The wax monster didn’t chase them. Instead, it stuck to the doors and windows, turning back into a sticky, creeping puddle and disappearing from sight.
The door of the ancestral hall closed silently. The air was thick with the overwhelming stench of blood. Blood dripped down the steps from the entrance, like a thin, twisted red line.
Li Zhi carried the half of the body, feeling the warmth of a human slowly fading from her hands, turning cold and rigid. Pei Xu’s hand had stiffened in death, her bony fingers clamped onto Li Zhi’s hand like the claw of a ghost, filled with a stubborn grimace.
From a distance, Gao Shijun watched in horror and broke down. “Why did you even bring her out?”
The mangled cross-section of the body still had traces of congealed wax. Mixed with human blood, the white wax turned red, resembling the festive red candles used in weddings.
Li Zhi glanced down at the half of the corpse in her hands and said calmly, “We need to find a place to bury her.”
Hearing this, the group gradually snapped out of their overwhelming fear, their faces turning to sorrow. They had no idea where Zhang Xiao’s body had disappeared, and Pei Xu’s body wasn’t even whole. They were once lively celebrities on screen, now witnesses to each other’s death in front of countless viewers.
When will it be my turn? It has to happen eventually, right?
The silence in the air was deafening.
Ahead, not far away, there was a small forest. Li Zhi picked a flat spot, prying Pei Xu’s stiff, claw-like fingers off her one by one. The half of the body lay lifeless in the grass, its wide-open eyes staring up at the verdant leaves above.
Lian Qinglin found a rusty shovel from a nearby abandoned courtyard and began digging a hole in the grassy ground.
Suddenly, Li Zhi stood up and began walking away.
Chi Yi quickly got up, a bit nervous. “Zhi Zhi?”
Li Zhi didn’t respond, just waved a hand behind her.
Xu Shu said, “Let her be alone for a while.”
He had teamed up with people like Li Zhi before, and had even been saved by such people.
In a life-and-death crisis, players who would turn back to save others were rarer than endangered animals in the game. They were different from the others, but defining that difference simply as ‘kindness’ didn’t seem accurate.
After facing death over and over again, in a world where seeing death had become as normal as eating, these people, while strong and composed, never seemed to lose their respect for life.
Xu Shu watched Li Zhi’s slim figure in the distance, his gaze complicated.
After walking far enough, the stench of blood faded away. The fresh scent of grass and soil filled the air. Li Zhi walked to a place out of their sight and suddenly leaned against a tree to vomit.
Bile rose, and her throat burned.
Behind her, she heard the faint rustling of footsteps in the grass.
Thinking it was one of her companions checking on her, she wiped the corner of her mouth and turned around, only to freeze in surprise before smiling. “Mr. Li, what are you doing here?”
Li Jianxi was dressed in his usual green robes, holding a compass in his hand. He spoke sparingly, “Surveying the grave.”
The village chief’s funeral was the day after tomorrow, and the ying-yang master had to find the proper burial site based on the deceased’s birth and death dates, following feng shui principles.
Li Zhi nodded in understanding, her face pale from vomiting but her expression calm. “Thank you for your hard work, sir.”
Li Jianxi glanced at her briefly, then compared his compass and continued walking forward, as if he were really just passing by. As he walked past her, he paused slightly, turned back, and looked at her once more.
Li Zhi tilted her head slightly, smiling as she playfully winked at him.
Li Jianxi suddenly spoke. “That place, you can only enter it at night.”
Li Zhi froze for a moment, realizing what he was referring to.
This NPC seemed different from the others.
Suppressing the strange feeling in her heart, Li Zhi smiled even more. “Why are you helping me, sir?”
Li Jianxi didn’t answer. He simply looked at her quietly. His beautiful eyes were clean and empty, much like the eyes of a newborn, curiously and aimlessly exploring the world. After a few seconds, he turned and, holding his compass, disappeared into the forest.
Li Zhi watched his retreating figure, deep in thought.
The audience watching this scene was abuzz with discussion:
[So, has she triggered a solo mission?]
[Could this absurdly handsome yin-yang master be the key to solving everything? Why would he help the player?]
[He’s so good-looking; surely, he wouldn’t lie, right?]
[Good-looking people are the best at lying! Doesn’t matter if they’re men or women! Zhi Zhi, don’t trust him! Please don’t go back to the ancestral hall—the monster is too terrifying, sob.]
[NPCs have no reason to help players. He’s trying to send Li Zhi to her death!]
[The guide said nighttime is the most dangerous in this game, and he’s urging Li Zhi to explore the hall at night! So handsome, but so heartless!]
[Please, no more deaths. Let them all make it out alive.]
…
By the time Li Zhi returned, the grave had been dug. Together, they gently lowered Pei Xu’s body into the pit. Li Zhi reached out and closed her lifeless eyes, which had remained open in death, and placed a few wildflowers she had picked from the grass earlier in Pei Xu’s arms.
After covering the grave with dirt, they stuck a tree branch into the earth as a makeshift tombstone. Everyone stared at the simple grave with heavy hearts.
On the way back, no one spoke. As they approached the courtyard where paper ash swirled in the air, they noticed that the villagers, who had been previously informed of the situation, were coming in and out to pay their respects.
The once eerie courtyard had now come alive with activity. Round tables were set up, ready for the funeral feast. Uncle Jiu led two men who carried a large pot, placing it over the firewood pile against the courtyard wall. A chopping board nearby was stacked with chunks of meat and bones.
