Zhang Xiao was dead.
Li Zhi crouched beside the corpse, pressing her fingers against the artery in his neck. But it was clear he had been dead for some time. His body had already stiffened, and when her fingers touched it, all she could feel was an icy chill.
The rest of the group stood frozen in terror, their faces paler than the corpse itself. Suddenly, Lian Qinglin pointed into the room and shouted, “Look at the bed!”
Everyone looked up.
On the redwood bed in the center of the room, the village chief lay naked. He was in the exact same position as Zhang Xiao—hands crossed over his abdomen, with even the slight upward curve of his lips mirroring Zhang Xiao’s expression.
Li Zhi remembered that yesterday, the village chief had looked peaceful. But now, he wore a satisfied yet eerie smile, as if he was pleased to have someone accompanying him on his journey.
This was the first death since they had entered the instance. No moment before this had made them realize so starkly the dangers of this place, this instance, this… terrifying reality show.
The female host, Pei Xu, crumpled to the ground, hugging her head and crying uncontrollably.
Gao Shijun, who had shared a room with Zhang Xiao the previous night, collapsed in a daze, mumbling incoherently, “We’re going to die… we’re all going to die…”
“How could this happen? How did the funeral clothes on the village chief end up on Zhang Xiao? What exactly happened? How did he just die like that?” Even the movie star, Zhu Zhibo, was beginning to break down. At this rate, the whole team would fall apart before they could complete the task.
The comments streaming on the screen were a mix of silence and excitement. From the moment the [Ghosts] arrived, this was no longer the world they once knew.
Suddenly, Li Zhi stood up and walked toward the redwood bed. A startled Chi Yi screamed, “Li Zhi!”
Everyone looked over in alarm, and by then, Li Zhi was already standing by the bed, examining the village chief’s body. It was clean, without any strange odor. It had been wiped down by her earlier.
Then, she extended her hand, her thumb and forefinger pinching the corners of the village chief’s smiling mouth.
Inside were three copper coins.
Xu Shu walked over, and Li Zhi turned to him, saying, “The problem must have been with the funeral clothes.”
Yesterday, Xu Shu, who had taken off the chief’s clothes, was fine. She, who wiped down his body, was also fine. Even Lian Qinglin, who placed the coins in his mouth, was fine. The only one who died was Zhang Xiao, who changed the funeral clothes. It meant that everything else was done correctly, except for the step involving the clothes.
Suddenly, everyone remembered Uncle Jiu’s warning from yesterday: Make sure the village chief is satisfied.
There were so many steps in the burial process, and if even one was done incorrectly, if the village chief wasn’t satisfied, then they would end up like Zhang Xiao—silently, without a trace, dead.
Like a wandering ghost, Uncle Jiu suddenly appeared at the entrance to the main hall, holding a rusty axe. His expression was grim. “Why aren’t the funeral clothes on properly yet? Soon we need to pick out a coffin. If you delay any longer, you’ll miss the timing, and that would be trouble.”
As Uncle Jiu left, dragging the axe behind him, the sobbing grew louder, and one by one, the team began to collapse in despair: “Now we have to choose a coffin? We don’t even know how to choose the funeral clothes!”
Xu Shu hadn’t teamed up with rookies in a long time, after all, his world had long since become a playground for supernatural beings. Watching this group of rookies cry instead of taking action filled him with a deep sense of irritation. “Crying won’t help! Keep crying, and we’ll all end up dead here!”
Someone yelled in response, “And what, not crying means we won’t die? There are so many funeral clothes, and we don’t even know how to pick the right one! Choose the wrong one, and one of us dies. Even with eight of us, we don’t have enough people to make it through this!”
Even the on-screen comments seemed to be infected by the players’ panic:
[These people are so annoying! They just keep crying and dragging everyone down!]
[A living person just died! And you only care about whether they cry or not?]
[I just voted for Zhang Xiao, and now he’s dead. I’m still in shock… is he really dead?]
[Too slow. The group in the instance next door has already lost three people.]
[A bunch of useless crybabies. This is boring, I’m switching to another stream.]
[Ever since the livestream began, it feels like the darkness in human nature has been exposed and amplified. You watch an innocent person die and actually cheer for it—I can’t understand it.]
[Didn’t everyone used to scream for the apocalypse to come quickly? Hahahaha, well, here it is! Celebrate![
[This one named Li Zhi isn’t bad. Let’s see how she handles things; I’m saving my votes for her.]
…
Amid the chaos, Li Zhi, who had been standing silently by the bed, suddenly turned and walked toward the corner. Her actions drew everyone’s attention, and even the sobbing quieted down. She stepped into the shadows where the light couldn’t reach, her face showing a sincere smile. “Might I know your esteemed name, sir?”
The young yin-yang master in a green robe stood in the darkness, his voice cold: “Li Jianxi.”
“Mr. Li,” Li Zhi asked with utmost sincerity, “Are there any specific rituals for putting on the funeral clothes? There are still many steps left, and it wouldn’t be good if we delayed you.”
It was as if the chandelier created a wall of light between them, with Li Zhi standing on the edge, straddling the boundary between light and shadow. Her eyes, bathed in the soft glow, were tender and full of anticipation as she looked toward the figure in the darkness.
The young master of feng shui seemed to hesitate for a moment before slowly responding, “When dressing the deceased, use odd numbers like five or seven, never even numbers. Choose silk, not satin. And avoid fur. The clothes should have no buttons, only ties, and avoid the colors black and white.”
Li Zhi’s eyes sparkled warmly, as if gazing affectionately at a puppy. “Thank you, Mr. Li. Having you guide us puts our minds at ease.” She sighed with a touch of sorrow. “It’s fortunate you’re here, otherwise we wouldn’t know what to do.”
