Setting aside the terrifying backdrop, Guanping Village was simply a picturesque mountain village, surrounded by nothing but houses, farmland, and vast fields of cypress trees. These cypress trees grew lush and verdant, tall and straight, as they were the most common evergreen trees in southern villages.
A wooden cart carrying a coffin creaked as it rolled over the limestone path.
Seeing the bewildered looks on the others’ faces, Li Zhi explained, “Since ancient times, most industries have adhered to the principle of using local materials whenever possible.”
She looked up at the distant stone bridge, which seemed to hover in mid-air. “Guanping Village is isolated, with winding mountain roads. The only way into the village is that bridge, making transportation very inconvenient. In a place like this, no matter what you do, you prioritize local resources because the cost of importing goods from outside is too high. The villagers here, living in such a remote and impoverished area, can’t afford coffins from outside. The most likely option would be to use local materials.”
And cypress was the most abundant and readily available resource in Guanping Village.
Qing Lin and Chi Yi suddenly realized the logic behind her thinking. The audience hadn’t expected her to judge the situation from this perspective, and now it made sense why she had been observing everything along the way.
As they walked, they noticed cypress trees growing not only on the mountains but also on the slopes alongside the village paths. However, in those areas, the soil and sunlight weren’t ideal, causing the trees to grow crooked and spindly, with thin branches.
Li Zhi bent down and picked up a branch that had been broken off by the wind. Its vibrant green needles were full, resembling ripe wheat spikes, and small green fruits dangled between the leaves.
Xu Shu suddenly spoke up, “The village is big. You haven’t been to every corner. What if there are willow or pine trees growing on the mountain?”
Unwilling to admit how reckless he had just been, he tried to cover it by questioning her judgment.
Li Zhi waved the cypress branch in front of him. “See this?”
Xu Shu frowned. “What?”
Li Zhi smiled, “The fruits.”
Xu Shu stared at her, still confused.
Li Zhi chuckled, “There’s a saying in our world: ‘The willow blooms but bears no fruit,’ which means willows don’t produce seeds. Since they avoid using satin burial clothes, they would definitely avoid using willow wood for coffins.”
A willow that doesn’t bear fruit symbolizes the end of a family line, while the many fruits of the cypress tree represent prosperity and descendants. Of course, they would choose cypress wood.
Xu Shu seemed like he still wanted to argue, “But there’s also…”
Chi Yi angrily interrupted him, “At least we know willow wood is wrong! A willow coffin is the wrong answer! And the NPC’s reaction proves that Zhi Zhi made the right choice!”
Xu Shu’s expression darkened, and he coldly replied, “I just want to complete the task quickly and bring the coffin back.”
The rest of the group fell silent and sped up to transport the coffin back.
Ashes from burnt paper floated in the air over the courtyard wall. A brazier stood in front of the mourning hall, where three trembling players knelt, burning paper. Seeing them return, they breathed a collective sigh of relief.
The missing yin-yang master reappeared, his voice still emotionless: “Prepare for the burial.”
The other three players, aware of their guilt, now eagerly jumped in to help. Following the instructions, they placed the coffin in the mourning hall and set up the interior under the guidance of the yin-yang master. Finally, the village chief’s body was ready to be placed in the coffin, but it required the children to lift him together. His head, waist, and legs all needed to be aligned horizontally as he was moved into the coffin.
Even though none of them wanted to touch the corpse, they had no choice now. Who knew if one of the conditions for death might be failing to make physical contact during the burial?
Li Zhi glanced at the corner of the main room where Zhang Xiao’s body had been. Now, it was gone, and she frowned. “Where’s Zhang Xiao’s body?”
The female host, Pei Xu, shuddered and whispered, “Uncle Jiu took it away.”
They had been inexplicably dragged into this deadly reality show, and after death, not even a body would be left behind. They had no idea what the NPCs might do with them—whether they’d be turned into something else, or worse, transformed into monsters. A cold, despairing atmosphere spread among the group like a shared grief, as they looked down at the corpse they held, finding it both detestable and terrifying.