When he saw the group returning, he looked displeased. “The guests are here already. Why are you still dawdling outside? Hurry to the kitchen and start cooking! We need to prepare the feast for the villagers!”
As he spoke, he swept all the meat from the chopping board into the pot and stirred it with a large ladle.
Gao Shijun’s teeth chattered. “That meat… it couldn’t be…”
Someone behind them gagged at the thought.
No one dared to think too deeply about what kind of meat it might be. They quickly went into the kitchen and busied themselves. There were already ingredients laid out. Those who could cook got to work, while those who couldn’t prepared the vegetables. Keeping themselves busy left no room for their minds to wander.
By evening, the funeral feast began. The round tables were filled with villagers, eating, drinking, and chatting noisily. It almost seemed like a normal, lively scene—until Uncle Jiu served the pot of meat stew and enthusiastically invited the players to try it. At that moment, the unsettling truth of the situation began to creep back in.
The lively atmosphere didn’t last long. Before nightfall, the villagers quickly finished their meal and left in a hurry, as if they, too, were afraid of something.
Once again, the courtyard fell silent. The night wind rustled the paper figures on either side of the ancestral hall, making a soft, scraping sound. When the players finished cleaning up and stepped outside, they saw the yin-yang master standing in front of the coffin, holding an oil lamp in his hand.
“Tonight, we must keep vigil. The eternal light must not go out.”
The flame of the oil lamp flickered weakly, as thin as the tip of incense ash, as if it could go out with the slightest gust of wind.
After saying this, Li Jianxi set the lamp down and left. Lian Qinglin quickly rushed over to move the oil lamp inside the hall, where the makeshift tent could block the wind. The flame finally steadied and stood upright.
Even though they all knew the night was the most dangerous time, the task of keeping vigil couldn’t be avoided. Xu Shu suggested, “Let’s draw lots. We’ll pair up in groups of two, and each group will keep watch for four hours.”
It was the fairest way, and no one objected. Chi Yi quickly chimed in, “I want to be in a group with Li Zhi!”
Unexpectedly, Li Zhi, who had always indulged Chi Yi, refused her this time. “You should pair up with someone else.”
Chi Yi looked at her, hurt, not understanding why she was being rejected. Lian Qinglin quickly jumped in, “I’ll pair with you! I’m really good at this too!”
Li Zhi turned her head towards Xu Shu and said, “Let’s pair up.”
Xu Shu nodded in agreement.
The six of them split into three groups. Li Zhi drew the early night shift, which meant she and Xu Shu had to keep watch until midnight.
The others returned to their rooms to rest, leaving only Li Zhi, Xu Shu, and the smiling corpse in the ancestral hall.
As soon as night fell, the temperature dropped, and a thick white fog spread through the night, carrying a sticky humidity. The eternal light burned quietly, casting a dim, yellowish glow on the draped tent.
Xu Shu glanced at Li Zhi, who sat quietly in thought. After hesitating for a moment, he decided to speak. “I was a bit reckless when I chose the coffin earlier. Sorry about that.”
Li Zhi turned her head, her pretty eyes holding a hint of amusement, but her tone remained calm. “That doesn’t seem like a mistake an experienced player would make.”
A trace of discomfort flashed across Xu Shu’s face. “I’m not really that skilled in my world.”
Li Zhi examined him for a few moments. “You’re here for points, aren’t you? You thought this beginner-level quest would be easy, so you became a guide to earn points.”
Xu Shu stared at her in shock. “I never mentioned points!”
Li Zhi smiled. “You said you came for popularity, but what’s the use of that? There must be some way to convert popularity into something like points to exchange for rewards. That’s the only reason you’d risk this. Earlier, you mentioned that we’d understand once we cleared the level. The reward is only given after clearing it, right?”
Xu Shu looked at her in amazement. From the moment he first saw Li Zhi, he knew she was calm, intelligent, and sharp—a person with all the traits to dominate these challenges. But he never expected her to figure out the system of points and rewards so quickly.
She continued, “Let me guess, the rewards are defensive items? Things that can protect you from ghost attacks?”
Li Zhi didn’t need him to answer; she could tell from his expression that she was right. “So you acted recklessly earlier because you have something to keep you safe. Even if you chose the wrong coffin, someone else would die, not you. You were using us as guinea pigs.”
The candlelight flickered over Xu Shu’s face, revealing his anger and panic after having his thoughts exposed. He opened his mouth to say something, but Li Zhi was already standing up.
“I’m heading out for a bit. You’ll be fine on your own, right?”
Xu Shu was still reeling from the conversation. “Where are you going? Are you insane?!”
Li Zhi looked out into the dark night. “To the ancestral hall.”
The chat room had just been buzzing with applause for Li Zhi’s sharp reasoning, but when they heard she was heading to the ancestral hall, it exploded with cries of alarm.
[Li Zhi must have been seduced by his looks! How could she trust the yin-yang master’s words?!]
[Li Zhi cannot die! Without her, I feel like the whole team is doomed!]
[I’ve watched over ten streams, and Li Zhi’s the smartest! I just invested in her! Don’t throw it all away now!]
But once Li Zhi made up her mind, there was no changing it.
Xu Shu couldn’t persuade her, so he could only watch helplessly as she walked out through the courtyard gates. Inside his pocket, his fingers clenched around the reward item he had earned in a previous quest. He hesitated for a long time but ultimately didn’t take it out.