TWBS c32~59

表里世界 ☆ 

The World Below Surface

ARC 3 (ch32 – ch59) Word count: 93k

32 ☆ Horror games

Translator: InkyDragon

In the dimly lit room, Lu Yan sat hunched over his computer, brow furrowed in deep concentration. His fingers tapped incessantly on the keyboard, searching for information on the screen before him.

“No, there was no mistaking ……” he muttered under his breath, eyes fixed on a particular pattern on the screen. It was an intricate design that seemed to pulsate with a life of its own.

The image brought to mind a group of people he had seen in the park earlier that day, just before they exploded. He remembered the tattoos on their skin, each bearing the same unmistakable pattern as before him.

He had a vague notion that these people were part of a religious group and that their actions were in some way related to a sacrifice they were making to their god. But before, he had not delved too deeply into their beliefs or tried to uncover their motivations. It was enough that he knew they were dangerous.

As he pondered what to do next, a sudden thought struck him: What if these people were still around tomorrow?

He delved deeper, scouring for any information he could find. He found what he sought – the religion behind the pattern, the Omniscient Divine Sect. They believed in an all-powerful and all-knowing god and that by following its guidance, they could reach heaven and wash away their sins.

The religion he stumbled upon in his search was the same one An Xing Yu had told him about. The Omniscient Divine Sect existed in this world too.

He quickly erased the pattern he had drawn on paper to avoid “misfortune.” He gave himself a mental suggestion not to dwell too much on the symbol.

As he pondered the implications of his discovery, he thought of the people from the other world who believed in science and not in ghosts or gods. It was a world he once knew that was now lost to him.

Lu Yan had hypnotized dozens of taskers; all seemed to be hailing from the same place and had the same basic understanding of their world, except that their world was not his. Due to a mutation, there were no famous names or locations overlapping between the two worlds, and many significant events had never occurred.

Whenever he inquired about task-related information, they were suddenly controlled by an unknown force and driven to suicide. No amount of restraint could save them from a terrifying fate. There was even a case of someone inexplicably suffocating to death while completely unconscious. Since then, he had never attempted a similar experiment.

For years, he had been searching for commonalities between the two worlds and exploring the reason for his world’s mutation, which seemed to send countless ordinary people over to undertake impossible tasks. Whenever these people arrived, his world would return to a sense of “normalcy.” If taskers died, they would reappear in this world in another form.

It was as if a force was at play, exchanging humans between two separate worlds like pieces in a game.

Was it just his delusion, or had the whole world gone wrong?

Was he losing his sanity, or was the world losing its grip on reality?

Were there truly two worlds, or was it merely his memory playing tricks on him?

Lu Yan had tirelessly searched for answers, once even placing faith in the divine and attempting self-hypnosis, yet all to no avail. He was forced to confront this peculiar and crumbling world.

But he refused to surrender.

At every opportunity, he contacted the group of taskers and extracted information from them. The Omniscient Sect’s discovery was a significant milestone in his years-long study!

A sharp scream pierced the air outside the window. Lu Yan looked at the reflection on his computer screen and saw a red silhouette against the glass. Its face was ashen, and eyes gouged out, staring unblinkingly into the room.

Simultaneously, he heard tapping at the window.

Ignoring it, he seamlessly switched the computer page to some game.

In the next moment, an icy hand grabbed his ankle!

Lu Yan rose from his seat and proceeded to the living room to prepare tea. The hand suddenly vanished upon standing as if it had all been a mere illusion.

A figure dressed in red stared at Lu Yan with an intense fixation for a long while before disappearing outside the window.

Lu Yan lowered his head slightly, inspecting the charred handprint on his ankle. 

**

In a different world, a youth with ivory skin prayed and reported his latest mission in full detail. Afterwards, he logged out with a devout smile, thanking the gods and the omniscient deity for their protection. 

An Xing Yu may not have survived without the all-knowing Omniscient deity’s intervention. An Xing Yu was fortunate to encounter the first batch of taskers during his first mission. They informed him of the tasker website’s existence. One of them was a follower of the Omniscient Sect, which led him to join the religion. 

Although the tasker had died during a mission, An Xing Yu firmly believed that he had returned to the gods’ embrace. He would exist in a kingdom of eternal happiness and peace without the suffering of ageing, sickness, and death.

“Oh god, please bless me,” An Xing Yu repeated the prayer before opening his book to review. Following his first mission, An Xing Yu fell gravely ill due to overwhelming psychological pressure. As a result, he applied for home study, and his teacher, concerned about any potential incidents, reluctantly approved it. 

Except for his weekly attendance of classes in weak subjects and sporadic exams, he spent most of his time studying at home.

However, none of his teachers, classmates or even his parents suspected he was engaged in something truly horrific.

Later that evening, An Xing Yu’s father arrived home.

An Ru, An Xing Yu’s father, was a policeman who frequently dealt with various cases and was often required to travel. Thus, opportunities to dine together as a family were exceedingly rare.

During dinner, the three inevitably began chatting.

An Ru had previously been very strict with his son, but since that one incident, he had never again hindered his child’s studies. On the contrary, An Xing Yu himself had taken to studying until late every night, and his grades had since skyrocketed.

“Have you seen the news today? The big case at the station, twelve people, all died simultaneously…” An Ru began before being interrupted by his wife, who twisted his leg under the table and quickly retorted, “We’re having dinner; why are you talking about this in front of the child?”

“It’s alright, Mom; we saw the news during the day, didn’t we?” An Xing Yu reassured her, showing no sign of discomfort. “Dad, did you handle this case today?”

“Yes,” An Ru sighed, shaking his head. “In recent years, I don’t know what’s going on, but these cases are increasing.”

As stress weighed heavily on him, his once dark hair gradually gave way to a sea of white, and his brow knitted tightly.

In recent years, there had been a surge in reports about major death incidents. What was most troubling was that the culprit remained elusive in every case. Without any evidence to support the notion that it was a homicide, the horrific nature of the deaths made it hard for even the authorities to believe it was a suicide. As a result, the police station had been flooded with files on these unsolved cases, which could only be suppressed through local officials’ intervention.

With a palpable sense of fear gripping the populace, small cult organisations had been rapidly gaining traction. The one that posed the greatest challenge was the “Omniscient Divine Sect”. Nobody knew when it was first established, but scores of people would die at every gathering. To make matters worse, the cult had managed to infiltrate many schools, prompting An Ru to acquiesce to An Xing Yu’s home-schooling arrangement.

“Dad, thank you for everything,” An Xing Yu said in a stilted tone.

An Ru looked at his son intently for a while before finally relenting and patting him on the shoulder. The three of them exchanged glances and couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

After dinner, instead of retiring to his room, An Xing Yu asked his father to provide more details about the case.

Upon completing his mission, he rushed home from the train station, oblivious to those around him. An Ru still bore the unmistakable stench of blood, suggesting that he had been to the crime scene and perhaps even sifted through files at the police station.

An Xing Yu frequently inquired about the details of such cases from his father, An Ru, who had grown accustomed to it. Occasionally, he shared some information with him. However, this time, he sighed and said nothing, letting his son return to his studies.

The incident occurred at the most crowded and bustling train station. It was already late at night, and the old-fashioned green carriages, which had not yet been phased out, had fewer passengers. 

In particular, the last carriage was empty. The door was closed, with the glass window blurred and unclear, discovered only when the conductor checked every carriage.

He retrieved the key and unlocked the door from the outside, but the sight inside was enough to make everyone shudder: twelve people were dead inside the carriage!

Even more chilling was that each person’s death was unique yet equally grotesque and repugnant. Four had their organs scooped out and replaced with straw without a trace of blood. One male corpse had been cut open, with blood splattered everywhere. Two female corpses had their hands severed, and another male corpse had been cooked alive…

These deaths were enough to make everyone’s skin crawl. The first conductor to discover the scene was a recent hire, and upon opening the door, he was scared out of his wits. Many colleagues who went to the scene vomited on the spot.

An Ru’s expression was complex.

He had been a materialistic atheist for decades, but the cases he encountered became increasingly bizarre in recent years. Seeing what he saw today, it was difficult for him to maintain his beliefs.

Could humans truly be capable of such atrocities?

Without prompting, An Xing Yu confined himself to his room and dedicated his time to studying vocabulary, finding solace in the process.

An Ru watched as his son’s figure receded, a pang of heartache piercing his chest.

The once jovial young man had transformed into a lifeless shell after the incident in less than a year.

Those cursed cultists!

**

The following day, Lu Yan arose and drew the curtains open.

Beyond the window, many eerie balloons floated by, each one shaped like a human head! Giggling, they ascended into the sky, bursting at a certain height due to air pressure and drenching the area with sticky, red and white fluid as their strings fell below.

One of the strings coiled around an innocent bystander, tightening with a life of its own until the person gasped and cried out in pain.

“Ah – no, it hurts! Mom…”

A little girl nearby suffered a similar fate, her pleas for help falling on deaf ears as her mother looked on, clapping with glee. The thread eventually snapped the girl’s neck, turning her into a new balloon. 

Lu Yan kept his distance from those inexplicable balloons and made his way back to the park.

Despite the devastation wrought the previous day, the buildings had been restored to their former glory, as if the explosion had never happened. Red- and white-robed cultists had congregated in the park. With keen eyesight, Lu Yan spotted a red tattoo near the leader’s ear and another on the back of a woman’s hand. When he raised his arm, a man’s tattoo peeked out from beneath his sleeve.

The formation was bizarre, reminiscent of the Yin Yang Fish from Taoism. But the tattoos adorning their skin bore an inverted cross, emblematic of Western mysticism. How incongruous.

Lu Yan scrutinized the group, but when they sensed his gaze, he turned promptly and left.

One person halted and watched Lu Yan depart with a sympathetic gaze. She sighed and wished him well, “May God bless you…”

The wind swept up her robe, revealing her lower leg with a fresh red tattoo: a reversed cross and an inverted seven-pointed star.

Upon his return, Lu Yan submitted a brief report to his superiors. They were engrossed in entangling with their lovers and granted his leave request without hesitation.

As Lu Yan stepped out of the company’s gate, several human head balloons floated in the sky, only to burst with a pop.

To his surprise, the explosion lacked the expected gore and paranormal activity. The balloons burst like ordinary ones, leaving no trace of cotton thread.

Lu Yan looked back and discovered the buildings behind him transformed, now pristine and orderly. The street full of suicidal and hysterical people was now replaced with ordinary pedestrians.

“Mom, buy me a balloon.” A girl pulled her mother’s hand, gesturing toward a street vendor. The young mother smiled patiently and indulged her daughter.

Without fail, the taskers had returned.

Lu Yan pondered what it would be this time.

**

“Playing a horror game? This mission is too strange.”

“Each mission always has an eerie air to it, does it not?”

“Although that may be true, I have no desire to eat ash rice. The mere thought of it is repugnant.”

“Even so, you still ate raw cat meat last time to save your life.”

“Speaking of which, this mission is particularly peculiar. We must play a horror game for seven days and recruit random pedestrians every midnight to make up a group of six players. However, only four of us are there, so we need to find two more people.”

“Brother Chu, do you have any ideas?”

Inside a black four-wheel-drive, four individuals engaged in a heated discussion. Three of them were incessantly chatting away while Brother Chu sat in the front passenger seat, his dark eyes fixed on the road ahead. He curved his lips upon hearing his name and glanced at the man and woman in the back seat through the rearview mirror. “Do you not understand that the task’s difficulty must be balanced? The more tasks a performer completes, the more arduous the tasks assigned to them.”

In other words, this mission was excessively challenging, and not many people could complete it. Therefore, ordinary taskers were not required to join.

The man in the back seat let out a long sigh and slumped back. The woman beside him hastily asked, “So, Brother Chu, have you noticed any clues this time?”

In the passenger seat was Chu Xiu (楚休), a young man whose task count was incalculable and who occasionally joined missions that weren’t his own. No one knew his motives, but the death toll was always lower with his presence.

Thus, their spirits lifted when the three heard of their assignment with Chu Xiu, known on the site as Feng Xiu Zi.

Chu Xiu fixed his gaze on the dimming road ahead and the skies that slowly became overcast, murmuring, “Perhaps we should exercise caution with the required NPCs this time.”

Who could say for certain that they were really “passersby”?

“And the task does not specify a specific number of locals. We must assemble six people. So, if one of us dies, we must find one more.”

That would only increase the likelihood of finding ghosts!

The three passengers trembled with apprehension, imagining the dire consequences of choosing a ghost in human guise. They agreed to select passersby carefully.

And besides… Chu Xiu recalled the file sent by [Tall buildings will fall].

[Tall buildings will fall] had installed an automatic sending system that would automatically dispatch the file to Chu Xiu’s mailbox if left unattended for 24 hours.

The other party claimed that some NPCs had awakened and become aware of outsiders. What did they mean?

33 ☆ The Black Cat

The Awakening of NPCs…

Was it an individual or a group? Was there a trigger for it? To what extent have they awakened? Why did “Tall buildings will fall” use the phrase they have an awakening? The other party would not have used such dramatic language if they were simply high-intelligence NPCs.

Chu Xiu had many questions but wanted to avoid publicising this issue.

Task-takers can’t predict the future or find hope. Like ordinary people, if nothing unexpected happens, they would have spend their lives in peace. Yet they live on the edge of life and death.

Unfortunately, they’ve been pulled into the most terrifying and darkest world, where the scythe of death always looms. The psychological pressure is unimaginable for ordinary people. Every month, the website records over a dozen suicides. Batch after batch of people dies, yet the number of registered users on the site only increases and never decreases.

The other three people in the car appear optimistic, laughing and playing around. But it’s precisely because they know they could die at any moment. They try their best to leave a smile on their face in their last moments of life.

After experiencing life-and-death escapes, it’s difficult for them to follow the rules and regulations of modern society. They’ve already accepted the behaviour of the taskers venting their anger on the local residents of this world and calling them NPCs.

Killing people here was still preferable to killing people in the real world.

This was the reason why Chu Xiu chose to conceal this information.

If this matter were made public, it would undoubtedly cause the executors’ already fragile mental state to spiral out of control, with immeasurable consequences. “Tall buildings will fall” may have had the same thought, so he shared the information with Chu Xiu. However, although he claimed to have only informed Chu Xiu, it couldn’t be guaranteed that he was telling the truth. It remains to be seen whether others received the same information.

While He Lou’s message hinted unease, Chu Xiu had a different perspective.

Many have attempted to uncover the secrets behind the tasks, but they’ve all come up empty-handed. The NPC that He Lou mentioned might be a turning point.

Unfortunately, there was no further information disclosed. Chu Xiu needed to find out who this NPC was and whether he could be found in this world.

As the vehicle continued to drive, the four people inside chatted away, appearing no different from ordinary tourists if it weren’t for the fact that the areas they passed through were becoming increasingly remote and desolate.

Upon arriving at their destination, the sight before them was terrifying. It was silent and devoid of any people; not even the insects that had constantly been chirping before could be heard now. 

The sun-bleached road revealed a mottled white background, and the trees were bare and leafless.

The vehicle came to a halt in front of an old signpost. The sign had an unusual appearance, with its blue paint mostly worn off, revealing the shiny silver metal underneath. However, the words on top were bright red and entirely intact, clearly spelling out the words “Yin-Yang Road”.

It was as though the words were written with… blood.

“Okay, this is it. Let’s go over the mission again. Seven days, seven games. On the first day, we’ll randomly select two passersby from Yin-Yang Road and play a game called Shadow with them at the crossroads at midnight. Each person takes a turn and must complete all the steps. Only when everyone has finished can we leave.” The driver, Nie Yun Zhen (聂允真), spoke first after stopping the car.

Once he had finished explaining the mission, he looked at the signpost and felt a heavy weight in his heart. There seemed to be something ominous about this place, something lurking in the corner, watching everyone closely!

“To play this game in such a place…” The man in the back seat turned pale.

He had tried to steer the conversation away from this topic earlier to ease his fears. Still, Nie Yun Zhen’s words mercilessly shattered his illusion.

He was still afraid of the whole thing, including the game.

The game was called Shadow, but it might also have another name – Summoning Ghosts! It required the players to stand alone on the roadside after midnight, facing their shadows while walking forward, calling out their names with each step. Only after taking thirteen steps could they leave.

The man in the back seat, Ye Sheng Ke (叶盛科), was a materialist before being inexplicably pulled into this mission. At that time, he was a very courageous person who did not believe in ghosts and often played supernatural games with like-minded friends. He had played everything from “Pen Fairy” (笔仙) to “Bloody Mary” (血腥玛丽), and his highest record was spending a night in a cemetery alone. 

He was proud of himself at the time and filmed the entire process of playing the game, boasting to his friends, “I told you, there are no ghosts in this world; it’s all just self-scaring.”

However, that was until he learned his lesson.

Three years ago, he played “Shadow” with his friends. It was said that when you reach the thirteenth step, you will find an extra shadow on the ground, which is the “thing” you have summoned. It may help you, or it may ask for your help.

At that time, Ye Sheng Ke didn’t believe it and played the game first. Nothing happened. His friend, who was originally a bit timid, saw that he was okay and got out of the car to face his own shadow step by step. But when he reached the thirteenth step, something indeed occurred…

Ye Sheng Ke closed his eyes, unable to think about it again.

Now, he had to play the game again.

“Yezi, are you thinking about that again?” The woman seated next to him comforted him.

She was petite, with a doll-like face that gave her a cute appearance, but she was actually two years older than Ye Sheng Ke and had attended the same university as him. 

At this moment, her eyes displayed a gentle side inconsistent with her usual temperament. “Don’t blame yourself. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t mean to hurt him.”

Ye Sheng Ke forced a bitter smile. “Sister, you don’t have to comfort me. If it weren’t for me suggesting playing this game, he wouldn’t have…”

“Alright, now that we’re all here, can we say something auspicious?” Nie Yun Zhen interrupted their reminiscing. “We should be worried if any passersby come to this haunted place.”

The desolate scenery was terrifying enough to be a setting for a horror movie. Even if there were people, it was uncertain whether they were really human or not. But the mission was established, and they dared not disobey. Otherwise, it would be easier to grab two people randomly from the bustling city.

“Forget about whether there are passersby; even if there are, it’s challenging to invite them to play this game together, right? We need to figure out a solution,” Nie Yun Zhen said again.

After all, ordinary people weren’t foolish enough to play with this thing. They would only scare themselves. Perhaps they could only resort to some violent means. 

Speaking of this, Chu Xiu, who seldom spoke, spoke up. “Don’t worry about this problem.”

Nie Yun Zhen didn’t know Chu Xiu’s method, but since he was so confident, he must have some means. Nie nodded. “Then we’ll trouble Brother Chu later.”

The four sat quietly in the car, waiting for any passersby to come by.

**

“QingQing, it’s already so late. Do you really want to go over there at night? It’s very dangerous,” on the other side of the road, two girls carrying backpacks walked by. 

The taller girl looked at her friend’s backpack and expressed concern.

She also looked frightened.

“Alright, QianQian, you don’t have to persuade me. My grandmother already told me that ‘when a cat hangs from a tree, and a dog abandons the water, calamity will befall the whole family if I don’t bring Little Mimi here,’” Wen Qing (温青) replied.

“However, this place is terrifying. Can we come during the daylight tomorrow? It’s getting dark soon.”

Winter was approaching, and the sun had already set long ago. The sky was only lit by a faint warm light. Looking at Yin-Yang Road’s name and environment it was enough to scare even the most fearless of people.

Hearing her friend’s suggestion, Wen Qing hesitated. She clutched her book bag tightly and shook her head. “No, we have to go today. He said so.”

“Who is he? Did your grandma mention him?” Yun Qian (云茜) asked, but Wen Qing did not answer. She only tried to reassure her friend. “It’s okay. We’ve already made it here. We just need to find a tree quickly and hang it up.”

A faint sweet smell mixed with a bloody scent emanated from her bag, causing Yun Qian to turn her head away.

“All the trees here have lost their leaves. Where can we find a dense tree?” Yun Qian asked, looking around.

The road was lined with trees, but all the leaves had fallen off in the vast forest, leaving only twisted and bare branches.

“We’ll keep looking,” Wen Qing said, a little embarrassed. She held Yun Qian’s hand tightly. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you. We’ll go back soon.”

Unbeknownst to her friend, Wen Qing’s other hand clutched a talisman tightly in her pocket.

As it grew darker and darker, the two girls held hands tightly and strolled down the dark road, surrounded by the shadows of the trees.

Yun Qian wasn’t sure if it was just her imagination, but the sweet and cloying aroma in the air was becoming more assertive.

In the distance, they could see a faint light, which turned out to be a car with people inside chatting. Knowing they were not alone, the two girls felt a sense of relief and hastened their steps. Illuminated by the car’s headlights, they spotted a tree with leaves growing along the side of the road.

Yun Qian squeezed Wen Qing’s hand and cried, “We’ve found it!”

The two of them ran towards the tree, leaving the main road. Wen Qing gestured that she wasn’t tall enough to reach the tree’s lowest branch. She looked at Yun Qian, who was a bit taller and should be able to reach it.

“Yun Qian, I can’t reach it…” Wen Qing said, afraid.

Yun Qian shook her head nervously, “Don’t count on me; it took a lot of courage for me to come with you. I’m afraid I can’t do it.”

“Alright then.” Wen Qing turned around and put down her schoolbag, taking a plastic bag and a rope from it.

Inside the plastic bag was a lump of something about the size of two closed fists. Wen Qing carefully peeled off each layer of plastic covering the object inside.

As she moved, the sickly sweet scent grew even more pungent, causing Yun Qian to recoil and take a few steps back to breathe. However, Wen Qing remained oblivious, intent on peeling back layer after layer of plastic bags until she revealed… the grisly, blood-soaked corpse of a black cat!

Yun Qian was terrified and dared not look. “I’ll wait for you farther ahead,” she said hurriedly before making her way to the side of the road.

Undeterred, Wen Qing wept for her little cat.

This was her beloved Mimi. Why would she be afraid?

Clutching the little cat with both hands, Wen Qing realized she didn’t have time to deal with the rope. She suddenly became aware that her behaviour was inappropriate. She should have thrown the rope over first. What should she do now?

The little cat couldn’t touch the ground.

“QingQing, can you throw the rope over for me, please? It’s clean. I’ll tie Mimi to it,” said Wen Qing, lowering her head and cradling Mimi in her arms, paying no heed to the blood covering her hands. She raised her voice to call her friend.

To her surprise, a strange male voice came from behind her.

“Alright.”

“Ah—!” Wen Qing jumped at the sound and quickly turned around. She saw her friend standing not far behind her, fear etched on her face, yet too afraid to speak.

Yun Qian’s head was held at gunpoint.

Four people surrounded Yun Qian, including three men and one woman. The man who had just spoken was the closest to her, his face twisted with a sly grin.

“Who are you? What do you want?!” Wen Qing stepped back in fear, accidentally crushing a plastic bag, causing a slight rustling sound. Her mind was flooded with news about the rule of law, but it offered little comfort.

Unbeknownst to her, the dead cat she held also startled Nie Yun Zhen, standing nearby.

The four people exchanged a furtive glance. They all sensed this girl was strange, but they had no choice. These were the only two people around.

“Don’t worry, just play a game with us.” The woman among the four spoke, her voice laced with reassurance. “As long as you cooperate, we won’t harm you.”

Wen Qing was trembling from head to toe.

She knew what she should do: put the cat down and call the police. But she couldn’t just let Little Mimi fall to the ground.

“What…what game?” She had some ideas in mind that couldn’t be published in Jinjiang, but she couldn’t help but regret her rash behaviour.

If these men had ill intentions to do… what should she do?

What could she and Yun Qian do?

If things got out of hand, she would have to… set Little Mimi down.

But the group provided an answer that was completely unexpected and vastly different from Wen Qing’s imagination. “The Shadow Game?”

“That’s right. Have you understood the rules of the game?” the woman inquired softly, which sounded more sinister than comforting to Wen Qing and Yun Xian.

“I understand. Can you please release her first?” Wen Qing pleaded with them.

Chu Xiu lowered his gun that was pointed at Yun Xian’s head, nudged her gently, and she immediately ran towards her friend. However, she hesitated momentarily because of the dead black cat in her hand. She ended up standing beside her friend as a second choice.

“After midnight, once you’ve played the game, we’ll let you go,” Chu Xiu promised, hiding the gun so swiftly that nobody noticed where it went. He carefully examined the two girls, and his gaze lingered on Wen Qing’s face for a second longer.

Could she be an awakened NPC?

No, he needed to observe her further.

“You better keep your promise,” Wen Qing said tremblingly. Yet, she remained composed enough not to reveal any weakness, which surprised the group of four.

“By the way, what are you holding in your hand? Can you tell us?” Nie Yunzhen continued to smile while asking.

Wen Qing pursed her lips. “My cat, Little Mimi.”

“Why did you bring it here? What were you going to do under the tree just now?” The woman among the four continued to ask in a soft voice.

Her name was Shi Yan (时燕). Looking at the two girls leaning on each other, she saw herself and her former best friend, Axin.

Unfortunately, Axin…

Shi Yan’s eyes dimmed for a moment but quickly recovered.

There was still a long time until midnight, so they were in no rush. They needed to gather information first about these two peculiar girls and this eerie place. What secrets were hiding behind them?

Wen Qing had no choice but to take a deep breath and answer, “Little Mimi suddenly died, and I brought it here to bury it.”

“Bury it? But why do you want to hang it on the tree?” 

“That’s what my grandmother told me to do. She said…”

Meanwhile, in a secluded corner of an old residential area in the city, a handsome young man knocked on a door, cradling a black kitten in his arms.

“Excuse me, is this the Wen residence? I found the cat you posted a lost and found notice for.” The man smiled warmly and invitingly, “The little girl who lost the cat, her name is Wen Qing, right?”

An elderly woman opened the door and caught a glimpse of the kitten in the young man’s grasp. She nodded repeatedly and said, “Ah, yes, thank you, young man. By the way, how did you know my granddaughter’s name?”

After asking, the old woman slapped her forehead and said, “Oh, that little girl must have written her name on it too.”

The black kitten let out a gentle meow and jumped out of the young man’s arms, strolling into the house as if returning to its own home.

“Would you like to come in for a cup of tea, young man?” The old woman greeted him warmly, “By the way, what’s your name?”

The man smiled and replied, “No need to be so polite. My name is Lu Yan.” He glanced around the house casually, “Has your granddaughter not returned yet? I found her student ID card.”

Hearing this, the old woman became worried, “Not yet. I don’t know if she went to look for the cat after school again.”

Lu Yan handed over the student ID card and reassured her, “Don’t worry, she will return safely.”

With that, he left without heeding the old woman’s invitation, waving goodbye.

34 ☆ Called Shadow

Upon leaving the apartment, Lu Yan caught a whiff of the overpowering, sickly—sweet scent. Descending the stairs and stepping outside the residential building, he glanced back to find a black cat perched atop a balcony, peering down at him with green, deeply expressive eyes that betrayed a complex emotion uncommon for an animal. As the old saying goes, cats have nine lives… Lu Yan hesitated for a moment before pivoting on his heel and departing.

“Little Mimi, don’t climb up to the balcony,” a pair of elderly hands reached out from behind to scoop up the black cat. It meowed softly and snuggled up in the old woman’s embrace, revelling in the affectionate strokes.

“Why is my heart always pounding so fiercely? Where could QingQing be? Why hasn’t she come home this late?” The old woman murmured as she caressed the cat’s sleek fur.

The mounting sense of danger was causing her to feel increasingly agitated, and she hastily entered a small, enigmatic room.

This room was accessible to no one but her. Once, QingQing had ventured inside as a child and received a severe beating from the old woman. Since then, QingQing had learned her lesson and had never dared to set foot in the room again.

She regarded QingQing as her child and felt just as heartbroken as the girl when she cried. But she had already chosen this path and could not let the child follow in her footsteps!

Certain areas were forbidden for humans to touch…

The room was very cramped and incredibly dark, but it was immaculate, without a single speck of dust upon closer inspection. A small shrine was placed in the centre of the wall, upon which a horrifying idol was enshrined.

At first glance, it appeared nothing unusual, like a peaceful lady. But once one’s gaze met its eyes, a chill would emanate from the heart, as if… seeing something evil to the extreme. If it were not for the shrine, no one would consider it an idol, perhaps even mistaking it for a terrifying ghost.

As soon as the old woman entered the room, she knelt on the cushion and closed her eyes, whispering in a low voice, too scared to look. Unaware and too afraid to notice, the colour of the small statue turned increasingly crimson as she prayed.

Finally, when she finished praying, the old woman slowly stood up. By then, it was already very late at night, and with no light inside the room, the idol became increasingly blurry. Only the red colour became more and more prominent in the darkness.

With shaking hands, she picked up the incense box and matches placed beneath the shrine and rubbed the match head against the sandpaper side of the matchbox. A flame ignited, but strangely, it immediately went out.

“This… this is…” she stuttered.

Without hesitation, she lit another match. But to her astonishment, the flame flickered and died out as quickly as before.

“No, it can’t be…” The old woman’s forehead was beaded with sweat. Striking three matches at once, she finally succeeded in lighting the incense. She sighed deeply and promptly placed the three sticks into the censer on the shrine.

‘May QingQing be blessed… May she return home safely…’ However, in the blink of an eye, all three incense sticks snapped in half!

The eerie idol on the shrine contorted into a grotesque shape and turned a bright red. Its lips curled into an icy smile. Before the old woman could react, the room door slammed shut.

“No…”

**

“Since you are still students, contact your families. Give them any reason; just say you’ll return home late tonight. If you take this game seriously, we will send you back safely,” Nie Yun Zhen said to the two girls, leading them towards Yin—Yang Road.

Wen Qing’s cat dangled from a tree, swaying gently in the wind. Everyone retreated and stood at a safe distance from the tree.

In numerous legends, creatures like black cats and crows are said to be accompanied by ominous signs. There are even rumours that cats have nine lives and black cats bring bad luck. However, it doesn’t matter whether it’s a black or white cat for those who have been on long—term missions. It could bring bad luck as long as it dies abnormally, so they don’t hesitate to avoid it.

“Really?” Wen Qing hesitated to take the phone from Nie Yun Zhen, so Shi Yan took it and placed it in the girl’s hand.

She carefully opened the call interface.

“Of course, it’s true. But I advise you to be cautious with your words,” Shi Yan whispered. Her ability to come this far was due to her strength of character.

Wen Qing was intimidated by the hostility in her eyes and immediately nodded, “As long as you keep your promise.”

Only Chu Xiu found something strange about her words.

Her tone wasn’t entirely pleading but instead carried a hint of warning. It seemed like she was telling them that failing to send her back would result in dire consequences.

Why would she say that?

The others didn’t pay attention. After Wen Qing took the phone, she gave it to Yun Qian to inform her family. Under everyone’s watchful eyes, she had to turn on the speaker to put their minds at ease.

Yun Qian’s parents didn’t care about her, so they didn’t pay much attention when they heard that she was going to a classmate’s birthday party.

But when it was Wen Qing’s turn, there was a problem — no one answered the call.

In a matter of moments, Wen Qing’s complexion had turned pallid. She didn’t wait for anyone to speak and kept dialling the number repeatedly. Her hand trembled so violently, and her eyes were full of terror. Despite her attempts, the voice on the other end repeated the same message, “The user you’re calling is currently unavailable. Please try again later.”

How was this possible?

Wen Qing’s face went as white as a sheet, and she murmured, “No, I have to go back… I have to go back now! Let me go! I want to go back!”

Nie Yun Zhen and Ye Sheng Ke were nearby and instantly grabbed her. Wen Qing put up a fierce struggle. The two men thought they could easily hold her down. However, they were taken aback when they realized how much strength she possessed.

She yelled out, “Let me go back! I want to go back!”

With a resounding click, the safety was taken off the gun.

Chu Xiu raised his hand, and the muzzle was placed on her forehead.

Wen Qing froze, tears cascading down her face. Regardless of the two men’s attempts to restrain her, she knelt in one swift motion and pleaded, “Please, I want to go back… I must go back…”

“The game will end after midnight, and then you can leave.” Chu Xiu said in a cold voice.

The gun remained pointed at her forehead without a hint of mercy.

Just then, the phone that had fallen to the ground lit up. The ringing had stopped.

Wen Qing’s heart raced as she heard an old woman’s hoarse and cold voice, “Hello…”

Ignoring the gun aimed at her head, she rushed to answer, “Grandma! It’s me, QingQing.”

“Qing…Qing…” Each word was emphasized as if savoured by the old woman.

Wen Qing responded eagerly, her mind regaining rationality, “Grandma, I visiting Xiao Qian’s house today. Yun Qian is my friend, so I’ll return late. Please go to bed early.”

“…Qian…Qian… okay…” The old woman’s voice was rough and grating, like the sound of sandpaper, making Wen Qing feel uneasy but also relieved.

At least her grandmother was alright.

She hung up the phone and handed it back to Chu Xiu.

The surroundings grew even colder. The black cat hanging from the tree swayed gently.

“Three hours until midnight; let’s wait in the car,” Shi Yan suggested.

So, the six of them returned to the SUV. It was spacious enough for everyone to sit comfortably.

Wen Qing and Yun Qian sat in the back, tightly holding hands.

With a stranger among them, the four didn’t bring up the mission again and instead turned to talk about games. They could sense that Wen Qing was somewhat different from the other girl, so the other three intentionally tried to pry for information during their conversation.

Only Chu Xiu seemed to be doing nothing, sitting in the passenger seat. However, he was using the rearview mirror to observe everyone.

Everything seemed normal, without any anomalies.

As time passed, the outside grew darker and darker, with only two beams of headlights illuminating the road. Unconsciously, even the temperature dropped. Reluctantly, Nie Yun Zhen turned on the air conditioning, causing the fog to gradually blur the car windows. He then activated the wipers, watching as the two black wipers moved in a semi-circle.

Feeling bored, Yun Qian sighed against the window in the back seat before playfully writing a random word with her finger.

After finishing, she sighed again and heard Shi Yan call out to her. She quickly wiped away the fog with her hand and turned her head. “What? What’s wrong?”

But she didn’t catch sight of the fleeting pale face outside the window.

Finally, midnight arrived.

The car restarted and slowly drove forward until it stopped less than fifty meters from the intersection.

None of them noticed that the corpse of a black cat, which had been hanging from a tree and swaying in the wind, suddenly fell to the ground!

It was as if someone had cut the rope.

In the car, Nie Yun Zhen spoke, “Let’s first decide who goes first. Remember, every step of the game must be done correctly. Any mistake could lead to terrible consequences that nobody can bear.”

As soon as he finished his sentence, the temperature in the car dropped even further, and a feeling of indescribable horror spread among everyone.

Unexpectedly, Yun Qian, the timidest of them all, said weakly, “I’ll go first. Qing Qing and I will go first, and then you guys make sure we leave quickly.”

Nie Yun Zhen saw that Chu Xiu had no objections, so he nodded in agreement. Wen Qing insisted on accompanying Yun Qian and didn’t want to wait in the car. She got out and stood by the car window, watching as Yun Qian trembled and took one step at a time.

The air grew colder, and her legs shook. She didn’t know why she was the first to agree.

‘Never mind, whether you stick your neck out or keep it in is all the same. The sooner it’s done, the better.’ 

‘Nothing will happen… nothing will happen…’ Yun Qian silently repeated these words, slowly walking forward while stepping on her shadow.

Speaking of which, the weather tonight wasn’t suitable for playing this game. There was no moon, and only a few stars were visible. The road had no streetlights, and once the trees cast shadows, you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face. If it weren’t for the car headlights, you wouldn’t even see a hint of a shadow.

When she was seven or eight meters from the crossroads, Yun Qian forced herself to endure the fear in her heart and whispered her name according to the rules they had told her.

“Yun Qian,” she stepped forward, treading on her shadow.

“Yun Qian,” she took another step.

“Yun Qian,” one more step.

She counted to thirteen as she took each step. She became like a startled bird when she arrived at the thirteenth step. Every muscle in her body tensed with fear. She didn’t dare to look at her shadow on the ground to see if anything had changed. If she could, she would have fled back to the car immediately, but she couldn’t.

Those people had threatened her with Qing Qing.

She had to complete the steps.

Yun Qian didn’t dare utter a sound. She stood stiffly in place, slowly lowering her head.

Looking down at the ground, her whole body felt like it had been plunged into an icehouse. Her hands and feet became cold instantly.

Her… her shadow had become two!

There was another shadow. Whose was it?

Whose?!

Her breath became rapid, but she remembered the instructions from those people.

Under no circumstances should she make a sound. She had to listen to what the other person would say.

Suddenly, a hoarse voice sounded in her ear. It was impossible to distinguish whether it belonged to a man or a woman, young or old. At the same time, an icy breath came from behind her, as if… that thing was pressing against her back!

“Find… for me…” the voice trailed off.

Find what?

She remained frozen in place.

She would have noticed a pale figure pressed tightly against her back if she had turned her head.

The voice trailed off, “Find…find my…” Despite her efforts, Yun Qian couldn’t hear clearly. She didn’t dare ask any questions.

After those two sentences were spoken, the cold sensation behind her suddenly disappeared, and the shadow on the ground returned to its original form.

Yun Qian couldn’t resist any more and ran. She covered her mouth while sprinting back. She remembered not to utter a sound; otherwise, that thing would bring her unbearable consequences.

“What happened in the end?” Wen Qing embraced her, feeling her shivering in her arms. 

She shook her head, too afraid to speak. Looking at Yun Qian, they all knew she must have encountered something paranormal. This outcome left everyone feeling uneasy.

“Let’s get in the car first.” Sitting in the middle, Shi Yan opened the car door and carefully helped Yun Qian get in. Wen Qing held her. They didn’t notice that the colour of the shadow under Yun Qian’s feet had slightly darkened. “Yun Qian, what did you see just now?” Shi Yan inquired.

Wen Qing and Shi Yan’s attempts to extract information proved fruitless. Yun Qian could only shake her head vigorously, tears streaming down her face, and when she tried to speak, no sound came out.

Her intense fear and psychological pressure left her unable to communicate!

“Hey, you…” Ye Sheng Ke began to speak, but his words were cut short when Yun Qian suddenly fainted.

Nie Yun Zhen rolled down the car window. A blast of cold air rushed in, clearing his restless mind. “Brother Chu, what should we do now? Should we still continue?”

“Of course, we should.” Chu Xiu hadn’t spoken yet, but Shi Yan spoke up, turning to Wen Qing and saying, “It’s your turn now.”

Wen Qing pursed her lips and nodded. “Don’t touch her.”

“As long as you take this seriously, we won’t harm her.”

Wen Qing carefully grasped Yun Qian’s cold hand and retrieved the amulet she had lent her.

She began to walk slowly forward, one step at a time.

The temperature outside the car had dropped even further, almost as cold as midwinter. Wen Qing wrapped her school uniform tightly around herself and approached where Yun Qian had just been.

“Wen Qing, Wen Qing, Wen Qing…”

She recited her name with each step, stepping on her own shadow. When she reached the thirteenth step, Wen Qing faintly heard a cat meow.

35 ☆ So, She Was Already Dead

Meowing?

When she heard a faint meowing sound, Wen Qing’s heart was filled with doubt and uncertainty. She listened closely but couldn’t hear it anymore. She wondered if it was her imagination.

Despite her doubts, Wen Qing wanted to believe it wasn’t just her imagination. The meowing was familiar, just like the sound of her own little cat. She thought that while cats and dogs may look similar to most people, only pet owners can distinguish their pets.

Could it be her little cat?

Did she manage to call back her pet?

Wen Qing felt a rush of excitement and joy but remembered the warning from those people earlier. She had to be quiet, as making noise could have unforeseeable consequences. With great effort, she suppressed her excitement and took a few more steps forward, hoping to hear what the little cat might demand.

Unfortunately, the cat didn’t make any demands. The cool breeze was still, and there was no more meowing as if everything that had just happened was her imagination.

Doubts filled her mind, but Wen Qing refused to believe it was just her imagination. She tightly clutched the talisman and crouched down, placing it on the ground before continuing to walk. With each step, she whispered her name, but her thoughts were focused on another name as if it would bring back her little cat.

“Wen Qing.” Little Mimi…

“Wen Qing.” Come out, Little Mimi.

…

“Is she crazy? What’s she doing?” Nie Yun Zhen exclaimed from afar, watching Wen Qing crouch down before continuing to walk.

“Something’s off about her,” Ye Sheng Ke remarked, frowning. “Senior, have you noticed anything?”

Despite Yun Qian’s unconsciousness, they spoke in hushed tones, using lip reading to communicate.

Shi Yan shook her head, unsure of what was happening.

All eyes turned to Chu Xiu, but he had no desire to explain. He gazed ahead quietly into the darkness, his thoughts unknown.

Unnoticed by everyone, Yun Qian, who lay at the back, sat up silently. Her lifeless eyes fixated on the four people ahead of her. Her lips curled into a strange smile that grew wider and wider until it almost reached her ears.

However, the four people ahead were entirely unaware of Yun Qian. They didn’t see her sit up in the rearview mirror because her reflection was just an illusion.

“She took another thirteen steps,” Nie Yun Zhen incredulously said.

A pair of soft, pale hands gradually stretched forward, about to wrap around Ye Sheng Ke’s neck. Just then, Shi Yan suddenly turned around, and the hands quickly retracted. Yun Qian lay there quietly unconscious, her eyes still wet with tears of fear.

“When will she wake up? Should we ask her to call Wen Qing back?” Nie Yun Zhen suggested.

“It’s best not to,” Chu Xiu replied unexpectedly.

Based on what had happened earlier with Yun Qian playing the game, it was inevitable that she must have encountered some supernatural event. Perhaps she was already being pursued by those things. The reason why they let Yun Qian board the car was that they needed her to coerce Wen Qing to continue playing the game. Otherwise, they should just drop the two girls off and run for safety.

Fortunately, Wen Qing’s abnormality was short-lived. The four of them observed her intently as she went beyond the designated area for a few dozen steps before turning back. However, she crouched down at some point as if tying her shoelaces.

Chu Xiu had a clear view and saw that she was tying her shoelaces as a cover, picking up something from the ground and stuffing it into her shoe.

What did she pick up?

Wen Qing approached and opened the car door. Despite her somewhat pale face, she remained composed. Her mental strength surpassed some taskers, which impressed Ye Sheng Ke.

Shi Yan asked, “Did you encounter anything abnormal earlier?”

Wen Qing shook her head, looking concernedly at her still-unconscious friend.

Both NPCs had already played the “game”. Their earlier experiences suggest that Yun Qian encountered a supernatural event first, allowing Wen Qing to emerge unscathed. This hypothesis undoubtedly boosted their confidence.

“In that case, let’s have little Ye go next,” Shi Yan suggested. 

Hearing this, Ye Sheng Ke looked at her senior sister gratefully. “Thank you, senior sister…”

Chu Xiu seemed to intend to be the last to play the game. She had no intention of competing with Xiao Ye. As long as she proposed it before Nie Yun Zhen, he wouldn’t object.

Indeed, Chu Xiu didn’t object, and although Nie Yun Zhen’s face darkened for a moment, he ultimately agreed.

Ye Sheng Ke quietly grasped Shi Yan’s hand, feeling grateful in his heart. Without hesitation, he opened the car door and stepped out. The car’s headlights illuminated the road ahead, casting a long shadow of himself.

In a few moments, he would be stepping on his own shadow, reciting his name step by step.

Ye Sheng Ke’s courage, which had just gathered, suddenly dissipated at the thought. He looked down at his shadow and couldn’t help but recall his own experience ——

“Little Ye, promise me you’ll wait for me, okay?” His best friend had said.

That day, they went to a small alley near the school. There were many such alleys near the university town. Some were occupied by small vendors and had become food streets, while others were intentionally or unintentionally ignored by people and had no visitors.

They naturally went to the latter, which took them a long time to find. It was said that a girl had been brutally murdered by a villain here. It had been sealed for a long time, and even during the day, visiting it always gave a creepy feeling. Gradually, fewer people visited it.

His best friend had heard the ghostly rumours and was so frightened that he repeatedly asked Ye Sheng Ke to wait for him.

‘What did I say back then?’ Ye Sheng Ke thought.

“Don’t worry, we’re brothers. I’ll be waiting for you at the entrance of the alley.” Ye Sheng Ke reassured his friend, “Besides, there are no such things as ghosts in this world. Don’t scare yourself.”

“Okay, okay. Remember to record everything clearly. I’m going to show it to our senior sister.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll capture your bravery and handsomeness on camera. Once it’s out, no one will ever call you a coward again.”

“Okay! I’m going!”

Without hesitation, he exited the car and started walking forward, step by step.

Just like now, he heard faint footsteps and knew he was trembling, just like him. Despite the fear, he kept moving forward.

“Ye Sheng Ke,” his voice echoed in the darkness. “Ye Sheng Ke.”

Back then, he crouched at the alley entrance, with the camera in night mode aimed at his good friend. He didn’t believe in this kind of thing, and his legs became numb after squatting for a long time. He changed his position, causing the camera to shake slightly. He lowered his head to kill a mosquito before looking back at the camera.

One unforgettable scene played out before him. His good friend took one step after another, muttering to himself and halting after each step. But in the camera’s view, a figure draped in a long white dress with flowing locks sat on his friend’s shoulder.

Ye Sheng Ke was paralyzed with shock. His blood seemed to be flowing in reverse. Finally, his friend took thirteen steps and turned around to run excitedly toward him.

“Little Ye! I did it! Did you catch it on camera?”

As his friend turned around, the girl on his shoulders also turned her head. Her black hair parted, revealing a section of pale skin. Her hands looked abnormal, dangling bonelessly from her shoulders and wrapping around the man’s neck several times like a white scarf.

As if she sensed someone taking her picture, the woman raised her head. Ye Sheng Ke could clearly see the sly, twisted grin on her lips.

“Little Ye?”

Ye Sheng Ke’s breathing grew ragged. His entire body felt ice-cold. He looked at his friend, who was still calling out to him while running and seeming confused. 

Without any hesitation, he dropped the camera and ran away.

“Little Ye? Little Ye, why are you running? Wait for me, Little Ye…”

Before long, he fled the eerie place and arrived in a bustling downtown area. His hands continued to tremble, and he remained engulfed in fear and anxiety.

It was a ghost… there really was a ghost!

He was as nervous as a bird startled by the twang of a bowstring, seeing everyone as abnormal. He didn’t dare to return to the dormitory in the middle of the night, afraid that ghosts might come knocking. He couldn’t stay with anyone else, fearing they might be disguised ghosts. He wandered aimlessly, not knowing where he was going. He felt relieved only when the sun rose the next day, and he immediately returned to school.

However, when he returned to school, he realized that his good friend hadn’t returned the previous night. No matter who called him, he didn’t answer. He had an important experiment the next day, and if his friend didn’t show up, he would surely fail the course.

Being responsible, the class monitor rushed into the lab after asking him to help spread the word, leaving Ye Sheng Ke feeling cold.

He wanted to tell everyone about the game and suspected his friend had met with an accident, but he didn’t dare speak up. Like an ostrich, he could only comfort himself, telling himself that everything was fine and his friend must be okay.

However, his friend had been missing for several days — a good student with perfect attendance — had disappeared.

Later, the police found his and his family’s bodies, covered in blood, arranged neatly in the room. No one knew the cause of their deaths. Even more surprising was that someone had seen him near the university city that same night, but the autopsy showed that he had died in the early hours of the next day. Looking at his expenditure records, he had not purchased any travel tickets.

No one knew how he had suddenly appeared at home, thousands of miles away, in just a few hours.

Only Ye Sheng Ke knew what had happened; it would be his eternal demon.

“Ye Sheng Ke,” a voice echoed for the last time.

The thirteenth step had arrived, and Ye Sheng Ke paused, gazing down at his shadow. A second shadow joined his, revealing the silhouette of a woman. Her hair flowed down her back, swaying with a delicate flutter.

Was she perched on his shoulder now?

As the tension mounted, Ye Sheng Ke instead calmed down and turned towards the car, striding confidently forward.

“Um… Are you alright?” Shi Yan’s voice called out from the car, the window rolling down as she looked at him through the glass. Though his face remained somewhat pale, Ye Sheng Ke’s relaxed smile put her at ease.

“I’m fine; no harm done.” He slipped into the car, trying his best to appear nonchalant. Guilt gnawed at him, but he could not bring himself to reveal the truth.

The group had further convinced themselves that the strange presence had been attracted by Yun Xuan.

The next task fell to Nie Yun Zhen, who quickly and efficiently completed it with a smile of relief.

Shi Yan followed suit, smoothly returning to the car with ease.

The last person was none other than Chu Xiu.

Stepping out of the car, Chu Xiu approached the crossroads with measured steps.

Inside the vehicle, Wen Qing scrutinized his back, her eyebrows furrowed.

Once he returned, the four of them would escort Wen Qing and Xiao Lan back.

Thinking of this, Wen Qing grasped Yun Qian’s hand, seeking encouragement.

Unbeknownst to her, pale, boneless arms were inching towards her ankles but abruptly recoiled as if hitting an unseen barrier.

**

In the dead of night, Lu Yan sat by the window in his solitary hotel room, gazing outside.

The sky was devoid of stars and moon, shrouded in darkness, but neon lights beyond flickered incessantly, leaving the city restless.

Only during moments like this could he truly appreciate normalcy at night.

If not for the occasional visits from taskers, he might have been consumed by the madness and transformed into the same substance as them.

However, this tranquillity was short-lived. Those entities… whether or not he sought them out, they would come knocking, launching preemptive attacks. Only by fighting back could he gain an escape.

Lu Yan watched for a while before settling back at his computer desk. His memory served him well; he could still recall every mission he had undertaken and every tasker he had encountered in the past few years.

He was in the process of searching for information.

In the past, many of his missions were completed with ambiguous outcomes. Even if they were considered successful, many secrets lurked beneath the surface. The world he experienced during and after completing each mission was vastly different. This meant that even if he searched the internet, the information he found at other times would be completely different.

On the computer screen, a promotional video for Red River Village played.

On that day, the region around Red River Village had been reduced to a wasteland, with graveyards covering the mountains and a river of blood flowing across all burial mounds. But now, Red River Village appeared the same as when he first laid eyes on it: pristine and orderly. Even the red river, as depicted in the promotional video, was an elegant shade of crimson.

Everything appeared to be so ordinary.

However, before the world had become “normal,” when he opened a webpage, he saw a ghost village!

Lu Yan’s gaze settled on the familiar face of the village chief and…He Lou, Shen Na, Zhao Chuan, and the others who had wholly integrated into the village were now assisting the chief. They all seemed content and satisfied.

A hint of mockery flashed across Lu Yan’s eyes.

Should he choose illusory beauty or cruel reality?

He would rather confront the brutal truth alone, struggling on the brink of life and death, than live in blissful ignorance.

After gathering more intelligence about the Omniscient Divine Sect, Lu Yan retired to bed to rest.

Drawing on his past experiences, he knew that even if he refrained from approaching them, these people would somehow end up pulling him in.

**

An SUV pulled up slowly in the hotel’s parking lot.

Four individuals alighted from the vehicle — Chu Xiu, Nie Yun Zhen, Shi Yan, and Ye Sheng Ke.

Although they had earlier agreed to accompany Wen Qing and Yun Qian back, they couldn’t risk their lives, especially since Yun Qian was believed to be a target of supernatural entities. Hence, they left Wen Qing and the still unconscious Yun Qian at the intersection.

As they entered the hotel’s lobby, the four reserved four single rooms on the thirteenth floor. Interestingly, to the staff’s surprise, they opted for the stairs over the elevator.

People accustomed to missions of this nature would often train rigorously to stay alive. Hence, the thirteenth floor posed no difficulty for them. Taking the elevator was deemed a more significant danger. In places known as hotspots for supernatural occurrences, if a ghost suddenly appeared in the confined space of the elevator, they would have no chance of escaping. Consequently, they developed a habit of taking the stairs when on missions.

“Today’s game was relatively safe, but what about tomorrow? Everyone still remembers tomorrow’s game, right?” Nie Yun Zhen remarked.

Shi Yan nodded in agreement and said, “Yes, let’s not forget to grab a few apples and a fruit knife. We can carry out our plan in the hotel.”

Ye Sheng Ke looked up calmly and asked, “So, who should we invite to join us this time? We only need one more person.”

Nie Yun Zhen smiled mischievously and teased, “Do you guys still remember our room numbers?”

At that moment, everyone knew exactly what he meant.

Initially, they planned to book adjacent rooms, but unfortunately, a guest had already checked into the single room in the middle. So, they didn’t need to think too hard about who the new player would be.

They laughed heartily and went their separate ways to their rooms.

Chu Xiu walked at the back, his gaze fixed on the three in front of him, his expression deep and inscrutable. He couldn’t believe these three had nothing to do with what was happening. Could ghosts really be that benevolent?

The other three probably shared his suspicions, so they talked but kept a distance from each other, ready to bolt at any moment.

As they reached the thirteenth floor, they noticed that the hotel had scrambled the room numbers for privacy and safety reasons. They followed the signs to their respective rooms and found that their keys were for adjacent rooms.

Chu Xiu’s thoughts meandered as he passed the door, ‘The middle room…’

**

They were on the outskirts, travelling down a desolate road. This area was already scarcely populated, with taxis unwilling to venture here. Earlier in the day, Wen Qing and Yun Qian took a bus to a nearby stop before walking one or two kilometres to reach their destination.

But now, the four mysterious individuals had left them stranded, with no streetlights to illuminate their path. The stars and moon were obscured behind thick clouds, enveloping everything in darkness. 

Even Wen Qing, who was known for her bravery, couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease.

If only Yun Qian had been conscious, then Wen Qing could take her hand and leave together. However, Yun Qian remained in a state of unconsciousness, leaving Wen Qing feeling helpless. Carrying her was not an option; dragging her would only risk injury, so Wen Qing settled for half-carrying and half—supporting her as they made their way to the roadside.

The only glimmer of hope provided by the four was the gift of two sleeping bags.

Wen Qing laboured to cover Yun Qian with one of the sleeping bags before crawling into the other. Lying on the hard ground was uncomfortable, so she leaned against a nearby tree, eventually dozing off into a restless slumber.

**

Meanwhile, in the city’s heart, a couple lay fast asleep, a family photo of three positioned atop their bedside table.

Frozen in time, the image of a young Yun Qian smiled back at them from within the frame.

The lady rose from her slumber and headed to the bathroom, rubbing her groggy eyes. After finishing her business, she tried to open the bathroom door, but to her surprise, it wouldn’t budge.

“What the heck?” She gripped the doorknob and twisted it left and right, but the door remained eerily still. She pounded on the door and called out for her husband.

Bang, bang, bang! She pounded with even more force.

“Hello? Is anyone out there?”

Little did she know, her voice wasn’t carrying beyond the bathroom, and her husband couldn’t hear her. She continued banging and yelling for her husband to wake up.

“Hurry up! Don’t sleep!” Her knocks grew louder, her frustration building. As she turned her head, she caught her reflection in the mirror and was immediately filled with fear.

She was pounding on the door, but her reflection in the mirror was facing her head on!

The woman in the mirror smiled at her. The harsh lighting made her face look deathly pale. 

Confused, she bent down to turn on the faucet and splash water on her face, only to discover that the liquid flowing from the tap wasn’t water, but instead, it was a thick stream of fresh blood. Suddenly, the room was filled with an overpowering stench of blood.

The blood washed away pieces of flesh as they fell off the woman’s face. In the mirror, the woman smiled at the terrified woman outside and slowly extended her hands.

The woman’s limp, boneless, pallid arms wrapped around the victim’s neck.

“Help… me…” The plea for help was stifled and unheard.

The restroom had three compartments: the sink on the outer side, the toilet in the middle, and a curtain and barrier concealing the bathtub.

Unbeknownst to her, the man’s mangled body was soaked in a large amount of blood in the bathtub. As she turned on the faucet to wash her face, the blood drained out of the bathtub and through the pipe, slowly causing the blood level in the bathtub to drop.

“Meow——”

Half awake, Wen Qing heard a mournful and piercing meow that was not her usual little cat’s cry, as if driving away something.

It was Little Mimi!

Wen Qing, who was still somewhat tired, immediately opened her eyes.

Wrapped in a sleeping bag, she stared ahead blankly.

In the thick, ink-like darkness, a darker shadow approached her. Its eyes emitted a flickering green light, and at first glance, it appeared to be two floating will-o’-the-wisps!

“Little Mimi?” Wen Qing was jolted from her sleep, scrambling out of her warm sleeping bag. The frigid wind whipped against her, but she didn’t care as she dashed towards the sound. “Is it really you, Little Mimi? You came to visit me and remember me, don’t you?”