The village chief, however, simply smiled faintly. Beneath his yellowed, waxy skin, dark patches of livor mortis were spreading rapidly.
The coffin was not yet sealed. According to local customs, the body could only be buried after a three-day vigil, and this was only the second day. During this time, they were supposed to notify the villagers and invite them to come and pay their respects. Thinking of the villagers throwing paper money from the front of the truck when they had entered the village, the group shuddered in unison.
Li Zhi thought for a moment. “You should split into pairs. The village isn’t that big, so you should be able to notify everyone quickly.”
Seeing her preparing to go alone, Chi Yi grew anxious. “What about you?”
Li Zhi replied, “I want to check out the ancestral hall.”
The other three looked at her in confusion, but Xu Shu quickly caught on. “You still suspect that we were adopted by the village chief?”
Li Zhi nodded. “I want to see if there are any clues in the ancestral hall.”
Gao Shijun, who now looked ten years older, paced back and forth, agitated. “Why complicate things? Let’s just follow the task requirements!”
The other two also showed their disapproval. Chi Yi softly added, “It’s dangerous for you to go alone.”
Everyone seemed to oppose her idea, but then Xu Shu suddenly said, “We have to go.” His voice was firm. “If Li Zhi’s suspicion is correct, it means we might be heading in the wrong direction with our current task.”
Li Zhi hadn’t planned on revealing her thoughts so soon to avoid disrupting the others’ morale, but since Xu Shu brought it up, she had no choice but to continue. “The task requires us to bury our family. But if we were adopted, then who is really our family?”
Is it their biological parents, or the adoptive village chief? If it’s the former, then even if they successfully bury the village chief, they wouldn’t have completed the task.
This was the pitfall set by the system, a trap it had laid from the moment it assigned the task.
Sure enough, the group found it hard to accept her reasoning. They were already enduring immense fear and psychological pressure, and they had already lost a teammate. After everything they had been through, was she saying that all their efforts had been in vain?
Gao Shijun clutched his head in despair. “That’s just your theory!”
Li Zhi nodded. “That’s why I need to confirm it.”
Xu Shu stepped forward. “I’ll go with you.”
Li Zhi gave him a surprised look. Unexpectedly, Zhu Zhibo and Pei Xu also spoke up. “We’ll go with you too.”
Li Zhi glanced at the two of them, raising an eyebrow in understanding.
They had avoided participating in the coffin selection, which had cost them their audience’s favor. Now they needed to do something to win it back. Informing the villagers of the funeral wasn’t likely to generate much interest, but Li Zhi’s theory would definitely capture the viewers’ attention. Following her would boost their exposure and popularity.
It was just a search for clues in the ancestral hall, unrelated to whether the village chief would be pleased or not, so it shouldn’t be too dangerous.
Chi Yi, already worried about Li Zhi going alone, said, “Why don’t we notify the villagers together first, then go to the ancestral hall as a group?”
No one had any objections, and Li Zhi didn’t oppose it either.
Guanping Village wasn’t too big, but it wasn’t small either. About a dozen households still lived there, scattered throughout the village. Judging by the many abandoned houses, the village had once been much more populated. For some unknown reason, it had since fallen into disrepair, turning into this desolate place.
By the time they had notified all the villagers, it was already afternoon. The sun was casting long, slanting rays over the surrounding mountains, and the shadows cloaking the forested hills resembled an inverted bowl covering the entire village.
The group headed toward the ancestral hall.
Amid the ruined, dilapidated buildings of the mountain village, the ancestral hall stood out as a grand structure. Climbing the stone steps, they saw many stone pillars supporting the eaves, each intricately carved with stone reliefs. Above the tightly shut doors hung a plaque bearing the words Guan Family Ancestral Hall.
Li Zhi reached out and pushed open the large, carved wooden doors.
The doors opened silently, and a thick scent of incense immediately wafted out, filling the air.
