instead, Zhang Xiao stepped forward to comfort him. “Calm down, we’ll definitely figure something out.”
This moment of leadership earned Zhang Xiao a lot of praise from the viewers, and his votes surged rapidly in the live stream.
Li Zhi suddenly looked back. “A vehicle is approaching.”
The group fell silent, straining their ears for a few seconds before they, too, heard the faint honk of a car coming through the fog on the winding mountain road.
Lian Qinglin couldn’t help but marvel, “You have sharp ears.”
Two yellow headlights cut through the mist and slowly came into view. A vehicle the size of a small bus emerged from the fog and stopped at the bridgehead.
But the moment it stopped, the group, which had been hopeful a moment ago, turned pale and stepped back in unison.
It was a hearse.
The front of the vehicle was adorned with a black mourning symbol, beneath which hung a white paper flower.
A dark-skinned middle-aged man poked his head out of the driver’s window, warmly greeting them, “Are you here for the funeral?”
At that very moment, the eight of them—including the audience watching the livestream—heard the system’s voice:
—You have encountered a key NPC, triggering this episode’s plot: Your father has suddenly passed away from a severe illness. As his children, you’ve traveled from afar to attend his funeral. You must hold a grand ceremony to lay your father to rest.
—This episode’s mission: The Soul Returns to the Soul, the Earth Returns to the Earth. Please ensure a proper burial for your loved one and let his spirit rest in peace.
The middle-aged man, seeing their silence, laughed. “Don’t you recognize me? I’m Uncle Jiu from the village. What are you waiting for? Get on, I’ll take you back to the village.”
The hearse, with its mourning symbol, exuded an eerie chill.
Everyone hesitated, visibly reluctant. Xu Shu murmured, “It looks like this is the way to cross the bridge. We should get on.”
Faced with the choice between a ghost-looped bridge and a hearse for the dead, the group felt the system’s malicious intent radiating from both options.
Li Zhi peered into the car for a moment but couldn’t see anything. She turned to the driver and asked, “Uncle Jiu, there’s nothing in the back of the car, right?”
The middle-aged man’s friendly expression flickered with a hint of a sinister smile, though he said, “Nothing, it’s empty.”
Li Zhi, understanding his implication, turned to her companions. “There’s something in the car. Be careful.”
Uncle Jiu’s face stiffened. “If you don’t get on soon, I’m leaving. You can walk back yourselves.”
Zhang Xiao spat viciously on the ground. “Damn it, I don’t believe anything in that car can kill me! Get on!”
He led the way, followed closely by Lian Qinglin. Both of them let out startled gasps as soon as they boarded.
Li Zhi was third. When she stepped inside and looked around, she saw the long, narrow interior of the hearse. Metal-framed benches lined both sides, leaving a wide aisle in the middle—large enough to fit a coffin.
For now, the aisle was empty, but on the right-side seats sat a row of paper effigies.
Poorly made with cheap paint, the paper figures had eerie faces, their eyes drawn with only whites, no pupils. They wore brightly colored clothes, their blood-red lips curved into unsettling, thin smiles.
As more people boarded, one after another, they let out shocked cries.
In the end, all eight sat squeezed together on the left side, directly facing the row of paper effigies.
There were exactly eight effigies.
The driver started the vehicle, and the hearse slowly crossed the Guanping Village Bridge, heading down the mountain.
Inside the vehicle, an oppressive silence hung in the air. The only sound was the chattering of teeth from the passengers, trembling with fear. Except for Xu Shu and Li Zhi, everyone had their eyes tightly shut, too scared to meet the gazes of the paper figures across from them.
Xu Shu was no longer surprised by Li Zhi’s calm demeanor, but he couldn’t help asking, “Why aren’t you closing your eyes?”
Li Zhi responded, “If we all close our eyes, what if these paper figures suddenly move?”
Someone had to keep watch, after all.
This was a common rookie mistake—something Xu Shu himself had learned the hard way after several missteps. But for a newcomer to be so perceptive? His admiration for Li Zhi deepened.
Because of Li Zhi’s words, the others forced themselves to open their eyes.
Closing their eyes made their imaginations run wild, filling the silence with even more terrifying visions!
As the car sped along the winding mountain road, Gao Shijun, who had been trembling, suddenly let out a scream, “I saw its eyes move!”
Xu Shu was growing impatient. “These paper figures don’t even have pupils. How could their eyes move?”
Gao Shijun, teetering on the edge of a breakdown, cried out, “I swear I saw it!” His mental state was on the verge of collapse. Suddenly, he turned and started banging on the window. “I want to get off! Let me off this car!”
The window quickly cracked under his blows. Zhang Xiao, who was sitting next to him, grabbed him by the arm, holding him down. “Calm down! The car’s going too fast—if you jump, you’ll die!”
The car was thrown into chaos. Meanwhile, the corners of the paper figures’ thin lips seemed to have stretched into even longer, sinister smiles, their mouths curving up toward their ears.
Suddenly, Li Zhi got up and walked over to Chi Yi, who was sobbing into her hands. She grabbed the long train of Chi Yi’s gown. “Let me tear this off for you. It’s getting in the way.”
Chi Yi, her eyes red and swollen, stared blankly for a moment before nodding.
With a quick, sharp rip, Li Zhi tore the train of the evening gown clean off. She then handed one end of the fabric to Zhang Xiao, who was seated at the far end. “Hold this.”
Then, she moved to the outer seat where Xu Shu sat and handed him the other end. “Hold on.”
The long train stretched across the aisle like a curtain, blocking the view of the eerie paper figures staring back at them.
Li Zhi returned to her seat. “There, now we can’t see them. It doesn’t matter if their eyes move or not.”
The group: “!!!”
The audience: “!!!”
Can she do that?!
Surprisingly, the makeshift curtain did diffuse the fear a bit. Even Lian Qinglin had enough peace of mind to ask Li Zhi, “You’re pretty strong. Do you work out?”
Li Zhi gave a modest smile. “A bit.”
Lian Qinglin: “…”
Time passed, and the hearse gradually slowed down.
Up ahead, a large archway loomed, with the words ‘Guanping Village’ written in faded red paint, weathered to a blotchy, bloodstained appearance. The arch seemed to cast a desolate gaze over those who passed beneath it.
The hearse slowly rolled into the village, and a cold wind seeped through the cracks in the window that Gao Shijun had shattered.
Once inside the village, the road became muddy, and the houses along the way appeared dilapidated. If it weren’t for the few villagers standing under the eaves, anyone would’ve thought this was an abandoned village.
The group, peering nervously through the grimy windows, noticed that the villagers’ cold stares seemed to pierce through the glass, observing them intently.
Suddenly, the villagers stepped out from under the eaves. They moved toward the hearse, each holding a wicker tray in their hands. They positioned themselves on either side of the road, as if preparing to guide the hearse.
Gao Shijun leaned back in terror. “What are they doing?”
A gust of cold wind swept by, and the villagers leading the way in front of the hearse began tossing handfuls of paper money from their wicker trays.
Scattering paper money—it was to pave the way for the dead.
White paper fluttered through the air in chaotic swirls. Uncle Jiu turned his head, slowly grinning, revealing an eerie smile identical to the ones on the paper effigies. “Welcome home.”