Rushing up to the source of the voice, she squatted down, suddenly remembering something. With a careful hand, she removed an amulet hidden inside her shoe, then carefully picked up the small, black, fluffy ball.

Like old times, Little Mimi nuzzled her palm, its fur soft and comforting.

“I miss you so much. I’m glad you came to see me. I’ll never forget you,” Wen Qing whispered.

No matter how much she missed Little Mimi, she knew it was gone forever.

Even though her grandmother often muttered about cats having nine lives, it was just a myth. How could it be true?

What Wen Qing didn’t notice was that Yun Qian was slowly awakening behind her. Although she lay motionless on the ground, two pale, soft hands emerged from her shoulders and were about to strike!

Wen Qing hugged Little Mimi tightly and turned to leave, fighting back the tears.

Little Mimi hated baths and never appreciated getting its fur wet.

Even if…even if it was a ghost, Wen Qing hoped to see Little Mimi again and keep it company.

Unbeknownst to her, as soon as she turned around, the little cat in her hands rolled over and leapt down to the ground, standing with its tail raised high.

Despite the dark night, Wen Qing could discern that the fur on the cat’s body was bristling and emitted a near—beastly growl from its throat.

Familiar with its behaviour, Wen Qing knew this was a sign of an imminent attack.

And the object of its growling was none other than Yun Qian!

“Little Mimi, no! She’s our friend, remembers?” Wen Qing quickly crouched down, trying to scoop up the cat. But Little Mimi was unwilling to cooperate and nimbly evaded her grasp. Then, with lightning—quick movements, it lunged towards Yun Qian, who was still lying on the ground.

“Don’t——”

Wen Qing shouted loudly and rushed to tightly embrace Little Mimi, disregarding its struggles and keeping it at bay.

At that moment, Little Mimi bore no resemblance to the charming feline it once was. Its sharp fangs jutted out of its mouth, and its nails grew instantly longer, razor—sharp, dripping with a noxious and sweet fluid. The supple fur on its body had become coarse and rigid, its body cold and stiff.

“Little Mimi?!”

Wen Qing was so terrified that she immediately flung the cat from her grasp.

That wasn’t her beloved Little Mimi.

“It… Has it really turned into a ghost?” she gasped. “Oh no! Yun Qian is in danger!”

Just then, Yun Qian slowly stirred awake. Wen Qing rushed over and swiftly positioned herself in front of Yun Qian, her hands outstretched to block any harm from the Little Mimi. She stared firmly at the creature that had already transformed into a monster, her eyes filled with unwavering determination.

“Qian Qian, come on, let’s run!” Wen Qing’s legs trembled, but she still clung to the hope that Little Mimi might recognize her. She stood her ground.

Yun Qian was unaware of what had happened but was stunned at the ghastly sight before her. She quickly emerged from her sleeping bag, grabbed Wen Qing’s hand, and started running.

“Run! Quickly, let’s escape!” Yun Qian shouted.

“It has turned into a monster!” Wen Qing added urgently, firmly clutching Yun Qian’s hand and pushing herself to her fastest pace. Soon, they left Little Mimi far behind and vanished.

As their footsteps slowed, Wen Qing panted and said, “Okay, now we’re safe…” But she felt a sudden shortness of breath before she could finish her sentence.

A pallid hand, devoid of blood, grasped her neck, hoisting her into the air. The hand belonged to none other than Yun Qian.

Her body twisted unnaturally as she rose to her feet, accompanied by strange and eerie cracking sounds. She grew taller and taller, almost blending in with the towering trees nearby. Her face, ashen and ghastly, was obscured by long, tangled black hair.

She fixed her gaze on Wen Qing, who struggled in vain. Fresh blood trickled down Yun Qian’s pallid face, emanating a nauseating stench.

At last, Yun Qian remembered… she had been dead for a long time.

When she played “Shadow”, she had actually called back her soul; she meant to say, “Find my… body.”

Yun Qian, who had remembered everything, had turned into a vengeful ghost and wanted to kill everyone around her! The first person she wanted to kill was Wen Qing, who was closest to her! But Wen Qing had a protective talisman, so she could not harm her. So, Yun Qian was forced to kill her own parents instead.

And now, with Wen Qing having voluntarily discarded her talisman, which had been her safeguard, Yun Qian was poised to take her revenge and kill her closest friend!

36 ☆ Dropping the lift on the 18th floor

As death approached, Wen Qing’s body stiffened in fear. She closed her eyes, scared to look at the terrifying face before her.

But the next second, she was hurled to the ground.

Despite the excruciating pain that coursed through her body, she was alive. Meanwhile, Little Mimi’s piercing and shrill screams echoed in the distance, sending chills down her spine.

Wen Qing opened her eyes and saw a monstrous creature: a giant black cat, now transformed before her eyes, howling as it fought fiercely with a huge female ghost. The ghost’s skeletal frame was visible, and pieces of rotting flesh occasionally fell to the ground.

It should have been a horrifying sight, but she felt incredibly relieved at that moment.

“Little Mimi, thank you…”

Wen Qing scrambled away from the commotion and suddenly remembered the talisman her grandmother had given her for protection. She quickly ran back to the spot where she had dropped it earlier.

“Little Mimi, don’t be afraid; I’ll return to help you…”

The female ghost had carried Wen Qing far away, and now she had no idea where she was in the pitch—black forest. She could not find any sign of the road’s direction.

What could she do?

What could she do?!

Despite Wen Qing’s usual composed demeanour, she was just an ordinary high school girl. The death of her friend had dealt her a significant blow, and now her mind was consumed with the urgent need to rescue her cat. Earlier, during the life—and—death situation, she had been able to remain composed, but now, as she ran through the pitch—black forest, unable to see more than a few inches in front of her hand, she couldn’t help feeling disoriented. She had been running for what felt like an eternity, but she still hadn’t found the road.

Wen Qing’s thoughts were in disarray. “What should I do?” she asked herself.

After running for a long time, Wen Qing finally stopped and leaned against a tree, where she broke down in tears. It was then that she caught a whiff of a sickly sweet smell, the stench of a dead cat’s decaying body.

In shock, Wen Qing lowered her head and saw the tiny, black cat’s corpse lying on the ground. Its limbs were still tied up with the rope she had used to bind it.

“What’s going on?” she asked herself.

Little Mimi was here, but the cat that had transformed into a monstrous creature was also Little Mimi. Wen Qing was absolutely sure of it.

As the day slowly brightened, the sun rising rapidly to light up half the sky, Wen Qing searched around and discovered that she had been circling the road all along. The protective talisman had fallen to the ground not far from the dead cat’s body.

Wen Qing had spent the entire night without rest, constantly running around. Her body was in a terrible state as she approached to pick up the protective talisman. She gazed towards the crossroads, her heart heavy with grief.

“Yun Qian…she’s dead. She’s turned into a vengeful ghost.”

“If those people hadn’t coerced her into playing that game, and if they hadn’t abandoned her…Yun Qian would still be alive.”

“If I hadn’t brought Yun Qian here, she wouldn’t have died.”

A surge of intense hatred welled up in her heart as she gazed towards the direction where the car had left last night, her eyes filled with a bitterness she had never felt before.

She couldn’t forgive herself, but those four people deserved to die even more!

“I will never, never forgive them!” she thought.

As the day began to break, the howling ceased. Wen Qing limped back to the road and hung the cat back up on the tree before hobbling back home to her grandmother, who was eagerly waiting for her. She boarded the bus, feeling unsteady.

**

The small room was dimly lit, and the idol was a deep shade of red.

The old woman’s body lay on the ground, bloody and mangled. It appeared shrivelled and bony, resembling a skeleton. Suddenly, it began to inflate like a balloon, and within a short time, it had reverted to its original human shape.

As it opened its eyes, an eerie smile spread across its face as it rose from the ground. It meticulously adjusted its facial features, gradually revealing a benevolent smile identical to its original appearance.

The idol on the shrine had shattered into numerous pieces, utterly devoid of its former shine and glory.

**

“This game is really creepy. You must lock yourself alone in a room after midnight and peel an apple while staring at a mirror. If the peel breaks, the task is considered a failure,” Nie Yun Zhen explained while he continued to peel an apple.

This game was well—known, and the tasks they were required to complete were supernatural games that actually existed in legends and could attract ghosts.

Nie Yun Zhen had watched some videos uploaded by up—and—coming content creators before, but after watching too many, he made a terrifying discovery — without exception, all the content creators had omitted some steps during the game.

However, they couldn’t afford to skip even a single step if they were to complete the task. Otherwise, they would undoubtedly face an unbearable fate.

Neither Nie Yun Zhen nor Ye Sheng Ke were proficient at peeling apples, let alone peeling them without breaking the skin. They had gone out early in the morning and bought three boxes to practice.

“Next door, the person hasn’t left the house,” Shi Yan said as she gazed at the computer screen, but the man’s figure did not appear.

When they went to buy apples, Shi Yan disguised herself as a hotel staff member and entered the room with a small gift, claiming it was a prize. While there, she installed a few gadgets to aid their surveillance. However, due to the other party’s strong vigilance, she could only place the miniature camera at the entrance. Although the camera had a limited angle and couldn’t capture the entire room, it was enough to detect any movement in or out of the room.

**

Inside the room, Lu Yan gave the entrance a cold gaze. He knew he was likely being monitored by one of the task takers. But he had no idea what their mission was or how many people were involved. He wondered whether he could survive this.

With a few clicks of his computer, Lu Yan pulled up all the surveillance footage inside the hotel. He scrutinized the elevator footage, and his pupils contracted in surprise. It wasn’t that there were only four people in the footage, but a woman in a white dress sitting on one man’s shoulder!

Actually, it should be said that a female ghost in a white dress was perched on his shoulder. Due to the height restriction of the elevator, the spirit had to twist her body at a strange angle, with her pale, long arms tightly wrapped around the man’s neck.

After calculating the time, Lu Yan wondered if they had really been tormented by a female ghost in just one day.

Seeing that they seemed oblivious, Lu Yan had no intention of reminding them. He identified the man’s appearance through the surveillance camera and decided to avoid him later.

Aside from the female ghost, the surveillance footage showed that the other three people subtly differentiated themselves. The tallest man, sporting a leather jacket, led the group, though he remained taciturn.

As Lu Yan hacked into the hotel’s system to check the surveillance, the manager bowed and apologized to a man.

“I’m terribly sorry, Mr Wen. We’ll immediately retrieve your belongings through the surveillance footage. Please don’t involve the police yet. You can trust us…”

“Do I trust you? Will it help to trust you? Do you even realize the value of that thing? Do you know how many people want it? It’s only been a day, and it’s gone. Ha—ha, let me tell you, if you can’t find it, we’ll all die together!” Mr Wen shouted in anger.

“I’m really sorry. We’ll do everything we can to retrieve it…”

“Don’t make promises to me. Check the surveillance now. I’m telling you, if you can’t find it today, we’ll all die together!”

Mr Wen couldn’t calm down. His agitation didn’t seem to stem from losing a priceless treasure but rather from fear and anxiety. Judging from his expression, no one would doubt that his words about everyone dying together were false.

“Absolutely, the control room is right here. Would you like to come along?” the lobby manager asked.

“Hurry, take me there. Quick!” Mr Wen demanded.

They arrived at the control room in no time, but it was empty. The lobby manager seethed with frustration. Someone must have gone somewhere without informing anyone.

Mr Wen’s cold gaze made the manager nervous, and he hastily retrieved the list of customers who checked in from last night until today, trying to calm himself down.

“Yesterday, seven new guests checked in. Three of them are a family staying in a double room on the third floor. The other four checked in together, but each booked a single room.”

As the manager spoke, he noticed Mr Wen’s eyes widen in disbelief. He pointed at the screen, his fingers shaking as he asked, “What is this?”

The manager turned around to see the footage and was immediately petrified. A woman in a white dress was sitting on the man’s shoulder!

“It’s a ghost…a ghost!” the manager exclaimed in horror.

Suddenly, the split—screen zoomed in, taking up the entire screen as if someone was manipulating it. The ghostly woman on the man’s shoulder twisted her body and slowly lifted her head, making eye contact with the terrified men outside the screen.

The woman’s hands, wrapped around the man’s neck, immediately loosened and released in circles. Her abnormally long, soft and pale arms hung down. They were so long that they could hardly be contained by the entire picture frame.

Almost instantly, her hands wiped like two wip and penetrated through the screen and gripped the necks of the two men. With a powerful yank, the sound of bones cracking filled the air.

Everything happened so quickly that the men had no time to react. They were pulled into the screen and sat motionless in the elevator’s corner. Blood poured from the broken neck area and quickly filled the elevator.

The monitor screen returned to its densely gridded appearance, and the elevator grid disappeared without a trace. It appeared normal to anyone who looked at it.

“Phew, that was close. Thank goodness no one came to check. If the manager had seen it, I would have lost my monthly bonus again,” thought Security Guard Xiao Li, who had gone to the toilet and returned to an empty room. “Just now, a guest even offered to peel me an apple, hehe…”

As he sat in front of the monitor, watching the screen, he felt his eyelids growing heavy. Before he knew it, he had dozed off in the monitoring room.

Black hair fell thickly from the ceiling, almost touching the man’s neck when suddenly a figure walked in from the door. It was the same guest who had offered him an apple earlier.

The guest opened the door and found the security guard slumped over the table.

“The sleeping pill dosage I injected into the apple was indeed just right,” the person exclaimed as they dragged the security guard and his chair away from the surveillance station. They settled in front of the computer and prepared to tamper with the footage.

Their attention was drawn to a white figure in the corner of the camera footage. “Oh, what’s this?” they wondered aloud, clicking on the monitor.

“This…this is…” the person’s face was horrified as they realized what they saw. They turned to run, but the long hair that burst forth from the screen wrapped around them tightly. In the person’s unbelieving gaze, they were sucked into the screen.

On the screen, the elevator had one more person in it.

The hotel lobby on the first floor was bustling with guests waiting for the elevator. When it finally arrived, they all rushed in. But to their surprise, the elevator alarm beeped even though they were nowhere near the overload limit.

“That’s strange. None of us are overweight,” the guests murmured, stepping out and waiting for the next elevator.

As the elevator doors slowly closed, the people waiting outside watched in amazement as the number on display rapidly dropped.

“What’s happening?”

“Why are they going down? Call them back up!”

“That’s not right. Does this hotel have so many underground levels?”

“It’s impossible! I was responsible for the construction of this hotel, and there was only one parking level. This…”

In a matter of seconds, the elevator plunged to the negative eighteenth floor. The bright red number, combined with the number eighteen, immediately evoked thoughts of the eighteenth level of hell.

The display paused on the negative eighteen momentarily before slowly ascending, stopping at each floor as if passengers were getting on and off.

“Ahhhhh—!”

The people waiting at the elevator were terrified. Some called the police, while others sought the hotel manager. Most ran out of the hotel in a hurry, seeking refuge elsewhere.

The elevator eventually came to a steady stop on the first floor.

The people downstairs had already fled, but some upstairs remained oblivious and continued to wait in front of the elevator. They were also drawn in and plunged into the depths of hell.

Finally, the police arrived, and with their assistance, the hotel staff opened the elevator.

To their horror, they found it was filled with countless body parts. The corpses were pale, stiff, and covered in bloodstains, emitting a putrid, rotten stench.

When the door opened, the pile of corpses collapsed outward, burying the staff member standing in front of the elevator.

However, when the police finally managed to remove the pile of corpses, they found that the staff member who had been buried was nowhere to be found. It was uncertain whether he had also become a part of the corpse pile.

The people present had never witnessed such a horrific tragedy before, leaving them all scared out of their wits. The police bravely attempted to move the body parts onto their vehicles, but before they could do so, they poured out of the elevator again, burying them all.

“There’s still more… it’s haunted! Help!”

“Quickly! Get out of here!”

“Who locked the door? Don’t do this! Let us out!”

A few onlookers ran to the door, desperately tapping on the glass and asking for help from passers—by. To their disappointment, even if there were passers—by, they only glanced quickly and did not pay much attention.

“Help! It’s haunted!”

As they desperately pounded on the glass door, the disembodied limbs behind them surged forward, enveloping them in a macabre embrace. The muffled screams of the onlookers faded into nothingness.

The severed body parts poured out of the elevator, and a relentless tide of horror filled the lobby. No escape was possible as the limbs pursued their prey with an unwavering, eerie determination. Soon, even the ceiling was dripping with blood.

As the last corner of the lobby was filled with gruesome remains, the elevator door flickered and then opened. The limbs and blood seemed to take on a life of their own, moving of their own accord towards the elevator door. The darkness of the elevator consumed the remains until nothing was left.

The lobby returned to its previous state, clean and tidy, as if the horrific events of moments before had never occurred.

The elevator doors creaked shut, the dimly lit numbers flickering erratically as if possessed, and a haunting hum echoed throughout the empty lobby. Soon enough, they opened again, and individuals with rigid, pallid expressions shuffled out one by one. The elevator seemed like a bottomless pit, letting out people without pause until the people filled the entire lobby. Each person was indistinguishable from those who had vanished before them. Standing in the lobby, their ashen faces bore a disturbing grin in unison. Gradually, the people reverted to their original expressions before parting ways.

Nie Yunzhen descended the stairs, searching for someone who had yet to return from downstairs.

As he entered the lobby, he encountered his partner, who was about to board the elevator.

“Why did you take so long? We’ve been waiting for you for ages,” Nie Yunzhen inquired.

“Don’t even mention it. I was about to change the surveillance footage when the lobby manager suddenly appeared. He claimed that a guest had lost something essential, and he needed to review the surveillance footage. He didn’t even seem upset when he saw the security guard sleeping and took the guest to look for the missing item. I had to lurk on the sidelines and wait for nearly an hour,” the person explained.

“Alright, let’s head back now.”

The individual quickly assented and trailed behind him as they climbed the stairs towards their room.

The sky grew dim, and the stroke of midnight approached rapidly.

Their second game was about to commence.

One cannot deny feeling nervous in this situation. Being alone, locked in a confined space, and cutting an apple in front of a mirror was already unsettling. Who knows what might appear in the mirror once the apple is sliced?

Ye Shengke voiced his frustration. “Where do all these strange paranormal games come from? And now they’re actually coming to life. This game is obviously trying to summon ghosts, isn’t it?”

Shi Yan replied, “Well, aren’t all games just trying to summon ghosts? It’s only the second day.” She turned to glance at Chu Xiu, whose face was stoic and inscrutable. Unable to resist her curiosity, she asked, “Brother Chu, what do you think of these games?”

Chu Xiu replied, “At present, it’s just speculation, and we cannot confirm anything.”

“In that case, let’s all share our thoughts and ideas,” suggested Shi Yan.

“I have no objections,” agreed Chu Xiu. “Based on all the information we’ve gathered, the games we’ve played for the past seven days can all be classified as summoning rituals. As for ghosts, no one truly knows what ghosts are, but when you mention ghosts, most people imagine some kind of intangible entity. After what happened yesterday, I suspect the ghosts we’ve summoned may possess someone, perhaps even without their knowledge.” Chu Xiu’s words cast a dark shadow over everyone’s hearts.

If what he said was true, who among them was possessed?

Although Chu Xiu had just dropped a bombshell, he remained unfazed. He glanced down and noticed some stains on his navy blue denim jacket. With a nonchalant expression, he lightly patted them off.

“On the contrary, this is one of the ways to survive. Remember Yun Qian yesterday? She didn’t die after being possessed, did she?” he said.

In other words, even if something goes wrong while playing these paranormal games, there won’t be any fatalities until the seventh day. However, what happens during the possession was uncertain.

As the sky outside gradually darkened, Chu Xiu opened the door. Everyone knew where he was headed, and Nie Yunzhen and Ye Shengke silently trailed behind him.

“No need; you guys can go back,” Chu Xiu said.

According to the surveillance footage during the day, the man inside was just an ordinary young man. One person with a gun was enough; too many people would only arouse his suspicion, and he wouldn’t want to open the door.

Chu Xiu turned left after stepping out and knocked on the middle door. “Who’s there?” A young man’s voice came from inside.

Then, the sound of light footsteps could be heard. Chu Xiu could even imagine the man’s cautious expression as he approached the door.

He knocked on the door once more and took a step back. “Police. A guest at the hotel has reported missing a valuable item, and we need to ask you a few questions.” He displayed his counterfeit police badge next to his face so that the person on the other side of the peephole could see it clearly.

The person inside muttered something, likely a complaint, but opened the door nonetheless.

The young man stiffened as soon as the door opened.

A gun was pointed at his head.

Lu Yan stood frozen with his hands raised in front of his chest, looking terrified. As the man outside the door moved closer step by step, Lu Yan had no choice but to retreat until Chu Xiu entered the room and used his free hand to pull the door shut.

“What do you want?” the young man asked tremblingly.

“Don’t worry, we just want you to play a game with us,” Chu Xiu said.

“A game? What kind of game?” the young man asked, fear still evident in his voice.

Chu Xiu was adept at intimidating people with his cold expression. He should have been satisfied with the effect he had achieved. But looking at the fear on the young man’s face, he felt that something was amiss.

So he didn’t lower his gun.

No, something wasn’t right…

Based on his observations, the young man was very cautious, and many details suggested that he was calm and collected.

He shouldn’t have panicked so quickly.

Lu Yan noticed the doubt on Chu Xiu’s face.

In a split second, this idea came to Chu Xiu; the young man opposite turned his head at lightning speed, dodging the gun. He then grabbed Chu Xiu’s wrist and struck him in the abdomen with his elbow.

Chu Xiu felt a sharp pain in his stomach, but he used his free hand to strike the man’s neck with force despite being caught off guard. However, the man was too quick and dodged to the side, causing Chu Xiu’s chop to hit his shoulder blade. Before Chu Xiu could react, the man forcefully knocked him down to the ground and hit his forehead hard on the floor.

The gun slipped out of Chu Xiu’s hand and landed on the floor outside the door with a “crack.”

“Who are you? What do you want?” Lu Yan finally breathed a sigh of relief and held the man’s hands to prevent him from struggling. Then, he noticed the man had passed out due to the collision.

Lu Yan turned the man over, being extremely careful not to let go of the wrist he was holding. However, the man remained unconscious.

He hesitated for a while, then hit the man’s neck again before releasing him from his restraints and getting up to pick up the gun.

As Lu Yan stood up and walked towards the door, he felt a sharp pain in the back of his head.

Chu Xiu had another gun in his hand, and the butt hit the man’s occiput before catching the unconscious man.

It seemed Chu Xiu’s suspicion was correct; this man had a strong sense of vigilance.

Chu Xiu squatted to pick up the gun and carried the unconscious man back to his room.

37 ☆ Mimi’s Death

As Lu Yan’s eyes fluttered open, he found himself confronted by a group of four: three men and a woman.

Upon seeing that he had awakened, their collective grins offered no solace to Lu Yan. Instead, they were reminiscent of those possessed by highwaymen.

“What is it you want?” Lu Yan’s attempts at resistance proved futile as he was bound fast to a chair. Ultimately, he acquiesced, “If it is money you desire, I can provide…”

“No, no, no, money holds no interest for us.” Nie Yun Zhen interjected, “We simply request that you engage with us in a game. Let us, before we play, exchange introductions. Are you Lu Yan, yes? We first saw you at the hotel’s reception desk.”

After casting his gaze down and up, Lu Yan met his eyes with Chu Xiu, “And what game do you propose?”

Lu Yan’s quick recognition of Chu Xiu as the leader did not go unnoticed by the group.

Setting aside his apple and knife, Chu Xiu regarded Lu Yan, “It is simple. Shi Yan, please elucidate the rules.”

Without further ado, Shi Yan explained the game’s mechanics, yet as expected, Lu Yan was left incredulous.

Lu Yan wouldn’t have minded if it were just a game among friends, but to kidnap someone and force them to participate in a game was an obvious red flag.

“I don’t mind if you don’t want to, but there are plenty of people in this hotel. We’re just making things easier for ourselves.” Shi Yan’s tone was neither soft nor harsh, but she issued a threat. “Besides, this game isn’t dangerous at all. Once you’ve finished playing, we’ll take our turn. Don’t believe us? See for yourself.”

All four were peeling apples with knives, and the garbage can was overflowing with long strips of apple peel, along with a pile of oxidized, peeled apples.

Shi Yan caught a glimpse of Lu Yan’s hesitation.

He asked, “You’ll let me go once I’ve played this game, won’t you?”

“Absolutely,” Shi Yan’s smile was sincere.

And so, the five of them sat down together to practice peeling apples.

None of them knew that pale figures were gathering outside the door. Without exception, they were people who had died today in the elevator incident, but no one would know that they were dead. Once discovered, the discoverer would meet the same fate.

The pallid and lifeless figures multiplied, streaming in from various floors and rooms. Their eyes bore into the door, fixated with a ravenous, bestial hunger for their prey.

Despite their growing numbers, the five individuals remained oblivious, with no intention of leaving. Thus, the dead held their positions for what felt like an eternity, their once-human faces now twisted with sinister, resentful anger that defied comprehension.

A chill wind swept through the room as the clock ticked closer to midnight.

“How strange, I could have sworn I shut the window,” Ye Sheng Ke remarked, walking over to inspect it. Puzzled, he turned back and sat down.

Had he leaned out the window, he would have glimpsed a girl in a blood-soaked school uniform skirt scaling the hotel’s exterior wall, inching closer to their room. But he failed to take notice, missing the opportunity.

Was this inexplicable gust of cold wind a sign?

Every unnatural detail, no matter how small, could be a vital clue. Chu Xiu, recognizing the situation’s urgency, rose from his seat and spoke with conviction. “Mr Lu, we must relocate. Let us adjourn to your room.”

Lu Yan’s lips twisted in mild annoyance, but he relented.

One by one, they filed out of the room. As they opened the door, the hallway beyond fell into a deep hush, punctuated only by the warm, muted glow of the floor lamps.

Lu Yan obediently opened the door under the threat of force from Chu Xiu’s gun. The weapon was withdrawn once they were inside the room. Shi Yan and Ye Sheng Ke went into the bathroom, and after a brief moment of commotion, they returned.

“Alright, it’s all on you now. We’ll be waiting for you next door. There’s a surveillance camera in front of the mirror, so don’t even think about playing tricks,” Nie Yun Zhen handed Lu Yan an apple and a fruit knife with a mysterious smile. “See you later.”

Lu Yan felt uneasy, interpreting the statement as if he needed hope for his safe return. Without a word, he calmly took the items and went into the bathroom.

The four left and shut the door.

It was ridiculous that they had to enter and exit together to prevent anyone from being replaced by a ghost. Waiting for Lu Yan on the side was even more absurd.

Inside the hotel room, the computer screen displayed dark surveillance footage.

A man sat in front of the mirror, and the only light came from a thin sliver of illumination sneaking through the gap in the door. It might have been an illusion, but his face appeared exceptionally pale in the mirror.

Following the game’s rules, he lit the white candle before the mirror.

A flicker of flame burst forth, casting an eerie glow. Gradually, the image in the mirror became blurred, obscuring his vision.

Lu Yan glanced at the mirror briefly before picking up the apple and small knife. He lowered his head and began peeling the fruit, the blade removing the skin in a thin, deliberately long slice. The peel spiralled down and piled up, forming a small, circular mountain.

Lu Yan appeared fearful, refusing to look at his reflection in the mirror. Instead, he focused on peeling the apple.

As he continued to peel, the apple’s skin grew longer, and the image in the mirror grew clearer. However, the reflection remained mundane, showing only a man peeling an apple.

Finally, he finished. The apple peel was unbroken from start to finish, and nothing seemed amiss in the dimly lit room, including the mirror’s reflection. There was no blood or flesh, no hint of horror.

Lu Yan visibly breathed a sigh of relief, quickly exited the bathroom, and knocked on the door outside.

The four people inside the room were unsure whether to feel relieved or disappointed. Nevertheless, it was better to avoid inviting any ghosts into the room. If they did, they would not know what to do.

“It appears that today’s game may not carry many risks,” Nie Yun Zhen said, chuckling at his statement.

They heard knocking, and Ye Sheng Ke answered the door.

Outside, Lu Yan spoke coldly, “I’ve done what you asked. Can I have my room key back now?”

“Not yet,” Chu Xiu said, flipping the key. “There are still four of us here.”

Lu Yan remained silent and simply entered the room, watching as Shi Yan departed. Shi Yan became the second person to be selected.

The surveillance footage showed a pitch-black room until Shi Yan’s figure emerged. She entered the room and sat before the mirror, lighting a candle like Lu Yan’s.

The light of the candle flickered and illuminated the space. As it did, Shi Yan recalled something that made her body freeze and her blood run cold.

Lu Yan had not extinguished the candle after finishing the game. So, who had?

The thought that an unknown presence could lurk in the shadows and stare at her sent chills down Shi Yan’s spine.

But the mission had to be completed.

With a trembling hand, she picked up the bright red apple. She only realized her hand was shaking as she tried to steady the knife.

“It’s okay…Lu Yan emerged unscathed, didn’t he?”

Shi Yan rallied and encouraged herself, pushing her fear aside. After ensuring the candle remained steady, she placed the fruit knife’s blade against the apple’s skin and began peeling it at an angle.

The apple’s peel curled and fell, forming a spiral pile as the person in the mirror became more distinct.

As the peel continued to fall, Shi Yan shuddered unexpectedly.

It wasn’t fear that gripped her, but a chilling sensation crept over her skin and seeped into her bones.

Why…why is it so co…?

She couldn’t bring herself to think more. All she could do was sit there, her body rigid with tension, her hands shaking as she struggled to peel the apple faster.

Faster…don’t let it break…

Even faster…

Who knows what unimaginable horrors awaited her if she stayed in that room a moment longer!

Never before had Shi Yan trusted her instincts with such conviction.

At last, with relief flooding through her, she finished peeling the apple. She took a deep breath and quickly made her way to the door, checking to ensure she was safe before returning to the room.

As she left, the white candle before the mirror extinguished itself.

But as she reentered the room, she noticed an unusual silence had fallen over the group. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Did something happen?”

Ye Sheng Ke’s face was ashen as he pointed to the computer screen. “Sister Shi…while you were peeling the apple, there was a woman in white. She…she kept blowing on your neck.”

As he rewound the footage, the group watched in silence.

The screen flickered, revealing a white figure with long, flowing hair standing behind her. The woman stood, her face hidden behind a curtain of hair, her eyes locked onto the reflection of the woman in front of her.

In an instant, Shi Yan’s complexion drained of colour.

She had done it… summoned something!

The ghost had been blowing on her just a moment ago, explaining the sudden chill that had overtaken her.

“So, what do we do now?” Shi Yan’s voice shook with panic as she glanced over her shoulder. “She isn’t following me, is she?”

Ye Sheng Ke shook his head. “No, she’s retreated into the mirror.”

But the ghost had already found them. There was no doubt that the next task would be extremely dangerous.

Who would be next?

There was a real ghost in the mirror!

Chu Xiu made the final decision. “Let’s move to a different room and carry on.”

They had reserved four rooms in total. Even if the things they summoned didn’t follow them, what was the harm to these NPCs if they left the hotel after finishing the game?

No one opposed the idea. Lu Yan opted to remain the invisible man. Given the impact of the last scene, he wasn’t in a hurry to reclaim his room key. “Can I leave now?”

His complexion turned ashen as he stood there; the previous image had been too much to bear, dealing a heavy blow to his years of dedication to science.

“I’ve already told you, you cannot leave until the four of us are done,” Chu Xiu stated before turning and exiting the room.

With only a few mini-cut cameras, retrieving one from the previous room was impossible. Thus, they agreed to inform each other if anything unusual occurred.

Chu Xiu walked up to the mirror, following the necessary steps.

To his surprise, nothing happened.

After he emerged, he explained the situation honestly. However, the other three were dubious, and their suspicions turned into scepticism as they recalled that only Yun Xian had been harmed the previous night.

Next was Nie Yun Zhen’s turn.

The previous three had completed the task without any trouble, so Nie Yun Zhen regained some confidence. He entered the room that Chu Xiu had left only moments ago and sat in front of the mirror.

The candle remained lit this time, and a fruity aroma filled the air. Nie Yun Zhen surveyed the utensils he needed before beginning his work with practised ease.

Yet, when he was halfway through peeling the apple, the image in the mirror abruptly shifted in a bizarre direction.

The ghastly scene caused his hands to freeze, and a violent tremor coursed through his body.

He couldn’t let the peel break!

He steadied himself, determined to continue peeling the apple, but his hands trembled, and his gaze kept darting to the mirror, distracting him from the task.

He witnessed a horrifying scene: a ghostly figure tore off his head and flung it into a nearby basketball hoop, which remained lodged. His eyes widened in terror, his face twisted in a grimace of horror.

Was this an omen of his impending demise?

In the next instant, the image flickered and revealed the hotel lobby. But it was not the tranquil space he had seen earlier. Instead, a relentless torrent of pale, lifeless body parts spilt from the side elevator, flooding the room and swallowing up anyone who remained.

The gruesome body parts then recoiled and surged back towards the elevator with the force of a plunger yanked from a filled tub, disappearing instantly.

He continued peeling the apple, his hand moving painstakingly slowly until only a sliver of skin remained.

Nie Yun Zhen took a deep breath and slowly lowered the knife, the metallic tang of fear still sharp in his mouth.

The mirror image vanished, exposing his ghastly countenance.

Why…how… did this game show him the future?

What day had the mirror image revealed? When would it come to pass?

No matter; he had to flee at once.

The hotel was uninhabitable.

Nie Yun Zhen emerged from the cramped space and reunited with the group. He shook his head, facing Lu Yan, signalling that nothing had occurred.

The last to go was Ye Sheng Ke.

Lu Yan appeared to glance past him, but his vigilance was palpable.

Was the white-clad female ghost still perched on his neck?

Could the white-clad apparition be the one who blew breath behind Shi Yan earlier?

Lu Yan kept his composure, and the others didn’t notice. After a brief greeting from the typically reticent Ye Sheng Ke, he departed for another room.

Upon entering, Ye Sheng Ke was again reminded of his dying friend’s final cry.

He could never forgive himself. He was a coward, through and through.

He would make amends at his friend’s grave if he survived this ordeal.

Ye Sheng Ke retrieved the knife.

The candle flame quivered.

With each twist of the blade, the image in the mirror sharpened. And what he saw was…

The fruit knife clattered onto the floor.

Minutes later, Ye Sheng Ke returned to the room and shook his head. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

The mission had a seven-day duration. Despite it being already the second day, there hadn’t been any casualties.

Unsure who to trust, Chu Xiu calmly said, “It’s fortunate that nothing unusual occurred. As it’s already late, I suggest everyone return to their rooms and rest. We will continue with our tasks tomorrow.”

The third day’s mission was stranger and more surreal than the previous one, and they needed to be well-rested.

Gradually, the group dispersed upon his words, except Ye Sheng Ke, who shared his room with Chu Xiu after his previous room was used as a ghost-baiting spot, opting to sleep on the sofa.

“May I have the room card?” Lu Yan asked Chu Xiu succinctly and directly.

Without any hesitation, Chu Xiu handed the card back to him. “Are you certain you want to return and stay there now?” he inquired.

“Changing hotels isn’t out of the question, is it?” Lu Yan retorted.

Tsk, changing hotels…

Whether they chose to climb the stairs or take the elevator, being on the thirteenth floor, there were bound to be surprised after midnight.

Chu Xiu did not try to stop Lu Yan and watched as he left the room.

“Ye Sheng Ke, do you believe that tomorrow’s task will be as successful as today’s?” he asked, suspicion laced in his tone as he observed Lu Yan’s departure with unease.

Ye Sheng Ke shook his head, showing a rare hint of concern. “It’s difficult to say, but what’s most important is that tomorrow’s task requires only the four of us without seeking help from others.”

This also meant they could no longer rely on NPCs as human shields.

The game they would play on the third day was even more peculiar, known as the “Four Corners Game.”

After midnight, four individuals stood in a dimly lit room, each positioned in a corner. One of them began to walk clockwise towards the next corner, and as they reached it, the person who had occupied it followed suit, continuing in the same direction. If someone arrived at an unoccupied corner, they would cough before continuing.

Legend had it that after playing this game for some time, a prolonged silence would follow, signifying that all four corners were taken.

So, who or what was the extra presence?

Chu Xiu suggested, “Let’s proceed step by step per the task’s arrangement.”

The night grew even darker, and the entire hotel was silent. Even the receptionist couldn’t help but yawn repeatedly.

To everyone’s surprise, the night was eerily calm, too much so for it to be normal. Soon, the sky began to lighten, and the sun gradually rose.

In the dim light, a figure descended from the thirteenth floor.

His steps were fast and unrelenting as if he knew the hotel like the back of his hand. He swiftly made his way to the surveillance room, knocked out the security guard on duty, and began to search for something.

That person was none other than Nie Yun Zhen!

Last night, when he saw his reflection in the mirror, he realized that he might have caught a glimpse of a future event.

In the future, he would have his head removed and be thrown into a basket by a ghost, like a basketball. He would remain there until he rotted away and turned into a pile of bones.

He couldn’t die! He mustn’t die!

Nie Yun Zhen’s eyes widened as he meticulously searched for the information he needed from the surveillance footage.

Yesterday, Nie Yun Zhen overheard that a man with the surname Wen had checked into the hotel and lost a valuable item. The man was seething with anger and had been relentlessly grilling the hotel staff. This was also the pretext Chu Xiu used to dupe Lu Yan into opening the door under the guise of a police search. Since there was indeed a commotion in the hotel about a missing item, so Chu Xiu’s ploy worked like a charm.

As fate would have it, the security guard let slip that the man had brought a very peculiar object – a statue from overseas. The statue was tightly wrapped but had disappeared under mysterious circumstances.

Mr Wen had returned to the hotel in the morning to inquire about the lost item and had inadvertently revealed that his daughter was Wen Qing!

They had personally witnessed strange things about Wen Qing. Could they be connected to her father?

Moreover, Wen Qing kept mentioning “grandma”. Obviously, there must be some family secret lurking in the shadows.

If only he could locate that statue…

Taking a deep breath, Nie Yun Zhen resumed carefully examining the surveillance footage. Suddenly, his eyes locked on a blurry figure entering a room on the second floor. The person’s pockets were bulging, and a corner of a red wooden statue was faintly visible.

Could this be the missing statue?

Nie Yun Zhen carefully captured a screenshot of the surveillance footage, zoomed in for a closer inspection, and the more he looked, the more convinced he became that it was the same statue. The red edge was indelibly etched in his mind, so he decided to investigate further.

Before leaving, he meticulously positioned the security guard on the table to make it appear as if he had fallen asleep. That way, he wouldn’t suspect a thing upon waking.

He strolled towards the reception desk, casually conversing with the receptionist before swiftly rendering her unconscious and procuring the room key.

It all went off without a hitch, almost too smoothly to be believed. He found himself on the second floor, outside the same room he had been seeking. With the key in hand, he noiselessly unlocked the door. Inside, the figure lay sleeping, their head obscured by the covers, while on the bedside table sat the crimson statue he had long sought.

Upon first sight, Nie Yun Zhen was entranced.

It resembled a handmaiden, standing silently with a serene countenance, yet the blood-red hue and unnerving texture of the wood brought to mind words like twisted and macabre.

He had no doubts about the guard’s warning. This statue… must possess some extraordinary power.

In the meantime, Lu Yan descended the stairs, preparing to depart the hotel.

“Excuse me? Is anyone there?” He rapped insistently upon the reception desk until the attendant, who had been dozing, stirred and rubbed their eyes. “Oh, my apologies, sir. Can I assist you with something?”

“I wish to check out.”

“Certainly; please give me a moment.” The attendant’s demeanour was pleasant and efficient, quickly processed his request.

After completing the checkout formalities, Lu Yan strode out of the hotel, his form illuminated by the revolving glass door.

An idea suddenly struck him.

As he departed the hotel, he deliberately tried to ignore the strikingly vivid skeleton poised at the reception desk, visible through the glass entrance.

The receptionist, still as a statue, maintained a smile with eerie perfection behind the desk.

Abruptly, her eyes rolled towards the ceiling, piercing through it to fixate on a minuscule mouse scurrying across the floorboards above.

In a dilapidated, crowded urban complex, a single room lay drenched in blood, and three bodies were strewn about. The corpses belonged to an older woman, a young girl, and a black cat, all mangled beyond recognition and immersed in a crimson pool. The blood took on a life of its own, forming a ghastly pattern.

Unexpectedly, the young girl’s eyelid fluttered.

Despite her corpse-like pallor, unmoving chest, and grisly wounds, believing she was still alive was difficult. But her eyelid twitched as if she struggled to stir from slumber.

In the cramped room, the shattered statue lay scattered across the floor.

On the shrine, a twisted and disfigured idol had replaced the previous one. The new statue, as red as its predecessor, emanated a terrifying aura.

As the girl’s eyelids continued to struggle, the crimson hue of the idol grew increasingly vivid until it seemed as though blood might drip from its surface.

“Kill…kill them… Revenge for Yun Qian…” The girl’s voice was barely above a whisper as she repeated, “End them all…” Her eyes snapped open wide with an unspoken terror. She sat up and surveyed her surroundings. The familiar room was ordinary in every way, except for the bloodied remains of her beloved feline companion, Little Mimi, lying beside her.

“Little Mimi? What happened to you? Who did this?!” she cried, her heart breaking at the sight of the mangled body. As she mourned the loss of her pet, Wen Qing forgot that she had already died, forgotten that her grandmother had been possessed and had killed both her and Little Mimi. Confused and disoriented, she clung to the tiny creature’s lifeless form and wept for a long, long time until she finally stirred her grandmother from her slumber.

“QingQing, what’s wrong? It’s so early in the morning; why are you so sad?” Grandma walked out of the room.

“Grandma, something terrible has happened. Little Mimi is dead,” she sobbed, seeking solace in the old woman’s embrace.

“Well,” Grandma said, her expression somewhat sheepish. “I accidentally killed her. She was making too much noise at night, so I threw her out the window…”

“What?!” Wen Qing stared at her in disbelief.

Though her grandmother’s demeanour remained kind and benevolent, there was something unsettling that sent chills down Wen Qing’s spine.

38 ☆ Extra Unknown

[TN: I think it is time to start guessing who will survive, who will not. Or maybe no one?] [Comment below ^^]

“Hey, QingQing, what’s up?” Yun Qian noticed that her bosom friend seemed off today.

Wen Qing seemed haunted by something, her face pallid and forehead drenched in sweat. When they departed from class earlier, even a light tap on her back was enough to make Wen Qing scream in terror.

This was uncharacteristic of her.

Wen Qing still bore a petrified expression. She appeared on the verge of saying something, yet she clamped her lips together and shook her head, electing to remain silent.

Yun Qian felt ill at ease witnessing her friend’s distress. She stretched her hand and held Wen Qing’s, feeling an iciness she had never before experienced. “Shall we depart together after school?” she inquired.

“Nay, I am fine,” Wen Qing declined again, shaking her head. “I have something to attend to.”

“What is it? Do you want me to accompany you?” Yun Qian asked. “You know my parents never bother about me. I finished my homework today, so I have nothing to do at home.”

As Wen Qing hesitated, Yun Qian shook her friend’s arm. “Come on; it’ll be fun… Wait, what’s that odour?”

Abruptly, Yun Qian caught a strange smell emanating from Wen Qing’s schoolbag. She was intrigued and queried, “QingQing, what is in your bag? The smell is so…”

“Nothing!” Wen Qing’s face changed drastically as soon as Yun Qian asked. She hurriedly covered her bag with her hands. “Nothing at all!”

Seeing this, Yun Qian’s suspicion deepened. But seeing how nervous Wen Qing was, she decided to step back. “Okay, okay, if you say there’s nothing, then there’s nothing.”

As school let out, Yun Qian covertly trailed behind Wen Qing onto a bus, which they swapped out at each stop, venturing further and further into the countryside.

What could Wen Qing possibly be up to? Was she walking into danger?

Finally, the bus pulled over to a remote location, a lonely road that led to an unknown destination. Yun Qian didn’t have time to hide before her presence was discovered… 

“I…I just wanted to make sure you’re okay…” Yun Qian stuttered nervously, aware that being followed was never welcome.

Wen Qing sighed, “Ah, forget it. We’ll return together after I finish what I came for.”

Yun Qian breathed a small sigh of relief, “Sure. By the way, what are you doing out here?”

Wen Qing’s eyes glistened with tears, “Little Mimi passed away. I need to give it a proper burial.”

Yun Qian’s heart sank at the news, “Oh my! ” 

Yun Qian didn’t know whether to grieve for Little Mimi first or ask why Wen Qing had to bury it in such a remote place. She had always noticed how much Wen Qing cared for that cat. After thinking for a while, she awkwardly said, “Take care of yourself and don’t be too sad… By the way, why did Little Mimi… was it your dad?”

Wen Qing’s father loathed cats, especially black ones, unlike his daughter. Being in business, he believed black cats were a sign of misfortune and would bring about financial loss. Yun Qian had been to Wen Qing’s house several times and overheard them quarrel over the cat. Her father had even threatened to buy rat poison to kill it.

Despite Wen Qing’s insistence on keeping the cat, her father didn’t want it to remain at their house. As a result, Wen Qing and the cat moved to her grandma’s house.

“Not him. My father is still away on a business trip and hasn’t returned yet.” She shook her head, reluctant to divulge the identity of the culprit.

It dawned on Yun Qian that the unsettling odour emanating from her backpack might be…

The thought sent a shiver down her spine, causing her to move away from her friend’s backpack instinctively. However, she quickly realized the need to be more righteous and reached out to clasp her friend’s icy hand, whispering, “Why must you venture to such a remote locale? And where exactly are you headed?”

Wen Qing’s response was scarcely audible; her voice laced with an eerie quality, “Yin—Yang Road…”

Yun Qian recoiled in fright, the pallid complexion of her friend unnerving her. She hesitated before managing to inquire, “Why there?”

Yin—Yang Road lay on the southwest fringes of their city, already a remote location. It was initially slated for a train station to boost economic growth. However, construction work proved to be fraught with mishaps. The fatality rate of labourers was unprecedented, and even the contractor fell victim to the same fate. Later, a feng shui master was consulted, and the station plans were abandoned and replaced with an ordinary road. Despite its eerie moniker, no one contested the decision to name it Yin—Yang Road, and the name endured.

Legend had it that the area was where the forces of Yin and Yang converge, with few brave souls daring to venture there. As a result, Yin—Yang Road became infamous, attracting thrill-seekers and social media enthusiasts alike, only for them to disappear or suffer a grizzly fate.

Wen Qing’s reassurance echoed in her mind, “Don’t fret.” She urged, “Let’s take Little Mi there. Nothing will happen.”

Yun Qian acquiesced, and the duo boarded another bus.

As they watched the bus getting further and further away from the main road and the bleakness of the outskirts encroach, a knot formed in Yun Qian’s stomach.

“We’re at Yin—Yang Road.” The driver’s gravelly voice announced the terminus.

Save for the two girls; the bus was devoid of any passengers.

As they disembarked, a frigid gust welcomed them, inducing a shiver. Yun Qian surveyed their surroundings, “So this is Yin—Yang Road, quite desolate.”

The bareness of the trees, the hushed atmosphere, and the absence of life rendered the place eerie. The hum of silence was only punctuated by the sound of their footsteps and the whispers of the wind. There wasn’t even a single bird. 

“Actually, we need to go a bit further.” Wen Qing corrected before marching ahead. Yun Qian trailed closely.

The sun set, casting a foreboding pall over the surroundings. It was as if the darkness was thicking and liking its sharp teeth.

In the distance, an SUV approached, carrying four passengers.

Meanwhile, Lu Yan left the strange hotel, lingering in the middle of the sidewalk, unsure of his next move.

Suddenly, something soft brushed against his leg. 

Lu Yan’s gaze fell upon a small black cat whose green eyes shimmered brightly in the sunset. The feline held something in its mouth, and as he examined it, Lu Yan noticed a lost cat poster affixed to the electricity pole nearby, featuring a cat identical to the one before him.

He muttered hesitantly, “Little Mimi?”

To his surprise, the cat nodded, conveying an understanding beyond its species. It leapt onto his hand, released the item it had clutched, and then alighted on his shoulder. Lu Yan examined the object the cat had relinquished, a student ID card bearing a girl’s name. It matched the contact person listed on the lost cat poster.

He surmised that the girl was the black cat’s owner, yet his altruism was not forthcoming, and the situation struck him as suspicious. As he was about to decline, he gazed into the black cat’s eyes, which bore an uncanny resemblance to human eyes.

Eventually, he relented and decided to track down the cat’s owner, Wen Qing, at her residence.

Upon arrival, he discovered Wen Qing was absent, though a gracious elder was present. After bidding his farewell, Lu Yan involuntarily turned back, only to glimpse the cat on the balcony, its eyes filled with mixed emotions. Its gaze was not that of an ordinary cat; instead, it seemed to belong to a human.

Their eyes met for only a fleeting moment before Lu Yan rapidly departed.

Inside the apartment, the old woman scooped up the kitten from the balcony and murmured, “Where could QingQing have gone? Why hasn’t she returned home, even at this late hour?”

The kitten remained silent. Its deep green irises flickered with a hint of red, observing the older woman’s hasty retreat into the little room.

**

“I never thought we would have to return to that cursed road to play this game again.” Four individuals, three men and one woman, sat in an off-road vehicle. The man seated at the back spoke.

Shi Yan seized the conversation, “However, it appears that the place should be safe.” They returned safely the day before, so nothing unexpected should occur today, right?

Ye Sheng Ke agreed with a nod, “Hopefully.”

As they travelled forward, the road grew increasingly bleak. The twilight failed to penetrate the surroundings despite the sun having just set. It was as though the clouds in this area could swallow all light and warmth.

Further ahead, it grew colder and darker. The surroundings became entirely pitch-black, with their hands barely visible before their faces. Even the headlights appeared to be engulfed by the thick shroud of darkness.

After arriving at the place they had played the previous night, they turned the corner and collided with something. None of the four proposed getting out of the car to investigate, and they continued driving forward.

After a while, an abandoned building came into view.

The headlights pierced the darkness and revealed the two-story, abandoned building that occupied a space of two or three hundred square metres. Its decrepit walls were riddled with holes, and half of the second floor had already collapsed, leaving the building on the brink of imminent destruction.

“This is it,” Shi Yan said as she surveyed the building. “It’s eerie, to say the least.”

The structure was a natural horror house, with decay and dilapidation engulfing every inch of its exterior. Even under the glare of the headlights, it failed to offer any comfort, as if something malevolent resided within.

They were about to play the ghost summoning game inside the building later.

“The game we were assigned is also available in our world. However, if it were in the past, I would have dismissed it as a scam,” Ye Sheng Ke shared his thoughts.

“I wish it were,” one of them muttered, “so we wouldn’t be here doing this now…”

“Enough,” Chu Xiu interrupted. “We should focus on the steps for the game later.”

The mission mandated them to stay in the building for an hour before they could leave. The four of them surveyed the structure carefully. Unfortunately, the inside of the building was too dark to make out anything.

“Let’s go inside and figure out which room to play in later,” Chu Xiu suggested.

He was the first to get off the car, holding a flashlight and standing beside it.

The others quickly followed suit, unbuckling their seat belts and getting off the car, each holding a flashlight and standing by his side.

As they stood before the looming building, a shiver of otherworldly cold crept up their spines, sending chills through their bodies. It was a feeling they hadn’t experienced during their car ride, a feeling that warned of danger and the unknown.

Despite the fear that gripped them, they knew the mission had to be done. “Let’s go,” Chu Xiu spoke calmly. “We’ll come back later.”

The four walked in unison, approaching the small building and pushing open the creaky front door on the ground floor. The door, wrought with rust and peeling paint, resisted their efforts to open it, screeching loudly as they heaved it aside, protesting their intrusion.

As they entered, the scene on the ground floor greeted them with a thick layer of dust that rose with the door’s movement. Cobwebs clung to every corner, and the worn tables and chairs were a testament to the years of neglect.

“I heard a train station was supposed to be built here,” one of them remarked. “But it was abandoned after a series of accidents. The workers probably built this building at that time.”

Their research on Yin—Yang Road revealed a dark and ominous history, suggesting it was not a place for the faint-hearted. Ghost stories circulated like a disease, and now that they stood in the heart of it, they knew the rumours held truth.

The lobby was spacious and bare, the flashlight beam casting eerie shadows against the walls. Their eyes scanned the room for anything out of place, but nothing could be seen. Of course, playing a supernatural game in the middle of nowhere was not ordinary, to begin with.

Shi Yan hesitated, covering her mouth due to the excessive dust, as she surveyed the dusty hall. “Are we going to play here?” she asked, her voice muffled.

Chu Xiu nodded in affirmation. “Yes, right here.”

The others looked at each other, bewildered. “Why?” Nie Yun Zhen asked, frowning.

Chu Xiu spoke gravely, “According to the legend of the Four Corners game, the more rounds you make, the greater the likelihood of something happening. We should make our rounds larger to minimize the number of rounds we make. This way, we reduce the probability of hearing or not hearing coughing sounds.”

Chu Xiu’s explanation failed to remove the chill in the air. Although it was no guarantee that they would avoid ghosts, it was better than nothing.

The others listened to Chu Xiu’s words and nodded their agreement. They walked around the hall once, noting the time and checking their watches.

They had spent a lot of money on the most accurate watches to prevent being lost in the task due to timing. Their timepieces were luminous, with two pointers that emitted an eerie green light in the darkness.

The time was 11:25 pm. It would take about twelve minutes to complete one round. They would hear coughing sounds every twelve minutes, and even if they slowed down, they couldn’t stretch it beyond fifteen minutes.

They had to complete at least four rounds in an hour.

The four retreated to the car and fell into an uneasy silence. Time slipped away, each second a painful reminder of their dread. Before long, the clock struck midnight. The witching hour had arrived.

According to the game rules, no light was allowed. They left their flashlights behind. The car’s lights flickered off as they stepped out, and the inky blackness of the night smothered them whole.

The gate hung ajar, beckoning to them. One by one, they slipped through its creaking jaws and shut the door behind them. “As we agreed,” Chu Xiu murmured, “find your spot.” He walked towards the diagonal left, Ye Sheng Ke to the diagonal right, Nie Yun Zhen in the left corner, and Shi Yan to the right. Each stood sentinel in their assigned corner, their backs to one another.

“Are we all set?” Chu Xiu asked.

“Yes.” 

“I’m ready.”

“Affirmative.”

“Excellent. Cover your watches with your sleeve and take one last glance. In three seconds, we begin,” Chu Xiu commanded.

Three.

Two.

One.

The game was afoot. Chu Xiu clockwise traced the wall, his steps measured and deliberate. It was said that a lack of vitamin A in the body could lead to night blindness, making it difficult to see things at night.

Despite training their night vision to the peak of their capabilities, the complete darkness rendered their efforts futile. The four were reduced to groping through the abyss, blinded to their surroundings. Chu Xiu hugged the wall as he walked, his footsteps muffled by the ominous silence.

The first-floor lobby was long and narrow, rectangular, meaning he didn’t have to walk a long way in the first round. 

Still, he slowed his pace. The other two members in the corners kept time, their minds counting the seconds.

After what felt like an eternity, he felt a presence. A person close by. Ye Sheng Ke, judging by the direction. 

As Chu Xiu approached, Ye Sheng Ke apparently sensed him too and retreated, giving him the corner position. Ye Sheng Ke continued down the passage, his steps measured and careful. Chu Xiu breathed a sigh of relief.

Almost five minutes passed before the first set of footsteps ceased, followed by a second set, distinct from the previous ones.

The path ahead was shrouded in darkness, and Ye Sheng Ke’s eyes could discern nothing. Whether he opened or covered them made no difference. He pressed forward, the only way to go, one step at a time.

The darkness was oppressive as if it had a will of its own that sought to consume his very being. Ye Sheng Ke’s mind was plagued with wild thoughts. One moment, he feared a phantom might materialize before him; the next, he worried that the person he would swap with at the next corner would not be his senior sister. As his imagination ran amok, he rounded the corner.

A figure stood there, and he could sense its body warmth and a faint fragrance.

It was his senior sister!

Shi Yan made way for him and proceeded forward, step by measured step.

The path ahead was particularly special, passing by the main entrance. After some time, Shi Yan surmised that she had almost arrived.

Suddenly, a metallic sound echoed through the air.

Her footsteps faltered momentarily, and she felt the urge to turn and flee. But the thought of the consequences of failure held her in place, and she gritted her teeth, pressing on despite her fear.