The interior of the ancestral hall was vast and empty. In the center stood a shrine filled with many ancestral tablets. Each tablet had a small incense burner in front of it, but instead of incense, there were long, thin white candles burning in each one.
With so many white candles lit at once, the entire hall was illuminated brightly, almost as if it were daytime. The candles burned steadily, and while the smell wasn’t particularly unpleasant, the concentration of so many candles together created a strong, choking odor. Someone coughed twice from the irritation, while Li Zhi bypassed the prayer cushions and altar to examine the tablets.
A quick glance showed that all the names on the tablets bore the surname Guan. This was a village governed by a clan-based system, and the ancestral hall housed the memorial tablets of the Guan clan members.
In front of the central shrine sat an old, dusty book. The cover was so thick with grime that the words were impossible to make out. Li Zhi was just about to lean in for a closer look when a sudden scream tore through the air: “It hurts—!”
Li Zhi turned to see the female host, Pei Xu, clutching her hand, where a burn mark had appeared on the back of it. She frantically rubbed her hand, panicking. “What is this?!”
Everyone tensed up. Li Zhi quickly approached and lifted Pei Xu’s wrist. In just a few seconds, the burn had worsened, blistering the entire area, and the substance Pei Xu had scraped off her skin was now in pieces on the ground.
“It’s candle wax.”
The wax from the burning candles had dripped down, forming a milky white layer on her skin.
Suddenly, there was a faint dripping sound, one drop after another, slow yet continuous, falling from above.
Realizing what was happening, everyone looked up abruptly.
The bright candle flames illuminated the ceiling of the hall. Above them, clinging to the roof, was a large, writhing mass of white.
To say it was “clinging” was not quite right—it seemed to be stuck there, formless and fluid, like a massive glob of viscous, flowing white wax. From its body, strings of wax stretched downward, dripping onto the floor with a sizzling sound.
Though it had no defined shape, when the group looked up at it, the blob seemed to shift, as if peering down at them. Then, it began to move rapidly, its sticky body flowing across the ceiling. As it moved, limbs and a head began to take form.
Li Zhi shouted, “Run!”
Snapped out of their shock, the group began to scream and bolted toward the door in a panic.
The wax continued to drip from above, sizzling and smoking as it hit the ground. When it landed on their skin, it burned through flesh. Just as they neared the door, a blood-curdling scream rang out from behind them: “Help! Help me—!”
Li Zhi spun around and saw Pei Xu lying on the floor, her lower body wrapped in a thick mass of white wax. The wax was solidifying quickly, welding her to the ground and preventing her from escaping.
Xu Shu, seeing Li Zhi hesitate, shoved her. “Go!”
Without much hesitation, Li Zhi turned back toward Pei Xu, grabbing her flailing hands and trying to pull her out of the solidified wax.
By this time, the others had already made it outside. Chi Yi sobbed, “Li Zhi! Run!”
Pei Xu clung to Li Zhi’s wrist, her face wet with tears. “Save me, please—save me!”
The wax creature was now slithering down through the doors and windows, its bubbling, molten body slowly morphing into a humanoid figure as it approached them.
Finally, Li Zhi felt the tension in her hands ease.
She had managed to pull Pei Xu free from the wax, but Pei Xu’s eyes were still wide open in a desperate plea for help. Yet her body was severed at the waist—her lower half had been completely melted by the wax.
Li Zhi had only pulled out the top half of Pei Xu’s body.
Blood and entrails smeared across the floor, leaving a gruesome trail as the scene played out in full view of the horrified audience.
Li Zhi’s expression was cold, to a chilling degree. Yet even as she held the severed torso, she didn’t let go. She moved swiftly, dodging the wax creature’s sluggish, newly-formed limbs, and darted through the doors with Pei Xu’s remains in tow.
—
Translator’s Note:
What the hell… I didn’t expect this to be bloody/gory LMAO and I have a vivid imagination too 😭