The group: …?
Does it really work to flirt with an NPC like that?
No one could tell if the NPC felt the overwhelming charm she was projecting, but his voice indeed seemed less icy than before. “…You’re welcome.”
Li Zhi returned to the wooden rack, selecting five silk garments as instructed. She carefully checked to ensure there were no buttons before carrying the funeral clothes toward the redwood bed.
“Li Zhi!” Chi Yi called out nervously. “What if he’s lying to us? If you dress him wrong, you’ll die.”
Lian Qinglin immediately asked Xu Shu, “Can key NPCs in the instance lie?”
Xu Shu’s expression grew serious. “I’ve encountered some that told the truth, and others that lied, nearly causing our team’s demise.” He looked at Li Zhi. “Are you sure you want to risk it?”
Li Zhi held out the clothes toward him. “Not sure. How about you try?”
Xu Shu: “…”
With the bloody example of Zhang Xiao still fresh in their minds, the funeral clothes now seemed like a death warrant. Even a seasoned veteran like Xu Shu hesitated, not to mention the rest of the group.
It seemed Li Zhi wasn’t really expecting them to help anyway. She smiled and sat by the bed, beginning to dress the village chief’s corpse.
Suddenly, Lian Qinglin gritted his teeth and strode over to her. “I’ll help you!”
Chi Yi, trembling, also stepped forward, her face on the verge of tears, yet showing a determined sense of tragedy. She squeezed her eyes shut and, steeling herself, reached for the clothes on the bed.
Li Zhi gently stopped her. “Don’t touch it.” She blocked the two of them. “One person taking the risk is enough. No need to drag two more into it.”
Chi Yi burst into tears. “You’re going to die! You’re going to die tonight!”
Li Zhi raised an eyebrow. “Not necessarily.”
The confidence in her tone made Xu Shu glance over in surprise. “Do you know something?”
The naked corpse finally looked less eerie once two pieces of funeral clothing were draped over it.
As she slipped the stiff arms into the sleeves, Li Zhi explained, “Actually, you can deduce whether the NPC is lying based on what they said. Funeral customs have been passed down for thousands of years, and many of these rituals have reasoning behind them. In ancient times, people believed in homophones. ‘Satin’ sounds like ‘severing offspring,’ so they avoided it, which likely led to the rule of choosing silk instead of satin. The same reasoning applies to using ties instead of buttons—ties are less ominous. As for avoiding fur, that’s easy to understand. Since it comes from animals, people probably feared that wearing fur would lead to being reborn as a beast in the next life.”
Lian Qinglin thought for a moment, following her reasoning. “But we usually say good things come in pairs. Why use odd numbers for funeral clothes instead of even numbers?”
Li Zhi put on the third garment. “For the living, good things come in pairs, but that may not be the case for the dead. Yin and Yang are opposites. In the world of the living, even numbers are considered auspicious, but in the underworld, perhaps odd numbers are seen as favorable.”
Xu Shu asked, “What about the black and white colors and the numbers five and seven?”
Li Zhi quickly dressed the corpse in the final outer garment. “I’m not sure. But I remember when we filmed that horror movie, the props team prepared five pieces of blue and purple funeral clothes for the actor playing the deceased, and none of them had buttons. Given that the other points can be reasoned out, and there’s evidence to support these two details, I’m confident that the yin-yang master wasn’t lying.”
Chi Yi couldn’t help but ask anxiously, “Then why didn’t you let Lian Qinglin and me touch the clothes?”
Li Zhi tied the final ribbon. “Just in case. After all, these are only my deductions.” She dusted off her hands and stood up. “Alright, let’s repeat yesterday’s process.”
Now that they knew the consequences of getting a step wrong, no one dared to slack off. They knelt properly by the bed and burned another round of paper offerings. Afterward, they moved Zhang Xiao’s corpse aside before placing the village chief’s body back on the wooden plank.
The noisy comments finally quieted down:
[Li Zhi is amazing!]
[A smart and responsible beautiful woman? I’m all for it!]
[My love for intelligent women is making me vote like crazy for Li Zhi!]
[As expected, it’s the high-IQ characters that make this reality show worth watching. I have zero interest in those pretty but useless crybabies.]
…
After a brief period of chaos, Xu Shu quickly regained his composure. This task was supposed to be straightforward for newcomers—no need to search for clues or solve puzzles—otherwise, he wouldn’t have picked it. He realized that the NPC probably wouldn’t lie.
The role of the yin-yang master was to oversee the funeral rites. Given that setup, as long as they followed his instructions, they could clear the instance.
Relieved, Xu Shu turned to look at where Li Jianxi had been standing, but to his surprise, the spot was now empty.
His heart sank, and he rushed over, asking, “Where’s the yin-yang master? Did anyone see where he went?!”
Everyone had been so focused on completing the current task that no one had noticed when the yin-yang master left. They exchanged bewildered glances as Xu Shu grew frustrated. “Hurry and split up to find him! Without him, we don’t know the taboos around choosing a coffin!”
Panic spread among the group, and they were about to rush out when Li Zhi stopped them. “No need to look for him. He won’t show up again.” The sun had already risen, but the bright light did nothing to alleviate the tension. “According to traditional customs, the children of the deceased are supposed to prepare the coffin before their parents pass away. That part isn’t under the yin-yang master’s responsibilities.”
From outside, they heard the screeching sound of a metal blade being dragged across the ground. Uncle Jiu appeared in the doorway, his axe scraping menacingly against the floor, as if he was about to swing it at them. “Time to go to the coffin shop.”
The group huddled together, faces pale with fear. Li Zhi lowered her voice. “This stage, we’ll have to get through on our own.”