When the others heard Shi Yan’s footsteps stutter, they feared the worst, their hearts racing. Fortunately, her gait quickly steadied, and Ye Sheng Ke breathed a sigh of relief, convincing himself that it was a mere misstep.

In due course, Shi Yan arrived at Nie Yun Zhen’s location.

As Nie Yun Zhen sensed someone walking towards him, his heart raced, and he felt the heat source gradually approaching him. He stepped back, making space for the approaching figure before turning his head, locking onto the next corner clockwise.

Under normal circumstances, the next corner should be deserted; he needed to cough and walk to Chu Xiu’s position. Still, he couldn’t help but ponder the possibility of something being there – something that shouldn’t be.

Despite his apprehension, Nie Yun Zhen took a deep breath, holding back his fear. Donning a coat with a spacious pocket, he’d secured the statue, even if its eerie aura unsettled him. He needed it to survive the next seven days – no matter the risks, even if the statue concealed an evil spirit.

He’d prayed to countless gods in the past, but none had ever come to his aid. He didn’t care anymore whether he believed in ghosts or evil gods. His survival was all that mattered.

Wait, where’s the statue?!

His hands shook as he searched his pocket to no avail. Panic surged through him as he broke out in a cold sweat. He knew he had placed the statue in his pocket, but when had it vanished?

Could the others have stolen it?

As soon as the idea struck him, it clung to him like the resilient wild grass of spring, refusing to be shaken off. The more Nie Yun Zhen ruminated on it, the more plausible it seemed, and his breaths became increasingly laboured.

Just then, he rounded the corner.

The space before him was empty, devoid of any presence.

Nie Yun Zhen released a deep sigh of relief and coughed a few times heavily before resuming his advance.

The other three breathed a similar sigh of relief upon hearing his coughs.

There was no ghost during the Four Corners game’s first round.

Yet, as Nie Yun Zhen made his first step, a sudden realisation sent chills down his spine.

Why did it seem like someone else had just coughed alongside him?!

He had only coughed thrice; where had the fourth noise come from?

It had already happened… A ghost had slithered its way in!

And it was now perilously close.

Nie Yun Zhen’s heart pounded, but the Four Corners game couldn’t halt. No matter how paralyzed he felt, he had to remain vigilant and keep moving.

Where had the ghost vanished to? Was it still stalking him?

Please, no… Just leave me be!

Why couldn’t it follow someone else?!

As Nie Yun Zhen contemplated, his heart pounded with fear, and he couldn’t help but hasten his steps. But what unnerved him was the sound of light footsteps that relentlessly followed him, no matter how quickly or widely he strode, always a whisper behind… like a shadow.

Chu Xiu was quick to pick up on Nie Yun Zhen’s sudden pace and couldn’t help but wonder, ‘How strange… Could something be wrong?’

Soon after, Nie Yun Zhen arrived, and Chu Xiu, sensing his living presence, sighed in relief. He relaxed slightly and took a step toward the next corner.

Nie Yun Zhen stood in the corner, facing the wall. He assumed the “thing” had trailed Chu Xiu and felt somewhat relieved. But suddenly, he felt a light breath on the back of his neck, and he froze, his body stiff as a board. The chill that ran down his spine was the same feeling he had earlier experienced.

Since everyone had to remain silent, Chu Xiu failed to notice the despair on Nie Yun Zhen’s face. Even if he had, he could have done nothing to help.

The sound of footsteps echoed again.

As they walked for an indefinite time, turning corners repeatedly, Chu Xiu arrived at the next corner, only to realize that it had been quite a while since he had heard any coughing.

Therefore, now each of the four corners was occupied by one person.

Chu Xiu’s heart was racing with fear.

Where could that extra thing be lurking now? Which corner was it hiding in?

Chu Xiu was left in the dark, so he had no choice but to comply with the rules and continue descending.

As he turned the corner, there was a “person” standing. 

If viewed from above, they appeared to be walking in endless circles, their heads spinning. Chu Xiu, like earlier, had noted the count but was led astray by an inexplicable force and forgot the number of rounds and time…

“At last, you’ve come out.”

Upon seeing a figure emerge from the gate, Shi Yan breathed a sigh of relief and welcomed him with a hushed greeting.

The prolonged absence of coughing suggested that they had aroused some unclean entity. They must leave immediately.

Chu Xiu acquiesced and boarded the vehicle.

Nie Yun Zhen instructed, “Buckle up; let’s hurry back.”

Unbeknownst to them, the real Chu Xiu was still entangled in an endless cycle of rounds.

He was still playing the four-corner game with three unknown things.

“Now, where shall we go? Why don’t we return to the hotel?” Nie Yun Zhen suggested, “We haven’t checked out yet.”

He was plagued by anxiety as he could not locate the statue, unsure if it had been inadvertently left at the hotel.

“Agreed.” Without waiting for Shi Yan and Ye Sheng Ke to object, Chu Xiu nodded from the passenger seat, assenting to the proposal.

Nie Yun Zhen gave Chu Xiu a grateful glance as the vehicle started and swiftly drove towards the hotel.

On the city’s opposite end, Lu Yan arrived at a hotel and proceeded to check in.

He had a nagging feeling that he had forgotten something, and the receptionist’s saccharine smile made him uneasy.

“…I woke up to find my precious belongings missing! If I don’t receive a satisfactory explanation, I will have to contact the authorities!” As he checked in, a man stormed out of the elevator and bellowed indignantly.

Behind him, a bewildered receptionist stood at a loss.

The elevator doors gradually shut, showing a bright “1” before the display panel suddenly went berserk, and the numbers started plummeting.

39 ☆ Lift Games

Lu Yan arrived at the hotel, his gut churning with an unshakable sense that something was amiss. Though he couldn’t quite place what was wrong, a creeping unease clawed at his mind. As he sifted through the search results on his computer screen, his eyes froze on several faces that he knew all too well. It wasn’t their features that he recognized, but rather an inexplicable sense of déjà vu that washed over him like an icy wave. Living in a world so fraught with strangeness had honed his instincts to a razor’s edge, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was deeply wrong. But what?

He glanced at the time displayed on his computer desktop, racking his brain for any memory of what he’d done that day. Lu Yan didn’t keep a diary, relying on his mind alone to keep track of his daily activities. In a world where ghosts could easily alter audiovisual and physical records, he knew better than to trust any external sources of information. Though ghosts could still manipulate memories, if there came a day when he couldn’t even remember the past, it would be better to remain lost.

What had he done today?

He left the hotel and returned a lost cat to its grateful owner before returning to his hotel. But as he stared at the reflection of the receptionist in the glass door…

No, this wasn’t like him.

Before unexplainable horrors had upended the world, he might have done something kindhearted like returning a lost pet. But now? The very idea seemed ridiculous.

What happened yesterday?

Yesterday, he…He returned a lost feline to its owner, arrived at the hotel, and was coerced into playing a supernatural game with four individuals who summoned a female ghost… But why couldn’t he recollect this occurrence? Lu Yan took several deep breaths to recall what had happened yesterday. No, his memory had not been tampered with. Rather, he had instinctively rationalized the strange nature of the situation. With his usual level of caution, he would never have returned to the hotel, knowing there was a ghost lurking in the bathroom mirror.

After all, this was not his usual version of the world, and with the presence of these outsiders, even if he did nothing, he could still be pulled into the most spine-chilling and outlandish events. Was it just him, or had everyone who participated in the game forgotten? What secrets did that black cat hold?

Lu Yan’s eyes flicked to the clock. In just a few hours, it would be midnight. Would those people still come to him tonight if his memory were wiped clean?

**

“Tomorrow night’s game is equally eerie; it will take place inside the elevator,” said Ye Sheng Ke.

As they drove back to the urban district, the vehicle was hurtling through the night, causing Nie Yun Zhen’s heart to pound with anxiety. All he wanted was to return to the statue as soon as possible. The others sat silently, gazing out the window at the dimly lit cityscape while chatting in hushed tones.

“In reality, every game we play is terrifying, but tomorrow night’s…” Shi Yan trailed off, her forehead creased in concern.

Thanks to years of experience and a plethora of horror movies, they had learned to avoid places like mirrors, toilets, and elevators – all prime locations for paranormal phenomena – during their missions. Elevators, in particular, were especially fraught with danger.

As a confined space, an elevator was a death trap in the event of a supernatural encounter. Shi Yan knew this firsthand, having undertaken a mission involving an elevator malfunction. They had managed to subdue the ghost and open the door, but the elevator was stuck between the second and third floors. Shi Yan climbed out and returned to help her companion, only for the elevator to plummet to the ground when they were halfway out.

As they fell, Shi Yan held tightly onto her companion’s hand. Blood splattered across her face, and she could only grasp the upper half of her friend’s body while the lower half disappeared into the abyss.

Then, Shi Yan saw her – the red-clothed woman, twisted and grotesque, lying on top of the elevator. The same ghost who had cut the cable condemned them to their fate.

Since that day, Shi Yan had been plagued by a deep psychological trauma that made her avoid elevators at all costs. She took the stairs whenever possible, even though it put her at risk of encountering other terrifying entities.

“Senior, are you afraid?” Ye Sheng Ke’s voice wavered with concern.

Shi Yan’s response was unyielding. “What can fear accomplish? We must press on.”

Shi Yan’s resolute façade concealed her quivering hands. Whenever she confronted an elevator, the image of her colleague’s mangled lower half would surface in her mind, along with the haunting prospect of a female spirit lurking on top of the elevator.

“We are in this together,” Ye Sheng Ke soothed, albeit hesitantly.

Although Ye Sheng Ke sought to assuage his teammate’s trepidations, he could not dispel the uneasy forebodings which plagued them both.

Shi Yan’s brow furrowed with worry. “While we didn’t encounter any danger at the hotel yesterday, we have still invoked a ghost. Are we certain we want to return to the same place today?”

Even Ye Sheng Ke could not confidently answer Shi Yan’s apprehensive query.

Nie Yun Zhen’s reassurances belied his own doubts. “Why not try our luck today? Perhaps we may uncover some clues.”

Despite his words, his inward thoughts remained a mystery.

Nie Yun Zhen was always known for his courage, so it was unsurprising that he entertained such thoughts. When Shi Yan had to turn to Chu Xiu for help again, he responded with a cold and dismissive “Go,” closing his eyes and ignoring her.

As the morning light grew stronger and the sun began to rise, they arrived at the hotel where they had stayed yesterday, the faint light of dawn still lingering in the sky.

“That game tonight is related to the elevator. Let’s take a ride on it before we go up today,” Chu Xiu suggested as they exited the car.

His gaze lingered on Shi Yan for a moment, a subtle hint that his words were intended for her. She agreed, but her expression seemed strained, betraying the fear gnawing at her insides.

As they made their way to the elevator in the lobby, Shi Yan’s eyes widened in terror, as if she were facing a terrifying beast. The elevator seemed to loom over her, ominous and foreboding.

Chu Xiu led the way, positioning himself closest to the door and within reach of the emergency and elevator buttons. The other three followed suit, stepping hesitantly into the small enclosure.

The elevator door slowly closed with a resounding “Ding,” sealing them inside. The air grew heavy and frigid, sending chills down their spines. Shi Yan felt her nerves tighten as the elevator began its ascent.

Surprisingly, nothing happened on the way up to the thirteenth floor, which exceeded her expectations and made her feel that her vigilance was unnecessary.

As they exited the elevator, Ye Sheng Ke stretched his neck, feeling a twinge of pain.

Strange, he thought to himself, why does my neck feel sore?

He followed the others back to the room without giving it too much thought.

In the monitoring room, security guard Xiao Li sat with droopy eyes, the screen in front of him displaying the various hotel sections under surveillance. In one, four people were taking the elevator upstairs, and shockingly, there was a woman in white sitting on one of the men’s shoulders! But Xiao Li was too tired to notice, and his head soon drooped down onto the desk as he drifted off to sleep.

“Today’s game also requires five people. Who should we invite?” Nie Yun Zhen asked, peering out the window at the dawn light just starting to creep over the horizon, signalling the start of a new day.

He yearned to rush down to the monitoring room downstairs and unravel the mystery surrounding the missing statue. At first, he harboured suspicions that the other three may have stolen it but soon dismissed the thought as improbable.

Even though everyone wore clothing with pockets, it seemed implausible that they could have concealed a statue of such length on their persons. Furthermore, finding a hiding place proved to be an equally daunting task. As the driver, he thoroughly searched the vehicle after the first person exited the building where they had played the four-corner game, but his search proved fruitless.

The question remained: where was the statue?

After much deliberation, the four of them discussed where to find a scapegoat to help them, given that this game did not specify a particular number of players nor stipulate that only one person could play at a time. They decided to seek out one or two NPCs to act as shields without any qualms.

“Alternatively, we could use the man from yesterday. If we enlist someone who is slow-witted, it is very likely to impede our progress,” one of them suggested.

The man who lived next door to them had proved himself to be a capable team player, judging by his performance the previous day.

“However, he has already seen our faces. It will be difficult to trick him into opening the door for us again.”

Chu Xiu spoke calmly, “We just need someone to open the door.” His companions immediately understood what he meant.

Nie Yun Zhen raised his hand, “I can do it. Or, if needed, I could even break the lock in the monitoring room.” In truth, Nie Yun Zhen desired to sneak into the monitoring room unnoticed. If caught, he would claim that he was planning to sabotage it.

Chu Xiu nodded and retrieved a gun from his waist, handing it to Nie Yun Zhen. Nie Yun Zhen was taken aback but held the gun, gaining confidence. He gave a thumbs-up with his free hand, “I’ll go then!”

He hurried out of the room, excited to complete his task. Someone suddenly clamped a towel over his mouth and nose as he turned a corner. Nie Yun Zhen’s first instinct was to shout, but he quickly realized his mistake as he inhaled. He struggled, trying to turn his head to see his attacker. However, the person behind him was too strong, and Nie Yun Zhen could not break free. Despite his efforts to hold his breath, he inhaled some gas from the cloth and passed out.

…

After about twenty minutes, Nie Yun Zhen returned to the room with an unconscious man. To everyone’s surprise, it wasn’t Lu Yan; but another older man dressed sharply, with a faint trickle of blood on the back of his head.

Shi Yan was taken aback, “Who is this?”

“I had no choice; Lu Yan refused to open the door no matter what. I even sent a woman to knock, but it was no use. I don’t know if he was asleep or if there was another reason, so I picked someone at random,” Nie Yun Zhen explained.

“But what about him…?”

Nie Yun Zhen gestured dismissively, “Knocked him out.. Rest assured, I know exactly what I’m doing, and he won’t suffer permanent harm.”

Now unconscious, the man they brought into the room was none other than Wen Qing’s father – the very same man who had lost the precious statue.

Nie Yun Zhen had hoped that this aggressive tactic would force the man to divulge the statue’s location.

However, he soon realized the difficulty in achieving his aims – keeping the statue’s whereabouts hidden and engaging in the game together. It would be far better to work together to find the statue.

Nonetheless, Nie Yun Zhen could not be the one to offer up the information. Otherwise, his previous plan to steal the statue would become apparent.

Indeed, before this, he had already gone downstairs and erased all corresponding surveillance footage, leaving no evidence to implicate him.

After some time, the middle-aged man gradually regained consciousness, his dry eyelids fluttering open to reveal a pair of widened, alert eyes.

“Shh… it’s best you remain silent. One wrong move and my hand might slip.” The leader levelled his gun at the man’s forehead, a chilling warning.

The middle-aged man swallowed hard, nodding in silent agreement to indicate his comprehension.

Nie Yun Zhen asked him, “What’s your name?”

“My name is Wen Zheng Xin,” the man quivered, his voice barely above a whisper. “Please, spare my life. I can pay you whatever sum you want…”

“Mr. Wen, there is no need to fear.” Shi Yan spoke with a soft and gentle voice. “We’re not interested in money. But we do require your participation in a game tonight. Then, and only then, will we release you.”

Wen Zheng Xin’s throat tightened as he spoke, “Ah? W-what game?”

“Well…” Thinking that they would be together later, Shi Yan did not want to waste time explaining. She frowned and said coldly, “You don’t need to worry about it. Just take the elevator with us tonight and keep your mouth shut.”

On the fourth night, they’ll play “Another World.”

Starting from the first floor, they must take the elevator to the roof. There they won’t leave the elevator when it stops at the top. Instead, they’ll press the button for the second floor. Upon arrival at the second floor, they’ll stay inside the elevator and press the button for the second to last floor. When the elevator reached the second to last floor, they won’t leave but pressed the button for the third floor…

They’ll repeat this pattern until they reach the middle floor, where the elevator doors open to reveal another world. They could choose to step out or stay inside. They needed to repeat the steps in reverse order to return to their own world.

As they journeyed, a woman may enter the elevator. Remember! Don’t look at her, don’t speak to her, and pretend not to hear anything she says. Making any inappropriate movements may leave you stranded in that world forever.

Shi Yan nervously repeated the rules in her mind, her imagination filling her with fear.

‘Is there really another world?’ she wondered with a wry smile. To them, this world was already another world, after all.

As she considered the strange rules of the game, Shi Yan couldn’t help but wonder what would happen when five people were confined in the elevator’s narrow space.

Seeing Shi Yan’s bad expression, Wen Zheng Xin immediately understood the situation and agreed to her request. “Alright, I promise to play if you sent me back right after,” he nodded.

Nie Yun Zhen carefully observed his expression. Though Wen Zheng Xin appeared afraid, he didn’t fully grasp the situation’s danger. Shi Yan chose not to explain the reason for the game, but Nie Yun Zhen felt the need to elaborate. He hoped that scaring this man would prompt him to voluntarily give information about the statue.

“It’s okay, let me explain it to you,” Nie Yun Zhen said with a friendly smile as he grabbed a chair and sat in front of Wen Zheng Xin. “Perhaps you’ve heard of a game called ‘Another World’?”…

Wen’s eyes widened with each passing moment as he recounted their plan. 

Lu Yan sat in the adjacent room, wearing his headphones and listening intently to the conversation between Wen Zheng Xin and Nie Yun Zhen. When he returned the kitten, he had accidentally seen a family photo on the table at Wen’s house. 

Now that he was staying at this inn, he met Wen Qing’s father. Likewise, the four-taskers also moved in. He didn’t think it was a coincidence, so he had already tampered with Wen Zheng Xin’s belongings and planted a listening device on him.

Later, when Nie Yun Zhen went out, Lu Yan successfully drugged and hypnotized him and learned about the game they needed to play and their original plan. If it were another game, Lu Yan might have had some confidence in breaking through, but not this one… he wasn’t sure.

Therefore, he had Nie Yun Zhen find Wen Zheng Xin and bring him to play.

He wanted to know if this person, Wen Qing’s father, had some unknown secrets.

“No, we can’t do this. Don’t go looking for death,” Wen Zheng Xin said, his face drained of colour after hearing the game’s rules. “Even if you want to die, can you not drag me into it?”

“What are you talking about? Where do you find ghosts these days?” Nie Yun Zhen lied without changing his expression or heartbeat. “As long as you cooperate, we guarantee that you will return safely.”

Wen Zheng Xin shook his head, “You are too reckless, daring to play anything. There are some things… some things that humans should not touch.” As the man spoke, the curious eyes of the other three turned towards him.

Chu Xiu strode up to him and pressed his gun to his forehead, towering over him and demanding, “What did you mean by that? What knowledge do you have of this?”

Wen Zheng Xin’s legs trembled beneath him, and he tumbled from his chair to the ground. “Nothing. I don’t know anything,” he stammered. “Absolutely nothing…”

If only he could keep quiet.

If only he could return home unharmed.

“I’ll give you five seconds to gather your thoughts.” Chu Xiu’s fingers toyed with the trigger, his eyes glacial and indifferent as if he regarded a corpse.

“Five.”

“No…you can’t do this.”

“Four.”

“Murder is against the law. The police will come knocking on your door if you kill me…”

“Three.”

“I’ll talk! I’ll talk!” Wen Zheng Xin shrieked. His chest rose and fell violently, and his brow was slick with sweat.

Chu Xiu lowered his gun.

The story begins a few years ago when Wen Zheng Xin’s daughter had just adopted a black cat. “She was very fond of it,” he said.

Shi Yan interrupted, “Wait, what is your daughter’s name?”

Also surnamed Wen, she had thought of a possibility.

Wen Zheng Xin hesitated, “Wen, Wen Qing.”

When this name was uttered, the four of them exchanged a look, each seeing something incredible in the other’s eyes.

Could it be a coincidence?

They did a good job of concealing their surprise, and Wen Zheng Xin didn’t notice anything unusual, continuing with his story. “…Later, my business was not going well, and I set up a statue at home. Actually, I didn’t believe in it at first, but… what happened to my daughter was too unbelievable. I had to believe it. My child and her grandmother sought the help of every god and goddess, but it was no use. We couldn’t bear to abandon the cat, so we finally invited a statue to be placed in our house, and we worshipped it day and night. That’s when…”

Outside the window, the sky was bright.

Lu Yan glanced out the window and thought about what he had overheard earlier.

Countless pieces of information ran through his mind, and he felt he might have missed something.

“A black cat… a statue…. the road to the underworld…” he mused.

Perhaps he should go and take a look at the road to the underworld.

There was no sound coming from the next room. Everything that needed to be asked had been asked. Lu Yan took off his headphones and walked out.

**

The road to the underworld lay at the end of the crossroads, leading to an abandoned building.

One person persisted in circling the same path, refusing to yield.

He continued to walk until he reached a gate emanating a metallic smell, losing track of how many times he had circled. Without warning, he uttered, “Game over.” With a sudden burst of energy, he flung open the gate and bolted out!

This person was none other than Chu Xiu.

He didn’t even look back as he made his way to the central road in the forest. As Chu Xiu approached the gate, he saw no sign of the car. The absence of his comrades suggested that they had already departed. However, he knew they would not abandon him so easily. The only conclusion was that someone had assumed his identity and fled with them. Of course, the worst-case scenario was that all three had died, and the car had been moved. But Chu Xiu felt that this option was a bit far-fetched.

Hence, he could confirm that a ghost accompanied the three of them. While he had played alone and encompassed by not one, but three ghosts. As he paced the room, a realization hit him like a bolt of lightning – he had been wandering for what felt like an eternity. Each time he turned a corner, the chilling aura of someone else’s presence grew stronger.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Chu Xiu broke into a sprint. Unlike the previous day when he had arrived, he veered off in a new direction, his mind racing with the image of the map he had come across and the route he had taken the day before.

Yesterday’s main road had consumed much of his time, and he estimated it would take him a full morning to traverse it alone. Instead, he decided to take a risk and breach from an uncharted direction.

As he raced through the scenery, everything around him blurred and hastened at a breakneck speed. 

Suddenly, his pupils constricted in fear.

A tree was ahead of him, mere feet away from the roadside. Its presence was insignificant, but it stood out because it was the only tree among the barren branches that had retained its emerald foliage. A rope hung from one of its outstretched branches, supporting the weight of a long-deceased black cat.

But that was not all. It was not just a single feline that hung on the tree, but multiple…

The tree was almost completely covered in the grotesque remains of black cats, their flesh and blood mangled and swinging lightly in the wind. Despite his extensive history with missions, the macabre scene was unlike anything Chu Xiu had ever experienced. He felt the urge to turn and flee but gritted his teeth and charged forward.

To his relief, nothing happened. Chu Xiu passed by the tree, filled with the overpowering scent of dead cats, and continued running.

In the distance, he heard the faint sound of car horns. Exhausted, he felt renewed energy and ran towards the source, waving his arms.

To his surprise, the car stopped about a hundred meters ahead of him. Chu Xiu ran towards it, panting heavily. As he drew closer, his expression shifted slightly.

Lu Yan? What was he doing here?

Unbeknownst to Chu Xiu, Lu Yan was just as shocked as he was.

As Chu Xiu recognized the man from the hotel, he noted that he had cast a shadow under the sun. Realizing it wasn’t a ghost, he rushed towards the person and leapt into the car’s back seat.

“Excuse me, could you take me away? Please turn around and head back,” Chu Xiu requested, his gun pointing at the back of Lu Yan’s head, though he maintained his politeness.

Lu Yan was silent for a moment before starting the engine. Yet, he did not comply with Chu Xiu’s request to turn around. Instead, he accelerated forward, causing the vehicle to surge ahead.

Chu Xiu exclaimed, “You…?”

Lu Yan sneered, “If you have the courage, shoot me.”

With the accelerator pressed to the limit, the car’s speed skyrocketed. At this point, a single mistake from the driver could result in a devastating car accident.

40 ☆ The Woman in the Elevator

The two men locked eyes through the rearview mirror, their gazes unrelenting. It felt like an eternity before Chu Xiu let out a heavy sigh, retracted his firearm, and concealed it somewhere unseen with a flick of his wrist.

Lu Yan’s tense expression gradually eased, but their car continued to hurtle down the open road with lightning speed, swerving past the tree draped in the lifeless bodies of black cats. Only just before the intersection did Lu Yan barely tap the brakes before jerking the steering wheel hard, skillfully executing a dangerously sharp drift? Chu Xiu even heard the scrape of the tires against the road, generating sparks that flew into the air.

It wasn’t until they turned onto Yin—Ming Road that Chu Xiu sat upright in his seat.

“Excellent driving,” he praised.

Not just anyone could have executed that turn under such circumstances.

However, Lu Yan’s countenance remained cold, and he didn’t glance back. His voice was frigidly firm as he commanded, “Buckle up.”

He slammed the gas pedal to the floor, and the engine roared through the trees.

“Wait! You…” Chu Xiu was cut off as he was nearly thrown from his seat. When he managed to steady himself, he realized something was amiss.

Lu Yan didn’t strike him as the sort of person to gamble with his life just to intimidate someone. So what could have prompted him to drive like a madman?

The angle of the rearview mirror seemed purposely adjusted so that only the driver could glimpse what was trailing behind them. Chu Xiu struggled to find the proper angle amid the bumps, but he eventually glimpsed the reason for Lu Yan’s sudden departure.

And it was…

Chu Xiu’s eyes grew wide.

A figure he knew all too well was at the intersection, shrinking to a tiny dot in the distance. He was a tall and lanky figure in a brown leather jacket. It was himself!

As the figure at the intersection stared straight at them, Chu Xiu’s heart sank. He wished he could seize the steering wheel and take control of the car, but Lu Yan seemed to be more composed now as if he had braced himself for what was coming.

“Did you see that?” Lu Yan suddenly asked from the driver’s seat.

Chu Xiu nodded silently.

“This haunted place is real,” Lu Yan sighed heavily. “What do you want? Are you looking for death?”

“You’re here too,” Chu Xiu said, stepping back. He softened his tone, not wanting to provoke resistance. “Why did you come here?”

“That’s not your concern,” Lu Yan replied coldly.

The trees rushed past them, and the wind howled, rattling the windows. Soon, they could see the exit up ahead.

Both of them breathed a sigh of relief.

Although Lu Yan was somewhat unwilling since he had met Chu Xiu, he couldn’t ignore this lead without verifying its authenticity.

“What about your friends?” Lu Yan asked.

“They left me behind to play games,” Chu Xiu said. “By the way, are you still staying at that hotel?” He wanted to confirm if someone was impersonating him.

Lu Yan’s expression turned bitter, and he coldly laughed at Chu Xiu’s expectant gaze. “I have nothing to say. Also, I’ll drop you off at the next intersection.”

“No rush,” Chu Xiu said, “Are you interested in playing another game with me?”

“I’m not interested. And put away your gun.” The vehicle suddenly stopped, and Lu Yan said coldly, “Now, get off the car immediately!”

“Alright.” Chu Xiu got out of the car nonchalantly.

Yin—Ming Road was an empty stretch, with only a few people around, even on workdays. Some buildings were scattered in the vicinity. Chu Xiu scanned the area before loading bullets into his gun and aiming at the wheels. He squeezed the trigger.

Meanwhile, inside the hotel, four individuals sat in a group, discussing Wen Zheng Xin’s account. The atmosphere was sombre, and they spoke in hushed tones, making it hard for Wen Zheng Xin to hear them. He studied their lip movements and expressions, looking for any signs of hope.

“Whether you believe it or not, there are things in this world that exist. I have shared my experiences with you, and you must realize that there are things that humans cannot touch,” Wen Zheng Xin said with a bitter smile.

“We believe you, of course,” said Shi Yan. “So, where is the statue you brought with you?”

Wen Zheng Xin hesitated before speaking. He was unsure about these four people, but they didn’t appear to be the type he could lie to. He stammered momentarily before reluctantly admitting, “It’s gone.”

“Gone?!” The four exclaimed in unison, with Nie Yun Zhen being the most agitated. “When did it disappear?”

Wen Zheng Xin’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Just this morning. I had wrapped it up and placed it in my bag. But when I woke up this morning and checked, it was gone.”

A sudden realization hit Nie Yun Zhen like a bucket of cold water. He had entered the hotel room and spotted the statue on the bedside table, despite Wen Zheng Xin’s insistence that it was in his bag. The question now was, who had put it there?

He turned to Wen Zheng Xin and asked again, “Are you absolutely certain you placed the statue in your bag?”

Wen Zheng Xin’s voice trembled slightly as he replied, “Yes, I’m positive. I wrapped it in parchment paper given by the master and tucked it into my bag, which I then placed in the closet. But this morning, when I opened the bag, the statue was gone. If you don’t believe me, you can search for it.”

Nie Yun Zhen’s mind raced. He remembered stealing the statue from the bedside table without any parchment paper. The front desk attendant had conveniently passed out, providing him a perfect opportunity.

And who was the person captured on the surveillance camera entering the room?

But none of them notices the girl in the blood-stained school uniform climbing the hotel’s outer wall. Her twisted limbs and abnormal bluish-purple complexion made anyone’s skin crawl, and the long trail of blood she left behind only added to the horror. She disappeared shortly after, but not before glaring with her glowing green eyes full of resentment and malice at a certain window on the first floor. Eventually, she crept into the elevator and vanished from sight.

“Let’s go look for it,” Nie Yun Zhen suggested, hoping to uncover more clues. “If we can find it, we’ll have another bargaining chip.”

Shi Yan couldn’t help but feel concerned. She worried they were too passionate about this matter, especially considering that the “divine statue” hadn’t yet been confirmed effective. Any strange curse they might stumble upon would undoubtedly be a death sentence.

But even Chu Xiu agreed that they needed to pursue this matter further. 

Surviving until now was largely due to Chu Xiu’s presence. So Ye Sheng Ke and Shi Yan agreed, and the four of them accompanied Wen Zheng Xin downstairs to find the hotel manager.

Today, the hotel’s business was clearly suffering, with few customers. Wen Zheng Xin knew the hotel owner, and after making a phone call, the manager quickly led all the security guards and staff to them.

“This is a troublesome matter. We don’t know who stole it, and we had to search for it for so long,” complained two staff members hiding in the toilet to chat.

“He even asked if any suspicious individuals had entered the hotel recently? I think he’s strange himself. He doesn’t let anyone into his room to clean, even after staying for several days. I don’t know what’s inside.”

“Hey, do you think he locked himself in?”

They were chatting across a door panel when they suddenly heard light footsteps walking into the toilet from outside. They immediately fell silent.

If someone with bad intentions heard them talking behind a guest’s back, they would be in trouble.

After the two staff members quieted down, the sound of water flowing from the faucet in the toilet suddenly came on.

It turned out that the person was just washing their hands. The two of them hoped that the person would hurry up and leave so they could continue gossiping.

However, even after waiting a long time, they still did not hear the sound of footsteps leaving, and the faucet continued to flow with the sound of rushing water.

One of them sighed, ‘This is so annoying. It must be someone who forgot to turn off the faucet after washing their hands. When they find out, they’ll have to pay a fine.’

She hastily pulled up her underwear and smoothed her skirt as she rose to her feet. With her back to the door panel, she flushed the toilet, then turned to face the door.

Above the door panel, a face appeared. Its skin was rotting and pale, and its lips curved into a strange, unsettling smile.

She couldn’t contain the terror that gripped her. It’s a ghost! The thought flashed through her mind, but before she could scream, a soft, pale hand covered her mouth and shoved her into the toilet bowl.

She fought to free herself, but the hand was too strong. With a gurgling sound, she was pulled into the tiny hole, disappearing without a trace. Only a few strands of hair floated on the water’s surface.

The flush button was pressed again, and a torrent of bloody water rushed out, removing any evidence of her existence. When the water cleared, the bathroom was once again empty.

On the first floor, the hotel manager apologized to the group. “We did our best to search for him, but we couldn’t find him. Except for a guest with the surname Lu who checked out, everyone else is still here. Mr. Wen, is it possible that you misplaced it somewher e-?”

“-Do you have Lu’s contact information?” interrupted Wen Zheng Xin.

“Wait a minute,” said Nie Yun Zhen, looking at Wen Zheng Xin with suspicion in his eyes. “You said all the rooms were searched, what about your own room?”

“Mine? If I could find it in my room, would I have made such a big deal about it?” Wen Zheng Xin angrily retorted, but no matter how you looked at him, he seemed to be concealing something.

“Regardless, it won’t hurt to check,” Chu Xiu interjected, and they followed the manager to Wen Zheng Xin’s room.

“Ah, there really isn’t anything there. You won’t find anything even if you go,” Wen Zheng Xin protested several times, but his efforts were in vain. Instead, they grew more convinced of his guilt.

A strange and pungent odour filled the room, making Shi Yan suspicious of Wen Zheng Xin. The latter’s face turned pale, and he muttered a few words before shutting his mouth.

As the scent grew stronger, they discovered it came from the closet. The manager gestured, and a security guard cautiously approached and opened the closet door. Inside, there were only hotel bedding and linens; nothing else.

The smell, like decaying protein, dissipated when the closet door opened.

After thoroughly searching Wen Zheng Xin’s room, they concluded that there was nothing there.

But Wen Zheng Xin didn’t feel relieved. His face looked even worse, and he walked to the door, petrified.

How could it be?

How could the wardrobe be empty? Where did she go?

“What’s wrong with you? You look very nervous,” Ye Sheng Ke asked as he followed him. He offered him a cigarette and smiled, but the smile only made Wen Zheng Xin uneasy.

“No, nothing, just thinking about tonight…” Wen Zheng Xin’s throat was dry. He took the cigarette but didn’t smoke it. Instead, he put it in his pocket, his hands trembling. His face, however, had already regained its composure.

No, he couldn’t play this game. He had to find a way to escape.

His daughter was still waiting for him.

If something were to happen to him, what would Qingqing do? Her grandmother was already… there was no way to bring her back to life. It pained him to think of his young and innocent daughter, losing her life just like that. Who could be so cruel as to break into their home and take a life?

Thinking of himself returning from a business trip a few days ago, taking a detour to Qingqing’s grandmother’s house to see her, only to find his daughter lying in a pool of blood. The memory was like a knife twisting in his heart. If not for the statue that the delirious old woman clung to, Qingqing would have been left alone in the world.

The statue held power to bring the dead back to life, but only if certain conditions were met. He had to ensure that Qingqing’s favourite creatures were killed before her death and that the statue was bathed in enough blood. He had already sacrificed the black cat that had brought them bad luck and tearfully bid farewell to Qingqing’s grandmother.

Now, he had to find Yun Qian, Qingqing’s best friend from school, and sacrifice her in front of the statue. He had already kidnapped her and planned to take her to the old house, but she was nowhere to be found.

He wondered if Yun Qian had somehow taken the statue and left. If that were the case, it would mean Qingqing had not yet been resurrected, but perhaps something else had happened. Had she undergone a mutation? The sudden thought chilled Wen Zheng Xin to the bone. He had to find out what had happened to the statue and Yun Qian, no matter the cost.

But… He saw her die with his own eyes, but what would her current state be if it was really her?

He was trapped in guilt, unable to confess his heinous crime. Exposing the truth now would mean giving up hope of recovering the statue or reviving his daughter.

“What’s bothering you?” Ye Sheng Ke asked, sensing his unease.

Wen Zheng Xin shook his head, forcing a watery smile. “It’s nothing, really.”

They had made a fuss throughout the day, even stopping for a meal midway. The sun was setting, and they were planning to play the elevator game in this hotel.

Everyone, including Ye Sheng Ke, Shi Yan, and Nie Yun Zhen, had reservations about playing here, especially after losing the statue. Chu Xiu was the only one insistent on staying put. No one could understand why, and they eventually gave in.

Meanwhile, two men sat in the lobby of a luxury hotel on the other side of the city, their strained relationship palpable. They were suppressing their urge to argue, and the tension in the air was so thick that even the waiters hesitated to approach them.

“Don’t worry, we’ll leave once the game is done,” Chu Xiu reassured Lu Yan.

“You sure about that? You’re just looking for someone to be the scapegoat,” Lu Yan retorted.

Chu Xiu’s hands were in his pockets, tightly gripping something Lu Yan knew too well. [TN: If this was a BL novel, lol]

“No need to worry, no one’s going to die,” Chu Xiu said in a calm tone, his finger hovering over the trigger.

Though his voice was relaxed, Lu Yan knew that if Chu Xiu decided to leave, he wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger.

“Why don’t you find someone else?” Lu Yan hesitated to participate in the game, intending only to record it and avoid any risks.

But a small voice within him whispered that if he could survive the game, he would receive unexpected rewards.

Chu Xiu surveyed the hotel lobby, his eyes scanning every detail with a hawk-like intensity. The two receptionists seemed preoccupied with their computer screens, and the security guards appeared half-asleep in their chairs. Chu Xiu muttered, “I don’t want to work with amateurs.”

Lu Yan studied Chu Xiu’s face, hoping to decipher his thoughts, but found nothing revealing. He made a vague noise of agreement and continued to observe the lobby.

After a few minutes, they checked in and took the elevator to their room. Once inside, they began to play a game of twenty-one, intentionally throwing the game at each other. It ended in a tie.

At midnight, Chu Xiu spoke up, “Let’s go.”

Throughout the game, Chu Xiu kept his hands in his pockets, and the muzzle of his gun was constantly aimed at Lu Yan. He had yet to release his grip.

Suddenly realizing that he hadn’t briefed Lu Yan about the elevator game, he quickly said, “I almost forgot to mention the rules. Listen carefully. If a woman enters the elevator during the game, you can’t speak or look at her. Don’t draw her attention, or we’ll end up in a place we don’t want to be.”

Lu Yan replied coolly, “That’s quite terrifying.”

At the same time, two groups were waiting in the lobbies of two hotels for the elevator to arrive.

Before entering the elevator, Nie Yun Zhen reiterated the rules to Wen Zheng Xin, hoping he wouldn’t jeopardize their mission. With a pale face, Wen Zheng Xin nodded in agreement.

For some unknown reason, both hotels were entirely deserted. The once lively city had grown quiet, and an eerie chill had seeped into the lobby. Even the receptionists appeared to be dozing off.

“Let’s begin,” Chu Xiu said, stepping into the elevator, with Lu Yan trailing behind.

The hotel where the two were staying had eighteen floors. They selected the topmost floor, number eighteen, and the elevator began to ascend.

Chu Xiu grasped at straws for a topic of conversation. “Do you anticipate that someone will board the elevator midway?” he asked, searching for any shred of conversation to break the unbearable silence.

“It is possible,” Lu Yan responded indifferently.

They held their breath as the elevator climbed to the eighteenth floor. The lift continued to ascend without a glitch. Upon the doors opening, they were greeted by a warm, yellow-lit corridor.

“Next stop, second floor,” Lu Yan pressed the button for the second floor, and the elevator gradually descended to the target level. 

“And then, the seventeenth floor,” Chu Xiu added as the elevator again started its ascent. They had unintentionally fallen into a routine of only pressing the button for the next target floor, not daring to exit the elevator.

An icy chill gradually filled the elevator, enveloping them in a bone-deep coldness that sent shivers down their spines. “Do you feel it getting colder?” Chu Xiu inquired.

Lu Yan nodded gravely. The coldness they felt was not solely from the weather outside but something from deep within themselves, a cold that permeated their very bones and left them feeling numb.

They lost count of how many times they had pressed the buttons and how many times the elevator had stopped. Finally, they began pressing the buttons for the middle floors, hoping to escape this unnatural chill. Both of them had stopped talking, their teeth chattering as the coldness seemed to cling to their bodies like a second skin.

As the elevator doors opened again, this time on the eighth floor, they were horrified to find only pitch darkness waiting for them. A noxious, musty smell emanated from the darkness like the corridor beyond had not been tended to in years. The elevator lights flickered, casting ominous shadows over their faces.

Their fear intensified as the woman stood outside the elevator door, waiting to enter. Chu Xiu and Lu Yan immediately lowered their heads, avoiding eye contact with her. They knew the rules: do not look, listen, or talk to her.

Their shallow breathing was the only sound in the elevator’s silence. The woman entered the elevator and randomly pressed a button, her presence sending chills down their spines. The elevator descended, its destination unknown.

“Hello,” the woman spoke in a strange, hoarse voice. Her words were cold and slow as if she had been submerged in a frozen wasteland for an eternity.

Both passengers pretended not to hear her, keeping their heads down and avoiding eye contact.

The elevator had a mirror, but even looking at their reflections felt like breaking the rules, so they fixed their gaze on their shoes.

“Why are you ignoring me? Where are you going?” the woman asked, her voice growing impatient.

“Oh, I forgot to mention, I’m going down to the 18th floor. Which floor are you headed to?” she asked, her tone growing more insistent.

“Speak up, why are you ignoring me? Which floor do you want to go to?” she demanded, her impatience escalating into hostility.

“Hurry up, speak!” she barked, her voice now icy and menacing.

But the passengers remained silent, unable to answer her.

They knew that responding to her could lead to a fate worse than death.

In another hotel, five people found themselves on the same elevator, which also had 18 floors. As they frantically pressed buttons, a woman entered the elevator on the ninth floor.

What started as a mere game quickly turned into a chilling horror…

In unison, the five people averted their gaze, avoiding eye contact with the woman. 

“Hello, where do you want to go?” the woman’s voice pierced through the uneasy silence.

Wen Zheng Xin stood closest to her, and his companions couldn’t help but worry that he might break the rules and respond to her.

Although he was trembling with fear, Wen Zheng Xin remained steadfast, refusing to engage with the woman no matter how insistently she spoke.

Despite this, the game appeared far from over.

The elevator descended with excruciating slowness, the descent continuing interminably, and no one knew where they were headed.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to them, a schoolgirl drenched in blood lay atop the elevator car, her face twisted with malice and resentment, her deathly stare focused on the unsuspecting passengers.

41 ☆ The rebellious boy Lu Yan

In the confines of the lift, three figures loomed: two men and a woman, their presence barely acknowledged as the display screen outside ticked down each descending floor.

Chu Xiu cast his gaze downward, his eyes narrowed to a mere sliver as he sought solace in the darkness. Lu Yan followed suit, his eyes squeezed shut as he leaned against the frigid wall.

The woman between them simmered with indignation, her features contorting with each unreturned glance. Gradually, her neck elongated like a rubber band until her head hovered near Chu Xiu’s side, a seething hiss escaping her lips. Sensing something amiss, Chu Xiu recoiled and plastered himself against the wall.

The metal enclosure reeked of rust and iron, a potent blend that assailed their senses. Huddling together for warmth, the two men were engulfed in an eerie silence as the lift hurtled towards its unknown destination. Finally, the car shuddered to a stop, the doors sliding open with a soft whoosh.

The woman disembarked with measured steps. Was she truly gone?

Lu Yan nudged Chu Xiu, but the latter remained tight-lipped, merely shifting away.

Both men were wary, unwilling to let their guard down. Lu Yan edged towards the door, his fingers grazing the icy metal before locating the buttons. After hesitating, he punched in the relevant floor, and the lift began its ascent.

Yet the chill lingered, an unsettling reminder of the unknown horrors beyond.

Was the world outside truly a realm beyond comprehension?

As the lift rose, Chu Xiu breathed a sigh of relief, his eyes flicking open to survey the frost-coated walls. “It’s all right,” he murmured. “She’s gone.”

Lu Yan mirrored his actions, taking in their surroundings with mounting dread. The six walls seemed to exude a palpable coldness, the door rimmed with a delicate veneer of frost.

Chu Xiu scrutinized the buttons, his gaze alighting on Lu Yan. “You did hit the tenth floor, didn’t you?”

Lu Yan stepped back. “I thought you said to reverse it?”

Their fates lay in the hands of the ascending lift, the tenth floor fast approaching.

The hotel had eighteen floors, and to play the Elevator Game, Chu Xiu and Lu Yan needed to follow a specific sequence of floors, beginning from the first floor and going to the eighteenth floor. They would then descend to the second floor and ascend to the seventeenth, continuing until they reached the tenth floor, the game’s midpoint. Reversing the sequence of floors would allow them to return to the real world, starting from the tenth floor and going on to the ninth.

After a brief pause, the elevator halted with a melodious “ding” as the door slid open, revealing a dimly lit area. Cobwebs clung to the long-forgotten corridor, and Chu Xiu’s eyes wandered over the piles of abandoned items scattered around them.

“It does seem like a different world,” he murmured, his brow furrowing. “Do you want to venture out and explore?”

Lu Yan hesitated, intrigued but fearful. “You’re not really planning on going out, are you?” This world was already strange enough. As a mere pawn in the game, he was reluctant to take any risks without safety guarantees. Still, his curiosity burned within him. What could this “different world” be like, and how would it differ from his own and those of outsiders?

Could this world be even more eerie and terrifying than their current surroundings?

Chu Xiu, equally intrigued, was wary of the potential danger. “I’m tempted, but it’s too risky. What do you think?” He pressed the button for the ninth floor, a look of caution on his face.

As the doors began to close, they caught sight of a figure slipping past the gap, sending chills down their spines.

“Are we sure the rules work as they claim?” Lu Yan asked, his voice strained.

Chu Xiu replied, “According to the rules, yes. Also, if we want to go out and take a look, we can, but we’ll have to find this elevator again to return. And the longer we stay in the other world, the more likely we are to get lost.”

The elevator doors opened on the ninth floor, and they exchanged glances before continuing their conversation as Chu Xiu skillfully selected the next button, sending them to the eleventh floor.

“Did the rules say anything about what the other world looks like?”

Chu Xiu shook his head. “There are different accounts. Some say it’s a mirrored world, while others believe it’s the world of the dead.”

As the elevator doors slid shut, a fleeting figure darted past, too swift for Lu Yan and Chu Xiu to discern its gender. They didn’t dare to steal a second glance, promptly averting their gazes the moment it whisked by.

The moment the doors sealed them in, relief washed over them.

“Did you manage to get a proper look at that shadow?” 

Chu Xiu nodded in affirmation.

Lu Yan had a notion brewing within, yet it remained unverified. Upon reaching the next floor, they opted to remain in the lift, hitting the button for the 8th floor.

The doors shut in that split second, and the shadow materialized once more.

With unease creeping up on them, they exchanged glances, each reflecting the other’s trepidation.

The shadow drew closer to the elevator, leaving no room for denial.

It wanted in!

If it succeeded, the consequences would be catastrophic.

The ride from the 11th to the 8th floor took only a few seconds, with neither uttering a word. Upon arrival, they hesitated, foregoing the button for a moment.

Counting the seconds down in their heads, they were flabbergasted when the entity failed to reappear despite having expected it to.

Chu Xiu hit the button for the 12th floor, the doors closing as the shadow streaked by once more. This time, it drew dangerously close, narrowly avoiding getting wedged in the narrow hallway.

“It appears we’re being coerced out. Want to investigate together?” Lu Yan proposed nonchalantly.

Oddly, he no longer felt petrified at this juncture. After all, he had lived in a world devoid of living or the dead. Even if it were the afterlife lurking beyond the doors, what of it? At least he could perceive the presence of death unequivocally.

As opposed to their present state…

Lu Yan cast a fleeting glance at Chu Xiu, wondering silently, ‘What would he be like if he were to die? Will he find happiness in this place, like the previous occupants did before him? Tsk, if that naively innocent smile shows up on his face…’

Chu Xiu immediately sensed the danger, and his body bristled with tension. Yet, as suddenly as it appeared, the sense of impending doom dissipated.

He fixed his gaze on the door.

It wasn’t a mirage.

What could be outside the door?

They had arrived on the 12th floor.

Chu Xiu stepped out.

**

‘When you see a person coming in later, you must not speak or look at her. Do you understand? If she takes notice of you, the consequences… may be even more ghastly than death!’ Wen Zheng Xin kept repeating Shi Yan’s warning in his head, and the more he thought about it, the more fear gripped him. He couldn’t help but tremble, especially as the elevator suddenly plunged downwards, as though the cable had snapped.

“Ding.”

They reached the negative 18th floor.

The woman’s light footsteps echoed as she approached the elevator door. When the doors slid shut again, the four remaining passengers exhaled with relief.

Unconsciously, cold sweat trickled down their faces, drenching them.

Just as the woman left, Wen Zheng Xin silently raised his head, attempting to peek through the crack in the door. However, what he saw made his eyes widen in disbelief.

Outside the door… a pool of blood flowed upside-down while the ground was engulfed in flames. In that instant, he seemed to glimpse the horrors of the 18 layers of hell that humans had imagined.

He was stunned and inadvertently knocked Ye Sheng Ke over.

Ye Sheng Ke cried in alarm, “Hey, what are you doing?”

Wen Zheng Xin was unable to answer. He collapsed to the ground, his face drained of colour, his eyes rolling back into his head. He muttered something incoherent, but no one could discern his words.

Shi Yan spun around. “What’s wrong with him?”

Nie Yun Zhen replied, “Perhaps he saw something he shouldn’t have seen.”

Ye Sheng Ke inquired, “Do we still need to keep him now?”

The woman had already departed. Per protocol, they pressed the elevator button in reverse, endeavouring to return to their original realm. They had no intention of venturing into another world.

“No need,” a voice echoed in the elevator.

“Alright,” Nie Yun Zhen replied as he and Ye Sheng Ke pulled the middle-aged man up reluctantly. As soon as the elevator doors opened, they pushed him out hard without even glancing at the pitch-black surroundings.

The doors closed again, and Nie Yun Zhen and Ye Sheng Ke sighed in relief. However, Shi Yan broke out in a cold sweat.

“Chu, Brother Chu,” her voice trembled, “did you ask them to throw him out?”

Chu Xiu shook his head, and Ye Sheng Ke and Nie Yun Zhen’s pale faces showed unease. If it wasn’t Chu Xiu, then who spoke?

As usual, Chu Xiu remained impassive, gazing intently at the crack in the elevator door.

**

The world he had just traversed…appeared to be ordinary?

Wen Zheng Xin staggered into an unfamiliar hallway, but he felt nothing. He giggled foolishly for a moment before breaking down in tears, burying his head in his hands.

For humans, touching the forbidden realm, even briefly, comes at a high cost. Those who are as muddled as Wen Zheng Xin are considered fortunate.

“What’s wrong, Mr Wen?” Due to an unknown cause, the hotel experienced a power outage. Two staff members patrolled the hallway with flashlights when they suddenly shone the light on him. Observing his frenzied appearance, they immediately approached with concern.

What the quartet in the elevator did not anticipate was that instead of randomly shifting into another world and returning to their original realm, they had inadvertently transported him back. And now, they were striving to return according to the rules.

However, the hotel was now in no better condition.

A frigid, horrifying, and contorted aura emanated deep within the earth.

“Today is an ominous day. Why is there a power outage and a sudden cold wave?” The manager grumbled. “Is the backup generator ready yet?”

“It is nearly ready. The technician reported a circuit malfunction,” a staff member replied.

“Is anyone using the elevator?” asked one of the guests.

“I don’t believe so. I just went downstairs and it wasn’t moving,” replied the other.

Unbeknownst to them, the four individuals still trapped inside the elevator had no idea of the sudden power outage in the hotel. The elevator was still illuminated, and it continued to operate as usual.

But perhaps fate had something else in store for them, as the elevator soon transported them to another realm.

Just then, two staff members approached the manager, supporting the incoherent Wen Zheng Xin, laughing and crying uncontrollably. The two staff members appeared anxious and distressed as they spoke to the manager.

“Manager, look at Mr. Wen,” one of them said.

The manager was taken aback. “What happened? What’s wrong with him?” he asked, crouching and waving his hand. “Mr. Wen, are you okay?”

“We don’t know. We found him upstairs like this. He was already in this state by the time we reached him,” one of the staff members said anxiously. “Manager, what should we do?”

“We’re all going to die…hahaha,” Wen Zheng Xin suddenly burst into laughter. “We’re all going to die. I can’t find it…we’re all going to die!”

With the lobby still dark, candles and flashlights were the only light sources. The sight of Wen Zheng Xin’s twisted face illuminated by the flickering candlelight was enough to startle the manager.

Is he truly losing his mind?

What could be causing this?

“Everyone, calm down. Let’s take Mr. Wen to his room and contact his family to come and get him,” the manager instructed, attempting to calm himself and the others. He clapped his hands, and the two staff members who had found Wen Zheng Xin promptly took him back to his room.

“Speaking of which, it’s quite terrifying. I think Mr. Wen may have been somewhat unstable to begin with. And that statue he lost…do you think it could be related?” one of the staff mused.

The other staff countered, “Come on, it’s the 21st century. Who still believes in such things?”

“But don’t you find it scary? What if ghosts do exist in this world?”

As they conversed, they arrived at Wen Zheng Xin’s room. They used his keycard to enter, then assisted him onto the bed. By now, Wen Zheng Xin had calmed down considerably and was no longer making a scene. He sat huddled at the head of the bed, repeating that he wanted to see his daughter.

At that moment, the hotel room was shrouded in darkness as Wen Zheng Xin sat on the edge of the bed, his companion’s features obscured by the shadows. Both of them felt a sense of relief as they believed they had completed their task, and they departed the room.

“I can’t do this. I feel so scared. My intuition has been accurate since childhood, and it’s telling me to leave,” one of them clutched the other’s arm, shivering.

“…Is it because of me?” The other person gazed down at her.

Suddenly, the hotel’s power surged back, illuminating the corridor with bright lights, and the two exchanged a brief glance.

The woman finally saw her companion’s face, and her expression froze in disbelief. She had been holding onto a faceless figure all along!

“Are you scared of me?” the person questioned as her face began to melt like hot wax, warping into a grotesque mask. She could barely recognize her own reflection in the eerie glow.

Frozen with fear, she remained motionless, forgetting to run.

A faint scream echoed in the corridor before it fell silent again.

Meanwhile, a schoolgirl in uniform climbed desperately up the elevator shaft, her eyes filled with hatred and cruelty. Her once-beautiful face contorted into a grotesque, unrecognizable mask.

Meanwhile, the four players remained trapped in the elevator.

“We can’t leave yet. We must complete the procedures, or we’ll be stuck in this false world,” Shi Yan reminded them.

“In this world, anything can happen. You may think you’ve returned home, but you might have entered someone else’s home in another world.”

The elevator doors opened as she spoke, revealing a familiar hotel corridor. A man was standing outside the door, and the four stared at him in shock.

The man also seemed surprised and muttered to himself before closing the elevator and waiting for the next one. As the doors slid shut, they heard him murmur, “Huh, strange. Why are so many people taking the elevator in the middle of the night?”

Chilled to the bone, the four of them shuddered in unison.

**

As the elevator doors slid open, Chu Xiu and Lu Yan entered an eerily deserted corridor. Despite the flurry of figures they’d glimpsed through the crack earlier, there wasn’t a soul in sight. The walls were yellowed and peeling, adorned with dusty oil paintings and childish scribbles. Piles of debris cluttered the floor, forcing them to navigate the space single-file.

“We should stick together,” Chu Xiu advised, aware of the potential danger of getting separated. Lu Yan grunted in agreement, though he hardly needed reminding to exercise caution.

Without warning, Chu Xiu was struck across the face. Stunned, he stumbled backwards, trying to discern the source of the attack. The space around him had turned pitch black, like the light had been snuffed out. Squinting into the darkness, Chu Xiu could see nothing, but he could sense the presence of another being. Someone or something was approaching him, moving with light footsteps.

The sound of its approach only served to tighten Chu Xiu’s nerves further. He could feel its emotions – nervousness, perhaps even fear. Was it a living person or something else entirely? He couldn’t be sure.

Finally, the figure stopped before him, its features indiscernible in the darkness. Chu Xiu tensed, unsure of what to do next.

Meanwhile, Lu Yan was growing increasingly anxious. Chu Xiu had disappeared without a trace, leaving him alone in this strange and unsettling place. He couldn’t even begin to fathom the rules that governed the ghosts’ movements or how many of them there were.

Should he continue exploring or wait for Chu Xiu to return?

Lu Yan turned his head, noticing that the elevator door remained ajar as though beckoning him to return. The display screen glowed faintly with a green hue, yet the floor numbers were muddled and indistinguishable.

Since he had already come this far, he might as well press on.

Lu Yan tried to steady his gait and tiptoed gingerly forward. However, the absence of Chu Xiu made him apprehensive. He paused, deliberated momentarily, and retraced his steps, going a different way. 

Should Chu Xiu make it back alive, he would ask him later.

But wait, what if the Chu Xiu who returned was not the genuine one?

As Lu Yan progressed, the hall gradually grew dimmer. It seemed an endless passageway with no rooms or windows. He couldn’t discern the source of the light that illuminated his path.

The farther he ventured, the more bloodstains he stumbled upon, while cobwebs became scanty, adding to his discomfort.

Even the spiders appeared to have deserted the place, indicating a severe shortage of surviving creatures ahead.

When he arrived at the end of the corridor, he spotted a staircase.

Lu Yan hesitated momentarily, then swivelled his head in the elevator’s direction before resuming his descent.

It didn’t matter anymore. He only had to survive. As long as he could survive, what did it matter which world he lived in?

With this mindset, Lu Yan descended the stairs at a leisurely pace.

As he reached the ground floor, he suddenly widened his eyes.

What was this vision?

How did he end up in his childhood home?

“Xiaolu, you’re finally coming down. You’ve been hiding in the attic all day long. Your entire body must be covered in dust, right?” Lu Yan’s mother emerged from the kitchen, holding a plate of scrumptious, steaming food.

“Mom?” Lu Yan’s voice quavered with uncertainty.

“What’s the matter?”

“Is there anything special happening?” Lu Yan looked around his old home, feeling perplexed and stuttering.

Everything was normal: sunlight, blossoms, a tidy house, his mother’s beloved teddy bear on the couch, and their dog frolicking around in delight.

Lu Yan still vividly recalled that during the first six months of the world’s bizarre outbreak, that tiny dog fell into the bathtub and shattered into fragments before their eyes.

Was all of it a mere illusion? Could every strange event be a figment of his imagination, conjured up while sleeping in the attic?

What is genuine and what is not?

Have all those years been nothing but an illusion?

“Xiao Lu, hurry and tidy up yourself. Your father will be back soon. If he sees you in this state, he will beat you again.”

“Dad is coming back?” Lu Yan inquired.

He gazed at the calendar.

He remembered well that his father should be out on a mission at this hour. His father was the sternest of all and despised his “slovenly” appearance.

What was he like back then? He lowered his head and looked down at himself, wearing torn clothes and jeans. He reached for a clump of hair and pulled it before his eyes. Indeed, it was dyed red.

It was utterly different from his later style.

Before, he feared his father coming back every time, as he would beat him upon sight, not with brutal force but with a beating that displayed his disappointment. Despite everything, the father-son relationship was far from good.

“By the way, Xiaolu, your father said he would introduce you to a comrade’s daughter this time. I heard she’s rather beautiful. They should be arriving soon, so hurry and tidy up to go!” Lu’s mother re-entered the kitchen, sticking half of her body out and brandishing a spatula in her hand.

Everything appeared so real.

However…

“Is everything truly real?” Lu Yanli asked abruptly.

“What is it that you consider real or false? What is going on with you today? Why are you acting so strange?” The woman appeared perplexed.

“It’s nothing.”

“You can tell your mother anything, go ahead and speak.”

Lu Yanli gazed at the woman’s face.

He had dreamed of and yearned for this moment countless times. Yet his recollections reminded him that it was all a sham. He had watched as the other person drenched herself in gasoline and set herself ablaze. This house… had exploded right before his eyes, leaving nothing but ruins.

Despite this house and the woman before him returning intact after just a few days, he knew that someone who had already passed away wouldn’t be the same upon their return.

“It’s all a deceit.” He resolutely turned around and ascended the stairs.

42 ☆ Twisted Space and Time

“Hey? What are you doing upstairs?” Mrs Lu queried with an edge in her voice.

Lu Yan disregarded her and made a beeline towards the attic, driven by a strong desire to return. The atmosphere in this place was too overwhelming. He’d rather face the phantoms outside his desolate apartment than confront the scenes of tranquillity that were masking everything that had happened before, making him feel compelled to remain recklessly.

As he ascended the stairs, he was taken aback. The attic was a modest space with no remarkable features, and the lengthy hallway and elevator he had used to get there had vanished without a trace.

He spun around suddenly, and Mrs Lu, clutching a ladle, followed him upstairs, taken aback by his expressionless face. “I told you to go back and change your clothes. What are you doing up here?” she queried, clearly bewildered.

Lu Yan stayed quiet, submitting to her as they descended the stairs together. He was yearning to uncover the enigma of this world.

And where was the way out?

Lu Yan meticulously searched the entire house but to no avail. He defied Mrs Lu’s request to change his clothes.

The more he becomes entangled with the world, the harder it becomes to extricate himself. He stood in the living room, scrutinizing his surroundings, trying to distinguish between the present and his recollections.

“What are you up to?” Mrs Lu’s voice interrupted his thoughts as she stepped out of the kitchen with a dish.

Lu Yan remained silent.

“What’s wrong with you today? You haven’t said a word. Is there something bothering you?” Mrs Lu’s concern was evident in her voice.

In fact, the previous Lu Yan, whose parents had gone to great lengths to name, had a completely different demeanour. He had always lived recklessly and fearlessly, relying on his wit and intelligence to act with impunity. However, unless necessary, he could go an entire day without speaking a word, even though his striking red hair still stood out. His demeanour had become subdued, like heavy ash residue after a fire had burnt out.

He looked directly at the image of his mother in his mind as if committing it to memory and then resolutely stepped out of the door, ignoring the frantic calls behind him and heading towards the street.

The owner of the house returned. His father’s car stopped in front of him.

Lu Yan took note of the route and increased his pace towards the exit without sparing a glance at his father.

“What do you think you’re doing, boy?!” His father’s voice trailed behind him.

But he had already walked away without turning back.

The street was still the same as he remembered, but the flow of people became less and less until no one was left. Lu Yan noted the route and walked straight for about a kilometre before stopping.

As soon as his father arrived, Lu Yan realized there was no turning back, but as he walked down the road, the world around him transformed into something increasingly strange. The bright sky gradually darkened, and the middle of the street lifted into a high arc, causing the buildings above to rise and fall. Even the ground developed intricate patterns.

Lu Yan could sense the eyes of the missing people fixed on him through the windows as though they had seen something unusual. Strangely, instead of fear, he felt a sense of relief. This world was indeed abnormal, not just a figment of his imagination.

Now his priority was to find a way out of this dangerous place. Even though it was relatively calm, the lingering dead air made him uneasy. Lu Yan quickened his pace, trying to find the entrance he had come from. However, before he could take two steps, the sky dimmed perceptibly.

The darkness was absolute, with no stars or moon, and he couldn’t even tell where he was going. Suddenly, lantern polls began to rise from the ground, along with paper lanterns, their thin paper trembling in the chilly wind. Childlike graffiti smiley faces were drawn on the white background, but their feeble light barely illuminated the dark night sky.

As Lu Yan walked on, the people hiding in their homes came out, their eyes filled with obsession and joy. They stared blankly at the white sky lanterns, vainly reaching out to grab them, but they were always out of reach. Only pairs of pale arms waved incessantly from the windows.

As he passed a small hill, a massive crack appeared in the road. The scenery had become so unfamiliar that Lu Yan had to choose one of the paths to continue on. The road had narrowed, and he had to avoid the arms reaching out from both sides, preventing the fanatics from scratching him.

Just then, a sound came from above, making Lu Yan stop.

Lu Yan struggled to articulate the otherworldly sound that had infiltrated his ears. It was as though some ethereal entity was attempting to communicate, yet the noise was composed of frequencies beyond human capability. It was a blend of rasping, icy notes, like being enveloped in a thick, impenetrable fog with only the occasional fragmented utterance discernible from a great distance.

This was a language beyond human comprehension.

Upon hearing this enigmatic noise, the throng of individuals already enraptured with the edifices lining the road became even more frenzied. Their cheering amplified with each undulation as if they could break through the brick walls before them.

Lu Yan stood at the street’s terminus, gazing stoically at the frenzied mob.

He had arrived at his destination, where an abandoned structure stood. It was challenging to discern in the darkness, but it was approximately two or three stories tall, with a black metallic entrance facing him. The door bore no designs, only rust and an extremely menacing, sinister atmosphere.

For now, Lu Yan did not push open the door. However, he moved closer to avoid the maniacal crowd that abruptly poured out of the building.

On the opposite side of the road, music resembling a music box tinkled. It was melodious and gentle, but even the most enchanting melody seemed eerie within the context of this unending night and creepy street.

Subsequently, an enormous white object materialized in the distance. The road was excessively long, and the night was interminable. Lu Yan could only perceive the thing from a distance, but it seemed to be a colossal spherical entity, it’s surface writhing.

As it drew closer, the crowd cheered again, dashing toward the object with all their might.

What was that?

As it approached nearer and nearer, Lu Yan gradually widened his eyes–

A colossal ball of flesh, composed entirely of human bodies, emerged on the street. It resembled a swarm of ants wrapping themselves into a ball in the face of a fire. The tangled mass of limbs rolled forward, and more people joined in, swelling the already massive ball. It grew in size until it towered above the buildings on either side.

The monotonous melody of a music box played on while the individuals trapped within the flesh ball continued to laugh. Their faces were contorted into silly grins as their bodies intertwined.

From a distance, the magnitude of this grotesque spectacle was apparent, and as it neared, the reality of its enormity was overwhelming.

Lu Yan gazed at the spectacle and discerned two familiar faces amid the horde. They were among the people caught up in a frenzy, their limbs entangled with those of strangers. The monstrosity was now within a hundred meters of him, and Lu Yan found himself frozen, unwilling to open the door and confront the beastly mass.

Despite the chaos, he remained composed. He surveyed the buildings nearby and discovered a narrow alleyway between two edifices on the brink of collapse from the rolling ball’s weight. He darted into the alley, and just as he entered, the immense flesh ball, accompanied by deafening laughter, rushed by. Faces atop the ball sneered down at him, but he remained resolute. Once the ball had passed, he emerged from the alley and sprinted towards another street on the opposite side of the collapsed houses.

As he ran, the pavement’s strange patterns became more apparent, and the road’s colour deepened into a dark red like an old bloodstain. He kept running for what seemed like an eternity until he reached the end of the road. He stopped, confronted by an obstacle he could not overcome.

There was no road ahead.

A precipitous slope loomed at the end of the road, with an incline of at least sixty or seventy degrees. Beyond it lay an opaque, inky expanse. Descending that slope blindly in the dark seemed like a recipe for disaster, as he couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t end up with broken bones.

However, the situation behind him was equally dire. The monster had rolled to the end of the road and rolled back again, closing in on him rapidly. Gritting his teeth, he flung himself down the slope, moving sideways desperately to avoid injury.

The sensation of tumbling head over heels was sickening, and Lu Yan struggled to shield his head from the impact. When he came to a halt, he was battered and bruised in several places. The slope gave way to a raised platform about half a meter high, and he plummeted onto it, hitting the ground hard.

His eyes widened in shock, but he didn’t waste any time. Springing up, he bolted out of there like a man possessed. He spotted a car parked nearby and, without a second thought, picked up a brick and smashed the windows. Terrified, the driver cowered in his seat as Lu Yan hauled him out and took off, flooring the accelerator and leaving a trail of dust in his wake.

The car hurtled down the road at breakneck speed, covering an incredible distance that spanned an entire city before abruptly stopping. But Lu Yan still couldn’t shake off the horror that had seized him. Since the world had been thrown into chaos, he hadn’t felt so out of control. This sense of unease was unfamiliar to him.

However, if his suspicions were correct if what he had witnessed was real, then…

Stepping out of the car, Lu Yan surveyed his surroundings slowly. His hunch had been correct. On the opposite side of the city stood a towering statue, its colossal size dwarfing the surrounding buildings like playthings. Even though he had driven for what seemed like an eternity, he could only make out the lower half of the statue, its upper regions obscured by a thick shroud of clouds.

The statue’s shadow cast the entire city in a perpetual darkness that never lifted.

So, the place where he had landed after his frantic escape was the foot of this gargantuan statue.

Lu Yan shuddered involuntarily. He was still in the other world. How was he ever going to find his way back?

In the presence of gargantuan objects, people are often struck by their insignificance; some may even experience extreme fear or fainting. Lu Yan was not afflicted with a fear of enormous monsters, yet he felt a sense of hopelessness deep within.

How could he discover any clues in the face of such a colossal statue? And where had the path he had taken led him?

As he stood there momentarily, unsure of what to do next, he noticed a long procession approaching from a distance. A woman dressed in a red robe led the group, her face exuding a serene and pious expression. Her followers wore either red or white robes and chanted in unison as they moved steadily forward. In no time, they arrived beside Lu Yan.

“Are you troubled, sir?” inquired the woman at the head of the group.

Lu Yan remained silent, but his demeanour betrayed his inner turmoil. Without waiting for a response, the woman gestured to someone behind her, who quickly brought forward a red statue. She gazed upon him with a compassionate and benevolent look. “Place your faith in my Lord, and you shall never be cast into the depths of despair, never be entangled in worldly affairs, and all your heart’s desires shall be fulfilled.”

The omniscient God? The deity whose name transcends the two worlds? Could they be one and the same?

Lu Yan’s eyes locked onto the red statue. It was identical to the one that Wen Zhengxin had lost.

A suspicion took root in Lu Yan’s mind, like a ray of sunlight piercing through the fog of his confusion after many days. He finally spoke up. “All wishes come true?”

Noticing his interest, the woman’s smile became even gentler. “Indeed, those who put their faith in my Lord shall have all their wishes granted.”

“What if I wished to bring someone back to life?” Lu Yan queried.

The woman’s smile widened slightly, losing some of its sanctity and taking on a hint of something more peculiar. “God can do anything,” she replied.

“What price must I pay to bring someone back from the dead?” Lu Yan pressed.

“Although my Lord is merciful, we must not be greedy or squander God’s grace. We must offer the Lord his favored offerings,” she replied, her smile turning upwards once more at the corners of her lips.

Lu Yan accepted the situation without further inquiry, thanked the woman, and turned to leave. The woman stood silently, watching as his figure gradually disappeared into the distance. She lingered there for a while longer before turning around and joining her group to continue spreading the gospel of the divine abode.

**

Meanwhile, Chu Xiu stood in the darkness, his senses heightened. As a figure approached him, he felt an eerie sense of familiarity. Gripping the knife tightly in his hand, he remained still, cautious not to make a sound. He knew that even the slightest noise could give away his position in the pitch-black.

As the figure drew nearer, Chu Xiu’s eyes adjusted, and he finally saw the man’s face. To his surprise, the man recognized him too, and they both froze in place.

Chu Xiu’s mind raced with countless thoughts, but he quickly regained his composure, realizing what to do. Without hesitation, he thrust the knife into the man’s neck, his movements swift and precise. As the man took his last breath, Chu Xiu gently lowered him to the ground.

The shock of what had just transpired left Chu Xiu momentarily dazed. He watched as the man whispered something to the beyond, his eyes wide with disbelief. But there was no time to dwell on it. Chu Xiu dragged the body aside and continued in the direction that the man had come from.

It wasn’t until he arrived at the factory at the Yin-Ming Road intersection that it hit him. This was where he had played the four-corner game! It all came rushing back to him in a split second, and he realized he had come full circle.

Had the darkness not obscured his features, someone would have noticed that the man lying on the ground and walking away were one and the same – Chu Xiu.

After playing two rounds, Chu Xiu immediately announced, “Game over!” according to the rules, and then bolted out of the building where he met Lu Yan, who had come to check on them by car.

Upon leaving, they saw Chu Xiu’s figure through the rearview mirror. He wasn’t a phantom, but the same Chu Xiu who had exited the elevator and fled the factory but hadn’t crossed paths with Lu Yan. He would have to find his way out alone.

The Chu Xiu who left with the three others the night before was also Chu Xiu! It was only the Chu Xiu who departed early, sensing that something was amiss.

The remaining individuals still engrossed in the Four Corners game within the room were still Chu Xiu! Bewildered, they continued to tread in circles, unaware they would soon fall prey to the new arrival.

Chu Xiu wasted no time attacking his former self upon sight. He reckoned that if his future self confronted a similar predicament, he would do the same. Only then could the Four Corners game persist, and he could escape and discover a genuine means of breaking the cycle of reincarnation.

Chu Xiu did not observe or comprehend the ever-growing heap of Chu Xiu corpses in the house.

No matter how Chu Xiu perished, there was always a never-ending supply of new Chu Xiu to take his place. Unless… he could avoid that elevator, regardless of whether he chose to accompany Lu Yan or his three companions, he would end up here.

Then, he would kill his past self, flee under his identity, and attempt a new strategy.

What he remained oblivious to was that every self he slayed would contemplate the omniscient and omnipotent God before dying and then make a wish, yearning to start anew and genuinely escape.

But God’s deals were never fair or just. “Starting over” could take many forms, like making time and space chaotic and observing ants crawling in a twisted Mobius ring to give Him a little amusement.

Sadly, Chu Xiu had yet to grasp this. He was solely focused on starting over and escaping the elevator game.

That night, he took Lu Yan captive into the elevator, repeatedly ascending and descending according to the regulations, until a peculiar woman entered.

Both parties refrained from speaking or moving, and later, they opted not to depart the elevator. But this, too, was a dead end.

As the figure outside the door approached, the gap in the elevator door slowly closed. When they reached the 12th floor, the hand crept into the shrinking opening.

Suddenly, the elevator plunged, and the hand was severed, thudding to the ground with a sickening thud, exposing a bloody cross-section.

The hand split open, revealing deep red and brownish crevices that quickly widened. Tentacles emerged, their blood-red hue pulsating as they twisted and turned with deadly intent. The tentacles effortlessly struck the two occupants of the elevator, ending their lives.

Before Chuxiu met his demise, he desperately wished to start anew. He returned to the same small black room, compelled to repeat the elevator game with Lu Yan as his captive. However, this time, he stepped out of the elevator.

“What should we do? Should we leave now?” Ye Sheng Ke’s voice trembled with fear as the frigid air inside the elevator intensified. He couldn’t stop shaking, feeling that his neck was getting heavier, and he could barely hold it up.

“Perhaps we shouldn’t,” Shi Yan said, trying to calm him down. “They say the world outside the elevator is a different realm, and once we leave, we may never return.”

Chuxiu nodded in agreement. “We cannot leave.”

Nie Yun Zhen’s heart raced with unease.

“I wonder what the other world looks like,” Nie Yun Zhen mused aloud. “Hey, have you guys noticed the old man? He seems suspicious. The odor emanating from his room is definitely that of a dead body, and his demeanor seems guilty. Maybe he’s the killer, but I’m not sure who he murdered.” 

Shi Yan fixed him with a stern glare. “Stop trying to provoke trouble.”

Nie Yun Zhen shrugged nonchalantly. “Don’t you find him odd though? I can’t shake off this feeling that something isn’t right.”

The putrid scent of decay had lingered in the room’s air, an odour that had become familiar to the players who had spent countless hours surrounded by blood and corpses. Though nobody mentioned it before, it was an unwritten rule to ignore the stench and continue the game.

Nie Yun Zhen broke the silence, and Shi Yan’s memory was jolted. With a shake of her head, she decided not to dwell on the unnerving odour any further. “Let’s talk about it outside. What good would it do to discuss it now?”

The elevator opened again, revealing a dark corridor emanating an aura of malevolence and doom.

Each time the elevator stopped, they remained silent, wary of drawing attention to themselves. Only when the doors closed would they dare to chat.

Shi Yan stood before Ye Sheng Ke, feeling an unexpected itch on her neck. Bewildered, she turned around and saw that Ye Sheng Ke’s hands were idle and still.

She immediately sensed something was off. Her voice trembled as she asked, “Did you touch my neck just now?”

Ye Sheng Ke’s neck was tilted at an almost burdensome angle as if he were carrying a heavy load. He tried to shake his head but couldn’t, so he spoke in a strained tone, “No, I didn’t.”

“Then what just touched me?” Shi Yan’s voice quivered in the elevator’s confined space.

The air suddenly grew colder, and Nie Yun Zhen’s voice faltered. “Please don’t frighten me on purpose. It’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking,” Shi Yan insisted. “I felt something on my neck.”

Chu Xiu interjected, “What kind of feeling?”

After contemplating, Shi Yan replied, “It was like…human hair.”

Upon the utterance of her words, a vivid image of a female ghost hanging upside down with her long hair brushing against her neck immediately came to Nie Yun Zhen’s mind. The thought frightened him, and he rubbed his arms for comfort. “Perhaps it’s just your imagination?” he suggested, trying to calm Shi Yan down.

However, as soon as he finished speaking, Shi Yan’s eyes widened, and she looked directly behind him. The other two followed suit, huddling together instantly, leaving Nie Yun Zhen standing alone in the centre of the elevator.

Slowly turning his head, he saw a ghastly pale face and the long hair he had imagined hanging down, brushing against his neck and causing an unbearable itch.

With a “ding”, the elevator door opened.

It goes without saying that they all rushed out.

43 ☆ The Omniscient God

The Elevator Game presented players with a daunting choice: remain within the confines of the elevator or embark on an exploration of unknown terrain. Though they were well aware of the precarious nature of the game, they had little choice but to proceed with caution.

As soon as the four of them stepped out, they suddenly stopped. The corridor before them was long, narrow, and chillingly dim, with an amorphous atmosphere that evoked the feeling of traversing through a hazy, grey mist.

“Stay close and be mindful not to lose sight of each other,” Chu Xiu advised. “It’s best if we cling to each other’s clothing.”

The passageway was too cramped to accommodate their side by side, so they formed a single file and clung to the person before them. Chu Xiu led the way, followed by Shi Yan, Nie Yun Zhen, and Ye Sheng Ke, who hastened their pace.

“Remember, it’s easy to lose one’s way in another world, so we mustn’t separate and must keep track of the path that leads us back,” Chu Xiu reiterated, quickening his stride.

Their predicament was such that they had no other recourse. The female ghost they encountered in the elevator could catch up with them at any moment, and remaining in the elevator indefinitely was not an option. Therefore, Chu Xiu devised a plan to lure the ghost out and lose themselves in this strange world, hoping to return to the elevator eventually.

But why did the corridor seem to grow eerier by the minute?

The walls, which had a base colour of white, were barely visible through the thick layer of dust that coated them. Scrawled across the borders was a series of drawings that resembled the work of a child’s hand. Chu Xiu glanced at them fleetingly before resuming his march.

The drawings grew more bizarre and unsettling as they progressed deeper into the passage. They mostly depicted twisted faces and limbs with grotesque expressions. The use of dark colours in the palette made them all the more unsettling.

Chu Xiu glanced behind him, and his gaze alighted on the three figures trailing him. At the sight of them, he felt a modicum of relief and proceeded to lead them forward.

Softened by time and wear, the floor yielded underfoot like decaying flesh. Yet despite the soft surface, the three of them pressed on, their footsteps resolute and unwavering. 

Breaking the silence, Shi Yan whispered, “This corridor seems never-ending.”

“Indeed,” Nie Yun Zhen murmured in agreement, his voice pitched low. The three had agreed to speak every few minutes to prevent anyone from getting lost and maintain a semblance of humanity in their grim situation.

They walked on, and their hushed conversation was broken only by the sound of their steps until it was time for Ye Sheng Ke to speak. But when his turn came, there was only silence.

Nie Yun Zhen’s heart raced as he realized the hand holding onto his jacket was icy cold. The footsteps behind him were soft and insubstantial, like moth wings fluttering. He tried to remain calm, but fear seized him as the hand crept up towards his neck, four fingers digging into his skin.

“Xiaoye, please stop poking me. It hurts,” Nie Yun Zhen said, his voice feigning casualness, hoping to mask the terror that gripped him.

There was no response from behind him. The hand continued its slow advance up his neck, sending a chill coursing through his veins. He reached out to poke Shi Yan’s back, trying to keep his tone even. “Wait a moment, I need to tie my shoelaces,” he said, hoping the excuse would give him a chance to assess the situation.

In reality, none of them wore shoes with laces. But the ruse gave him a moment’s respite, allowing him to take stock of their surroundings and formulate a plan. The stakes were high; one false move could mean the difference between life and death.

The words had scarcely left his lips when he feigned a bow to the ground, pretending to tie his shoelaces in an elaborate knot. All the while, he used the opportunity to swivel his head slightly, and there, looming before him, he spotted a ghastly apparition, a wraith as white as snowflakes and seemingly crafted out of white paper, hovering weightlessly on its feet, standing mere inches behind him! Its pallid hand still bore the traces of a symbolic gesture.

Without a doubt, Ye Sheng Ke had vanished into thin air.

Nie Yun Zhen’s heartstrings constricted suddenly. The ghost’s ability to abduct Ye Sheng Ke unnoticed was genuinely petrifying.

He averted his gaze and faked tying his shoelaces, buying time to think. With lightning-fast reflexes, his mind raced.

What could he do? The corridor was too narrow, and he stood third in line. Two people blocked his path ahead, so there was no way he could dart past them unobserved. And if he let them go first, wouldn’t he wind up the last man standing?

And where had Ye Sheng Ke gone?

To avoid catching the attention of the spectre behind him, Nie Yun Zhen had to remain composed, even though he quivered with fear. He rose gradually, clutched Shi Yan’s coat, and steadied himself.

Simultaneously, the ghost behind him snatched his coat.

“Let us proceed,” Nie Yun Zhen asserted firmly, refusing to betray his composure.

Hold on a moment! Why is Shi Yan’s dress hem as light and flimsy as a sheet of paper?

As Nie Yun Zhen watched in astonishment, Shi Yan and Chu Xiu, who led the way, swivelled slowly around. Their faces were now entirely akin to papier-mâché dolls: pallid skin, scarlet lips, their heads spun 180 degrees, grinning maniacally at Nie Yun Zhen. “What’s the matter?” they chorused.

The paper doll behind him sidled closer, placed a hand on his shoulder, and a mouth resembling a narrow slit opened and shut, speaking in Ye Sheng Ke’s voice.

“What’s the matter?”

These were the last words Nie Yun Zhen heard before blacking out.

If Lu Yan were present, he would have identified that the paper dolls resembled those they had encountered in Red River Village. But he was absent, so Nie Yun Zhen plunged deeper into the unknown realm.

“This passageway seems endless.” After an eternity of walking, Shi Yan could not contain her exasperation.

Perhaps it was her senses deceiving her, but as she pressed forward, the simple sketches on the wall seemed to take on their own life. She could even discern the strong emotions the artist imbued in the images. The eyes in each portrait conveyed a message of bitter resentment and malevolence that seemed to fixate on her.

‘These paintings are most unnerving…’ thought Shi Yan to herself.

She turned her head to confront one of the images, feeling an icy shiver dance down her spine. As she rubbed her arms and averted her gaze, she suddenly noticed that the other three were nowhere to be seen!

She was the only one left, standing in the hallway, staring into the inky blackness. Her fear was so intense it was as though her very soul had fled her body.

How how could this be happening?

She couldn’t fathom how they could have vanished without a trace. She had yet to encounter any ghosts during this mission that could dispatch multiple people simultaneously. That meant the only one in danger was herself.

Stay calm, stay calm. Shi Yan stifled the urge to scream and concentrated on thinking clearly. She remembered looking at one of the paintings before they parted ways. Was that the key?

This time, Shi Yan fought against the compulsion to gaze at the paintings and instead lowered her head to stare intently at her shoes. She slowed her pace and listened intently, trying to catch a whisper of the other people’s footsteps.

Shi Yan was left disappointed yet relieved that despite her strained attempts at listening, all she heard were her own footfalls. There was no trace of the other three to be found.

‘Where… Where am I?’ 

It was then that she heard the mysterious sound of rustling from all directions. She searched the surroundings with bewilderment, but the excessively dark environment hindered her sight, causing her to nearly black out several times due to the abundance of paintings on the walls.

The paintings grew increasingly dense, but the style remained rough. However, that face…that face was evident!

Somehow, when she saw that face, Shi Yan’s heart became overwhelmed with an unidentifiable feeling of discomfort, irritation and depression. She instinctively avoided the face and quickened her pace, soon finding herself running away from it altogether.

‘But where should I run to?’ she asked herself, only to find that the corridor had no end.

With a firm clench of her teeth and a resolute expression, Shi Yan made a tough decision and abruptly spun around, determined to run back the way she came. In horror tales, the protagonist was often warned against such actions lest they glimpse some monstrous apparition lurking behind them. Nevertheless, Shi Yan cared little for such cautionary tales.

Surely, the female ghost that haunted the elevator had been lured away by now, right? Even if she returned to the scene of the supernatural encounter, it shouldn’t pose a problem. But what greeted her was sheer shock and despair: the path ahead grew narrower by the second!

‘This is not good! The corridor is shifting!’

As soon as she realized this, the faces on both sides of the hallway began to manifest in greater detail, their skull-like features becoming increasingly pronounced. Their malevolent expressions bore down upon her from every angle, and the bumps on the walls took on a menacing quality.

The walls were drawing closer and closer, and no matter where she turned, there was no escape. She sprinted forward desperately to reach the elevator, but to her cruel dismay, the walls closed in, leaving her trapped just ten meters away.

“No!” Shi Yan uttered a piercing scream, her hands flailing as she attempted to push through the narrowing gap. At that moment, it didn’t matter if the grotesque creatures with one-eyed heads sank their teeth into her flesh; all she cared about was escaping with her life.

However, the elevator was now beyond her reach.

“Mother…” she gasped, her final word before the walls echoed with a faint “creak, creak,” the macabre sound of starving mouths devouring their feast.

An enormous gush of fresh blood sprayed forth, only to be swiftly absorbed by the walls, which promptly resumed their original state, unfolding slowly on either side.

“Remember, we’ll wait outside for a while, and when five minutes are up, we’ll promptly return to the real world by taking the elevator,” Chu Xiu advised.

After several minutes leading his trio of teammates, he abruptly halted and prepared to hold their ground temporarily.

With several tasks, they had no leisure to amble through the otherworld. Furthermore, if they failed to finish the next game by midnight the following day, the retribution that awaited them would be far more frightful than death!

When he finished speaking, however, there was no response behind him. To his astonishment, Chu Xiu whirled around to find no one standing behind him!

Who was it that tugged at his sleeve just moments before?

Without further thought, Chu Xiu spun around and darted back in the direction he had come from, only to pivot once again after running for a short while.

The reason became evident as Chu Xiu gazed upon a figure in a school uniform, its form contorted and its bones realigned, crawling towards him on the ground. The girl dragged a long trail of blood behind her, and though her crawling speed was not particularly quick, she closed the distance between them with each passing moment. The putrid scent of decay emanated from her form.

Chu Xiu’s heart sank as he realized her identity – the crawling girl was none other than Wen Qing.

After Ghost Granny had killed her, Wen Qing had prayed fervently to the gods for a chance to start anew, to right the wrongs she had committed and save everyone. Her wish had been granted by the almighty god, but at a cost – an entire hotel’s worth of lives was to be sacrificed.

To ensure her survival, Wen Qing hid in the elevator and killed everyone who crossed her path. However, she had never anticipated that her father would be among the victims. Upon discovering her father’s decapitated head amidst the piles of corpses, Wen Qing realized the gravity of her actions – the god would not grant her the same wish twice.

However, her father had already pleaded to god – to bring his daughter back to life. The price he had paid was steep, the sacrifice of all the living beings that his daughter held dear.

Wen Qing’s black cat, grandmother, and Yun Qian had all fallen victim to his cruel and ruthless hand. Yet, he spared himself, the perpetrator behind these atrocities.

In a twisted turn of fate, Wen Qing was the one to complete the sacrifice. The elevator, filled with both victim and perpetrator, plummeted to their deaths. However, Wen Qing was granted a second chance at life, resurrected from the dead.

But the trauma she endured had taken its toll. Her memories were lost to her, and she could only rely on her friend to navigate the familiar yet unfamiliar street of Yin-Ming Road. Death seemed to follow her, dying and resurrecting again and again. 

Little did Chu Xiu and his entourage comprehend that by randomly selecting two pedestrians instead of Wen Qing, they could have evaded the subsequent events spawned by the malevolent deity, and their lives would not have been thrown into chaos.

Wen Qing and Yun Qian’s appearance on Yin-Ming Road had been carefully orchestrated, a plan to break the game cycle. The only way out was to refuse to play along with the spirits.

Yet, it was too late for them. The Four-Corner and Elevator games were traps designed to ensnare unsuspecting victims in a vortex of time and space. Surviving one round only increased the difficulty of the next, as the challengers artificially increased the stakes.

Chu Xiu sprinted through the narrow corridors, his heart pounding. The twists and turns of the labyrinthine hallways slowed him down, making it difficult to outrun the danger behind him. A feeling of dread crept over him as he ran, a sense that something was amiss. He heard the scratching sound of something creeping behind him, but when he turned around, the sound stopped. Suddenly, he felt a presence above him and swiftly crouched to the ground, barely avoiding the ghost’s sharp claws.

His eyes widened as he saw the ghostly figure crawling up the wall and onto the ceiling. He remembered how it had chased him earlier, moving with incredible speed and agility.

Now empty and lifeless, Wen Qing’s eyes were fixed on him with a resentful and vicious gaze. She looked like a broken doll, her bones shattered, and her skin as white as a sheet. Yet, somehow, she managed to crawl onto the ground and move with lightning speed along the ceiling.

Panic rising within him, Chu Xiu frantically searched for a way out. He ran to the end of the corridor, where he spotted a staircase. Without hesitation, he slid down the railing, leaving the ghost behind.

He landed with a thud and quickly assessed his surroundings. To his surprise, he found himself standing on a bustling street. His dishevelled appearance starkly contrasted with the well-dressed crowds that passed by him, barely sparing him a glance. Two girls, however, secretly took his picture as they walked past.

Chu Xiu remained motionless, standing still, his heart racing with a mix of fear and curiosity. He glanced back at the empty space where the staircase and the hotel had stood just moments ago. As he turned his attention back to the street, a group of people dressed in red and white robes caught his eye. Their unnerving gaze was fixed on him with an unsettling intensity.

At the sight of this group of people, Chu Xiu’s brow furrowed. He was familiar with the cult that proclaimed itself as all-knowing and all-powerful and worshipped an allegedly omniscient god, but his knowledge was limited.

Chu Xiu made his way on the pavement, creating a path they could pass through without drawing their attention. However, as the group approached, the woman leading them abruptly stopped before him, scrutinizing his face. “Excuse me, sir, do you believe in the existence of an all-knowing and all-powerful god in this world?”

Chu Xiu had no desire to converse, but the woman persisted, beckoning her followers to bring the idol forth with a serene and devout smile.

That idol…it was unmistakably familiar!

“Believe in my Lord, and you shall have eternal life. My Lord knows everything and can do anything.”

“Is that so?” Chu Xiu replied. “Then, can it transport me back?”

At his question, the woman’s gentle smile grew even warmer. “My Lord can do anything, but only in exchange for something of equal value.”

“Equal value exchange?” Before Chu Xiu could enquire further, someone in the distance called out his name loudly. Chu Xiu didn’t respond immediately; instead, he turned to look.

Ye Sheng Ke was standing on the opposite side of the road, waving at him, looking completely at ease. If only his shadow on the ground wasn’t a bit too long.

Chu Xiu’s steps, which were initially meant to rush over, abruptly stopped. His mind was filled with doubt.

At that moment, a different call reached his ears. “Chu Xiu, over here.”

Chu Xiu spun around and looked up to the second-floor balcony, where he caught sight of Lu Yan, the person he had been searching for.

Without hesitation, Chu Xiu bid farewell and rushed towards the stairs, taking them two at a time. By the time he reached the second floor, the long queue below had vanished.

“Have you discovered anything?” Lu Yan asked, his tone blunt.

“Have you ever heard of the Omnipotent Cult?” Chu Xiu replied.

Lu Yan naturally had. 

“I intend to make a wish to Him, to see if I can escape my current predicament,” Chu Xiu murmured to himself.

Lu Yan didn’t find this odd. After all, he had made a similar wish to the all-knowing god not long ago.

44 ☆ The way to life is ……

“What do you plan to wish for It?” asked Lu Yan.

“It” in Chinese sounds the same as “He”. Therefore, Chu Xiu didn’t notice anything wrong with Lu Yan’s description. On the contrary, his tone sounded quite pious.

Chu Xiu looked out the window. The scenery outside was no different from usual. The streets were clean and tidy under the sunshine, and vehicles came and went, bustling with prosperity.

“I still have some thoughts to sort out,” Chu Xiu muttered. “I feel like I’ve overlooked some crucial information.” He changed the subject, “How about you? If it were you, would you make a wish?”

Lu Yan smiled bitterly, “Do I have any other choices now?”

Indeed, there was no difference for them, whether it was a ghost or a god. Whatever they wanted to do, ordinary people couldn’t resist.

“But I always feel…” Chu Xiu hesitated.

He always felt that everything was not that simple. Compared to the bloody and ferocious killings by ghosts and monsters, the so-called “wishes” of gods gave him a chilling sense of danger.

From Wen Qing to them, everything seemed to be… under the control of that “god.” Who else had made a wish to the god? What price did they pay? Chu Xiu had no idea.

Lu Yan stared at him and suddenly said, “Did you make a wish to it?”

Although his tone was questioning, it was more confident. Chu Xiu was surprised and blurted out, “How did you know?”

“I just casually asked, but you admitted it.” In fact, it was suspicious enough that Chu Xiu did not directly deny it because of the restraint of that “god.”

“What did you wish for?” Lu Yan asked, his gaze fixed on Chu Xiu’s face, sharp as a knife. “As you can see, it’s difficult for us to live with our strength; only cooperation gives us a chance. So, you’d better not hide anything anymore. Similarly, I will tell you what I know.”

Chu Xiu remained silent and asked, “What else do you know?”

“It depends on what you want to know, one for one.”

Chu Xiu asked, “How did you know I made a wish?”

“Because I made a wish too. What was your wish?”

Chu Xiu expressed his desire, “I wish I could come back to life one day earlier, but now it doesn’t seem like a good wish.” Did he only yearn to go back one day because his subconscious hoped to avoid the first day of the game? He inquired, “What’s your wish?”

Lu Yan replied, “I will disclose it when the moment is right, but I can barter it with other information.”

After confirming that the other party was not intentionally deceiving him, Chu Xiu agreed to the deal. “One for three.”

“Agreed.” Lu Yan pondered for a moment. “First, Ye Sheng Ke has been ensnared by a female ghost that can be seen through devices such as cameras. Second, Wen Qing and Wen Zhengxin both have a statue of a god, and it is uncertain whether it is the same. Given their circumstances, where they have died but have been reborn, it is reasonable to suspect that they have been reanimated by making a wish to an evil god. The current cost is unknown. Third, for unknown reasons, Wen Zhengxin killed Yun Qian, his daughter’s best friend, and it is suspected that it may be connected to Wen Qing.”

Chu Xiu interrupted, “Wait, you said Yun Qian was murdered by Wen Zhengxin? When?”

“Yes, he kept Yun Qian’s body in his closet in his room.”

“How do you know?”

“I witnessed it.” After identifying Wen Zhengxin, Lu Yan infiltrated the room and discovered Yun Qian’s body in the closet. He managed to take the statue away.

The video that Nie Yun Zhen watched later was intentionally edited by Lu Yan, who replaced the statue on Wen Zhengxin’s bedside table. He desired to observe what would occur when this group did the task with the statue.

However, Chu Xiu did not need to know this.

“But then…” Chu Xiu realised something was amiss. “The cause and effect are completely out of line. Isn’t this an endless loop?”

“What else?” Lu Yan questioned, “Is it really so benevolent?”

Chu Xiu lowered his head and pondered for a moment. Lu Yan placed his hand on Chu Xiu’s shoulder and gazed straight into his eyes, which seemed even more profound. He asked in a voice with a hint of temptation, “Tell me, what round are you, Chu Xiu? And how did you arrive here?”

Chu Xiu suddenly felt strange, as if the secret he should have guarded was not that crucial. The person before him was reliable, so why not confide in him? If he kept concealing it, he might die many more times.

“It’s the fifth time,” Chu Xiu responded. “The first round…was when we played the Four Corners game. We were in the factory at the end of Yin—Ming Road’s crossroads. I died inexplicably inside. So, I prayed to come back to life one day earlier. 

— The second round ended without a hitch, and the apple-peeling game did not incur any losses. We returned to the hotel for another round of the elevator game. I entered the elevator with three others for my second attempt, only to suffer a tragic death. In the third round, I sought you out as my companion for the elevator game. This time, we chose to leave the elevator but inexplicably found ourselves transported to another realm. As I faced certain death, I pleaded to be revived.

— In the fourth round, I returned to the factory, where we played the four corners game. There, I confronted and killed my past self, finally realising who had killed me during the first round. Despite surviving the ordeal, I still perished when I decided not to leave the elevator. I followed the correct path on the fifth and final round and arrived here.” Chu Xiu felt the weight of their stare and recounted his tale.

That was why he wasn’t surprised to see Lu Yan, his companion from the previous round’s elevator game, in this new world.

Lu Yan withdrew his hand from Chu Xiu’s shoulder, his gaze retreating. “I understand.”

Chu Xiu sensed something amiss and refocused. “Did you use psychological manipulation on me?” His eyes betrayed a hint of concealed anger, but this display of emotion was barely distinguishable from none for Lu Yan.

No one would willingly let others tamper with their mind. Yet, Lu Yan was unconcerned with Chu Xiu’s adverse reaction and replied calmly, with a touch of sarcasm. “Did you request my permission at the beginning? It’s only now that you’re upset.”

Chu Xiu quickly reined in his emotions and apologised. “I’m sorry.” He then inquired, “How many rounds have you experienced?”

Lu Yan considered before shaking his head. “I cannot say.” He was uncertain how he had dealt with the repeated deaths and revivals that Chu Xiu had undergone. Still, the outcome was unlikely to be favourable.

“You…”

“But you can try another method. Try returning to the beginning and taking a different path; see if you can solve the problem from the root.”

“Are you so certain that we will die here?”

“Indeed, it is predetermined,” declared Lu Yan. “Though I cannot fathom your desire to seek death, don’t bring me along.”

Taken aback, Chu Xiu inquired, “Do you know a solution then?”

“I?” Lu Yan’s lips barely moved, forming a cold smile. “You need not concern yourself with that.”

Before Chu Xiu could ponder further, Lu Yan interjected, “Wait. Let us make a wish together later. Try to go back to the beginning and steer clear of Wen Qing and her companion Yun Qian! And stay far away from that hotel.”

“Are you suggesting that the path to survival is…” Chu Xiu began to realise as if waking from a hazy dream. 

“Indeed. Otherwise, where did your belief in a wish-granting god originates? If you fail to make a wish for revival, you will not perish due to it,” explained Lu Yan.

Although he had only attempted it once, he had discerned everything he had observed and heard with remarkable clarity.

Fully alert, Chu Xiu murmured, “So, that’s how it is….”

Their mission demanded that they entice two strangers to play together on the first day. They came across Wen Qing and Yun Qian on the Yin—Ming Road and assumed they were the lifelines arranged by the task.

However, by selecting them, they had unwittingly chosen a dead end. Wen Qing and Yun Qian were ensnared in a peculiar cycle of praying to the gods for resurrection and then dying repeatedly. They were forcibly embroiled in it.

This was the task’s trap. They had fallen into it from the outset, and since they had misjudged the danger of the game on the first day, the ghosts were drawn to Yun Qian. Like that, they believed to be safe and continued to make mistakes. 

It was akin to a Mobius strip. Once they entered it, no matter how they chose, they would inevitably arrive at the same conclusion.

When Chu Xiu spoke aloud, Lu Yan added, “Do you believe it’s only a Mobius strip? It…” Lu Yan hesitated before using an ambiguous reference, “can also overlap all the consequences of our choices, putting all our selves from different times and spaces together.”

Thus, the more times they made a wish, the more opportunities they had to start anew and the more “other worlds” they created. It appeared that they had countless opportunities. However, once they entered the other world through the elevator game, they would become lost and unable to find a way out, ultimately leading to their demise.

The only way to break the cycle was to abstain from making a wish from the beginning! To refrain from starting over!

“Understood,” Chu Xiu nodded, hoping to break the cycle fundamentally. After reflection, he asked, “What about you?”

Lu Yan gazed out the window and uttered, “I told you not to fret about it.”

As a person of few words, Chu Xiu promptly concluded, “Since it’s settled, we’ll go our separate ways.”

As he opened his eyes again, he found himself seated in the backseat of a car, the road ahead disappearing into a bleak, desolate landscape. He took a deep breath, attempting to calm himself down. He had discovered a crucial clue. Had they not taken this choice, they wouldn’t have been stuck in an endless horror cycle. Chu Xiu knew that if they had kept Wen Qing and Yun Xi alive or managed to avoid them, the mission wouldn’t have spiralled out of control.

“Hold on, we need to find two people here,” Chu Xiu suddenly said, surprising his companions.

“Are you certain this is the place, Brother Chu?” one of them asked, uncertain.

“Let’s just find them,” Chu Xiu replied, his response vague. His companions had no choice but to search for the people he had asked for.

After some time, the car resumed its journey with two unconscious figures in the backseat. As they drove, two familiar young ladies appeared before them. This time, they passed by Wen Qing and Yun Xi, and Ye Sheng Ke was affected by the ghost-summoning game during the night.

Later, due to Chu Xiu’s persistent insistence, they moved to a different hotel. Away from the influence of the “god,” the following games were not as arduous.

It was because, previously, Wen Qing had to tail them, thinking they had killed Yun Xi. But without the interference of Yun Xi and Wen Qing, they managed to pass the elevator game unscathed.

As Chu Xiu left, Lu Yan overheard his voice filled with hope, “All-knowing and all-powerful god, please let me…let me survive.”

That was his only wish.

At a particular hotel in the city centre, Chu Xiu waited outside the door for an extended period until his target finally appeared. He felt excited and followed the man for a while before approaching him. “Excuse me, sir, would you like to play a game?”

Lu Yan’s body tensed up.

The reaction to facing the barrel of a gun is always the same, no matter who you are. Recalling the surveillance layout in the parking lot, Lu Yan realised that the blind spot they were in was not easily visible. 

He asked, “What game?”

“Don’t worry, nobody dies. If you cooperate, your life will be safe,” Chu Xiu replied.

Lu Yan raised an eyebrow sceptically. “Is that so?”

Before he could react, Chu Xiu sensed that something was off. The gun pressed against his waist was removed and thrown out of reach. Then, he felt a heavy blow to his head, causing him to collapse onto the ground.

Lu Yan grabbed his neck and tightened his grip slowly. “Didn’t I tell you? If you’re looking for death, don’t bother me again.”

He had made a wish to the so-called omniscient god, but the price he paid was considerable. “You remember?” he gasped.

Lu Yan hit him with his elbow again and stood up with a cold face. “What if I remember? What if I don’t? Don’t drag me down with you if you want to die.”

“Wait! Let’s talk.” Chu Xiu fought through the pain and stood up from the ground. “I’ve been investigating you for the past few days. Did you join the so-called omniscient god cult?”

Lu Yan nodded in response, refusing to say anything.

“I know a lot about this religion. If you participate, I’ll provide you with information. What do you say?” Chu Xiu didn’t believe that Lu Yan joined the omniscient god cult because of his beliefs; he must have had other motives.

Lu Yan sneered. “Do you take me for a fool? At first, you didn’t even know what the omniscient god was. Now you say you know a lot about it?”

“I have my ways of gathering information. I will give you the information in about two or three months,” Chu Xiu explained.

Lu Yan knew what he meant. He said two to three months, but it was probably just the frequency of his missions. After a long pause, he finally nodded in agreement.

As they walked, Chu Xiu filled Lu Yan in on the past few days’ events. When Ye Sheng Ke played games that day, nothing significant happened. But the next day, when everyone went to call him, they found that he had died in bed. His body was covered in blood, and deep purple bruises were on his neck.

“So now there are only three people left, and I must find one more,” Chu Xiu explained.

“Hmm, what game do you intend to play this time?” inquired Lu Yan.

Chu Xiu found it difficult to reply upon hearing the question.

“At midnight, at the crossroads of the underworld road, we shall set up a bowl of rice, light three incense sticks and insert them into the rice. After they burn out, mix the ashes with the rice and eat it,” he eventually revealed.

Lu Yan: “…”

Chu Xiu: “You have already agreed.” This game was hard to find players for; if an ordinary person consumed it and vomited, it could summon some strange events. After pondering it, it was better to play with someone familiar.

Lu Yan: “No problem.” He glanced outside the window and suddenly revealed a creepy smile. “Incense ashes are nothing…I have even tasted bone ashes.”

45 ☆ Mixed Rice with Incense Ash

In just one sentence, the temperature inside the car dropped several degrees. After a moment of silence, Chu Xiu spoke up, his voice laced with uncertainty, “What you just said… is it true?”

Lu Yan, donning his usual expressionless facade, lowered his gaze and appeared to be deep in thought. After a brief pause, he responded nonchalantly, “Believe it or not, it’s up to you.”

Their journey led them to another hotel, where Nie Yun Zhen and Shi Yan eagerly greeted them as soon as they parked. It was clear they were intrigued by Lu Yan’s presence.

They couldn’t help but wonder about their connection. How long had they known each other? Had he been fooled into thinking that they were trustworthy companions? But as they observed Lu Yan’s shrewd demeanour, they dismissed the possibility.

Ignoring their curious stares, Lu Yan nodded in their direction, but didn’t bother to initiate a greeting. He had accomplished his goal anyway.

Since Chu Xiu promised to investigate the Omniscient God Sect for him, Lu Yan had been subtly reinforcing his psychological suggestion. He had initially set his sights on An Xing Yu, but they had parted ways abruptly in Red River Village before he could fully manipulate his mind.

However, Chu Xiu seemed like a better candidate. He was older and had more experience, which meant he was more likely to survive longer than An Xing Yu. Lu Yan had been searching for so long that he was losing hope. But encountering people like Chu Xiu occasionally gave him glimpses of the ordinary world before the mutations occurred. He refused to give up.

The group spent the rest of the day running errands and buying supplies. Lu Yan requested that the boss pack four bowls of rice mixed with fragrant ash for dinner. It was also known as dead man’s rice, and according to urban legend, it was believed to help lost spirits find their way home.

Eating this rice was also said to make seeing dead people easier and even make one a ghost. The group found themselves on Yinming Road, where yin and yang supposedly converged, adding to the ominous atmosphere.

As they strolled along the street, the sun began to set. Suddenly, a black cat leapt from a tree and landed in Lu Yan’s arms. A missing cat noticed hanging from the tree had the same photo as the cat in his arms. It appeared to be stepping on his elbow as if seeking refuge.

Wen Qing was the contact person, and she and her group appeared trapped in an endless cycle. The black cat from a few days ago had returned, just like before, and was now standing before them. 

Shi Yan’s heart melted at the sight of the feline, and she asked, “Do you want to send it back?”

Chu Xiu led the way, carefully avoiding Wen Qing and Yun Qian’s deadly grasp, but Shi Yan couldn’t resist being kind to the cat. Lu Yan shook his head, saying, “Let’s not waste time.” He placed the cat on the ground, put the student ID back into its mouth, and patted it on the backside. “You can find your own way back.”

The cat disappeared into the foliage, evading Shi Yan’s hand and reaching to pet it. It was best not to search for the cat. Wen Qing’s resurrection required a vital condition: the cat had to be dead after killing everyone in the hotel, including Wen Zheng Xin. This was a possible solution to breaking the cycle.

As they waited for nightfall, the surroundings grew gloomier, like a pot of undiluted ink, and the trees became more abundant, but there were no verdant leaves to be found. Finally, they arrived at Yin—Ming Road, which they planned to cross after midnight.

Shi Yan sat in the back seat, holding a thermos filled with rice and gazing out the window. She thought of Ye Sheng Ke and sighed softly, ‘Little leaf is gone… How much longer will I last?’ She was tired of the prolonged, hopeless darkness that awaited her in the future. Her desire for life prevented her from picking up the knife and ending it all, but she longed for a way out.

Nie Yun Zhen noticed Shi Yan’s sombre expression in the mirror and switched to a more upbeat song, saying, “Alright, we can’t bring the dead back to life, so let’s focus on what’s essential right now.”

Shi Yan took a deep breath, trying to snap out of her grief and fear of death. Nie Yun Zhen’s words left a lasting impact on her. Why choose death when life is an option? Those were Ye Sheng Ke’s words of solace to her, and she knew he was right. She had to keep fighting, no matter how hopeless the situation seemed.

Can the dead truly be resurrected?

The cold seeped into their bones as the night wore on, and the heavy frost and dew finally gave way to midnight. Nie Yun Zhen had started the car and was driving through the darkness when the crossroads came into view.

“Shall we begin?” Nie Yun Zhen asked tentatively. Chu Xiu replied, “Let’s start. The sooner we finish, the sooner we can go back.”

The four of them alighted from the car, the biting wind swirling around them as they made their way to the centre of the crossroads. Since the task did not require them to work alone, they decided to work together. Nie Yun Zhen produced over a dozen sticks of incense from his bag and a lighter from his pocket, attempting to light them. However, something strange occurred – his lighter produced a spark, but the flame went out instantly. What did this mean?

The other three people also contemplated the terrible possibility…

Chu Xiu chided, “Don’t scare yourself,” before holding his hands together and blocking the wind to allow Nie Yun Zhen to continue lighting the incense. This time, ten or so incense sticks were easily ignited, and three sticks were distributed to each person.

Shi Yan and Lu Yan had previously prepared the food, selecting the smallest bowls to avoid any mishaps. Four bowls of white rice were arranged with three sticks of incense inserted neatly into each one. White smoke wafted upwards as the three incense sticks burned little by little until they were completely consumed, leaving ash on the cooled rice.

Then it was time to eat.

Shi Yan stirred her bowl with chopsticks, and the white rice clumped together, forming grey granular substances that appeared nauseating. She gritted her teeth and took a bite, struggling to swallow the disgusting mixture.

Shi Yan resisted the urge to vomit to survive, but she noticed that the others’ expressions were equally pained. Only the newcomer, Lu Yan, appeared calm, almost like a robot pouring oil into his mouth with no visible emotion. This demeanour put people off their appetite and made them feel less nauseous.

Shi Yan understood why Chu Xiu had insisted on finding the newcomer himself and was pleased with his resilience. Encouraging herself, she persevered and continued to eat.

One small bowl was quickly consumed, but after a few seconds of patience, Lu Yan’s stomach felt like it was torn apart by sharp objects. He sat up straight and scanned his surroundings, wondering if he would see ghosts after eating food for dead people. However, he saw nothing but the pitch-black night sky and the pale-white road, all blank with nothing in sight.

As Lu Yan scanned his surroundings, Shi Yan’s eyes widened – she had seen it. She had seen something!

According to legend, if one unintentionally lays eyes on a ghost, one must not utter a single sound. It’s best to feign blindness. If the ghost senses you or if you lock eyes with it, death or bad luck will befall you.

Shi Yan kept her head low and refrained from talking, but her gaze slowly drifted towards Chu Xiu and Nie Yun Zhen.

Can they see it?

46 ☆ Cars colliding at intersection

The pungent taste of burnt ashes mingled with the cooled rice was utterly repugnant. Its nauseating effect was not lost on the trio, whose minds were already wandering, contemplating the deeper meaning behind the game. But the putrid taste made it impossible for them to digest the reality of what they were doing.

“Will we really…see ghosts?” Shi Yan forced herself to sound casual, struggling to mask her unease. She avoided eye contact with anything out of the ordinary, hoping not to attract any attention.

In many horror stories, those who could see ghosts would inevitably draw the spirits’ attention, becoming attractive to certain paranormal entities. Shi Yan found herself in this situation now, but the last thing she wanted was to be noticed; however, except for Lu Yan, the other two already sensed something was amiss.

The frigid sensation on their skin grew more intense with each passing moment, making them shiver uncontrollably, despite being bundled in thick clothing. The ghosts were coming, and they were close.

From every direction, indistinct shadows emerged at the intersection, their bodies hazy and translucent to the trio’s eyes, with some appearing incomplete.

The crossroad was infamous for its high incidence of car accidents. It was regarded as one of the most haunted places due to its high Yin energy levels. There were rumours of methods to summon ghosts by repeatedly knocking on bowls at night at crossroads. It was said that this could attract lost souls and wandering spirits, not to mention eating “dead man’s rice” at the intersection of the Yin—Ming Road. Now, it seemed that the power of the ritual was more significant than they had anticipated.

The “dead man’s rice” was a delicacy for hungry ghosts, but it was difficult for the living to swallow. They gulped it, trying to complete the task as quickly as possible. And when the hungry ghosts caught a whiff of the scent, the bowl was already empty.

Suddenly, the ravenous ghosts turned their attention from the rice to the three living people.

One of the ghastly apparitions, a semi-transparent, bloodied figure, had already latched onto Shi Yan. She seemed to be a woman in her previous life, her pallid face twisted in agony, her limbs crushed into a pulp of meat. Despite her grotesque appearance, she moved quickly, her bloodshot eyes fixed on Shi Yan; her arm that looked like disintegrated a pile of flesh, extended slowly towards her.

“Hurry up! Aren’t you done yet?” Shi Yan screamed, trying to dodge the ghostly hands, which felt as light and insubstantial as air.

When the ghostly apparition first appeared at the intersection, Nie Yun Zhen had already scooped two spoonfuls of rice from the thermos into a bowl. He lit three sticks of incense, which he inserted into the rice, and the fragrant smoke rose in curls. Now, the three incense sticks still burned slowly, and their ash had mixed with the rice, turning it a ghostly white-grey.

“Not yet, hold on a little longer,” Nie Yun Zhen pleaded, his voice filled with desperation. The red tip of the incense sticks still glowed, indicating that there was still a small amount left to burn. He held the lighter to the incense, hoping to accelerate the process.

The frigid air had condensed the incense sticks, causing them to burn at a much slower pace. As they waited, a cold, raspy voice interrupted the silence. 

“I’m so hungry…” it moaned in Shi Yan’s ear, sending shivers down everyone’s spines.

The sighs came in waves like a switch had been flipped, and soon the intersection was enveloped in a blur of ghostly apparitions. A mist settled around them, obscuring their view of the outside world. The ghosts grew restless, and the sense of danger was palpable.

“The ghosts are becoming impatient,” Lu Yan whispered.

“Damn it, when did so many of them come?” Nie Yun Zhen darted left and right, trying to evade the ghosts that moved sluggishly but inexorably. 

The trio were in disarray but could not stop moving, for they feared getting injured. If they were to bleed, they knew they themselves would be hungry ghosts feast.  

“I’m hungry,” the voice echoed once more.

“I…am so hungry,” another voice chimed in.

Their lamentations grew louder and more frequent, forming a sound circle around the three players. The sobs became a symphony of despair, and the ghosts closed tighter.

“Ah–” Suddenly, Nie Yun Zhen screamed in agony, his hand bitten by one of the child-like ghosts. The pain was excruciating, and he dropped the bowl that, luckily, was caught by Lu Yan. Blood splattered onto the bowl, mixing with the grey powder that remained. The three incense sticks had burned down to nothing, marking the end.

“Run!” bellowed Chu Xiu as he snatched the bowl from the other person’s hand, threw it to the ground, and ignored the ghosts that rushed towards them. The four of them ran out of the encirclement.

They dared to turn their heads only after they had fled the circle. A horde of ghosts was rending and fighting with each other, their translucent bodies almost fusing together and continually emitting ear-splitting howls and shrieks.

With no time to spare, the quartet swiftly scrambled into the car. Nie Yun Zhen’s hand had been gnawed off a chunk of flesh, making it impossible for him to drive. Chu Xiu commandeered the driver’s seat and pressed the accelerator to the floor. In the inky black night, they careened out recklessly.

Nobody knew how long the rice would last, but unfortunately, so many ghosts had arrived. The consequences would be unimaginable if they finished devouring the food and came back looking for them.

Nie Yun Zhen slumped in the back seat, and Shi Yan wrapped his wound with multiple rounds of gauze. He gritted his teeth against the agony and said  jokingly, “Fortunately, we brought plenty of supplies earlier; otherwise, we wouldn’t have made it out.”

He didn’t expect that the one who would respond was Lu Yan, who had been mute in the co-drivers seat. “It’s a double-edged sword. The more rice fore dead we make, the more ghosts we attract.” His gaze skimmed through the glass window, and he appeared to glimpse something. The look in his eyes made Nie Yun Zhen uneasy. He sensed that the other person preferred to gaze at the monotonous nocturnal scene outside the window rather than glance at him.

Chu Xiu sighed, “Don’t forget our game for tomorrow.”

Tomorrow’s mission location was still on Yin—Ming Road. Who knew if these spectres would depart in a single day?

After Chu Xiu finished speaking, there was silence in the back seat. Nie Yun Zhen must have recognized the gravity of the problem. Peering in the rearview mirror, his complexion was wan and eerie, and Shi Yan, who had assisted him in bandaging, was equally sallow.

Seemingly aware of Chu Xiu’s scrutiny through the mirror, Shi Yan stared directly at it. Suddenly, she sported a ghostly smile.

Chu Xiu stomped on the brakes, swivelled his head abruptly, and instantly felt a chill cascade down his spine.

Where were the man and woman figures in the back seat? In just a few seconds, the two had vanished without a trace.

They were ghosts!

As Chu Xiu turned around, he realized that Lu Yan, sitting in the passenger seat, had disappeared, leaving him alone in the car. However, looking in the rearview mirror, he could still see the other three passengers and hear Lu Yan’s inquiry, “What happened? Why did we suddenly stop?”

Chu Xiu gritted his teeth and drove forward, preparing to abandon the car and flee as soon as they reached the city’s edge. The desolate location and potential danger made him cautious. He knew that recklessly leaving the vehicle could cost him his life.

Although the vehicle was at its maximum speed, it began to behave erratically, with waves appearing on the previously straight road. “What are you doing?!” Lu Yan yelled as he almost fell out of his seat. After returning to his seat, he realized something was amiss. Chu Xiu’s eyes were open, but he seemed unconscious.

Lu Yan took control of the steering wheel as the car almost collided with a nearby tree. Shi Yan, who had not yet understood what was happening, asked in a panic, “What’s wrong? What happened to Brother Chu?” But she soon realized the dire situation.

Chu Xiu’s head was tilted to one side, and he appeared to be in a trance. If he wasn’t wearing his seat belt, the sudden jolt of the car would have tossed him out of his seat. When Lu Yan hit the brake, the vehicle’s speed increased instead of decreasing. Nie Yun Zhen grabbed the armrest, frightened by the sharp turn. “Brother Chu is in trouble; please help us!”

As they struggled to regain control, the car’s speed continued to rise, and the scenery outside the window changed abruptly. The passengers’ vision blurred, and the vehicle suddenly returned to the crossroads a few hundred meters behind them. They were speeding towards the intersection again, only to find three identical cars racing towards them from the other three roads. It was nearly impossible to distinguish the genuine car from the replicas as if four identical vehicles were present.

“What’s going on?!”

Shi Yan and Nie Yun Zhen were in disbelief at the shocking scene. The oncoming car’s bright headlights made it hard to see, and the vehicle they were in was driving at an alarming speed.

“Brake quickly! Please!” they yelled desperately.

Lu Yan was also taken aback by the situation. He used excessive force to kick Chu Xiu’s foot off the accelerator, nearly breaking his opponent’s leg. Despite this, the brake pedal failed to work, and the speed continued to increase.

“The brakes have failed,” Lu Yan informed them calmly.

Nie Yun Zhen felt anxiety wash over him as he tried to lean forward and assist, but the unconscious Chu Xiu blocked his way. Suddenly, a jolt threw him back in his seat.

Within seconds, the distance between the four cars rapidly decreased, and they were on the verge of a fatal collision. Even if they were to survive, the impact at this speed would cause serious injury.

Unbeknownst to them, a pale figure was clinging to the car’s underside, the culprit responsible for sabotaging the brakes.

In the face of impending doom, Lu Yan remained composed. He surveyed the surroundings carefully in the light and made a decisive decision. He turned the steering wheel to the right in the final second before reaching the intersection.

The car turned sharply at high speed. If it had been someone less skilled, it would have flipped over. The passengers inside were thrown about by the force of the turn. Before they could even complain, they narrowly avoided a collision with an off-road vehicle emerging from the right intersection. The two cars’ copies collided and shattered, leaving numerous marks on their bodies.

As they passed the other vehicle, they caught a glimpse of its occupants. To their horror, four perfectly arranged white human bones were seated inside.

Luckily, despite the severe damage inflicted on their car, they emerged unscathed, spared from the gruesome fate that befell the three vehicles behind them, which collided with a deafening cacophony of destruction. One car from the left vanished in the violent burst of the impact.

At last, Lu Yan exhaled a sigh of relief, having narrowly avoided the same gruesome fate.

His intuition had proven correct.

Beside him, Nie Yun Zhen struggled to catch his breath, his head having taken several hard knocks during the ordeal. He had expected to either meet his end or be flayed alive, yet the car that rammed them had disappeared into thin air.

“How did you manage that?” He asked, still in disbelief.

47 ☆ Missing Bodies

As the car accelerated, the darkness outside the window appeared impenetrable, like a shroud draped over the world. They left the explosion site behind, watching as it slowly shrank into the distance. The bowls they had abandoned earlier were nowhere to be seen, presumably obliterated in the blast.

Chu Xiu remained unconscious, and the discomfort of the situation made it difficult to switch drivers. Lu Yan struggled to navigate the steering wheel with one hand while using the other to release Chu Xiu’s seat belt. Nie Yun Zhen helped by dragging him to the back seat.

As they drove down the highway, they graduated from copilots to drivers.

Only when they once again caught sight of the city lights ahead of them did Lu Yan respond to Nie Yun Zhen’s query. “About your previous question, I saw a reflection.”

“A reflection?”

“Yes. Four identical cars collided at the intersection simultaneously. Do you think that’s possible?”

“If it’s a ghost, then it’s definitely possible,” Nie Yun Zhen mused, pondering the supernatural being’s ability to manipulate time and space.

Ghosts possessed the capability to do anything, from teleportation to reversing time. Their curses were equally formidable, and you could not evade them no matter where you fled. They had no way of eradicating ghosts aside from complying with the mission’s regulations.

“I made a gamble,” said Lu Yan, settling into the driver’s seat. He didn’t bother to buckle his seat belt, and his face was cold and stern against the night sky. He looked at Nie Yun Zhen in the rearview mirror and spoke gravely. “The headlights were blinding, but I could still make out some details. The car coming from the left at the intersection had a reflection on its window, while the one on the right did not. The car heading straight towards us also had a reflection. And when I turned to help Chu Xiu, I saw the reflection of the car behind us on the rear windshield.”

In horror stories, ghosts and supernatural entities are often visible on reflective surfaces like mirrors. The fact that the car on the left wasn’t reflected by the car opposite made Lu Yan wonder if it was an illusion. Based on what he had seen at that moment, he decided to take a gamble. And it paid off.

But even as Lu Yan spoke, Nie Yun Zhen still felt like something was off. “If that’s the case,” he said, “why didn’t you turn left?”

The car on the left was fake, so logically, turning left should not have caused any damage. Lu Yan elucidated, “But I can’t be certain what would happen if we touched an illusion.”

In reality, Lu Yan had been preparing for the worst for some time. As the front passenger on the right-hand side, he had positioned himself closer to the ghost car when turning right, bringing him closer to where Chu Xiu was unconscious on the left. He had even prepared to jump out of the car or push Chu Xiu out if something went wrong. But thankfully, nothing abnormal occurred, and Chu Xiu remained under his control for the time being.

Nie Yun Zhen quickly understood the situation. “Colliding with an illusion might have consequences. It’s better to deal with something tangible.”

Invisible supernatural phenomena were always more terrifying than visible ones. Shi Yan listened in on their conversation and whispered, “What about Chu Xiu? He passed out and doesn’t know what’s going on.”

Even Nie Yun Zhen felt a hint of distress. “Let’s get him back first, but…” He leaned in and whispered something to Shi Yan, causing her to hesitate before nodding in agreement.

Still in the back seat, Chu Xiu looked pale and had shallow breathing. It was as though he was trapped in an endless nightmare. 

**

They drove onward until they sighted the familiar main road and city lights in the distance, and only then did Chu Xiu breathe a sigh of relief.

The temperature within the car continually plummeted. Despite cranking the heat up to the maximum, the cheerful faces of the other three in the rearview mirror appeared particularly sombre beneath the flashing lights. As soon as he turned around, the seats were once again unoccupied.

However, Chu Xiu feigned ignorance and conversed with them as if everything was normal. Although their dialogues were exceedingly odd, Chu Xiu still acted as though he knew nothing, trying to seek an opportunity to escape.

But what frightened him was that the car door seemed jammed and refused to open, no matter how hard he tried.

“Lu Yan,” seated in the front passenger seat, had lost his patience. He sat upright and faced forward, but his eyes gradually widened. Then, a pair of lifeless, black eyeballs gradually swivelled leftward, locking onto Chu Xiu.

In the mirror, his pupils grew increasingly askew, as though they might tumble out…no, they truly did drop out and clattered onto the ground. One of them chanced to roll to the underside of Chu Xiu’s foot as he placed it down.

He stepped on it without warning, and his entire body stiffened in response.

“Do you… see my… eyes?” The man in the passenger seat opened his mouth, revealing a set of white teeth. “I’m… so hungry…”

A voice from the back seat echoed the man’s words. “I’m… so hungry…”

Chu Xiu attempted to speak, but his gaze shot upward before he could, and he suddenly collapsed.

He caught a glimpse of his headless body on the driver’s seat, with a gush of fresh blood spurting from his broken neck. The surrounding objects appeared to grow larger… no, his head had shrunk, rolling to the ground. A familiar shoe stepped on it the next second.

He then realised that he had stepped on his shrunken head, not an eyeball.

“Chu-ge, wake up,” someone murmured. Chu Xiu detected someone shaking him.

He opened his eyes and saw Shi Yan’s concerned expression. When she saw that he had awoken, her worry dissipated, replaced by relief. “You’re finally awake.”

Chu Xiu sat up and surveyed his surroundings. He remained inside the car, with Lu Yan at the wheel. Nie Yun Zhen, Shi Yan, and he were seated in the back, all looking concerned.

His memories were still stuck in the illusion he had just experienced. He touched his neck to ensure it was still there and thanked Lu Yan before urgently inquiring about Nie Yun Zhen, “What happened to me just now?”

Nie Yun Zhen responded, “You became motionless all of a sudden, your eyes open, facing sideways. Fortunately, Lu Yan was seated next to you, so we avoided a car accident.”

Chu Xiu noted the time and realised that nearly an hour had elapsed since they departed the crossroads. Could it be that he had emerged from that illusion after dying? Could it be that straightforward?

“Did something else occur just now?” Chu Xiu inquired.

Nie Yun Zhen nodded, “Yes, but it’s been resolved.” He then recounted the events that took place at the intersection. After Chu Xiu finished listening, he felt that something was amiss. He knew the illusion was on the left, so why did they turn right? Was it because of what he had said that they were afraid of encountering something even more peculiar if they collided with the illusion?

Chu Xiu compared his and Lu Yan’s positions and instantly comprehended the truth. He gritted his teeth but still remained silent, muttering a thank you.

Could he still care about this matter if he was still alive?

Lu Yan didn’t even glance back, he simply drove on without acknowledging Chu Xiu’s thanks. The streets were empty at this point, with even the lights dimming.

“Speaking of which, we were incredibly lucky this time. Despite the complications, we managed to escape unscathed,” Nie Yun Zhen sighed. “I hope the upcoming tasks will be just as smooth.”

Shi Yan spoke up, “It’s just too bad about Little Ye…”

“A dead man cannot return to life. Let it go,” Nie Yun Zhen consoled her. “No one can guarantee that they will always be alive.”

“You’re right.”

Chu Xiu looked out the window at the unfamiliar street and asked with some confusion, “Did we change hotels?”

“Yes, while you were unconscious, I received news that a murder took place at the hotel we were previously staying at. Therefore, we had to relocate,” Nie Yun Zhen replied, pointing to his phone screen. “Here, it’s a bit far.”

The city centre was far from the gloomy suburbs, and the drive was long. 

Speaking of which, Brother Chu, what should we do tomorrow?” Nie Yun Zhen asked, feeling bored and frustrated as he grabbed his hair.

At that moment, Lu Yan, driving in the front seat, interrupted, “What do you guys want to do again?”

Chu Xiu replied, “How about playing hide and seek tomorrow night? The location is on Yin—Ming Road.”

Lu Yan sneered, “Seems like you’re tired of living.”

Nie Yun Zhen couldn’t help but say, “It’s not like we have a choice to…” He didn’t finish his sentence as Shi Yan signalled for him to stop.

They were aware that taking on the mission was their only option. If they didn’t, it would surely be a death sentence. Going on the task at least offered them a chance, but they kept this fact to themselves, knowing that Lu Yan, who wasn’t one of the mission executors, didn’t need to know.

Nie Yun Zhen shook off his distraction, feeling frustrated for almost slipping up and revealing too much. They continued to chat as they made their way to the hotel they had selected.

Lu Yan pulled up to the hotel’s parking lot and parked the car, turning to face them. “I’ve done my part. Don’t come to me for help again,” he warned them.

Chu Xiu nodded in agreement, “Understood.”

Although the hotel was brightly lit, it gave off an ominous vibe. As the trio stepped out of the car and walked towards the entrance, they watched as Lu Yan drove away and disappeared from sight.

Suddenly, an unexpected event occurred – a car backed up and violently collided with Shi Yan, who was at the back of the group. She was sent flying and didn’t even have time to scream before hitting the ground and rolling several times before finally stopping at Chu Xiu’s feet with a loud crash.

Her eyes remained open wide as a large pool of blood oozed out from under her, staining her clothes a deep shade of red. 

Inside the parking lot, car sirens blared incessantly. Nie Yun Zhen hadn’t even had a chance to grieve yet. When he heard the alarms and footsteps approaching from afar, along with the security guard’s questioning voice, he immediately seized Chu Xiu and urged him to leave. “We need to leave quickly! If they call the police, it could cause problems.”

Although the incident had nothing to do with them, it was apparent that it resulted from a supernatural occurrence. After all, how could a properly parked vehicle suddenly reverse and hit someone? But could they confide in the police about it? That would be a real dead end if they were detained and prevented from going to Yin-Ming Road at midnight tonight!

Chu Xiu also understood this, and they hastily took a detour and left. After all, the hotel’s security guard had already arrived, and he would take the injured person to the hospital. If Shi Yan didn’t pull through…

Chu Xiu shook his head and kept running forward.

The parking lot was in turmoil, with alarms blaring everywhere as though someone was haphazardly kicking the cars and activating security signals. To make matters worse, as they were about to exit the parking lot, some unmanned vehicles slowly started up and accelerated towards them.

“Bad news! Be careful!” 

Chu Xiu and Nie Yun Zhen instantly ran in opposite directions, dodging the two cars approaching from the front and back. The two vehicles collided, and their pieces scattered all over the ground. 

Why was this happening? Did they activate some kind of death flag?

“Who’s in the parking lot? Stop running!” A louder roar came from a distance, and the security guard must have been infuriated. He even summoned more people to come over, and the sound of footsteps became more frequent.

Chu Xiu and Nie Yun Zhen frantically tried to escape the chaos of the parking lot, dodging cars left and right. However, they could not escape the danger and inadvertently went further into the parking lot. Eventually, they were separated as a car raced towards them. Chu Xiu was left to fend for himself and faced another car speeding towards him. He quickly made a daring move and jumped onto the roof of another vehicle to avoid being hit. The car behind him smashed into the car he was standing on, but thankfully, there was no explosion. Chu Xiu took a moment to catch his breath and assess the situation, only to find that the other cars in the parking lot still crashed uncontrollably. He couldn’t locate Nie Yun Zhen, and the security guards seemed to be the targets of the out-of-control vehicles.

Just as Chu Xiu was wondering where Nie Yun Zhen could be, he heard a loud explosion and felt something hit him from behind. He was sent flying and tumbled before realizing that Nie Yun Zhen’s dying body had hit him. Chu Xiu was filled with disbelief and shock. They had been on countless missions before and had never faced such danger. How could something as simple as avoiding a few cars lead to Nie Yun Zhen’s death? Chu Xiu ignored his pain and wiped the blood from his forehead as he searched for a way out of the parking lot. He cautiously moved forward, avoiding any obstacles that could harm him. Suddenly, a headless corpse fell before him, and Chu Xiu was left wondering what was happening.

He thought back to the bowl for the dead he had consumed at the crossroads and wondered if it had summoned these ghosts. The body before him looked very familiar, and he realized it belonged to Shi Yan. The body was intact, but the head was missing. 

He had to tread cautiously and manoeuvre around the corpse as he made his way forward. The headless body suddenly grasped his ankle as he was about to depart. Chu Xiu yanked his foot free and ran ahead without looking back. This time, he could leave smoothly, and he finally arrived at the intersection where a car was parked. The driver’s window rolled down, and to his surprise, it was Lu Yan.

“Get in the car!” urged Lu Yan, and without hesitation, Chu Xiu opened the door and hopped in. 

Grateful for the ride, Chu Xiu sighed in relief, but suddenly he felt a wave of nausea hit him. Was it because of that bowl of rice? The discomfort was almost unbearable.

Lu Yan, who was behind the wheel, seemed to feel the same way, judging by the grimace on his face. Observing Chu Xiu’s pallid complexion, he asked, “Do you feel something’s amiss too?”

Chu Xiu nodded, but before he could say anything, he leaned out the car window and violently vomited a stream of black beetles rattling as they fell to the ground and scurried forward.

To his surprise, what came out of Chu Xiu’s mouth wasn’t vomit but a continuous stream of black beetles with shiny black shells and red patterns, each about half the size of a finger. These were hammer beetles, also known as corpse beetles, because they preferred feeding on the corpses of humans or animals.

The thought of these creatures inside his body made Chu Xiu feel even more nauseous, causing him to continue vomiting. Once he was finished, he quickly closed the window to prevent any of the beetles from crawling back in.

After a terrifying experience, Chu Xiu finally had a chance to check on Lu Yan. “Are you okay?” he asked, his face pale as gold paper from the ordeal. Lu Yan’s face was equally pale, and he covered his mouth as he dried heaved a few times. His grip on the steering wheel was unsteady, and once he handed over control to Chu Xiu, he leaned back heavily in the seat, gasping for air.

Watching Lu Yan bend over, Chu Xiu grew anxious. “Don’t hold it in! It might be corpse beetles. Open the window and spit outside.”

Lu Yan waved his hand dismissively. “It’s not corpse worms,” he said weakly as he pulled a slender white bone from his mouth. More and more followed, piling up next to his seat. Soon, the bones formed a tall stack that almost reached the seat level.

Chu Xiu’s hand on the steering wheel grew cold. He realised this Lu Yan was fake, just like everything else that had happened so far. He wanted to step on the brakes, but the ground beneath the car was covered in bones. The fake Lu Yan continued spitting bones, and Chu Xiu realised he couldn’t open the door.

Suddenly, the bones on the ground began to move…

**

Back at the hotel, Shi Yan and Nie Yun Zhen were extremely anxious. “What should we do? It’s almost afternoon, and Brother Chu hasn’t woken up yet.”

They feared for their lives, knowing they might not survive without Chu Xiu’s help.

After sending the three to the hotel, Lu Yan was clever enough to leave alone, but they had no idea what to do next. Nie Yun Zhen was injured and unable to accompany Chu Xiu. Chu Xiu was in lousy shape, sweating profusely with a large wound on his forehead for no apparent reason, clearly in a precarious state.

“There’s no other choice,” Nie Yun Zhen gasped, gripping his hair in frustration. “If he hasn’t woken up by eight o’clock tonight, I’ll grab some passers-by from the hotel.”

It takes at least two hours by car to get to Yin—Ming Road. If they wait longer for him, all three of them will die!

“What about him?” Shi Yan asked.

Nie Yun Zhen’s brow furrowed deeper.

“Maybe we could drag him over there and hide him first, then start playing hide-and-seek,” Shi Yan suggested.

“That sounds easy, but who knows what will happen if he gets caught? And what if the ghost can’t catch people? What if someone finds him hidden? Besides, who will do the hiding? Me or you?”

Although Shi Yan had trained herself for the task, she couldn’t carry a man too far. Nie Yun Zhen had to do it.

“Also, if I’m hiding him, will you be responsible for suppressing the people we catch? If you don’t keep an eye on them and they find him, Chu Xiu will be the first one caught.”

“I’ll take care of it. Give me a gun, and I’ll see who dares to peek,” Shi Yan said.

Nie Yun Zhen closed his eyes. “Actually…that’s not the point,” he said slowly, looking at the unconscious, pale, twisted Chu Xiu. “I’ll just say it. We have to draw lots to be the ghost. If any of us draw the lot, are you sure you won’t go after him?”

Upon reflection, he knew that he would not miss this opportunity if he drew the ghost slip and no one else was found. Even though Chu Xiu had assisted them greatly, they couldn’t risk their lives at a crucial moment.

Shi Yan pursed her lips and agreed, “Okay, if he doesn’t wake up by nightfall, then it’s his misfortune, and we can’t blame ourselves.”

Nie Yun Zhen knew that Shi Yan had always been protective of their team members, whether Ye Shengke before or Chu Xiu now. As long as they were collaborating partners, Shi Yan would do her utmost to keep them secure. Nie Yun Zhen disagreed, but since Shi Yan had already spoken, if they hid Chu Xiu away, it would be tantamount to knowing a player’s fixed hiding place, which would actually benefit him. Nie Yun Zhen didn’t hesitate and consented.

After they left the room, the person on the bed changed. Shiny black beetles with red patterns on their backs crawled out of Chu Xiu’s mouth one by one. There were too many of them, and they moved in a continuous stream, covering the bed entirely. Eventually, they crawled down to the floor and scattered in every direction.

Their bodies were tiny, measuring only two or three centimetres long, slightly flattened, and they could easily crawl out of the door crack. Some corpse insects wriggled into the bathroom and burrowed into the sewer.

A little boy playing with his phone in the hotel’s other room requested, “Mummy, I want some water.”

“Alright, I’ll boil some now.” After speaking, the woman picked up the kettle next to the TV and headed to the bathroom to fetch some water. However, she shrieked in terror when she turned on the faucet, and the kettle was flung aside.

Instead of water, a never-ending stream of small black beetles emerged from the faucet.

“Mummy, what’s wrong?” The little boy asked in confusion, then screamed in fright, “Ah – mummy, what is that?”

“It’s filthy! Quick, let’s leave!”

The boy’s question echoed through the small room, “Do we leave our clothes and bags?”

As the woman turned around, she was met with a horrifying sight. The tiny room was swarming with small black insects. The creepy crawly creatures moved so rapidly that the bed was covered in a matter of seconds, and the woman’s scalp started to tingle with fear.

She wanted to gather her belongings, but the room was no longer safe. “No, forget it. Baby, let’s go!” The woman quickly scooped up the little boy and made a dash for the door.

To her astonishment, the door of the adjacent room was wide open, and an endless army of black insects flowed out, transforming the hallway into a moving, black carpet. The swarm swallowed up the two, leaving them with nowhere to escape.

“We need to leave right away! Something’s not right with this hotel!” Shi Yan hurriedly sought out Nie Yun Zhen. “I’ll pack up. You get Chu Xiu. Hurry!”

As seasoned missionaries, they were used to quick, efficient action. Nie Yun Zhen did not hesitate and immediately went to fetch Chu Xiu.

He went to Chu Xiu’s room without incident; strangely, he had not encountered the bug horde. When he opened the door, he found Chu Xiu comfortably lying in bed. He picked him up and rushed out.

“Hurry up, let’s go! The elevator’s down; we’ll have to take the stairs.” Shi Yan was waiting outside the door, bags in one hand and luggage in the other. The three of them bolted down the stairwell, and only then did Nie Yun Zhen realize the gravity of the situation.

Where were these corpse bugs coming from?

The beetles had covered almost the entire hallway, their glossy shells shining like a sea of darkness. They had no choice but to step on them to move forward, the sickening sound of shells crunching and the splatter of sludge accompanying every step. They had to constantly brush off the bugs climbing them to avoid being swarmed.

Nie Yun Zhen carried Chu Xiu with both hands while Shi Yan took care of the luggage and swatted away the bugs with her coat. Finally, they arrived at the lobby on the ground floor, pushed the door open and bolted out into the safety of the outside world.

Finally, they could breathe a sigh of relief. Nie Yun Zhen, heavily gasping for air, carried a large man and ran up the stairs, consuming much of his stamina. “That was horrible. I don’t know where those bugs came from,” he said.

Shi Yan was equally disgusted, frowning as she examined the sole of her shoe. “Yeah, it was too disgusting,” she said, feeling nauseous at the memory.

Suddenly, Nie Yun Zhen stood opposite her, mouth agape in shock. “Wait, look at this,” he said.

Confused, Shi Yan turned around to see a continuous stream of tiny black bugs crawling up the outer layer of the building. The entire structure was gradually being covered by black corpse insects.

“Let’s go,” Nie Yun Zhen said, lightly nudging Shi Yan’s shoulder. She finally reacted, “Ah? Okay, let’s go.”

Their car was parked in the lot with a large scratch on the left side and a broken rearview mirror. However, they had no time to fix it and couldn’t be picky. They placed Chu Xiu in the back seat and drove to the city with Shi Yan behind the wheel.

“You know, what if we find some students? High school or college students will do,” Nie Yun Zhen suggested.

Shi Yan was surprised by his suggestion. “Students?”

“Yes, aren’t their many students who like to play these exciting adventure games?”

“But, but…”

According to the site executors’ feedback, they generally did not choose students for their tasks. Their targets were usually young and middle-aged residents who looked intelligent. Perhaps this was their only display of conscience.

Unbeknownst to Shi Yan, they had already chosen two students, Wen Qing and Yun Qian, at the beginning of their last playthrough. The consequence was that they paid a painful price. This was also why Shi Yan felt a vague resistance in her heart, although she didn’t fully understand it.

“Stop with the buts. Who else can we find now?” Nie Yun Zhen interrupted, shaking his injured hand and removing the bandage to apply for new medicine. The wound was still black. “Besides, the mission doesn’t specify the number of people. The more people we find, the better.”

He found tricking people into coming was a more straightforward approach compared to threatening them with a gun if he needed someone. Nevertheless, he knew those lured in under the pretence of a game were likely to perish quicker due to inattentiveness. Thus, Chu Xiu favoured using a firearm to coerce them, keeping the participants alert and pushing them to work harder to save themselves.

“I’ll post something now and invite them,” Shi Yan said, but she didn’t exude confidence. She lowered her gaze and quickly searched for a high school near Yin—Ming Road.

At the school: 

“Hey, have you all heard? Tian Le from the next class is taking leave tonight.”

“Leave? So what?”

“Guess what he’s doing during his leave?”

“Is he going on a date?”

“No, that’s not it.” The girl who instigated the conversation lowered her voice. “He arranged to explore Yin—Ming Road tonight, playing hide and seek. How thrilling, isn’t it?”

“Wow… that’s too audacious. Count me out.”

“But wait, didn’t they say three cars crashed on Yin—Ming Road last night? I heard that people died. The traffic police should be patrolling the area now, right?”

“They patrol during the day but not at night, right?”

“It’s too frightening; I won’t go.”

“Where did he learn of this news? And who is he going with?”

“I heard it was someone from out of town, interested in the ghost stories and keen on visiting Yin—Ming Road.” The girl who first spread the news lowered her voice. “Tian Le is going for a reason. The person who posted stated they were too scared to go alone and offered to pay one thousand yuan for someone to accompany them and play for two hours before returning.”

Tian Le’s family was not wealthy, so the allure of one thousand yuan for two hours proved to be irresistible to him. Especially since it wasn’t illegal or immoral.

The news about the post quickly spread throughout the entire grade. The poster claimed no limit to the number of participants, and the more people who joined, the better. All one had to do was stay with them and play; each person would receive one thousand. The city wasn’t mainly developed, similar to Tiantianle, and many high school students who claimed to be brave were tempted.

“Hey, Qingqing, have you heard?” 

Yun Qian and Wen Qing returned from the restroom and overheard everyone discussing something. A few girls pulled them over to join the huddle.

“What’s going on?” Wen Qing asked curiously.

“It’s about someone planning to explore Yin—Ming Road.”

“What?!” Wen Qing’s face turned pale. “You can’t go there!”

She wanted to say more, but the bell rang, and the teacher walked in. Wen Qing returned to her seat and took out her book. However, her thoughts were elsewhere.

Yin—Ming Road… Why would anyone want to explore there?

Throughout the class, Wen Qing was distracted. Even when the teacher called on her to answer a question, she couldn’t respond, and her complexion was poor. The teacher assumed she was unwell and didn’t bother her, telling her to rest well.

After class, the teacher went to the office with something, and Wen Qing immediately rushed to the girls she had been chatting with earlier. “What do you mean by going to Yin—Ming Road?”

“Huh? You don’t know?” The messenger girl excitedly pulled her over to sit down and explained what had happened.

After hearing her out, Wen Qing’s lips even turned white. “There was a car accident just last night, and they must know. How could they be so reckless?”

“The recent car accident was not caused by the driver flashing his high beams and brake failure. But it’s bizarre; at the crossroads, three cars collided. Anyway, don’t tell anyone; Tian Le wants to make some extra money,” she added.

Wen Qing was surprised and shook her head in disbelief. “No, you don’t know, this money can’t be made, and that place can’t be visited!” Her eyes shifted towards the girl. “Besides Tian Le, who else said they wanted to go?”

“Um…Tian Le, Fang Nan, Ling Wei Wei…” The girl counted on her fingers and listed seven or eight names, causing Wen Qing to grow increasingly panicked. She nodded and rushed out of the classroom, leaving Yun Qian behind.

Yun Qian approached the girl and inquired about the one thousand yuan Tian Le had mentioned. 

Wen Qing hurried to the next classroom and called out Tian Le’s name, causing a small commotion. Being considered a beauty by many of her classmates, Wen Qing was often the subject of gossip. Tian Le walked out of the door, a bit nervous.

Although Tian Le liked Wen Qing, he wouldn’t say he was deeply in love. But a little bit of adolescent infatuation was enough to make him shy in front of the pretty girl.

“Are you going to Yin—Ming Road tonight?” Wen Qing asked directly. “Believe me, you can’t go there; it’s dangerous.”

Tian Le didn’t want to go, but he wanted the money. Poverty seemed embarrassing in front of the girl he liked. He turned his head. “I’ll go and take a look and come back. It’s none of your business, so don’t worry about it.”

Wen Qing was angry and stomped her foot. “Do you know that people have died there? You guys are going to play there; it’s like you’re asking for death.”

“It’s okay; trust science. Besides, we’ll be back after playing; nothing will happen.” Tian Le regretted his words as soon as he spoke. He sounded stubborn and defensive.

“If something happens, it will be too late for regrets!” Wen Qing was anxious and knew she couldn’t convince him with a few words. She turned and left, planning to tell the class teacher.

At the City Police Station.

The atmosphere in the conference room was sombre as several police officers held stacks of photos and information, the contents of which could shock the entire country if made public. The younger police officer at the bottom of the table exhaled slowly, sweat breaking out on his forehead as he asked, “These… Can humans really do this?” His question went unanswered as everyone avoided seeking the answer.

“This is a big deal. Everyone remember that all information related to the Yin—Ming Road crossroad case will be kept confidential. From today on, Yin—Ming Road is sealed off, and no one is allowed to enter,” the woman at the top of the table said after they finished reviewing the materials. Her features were exquisite, but the strong dignity in her eyebrows and eyes made her appear distant at first glance rather than appreciated for her beauty.

The conference room members replied equally seriously, knowing they might have stepped into some mysterious realm. “Understood,” they chorused.

“Now, let’s discuss our ideas and see if there are any solutions. Any questions can be raised now,” the woman continued.

One of the officers raised his hand and asked, “I’m thinking, is it possible that the killer dismantled the victim’s bones and reassembled them? Otherwise, it is difficult to explain why several skeletons showed that they belong to the same person.”

“The forensic team has considered your question. They tested all the skulls and confirmed that the results of the skull DNA tests were identical,” the woman replied, adding to their incredulity.

Another officer said, “What about the bowls found at the scene? There was a bowl of spoiled rice and ashes. Does this have any meaning?”

Just then, there was an urgent knock on the conference room door. After permission was granted, a young police officer rushed in and whispered something to the woman at the top of the table. She widened her eyes suddenly and exclaimed, “What?”

“The meeting has ended, and taking any materials out of the conference room is forbidden. Xiao Liu, please make sure to collect them,” the policewoman ordered before leaving the room with the young police officer, leaving the rest of the group perplexed.

Lately, more and more strange occurrences have been occurring, each challenging their materialistic beliefs.

“It’s hard to say. There might actually be ghosts in the world,” one person suggested.

“I believe in science, so let’s not talk nonsense,” another countered.

“I know, but there’s a saying that we have to consider. The limits of science lead to mysticism,” a third person contributed.

“I agree. I used to have faith in science, but some things in this world are too inexplicable. How else can you explain that the gas tanks in those off-road vehicles were all filled with blood?” a fourth person added.

“Exactly, and what about those identical skulls? Can one person have multiple skulls?” a fifth person questioned.

“I was just thinking the same thing. Eating rice mixed with fragrant ash at a crossroads is just asking for trouble. I don’t know if they were too bold and summoned something…” a sixth person stated.

“Enough, let’s not talk about it anymore. We must show respect for the dead and say less,” someone intervened.

“Oh, by the way, what news did Zhao Sister hear just now? She seems anxious,” someone else inquired.

Everyone looked at each other, but no one knew the answer.

Zhao’s Sister, in a rush, followed the young police officer out of the room. When they reached the ground floor, she lowered her voice and asked, “What’s going on? All the bodies are gone?”

48 ☆ Hide-and-Seek

The young police officer being questioned appeared anxious, “No, Sister Zhao, the situation is bizarre, and we can’t explain it clearly for now. You should come and take a look in person.”

As they spoke, they entered the elevator and pressed the button. The elevator slowly descended to the basement level of the building where the morgue was located. The elevator doors opened, and a blast of cold air rushed out, sending shivers down their spines.

The forensic examiner was waiting for them at the door. He didn’t waste any time and led them directly to the scene. “A total of twenty-four bodies were here, all laid out nicely. We went to have lunch, and when we returned in the afternoon, they were all gone,” he said as he pointed to one of the cabinet walls. Twenty-four drawers were pulled open, but they were all empty.

“Did you check the surveillance cameras? Who opened the drawers?” Officer Zhao asked.

“I opened them and was planning to continue working on them later. But when I opened one, I found nothing inside. I opened another one, and there was still nothing. I don’t know why, but they just disappeared. We checked the surveillance cameras, but there was nothing unusual,” the examiner explained.

“Are you sure there were no anomalies?”

“None.”

“How long did you take for lunch?”

“Less than twenty minutes. I was thinking about this and didn’t waste much time,” the examiner replied.

The situation was too bizarre to ignore; just thinking about it was enough to send shivers down one’s spine. Officer Zhao asked more questions but still got no answers. But in just twenty minutes, where could twenty-four bodies have gone? Even if it was just a skeleton, the volume was still there. No matter how it was broken down or hidden, it didn’t seem possible in such a short amount of time.

The information that had just been sent out flashed through her mind, and Officer Zhao pursed her lips, lost in thought.

For a long time, she had heard about the Legend of the Yin—Ming Road, where strange murders occurred almost yearly. Despite this, the authorities never closed off the area, opting to keep the information suppressed. The truth remained a secret amongst the older generation in the department.

Her predecessor had gone missing the year before after insisting on exploring Yin—Ming Road, and there had been no news.

“I’ll take care of this matter. You guys go do something else,” said Officrt Zhao, determined. She quickly left with her subordinates.

Back in the school, in the teacher’s office, Mr Li looked serious as he asked, “Playing hide-and-seek in Yin—Ming Road? Wen Qing, who initiated this? Do you know who else has decided to go?”

Wen Qing was relieved to see her teacher’s severe expression and responded, “I heard from my classmates that they all knew about it. Someone posted on the forum, asking people to accompany her to play there. As long as they go, they’ll get paid. Several of them said they would go.” She named each person one by one. “But, teacher, Yin—Ming Road is very dangerous. We can’t let them go there to play.”

“Okay, I got it. I’ll make sure to handle this matter,” Mr Li promised.

When Wen Qing left, Mr Li rubbed his forehead, muttering, “These little brats are nothing but trouble, going out and risking their lives. By the way, should we inform the grade leader?”

However, his usually chatty colleagues exchanged hidden looks, none supporting his suggestion.

Confused, Mr Li asked, “What’s going on?”

“Little Li, it’s better if you don’t get involved. Let them go,” a senior teacher in the office smiled.

“How can you just ignore this?” Teacher Li asked, puzzled. “Going to a ghostly place in the middle of the night and giving money before going must be a scam, right? What if they really get kidnapped?”

The two teachers beside him exchanged a knowing look and slightly pursed their lips. “I’m just reminding you out of goodwill,” one said. “Just pretend you don’t know anything related to that place. It’s better for you that way.”

Teacher Li became even more confused. “What do you mean?” he asked, but no one would talk to him. They seemed afraid of getting into trouble. Finally, he seemed to understand and changed his tone. “I see,” he said. “If the students want to go and see for themselves, as a teacher, I should respect their personal wishes as long as it doesn’t affect their studies.”

The office returned to its former harmonious state. Wen Qing returned to the classroom in a calm mood. The bell rang in time, and she hurried back to her seat to prepare for class. After a long math class, the homeroom meeting began. Wen Qing looked forward to her homeroom teacher, Teacher Li, saying something about the issue, and Teacher Li did not disappoint her. He started talking about safety issues, such as winter heating, electric and fire prevention, and preventing food poisoning. Finally, he got to the point of reminding them to be careful when going home at night.

However, Wen Qing’s expectant eyes were disappointed as Teacher Li looked away and started talking about the class’s academic performance. Wen Qing couldn’t help but wonder why Teacher Li wasn’t addressing the issue. Was there another plan? She waited suspiciously, but her doubts were not resolved until after school that afternoon. Teacher Li had made up his mind not to care.

Wen Qing went to the office after school to look for her homeroom teacher, but he wasn’t there. The other teachers were all busy with their work and said they didn’t know anything about it. She told the homeroom teacher of the next class about this, but the other party responded with a vague “uh-huh,” which seemed like a brush-off.

Wen Qing was engulfed by intense anxiety, feeling as though she was trapped in an inferno. Despite her overwhelming distress, the teacher next door remained indifferent, advising her against interfering. A student who attempted to skip the evening self-study was publicly reprimanded and warned to be cautious. But safety was a scarce commodity in that place.

Undeterred, Wen Qing chased the person she was after.

A group in an office observed in silence as Wen Qing’s figure dwindled in the distance.

In an off-road vehicle near Yin-Ming Road, a man and a woman conversed.

“Are you certain this approach will work?” the man asked.

“It should. I merely posted a message on a nearby high school forum. The tuition fees aren’t exorbitant, and many students come from modest families and are motivated by the opportunity to earn money,” replied the woman.

After a thorough discussion, they turned their attention to the unconscious Chu Xiu in the back seat, writhing in agony.

“What about him?” Nie Yun Zhen gestured towards Chu Xiu.

“Shall we conceal him?” Shi Yan’s last vestige of compassion went into those words.

This way, when those students come searching, they won’t mistake him for a hide-and-seek player. However, if he faced any danger in his unconscious state, they would be powerless to help.

Nie Yun Zhen gazed outside at the sky, witnessing the sunset and the sky changing into a yellow hue. He gritted his teeth and said, “Okay, let’s proceed together.”

Since they needed to pick up the students earlier, they arrived at Yin-Ming Road ahead of schedule. Hearing the man’s words, she started the car and headed deep into the forest.

“I don’t know what happened here after we left yesterday. I hope it’s not…” The woman’s voice trailed off, grief evident on her face. She tightly gripped the steering wheel, causing her fingers to turn white.

Nie Yun Zhen remained silent, pondering their situation. “We can’t be so unlucky that none of us can accomplish the mission, can we?”

Nervously driving, Shi Yan and Nie Yun Zhen arrived at the crossroad without incident. However, their attention was drawn to a yellow seal wrapped around a nearby tree a few hundred meters away. A notice on the tree warned that a severe car accident had occurred here the previous night and that unauthorized personnel were not allowed to enter.

“Car accident?” Shi Yan and Nie Yun Zhen exchanged a worried look, both realizing the gravity of the situation.

Could this be the same accident…?

After parking the car, they carefully examined the area before helping Chu Xiu, unconscious, onto Nie Yun Zhen’s back. Although he appeared thin, he was carrying an abnormally heavy burden. Shi Yan assisted him on the side to prevent Chu Xiu from falling, and the two of them made their way towards the forest’s depths.

At the municipal police station, journalists swarmed the building upon hearing the news of the accident. When they learned about a major news story, they raced to the scene like wolves drawn to the scent of meat.

“Excuse me, is it true that a major car accident occurred on Yin—Ming Road?” asked one journalist. “The public is very sceptical about the truth of the case. Can someone in charge provide answers?”

“I heard that there were no survivors at the scene. Why did the police rule it as a suicide? Did the people in the three cars commit suicide together?” asked another.

Outside the station, Zhao’s police car was surrounded by people as she attempted to leave. It wasn’t because they knew her but because the sight of a police car stirred their curiosity, and they hoped to uncover some news.

Feeling annoyed in the car, Zhao wondered what she could say. She knew there were doubts about the case, but could she disclose that to the public? Admit that there were ghosts in the world? Hahaha, that was absurd.

She couldn’t say anything. The test results of the corpse were supposed to be compared with the missing persons in the city to identify the deceased. However, with the body missing and the results stolen, she didn’t even know who had died. What could she say?

As she glanced at her mobile phone, a multimedia message from an unknown sender caught her attention. As she viewed the news, a sense of anger brewed within her. “What kind of depraved individual would encourage students to play hide and seek in such a place?!” she muttered, her eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

Returning to the police courtyard, she swiftly reported the message to the local school authorities. The security guards immediately intervened, halting the group of journalists, while Officer Zhao began her investigation by logging into the anonymous forum from which the screenshot was sent.

The results of the inquiry shook her to her core. The post was genuine, with roughly thirty responses expressing the desire to play the game.

Damn it ……

Among the group of journalists, a stoic and striking man stood out. He also possessed a press pass around his neck, but unlike the others, he calmly retrieved his phone, sent a message, and stowed it away without pushing or shoving.

Meanwhile, at a high school on the opposite side of the city, a group of students embarked on a bus, which was not part of their usual routine. They were all from the same school and wore matching uniforms. Despite some being strangers, they quickly exchanged names and got acquainted with each other.

The driver became curious, suspecting an event taking place that day, but the students remained tight-lipped and evaded his queries.

After exiting the school gates, they boarded a bus, disembarked three stops before their final destination, and transferred to another bus to reach their ultimate goal.

Initially, they were all reserved, but their excitement grew as they changed buses. The young students conversed loudly, unconcerned whether they knew each other, sharing ghost stories that sent shivers down some of the girls’ spines.

“By the way, who’s going to play the ghost?” asked one of the students.

“It should be fine if we lose, right? But it’s so exhilarating; I’ve only ever slept on a grave before,” replied another, grinning with anticipation.

“As a child, while living in the countryside, my mother once took me to the edge of the cemetery. Naive and ignorant, I saw a girl combing her hair while crying inside. I wanted to investigate, but my mother hastily took me away without allowing me to say a word. However, after returning home, I fell ill and remained sick for several days before eventually recovering.”

As another person shared their ghost story, the bus ride proved unusually lively, despite only the driver remaining. Before exiting, the passengers said their goodbyes to the driver, who gave them a strange grin and invited them to return soon. His smile seemed to suggest that he hoped to see them alive.

Upon disembarking, the students were met with a desolate and eerie scene.

“Is this the road to the underworld?” one said.

“How barren! Even the trees are stripped of leaves.” 

“And this place gives me a creepy feeling,” yet another stated.

Despite their unease, the group of eleven found comfort in their company, so they smiled and continued forward.

“By the way, where is the person who invited us to play hide-and-seek together? The one who posted the message?” someone asked.

“He instructed us to continue until we found a sign for the road to the underworld and that a car would be waiting for us there,” another replied.

The group walked and chatted until they came across an off-road vehicle. The people inside, a man and a woman, appeared to have noticed them from the rearview mirror and exited the car.

“Hello, did you come here after reading the post?” the woman asked with a smile. She was petite and approachable, and she put the students at ease, and they continued chatting with her.

“Yes, we came after reading the post. Are you looking for someone?” 

The woman’s voice was melodic as she spoke, “Indeed, we’ve come to partake in an adventure game. My name is Shi Yan, but feel free to call me Yan Yan. It would be lovely if we could introduce ourselves first.”

The man, observing silently until now, flashed a smile, “I am Nie Yun Zhen.”

“My name is Fang Nan, and I couldn’t help but wonder about the reward you mentioned for the game…” Fang Nan trailed off, feeling apprehensive about discussing money with strangers.

Shi Yan grinned sheepishly again, “No need to worry; everyone will receive their fair share.” She retrieved a stack of cash from her bag and handed each person a bill. Despite some of them feeling embarrassed and refusing to accept it, she insisted, “It’s merely a deposit. But please do not leave before it’s time to go, alright? We’re both rather timid. We’ll leave together later, and I’ll give everyone the remainder of the money. Is that acceptable?”

Their last shred of concern vanished with the deposit now in their hands. They were all unfamiliar students with no intention of breaking any laws in the wilderness. They dutifully divulged their names and showcased their school badges to verify their identities in case anyone doubted them.

Shi Yan and Nie Yun Zhen silently tallied the number of individuals present. There were eleven students altogether:

Three girls: Yun Qian, Ling Wei Wei, and Zhang Dan.

Eight boys: Tian Le, Fang Nan, Liang Qiucheng, Sun Hao, Xie Yu, Zhang Zhi Jie, Huang Yuan Wang, and Liu Chengliang.

“Alright, let’s discuss the game’s rules now.” Shi Yan clapped her hands together, “The game is known as hide-and-seek. We’ll begin once it’s past midnight and everyone is acquainted with the rules, right? After midnight, we’ll pull playing cards to randomly designate one person as the ghost. The ghost will stay near the car while everyone else hides for ten minutes. After ten minutes, we’ll begin pursuing one another. The game will last for half an hour, after which we’ll all reconvene at the car.”

The students had watched and could keep track of time.

“Will there be any rewards or penalties for winning or losing?” one of the students queried spontaneously.

Shi Yan hesitated initially; her initial instinct was to refuse the proposal. However, the thought of the potential loss of lives made her reconsider. She weighed the consequences of denying the request and ultimately gave in, thinking it less possibility of someone turning into a ghost and less trouble it would bring. “While there won’t be any punishment for the losers, those who manage to avoid getting caught can add another two hundred yuan to their reward. And don’t forget, we’ll come looking for you next time,” she added firmly.

The students were thrilled to hear this and eagerly accepted the terms. Shi Yan looked up at the sky with a hint of concern. “I didn’t expect so many people to come. Unfortunately, we don’t have enough cars to take everyone at once. We’ll have to make two trips, which will take some time. Are you all okay with waiting here a bit longer?” she added, “but are you guys afraid?”

The students nodded in agreement. “We’ll wait here for as long as it takes,” they said.

Yun Qian, eager for the reward, forced herself to speak up. “I’m not afraid,” she said, though her voice trembled slightly.

After explaining the rules, the first group to drive there settled down and began chatting casually. Shi Yan even produced a small tablecloth from the car and placed it under a light while some boys gathered kindling and started a bonfire.

Ignoring the eerie and foreboding environment, it looked almost like an ordinary outdoor barbecue.

The temperature plummeted as the night wore on, and the wind picked up, howling like a beast in the dark. Shi Yan distributed food from the car, and the students shared it while studying in the warmth of the bonfire. Gradually, the chatter died, and an eerie silence filled the air.

What seemed like an easy job earlier became a gruelling test of endurance. Many students began to regret participating, but they couldn’t just leave without completing the game. They gritted their teeth and pushed on, waiting for midnight to arrive.

When the witching hour finally came, a bone-chilling gust of wind swept through the area, causing everyone to shudder in fear. They quickly bundled up in their coats, believing it was just a product of the rapidly dropping temperature.

“Alright, everyone can draw a card now.” Shi Yan produced a deck of sealed cards and drew the joker card. She pulled one card from each suit, ranging from A to 3, and combined them with the joker to create thirteen cards.

“The person who draws the joker card will become the ghost, and catching someone means taking their playing card as evidence. Does that sound good to everyone?” Shi Yan clarified.

Tian Le inquired, “What if the other party refuses to surrender it?”

Shi Yan arched her head and proposed, “Let’s agree on three conditions. Once the ghost catches you, remember, it must seize, not just spot you; even if you make contact, the captive must willingly hand over the playing cards and proceed back to the car. We’ll keep the fire, and the car headlights will remain on, making it apparent.”

No one voiced objections to this. 

Each person stretched out their hand to draw a card.

“Okay, now expose your cards.”

To everyone’s amazement, the timid one in their midst, Yun Qian, pulled the joker card.

“Huh? It’s me…,” Yun Qian faltered. She had just struck an agreement with Ling Wei Wei to hide together. Now, she had to capture someone single-handedly as the ghost, terror visibly etched on her face.

“It’s alright; it’s just a game. We’re merely fooling around. You don’t have to capture anyone,” Shi Yan consoled. She hoped Yun Qian wouldn’t apprehend anyone. Shi Yan could perceive at a glance that Yun Qian was the least courageous among the group, so she discreetly manipulated things and handed her the ghost card.

“Okay, okay, I’ll do my best,” Yun Qian responded, clutching the joker card while her classmates comforted her.

With all the roles filled, there was no need to delay further. Shi Yan promptly organized everything, and everyone dispersed. Yun Qian was left alone, reclining in the backseat of the car.

She adhered to the rules and didn’t peek around indiscriminately, intermittently glancing at her wristwatch and silently calculating the time.

Deep within the dense woods, beneath a slope, a man suddenly opened his eyes and began to pant heavily.

He glanced at the sky, withdrew his phone to verify the time, and his countenance instantly transformed.

It was beyond midnight, and the game of hide-and-seek had begun!

Chu Xiu had escaped punishment for not playing. His phone beeped with a message from Shi Yan. The message provided detailed information on what had happened while he was unconscious and ended with a statement that Shi Yan and Nie Yun Zhen had done all they could and that it was now up to Chu Xiu.

Despite the ordeal, Chu Xiu was grateful they had not abandoned him. He stood up, brushed off the dust, and surveyed his surroundings. In the pitch-black darkness, he could not see anything, so he decided to wait where he was.

As he waited, he messaged Shi Yan to inquire about the game of hide-and-seek. Shi Yan and Nie Yun Zhen had run east together, knowing exactly where to hide. Their impressive physical fitness allowed them to cover a significant distance in ten minutes.

Shi Yan had set her phone to silent, and when she checked it after ten minutes, she was overjoyed to find that Chu Xiu had awoken.

“Chu Xiu woke up,” she whispered to Nie Yun Zhen, who expressed genuine relief upon hearing the news.

Meanwhile, Chu Xiu was shocked to receive a message indicating that among the students they had found to play with were none other than Yun Qian, who was a real ghost. He had changed history, allowing them to evade Yun Qian and Wen Qing in the first game, so naturally, they had no idea what had transpired with the two girls.

Chu Xiu took a deep breath, feeling helpless against his fate. He promptly messaged Shi Yan and Nie Yun Zhen.

[If the student you found to be the ghost is really named Yun Qian, all I can say is, run! Run fast! Don’t let her catch you.]

[Because she really is a ghost!]

Shi Yan and Nie Yun Zhen were initially puzzled by the first message but were sent into a cold sweat upon receiving the second.

At this moment, ten minutes had passed.

The Hunt Begins.

A pale hand opened the car door, and a girl in a school uniform stepped out. She glanced towards the dark and barren woods ahead, her destination to meet her good friends.

She strode forward leisurely, passing the smouldering bonfire, which abruptly extinguished as she left.

Little did the other students know, but the hunt—not the game, had begun. The brave boys dared not to hide alone, so they clumped together in groups of two or three. Yet, one timid boy named Zhang Zhi Jie stood apart from the others. After running around for a few laps, he sauntered toward the parking lot.

Zhang Zhi Jie found it effortless to play hide-and-seek, knowing he would receive a reward merely for appearing. Even if he lost, there would be no punishment. It was better to be caught early and take a break in the car, where he could also read some books.

His plan was astutely devised. He strolled along the main road and spied Yun Qian approaching. He greeted her with a smile and an outstretched hand, saying, “Come on, catch me, and you’ll get some achievements.”

It was too dark at night to see clearly, but as he got closer to Yun Qian, he realized something was wrong with her pale face.

“What’s wrong with you? Why do you look so pale?” Zhang Zhi Jie waved his hand before her eyes. “Are you dazed?”

The next moment, the dazed one became him.

Yun Qian opened her mouth but did not speak. Her mouth stretched wider and wider as if her jawbone had become dislocated, and her skin had unlimited elasticity until it reached her waist.

“You…you are…” He gasped. A genuine ghost!

Yun Qian was a real ghost!

Sadly, he could not convey these words or warn his classmates.

A male student’s scream reverberated through the night sky. Soon after, a playing card fluttered to the ground.

The hand that picked it up was hoarse and cold. “First one found,” it declared.

“First sacrifice has been made,” a voice echoed through the darkness. The three figures responsible for the deed knew the implications all too well and hastily fled, their legs pumping with all the strength they could muster.

Now, the whereabouts of the ghost remains unknown. If it possessed any additional abilities, such as the power to conjure illusions or multiply itself, dealing with it would be even more daunting.

The blood-curdling scream had not gone unnoticed by other students. Its intensity was impossible to feign, and their hearts were racing in response.

“What’s happening? That sounded like Zhang Zhi Jie’s voice.”

“What’s wrong with Zhang Zhi Jie?”

Almost every student carried a phone, courtesy of which they were aware of the forum’s activity. Even the most financially challenged student, Tian Le, had a phone thanks to Fang Nan’s generosity. Scratching his head, Fang Nan posed the question to their group.

Within seconds, someone responded.

[What?! Did you guys actually go out to play? That’s insane!]

[Hold on a minute, did you just say you heard Zhang Zhi Jie scream? Who’s the ghost now?]

Fang Nan replied, [It’s Yun Qian, didn’t I tell you that earlier?]

However, the ensuing replies in the group chat sent shivers down his spine.

[Yun Qian? But she died in an accident five days ago. Don’t joke around.]

Realization dawned on Fang Nan as memories flooded his mind. Yun Qian…she had indeed passed away. The one playing hide-and-seek with them now was none other than a real ghost!

“Run!”

The scene shifted to a hotel located at the heart of the city.

Seated in the room, a comely man pored over some documents while a newspaper lay on his desk with a headline displayed in bold letters, reporting a colossal tragedy.

In the black and white photograph, the countenance of Yun Qian featured prominently.

Besides her face, there were over a dozen immaculate photographs of young high school students.

49 ☆ With little stars in her eyes…

In the dead of night, a frigid wind blew fiercely.

Nie Yun Zhen and Shi Yan ran in the inky darkness, their path shrouded in mystery. The former deeply regretted his decision, “Had I known…”

He should not have allowed those people to come! If only it were just the two of them, they could have played for as long as they wanted.

Shi Yan couldn’t help but also nurse a grudge. However, when she thought about it, she had tampered with the deck and tricked her into being the ghost. She didn’t seem to have the right to accuse Nie Yun Zhen.

Instead, their meticulously crafted plan had trapped them in a deadly game. Truly, they had brought it upon themselves.

“Stop talking and keep running,” urged Shi Yan, aware that further deliberations were futile.

Having run for an extended period, they breathed in the damp, cold air of the night and grew increasingly alert.

“Hold on, I have a sudden question,” Nie Yun Zhen said. With no ghosts in pursuit, his scrambled brain struggled to regain clarity, and he posed a question that Shi Yan had hesitated to ask.

“What if… Chu Xiu’s message was fake? What then?”

Shi Yan was struck speechless by a single sentence. Her eyes traced the features of the man standing before her, illuminated by the moonlight. Though he didn’t appear dishonest, she couldn’t shake off her suspicions.

‘Yes, who can prove that ‘Chu Xiu’ was real. Or, who can prove that the current Nie Yun Zhen was real?’

Nie Yun Zhen looked puzzled at her expression, prompting Shi Yan to continue, “You’re right. Given the circumstances, it’s impossible to ascertain who is human and who is a ghost. Our best option is to separate.”

“What do you mean?” Nie Yun Zhen asked.

“In this situation, we cannot rely on each other,” Shi Yan explained. “We can only trust that we are not ghosts. However, even if we are not ghosts now, they could replace us later without our knowledge. So, we must split up. Set our phones to silent mode and communicate only through messages, but never disclose our locations or inquire about the other’s whereabouts.”

Nie Yun Zhen quickly grasped the situation, and though hesitant, he nodded in agreement. “It’s best to split up. We can be more cautious and trust only ourselves.”

Shi Yan nodded in agreement. “There’s a fork in the road up ahead. We’ll split up there. I’ll take a left; you can choose any other path.”

“Very well,” Nie Yun Zhen replied, and they began to jog towards the fork in the road. Shi Yan lagged behind, gasping for breath, before finally catching up with him and disappearing into the inky darkness.

Not long after, they received a message from Chu Xiu.

[Are you two together? It’s safer to split up and avoid discussing your whereabouts. Ensure your phones are on silent,] the message read.

Chu Xiu sent another message, [Don’t communicate with each other anymore. Return home separately in the morning.]

The tone of his messages made it clear that he had relinquished any hope of rendezvous after the game.

Chu Xiu pocketed his phone and looked around apprehensively. Once he identified the correct direction, he started walking.

“What do we do? That sound earlier must have been Zhang Zhi Jie,” Ling Wei Wei stammered, clutching Sun Hao’s sleeve tightly.

Yun Qian was designated as a ghost, so she teamed up with Zhang Dan. Since neither of them was particularly courageous, they recruited two boys to join them: Sun Hao, who was in Yun Qian’s class, and Huang Yuan Wang, who didn’t want to be left alone, but she was unsure from which class he was.

The two remaining boys were paralyzed with fear, especially Huang Yuan Wang, who had been discussing the game with Zhang Zhi Jie in the car only moments before receiving news of his death. This cruel reality left him on the brink of a mental breakdown.

“Stop talking nonsense. What if we misheard? Perhaps Zhang Zhi Jie simply enjoys shouting loudly,” Huang Yuan Wang muttered, attempting to convince the others with his flimsy excuse, which he did not believe.

“What should we do now? Should we hide?” Initially, they had planned to conceal themselves for a few rounds and wait until someone was discovered before returning to avoid losing face or wasting too much time. However, who would have the courage to be caught after encountering a genuine ghost?

That was a real ghost…

The thought of being on Yin—Ming Road with a ghost, riding the same bus, and playing hide-and-seek were terrifying.

“We must hide, for sure. The issue now is where to hide.” Zhang Dan, who usually didn’t stand out, was the first to calm down. She attempted to placate everyone and said, “There are only dead trees scattered around, no small inclines, caves, or anything. Aside from the pitch-black night, there is no viable hiding spot for us to play hide-and-seek. The darkness is our greatest obstacle now. We can hardly see a thing, and I don’t know if Yun Qian is facing the same challenge,” Zhang Dan voiced her concerns, shuddering at the mention of the name.

Her calm demeanour gradually spread to the others, making her the de facto leader. Sun Hao, however, was still restless. “What do we do now?” he asked, scratching his head in frustration.

Zhang Dan’s answer was simple. “We keep moving. Standing still is not an option. I’ve played enough escape games to know that.” She turned her gaze towards Ling Wei Wei, whose face had turned pale with fear, and she continued with a hint of ruthlessness, “Moreover, we should spread out and run. That way, we can increase our chances of survival.”

Ling Wei Wei was doubtful. “But won’t it make us more vulnerable?”

Zhang Dan shook her head. “Whether we stay together or split up, the chance of getting caught remains the same. But if we spread out, it’ll be harder for the ghost to catch all of us at once.”

Before Huang Yuan Wang could question her logic, Sun Hao interjected, “She’s right. We have a better chance if we separate. We can’t fight it, but we can try to outrun it.”

Ling Wei Wei was still hesitant, but Zhang Dan understood her fear. “We’re all scared,” she reassured her. “But we have to try. We never expected this to happen.”

Although Ling Wei Wei initially hesitated to join, the lure of the money proved too strong to resist. She envisioned using the funds to buy her younger sister some delectable treats and a charming dress. The surplus of the money would be saved for the end of the semester. Yet now she clutched herself tightly and only wished to come back alive. Furthermore, she vowed never to return to the treacherous Yin—Ming Road.

During the discussion, the group of four debated and expressed opposing views. Ultimately, Sun Hao and Zhang Dan opted to venture out alone, while Huang Yuan Wang and Ling Wei Wei proceeded together.

“I’m scared too,” Huang Yuan Wang admitted, “But I’ll make sure you run first when the time comes.”

Though Ling Wei Wei’s beauty was striking, and ordinarily, Huang Yuan Wang might have had some fanciful thoughts, fear stifled any romantic notions.

Ling Wei Wei’s face brightened, and she nodded in appreciation, “Thank you. Let’s continue and attempt to leave this place. I won’t hold you back.”

Hand in hand, they sprinted forward. Approximately five hundred meters behind them, a schoolgirl in uniform strolled leisurely. Though her eyes lacked whites, her appearance otherwise resembled an ordinary girl’s.

Meanwhile, at the city police station, Officer Zhao had been waiting impatiently for the reporters to depart. Finally, after they had all gone, she sighed and hastened to her car in the parking lot. Much to her chagrin, a vehicle blocked her exit, making her unable to manoeuvre out of the tight spot. She muttered curses in frustration.

“Who the hell is this? They’re crazy!” she seethed.

Suddenly, the car’s headlights flickered to life, and it reversed a few inches. Was someone inside the vehicle?

As she rounded the back of the car, she noticed that the side windows were made of one-way glass, with only the front ones allowing visibility. The driver, a fair and gentle-looking man, sat behind the wheel.

Officer Zhao remained composed, her hand poised to reach for her stun gun. “What can I do for you?” she asked.

The young man in the car raised his hands in a gesture of peace and exited the vehicle, assuring her that he meant no harm. “Officer Zhao, right? My name is Lu, and I’m a journalist.” He displayed his press card, and there was no mistaking the authenticity of it.

Officer Zhao’s brow furrowed, wary of this reporter’s intentions. She forced a smile to avoid the possibility of damaging the police’s reputation. “Hello, Mr Lu,” she said. “What can I assist you with? If it’s information about the previous hit-and-run case on Yin—Ming Road, you can refer to the case report.”

The journalist shook his head, redirecting the conversation to a different topic. “I have faith in the police’s credibility, so I inquired about another case.” His speech grew slower and more deliberate as he spoke, his eyes deepening subtly. “Don’t worry, I won’t overstay my welcome,” he added enigmatically.

Their eyes met, and Officer Zhao felt her earlier unease dissipate. She realized that her initial manner may have been a bit brusque, given that they were public servants obligated to answer the public’s inquiries.

“Speak.”

“Officer Zhao, are you familiar with the All-Knowing God?” he asked, searching her eyes.

“I am aware of it,” she responded, recalling the repeated warnings of her superiors to quash religious sects and keep them out of schools.

“Is the recent death of a student at the Fourth Middle School connected to the All-Knowing God cult?” Lu Yan questioned, hoping for a breakthrough.

Officer Zhao’s brow creased as if she was struggling to recollect something. After a moment, she shook her head. “No,” she replied, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Lu Yan was taken aback. How could that be possible? Every family of the deceased student believed in the All-Knowing God.

“Can you confirm if the high-level authorities of the school have any affiliation with the All-Knowing God cult?” Lu Yan pressed on, hoping for any lead.

Officer Zhao’s frown deepened, and she responded listlessly, “I am not certain. I am new to this team, and the previous team leader knew more about it.”

“Who was the previous team leader?” Lu Yan asked.

“It was An Ru (安儒),” Officer Zhao replied.

“Where did he go?” Lu Yan inquired.

“He went to investigate the Yin—Ming Road. Despite the warnings, he went anyway and never returned,” she answered.

Lu Yan felt a jolt in his gut, sensing a critical breakthrough. “Do you have a photograph of An Ru?” he asked.

Officer Zhao shook her head, stating that she had just transferred from another city and wasn’t familiar with the situation.

Despite that, Lu Yan continued his investigation, believing that An Ru’s pursuit of the Yin—Ming Road and the All-Knowing God cult might lead to a breakthrough.

“Thank you, Officer Zhao. You can go home now,” Lu Yan said politely, making way for her car.

Officer Zhao rubbed her eyes groggily and found herself standing in front of the car, lost in thought. She couldn’t help but smile bitterly. Is the pressure too much lately? She needed to relax when she went home on the weekend.

The sound of another car starting came from the direction of the parking lot entrance, and Officer Zhao looked over subconsciously. A small private car was preparing to leave.

Abruptly, Officer Zhao felt something was amiss and spun around, her sharp eyes scouring the nearly empty parking lot. As an experienced old police officer, she knew that if someone were lurking here, they would never escape her scrutiny. However, there was no one in sight, yet she felt an eerie sensation of being covertly watched.

The feeling of being stalked by an unseen gaze made her profoundly uneasy as if she were prey in the sight of a ravenous predator. “Who’s there?” she called out, but her words echoed back to her from the silent lot.

Abruptly, the lights in the farthest part of the parking lot went out, one after another, shrouding the area in pitch-black darkness. Officer Zhao’s unease deepened into an inexplicable fear that seemed to have seeped into her very bones. She quickly opened the car door and sat inside, intending to start the car and leave. Yet, as she reached for the ignition, she froze.

Slowly, she lowered her head.

The safety belt she had fastened was icy and slippery, but it was not the safety belt she felt. A group of beetles clinging to her belt and crawling over her body. As she attempted to escape, the safety belt tightened around her, and suddenly, a pair of white, delicate arms reached out from the backseat and tightly constricted her neck.

“No… stop!” she gasped, but the hand squeezed tighter, silencing her voice. She struggled to free herself, slicing the belt with a knife, but it would not break. She attempted to pry off the frigid grip of the hand, but it held her firmly in place, and she could do nothing but watch helplessly as she was slowly strangled.

Before she drew her final breath, she realized the whole lot was teeming with them. Like a wave of death, the black tide surged forward, chasing the car as it fled from the parking lot.

Lu Yan tightened his grip on the steering wheel and slammed the accelerator to the floor.

Despite being in the city, it was odd for the streets to be completely empty and devoid of human presence, especially at night. Nevertheless, Lu Yan had no time to ponder over the strange occurrence. He broke every traffic rule in the book, careening through the empty roads and pushing the vehicle beyond its limits.

As he drove, the darkness kept on swallowing the street behind him. With every second that passed, the black swarm surged forward, consuming everything in its path.

He gritted his teeth and fought to maintain his focus and discern the right path forward. The tires screeched and echoed through the silence of the night, and he knew he was reaching the vehicle’s maximum speed limit.

But the swarm was faster, closing in on him like a tidal wave. It was baffling where the swarm had emerged from or why it had appeared in such numbers. Lu Yan had already driven halfway across the city, yet the swarm chased him relentlessly.

In desperation, he turned the steering wheel and headed towards Yin—Ming Road.

Meanwhile, Tian Le was running as if his life depended on it, holding Fang Nan’s mobile phone. Tears and sweat streamed down his face, turning to ice as the cold wind hit him.

“Zhang Zhi Jie is dead; Fang Nan is also dead,” he whispered, his voice trembling with grief.

Just moments ago, he and Fang Nan had been walking together when a pair of white hands snatched Fang Nan away. Yun Qian’s voice had rung out cold and hoarse in the darkness.

“I found you~.”

Little did he know that another figure emerged from behind the same tree a while after he left. The figure wore a school uniform, had a pale, blue-tinged face, and had a deep gash on its neck.

Yun Qian exchanged a strange smile with the figure before both went their separate ways to search for the others.

Good friends should always play together.

Tian Le sprinted away as fast as he could, hearing the distant sound of a car driving. He kept running forward without a moment’s pause, not caring where he was going or what he might stumble upon. Suddenly, he tripped, and his phone was flung out, landing near a pair of shoes.

As he got up, he caught sight of a figure illuminated by a flickering light. Tian Le realized that he had never seen this person before, and the thought of encountering a stranger on Yin—Ming Road filled him with terror. He quickly darted away in a different direction, abandoning his phone without a second thought.

The stranger bent down and picked up the phone, illuminating his face. A man hiding behind a tree was stunned to see Lu Yan. What was he doing here?

Upon glancing at the phone, Lu Yan shone his flashlight in the man’s direction. His eyebrows lifted slightly as he said, “Chu Xiu, you again.”

“Wait, don’t come any closer,” Chu Xiu said warily as Lu Yan walked towards him. “I can’t be sure if you’re…”

Lu Yan perused the phone and looked at the group chat page. When he saw the name displayed on the chat, he turned off the phone and hurled it away. “Let’s not talk about that,” he said sharply. “Tell me, did you bring a group of students here to play hide and seek?”

Chu Xiu replied, “How did you know?” He hesitated before quickly adding, “I blacked out during the planning. This was a decision made by Nie Yun Zhen and Shi Yan, but I’m also responsible…”

Lu Yan interrupted him, his eyes blazing in the darkness. His anger was palpable as he gritted his teeth and said, “Do you have a death wish?” Each word was laden with fury and a hint of reluctance.

He never imagined that these people would willingly walk into a deadly trap. What made him feel even more powerless was that he had fallen into such a dire situation.

Chu Xiu felt uneasy under Lu Yan’s intense gaze. “What’s wrong?” 

Chu Xiu’s mind worked fast, and his voice was laced with concern. “Don’t tell me all these students are…” His voice trailed off, but the look in Lu Yan’s eyes conveyed his correct guess. 

All… are ghosts? Chu Xiu’s mind reeled as he tried to comprehend the gravity of what Lu Yan had just revealed. But he instinctively believed him; there was no reason to doubt the authenticity of his words.

Lu Yan took a few deep breaths, visibly weakened by the information he had just imparted. “Forget it,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “Even if you don’t take the initiative, these things will find a way to come to you.”

In this world, there weren’t many living people left. As long as the entity behind the mission willed it, they could turn anyone into a ghost.

“How did you get here?” Chu Xiu asked, eager to learn more.

Lu Yan’s back stiffened slightly. He knew that playing hide-and-seek in this place without encountering ghosts was impossible. He had brought those things along, hoping to make them fight each other. But the ghosts had the upper hand, and none of those corpse insects had flown in.

“You don’t need to worry about that. I have my own business,” Lu Yan said, changing the subject. “Are those two still alive? If they are, you need to notify them.”

Without a second thought, Chu Xiu messaged the other two, and the shock of his message was beyond measure. 

Everyone… was a ghost? They weren’t playing hide and seek with just one ghost, but with eleven ghosts?

Nie Yun Zhen wished he could turn back time and undo his suggestion, while Shi Yan was gripped by an all-consuming regret.

How could this have happened?

In the depths of the forest, inside an abandoned factory, a putrid stench filled the air. The smell of decaying bodies was so strong that even the bravest among them couldn’t ignore it. If an experienced detective were here, they would easily recognize the scent of death that hung heavily in the air.

Despite the decaying corpses lying around, there were surprisingly few flies. Instead, fireflies emerged one by one from within the factory, their luminescent green glow lighting up the darkness. What should have been a romantic scene now looked terrifying on the desolate Yin—Ming Road. One could easily mistake the fireflies for ghost lights.

Yun Qian, Zhang Zhi Jie, Fang Nan, and Xie Yu stood stoically before the factory. Behind them, twelve white bones were arranged in perfect order. They were in the process of placing something on the bones, and as they looked at each other, their sinister smiles sent shivers down the spine. They sang a haunting melody before departing, searching for their other good friends.

“Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are…”

The voices of the young boys and girls were soft as they drifted through the night sky. Unfortunately, tonight, there were no stars or moon to be seen, just fireflies flitting in the sky, scarcely resembling “little stars.”

As they walked away, a girl rushed out from behind the factory, pinching her nose. The girl was Wen Qing. She had taken a taxi to get there, but it was already dark by the time she arrived. She had no idea where the group had arranged to meet, so she searched the nearby intersection for them. She didn’t have a phone, so she had no way of contacting them and could only search on her own.

Finally, she saw the headlights of a car. As Yun Qian exited the vehicle, Wen Qing ran over, but she witnessed Yun Qian open her mouth and swallow Zhang Zhi Jie whole. Even now, the scene remained etched in her memory, sending shivers down her spine.

Yun Qian… she’s not human anymore.

The spectacle played out before her once more. Yun Qian parted her lips again and commenced spewing forth bone after bone. The heap of bones on the ground gradually began to take shape, coalescing into a human figure. Before long, Zhang Zhi Jie, who had previously been swallowed, reappeared.

Wen Qing, overwhelmed by shock and anguish, seemed to have forgotten her fear. Her only concern now was to locate her fellow classmates and make a swift exit from the area.

With cautious steps, Wen Qing approached a row of bleached bones, bowing her head to scrutinize them closely. She perceived that some object had been placed atop them, and upon closer inspection, she discovered that they were playing cards.

Playing cards? What on earth could this signify?

Bewildered and mystified, Wen Qing ruminated over the cards for an extended period before reaching out to collect the four playing cards and tucking them away in her pocket.

Meanwhile, the singing persisted in the distance, piercing through the air and reverberating throughout the forest with its crystal-clear and dulcet melody.

“Light hanging in the sky, like many little eyes…”

Gradually, fireflies began to creep out from within the bones, wriggling their way into the skull. Two murky eye sockets illuminated with a brilliant emerald glow.

“Eyes full of little stars…”

50 ☆ The lifeline to hide-and-seek is ……

The song’s melody drifted through the dense forest, its childish tune unsettling in the eerie atmosphere. Earlier, Chu Xiu had suggested they split up, but now he found himself running into Lu Yan. After hesitating, Chu Xiu decided to take a chance and follow Lu Yan, hoping he had some excellent ideas.

Deep in thought, Lu Yan considered how to escape their predicament. He couldn’t be sure that Chu Xiu wasn’t some ghost in disguise, but he needed all the information he could get, even from a potential enemy. Besides, Lu Yan had already wished the deity for survival, so he felt confident that he would make it through the night.

“Do you have any ideas?” Chu Xiu asked, keeping a few paces behind him.

As they walked, Lu Yan responded, “What made you guys play this horror game in the first place? And what are the rules?”

Chu Xiu didn’t hesitate to answer, “We have to reach the Yin—Ming Road and play a game of hide and seek for at least thirty minutes after midnight. We draw cards to choose one person to be the ghost, who must catch the others. If the ghost catches more than half of the players, they win.”

At first glance, the rules seemed like any other game of hide and seek, which was why Nie Yun Zhen included more people. The more players, the harder it would be for the ghost to catch half of them. But he never could have imagined that this would lead them all down a path of no return.

“Thirty minutes long, is it?” Lu Yan pondered.

It sounded like a short enough time, but only if there was only one ghost, not eleven.

Lu Yan couldn’t help but think about the twenty-four missing bodies from the police station. The test results showed that one of the skulls belonged to the same person, and he immediately thought of the danger they were all in due to that “wish” they had made to the deity.

Their wish had caused them to endlessly resurrect and fall into an infinite death trap, even leading to the strange phenomenon of two people appearing in the same space and time.

After pleading to God for a way out, he repeated the same events multiple times, but no matter his choice, he was met with a dead end. Ultimately, he had no other option but to start from the beginning and avoid Wen Qing and Yun Qian to continue his journey.

Now, there was another identical skull discovered. Could it be possible that some of them were also caught in this never-ending loop?

Who were the others?

Eleven students, plus Chu Xiu, Shi Yan, Nie Yun Zhen, and himself, were participating in a game of hide-and-seek, forming four groups. Despite their calculations, the numbers didn’t add up.

Lu Yan speculated, and Chu Xiu racked his brain.

He had made several wishes and even played the Four Corners game at the abandoned Yin—Ming Road factory until he died. After pondering for a long time, this was the only solution he could come up with.

Who else was trapped in this cycle?

Being directly involved, they didn’t bother to ask for the names of the other two students, subconsciously assuming that Wen Qing and Yun Qian were included among the eleven, which left them puzzled about the existence of twenty-four bones.

Whose remains were the other two?

The “dead” students’ voices continued to echo around them, making it impossible to locate the source and causing them to wander blindly.

In another direction, Zhang Dan and her companions picked up their pace after parting ways.

“Don’t come near me!” she screamed.

Although Yin—Ming Road was only one street, it covered a vast area. With his good memory, Zhang Dan recalled their path and kept running forward without looking back.

As he ran, he spotted someone wearing a school uniform standing nearby, which alarmed Zhang Dan. Uncertain of who it was, she immediately turned around and fled in the opposite direction.

The figure had also intended to escape, but upon seeing the other person running, he realized they were in the same situation, so he chased them and shouted, “Don’t be afraid! It’s me; I’m not a ghost.”

Recognizing his voice, Zhang Dan calmed down. He had been the loudest on the bus, and she didn’t hear him scream just now, so… he probably wasn’t a ghost, right?

Escaping alone felt bad. Zhang Dan managed to hold on, but she believed having a partner would boost her confidence.

With that thought in mind, she slowed her pace.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, the other person increased his speed and suggested, “How about we walk together?”

As he approached her, a sudden chill sent shivers down Zhang Dan’s spine, and her heart started racing inexplicably. Without a second thought, she followed her intuition and sprinted forward, unaware of her surroundings. The distance between them widened once again.

“Hey, why are you running? I’m not a ghost! Wait for me!” the young man called out, chasing after her.

“Why are you shouting so loudly? Aren’t you afraid they will find us?” Zhang Dan yelled back, slightly panicked.

The young man’s voice immediately dropped. “I don’t want to lose you. I got separated from my friends.”

Zhang Dan couldn’t shake off the strange feeling that lingered inside her. The young man didn’t seem like a ghost, but she couldn’t be sure. She signalled him to stop shouting as she waited for him. “Speak clearly. I’m listening.”

“Okay.” The young man jogged a few steps to catch up with her. “I must say, you’re pretty brave. I don’t think I could handle being alone.”

In the dark, Zhang Dan could barely make out the young man’s silhouette. His features became clearer as he drew closer, and her breathing hitched.

He was facing her with a grin, but his body below the neck twisted away from her!

It was as if a person’s head had spun 180 degrees.

Could a normal person do that?

Zhang Dan’s instincts screamed at her to run, but fear rooted her to the spot. She might have crumpled to the ground if she hadn’t had a shred of consciousness left.

“You’re too fast for me. I can’t keep up,” the young man chuckled, seemingly oblivious to the horror he had unleashed.

Suddenly, he turned around and faced her with the back of his head. Zhang Dan watched in terror as he used both hands to twist his head back to the front, his smile fading as his face turned deathly pale. Blood stains marred his school uniform.

“I found another one, hehe…” he whispered.

A bloodcurdling scream tore through the forest.

Chu Xiu’s mood shifted instantly. “There’s another one.”

Lu Yan’s expression darkened. “Have you seen those students?”

Chu Xiu shook his head. “I blacked out and didn’t see them.”

Nie Yun Zhen and Shi Yan must have observed the students and deemed them seemingly unremarkable. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have extended an invitation to join. Countless possibilities ran through their minds. Perhaps the students’ screams were a deception, a clever ploy to mislead them into thinking that they were human but haunted by ghosts, and to lure them towards the captive students, to safeguard them.

Chu Xiu nodded in agreement, contemplating the intricacies of their task. He couldn’t resist suggesting, “There may be another option.”

Lu Yan was intrigued, “What might that be?”

“To level the playing field, the deceased students scream to expose the location of a ghost and to indicate that their numbers have grown,” replied Chu Xiu, recalling the equilibrium of previous missions.

Since ghosts multiplied by “killing” their peers, they must be weaker in other aspects. The game would be impossible if they could employ tactics like teleportation and mind-reading to outsmart the opposing team. Chu Xiu surmised that the ghosts’ weakness was their inability to locate themselves like bona fide ghosts. Consequently, the team had to avoid all “students” to survive.

“Do we need to search for those students?” Chu Xiu inquired, implying that reducing the number of ghosts was their best chance.

Lu Yan pondered the query before responding, “Let’s not take any risks. Who knows if the mechanism will trigger and jolt their memories?”

He gazed up at the sky, obscured by dense clouds. “How much time remains?”

“Eighteen minutes,” Chu Xiu replied. Nevertheless, they remained apprehensive and vigilant, despite the waning time.

The ghosts could not exert their influence directly and could only search like ordinary people. But once the game ended, and the ghosts were no longer constrained by the rules, what then? Could they genuinely escape?

The remaining students quivered with fear on the opposite end of the woods. What could they do? Zhang Dan was dead, and they lamented playing this dangerous game of hide-and-seek. It felt like they had signed up for their own demise.

As Zhang Dan screamed, the boy gently tapped her head. Suddenly, Zhang Dan’s head detached from her neck and rolled into the darkness, clattering as it went. Despite losing her head, Zhang Dan walked alongside the boy, humming a tune. They switched to another nursery rhyme and began to sing joyfully.

On the other end, Ling Wei Wei heard the scream, and her legs weakened with fear. She collapsed onto a nearby tree, her tears streaming down her face. “When will this end?” she sobbed. “Why is this happening?”

Although Huang Yuan Wang was fond of Ling Wei Wei, he realized that his survival was paramount. Besides, his affection for her was nothing more than a teenage infatuation brought about by her beauty. He couldn’t have genuine feelings for her. Huang Yuan Wang’s own fear and anxiety were heightened by Ling Wei Wei’s crying.

“Stop crying,” he said impatiently. “We have to go. No one else can help us at this point.”

“But… Zhang Dan is dead,” Ling Wei Wei cried.

“If you miss her, you can stay behind and keep her company,” Huang Yuan Wang muttered, turning to leave.

Huang Yuan Wang found it bizarre that the ghosts could sing. The tune that seemed harmless before now sent chills down his spine. He tried to think of other things to bolster his courage, but as he took a few steps, he came upon another tree and realized something was wrong.

The singing seemed to be coming from above. Was something in the tree? He looked up, and a pale head grinned at him before falling to the ground with a thud.

“Run! Run quickly!” Huang Yuan Wang’s mind raced as he pulled Ling Wei Wei along. He didn’t understand why, but he instinctively grabbed her hand, even though his initial plan was to save himself.

Ling Wei Wei also recognized the gravity of the situation and ran, wiping away her tears as they fled. The singing continued to emanate from nearby.

The runners were sprinting through the chilly night, their breaths heavy and laboured, as the gusts of wind hurled themselves past them. Ling Wei Wei was on the verge of collapsing, but she could not stop. She was terrified that if she paused for a moment, she would be confronted with the gruesome sight of the severed head trailing her.

After running for what seemed like an eternity, the singing faded away, and Huang Yuan Wang’s energy ebbed away, reducing them both to a slow and torturous pace. Their chests heaved as they struggled to push forward.

“They won’t chase us anymore, will they?” Ling Wei Wei gasped, feeling her throat parched and raw. She would have tumbled to the ground if it hadn’t been for Huang Yuan Wang’s support.

Huang Yuan Wang was still trembling. “They won’t, right?” He turned to glance at Ling Wei Wei, and his heart skipped a beat as he observed her posture.

Ling Wei Wei was bent over, trying to catch her breath, but in that position, Huang Yuan Wang could clearly see… Zhang Dan’s head! It was attached to her back. Strangely, she was oblivious to this fact and continued to gasp for air while periodically checking behind them.

In the instant that Ling Wei Wei turned around, Zhang Dan’s head swivelled to face him, grinning wickedly.

Then, Huang Yuan Wang realized why they had not heard the singing again. Zhang Dan had clamped down on Ling Wei Wei’s hair with her mouth and was suspended behind her without uttering a sound.

Huang Yuan Wang’s breath caught in his throat, and his skin broke out in goosebumps, his muscles constricting in response. He called out Ling Wei Wei’s name in a shaky voice, and she swivelled around in confusion. Without hesitation, Huang Yuan Wang shoved her to the ground and took off, heedless of the danger ahead.

“What are you doing? Wait for me!” Ling Wei Wei attempted to rise, but she had twisted her ankle. She was furious and anxious, tears cascading down her cheeks.

The eerie singing started up once more in the background.

“Searching for friends, searching, searching for a good friend…”

Ling Wei Wei’s body went rigid. That voice, no, it was right beside her! She spun her head, and on her shoulder was a bluish-white, grotesque head bearing a malevolent grin that met her gaze. 

A piercing shriek resonated through the woods.

Chu Xiu furrowed his brow as he did the math. “Another one died,” he announced. Lu Yan fell silent, deep in thought, trying to devise a solution. Turning a corner, they were stunned to run into Shi Yan.

Shi Yan’s first instinct was to run, but Chu Xiu stopped her. “Don’t run. We’re all human. We need you to explain what happened in detail. Otherwise, we won’t figure out what to do.”

Shi Yan knew that the game had become more difficult because of her and Nie Yun Zhen. She couldn’t tell if they were dealing with a human or a ghost, but she recognized the tone and reluctantly began to tell her story.

Chu Xiu listened intently. “So, you gave each of them a playing card, right?” he pondered.

Neither Chu Xiu nor Lu Yan had a playing card. Chu Xiu asked again, “Where’s your card?”

Shi Yan hesitated before taking it out of her pocket and handing it over, biting her lip. “I tried to throw it away, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t even tear it up. I buried it in the ground and ran away for a while, but it returned to me somehow.”

Lu Yan suddenly interrupted, “Did you see those things now?”

Shi Yan nodded.

She had also guessed that if those classmates hadn’t died, they wouldn’t have realized they were ghosts too. So, she tricked someone into taking her place.

“That makes sense,” Chu Xiu said. “But if we walk with Shi Yan and her playing card, we might encounter those things.”

Shi Yan shook her head. “No, that’s not right. If you don’t have a card, then you’re not playing the game.” They all knew what terrible punishment awaited those who failed to complete the task.

Chu Xiu frowned. “Did you give me a card?” He searched his pockets as he spoke, and Shi Yan shook her head again. “No, I only gave out thirteen cards.” When she finished speaking, Chu Xiu pulled out a playing card from his pocket.

Shi Yan’s eyes widened. “What? How is this possible? I didn’t give you a card!”

Chu Xiu tried to tear it up, but just as Shi Yan said it was indestructible. “Maybe it’s a supply from the game,” he said offhandedly.

Perhaps it was the card that attracted the ghosts?

Lu Yan searched himself and, fortunately, found nothing. Watching the two others distressed about the card, something suddenly occurred to him. “Wait, can you repeat the rules again?” he asked.

Shi Yan quickly recounted the rules. When she mentioned, “The person who is caught must willingly hand over the playing card,” her eyes lit up. Glancing at Chu Xiu, she felt relieved. Perhaps this was their way out.

“The question is, how do we hand over the playing cards to those ghosts? Would they take them without killing us?”

This question troubled them. Lu Yan thought about the 24 missing bodies at the police station. He remembered two crucial individuals and asked, “You chose Yun Qian as the ghost, but what about Wen Qing?”

“Wen Qing? Who is Wen Qing? There’s no one named Wen Qing among the students,” Shi Yan wondered.

This sentence surprised them both.

“You don’t know Wen Qing?!” Chu Xiu asked, incredulous.

“I don’t know,” Shi Yan answered honestly.

“Who else is on the student list? Tell us,” Lu Yan and Chu Xiu exchanged glances as she recounted the student list. They both saw doubt in each other’s eyes.

Did Wen Qing not show up?

Half an hour passed.

The ghosts could no longer wait, and their screams echoed through the dense forest. The students killed by their classmates had turned into pale and stiff ghosts, searching for others.

As Wen Qing darted through the winding forest path, she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was closing in on her. Even though she was usually fearless, the thought of being pursued by a dozen ghosts, who were once her classmates, left her trembling with fear.

Her mind raced with questions: what should she do? Was she the last living person in the game?

Desperate for a solution, an idea suddenly struck her. Her classmates had mentioned two individuals who were too frightened to play, forcing them to tag along. Who were those two people, and could they still be alive?

Driven by this glimmer of hope, Wen Qing resolved to find those two individuals. She scanned the forest frantically as she ran, unaware that her former classmates were doing the same.

Unbeknownst to her, the massacre in the forest had reached its climactic finale. Wen Qing was the only one left alive, alongside four others.

Eleven ghosts had assembled, with their sights firmly set on Wen Qing. They longed to reunite the last survivor with herself.

“Give the poker cards to the ghosts…let them have them…” Lu Yan muttered, deep in thought.

Handing over the cards was the only way to emerge alive, but facing the ghosts was practically a death sentence. Once time ran out and the game rules dissolved, the ghosts would be free to strike without any constraints.

What was the way out? As he pondered this question, ‘twenty-four victims’ echoed silently in his mind.

Lu Yan’s head snapped as he fixed his gaze on Chu Xiu. “Do you remember the Four Corners Game?”

Chu Xiu nodded, quickly realizing what Lu Yan was getting at. The factory where they had played the game still existed. If everything went as planned, the Chu Xiu who played the game might still be inside.

Shi Yan furrowed her eyebrows, “What Four Corners Game? Didn’t we already play it?”

Lu Yan brushed Shi Yan’s question aside, “Never mind that, let’s go find that factory. Perhaps we’ll find some clues.”

Shi Yan didn’t object, and the trio jogged towards the factory, their urgency evident.

“Do you think it’s possible to replace ourselves with another version of ourselves from inside?” Chu Xiu’s mind raced with wild ideas. “I know myself well and would fight back to the death.”

“Then kill him,” Lu Yan said without batting an eyelid. “Oh, and make sure you kill a few more and replace us too.”

As they sprinted forward, a figure appeared, running towards them from the opposite direction. It was Wen Qing!

Wen Qing saw the three people on the other side and didn’t know whether they were human or ghosts. She tightened the protective talisman on her body and ran over to ask, “Excuse me, are you guys playing hide-and-seek?”

Shi Yan replied, “Yes, who are you?”

“My name is Wen Qing, and I’m looking for my classmates.” Wen Qing had finally stopped running and, panting, waved her hand, “You guys should be more careful. All my classmates are dead.” She took a deep breath, sadness filling her eyes, “You shouldn’t have come to this place called Yin-Ming Road. You should go back quickly.”

Lu Yan checked his watch; time was running out, and they had only a few minutes left until half an hour. He didn’t have the patience to beat around the bush, so he went straight up to Wen Qing and looked into her eyes, “Don’t panic; tell me, what did you see just now?”

His voice was a soothing melody, its cadence smooth as silk. His eyes fixed intently on Wen Qing, and in their depths, a beguiling charm stirred that was impossible to articulate.

Wen Qing fell under his spell, confessing all she had seen without hesitation.

“Twelve sets of bones, each with playing cards laid upon them,” she revealed.

A sense of relief washed over Lu Yan, and finally, a clue to follow.

“Lead us to where you saw them,” he urged.

Wen Qing nodded, still in a daze. “Alright.”

Surprisingly, they encountered no apparitions on their way there. These ghosts seemed to be waiting for the right moment to make their presence known.

Soon, they arrived at the spot where Wen Qing had discovered the macabre display. Before they even drew near, she reached for the playing cards she had taken, only to find them missing. Instead, she produced a fresh deck from her pocket.

“This…this is…” she stammered, “I didn’t lie. I really took out four cards a moment ago.”

“We know,” Lu Yan replied.

In the centre of each bleached white skeleton lay eleven neatly arranged playing cards.

One was missing.

Twelve sets of bones belonging to twelve students accounted for.

But where were the remaining four?

Perhaps another Chu Xiu was playing games amidst the chaos of the factory’s twisting, turning corridors. But where were the others?

Chu Xiu pondered the question, unwilling to face the possibility of their deaths. While he had to come to terms with the potential demise of his comrades, he did not wish Lu Yan, a unique presence in this mission realm, to meet the same fate. Unbeknownst to him, Chu Xiu’s thoughts were influenced by Lu Yan’s hypnotism. 

With only three minutes left before the half-hour deadline, an idea struck Lu Yan. He pivoted on his heel, his gaze locking on the crossroads. He recalled seeing an identical off-road vehicle, one containing four sets of bones.

The numbers matched. This was their lifeline.

“Hurry, to the crossroads!” he cried.

51 ☆ Ghostly Staircase Game

Shi Yan was befuddled by their insistence on going to the crossroads, but the unyielding determination in Chu Xiu’s eyes spurred her to follow him, her feet pounding the pavement as she ran to catch up. Wen Qing, oblivious to what was happening, trailed behind them. Shi Yan had planned to ask her to stay behind, but Lu Yan spun around and barked, “Everyone follows!”

The crossroads were a considerable distance away, and despite their rapid pace, they still had several minutes to go. As they sprinted down the ink-black road, the eerie singing from the woods abruptly ceased. A frigid gust swept over the entire forest in a flash, sending shivers down their spines.

The end of the game had arrived, and the rules that had once restrained the ghosts were now non-existent. They hastened their pace, running for their lives. A split-second hesitation could be fatal. Finally, the crossroads emerged before their eyes, blurry and indistinct. Three cars had collided, their mangled fronts caving in heavily, while four sets of bones still lay inside.

Hindsight revealed that the game of hide-and-seek had provided them with a clue. The screams had not only indicated the location of the “ghost” but also had a subtler implication: if caught, they would become “ghosts” themselves. Thus, as long as Wen Qing remained uncaught, she wouldn’t pose much of a danger.

Shi Yan ran in the middle of the group, sending an urgent message to Nie Yun Zhen to hurry over. After sending the message, she felt she had done everything in her power and scurried to catch up.

Twenty-four bodies had inexplicably vanished from the police station, taken away for the game of hide-and-seek, right? It made sense. The four sets of bones in the three cars, along with the twelve sets of bones belonging to the students, added up to twenty-four! No, wait, something still wasn’t right…

Lu Yan abruptly turned around. At the end of each of the four roads, figures in school uniforms were approaching them. Which car was the real one? Or perhaps all of them?

“Quickly! Move those bones!”

Without hesitation, Shi Yan and Chu Xiu charged forward, their small metal knives shattering the car’s windows and doors easily. Glass fragments sprayed everywhere as they pried out the white bones concealed inside.

Though unarmed, Lu Yan spotted a brick on the roadside and used it to smash the car window with all his might. The sound of shattering glass filled the air as sharp fragments sliced through his hand and forehead, even as he tried to shield himself with his elbow. He ignored the pain and threw stones, shattering the remaining glass and retrieving the two corpses from the front seat.

The four sets of white bones they had found were identical to them. Lu Yan remembered something and reached into one of the corpses, pulling out a deck of cards. It was the key to their escape!

Suddenly, something caught Lu Yan’s eye. He spun around and hurled a stone with all his might, striking a pale-faced student. The creature transformed into blue smoke and dissipated, only to reform into a more terrifying and hideous form than before. Earlier, it had lunged at Wen Qing but was interrupted.

When the creature shattered, Wen Qing took advantage of the situation and ran towards Lu Yan, who handed her a white bone to hold. It was light and cold to the touch. She didn’t understand its significance, but when she saw the others clutching their bones, she gripped hers tightly, forcing herself to calm down.

But something was amiss. 

Wen Qing gazed down at the white bones in her arms, trying to identify the clothing draped over them. The darkness obscured her vision, but as her eyes adjusted, she recognised the clothes as the same worn by the man who had smashed the window. A chill raced down her spine, and she wondered what could happen here.

Her heart pounded with trepidation as she considered the possibility that the man might be a ghost. Could the bones she held be the remains of a ghost, too? The mere thought sent shivers down her spine. She tried to flee. But it was too late. She saw a school uniform-clad figure heading her way in the distance. As the person drew closer, she could make out the form of Yun Qian.

Even in the dark, Wen Qing could recognise her best friend’s gait. The sapphire tinge of Yun Qian’s complexion, paired with the onyx depths of her eyes, was unmistakable. Wen Qing’s feet refused to budge as Yun Qian closed in, one footfall at a time.

Lu Yan trailed behind Wen Qing, holding three corpses as he followed. Despite the macabre spectacle, the nearness of a living, breathing person warmed Wen Qing’s heart.

With a grisly sneer, Yun Qian neared Wen Qing, extending her ghastly, bloodless hand toward Wen Qing’s face. “Found another one,” she spat.

Just as Yun Qian’s withered fingers were about to brush Wen Qing’s cheek, a sudden revelation dawned on Wen Qing regarding the purpose of the ivory bones. She dipped into her pocket, withdrew the card displaying her identity, and lifted the skull from the pile of white bones, placing it under Yun Qian’s hand.

Yun Qian paused.

Wen Qing could smell the putrid odour emanating from the other person’s body. It was like the stench of death was oozing from the depths of the earth. She was paralysed with fear, unable to move or even make a sound.

After what felt like an aeon, Yun Qian’s hand inched forward. The twisted grin on her face expanded as she slowly extended her hand. Wen Qing’s heart was racing as she watched it creep closer…inch by inch… until it landed on the white bone.

A sharp click was heard, and the skull of the white bone disintegrated into fragments. Yun Qian transformed into a puff of green smoke and disappeared, leaving Wen Qing gasping for air, still clutching the playing card.

One by one, the other ghosts present grabbed white bones and disappeared. Who would have thought that yesterday’s death would be today’s way of life? But when the last student vanished, two sets of white bones remained.

“Damn it! They must have gone after Nie Yun Zhen!” Shi Yan exclaimed, her face turning pale.

The others had already come to the same conclusion. Even Chu Xiu, who never cared much about his teammates, had a headache. This mission was different, with an endless cycle of life and death. One wrong move could spell disaster. They all hoped that Nie Yun Zhen was safe.

On the other hand, Lu Yan was relieved that he wouldn’t be in immediate danger. “What do we do now?” he asked, unsure of their next move. If the crisis on the Yin—Yang Road was resolved, he didn’t mind staying longer, but only if Nie Yun Zhen was not turned into a ghost.

Chu Xiu considered their options and proposed, “Let’s wait inside the car for now.” They still had bones to use against him if he failed to show. He was just glad that Wen Qing had survived. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have enough bones. A sudden epiphany struck him. Could this be Lu Yan’s plan? He couldn’t take any chances, so he kept Wen Qing with them.

Meanwhile, Lu Yan and Wen Qing chatted while Chu Xiu closely watched him. Lu Yan didn’t seem to care about explaining himself.

Chu Xiu and Lu Yan later carried the corpses back to the car. As they approached, the car’s headlights illuminated the area around them. Just as they were about to get in, they heard footsteps and laboured breathing in the distance. As the figure drew closer, they recognised him.

It was Nie Yun Zhen! He had survived after all. They were all surprised but tried to keep their emotions in check.

“I’ve finally found you! Thank goodness. Did you find a way out?” After pondering the message for a lengthy period, Nie Yun Zhen believed it legitimate and hurried to their location. Thankfully, he hadn’t been pursued by any spirits along the way.

Chu Xiu nodded and told Nie Yun Zhen about Lu Yan’s theory. He also watched him closely, hoping to find clues about his true identity. 

“What’s the matter? Why are you staring at me like that?” Nie Yun Zhen looked bewildered as Chu Xiu stared at him intensely. However, nothing seemed suspicious about him, and he appeared to be his usual self. 

Chu Xiu finally stepped back and told him to get into the car, saying, “Let’s go.”

But just as the words left his mouth, a hand jutted out from under the car and grabbed Wen Qing’s ankle with a vice-like grip. The attacker pulled her under the car with such force that she vanished into thin air before anyone could react.

The sudden attack left everyone stunned, their heads swivelling around in search of the culprit. Chu Xiu’s heart pounded in his chest as he cautiously crouched and turned on his phone’s flashlight, sweeping it across the car’s underbelly. But nothing could be found. Wen Qing had vanished without a trace.

In the end, they failed to rescue her.

After ensuring that the area was safe and thoroughly searched, the four of them quickly climbed into the car, stowed the skeletons, and prepared to leave. Chu Xiu typed a message on his phone and passed it to Lu Yan, asking, [Now, will you tell me why you came to Yin—Yang Road?]

There had to be a reason for him to risk his life in this treacherous place. What could have driven him to venture into the dangerous and ominous Yin—Yang Road?

Lu Yan stared out the window at the inky blackness, a darkness that felt like an old friend compared to the grotesque swarm of corpse beetles he had seen earlier.

“Corpse beetles,” he murmured, foregoing his phone and speaking aloud.

Chu Xiu’s face contorted in disbelief. “Corpse beetles?” he repeated, incredulous.

“Yes, I encountered them during my stay at the hotel. I almost drowned in them, so I fled in this direction,” he explained calmly.

The mere thought of such a scene caused Chu Xiu’s lips to twitch with horror. So, Lu Yan had come with the mindset of “hunting the tiger and driving away the wolves”?

“Weren’t you afraid the two evils might unite against us?” Chu Xiu asked with concern. If that happened, they would be doomed.

Although Lu Yan exuded confidence, he couldn’t reveal his cards yet. He leaned back in his seat and replied nonchalantly, “No, I wasn’t.” Then he changed the topic. “Do you still wish to play games?”

“Our last game.” Chu Xiu recited the instructions word for word as if it was etched in his memory. “After midnight, arrive at the teaching building of XX Fourth Middle School, holding a mirror. The mirror must face your own face, and as you climb each step, you must say your name in front of the mirror. After reaching the fourth floor, the game can end at any time. If you need to end the game, you must bite your finger, write your name on the mirror with your fingertip blood, and immediately run downstairs without looking back or at the mirror. Otherwise, the consequences will be yours to bear. Also, no matter what you see or hear during the game, do not agree or turn back.”

Seated at the back, Shi Yan wheezed, “The students who were hunting us earlier, they attend this school.”

Lu Yan paid no heed, his fingers tapping lightly against the armrest as he pondered whether to partake in the final day’s adventure. Chu Xiu had become one of his pawns tasked with gathering information on the Omniscient Sect. This game seemed to offer some insights into this religious group. What secrets could this school hold?

Or perhaps the secret lay with Wen Qing alone? Otherwise, it was difficult to comprehend the time-space turbulence that occurred a few days ago. Even now, Lu Yan couldn’t ascertain if these people were still enduring death after death in the hotel across another time and space.

As Chu Xiu drove, he suddenly slammed on the brakes, causing Lu Yan to jerk forward in surprise. “What happened?” he demanded.

“I think I hit something,” Chu Xiu replied, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

Given the time of night, Yin—Yang Road was deserted. Therefore, the object they collided with had to be…

No questions were required, as the car’s luminous beams revealed a pair of ashen and lifeless feet dangling languidly outside the window, suspended from above.

The four occupants inside the vehicle grimaced in terror.

52 ☆ They were all Bewitched by Ghosts

At the very moment, those pale feet appeared, the car lights flickered and died, plunging the interior into an eerie darkness. The temperature plummeted. Shi Yan’s heart sank. The previous ghosts’ performance had lulled her into a false sense of security, but this crisis shattered any illusion of safety.

“What do we do? Is that Wen Qing?” Shi Yan’s voice shook with trepidation, but the two individuals in the front seat remained silent.

They only had two skeletons, but who knew which one of them it might attack?

“Yes,” a voice finally answered from the front.

However, Shi Yan sensed that something was awry. Whose voice was that?

Suddenly, everything spun around. When Shi Yan opened her eyes again, she gasped in shock. She was back in the same car from the previous night, yet with three ghastly white skeletons occupying the other seats. Meanwhile, glaring lights glared from the opposite direction.

She had, in fact, returned to the same situation from last night! On the opposite side, a mirror car careened toward them, neither vehicle demonstrating any desire to brake.

Shi Yan’s mind spun out of control. She attempted to recall what Lu Yan did yesterday and tried to view the reflection on the opposite car’s window. However, the luminous beams were blinding, and she couldn’t discern anything clearly. Nonetheless, she felt that none of the four vehicles was fake. Shi Yan pushed aside the skeleton that had fallen onto her due to the bumps and forced open the car door, stunned to find that it opened effortlessly.

A strong gust of wind buffeted her face, causing her to hesitate. If she jumped out at this speed…

Unbeknownst to her, Nie Yun Zhen sat in the driver’s seat of the oncoming car; his hand was also on the door handle, his mind reeling with confusion and terror. Three skeletons occupied the other seats, and the dazzling lights obscured his vision.

The events transpired at a breakneck pace. Shi Yan, Chu Xiu, Lu Yan, and Nie Yun Zhen were all bewildered, struggling to comprehend the surreal situation. They had all been whisked away to four identical cars in an instant that hurtled towards each other at a catastrophic collision.

The gravity of the situation was amplified by the fact that all four of them found themselves in the driver’s seats. A collision at such high speed would lead to certain death or severe injury.

Why…would this happen?

Despite their incomplete game of hide-and-seek, it made little sense for all four of them to return to the cars. Occupants sat in each of the four vehicles, and distinguishing the right direction proved challenging.

Abruptly, Lu Yan grasped something and was suddenly filled with dread.

This wasn’t caused by Wen Qing’s influence! The other ghosts in the hide-and-seek game only required the remains of one human being.

Lu Yan’s fingers clenched around the door handle as he pushed with all his might. They hadn’t seen through such a simple deception, or perhaps they were all bewitched by the ghosts, failing to sense something was amiss.

The accident at the intersection the day before had involved only two cars, one fake and one on their own, so why was there a third car now? Even the body count in the police station added up. The situation grew more perplexing when the body count didn’t match the number of vehicles.

As it turned out, the third car was a death trap – a fact that became known only after the incident. Had they known earlier, they might have seen through the anomaly. But the die was cast, and it was too late.

When the door opened, a gust of chilly evening wind rushed in. Lu Yan unbuckled his seatbelt and, without hesitation, seized the skeleton on the passenger seat before darting into the back seat.

To Chu Xiu’s astonishment, Lu Yan did not jump out of the car. He halted him in the motion of opening the door. In a flurry, he followed Lu Yan’s lead and secured the skeleton in the back seat.

Now, Lu Yan clutched the cold bones, huddled in the back seat, anticipating his fate. He didn’t know if the heavens intended to claim his life, but he had done everything possible to survive.

The four cars collided with a deafening crash in a moment of cataclysmic impact. The front of Lu Yan’s car was flattened beyond recognition, sending him hurtling uncontrollably into the back seat, where he landed amidst a twisted pile of metal.

The collision was a violent force, but Lu Yan felt the skeleton beneath him absorb the brunt of the impact, shielding him from the sharp metal frames that threatened to impale him. The car’s roof was also critically damaged, dangerously close to piercing his back.

The fuel tank hissed and leaked. A small flame flickered to life, a harbinger of the inferno that could consume him at any moment. Trapped amidst the destruction, Lu Yan was encircled by the twisted wreckage and unable to escape.

Yet, he remained alive.

With excruciating pain surging through his body, Lu Yan struggled to catch his breath, gasping for air. His voice was a whisper, as if he had to convince himself of his existence. “I am still alive.”

After taking a deep breath, he composed himself and regained his composure. His upper body was tightly squeezed between the skeleton and car parts, making it challenging to reach out. He attempted to press the door handle with his toes, and after a few tries, a satisfying “click” was heard. He then violently kicked the door open and quickly scurried out of the car.

As Lu Yan prepared to depart, cries for help erupted from the opposite side. Chu Xiu was in the same predicament as he was stuck and unable to open the car door. Observing someone else escaping through a small gap, Chu Xiu shouted for assistance.

Nie Yun Zhen and Shi Yan had opted to leap out of the car, with the former now lying on the ground, soaked in blood, uncertain of their fate. The latter had softened the impact with a skeleton and was in better shape, able to stand and walk. She heard Chu Xiu’s cries for help and hobbled over.

Just as she straightened her body, a hemp rope suddenly descended from a nearby tree branch. The dark sky made it difficult to see. She was unaware as she approached the loop of the rope, which ultimately caught her chin.

The hemp rope instantly constricted, snapping her neck upward. Shi Yan didn’t even have time to call for help before her body hung from the tree. Upon closer inspection, the supposed hemp rope was, in reality, a cold and slippery arm.

The hand that held Shi Yan’s neck contracted slightly. She hung her head limply, motionless.

“Found another one,” a cold, raspy voice reverberated from nowhere, and then the arm transformed into blue smoke. Shi Yan’s body fell to the ground.

Lu Yan glanced briefly but quickly averted his gaze, sprinting towards Chu Xiu.

As he had suspected, even if Shi Yan survived the car accident, some other accident would have taken her life. 

Chu Xiu was in better condition than Nie Yun Zhen, who lay on the ground, bathed in blood. At least his upper body was free, but his leg was entrapped, and he couldn’t free himself. Lu Yan paid no heed and removed a gun from Chu Xiu’s body, disengaged the safety catch, fired two shots at the sealed car door, and then pulled it with force, eventually revealing Chu Xiu’s situation.

One of the skeletons had broken into pieces, lodging a bone in Chu Xiu’s leg, and the white bones that had pierced his calf were wedged in the car door’s crevice. Lu Yan’s rough pulling motion twisted the bone, exacerbating the wound.

However, Lu Yan paid no attention; he violently yanked out the bone, causing crimson blood to splatter like a fresh fountain. Even though Chu Xiu’s muffled groans of agony pierced the air, Lu Yan paid no heed to his discomfort and instructed him to endure the torment. Lu Yan then went to the other side of the car to drag out Chu Xiu and quickly left. 

Chu Xiu did not protest despite the rough handling as he was dragged along the rough terrain. Observing that Lu Yan was also wounded, he realized he was fortunate enough to accompany him. He endured the pain stoically, leaving a long, bloody trail in his wake, obediently playing the part of a mere sack.

Fortunately, Lu Yan didn’t linger in the vicinity. After pulling them about twenty or thirty meters away, all four cars erupted simultaneously, engulfing the suburbs in a blaze of an inferno. The conflagration illuminated half of the suburb, and the seismic shockwave generated a scorching blast that ignited numerous trees.

Taking a deep breath, Lu Yan realized that his prayer to the divine beings had been heard, and he was still alive. 

“Bloody hell! We must flee this place immediately!” Chu Xiu exclaimed frantically. Wildfire was nothing to scoff at. Chu Xiu clung to Lu Yan and pleaded, “You must have driven here, right? Please help us.”

Chu Xiu sensed that he could be useful to Lu Yan, and as long as he could preserve himself, Lu Yan wouldn’t hesitate to lend a hand.

Lu Yan responded, “But I cannot drag the two of you.”

The implication was that Chu Xiu should give up on the unconscious Nie Yun Zhen. Lu Yan was forcing him to make a choice. He wouldn’t tell Chu Xiu that his wish to the so-called gods was not to die until he found out the truth. That was why he only suffered minor injuries, the vehicles delayed their explosion, and he came alone to pick them up. The wildfire was unlikely to occur.

Chu Xiu was silent for a few moments before nodding resolutely. The supernatural game had only one day left, and this final challenge required just a few participants.

Without glancing at Nie Yun Zhen, who had put his life on the line with them only a few days ago, Chu Xiu barely supported himself as he declared, “I am relying on you. Whatever your demand is, I will do my best to fulfil it.”

“Very well, I shall keep my promise,” Lu Yan heaved Chu Xiu onto his shoulder and dashed towards his car.

Lu Yan slowed his pace as he recalled the location of the car. After a few minutes of jogging, he spotted it and helped Chu Xiu into the front passenger seat. With urgency in his actions, he quickly hopped in the driver’s seat and revved the engine.

“Are you injured?” Chu Xiu asked, finally finding his voice after being jostled around during their escape. He felt deceived because he could still move with him on his back.

Lu Yan coughed up blood as soon as he spoke but wiped it away nonchalantly. “Just internal injuries,” he said, disregarding the gravity of the situation.

Chu Xiu was grateful and could not find the words to express his gratitude.

Lu Yan sighed heavily, “I don’t know if the group of corpse beetles is still following us.” He stepped on the accelerator.

“I have a question,” Chu Xiu began. “Earlier, you said the police lost twenty-four corpses, twelve students. The remaining twelve had identical test results. They might be us. But on the night of the accident, when four cars collided, one of which was fake, we left in the car we were supposed to. Why were there still three cars at the scene?”

It was a simple question, yet they could not find an answer. No one noticed it before, so their simple hide-and-seek game became something abnormal.

Thinking of this, Chu Xiu shuddered.

Was this the horror of their mission? It confuses their minds while they are unaware. They said the mission required finding a way out, but it blinded them to the exit.

Lu Yan spoke, “In fact, I only recently discovered that something was amiss. When did the extra car and the corpses appear? I don’t know either.”

Lu Yan spoke the truth. The strange things usually have no logic but reveal hints when logic crumbles. That’s the genuine challenge. Because you never know which strange things have rules behind them and which appear randomly.

Chu Xiu wanted to inquire again, but the scene in the rearview mirror made him forget what he wanted to say.

Behind them, the inferno surged skyward with a deafening boom, illuminating half the night with a searing red blaze. The flames soared high above the heavens.

Lu Yan crushed the accelerator with all his might and hurtled toward the exit. Merely a few dozen meters behind the vehicle, a sea of fire swept through dead trees on either side. The speed of the spread multiplied, and the flames nearly licked the car’s rear.

The duo inside the vehicle could feel the blistering air outside, and the car’s velocity surged to the maximum with no restrictions. Luckily, they didn’t crash, nor were they engulfed in flames. A small car bolted out just before the inferno consumed the Yin—Yang Road area.

Thereafter, they saw that the surging flames were as though they were encased in an invisible glass dome within the confines of the woods as if the massive wave could only thrash about within a certain range.

Chu Xiu was at a loss, unable to comprehend the reason behind the bizarre events, and could only temporarily attribute them to the mission.

Lu Yan observed everything unfolding through the rearview mirror with a slightly frigid stare. He knew that this was the doing of that “deity.” He didn’t speak a word, slowed down, and drove through the dark and tranquil night. Underneath the collar concealing his collarbone was a fresh scarlet mark, a reversed cross and a seven-pointed star, crimson as though it could drip blood.

53 ☆ Consequences of wishing

The entire city lay dormant in a peaceful slumber, not awakened by the sound of speeding vehicles. Lu Yan turned the steering wheel, driving away from the urban centre, navigating an unfamiliar path.

Curious about their destination, Chu Xiu asked, “Where are we heading?”

“Didn’t you plan to play the game at Fourth High School? Let’s explore the vicinity today,” Lu Yan responded.

The mere mention of the upcoming Seven-Day Supernatural Game silenced Chu Xiu. The first six days had drained him, Shi Yan and Nie Yun Zhen had perished, and the mystery of Wen Qing and Yun Qian’s reincarnation vortex remained unresolved. A divine being with omnipotent knowledge had recently surfaced, adding to his exhaustion.

Chu Xiu had never felt as helpless in any task, but he couldn’t shirk his responsibility. It all began when he introduced Wen Qing and Yun Qian into the game on the first day.

Yet, a slight feeling, deep within Chu Xiu’s core, whispered that even if he hadn’t invited Wen Qing, she would have entered for some reason. And wherever she was involved, time and space would inevitably spiral out of control.

As with this time, the game should have concluded, but they were dragged back to the intersection again. Although he had granted Shi Yan and Nie Yun Zhen multiple second chances to live, they still met their demise unexpectedly near the end.

He sensed that an invisible force was pulling the strings behind the scenes. It wasn’t Wen Qing’s participation but that “god” who was manipulating everything!

That “god” had transformed their mission into a chaotic experience. However, once the mission began, wishes would surface, dragging them deeper into the temporal and spatial vortex.

Chu Xiu expressed his suspicion while observing Lu Yan’s demeanour in the rearview mirror, hoping for any indications.

Unknown to him, Lu Yan had already made a deal with the god, trading his faith for survival.

Listening attentively to Chu Xiu’s conjectures, Lu Yan believed his choice was correct. Chu Xiu had the ability to deduce without any evidence. When he returned, he would collect more information for him in that world.

Nevertheless, he was uncertain whether his psychological manipulation of Chu Xiu would still work when he returned. Furthermore, it would be challenging to encounter Chu Xiu in another world if he came back.

“I can’t conclude anything yet. What’s behind everything? It’s not a mere ghost or monster,” Chu Xiu concluded, “With Shi Yan and Nie Yun Zhen’s abilities, they shouldn’t have…” Chu Xiu halted, leaving the remainder of his statement unspoken. Nevertheless, he believed Lu Yan understood his unspoken words.

Lu Yan’s words resounded in the murky air, “They died in the first round; thus, their fate is already sealed. Even if they were to start over again and again, their end would be the same.” He continued. “Their deaths are predetermined, whether it be Wen Qing, Yun Qianan, Shi Yan, or Nie Yun Zhen… even if they are given a chance to live again, they cannot escape their fate. Unless they pay the price and vow to the gods, just like us.”

Chu Xiu scratched his chin, bewildered. “But if we survived by making a vow, why did Wen Qing survive without doing so?”

“God is omnipotent,” proclaimed Lu Yan suddenly, his eyes alight with a fanatical zeal. “He has the power to bring back the dead, to turn back time, to create anything!”

Lu Yan’s sudden transformation took aback Chu Xiu. The man had turned into a raving madman, praising god with an almost frightening fervour.

But then, as suddenly as it had come, Lu Yan’s madness was gone. “However,” he continued, “God does not resurrect the dead. He merely sends them back to the starting point to walk a new path again.”

Real resurrection was impossible. He had searched for such a miracle countless times but always came up empty-handed. Those who believed in resurrection were more likely to be dragged down into the abyss, requiring more and more sacrifices.

“This starting point,” Chu Xiu mused.

Lu Yan gestured towards the flow of a river.

“The river of time and space flows endlessly, and like its current, the saying goes that no one can step into the same river twice, not even the gods,” Lu Yan began, his voice deep and commanding. “It draws us out of the moment of death and propels us to die once more in that same time and space. And then, it thrusts us into another moment of the river, but that river is no longer the same as before. There may be another version of ourselves, or perhaps not, for we all are mere drifters in this river, and there may be intersections.”

Chu Xiu nodded, his eyes fixed on Lu Yan.

“Though the gods may be merciful, their majesty is inviolable. Only those willing to pay the price can be granted a chance to start anew. We have paid the price, and therefore we can change our future, but Shi Yan and Nie Yun Zhen did not pay the price. How can they be worthy of the god’s gift?” Lu Yan’s voice was heavy with judgement, his eyes ablaze with conviction.

In other words, they had “resurrected” without paying the price, so it was natural that they would die.

The death trap they had just escaped from was meant for them. And while Chu Xiu was also gravely injured, he knew that he would not have survived if the “god” had truly wanted him dead.

But it was Lu Yan’s tone that gave Chu Xiu pause. His words were those of a devout believer, yet his expression was cold and distant. It was a contradiction that was hard to reconcile.

Still, Chu Xiu knew whether Lu Yan believed that god had little consequence. He had other things on his mind.

“So, is Wen Qing also doomed to die?” he asked, his voice low and serious. “Even though she made a wish, why did she still die?”

Lu Yan’s eyes narrowed as he considered the question. “She is different,” he said slowly. “When I said she was destined to die, it was because no matter how many times she starts over, she will always end up on the path of death again and again due to her reasons. She could save herself, but instead, she chooses death over and over because of other people’s sacrifices.”

The cycle was not eternal, and making a wish came at a cost. But what price could Wen Qing pay for repeatedly starting over?

He couldn’t help but wonder what price he would have to pay for making his wish. Mimicking Lu Yan’s pious expression, he asked, “The god’s gift must be paid for. Otherwise, it will be collected in another form?”

Lu Yan nodded, his face serious. 

This way, it made sense. Because of Chu Xiu, Shi Yan and Nie Yun Zhen “came back to life” at the time they were supposed to die, but they didn’t pay any price, so the “god” would naturally find a way to take back his “gift.”

“I see… It explains why we suddenly found ourselves back at the crossroads. But why did we see a third car?” Chu Xiu asked.

At the intersection, there should have only been two vehicles that collided. However, the trio was confounded by the third phantom car, causing them to overlook the peculiarity.

If the first intersection was part of a game of death, why did the third car appear after the collision? Was it the doing of the task or the “god,” or perhaps both?

“On this matter, I can only offer a conjecture,” Lu Yan said. “The third car was probably intended to screen our dead ends. We survived by chance. However, if Shi Yan and Nie Yun Zhen hadn’t met their untimely demise, they would have had their dead ends in due course.”

Otherwise, it’s hard to explain how they were all deceived by the third car.

They approached a red light, and Lu Yan halted the vehicle. However, he continued the discussion without pause. A query he posed sent a chill down Chu Xiu’s spine. “And furthermore, are you entirely sure that you have successfully passed your dead end?”

Chu Xiu’s body grew tense. “What do you mean?”

“Rewards come at a price. How many times have you wished to start over? What toll have you paid?” Lu Yan stated.

In other words, after restarting so many times, were you sure that the price you paid was enough?

Lu Yan didn’t know how he broke free from the dream but knew it had something to do with the “god.”

“I… ” Chu Xiu hesitated, realizing he wasn’t certain. He had relied on the “god” to escape the dream.

“Be cautious in tomorrow’s game,” Lu Yan concluded.

It was the last day of Chu Xiu’s mission it was easy to imagine how high the price he would have to pay.

Chu Xiu fell silent for a prolonged period, then nodded and said, “Thank you.” Yet, as he gazed ahead, his suspicions were deepening. As the car drove through another traffic light, he asked coldly, “Do you know a man called He Lou?”

54 ☆ White Bone Reflection

Lu Yan was taken aback, his expression betraying his surprise. “He Lou? Who is He Lou?” His demeanour seemed genuine as if he were hearing the name for the first time. But inside, a tempest was already raging, churning up thoughts and questions in his mind.

Why did Chu Xiu know about He Lou? Was there a connection between them? Had he uncovered something?

He should have eliminated He Lou long ago instead of letting him live until the next mission. The most pressing issue was how much Chu Xiu knew. And if He Lou had divulged any of his secrets to others.

Chu Xiu maintained a curious expression, keeping his cards close to his chest. Naturally, he wouldn’t reveal anything and only responded cryptically, “Just someone I know.”

Lu Yan pondered for a moment, his mind racing. If Chu Xiu hadn’t probed him, it would have been unusual. So he decided to be frank, “If it’s just someone you know, why ask me specifically? Do you suspect he has any connection with me?”

Chu Xiu had to fabricate a lie to satisfy Lu Yan’s inquiry, “He came to this city before, but I lost contact with him afterwards. I’m concerned that he may have encountered some supernatural events, so I wanted to ask you for information.”

“Such matters should be reported to the authorities, not me.”

Lu Yan’s response put Chu Xiu at ease. He knew he had likely hoodwinked the other man and nodded in agreement. But just as he let his guard down, Lu Yan continued to probe, “What kind of events did he experience? Perhaps I know something.”

How could Chu Xiu possibly know? He Lou was an adept hacker, only revealing what he deemed necessary through his online presence. Chu Xiu feigned recollection and sighed, “I’m not certain. But he…later on…” He trailed off as if he couldn’t or wouldn’t say any more.

Lu Yan “understood” and didn’t press any further, feeling relieved. Chu Xiu didn’t appear to be privy to much information; his questions were merely a test.

Lu Yan needed to ensure Chu Xiu didn’t blabber on after returning home.

As the sun set, the pale horizon gradually transformed into a fish-belly white, and the road was jammed with more vehicles, bringing a slight relief. Lu Yan drove to the nearby family hospital, and the on-duty doctor promptly attended to Chu Xiu’s injuries.

Lu Yan had a few superficial scratches, but Chu Xiu’s wounds were severe. Blood loss had drained the colour from his face, and the white bone of his thigh jutted out, skewering his leg. The hasty bandage failed to stanch the flow, and blood saturated the seat. Lu Yan had to support Chu Xiu as they exited the car.

After the doctor tended to their injuries, they waited outside the hospital ward. Chu Xiu surveyed the people already queued up and whispered, “Can you help me again?”

Chu Xiu’s injuries rendered him incapable of walking or running, let alone participating in the dangerous activity tonight. His chances of survival had plunged following the car crash. Chu Xiu finally realized the significance of Lu Yan’s prior statement: Shi Yan and Nie Yun Zhen had “resurrected” without a price to pay because of Chu Xiu’s actions, and the cost had to be reclaimed.

“I won’t sacrifice myself,” Lu Yan refused point-blank.

“It’s not about sacrificing you; it’s about bargaining,” Chu Xiu calmly countered. “I sense that you’re fascinated by the omniscient god. If you help me this time, I will hold the god statue for a month, record all the details, and provide video proof. Furthermore, I’ll pay the price upfront and make a wish to ensure both our survival.”

Chu Xiu had no other options and doubted he could deceive ordinary people. Only Lu Yan could assist him in surviving.

Lu Yan appeared intrigued by Chu Xiu’s proposition.

Seeing the glimmer of interest on Lu Yan’s face, Chu Xiu continued, “Also, look at my legs. You can run away if something happens; all you need to do is watch and lend me a hand.” The game did not require a mandatory number of participants, and he didn’t want Lu Yan to participate for various reasons.

If Lu Yan died accidentally, the aftermath would be troublesome.

Lu Yan fell silent, considering the proposal.

Chu Xiu didn’t interrupt, formulating his plans for the night. After a while, Lu Yan said, 

“Deal.” Replied Lu Yan, “As long as it doesn’t jeopardize my safety, I don’t mind accompanying you. But be warned, should anything untoward occur, I will not be able to rescue you.”

Chu Xiu nodded in acknowledgement. “That suffices, thank you.”

He withheld from disclosing to Lu Yan that his sole aim was to complete the game by traversing the four levels and, thus, immediately return to his world. As such, he felt no pressure when Lu Yan proposed abandoning him and running away. Unbeknownst to Chu Xiu, the danger would depart with them once the last contestant exited or perished.

The two conspirators concealed their ulterior motives and agreed to an ostensibly equitable arrangement.

“Since we’re playing the game, do you have a mirror?” inquired Lu Yan.

“I will purchase one later,” replied Chu Xiu. The mirror needed to reflect his countenance, and he needed to inscribe his name with his blood at the end. Undoubtedly, the mirror could not be too small.

After sitting for a while, Chu Xiu declined the doctor’s proposal for hospitalization and limped out using a crutch when his IV bag was nearly empty.

Their hospital was situated proximal to the school. Chu Xiu purchased a half-face mirror of the appropriate size to reflect his entire face without appearing too extravagant. Additionally, he carried a small black blade that students were fond of using for sharpening pencils, fearing that he may encounter difficulties biting his fingers later.

Moreover, he disguised himself as a schoolteacher and piloted a small electric scooter straight onto the campus to investigate.

All appeared ordinary.

He targeted the teaching building closest to the main entrance of the school. Everything was prepared, awaiting the stroke of midnight.

At this moment, the bell for the end of class rang. Hordes of students streamed out of the school, chatting and congregating in groups of three to five en route to the cafeteria to grab some sustenance. Numerous people were befuddled and assumed Chu Xiu was a teacher, even greeting him.

Chu Xiu smiled, resembling a genuine educator and reciprocating the greeting. Meanwhile, Lu Yan was also meandering around the campus, observing.

This game was peculiar. Previous games were not at specific places aside from the Yin-Yang road. So why was the game set in a school this time? What was unique about this place?

Lu Yan could not discern the reason. Just as he was about to depart, the conversation of two girls who passed by seized his attention.

“Hey, have you heard? Those who went to play hide and seek yesterday returned with 1,000 yuan.”

“That’s fantastic! They stated that it was not frightening and that they merely played before returning.”

“I wish I had gone with them yesterday. I want to participate as well.”

Lu Yan overheard more conversations but failed to catch them clearly. However, a single sentence stood out and struck him deeply: “Yesterday, those students who played hide and seek, have they come back?” He shuddered at the eerie implications of the phrase, wondering what it meant. Who, or what had returned?

Lu Yan turned to look, but the two girls had vanished into the crowd, and he couldn’t distinguish them from the others. He had to pause and ponder his next move.

The campus boasted an excellent student bulletin board, and Lu Yan made a beeline for it. With his sharp memory, he could easily recall the names of the participants in the game of hide and seek from the previous night. Wen Qing’s stood out in particular among the photos and names displayed on the board.

“Wen Qing, Class 11, Grade 2. Exceptional academic achievements…” After carefully perusing the information, Lu Yan decided to investigate further. He roamed around the campus, taking note of his surroundings.

The campus was bustling with life in the aftermath of school hours. The tantalizing aroma of food wafted from the cafeteria, and Lu Yan walked against the tide of students streaming out of the buildings. He searched each classroom but found nothing unusual, forcing him to abandon his search.

He failed to notice that, when he left the room, his shadow on the glass window revealed a forest of white bones! The wind blew through the window, scattering pen bags on students’ desks. Lu Yan looked up and saw an ordinary scene. 

Later that day, Lu Yan bumped into Chu Xiu and briefly compared notes on their investigations before parting ways. Lu Yan then posed as a teacher and sauntered through the teaching building’s corridors, pretending to be on official business.

Class 11, Grade 2…

Lu Yan deduced that all classes from 1 to 11 of Grade 2 were situated on the building’s fourth floor, with Class 11 being the farthest from the staircase. The corridor was typically noisy, and the lighting was poor.

Class 10 was in session, so Lu Yan stood by the stairs and peered through the classroom’s central window. His eyes quickly settled on Wen Qing, seated in the middle of the room, diligently scribbling notes like any other student.

After a moment’s observation, Lu Yan departed for the teacher’s office.

“Excuse me, is the homeroom teacher of Wen Qing here?” He knocked on the homeroom teacher’s office door, and abruptly, all chatter ceased. The voice on the other side instructed him to enter. Lu Yan produced his work ID and feigned interest in investigating the family life of standout students on campus. He pelted the teacher with a volley of questions, not just about Wen Qing but also about many other exceptional students’ academic and personal lives. Lu Yan, typically a man of few words, could spin yarns like a master salesman. Alas, his efforts were in vain as the teachers refused to spill any beans.

“Thank you all for your cooperation. Oh, before I go, I have a small question. Yesterday on the school forum, I saw a post inviting students to play hide-and-seek on Yin—Yang Road. Did anyone actually go there?”

Teacher Li’s countenance transformed in an instant. “No! Where did you come across that?” He speculated that Lu Yan might be a journalist and did not wish to offend him. Perhaps a fib would suffice. Teacher Li quickly shifted his tone. “That post was a sham. It emerged out of nowhere. Our students are well-mannered and focused on their studies. Nobody went there.”

“Are you sure? I overheard some students talking about it at school…”

“Who? Which student was it?” Teacher Li exploded with rage and pounded the table. “We’ve already clarified this. Can you tell us who’s spreading these rumours? We will definitely punish them.”

The other teachers nodded in agreement.

“Unbelievable.”

“These students are always playing dangerous games. We inspected the dormitories yesterday and received feedback from parents. Everyone returned home on time. We hope there won’t be any more of these lies…”

The peaceful environment so painstakingly constructed was destroyed in a flash, and several teachers appeared ready to write “get out” on their faces. Lu Yan had no option but to bid them farewell and exit the room.

A chilly breeze whipped past him as he stepped outside, and he suddenly realised. Yes, who were the two girls discussing it? Why didn’t their faces ring a bell? It appeared that the entire school was abnormal, not just Wen Qing.

As Lu Yan departed, the oppressive air lifted in the office with a subtle hint of reprieve.

Teacher Li fretfully inquired, “What’s to be done? Another journalist has come snooping around.”

Others attempted to reassure him with a placating grin, “Fear not, our principal shall deal with it. Over these years, what reporter has dared to speak up? Just settle down.”

Nonetheless, Teacher Li remained anxious, hastily rising, “I shall return to the classroom and reiterate its significance. Any bastard who dares to say anything, watch me kill him.”

“Off with you, then.”

In Teacher Li’s wake, the remaining educators indulged in the leisure of their time, sipping tea, correcting assignments, and perfecting their lectures.

Their unspoken rule was that if any person dared to pry into the secrets of Yin—Yang Road within the school’s confines, that individual would quickly meet their untimely end.

55 ☆ The Chase on Campus

Teacher Li abruptly ceased the lesson during class and ascended the stairs to the principal’s office. Upon arrival, Teacher Li addressed the principal, a figure sitting behind a desk, “Principal, another inquiry has come our way. One of them is a journalist, and the other is unknown. They are likely here to reveal something.”

The unmoved principal responded, “Do I need to explain what to do in situations like this? But as a new teacher, you may not have experience. Simply ask the other teachers in the office.”

Teacher Li agreed, “I understand.”

The principal added, “Oh, and if any students go to that place in the future, you know what to do, right?”

“I understand. Students experience a lot of academic pressure, so it’s natural for them to seek relaxation. I don’t need to intervene too much as a teacher,” replied Teacher Li.

The principal smiled, “Is that so? That’s correct.”

Hearing the principal’s satisfaction, Teacher Li felt the same. After complimenting the principal, he left the office and shut the door.

The principal extinguished his cigarette inside the office, stood up, and approached the bookshelf. He opened a door that revealed a hidden shrine. The bright red deity within the shrine appeared otherworldly and indescribable, its impression twisted, eerie, and bizarre, causing shivers to run down one’s spine.

The principal worshipped the deity with fanaticism and reverence, lost in his world.

Shortly after, a man entered the room and announced, “Principal, I’ve checked. This Lu Yan is indeed a journalist. He has strong abilities and has previously exposed the trading of human organs in a private hospital.”

The principal’s smile widened, “Since that’s the case, you don’t need me to explain what to do, right?”

The man nodded, “Okay, I’ll make the arrangements now. Let the students go home early today.”

Later that afternoon, Chu Xiu and Lu Yan met and exchanged information.

Chu Xiu gazed intently at the building at a restaurant table opposite the school gates. “I always feel that there is something unusual about this school,” he remarked his senses on high alert.

Although the school was quiet and seemingly ordinary, Chu Xiu had an ominous feeling that something was amiss, like a dark creature lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike.

Lu Yan added, “I inquired about ‘that place’ today, but the teachers’ reactions were peculiar. It was as if they knew something but were hesitant to reveal it.” He proceeded to share his experience with Chu Xiu.

Upon hearing this, Chu Xiu’s brow furrowed. “If the teachers know it, what about the students and the principal? Perhaps even the leaders behind the school? Could they also be involved?” His tone was uncertain yet resolute.

The task at hand was peculiar and seemed to have the shadow of an all-knowing deity looming over it. Previous games had caused temporal disturbances, and Chu Xiu wondered if this one would lead to similar turbulence.

Without realizing it, he had posed his question aloud. Ghosts within the game possessed uncanny abilities, even capable of transporting people through time and space… Chu Xiu shook his head to clear his mind of any stray thoughts.

Lu Yan was lost in deep contemplation. He needed to compare the experiences of all the task executors. Each task was unique and perplexing, but it became easier to solve once they uncovered the underlying pattern.

Reflecting on past tasks, Lu Yan’s brow furrowed unconsciously. In previous tasks, it became easy to solve as soon as they found the pattern concealed beneath the eerie facade. For example, in the last Red River Village incident, they needed the village chief to confirm that they had lived there for a month to escape. But what about this time?

Temporal disturbances and karmic loops made it impossible to predict whether their actions would affect the future or the past. Nevertheless, there was one thing that they were sure of – an invisible hand was controlling everything from behind the scenes.

Lu Yan’s intuition from past near-death experiences had often guided him to safety. He knew they needed to walk along the path away from Wen Qing, but the task returned them to her. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Tasks used to be small in scale, but now they were growing, involving more people and expanding in scope. Would it eventually consume the entire country, the world? When that day arrived, would there be any difference between the task world and his ‘ordinary’ world?

Moreover, what of the so-called omniscient god? How could he have overlooked such anomalies, and why had he turned a blind eye to them till now?

Chu Xiu’s voice brought Lu Yan back to the present. “What are you thinking?” he asked.

Shaken from his thoughts, Lu Yan replied, “I’m curious; why do you guys play this game? Are you being forced?”

As the number of tasks increased, Chu Xiu became accustomed to them. Initially, he had wanted to discover the truth behind these tasks. Still, as time passed, he realized that uncovering their secrets would be impossible. The secrets behind the tasks were far beyond their control, and even ghosts and monsters posed little resistance to whoever controlled them. When Lu Yan asked about the task, Chu Xiu shrugged, “I can’t say.”

Some kind-hearted taskers had attempted to reveal the secrets of the task to the world’s residents, but without fail, they met their demise. After answering Lu Yan’s question, Chu Xiu sensed something amiss. Lu Yan was an intelligent person, and his question seemed pointless. Suddenly, Chu Xiu realized that Lu Yan was hinting at something. Was there a relationship between the task and the omniscient god?

He feared he wouldn’t be able to hold on if he overthought Lu Yan’s words. He needed to focus on the present without letting his mind wander.

After a prolonged silence, Lu Yan asked, “Should we go in now or wait until tonight?”

As the afternoon wore on, Lu Yan knew that he didn’t have much time left before the evening self-study classes started. He was aware of the risk of going to school, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he might miss out on something important if he didn’t take the chance. The foreboding sense of danger emanating from the school’s leaders only added to his apprehension.

Suddenly, his phone rang, interrupting his thoughts. It was an unknown number, but he decided to answer after a moment of hesitation. The homeroom teacher, Li, explained in detail that his students had no connection to religion. He then invited him for an interview and offered to let him observe the evening self-study classes.

Li put his phone on speaker inside the teacher’s office for all the other teachers to hear.

“If you want to interview us, our school’s evening self-study is also a feature. You can come and take a look,” Li said.

The other teachers in the office perked up their ears to listen as the other party seemed to hesitate momentarily before asking, “What time is better for me to come?”

“Nine o’clock is fine. The students will be in their third self-study session by then. If you come, you can call me, and I’ll meet you two at the school gate,” Li replied.

After hanging up, the teachers in the office exchanged knowing glances, revealing a tacit smile.

With the school day almost over and enrollment season not yet in sight, the sudden arrival of two reporters was like a timely rain. It was a chance for them to make their mark and gain recognition.

Li couldn’t suppress his excitement. “Hey, Lao Zhang, have you prepared the tools?” He had only recently joined the school, and now he finally felt part of a collective activity.

Lao Zhang replied, “They are ready. I will send them to everyone now. Oh, Li, you may not have much experience. Just take a smaller knife.”

Li protested, “Are you underestimating me? I remember there’s also a small chainsaw.”

“That works, too,” Lao Zhang said. He pulled out a small chainsaw from the box in the office and handed it to Li. “Be careful not to leave too many marks. Otherwise, our class will lose points again in tomorrow’s sanitation inspection.”

The other teachers also joked and laughed, each taking their tools and preparing for the collective teacher activity at night.

“Hey, do you reckon they’ll bolt?” the teacher inquired.

“Unlikely. The owner of the establishment is kin of Professor Wang. They’re keeping tabs on them,” the other retorted.

“It’s still risky. We should have a student on duty stationed outside the school later to be safe.”

“Sure.”

Lu Yan ended the call in the cafe and maintained his easygoing smile. However, his tone shifted as he talked about his own wanderlust. His digits scribbled onto the notepad. He gently passed it towards Chu Xiu, signalling him to be cautious when perusing it.

[We’ve been found out. Watch yourself. They might be monitoring us from the cafe.]

Chu Xiu’s pupils dilated with alarm, but he kept his composure, tapping smoothly on Lu Yan’s phone screen with his fingertips.

“That place? I’ve been there too. Beautiful scenery,” Chu Xiu said.

[How’d you know?]

“The prices were too steep. I only stayed for a few days…” Lu Yan replied.

[Earlier on the phone, Teacher Li said he would pick us two at the school gate.]

Lu Yan acted solo, so why did Teacher Li say “two”?

Chu Xiu didn’t want to arouse suspicion by passing the phone back and forth, so he avoided the question, instead asking, “I’m heading there too. What time did you buy your tickets? Any advice?”

“Nine o’clock. Brought gear for hiking, just in case,” Lu Yan answered.

“Is it packed with people?” 

Lu Yan hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Very busy. There are many people,” he said, pausing for a moment before asking, “It’s the high season for tourists. Are you sure you want to go?”

Chu Xiu nodded with a solemn expression.

After a brief while, they got up and left.

Outside the school gate, many students were in uniform with red armbands, evenly distributed on both sides of the street. It appeared they were on duty. As they emerged, numerous students instantly looked towards them. As they realized something was off, they quickly looked away, their gazes evasive, coming from various directions.

Chu Xiu still had a wound on his leg, so he needed Lu Yan’s support to move; he spoke in hushed tones, “Seems like we can’t wait until midnight. Do we need to go now?” 

A chilling surprise awaited them as they arrived at their parking spot – their car tire had been slashed. Chu Xiu chuckled bitterly, “Looks like we can’t leave now.”

It wasn’t entirely unexpected. They were being watched, and someone had been anticipating their move. Lu Yan didn’t seem too concerned and scanned their surroundings before saying, “Let’s take a break.”

Their appointment was for after nine o’clock in the evening. As long as they didn’t display any intention to flee, their adversaries probably wouldn’t act beforehand. The waiter who had just served them could have doped them up with enough drugs to make their escape impossible. Four hours were left until their appointment.

The teachers in the office were puzzled upon hearing the report, “They’ve been in the car the whole time? They haven’t left?”

“Yes, they’ve been resting in the car. A student went to sweep the floor and saw the one with the limp sleeping in the back seat while the other was playing games in the front row,” the informant responded.

“Weird…” mumbled one of the teachers.

“Let’s wait until the students finish school in the evening; they got an early dismissal today. Make sure those students bring something with them, so they won’t run away,” said the senior teacher as he held an axe and practised his swing.

“Remember, everything must be taken care of before midnight,” emphasized the principal, “After midnight, absolutely no sound should be made.”

“Understood,” the teachers responded in unison.

Chu Xiu lay on the back seat, his coat covering his face, pretending to slumber, while he communicated with Lu Yan while texting. 

[I’ve just looked, and this school has more issues than National Geographic. The Chairman also happens to be the Principal, and he’s got some significant political backup. In short, he had bagged several construction projects in other places, but none came through. Somehow, he managed to land the contract for Fourth Middle School. I came across some reports on his corrupt practices, but they were all hushed up. Every journalist who wrote about him vanished without a trace.]

The word was that they had vanished, but both Chu Xiu and Lu Yan knew that they were more than likely murdered.

By coincidence, Lu Yan was pretending to be a journalist for an interview. [So, what’s the dirty little secret that this school is hiding? Is the principal so ruthless that he would stoop to violence? And what’s his story? Why didn’t the disappearance of those journalists cause a ruckus?]

Chu Xiu had no desire to deal with any of this. All he wanted was to finish the mission. But if he left Lu Yan behind, could he handle himself? Chu Xiu had always been the kind of guy who didn’t turn a blind eye to death. However, something had happened, and now, for Lu Yan’s sake or for some other reason, Chu Xiu needed him to survive.

The worlds he was sent to were never the same, and he had no idea when he’d be back. Nevertheless, he hoped that he would find Lu Yan again. Lu Yan had a secret, and maybe, just maybe, this secret was precisely what he needed to explore.

Lu Yan replied, [It’s not just the school that’s got problems; the annual financial statements are suspicious too.]

As they had observed when they entered the school earlier, many teaching buildings were archaic and hadn’t been renovated. Many classrooms still use chalkboards and chalk for teaching. Yet the school’s hardware investment data that was published annually showed that they had spent a considerable amount of money. They just didn’t know where the money had gone.

[The salaries and bonuses of many teachers in the school are peculiar, and there is a vast disparity between the new and old teachers who don’t have much background; the former receives meagre wages.]

In other words, experienced senior teachers can earn quite a lot.

[The culture of this school is rotten to the core.] Chu Xiu perused the school forum, taken aback by the intense malevolence festering within the student body. The most alarming thing was how adept they were at concealing it. Today, when he entered the school, many students even voluntarily helped out.

The sky gradually dimmed, suffusing the surroundings with an eerie ambience.

Chu Xiu continued his research and gradually comprehended the extent of the principal’s misdeeds. He sat up and raised his coat, only to freeze at sight before him.

Students crowded around both sides of the car, smearing the glass with their palms and peering inside. Chu Xiu came face to face with the pallid visage of a student, illuminated by the flickering streetlights and the handprints imprinted on the glass. He turned his gaze to the driver’s seat, where Lu Yan lay motionless, more terrifying than the throng outside. 

When he came, the students scattered, and Chu Xiu called out his name. But there was no reply. He reached out and gave him a shove.

After several attempts, Lu Yan finally raised his head. His face, reflected in the rearview mirror, was ashen, a trickle of blood oozing from the corner of his eye and dribbling down his cheek as if he wept blood.

“What’s wrong with you?” Chu Xiu cried.

Lu Yan seemed indifferent to the state he was in. He noticed the blood and used a tissue to clean it off, his expression icy as ever. “Nothing. I just made another wish.”

“What did you offer up this time?”

Lu Yan gestured to his eyes, shook his head, and said nothing.

“We’re almost out of time. Let’s go.” Lu Yan opened the car door and stepped out. Chu Xiu wanted to probe further but bit his tongue and followed him.

The biting wind stung their faces, and the school’s silhouette was nearly indiscernible in the darkness. They crossed the zebra crossing and headed towards the school gates.

Teacher Li awaited them at the entrance, his previous hostile demeanour replaced with exaggerated warmth, insisting they visit his office for a chat.

“We don’t need it; we just want to take a look around the school,” said Lu Yan, his face a mask of stoic determination as he gazed out into the dark and empty expanse of the school grounds. “The scenery of the school is outstanding.”

“Good to hear that, Mr Lu. Please feel free to give us your valuable feedback on the school,” replied Teacher Li, a genial smile on his lips. Noticing Chu Xiu’s laboured steps, he stepped forward to lend a helping hand. “If this gentleman has trouble walking, why don’t you come to our office? It’s cold outside. Have a cup of hot tea.”

Lu Yan gazed at the brightly-lit teaching building looming before them and hesitated momentarily. “Excuse me, which floor is your office on?”

“The fifth floor,” replied Teacher Li, sensing the hesitation in Lu Yan’s voice. “But don’t worry, we have a teacher’s office on the first floor too. Why don’t you come and sit there?”

Chu Xiu and Lu Yan nodded their assent, supporting each other as they entered the office. Teacher Li bustled about, pouring water into disposable cups and brewing two cups of steaming hot tea.

“Since this gentleman has difficulty walking, how about this? You rest here, and Mr Lu and I will go upstairs to take a look?” suggested Teacher Li.

Chu Xiu and Lu Yan exchanged a quick glance, and Chu Xiu nodded almost imperceptibly. He was more than capable of protecting himself. Lu Yan agreed, and he followed Teacher Li out of the room.

As soon as they left, Chu Xiu’s eyes darted around the room, his paranoia and anxiety mounting. He shivered, feeling a sudden chill seeping into his bones. With practised ease, he pushed the desks in front of the door, locking it as securely as he could. The windows were fitted with anti-theft screens, but he still didn’t feel safe. He planned to push the bookshelves against the door, creating a makeshift barricade.

But then he stumbled upon a problem. He expected to see a plain white wall when he moved the bookshelves. Instead, there was a closet that looked like a shrine adorned with a bright red statue that seemed to pulse with eerie energy.

Chu Xiu’s mind reeled, and he heard a loud buzzing. With trembling hands, he pushed the bookshelves back to their original position. His wounded leg protested, and he gritted his teeth in pain. After catching his breath, Chu Xiu searched the entire office for any usable tools.

With only a handful of bullets left, Chu Xiu handed one of his guns to Lu Yan, keeping the other for himself. His metal knife was short, not suitable for long-range attacks. After scouring the room, he spotted an office desk and promptly turned its leg into a weapon. With a few expert swings, he gauged its potential and was pleased. Then, dragging a chair over, he sat down, his gaze fixed on the door.

“Knock, knock, knock.” Three loud knocks echoed through the room.

Meanwhile, Lu Yan and Teacher Li approached the end of the corridor leading to the teaching building’s staircase. As they ascended, Lu Yan noticed although the classroom’s lights were on, there wasn’t a single student’s voice to be heard. The silence unsettled him, and he halted in his tracks.

The evening’s self-study time was far too silent. Lu Yan halted in his tracks.

Teacher Li loomed over him and smirked. “Mr Lu, why did you stop? The second-year students are still studying.”

Lu Yan responded calmly, “Which grade is this? I’ll have a look around.”

Teacher Li’s countenance morphed into a scowl. “That’s the junior high school section; they’ve already dismissed,” he tried to restrain him. But Lu Yan whirled around and dashed down the stairs. He was exceedingly swift and vanished in seconds.

A few heads popped out from the floor above.

“What’s going on? Did he spot something?”

“Why are you idling about? Let’s hurry and catch him.”

“Teacher Wang and Teacher Liu are on the second floor. They should be able to intercept him.”

As a precaution, they sent the students home early today, citing the excuse that the school’s main gate was under renovation. All the pupils were asked to exit through the back door. They had even instructed the classrooms to leave the lights on. But they never foresaw that Lu Yan wouldn’t be deceived and would immediately run for it.

Around ten individuals raced down the stairs, brandishing various prohibited weapons.

Mr Li seethed with rage, his first group activity ruined by his failure. “Where did they go?” he barked, snatching a small electric saw from a fellow teacher and sprinting after the rest of the group. But as they rounded the stairwell on the second floor, two teachers lay writhing on the ground, moaning in agony.

A moment before, without hesitation, Lu Yan charged down the stairs, only to be met with a vicious wooden stick. He dodged the blow with catlike reflexes, elbowing his assailant in the face with a savage force. The attacker howled in pain, but Lu Yan was already on the offensive, slamming the man’s wrist with a small knife until he dropped the stick.

With his attacker stunned, Lu Yan snatched up the wooden weapon and delivered a swift, punishing blow to knock him out cold. In the space of a single minute, Lu Yan had silenced two opponents and fled the scene, leaving the rest of the group in his wake.

“He must be looking for his accomplice. After him!” the group cried, darting down the stairs in pursuit. 

“I instructed the security guards to stand guard at the entrance. No one will get away,” said another teacher.

But even as they closed in, they found that Lu Yan had ignored the accomplice altogether. Da Zhang had gone to search for the man named Chu on the first floor, but he had locked himself inside an office.

“He’s locked himself in and piled something against the door. I can’t budge it.”

Two men hurled themselves at the door with brute force while the other teachers clamoured for Chu Xiu to open up.

Inside the room, as they kicked and pounded on the door, Chu Xiu had barricaded himself behind the door with heaps of clutter. His leg throbbed with excruciating pain, but he gritted his teeth and remained silent. The windows were firmly shut, and the curtains were drawn, so no one could see inside. He huddled against the wall, straining to eavesdrop on their conversation, knowing full well that Lu Yan had slipped away.

What was his next move? Suddenly, a mechanical whirr echoed in the room. Why on earth did they even have a chainsaw?

After dispatching the two guards at the stairs with a swift blow, Lu Yan pretended to go down. Instead, he hurled himself out of the window on the second floor and landed with the grace of a panther on the lawn beneath. He had purposely worn the dark clothes he had kept in his car, which helped him blend into the shadows as he lay in wait, biding his time in a flower bed.

Downstairs, a group of people had congregated around the office on the first floor, struggling to gain entry. Chu Xiu had concocted some sort of barrier that prevented them from getting in. They’d attempted to force their way through the door with a battering ram to no avail. Li, the teacher with the chainsaw, had descended the stairs to lend a hand, brandishing the lethal tool in an attempt to open the door.

Lu Yan considered whether he should help but decided to bide his time and continue surveillance. With a deafening roar, the chainsaw carved a gaping hole in the wooden door, and if Chu Xiu had been standing there, he would have been diced to pieces instantly.

“Someone must have ratted us out; otherwise, how else would he have been able to block the door?” one of the agitated voices exclaimed.

“My desk! The principal should reimburse me for this!” lamented another.

“What now? The door is open, but we still can’t get in. The desks are blocking the way.”

“Then let’s try the windows!” The towering PE teacher grabbed the chainsaw and began slicing through the metal security bars.

With no obstacle to impede them, the group made swift progress and soon climbed into the office. Lu Yan faintly heard their cries of disbelief.

“Where is he? Where could he have fled to?”

“It’s impossible! I’ve been guarding the door the whole time, and no one came out.”

“Search for him immediately, everyone! We cannot let him escape!”

Lu Yan also found it odd. Where could Chu Xiu have gone? Was there a secret passage in the office? It didn’t add up. He kept a watchful eye for a while, then felt a sudden shiver run down his spine. He swiftly pivoted his head.

The building behind him emanated a glimmer of light, casting a faint halo on the rooftop, where a figure stood by the window. Although the pitch-black night obscured people’s vision, Lu Yan could feel the weight of their gaze burning into him. He knew they were watching him. Without a moment’s hesitation, he bolted from his position.

As he fled, the other teachers soon caught on and pursued him without mercy. Their voices echoed through the silent night air.

“Don’t run! Stop right there!”

“You can’t escape!”

“If you tell us who sent you, we won’t chase you!”

“Where did your accomplice go? Confess!”

The word “accomplice” resonated in Lu Yan’s mind, and he thought of something. He continued running inside the campus, with the other teachers hot on his heels. Suddenly, a gunshot shattered the quiet.

Lu Yan holstered his gun and charged forward, ignoring the moans of a teacher clutching his leg a hundred meters behind him.

“He actually brought a gun.” The teachers were all taken aback.

“Do you know that carrying a gun is illegal?”

“How dare you kill someone?! Stop right now!”

Lu Yan paid them no heed.

After a day of reconnaissance, he had become familiar with the campus layout, which was decidedly peculiar with curved paths, irregular buildings, and no straight lines. Now, it worked in his favour as he made his escape.

He turned around and fired another shot, hitting another male teacher in the leg.

The screams and curses of the pursuing teachers fell on deaf ears as he circled around a few times, then suddenly accelerated and broke free of their grasp. He returned to the teaching building, where he had noticed someone spying on him, taking the stairs two at a time.

Who was the person who saw him? Lu Yan’s intuition growled, the question reverberating in his mind like a peal of thunder. He knew the answer held immense importance.

Chu Xiu crouched in the dark, stifling a gasp. Yet, it wasn’t the looming presence of the search party, who combed the area mere inches away, that had him shaking. It was the vermilion statue beside him that made his skin crawl. He inched away, careful not to touch it.

Outside, the searchers scurried with fervour but then halted abruptly. Were they chasing Lu Yan? Chu Xiu raised a brow, doubt gnawing at him, but what other explanation could there be?

Soon after, a gunshot rang out, then another. Chu Xiu’s suspicions were confirmed. He hoped it was a calculated ploy to distract their pursuers, not a last-ditch effort.

As the silence grew thicker, Chu Xiu gingerly shifted his weight, careful not to disturb the frigid statue. He cautiously pushed the bookshelf, and a sliver of light streamed in. A face leered back at him, grinning from ear to ear.

“I found you!”

As it turned out, Teacher Li was lurking in the office all along. He caught wind of the noise from the bookcase and sensed something was amiss. Armed with a chainsaw, he bided his time, hoping to contribute to the Fourth Middle School’s faculty without calling for backup.

The sound of a gunshot echoed through the room. Teacher Li’s excited expression morphed into disbelief as the bullet pierced his thigh, sending him tumbling to the ground. As the gunpowder smoke cleared, Chu Xiu could hear the footsteps of his pursuers closing in on him. He didn’t hesitate to push with all his might, sending a towering bookshelf toppling down onto Mr Li, crushing his lower body in a sickening crunch.

As the gunfire revealed his location, Chu Xiu acted quickly, his mind working at lightning speed. Snatching the electric saw, Chu Xiu leapt out the window, his body moving with lightning speed. 

“What happened? Did that person come back?” a group of people asked in a hurry.

Shortly after he escaped, a group of people ran in, their faces filled with shock and horror.

“Oh my god! This, this is…” they gasped, staring at the shrine behind the fallen bookshelf. The statue was bright red, like blood. They immediately knelt down in respect before preparing to save Mr Li.

Weakly, Mr Li spoke, “That guy was hiding behind the bookshelf the whole time, and he took the chainsaw. Be careful.”

“We understand. Don’t worry about it now,” someone replied, trying to soothe him.

“We will avenge you for this despicable thing.” 

“They both had guns. What should we do?” 

The head teacher pondered momentarily and said, “Old Luo, you take him to the hospital, and I’ll ask the principal. The rest can carry on with the search.”

Mr Luo nodded in agreement and hoisted Mr Li onto his back, heading towards the door to take him to the hospital. The rest of the group dispersed, continuing their search for the culprit.

As Chu Xiu, gritting his teeth through the agony, hid and clutched the chainsaw, Lu Yan eventually ascended to the top floor, standing outside the door to the headmaster’s office. It appeared that the one spying was likely the headmaster himself.

He knocked on the door.

The occupant inside probably didn’t anticipate someone to come knocking directly at the door, and there was a long period of silence.

Lu Yan persisted in rapping his knuckles against the door, a monotonous thudding that echoed through the night. The frosty air invigorated his feverish mind, which had been whirring incessantly. He clutched the gunstock tightly in one hand and the wooden stick in the other, continuing his assault on the door.

“Is someone there?” Lu Yan enquired his voice a whisper in the darkness.

He retreated his firearm and, placing his palm on the doorknob, rotated it with the utmost care. The door creaked open.

With a sudden lunge, Lu Yan hurled the door open and leapt back, brandishing the gun, ready to confront his foe.

But no one was there.

The room was aglow, with warm light streaming from within. On the desk lay a cup of tea, hot steam curling upwards. The curtains were drawn, and the windows open. Whoever spied on him was standing here but now had vanished.

Lu Yan entered the office, his pace measured and cautious. Yet, as soon as he had stepped over the threshold, a shiver ran down his spine. It felt like the temperature had plummeted all of a sudden. The source of this cold was unknown, yet it invaded his flesh and plunged deep into his soul.

Where was the person? Lu Yan surveyed the room, scrutinizing every nook and cranny, but found nothing.

His eyes rested upon the wide-open window, and his heart missed a beat. Without hesitation, he raced to the window, looked down, and saw…

56 ☆ What did he See?

Despite the towering height of the building, Lu Yan could still discern the objects below in the murky darkness of the night. A lump of flesh lay still, almost unrecognizable, amidst the bloodstains on the cement floor.

Questions haunted him. Had the principal jumped off the building? Or was it someone else? Doubts besieged him, but this wasn’t the time to ponder. He shifted his gaze and surveyed the office once more.

Suddenly, something caught his attention. A cabinet door was swaying gently, concealing a secret within. Lu Yan crept towards it, stopping in front of the door, hesitant for a moment before reaching out and prying it open. What he saw made him freeze in his tracks.

A twisted, bright red statue of a deity was perched on an altar within the cabinet. Lu Yan slammed the door shut and bolted out of the room without a backward glance. It wasn’t until he was out of the door that he realized he had been holding his breath, and his forehead was coated in a cold sweat.

When he looked at the statue, he had an inexplicable urge to prostrate himself in worship, consequences be damned. Was it because he had chosen to become a believer? Would this influence strengthen over time? Could he keep his sanity intact in the end?

Lu Yan loosened his collar, his gaze on the mark beneath his collarbone. The mark grew redder, almost as if it were on the verge of bleeding. He buttoned up his shirt, turned to face the door, and went to the end of the hallway, fading into the shadows to wait.

Before long, faint commotion from the lower floors reached his ears.

“The Principal!!”

“The headmaster leapt from the building? And what shall we do now?”

“Someone must be upstairs!”

“Indeed!” 

But before they could take any further action, the head teacher arrived at the scene, aghast and enraged at the sight of the lifeless body on the ground. He wept bitterly, collapsing to the earth in despair. His cries were contagious, and soon other faculty members joined in, their tears flowing freely.

Yet, as suddenly as he had begun to weep, the head teacher ceased his sorrowful outburst, wiping away his tears with a determined hand. “Nay, my friends,” he spoke with conviction, “the headmaster did not take his own life. It was those two reporters! We must find them and bring them to justice!”

“Aye, catch them!”

“For the principal’s revenge!”

The school’s teaching building layout was peculiar, with just one staircase at the far end of the left wing. Lu Yan observed from his elevated position as the searchers ascended the stairs, stationing a few sentinels on each floor. At the same time, the rest scoured the classrooms for any signs of the culprit.

He would indeed be discovered before long. Thinking quickly, Lu Yan sprinted to the opposite end of the corridor, reaching the restroom soon. The door was unlocked, and he slipped inside, listening carefully to footsteps drawing nearer with each passing second.

“Search every nook and cranny!” one of the searchers barked. “We mustn’t let him slip away!”

Minutes passed like hours as the search party scoured each floor, moving closer and closer to the topmost level. Lu Yan held his breath, listening intently as door after door opened, but he remained hidden from view.

“There’s no sign of him here either,” one searcher exclaimed, his voice heavy with frustration. “This is impossible. Where could he have gone?”

“There’s no one in the office,” another added.

And then, just as suddenly as they had arrived, the footsteps began to fade away, gradually growing softer and softer until they were nought but a distant echo.

Lu Yan breathed a sigh of relief, but his triumph was short-lived. Something was amiss.

He didn’t seek refuge in the lavatory. Instead, he slithered out of the window. He clutched onto the outer wall’s water pipes and air conditioning units. As he heard the footsteps fade away and were on the brink of leaping back into the window, a sharp gaze caught his attention from the left. His head jerked towards the source.

A face, indistinct yet grinning, met his gaze on the left side of the teaching building. As soon as it realized it had captured his attention, its smile became even more affable.

The water pipes next to his arm began to break. At this critical moment, Lu Yan pushed against the wall, jumped up, grabbed the window with force, and flipped inside.

As soon as he was within, he was petrified in position, and his breath caught in his throat. The voice-activated light failed to illuminate, but he could still discern a pitch-black, hunched-over figure stationed at the bathroom’s threshold.

At the sight of the figure, Lu Yan lowered his gaze and avoided meeting its eyes. But then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a head floating in from outside the window.

What could he do?

Lu Yan had encountered this type of predicament before. He had grown accustomed to discovering a way out from a dead end. He clutched the gun and wooden stick tightly in his hand, gradually smoothing his breathing, and inched one step at a time toward the figure.

A niggling suspicion crept into his mind. With a furtive glance, the figure remained motionless as though waiting for something. Looking up once more, Lu Yan instantly understood. It was not a figure with its head bowed but a headless corpse! It stood at the door, awaiting its own head!

With the realization dawning upon him, Lu Yan’s senses keenly detected that the other figure’s stance was not quite right. In an instant, he knew what it meant. It, the headless thing, could not see itself. After grasping at the disembodied head bounding towards him, Lu Yan ran as fast as his legs could carry him.

As he dashed past the looming figure, Lu Yan could feel the icy chill emanating from it. He didn’t waste a second, racing straight towards the stairs opposite the bathroom.

Faster!

Faster still!

If it reclaimed its head…

In a mere dozen seconds, Lu Yan had descended the stairs, blasting a shot into the void as he did so. The deafening gunshot reverberated in the eerie silence, and he quickly heard the voices of the teachers from below.

“Over here!”

“Hurry! Stop him!”

Those teachers, if they could still be called that, were hollow shells, their fanatical and obsessed expressions as ghastly as their cracked and bloodied faces. They looked like shattered plaster statues brought back to life. They swarmed upstairs, already on the third floor and confronting Lu Yan, racing down from the fourth.

With no time to spare, Lu Yan’s sole focus was to outrun the thing upstairs before it could reclaim its head. He bolted downwards at breakneck speed, ploughing through the two teachers obstructing his way and flipping over the railing. He landed with a thud on the next level, swinging his wooden stick with force to shatter the barricade of bodies ahead of him. Without a second thought, Lu Yan bolted into the open, not daring to look back.

The moment his foot hit the pavement, darkness engulfed the entire edifice.

Lu Yan’s heart pounded as he ran for his life. The ghostly apparition had already laid eyes upon him, and it was only a matter of time before it came for him. For reasons unknown, the thought crept into Lu Yan’s mind, fueled by the primal fear that drives us all: run.

Inside the teaching building, chaos reigned.

“Why did the power go out? Everyone take out your phones and follow!” The order was barked, and the group complied.

“Who got hurt just now?” Another voice chimed in, tinged with panic.

“Damn it, why did the power go out at this time? Director, shouldn’t we fix the equipment in our building? It’s unbearable to have it stop every two or three days.” The words were barely out of his mouth when a voice called out from the darkness.

“Director, someone else just came down from above; I don’t know who it is.”

“Definitely an accomplice! Catch him!” The director’s voice was authoritative, his orders snapping like a whip.

“Director, it…it doesn’t seem like…” The voice trailed off into a blood-curdling scream.

After a series of harrowing screams, only discarded phones littered the ground. The figure of the ghostly entity passed by, and the light extinguished in its wake.

Lu Yan continued to shuttle through the campus, his adrenaline-fueled escape leaving him with a few injuries. Bandaging them would have to wait. All he could do now was run. His survival depended on Chu Xiu finishing the game after midnight, regardless of whether he emerged victorious.

He checked his watch and saw that there was still almost half an hour until midnight. Lu Yan took a deep breath, slowed down his pace, and began to recall everything in his mind, scanning his surroundings with caution.

The God of Omniscience was once a mere symbol to him, a religion without any impression. But once he recognized it as a detailed faith, the Church of Omniscience seemed to crop up more and more, impossible to ignore, even influencing the tasks of outsiders. It was a strange relationship between the God of Omniscience, ghosts, and tasks that lingered even after the tasks were completed.

And lately, the tasks had become increasingly bizarre, far more complex than the ghosts and their stories from the start. Too many interfering factors were at play, all linked to the God of Omniscience.

As time ticked slowly toward midnight, the few remaining teachers in the school grew anxious. The school rules were clear – wandering around campus after twelve o’clock was strictly forbidden, with consequences to be borne by those who disobeyed. After discussing their options, they simply up and left. The principal was already dead, so they figured it didn’t matter.

Chu Xiu, on the other hand, stood on the second floor of the teaching building opposite the main entrance, watching their figures recede into the distance.

“Why did they suddenly leave?” he wondered, befuddled. But before he could ponder it further, the lights on the side of a teaching building went out. Not one light at a time, but all at once, as though someone had pulled the plug on the entire building.

Did Lu Yan have something to do with it? Did he cut off the power?

Just as Chu Xiu was about to contact Lu Yan to inform him that the teachers had already left, he noticed something amiss. A figure emerged from the side teaching building, and as it passed each streetlight, the light would quickly go out.

Taking in a sharp breath of icy air, Chu Xiu knew right away that what he faced was not a living person.

He couldn’t flee now. He’d collide with the spectre head-on if he bolted down the stairs. Chu Xiu swivelled on his heel and rushed into the classroom. Yet, every window was clamped tight with anti-theft screens.

He pressed his shoulder against the windowpane, the electric saw in his grip snarling and buzzing, slicing through the iron mesh as thick as a finger. Its shrill clamour echoed in the mute campus, flinging sparks into the air.

But Chu Xiu didn’t give a damn. He gouged a gap in the anti-theft screen in three or four slashes, sprang out of the second floor, broke through the branches, tumbled onto the grass,  rolled twice, staggered to his feet and stumbled away.

His wounded leg must have worsened; blood seeped down his thigh. But Chu Xiu brushed it aside.

Did he catch sight of his silhouette, illuminated by the light, flickering out of sight and plunging into darkness? Without glancing back, he sensed that all the lights in the edifice had snuffed out.

Limping towards the darkness, Chu Xiu knew that the most dangerous place was often the safest. When other lit teaching buildings went dark, the ghost had left. All the teachers had already left the school. Yet, an inexplicable black figure appeared, and he had to find a secure building to hide until he could play the game. 

But where was Lu Yan? He’d managed to escape, hadn’t he?

Chu Xiu waited for roughly ten minutes, and the lights in the teaching building situated a hundred meters to his left suddenly snuffed out. The ghost must have gone there!

With the ghost’s path mapped out in his mind, Chu Xiu wasted no time and charged towards the distant teaching building. Ignoring the searing pain in his legs and the blood trickling down, he pushed himself to the limit and reached the building farthest from where the lights had flickered.

The witching hour was rapidly approaching, and the entire campus was cloaked in darkness as the final teaching building went dark.

Huddled in the shadows, Lu Yan kept his breathing steady. Like Chu Xiu, he swiftly retreated to a building as far away as possible from where the lights had vanished, hoping to keep a safe distance from the ghost.

But the moment he tried to escape, he discovered that the school gates were locked tight. The walls were too high to climb, and he suspected the entity wouldn’t let him leave the premises so quickly.

Therefore, Chu Xiu needed to finish the game as soon as possible. Once he did, all the eerie happenings would cease.

Lu Yan had cast aside his stick and now had his hand on the mark below his clavicle, scanning the area cautiously.

As the clock struck midnight, Chu Xiu and Lu Yan froze.

In an instant, every single teaching building on campus was illuminated, the lights flickering on one by one. Students roamed the corridors and classrooms, flipping through textbooks and engaging in lively discussions. Had it not been for the pitch-blackness that had enveloped the buildings just moments before, the scene would have looked like any other bustling high school, a hive of activity and productivity.

None of the students paid them any heed. It was as if they were invisible. Lu Yan stood rooted to the spot, his heart pounding with apprehension at this bizarre spectacle.

“What is this?” wondered Lu Yan, his voice barely above a whisper. Was it a ghostly illusion? He stood in disbelief as two students carrying textbooks came up the stairs and walked straight through him. They continued, smiling and oblivious that they had just walked through a human figure.

Lu Yan pinched himself to check if he was still alive. A sharp, painful sensation indicated that he had pinched something real. He tentatively reached out to touch a student nearby, but his fingers met with nothingness. It was a relief when he confirmed that he was invisible to the students. Lu Yan pulled out his phone and contacted Chu Xiu, determined to find out where he was. Once he knew, he left the building and headed towards Chu Xiu’s location, his curiosity piqued.

“Ding-ling-ling…class is starting,” the bell rang, jolting Lu Yan out of his thoughts.

The students, still wandering in the corridor, quickly returned to their classrooms, holding their books and test papers. In a short while, the sound of students reading aloud could be heard coming from some classrooms. Lu Yan suddenly remembered what Teacher Li had said before he entered the school, claiming that the evening self-study class was also a unique feature of this school.

“It is quite a unique feature, indeed,” thought Lu Yan.

Finally, Lu Yan met Chu Xiu in the building closest to the school gate. Chu Xiu still had his mirror, and it was intact, but he looked terrible. His legs were bleeding heavily, his lips pale, and he was only being propelled by sheer willpower.

“I’m going to play the game right away, so please wait for me downstairs,” Chu Xiu said, taking out his mirror. “I’ve calculated that I won’t take more than ten minutes to get to the fourth floor at my current speed. If I don’t give you a warning after ten minutes, you should leave immediately.”

Chu Xiu could have followed the game rules and left immediately after the game ended. However, when he and Lu Yan were separated, the other party must have gathered a certain amount of information, and he hoped to learn something. So he was ready to delay as much time as possible.

Lu Yan acquiesced with a nod and supplemented, “When you’re in danger, a warning is necessary, and I’ll reciprocate.”

“Agreed. A gunshot will be the signal.”

Hearing that, Lu Yan reached out, “I’m out of ammo.”

Chu Xiu responded, “It’s my oversight.” After speaking, he took two rounds from his magazine and handed them to Lu Yan.

Next, Chu Xiu limped into the building. Lu Yan watched everything unfold from a distance.

The sound of students reading aloud resonated from within the edifice. Chu Xiu retrieved a mirror, positioned it to his face and said his name, advancing to the first stair.

“Chu Xiu.”

“Chu Xiu.”

His eyes never left the mirror, one hand grasping the railing, the other clasping the mirror, ascending the stairs step by step. It was queer to hear his own name, but Chu Xiu didn’t detect anything peculiar after reaching the first floor. However, when he called out his name, he felt somewhat awkward. He descended to the next floor.

Stepping down one level. “Chu Xiu.”

Second level. “Chu Xiu.”

Upon reaching the third level, Chu Xiu’s voice faltered momentarily.

The image in the mirror…changed.

The mirror fogged up, becoming hazy and hard to see. Chu Xiu had to reach out and wipe it clean. But as he finished wiping, he was startled to find his reflection with a bluish-purple complexion and white, rolling eyes – the face of a dead person!

His own face!

He shuddered but couldn’t stop walking, continuing up the stairs. Each step he took decayed the dead face in the mirror more. At first, it was barely noticeable, but it became increasingly obvious as he climbed higher. On the last step of the second floor, the person’s face in the mirror was unrecognizable, terrifying, and disgusting.

Remaining calm was his only option. Chu Xiu took a deep breath, changed direction, and headed to the third floor.

The scene in the mirror changed once again, and Chu Xiu stood frozen, trembling hand holding the mirror so much that he could hardly hold it. In the mirror, the face of a woman he knew very well appeared – Chu Xian, his sister.

“Sleeve? Is that you? Where are you?” Chu Xian’s voice came from the mirror. Chu Xian always liked to call him Sleeve, a nickname she especially gave him.

Chu Xiu called his name, “Chu Xiu,” and continued up the stairs. 

“Hey? Sleeve, don’t scare me. Where are you?” Chu Xian looked puzzled, searching around in the mirror.

Chu Xiu’s lungs burned as he struggled to catch his breath. Suddenly, a memory resurfaced in his mind. Before they were thrown into this wretched world of tasks, Chu Xian told him about a day when she heard him calling her name while she was alone. He hadn’t believed her then and dismissed it as a mere hallucination. But after listening to the recording at her insistence, both siblings felt uneasy. Chu Xiu had stayed with her the whole day, but the eerie occurrence never repeated. Eventually, Chu Xian forgot about it.

“Chu Xiu,” he called out again.

In the mirror, Chu Xian’s face twisted with fear as she frantically searched for the source of the voice.

“Don’t try to scare me, or I’ll beat you up,” Chu Xian threatened as she barged into the room. However, after scouring every corner of the house and finding nothing, she heard the voice again. Fear etched on her face; she couldn’t hide it any longer.

“Chu Xiu,” the voice echoed, sending shivers down his spine. His mind raced as he struggled to understand what was happening. Why was his current task affecting his past world?

In the mirror, Chu Xian pulled out her phone and began recording a few sentences of Chu Xiu’s voice. Hastily, she fled the house, leaving the mirror image to fade into darkness. He had reached the fourth floor. 

Taking a deep breath, Chu Xiu wiped away a tear and continued to climb. His eyes remained glued to the mirror.

Suddenly, he saw Lu Yan’s figure lurking in the corner of the reflection. How had he made it up here? Chu Xiu dared not turn around when the game rules prohibited it. Instead, he turned the corner and stood at the staircase on the fourth floor.

Lu Yan followed up on Chu Xiu without mentioning that ten minutes had already elapsed. Seizing the brief window earlier, he quickly scanned the building across the street. The teaching building was calm, and the instructors were busy teaching their classes. Lu Yan tried to use the mirror to spy on the group of people, but he saw nothing in the reflection.

That black silhouette had vanished.

Puzzled, Lu Yan couldn’t fathom the reason. Without any answers, he decided to keep pace with Chu Xiu, who walked with a confused expression, taking one step and halting the next as if he had seen something strange in the mirror.

Lu Yan was cautious, avoiding angles that would reflect his image in the mirror while monitoring their progress with his wristwatch. What he failed to realize was that this task was routine.

If not for the “deity’s” interference, Chu Xiu and his friends would have randomly selected two ordinary students to play the game and might have survived or died before reaching the Yin—Yang Road. The second and third-day horror games would have been a simple affair, and they would not have been trapped in the cycle of reincarnation.

The last day’s mirror game was supposed to occur on the fourth day. They would have encountered the dark figure and the eerie sight of students attending classes on campus. Through the games and the students they met over the next three days, they would have to unravel the school’s mystery to escape.

However, their task had been wholly disrupted, and the normal flow of time and space was out of control. Only Chu Xiu and Lu Yan remained, unaware of the truth.

Chu Xiu was once again confronted with a situation beyond his control. In the mirror, he saw himself and Chu Xian performing a task in the past.

In the past, he was not like the present. Chu Xiu had attempted to encourage the taskers to cooperate and assist one another. After all, individual strength was insufficient, and unity provided the only chance of survival. Chu Xian instilled this idea in him, who was intelligent and courageous but a dreamer, far removed from reality.

The mission was drawing to a close. Chu Xiu watched helplessly as the task member he had rescued to survive turned on Chu Xian, causing her to lag behind as they fled before ultimately being devoured by a monster. In that instant of returning to the real world,  Chu Xiu personally strangled the traitor and left with Chu Xian’s corpse. From that day forth, he vowed never to save another person again. To Chu Xiu, everyone was just a pawn to be used.

Now, as he looked into the mirror, the scene was playing out once more, and he desperately wanted to shout out to Chu Xian to tell her to hide. He gasped for breath, his eyes bulging as he tightly grasped the mirror. A knife materialized behind Chu Xian, poised to strike. 

Chu Xiu shouted recklessly, “Hide, Chu Xian! Hide!” He reached out and pushed away the blade, succeeding in saving her.

In the mirror, Chu Xian revealed a strange smile, grabbed Chu Xiu’s hand, and extended it into the glass, yanking him into the mirror. As the mirror fell in the hallway, Lu Yan caught it with the reverse side facing him, not daring to touch the reflective surface. He stood there, frozen, pondering what Chu Xiu had witnessed. Who was Chu Xian? And what was on the front of the mirror? Would Chu Xiu meet his demise?

The bell rang, signalling the end of class. Lu Yan believed the students couldn’t see him and didn’t move. But to his surprise, groups of students walked out of the classroom one after another. They quickly spotted the stranger on the stairs, their eyes fixed on him.

57 ☆ The Mirror World

One by one, the students emerged from their classrooms, their feet dragging along the dull linoleum floors. The lights in the hallway flickered erratically, casting a sickly pallor over the scene. The students did not shriek or giggle as they usually would but instead stood in eerie silence, their eyes fixed on a figure in their midst.

A strange man, bearing a mirror.

Lu Yan stood motionless, his gaze shifting to the students gathered on the lower level. They, too, had ascended the stairs and now stood at a respectful distance, their faces blurred and indistinct, as though they had been rubbed raw. But despite their spectral appearance, Lu Yan felt no fear. These students seemed to pose no threat, simply watching him with an otherworldly curiosity.

Had the ghosts stopped killing people? Or was it that he hadn’t triggered the death mechanism? Perhaps, he thought, God was blessing him.

But the idea was preposterous, even to himself.

The group of students didn’t move, and he waited for another two minutes, trying to gauge their intentions. But he couldn’t shake off the feeling of discomfort, the sense that something was off-kilter. He decided to move out of the hallway and find a glass window to use the reflection to see what was in the mirror.

As he lifted his hand, all the students raised theirs in unison. They still stared at him, their expressions unchanged, but he felt a physiological shiver running down his spine, a premonition of death descending on him.

His movement stopped, and he tried to suppress the involuntary tremor in his body.

Why had they reacted like that?

Was it because he’d moved?

‘Does motion trigger death?’ Lu Yan struggled to comprehend the thought, but he had faced countless inexplicable events in his past. This possibility wasn’t the most outrageous one he had encountered. In the world of ghosts, the rules were chaotic and distorted, having no relation to the karmic retribution in traditional ghost tales. Lu Yan had survived numerous missions by barely grasping some of the rules.

The mirror he clutched sent shivers down his spine. He thought it was just his imagination, but he noticed the thin layer of frost on his fingertips.

Putting down the mirror and running far away seemed like the best action. Even though Chu Xiu had been absorbed into the mirror, he hadn’t paid the price for his wish yet, so he couldn’t die yet.

Lu Yan rubbed the mirror’s smooth surface, perplexed about his next move. At that moment, the lights in the distant teaching building flickered off.

The group of students turned their heads to the darkened building, fear etched on their faces. Even Lu Yan’s heart trembled, for that figure was coming for him!

He attempted to flee, but as he lifted his foot, the group of students all turned to face him, their calm and inorganic eyes lacking any malice. Nevertheless, Lu Yan sensed that he would meet his end if he took that step.

Thus, he halted in his tracks. His brain worked furiously, searching for a way out. The lights were gradually dying out building by building as if the footsteps of death were drawing closer. The students began to stir but still crowded in the corridor outside the door, reluctant to leave.

Before long, the darkness will consume their building too.

The lights flickered and died out, casting the hallway into darkness one by one. Lu Yan could hear the footsteps clattering up the stairs, each step reverberating through his bones. His heart pounded fiercely in his chest, like a war drum in battle. Desperately searching for a hiding place, he scanned his surroundings with growing anxiety but found nothing.

A dangerous idea bloomed in his mind, a mad gamble with life-threatening stakes. He knelt slowly and carefully, laying the mirror flat on the ground, facing upwards. It was an ordinary-looking mirror, reflecting the dimly lit ceiling. But something was off, and Lu Yan sensed it without being able to put his finger on what exactly.

The figure had already reached the corner of the third floor, and the lights on that level extinguished, plunging everything into absolute darkness. The figure, a pale face shrouded in shadows, turned to him. Lu Yan had an uncanny sense that he knew the face yet couldn’t recall where he had seen it.

His attention quickly shifted back to the mirror. He could see the other students if he could find the right angle. Lu Yan knew he had to enter the world inside the mirror, find Chu Xiu, and complete the game to survive.

Without warning, a bony hand shot out from the darkness, seized his ankle with an icy grip and yanked him into the mirror. As soon as he landed on the other side, his eyes widened in disbelief. He was in a classroom, surrounded by other students, all focused on their lessons, just like any other day. A stern teacher glared at him from the podium, demanding an explanation.

“Lu Yan, why did you suddenly stand up?” the teacher barked, his eyes boring into him with cold disapproval. The other students turned to look at him in eerie unison; their gazes were piercing and accusatory.

Lu Yan’s heart raced as he looked around the unfamiliar school, his mind churning with confusion. The Fourth Middle School? This wasn’t his school, of that he was sure. The uniforms worn by the students around him were indeed from the Fourth Middle School, but the teacher standing at the podium had a familiarity about him. Lu Yan had some impression of the man; he was one of the members who had chased after him just moments ago.

“Teacher,” Lu Yan spoke calmly, “I want to go to the toilet.”

The teacher’s face twisted with displeasure, but he begrudgingly waved his hand and allowed Lu Yan to leave. Lu Yan walked out of the classroom door, the eerie gaze of his classmates following him. The sky above was heavy and gloomy as if layers of thick, dark clouds had covered the sunlight. Lu Yan had been on many missions with taskers before and found himself in alternate spaces like this many times. He could leave as long as he found the centre of the world and solved the puzzle. But where was the key to the world in the mirror? And where was Chu Xiu? If he was dead, it would be very troublesome for him to leave.

Comparing the current scene with his recollection of the campus, Lu Yan strolled towards the lavatory. Even though everything was exactly the same, he felt something eerie about it, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

What was wrong?

As he arrived at the end of the corridor, Lu Yan noticed a mirror outside the toilet. His reflection stared back at him, and it wasn’t until this moment that he suddenly returned to his senses. There were no class signs outside the classrooms he had just passed, and there wasn’t even any writing on the blackboard, as if they feared he would discover something.

Staring into his reflection, Lu Yan noticed his appearance was slightly different.

The faces of ordinary people were not perfectly symmetrical; what they saw in the mirror was the opposite reflection of themselves. Lu Yan was intimately acquainted with his face, right down to the small mole above his left eyelid. But in the reflection, the mole sat inexplicably on his left eyelid. Was this a consequence of a reflected image? He lowered his hand and stepped back to examine the curious occurrence. Despite the discrepancy, the group of people around him seemed to be oblivious to anything awry.

Abruptly, he collided with a figure behind him. As though it was a reflex, he stiffened before taking two quick steps into the restroom doorway. His thoughts raced; why did the figure not appear in the mirror? What could be behind him? Should he turn around?

“What are you doing here? Aren’t you going to class?” a voice demanded from behind.

Lu Yan steadied himself and pivoted, only to find a middle-aged man suspiciously regarding him. It was him. The shadow that had appeared inexplicably on campus! He was dressed as a typical security guard, patrolling the grounds, encountering a student who had strayed from their path.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” Lu Yan replied, his instincts telling him that the man was far from ordinary. He pivoted back to the sink and turned on the faucet, his heart pounding, yet his gaze remained fixed on the mirror without blinking. His reflection remained the only thing in sight.

After he finished washing his hands, he calmly walked past the man. In that fleeting moment, he tilted his head slightly and looked back through the slanted glass window, the other man doing the same. Something about him felt familiar, but Lu Yan couldn’t put his finger on it. Who was he?

He strode down the corridor, his mind made up. The classroom was the last place he wanted to be, and he had no intention of returning. He pretended to head towards the classroom, then swiftly turned and ran downstairs.

“Hey, wait! Aren’t you supposed to go back to the classroom?” The security guard was taken aback by the audacity of the student who had brazenly skipped class. He gave chase, but by the time he reached the stairs, the student had vanished into thin air. The guard searched the first floor but found no trace of him.

Lu Yan went to another teaching building, determined to find the principal’s office and try his luck there.

In this world of mirrors, did a “god” also exist?

He sensed someone watching him as he bounded down the stairs. He looked up and saw the security guard staring at him. After a brief moment of eye contact, Lu Yan sprinted towards the principal’s building.

As soon as he ascended the stairs, a figure descended from above. They stared at each other, both stunned.

“Chu Xiu?”

“Lu Yan?”

Lu Yan regarded the other person suspiciously. “What are you doing here?” He remembered the man had witnessed a melancholy scene and was dragged into the mirror world. Lu Yan had assumed he was possessed by a demon, but it now appeared that a ghost had pulled him into this otherworldly place.

Chu Xiu was equally curious. “Never mind me. Why are you here?”

Lu Yan briefly recounted his situation. Chu Xiu had been on his way out of the building, but now he accompanied Lu Yan, hobbling along with some difficulty.

“Why are you going to see the principal? I suspect the abnormality of the entire school is related to him.”

“It is indeed related to him and that ‘god’,” Lu Yan explained. “There is a statue of the god in his office.”

“Why are they everywhere?” Chu Xiu grasped the gravity of the situation. A few days ago, the game was thrown into chaos because of its involvement. If this game had its shadow, too, it could only mean…

The two soon arrived at the door of the principal’s office. They knocked but received no answer. They picked the lock and entered without hesitation, shutting the door behind them. No one was in the office, and they had no idea where the principal had gone.

“Where’s the statue you mentioned?” Chu Xiu asked.

Lu Yan lifted his chin slightly and approached the bookshelf. Chu Xiu mentally prepared himself before gently opening the cabinet door. The vivid red statue resembled blood and had an eerie and twisted appearance. Chu Xiu immediately closed the cabinet door.

“You made a promise earlier, and now it’s time to fulfil it,” Lu Yan gestured, his intent clear.

“We’re still in the mirror; we haven’t left yet. Can we wait until we’re out before we discuss this?” Chu Xiu said firmly, unwavering in his resolve. “I won’t go back on my word, and I’ll record a video to prove it.”

Lu Yan pondered for a moment before slowly shaking his head. He wanted to know whether the “gods” in his own world could affect people from another world. After he finished the game and left, where would he find Chu Xiu again?

Chu Xiu looked troubled, thinking of possible arguments when the sound of a lock being opened suddenly came from outside the door.

This was bad!

The two of them exchanged glances, seeing the same meaning in each other’s eyes. They immediately dodged behind the furniture, taking cover in the spacious and luxurious principal’s office.

One of them hid behind the curtains of the wall bookshelf. In contrast, the other hid under the tea table, carefully observing through the cracks.

Unexpectedly, the person who came in was not the principal but a hooded man of medium height with his face hidden. Lu Yan recognized him, raising an eyebrow in surprise. Who was he? And why was he here?

When the man entered the office, his sharp eyes roamed the room’s furnishings. He made a beeline for the desk, sifting through the papers on its surface before wrenching open a drawer and delving inside in search of something.

He checked several drawers before advancing onto the safe. After fumbling with the lock, he pried it open and reached in to extract a bundle of documents. Upon scrutinizing them, a grin crept across his face. He was just about to capture a snapshot of them when the door suddenly burst open!

“Who are you?! What are you doing here?” the headmaster bellowed as he stormed in.

Without hesitation, the man bolted out of the room, pelting down the stairs. The headmaster gave chase but could only slam the door shut, leaving the papers scattered on the ground.

Lu Yan and Chu Xiu glanced at each other before wordlessly stepping forward to gather the scattered documents.

“This…” They both felt disoriented as they looked at the words on the pages.

All the characters on the documents were reversed! How were they supposed to read them?

Lu Yan took out a small mirror he carried with him and placed it on the edge of the paper, then began reading each word out loud.

As he spoke, their expressions grew increasingly grave. It turned out to be a stack of liability waivers written by parents. The gist was that even though their children had been in accidents at school, the parents had decided not to hold the school responsible, although they were deeply saddened.

The subsequent waiver was the same as the one after that. They pulled out a thick stack of documents, but the only thing different was the names of the parents and students involved.

“How many incidents have occurred at this school?” they wondered, seeing how many waivers were necessary.

As they continued to flip through the documents, they came across several experiment records. The data on the left makes both of them feel uneasy.

“On X day of X month in X year, two students from Class 2 in Year 1 went to Yin—Yang Road and disappeared without a trace…”

“On the X day of X month in X year, three students from Class 18 in Year 1 went to Yin—Yang Road. Three days later, two students returned, but one remained missing. One of the returnees suffered from mental illness and had to take a leave of absence…”

“On the X day of X month in X year, all the students from Class 2 in Year 3 went on a field trip to Yin—Yang Road. The class teacher disappeared, and one student went missing. The other forty-nine returned after a week. According to follow-up tracking, the forty-nine students’ physical conditions were as follows…”

Chu Xiu shuddered with each report he read. His prolonged exposure to the horrors of his missions and the tragic loss of his sister, Chu Xian, had left him almost desensitized to emotions. Yet, he never thought that the school would conduct such inhumane experiments on its students.

The man who had been present before was likely here to collect the experiment reports. Lu Yan shared Chu Xiu’s disbelief, but for a different reason. He stumbled upon a familiar name and face while perusing through one of the missing reports – An Xing Yu.

The discovery left Lu Yan gasping for air, overwhelmed with shock.

58 ☆ Strange Quilt

‘An Xing Yu…’ Lu Yan’s heart leapt with excitement, his mind going momentarily blank. He forced himself to calm down and took another look at the student file. ‘It’s him, no doubt.’

Lu Yan had always known that people from the other world if they died during their mission, would survive in this world in another strange form. He had also wondered whether people in this world could reach the other world, but unfortunately, he couldn’t verify it himself. Now, he finally had a living example right in front of him.

Could this be real? After searching for so long, had he finally made progress?

Quickly scanning the student file, Lu Yan’s gaze froze as he realized who An Xing Yu’s father was. Under the father’s name column, the font was reversed, but it was clear that the name was An Ru – the previous person in charge whom Zhao, the police officer, had told him about. An Ru had gone to investigate the Yin—Yang Road incident and disappeared, but he turned out to be An Xing Yu’s father.

Lu Yan found him familiar and realized why – he and An Xing Yu looked somewhat alike.

Chu Xiu noticed Lu Yan’s discomfort and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Although Lu Yan was accustomed to disguising his emotions, he quickly regained his composure and changed the subject. “I’m thinking about why the school sent students to Yin—Yang Road? What’s there?”

They had all been to Yin—Yang Road, which was indeed strange to the extreme, but if they were asked to describe what was there, they wouldn’t be able to explain it.

Was it ghosts, or was it “gods”?

Chu Xiu’s expression was equally solemn as he shook his head. “By the way, look at the time on these student files,” he pointed out.

Even the latest document was three years old. Was it possible that the world they were in was actually the past?

Most of their past missions had involved illusions. They couldn’t change the past but could gather information from these illusions. However, their recent experience in a horror game was a different story. 

“We should leave now.” They exchanged glances, and without a second thought, they pulled out their phones to record everything before quickly flipping through the thick stack of files and leaving the scene.

They found an empty classroom and carefully examined each photo, trying to find any clues.

“Although the school history of No.4 Middle School isn’t very long, it’s quite famous in the area. Firstly, it has a high admission rate, and secondly, the tuition fees are cheap, and the rewards are rich. Many students from poor families come here to study. There are also a lot of students who have graduated from orphanages and advanced to this school.”

It didn’t take long for them to realize that incidents involving poor students wouldn’t cause too much concern.

“The current principal has a good reputation because he often waives the tuition fees for students. So, even though students go missing frequently, his support among other students is still very high…”

As Lu Yan browsed through the photos, he thought, ‘The missing students here…An Xing Yu went missing, but An Xing Yu came from another world… The people in that world died but were resurrected in this world…?’

The idea was bizarre, but it was the only explanation that made sense to Lu Yan. Could Chu Xiu be trusted? Should he tell him? No, not yet. He needed to wait a bit longer. According to the pattern, it wouldn’t take more than half a year for An Xing Yu to come back here. Then he could find a way to locate him.

Lu Yan took a deep breath, attempting to steady their thoughts.

“Is it possible that the students were sacrificed to that… entity?” Chu Xiu questioned, avoiding mentioning the name of the deity. From his perspective, the missing students were undoubtedly offerings for the god.

Lu Yan interjected, “But how do you explain the survival of some students?” Even though most of the returned students were mentally unstable, they still managed to return. Was it possible that the god had not desired those particular sacrifices?

Chu Xiu was no longer speculating. Ghosts’ motives were beyond the comprehension of ordinary people, let alone a “god” that operated on a higher plane.

“Incidentally, Zhao, the police officer who dealt with the Yin—Yang Road incident, informed me that her predecessor, An Ru, disappeared while investigating Yin—Yang Road and has yet to be found,” Lu Yan reported, enlarging the photograph and sliding it over to Chu Xiu. “I don’t think this is a coincidence.”

Chu Xiu studied the photograph, his expression turning solemn. “When we meet An Ru, we should inquire if he knows anything.”

“Agreed.”

The class lasted forty-five minutes, leaving them with three minutes remaining. Checking the schedule beforehand, they chose to wait until the next class commenced before departing to avoid being seen. Despite this, the school was so extensive that they were unsure where to begin their search for An Ru. They completed one lap before being caught by a disciplinary teacher.

“Run!” Lu Yan lagged behind intentionally, prompting the disciplinary teacher to chase after him. After Chu Xiu barely managed to flee, Lu Yan vanished.

The school was vast, with a layout that differed somewhat from what he had seen outside. Lu Yan ran two laps before seeking refuge in an empty classroom, intending to depart after school.

Class ended, and it was time to go home. He wished to test whether he could leave the school in the Mirror World.

Chu Xiu received a message from Lu Yan about his plan. Soon after, Chu Xiu arrived, his leg oozing blood, wounded even more severely than before. “After you left, the headmaster came after me,” Chu Xiu waved his hand, recounting his escape. He had knocked the headmaster unconscious, but it was a close call. Upon hearing Lu Yan’s proposal, Chu Xiu hesitated. Lu Yan’s suggestion was tempting, but Chu Xiu had his own plan to complete the game after midnight in the Mirror World so that he could return to the normal world.

“Why do you plan to leave school?” Chu Xiu asked, curious about Lu Yan’s decision.

Tapping his fingertips on the table, Lu Yan replied, “I want to see the Yin—Yang Road.”

Lu Yan wondered what exactly was on the Yin—Yang Road and if he would end up like An Xing Yu, travelling to another world.

Though he also wanted to go, Chu Xiu valued his life. He realized that he had almost exhausted the cost of his wish to the gods, and if he did not cherish it anymore, he might end up like Nie Yun Zhen and the others.

After a long time, he said, “Since that’s the case, we’ll split up.”

Chu Xiu would stay in school and play the game, while Lu Yan would venture to the Yin—Yang Road alone.

As the two agreed, Lu Yan left the school gate immediately after class. Surprisingly, he did not feel hungry, even though he had not eaten for nearly a day.

During dinner time, Chu Xiu wandered around again without his mirror. He randomly took a girl’s mirror from the class, put it in his pocket and left. He thought everything was going smoothly, but what caught him off guard was that the entire school suddenly became tense. The school had brought in a group of security guards from somewhere, searching one building after another.

Chu Xiu had no idea what they were looking for. After narrowly avoiding them, he messaged Lu Yan about the situation.

On the other end, Lu Yan left the school smoothly and got on the bus to Yin—Yang Road. 

Alone in the bus, the darkness crept in with each turn, the surroundings gradually became sparsely populated, and the trees withered into gnarled shadows. As he stepped off the bus, the frigid air stung his face, and he huddled his coat tighter around his frame.

Lu Yan scanned the desolate landscape, ensuring no one lurked in the shadows before taking a deep breath and forging ahead down the bleak road.

The gloom was impenetrable, and the dampness clung to his skin. Although the sun still hung in the sky, the road was enveloped in a deep shade, and the trees appeared as if they had been dead for ages, lined neatly in two rows along the pale pathway. One couldn’t see where it led to as if the road extended to eternity.

Lu Yan did not act on a whim. He suspected the illusion was the work of the insidious deity lurking behind the scenes. He was also taking a gamble, betting on whether An Ru would come to the gloomy road today or not.

He strolled along the path, and in the distance, he spotted an abandoned factory.

Chu Xiu had recounted his experience playing Four Corners at this spot, so Lu Yan’s intuition warned him something was amiss. Would there be other Chu Xius from different dimensions inside?

He halted outside the factory, scrutinizing his surroundings. Abruptly, he heard a car horn blaring in the distance. Lu Yan hastened to open the factory’s first-floor door and peered through the crack.

A fleet of small cars drew to a stop outside the factory. Lu Yan was taken aback and quickly moved, darting up the stairs in the murky gloom to the second floor.

The second floor was filled with debris and dust, identical to the first. Taking a few breaths felt like breathing in asthma-inducing fumes. Lu Yan shielded his mouth and nose, hushed his footsteps, and listened attentively.

The noise of something heavy being dragged on the ground reverberated through the stillness, followed by a thud and a body hitting the floor. It seemed as though the thing that was pulled was a human.

He was a mare human, stumbling over his own words. But his anguished screams were soon drowned out by fists slamming into flesh.

Lu Yan could almost picture the scene below: a group of people catching hold of someone, dragging them into the factory, throwing them to the ground, and then mercilessly kicking and punching them.

“You fucking bastard, I told you to keep away; why didn’t you listen!” spat one of the attackers.

“You think you’re so capable? Then why didn’t you find out when you would die?” growled another.

The man being beaten gasped for breath, coughing violently before managing to make a faint sound.

“You…where did you take…the students?”

The group fell silent. Lu Yan, practically lying on the ground, strained to listen but could only catch fragments of the conversation.

“What’s wrong? Can’t the great police officer An handle it? You can’t find out? Guess then!”

“The students? Aren’t they all doing well?”

They didn’t answer him, only jeering and delivering more blows.

“Alright, enough wasting time.” A middle-aged man’s voice rang out. “Get on with it!”

Lu Yan had made his way to the edge of the wall outside the stairs on the second floor. He peered cautiously around the corner, careful not to be detected in the dark factory. He watched as the group produced a small electric saw and started it up, the saw emitting a small, concentrated roar.

Then, the group burst into laughter and began to sever the man’s head bit by bit.

Lu Yan couldn’t take it anymore. He leaned against the wall on the second floor, slowly making his way towards the window’s edge. He breathed slowly and steadily, trying to calm himself.

Was this An Ru’s past?

From below came a chorus of unintelligible murmurs and jeers. Then, the headlamps of several vehicles outside the factory illuminated the night. The mob gathered their gear, loaded it into their cars, and departed. 

In other words, that person’s body should still be on the first floor.

Lu Yan observed the procession of vehicles vanish into the darkness before descending the stairs to the heart of the lobby.

He surveyed the blood-soaked corpse on the ground using his phone’s light. The crimson stains saturated his clothes, the colour so vivid that it verged on black. The body was lacerated from head to toe.

Yet, one crucial thing was missing – the head. The headless cadaver, drenched in blood, lay on the ground!

Recalling the departing group of thugs, Lu Yan realized they carried tool bags. One person had a plastic bag, presumably containing An Ru’s head.

They took An Ru’s head with them, so he had to return to the school – to recover his head. And that’s why those teachers met their tragic fate.

Lu Yan took one last glance at the headless body before turning and making his exit. The cause of An Ru’s death was now apparent, but he needed to solve another puzzle urgently.

He messaged Chu Xiu, inquiring about his progress, and while waiting for a response, he continued on his way. It wasn’t until much later that Chu Xiu answered his message.

[Come back soon,] the reply read. [The teachers are conducting room checks tonight, and it’ll be bad if you’re absent.]

In the office, a group of people were lecturing Chu Xiu on the subject of love.

Chu Xiu gazed hopelessly at the table where his phone and gun lay. The teacher had fallen for his lie about the toy gun, but the teachers didn’t pay much attention to it, too preoccupied with his lecture on the perils of truancy and mobile phone addiction. His phone beeped with a new message from Lu Yan. He longed to seize it, but his body was bound to the chair, leaving him helpless as he watched the other person respond to the text.

Would he realize something was amiss?  

The head teacher’s stern voice interrupted his thoughts, “I just messaged your accomplice. He’ll be here shortly. You two delinquents skipped class and ignored your teachers’ instructions. You’ll stand for an hour now. Tomorrow morning, you’ll scrub the playground for me.”

On the other end of the line, Lu Yan received the message and sensed something amiss. He mulled over it momentarily before sending a reply, feigning no knowledge of the unfolding events.

The taxi’s tires screeched as it hurtled towards the school. Lu Yan knew better than to break any ghosts’ rules, especially in this otherworldly place. He urged the driver, desperate to arrive at the school on time.

When Lu Yan arrived, he discovered he was also to be punished with Chu Xiu, standing side by side. The two boys exchanged information, whispering together in hushed tones.

Chu Xiu murmured, “I’ll try again tonight. I don’t know if I can return to the mirror world.”

Lu Yan nodded, equally determined. They stood there for an hour before the head teacher dismissed them to the dormitory.

The six-person dormitory was cramped, but Chu Xiu and Lu Yan had to accept the arrangement. They shrugged off their jackets and laid down on their respective beds. As they drifted off to sleep, they chatted a little longer, discussing their plans for the next day.

One of the lads could barely bear the biting cold. He caught sight of Lu Yan’s quilt, which seemed thick enough to smother a small fire. With a hesitant tone, he asked if he could swap. Lu Yan, unperturbed, lifted the earthy yellow quilt from his bed and carried it over to the boy’s bed.

Having no intention of dozing off, Lu Yan leaned against the bedpost and shut his eyes to rest. Time crawled along, and the clock crept closer to midnight.

Eerie sounds, almost whispers, drifted through the dorm. The boy who’d borrowed the quilt still shuddered, cold as the Arctic, chattering his teeth so hard the entire room could hear.

“What’s the matter? Are you taken ill?” asked the others.

“I don’t know…I’m just bloody cold…” The boy shook violently.

“Ever since your trek to the Yin—Yang Road, you’ve felt this chill. Want to take a leave and see a doc at home?” suggested one of the roommates.

“Nah…not necessary…I’ll just catch a wink… Lu Yan lent me his…his quilt…” The boy continued to shake as he spoke.

“Alright, then.” The other roommates eventually stopped talking, allowing the whispers to fill the silence once again.

“So cold…” The boy wrapped the quilt around himself tighter and tighter.

Drenched in sweat, he still felt the chill seeping through his skin, despite the suffocating heat. The tighter he wrapped himself, the more sweat he produced, and the more sweat he produced, the more the cold consumed him.

He was drenched as if the bed sheets had been dragged through a river. The only action was to curl up his body until he finally surrendered and buried his head under the covers.

“What in God’s name…” He tried to move, but he felt stuck, paralyzed. Was it the cold that numbed him to the core? No, it couldn’t be that.

The boy tried to lift the covers, but his hands were glued to the cotton sheets! Slowly melting into them! He couldn’t move his legs either! His entire being was merging with the covers!

This revelation was enough to drive him insane. He tried to scream, but no sound came out. Gazing downwards, he realised half of his neck was already assimilated with the quilt, melding like a wax effigy.

The dormitory was filled with obliviousness as nobody noticed his anomaly. Everyone was just relieved that he had stopped trembling. He opened his eyes and slowly fused with the covers.

The earthy yellow quilt thickened and emanated warmth, like an embrace from a lover.

59 ☆ I know you’re awake

The incident with the blanket went undetected by Lu Yan. He leaned against the wall while lying in bed, eyes closed, anticipating the arrival of midnight. Each passing moment was an eternity until, at last, he pried his eyes open.

Chu Xiu followed suit, and in the shadows, they locked gazes before rising to their feet. Suddenly, a thin beam of light penetrated the window atop the steel door, illuminating the room.

“Get back to sleep. The room check is imminent, and any points deducted will result in disciplinary action,” the dorm leader cautioned them.

The sound of steps drew near, accompanied by the clattering of other dorm doors thrown wide open. Was this a mere inspection? Lu Yan scrambled to cover his head with a blanket, feigning slumber while remaining silent.

The footsteps grew louder, their clamour intensified by the curses and cries of male students. It was unclear where they were being dragged. The “disciplinary action” mentioned by the dorm leader was anything but trivial.

With a deafening crash, the door burst open, yet the dorm’s inhabitants remained still as statues. Lu Yan lay there, still as the night, as if sound asleep. But he could sense a presence scrutinizing the tiny chamber, chilling and malevolent as if scouring for prey.

The footsteps crept closer to his bed, each a deliberate beat in a macabre march. Lu Yan slowed his breathing and muted his heartbeat, becoming as still as a statue. Any observer would be convinced that he was deep in slumber.

The dormitory was quiet as the grave, the only sound the mournful howling of the wind blowing through the open door. The male voice that had been pleading only moments before had been silenced, along with the footsteps that had accompanied it.

Lu Yan lay supine, lost in a peaceful sleep. Yet, he could sense that the entity had not abandoned him. It hung suspended above him, reeking of decay and death, a ghostly presence with an unshakeable grip.

What manner of being was this?

At first, he thought this was just another hallucination, an echo of the past relived through the prism of his mind. But the events of the night had him doubting his judgment. 

Was this an apparition of days gone by at Fourth High School, or was it a manifestation of the student’s own nightmarish experiences? Perhaps their terror had conjured up ghastly images of the principal, vice principal, and other school leaders.

He waited patiently, his senses attuned to the shifting shadows around him. After an interminable wait, the frosty breath suffocating him began to dissipate. The entity had changed its target and now hovered menacingly above the student on the top bunk.

The student who had borrowed his blanket earlier now lay silent, lost in silence. 

However, the sound of the blanket being yanked off the bed echoed through the stillness, a sudden intrusion of violence in an otherwise peaceful night.

‘Why?’ Lu Yan wondered, perplexed. What rule did he break?

Unable to pry his eyes open, Lu Yan was forced to rely on his other senses. The rustling noise from the top bunk continued, even as the blanket vanished from sight.

Time passed like a river, ebbing and flowing, until a chilling voice pierced the silence. ‘I know you’re not sleeping.’

Though spoken in a soft tone, the words reverberated through the dormitory, quickening the breath of a fellow student on the opposite bunk.

The entity revelled in its newfound target, and with glee, it yanked the male student from his resting place. The hapless victim crashed to the floor with a sickening thud, his skull cracking against the ground. He pleaded, begged, and wept for mercy.

Then, the voice changed as if he had seen the most horrifying thing in the world, something so petrifying it robbed the teen of speech. All that remained was a choking gasp, a ‘heh heh’ sound that emanated from the boy’s throat.

Heavy objects were dragged away, followed by the dormitory door slam.

All returned to calm.

Lu Yan’s eyes remained shut as he calculated the time, realizing that midnight had passed and it was now about one o’clock. The question lingered in his mind, How many more bed checks would there be tonight? Was this hallucination of past events a manifestation of a student’s nightmares? Nevertheless, the school was anything but ordinary.

Determined to get to the bottom of things, Lu Yan had no intention of rising from his slumber this night. He would wait until the morning to inquire at the school. He was certain Chu Xiu felt the same way. The two slept until dawn and were up before anyone could call them.

Lu Yan opened his eyes, and immediately, his gaze narrowed slightly. On the wooden board of the upper bunk, he saw a humanoid water stain. He got up and surveyed the room, noticing drag marks on both beds. Strangely enough, both students were gone.

Did the student who complained of cold just disappear quietly like that? Stepping on the ladder, he looked up at his own upper bunk. The same student who borrowed his blanket last night had disappeared, along with the blanket. The bed was damp with a humanoid water stain.

Lu Yan had a faint inkling of what was happening, so he leapt down and ceased his investigation.

This school…this school is haunted!

Maybe the students demonized the image of the discipline office and others, but that alone couldn’t clarify the eerie events that took place in the dormitory. Were these events merely a figment of their imagination?

The other students in the dormitory had awakened and were washing up. The dormitory leader washed his face with a water basin in the bathroom. Lu Yan stood by his side, reaching out to accept the water.

Abruptly, he asked, “Does this school have ghosts?”

The dormitory leader was taken aback and bellowed, “What balderdash are you spouting? Do you wish to die?”

Realizing his error, Lu Yan shook his head and solemnly responded, “I don’t wish to die.”

His demeanour pacified the jittery dormitory leader, who scrutinized him sceptically a few times before concealing his face in the damp towel and muttering indecisively, “If you truly don’t want to, then…then join us in worshipping God.”

“God?” Lu Yan undid his collar, exposing a mark beneath his clavicle. “Is this the deity you’re referring to?”

The dormitory leader gazed at the mark in awe for a moment before slowly nodding, his throat parched.

Lu Yan secured his collar, fixating his gaze on the dormitory leader, his words carrying an enigmatic undertone, “So, as long as you become a follower, you won’t die?”

The dormitory leader nodded, his blank expression meeting Lu Yan’s profound gaze. The deity seemed deeply intertwined with everyone at the school, both students and teachers alike.

Lu Yan probed further, but when he inquired about the nature of the school’s experiments, the dormitory leader convulsed in agony, his eyes glazing over. Lu Yan was immediately on high alert. The answer to this question was crucial.

“The school… is sacrificing. They seek to summon… something.”

His voice was so low that he might not have heard of Lu Yan had not been intently listening. The dormitory leader immediately collapsed, his limbs spasming uncontrollably, his face twisted in excruciating pain.

This statement appeared to trigger something, and as he passed out, the temperature in the dormitory plummeted. Lu Yan supported the dormitory leader and watched the view outside the window transform.

The walls, doors, windows, and trees… all cracked like a mirror had shattered. Lu Yan stuck his head out the window and observed that even the sky had faint cracks.

Chu Xiu burst through the door, demanding, “What have you done?”

The moment he entered, his eyes bugged out of his skull. He saw a poor sod sprawled on the floor, facial cracks mapped over their skin like a broken plaster cast, no blood seeping from the crevices. Lu Yan laid the person flat without a word, then snagged Chu Xiu and bolted for the door.

This place had become a death trap.

Chu Xiu didn’t grasp the gravity of the situation, but he followed obediently. He would soon learn the reason behind the fear gripping Lu Yan.

One by one, pupils filtered out of the dormitory, taking up positions in the hall, eyes locked onto them. Their faces crumbled like the surrounding walls, cracks spidering over their skin.

“What in the hell do we do? The whole bloody world is about to rupture. How do we get out of here?” Chu Xiu, his eyes peeled on Lu Yan, witnessed the cracks fissuring through his clothes, his panic pitching a fever. “You’re splitting apart too!”

Lu Yan shrugged off his coat, flinging it to the ground. “Forget it. We need to find a mirror now. Finish the damn game!”

“But we must wait until midnight on the seventh day,” Chu Xiu protested.

“After midnight on the seventh day, isn’t it now?” Lu Yan spat back.

Chu Xiu’s mind was jolted by his response. “Of course!” he thought. It was well past midnight now. The recent game had deceived him into thinking that it was another day.

As soon as he realized this, they dashed into other dormitories to scavenge for mirrors. The boys’ dormitory had scarce mirrors, but they eventually found a suitable one. Without hesitation, they bolted to the first floor. Chu Xiu ascended the stairs while gazing at his reflection.

In that instant, not only did Lu Yan’s face start to crack, but Chu Xiu’s visage was also splitting apart. The mirror reflected his appearance in all its terrifying glory, even more, ghastly than any time he had seen his reflection in the outside world. His face was covered in fissures, and from within, soft red appendages reached out, wriggling in the breeze.

Chu Xiu wished to avert his eyes, but he couldn’t. He whispered his name repeatedly. By the time he arrived at the second floor, his reflection in the mirror had already been dismembered.

With unwavering focus, he ascended the second level at a breakneck pace. Lu Yan marched ahead of him, alert to any sudden developments.

“Chu Xiu.”

“Chu Xiu.”

…

In the mirror, the ghost of Chu Xiu’s sister appeared once again – replaying the task they had undertaken before. Chu Xiu stoically pressed forward despite his heartbreak without uttering a single sound.

“Sleeve, the pain is unbearable…it’s killing me…” Chu Xian whimpered as she wept and clutched her wounds, her image reflected in the mirror. “You goddamn bastard, where did you go? Won’t you help me?”

Chu Xiu made a heartless decision, ignoring her cries and continuing his ascent. With each step he took, another bloody wound appeared on Chu Xian’s body. When he reached the top of the second floor and arrived at the entrance of the stairs leading to the third, Chu Xiu was unaware that his face was awash with tears.

The stairs leading down began to crumble, and the building started to collapse. Debris rained down from the top of the structure with a cacophonous clamour.

The mirror world wanted to ensnare them!

Chu Xiu deftly sidestepped all the rocks hurtling towards the mirror surface. He barely flinched, resolutely marching towards the mirror even when inadvertently struck a few times. Lu Yan worked diligently to clear the rocks that had tumbled down, obstructing their path on the stairs and allowing Chu Xiu to keep climbing.

“You two come down! How dare you masquerade as students!” bellowed a voice from below.

The outerwall had long since crumbled, leaving the situation on the stairs exposed to the outside world. Lu Yan peered outside and saw that all the teachers and leaders of the school had congregated below, attempting to ascend.

Emphasis on attempted, as a throng of students barred their path. One after another, they tried to push the teachers away, but the teachers made quick work of them. They had only failed to succeed because of their sheer numbers.

“Ignore them; move quickly!” Lu Yan barked, eyes scanning the scene, knowing the students wouldn’t hold up for much longer.

Suspicion had been gnawing at him for some time now. The illusion was a manifestation of the students’ memories. It seemed likely that they were pulled into the mirror world because that was the only place where they could glean the information they needed.

Chu Xiu finally made it to the fourth floor, but his arrival was met with a group of leaders surging up towards him. These were no longer human forms – their skin cracked and mottled, their pallor resembling sun-dried paper figures.

Paper figures? Lu Yan wondered; why did that idea pop up?

Lu Yan hurried to Chu Xiu’s side, who deftly moved the mirror away from the advancing group and continued their ascent. Lu Yan pushed down falling rocks and used them to barricade the path, but the strain was taking its toll. His hands were splitting open, flakes of flesh flaking off, but he didn’t falter. 

Those climbing up after them were not fairing much better, with some barely clinging on with half their body as they tried to stop the two from proceeding.

Lu Yan was alone and overwhelmed, unable to stop dozens of people from attacking. He was quickly forced to approach them.

Heaving with exertion, Chu Xiu continued his climb. Just now, he was hit by a rock, and although he had managed to avoid any vital areas, his injured leg was hit. He had nearly lost his grip on the mirror for a split second.

But escape was still some time away.

Lu Yan stood before the shattered balcony, confronting a horde of encroaching figures. Without hesitation, he raised his firearm and fired at a recognizable shadow. The target’s head erupted into a burst of gore, wobbled precariously, and then tumbled over the balcony’s edge.

“Director!!”

As his quarry plummeted to their doom, Lu Yan bolted forward and leapt off the edge after them. Chu Xiu, who had just reached the last bend of his climb, bore witness to the entire calamity. His heart seized up, but he knew there was no chance to intervene. The only path was upwards.

His left hand had been reduced to rubble, and his right held only three digits. Struggling to grip the mirror, Chu Xiu pressed onward, despite his leg being shattered beyond repair. Remarkably, he felt no pain. At this moment, he was grateful that he could still speak and that the game might still be won.

He could only hope that Lu Yan held fast and avoided the fate waiting in the abyss.

On the other side, Lu Yan’s body contorted and crumpled, hitting the ground with a sickening thud. His fragmented form splintered even further. Attempting to rise to his feet, he discovered that his legs had been pulverized into fragments, and his shoulder had also shattered. By a stroke of luck, he had leapt in the right direction. The principal he had previously knocked down was positioned directly before him.

He used his relatively intact hand to prop himself up and dragged himself to the principal’s side, delving inside his body to retrieve something.

Gazing upon the crowd, he bellowed, “I’m here, and your principal is too!”

The crowd, unsure of how to react, flailed around like headless flies briefly before another gunshot rang out, striking one of their own in the head.

Lu Yan lowered his weapon and cast a cold, unflinching glare at them with his remaining eye. Although he had deceived Chu Xiu earlier, he had now truly exhausted his ammunition.

The mob quickly came to a decision after a moment of chaos. Most of them thundered downstairs in hot pursuit while a small faction stayed behind to clear a path and apprehend Chu Xiu.

Chu Xiu had already ascended to the top floor, sinking his teeth into his remaining fingers to scrawl his name on the mirror. He needed to flee immediately, descending the staircase without looking back, no matter what he heard or saw.

He dropped the mirror and hobbled down the stairs, only to find seven or eight people obstructing his path. His teeth clenched in determination as he darted past them, running for his life.

He couldn’t stay. He couldn’t look back.

The mangled remains of several bodies lay twisted together. Chu Xiu muttered the rules of the game under his breath, but then a phrase from the instructions suddenly sprang to mind. His eyes widened with inspiration as he spied an opening. He darted out onto the balcony just as Lu Yan had before.

He hit the ground with a resounding thud, and the world went dark.

Two pairs of eyes simultaneously snapped open, and they found themselves right back where they started on the night of the game before they were dragged into the mirror world. But all the students had vanished, leaving only an eerie quiet within the teaching building and a hazy shadow lurking below.

“Come on, keep playing,” Lu Yan shoved Chu Xiu, who clutched the mirror tightly and quickly regained his bearings, reciting his name as he ascended the stairs.

Lu Yan’s heart raced, pounding hard in his chest.

He extracted his phone from his pocket and opened the gallery, tilting his head down to keep his line of sight within a visible range of about ten meters.

He watched as the shadow crept up, level by level. Those feet eventually came to a halt directly in front of him.

An Run had relentlessly pursued leads on the Yin—Yang Road road, continuing even after his death, driven not only by his profession but also by his love for his son.

Lu Yan hoisted his phone aloft, the screen illuminated by the stark image of An Xing Yu’s missing person report. He deftly flipped the text horizontally, creating a mirror image of the report.

Lu Yan had a peculiar habit: he was always prepared with multiple backups for everything. Even in this instance, he had foreseen that the group of students wouldn’t pose a threat, but the shadow – An Run – would still pursue him, having caught a glimpse of himself.

The shadow wouldn’t cease chasing him unless it had something to do with his investigation results or his son. He required An Xing Yu’s missing person report for this purpose. Unfortunately, the paper version remained in the principal’s office in the mirror world, and his phone was confiscated by the head teacher. Therefore, he had no other option but to take a chance and see if the head teacher carried a copy with him.

As Lu Yan stood there, the shadow appeared before him, sporting a noticeable red mark on his neck that seemed rugged in some areas due to a chainsaw cut. The shadow lingered for an extended time and then snatched the phone from his hand.

In the meanwhile, Chu Xiu had made it to the final level, pricked his finger, and let the blood flow to write his name on the mirror.

The game had concluded.

Both the shadow and Chu Xiu vanished, and the mirror crashed onto the ground, shattering into pieces. Lu Yan stood still, taking several deep breaths before eventually descending the stairs.

A chilly aura emanated from a mark below his collarbone.

As he descended, the school atmosphere became increasingly eerie. Then, the hallway lights abruptly flickered on, revealing a student dressed in a school uniform standing quivering in the corner, his back facing him.

Suddenly, a girl in a school uniform skirt rushed by, laughing, yet where her mouth should have been was so smooth that it was difficult to imagine where the laughter came from.

Lu Yan left the building with a dismissive air and exited the school hastily. Yet his mind remained preoccupied with the mission, his thoughts churning like a turbulent sea. From the situation of Chu Xiu’s departure, there shouldn’t have been so many strange phenomena.

But what had caused them? Was it the “god”? The same god that had now become a haunting, spectral presence that defied explanation? Lu Yan wondered what role it had played in the mission and how it had managed to “resurrect” them. Could it truly be possible for parallel time and space to exist or even time to flow backwards?

Lost in thought, Lu Yan found himself at the street corner. The flickering neon lights in the distance coalesced into a vague human form. Lu Yan immediately averted his gaze and stopped staring.

His phone had been taken away, but fortunately, he had a backup at home. As he rode the bus back, Lu Yan’s mind wandered back to his earlier musings. Why was the world so bizarre, yet the development of technology similar to another world? What unseen force was maintaining everything in place, and why did he feel that An Xing Yu and An Ru held the answers to these questions?

Lu Yan felt that there was much to be gleaned from them that could shed light on the mysteries of the world around him.

The calendar image materialized in his mind, and he compared and recalled the frequency of his “acquaintances”. Lu Yan flipped through the calendar, his fingers tracing the inked markings on several dates.

Anticipation coursed through his veins as he imagined the next meeting with An Xing Yu and Chu Xiu.

Chu Xiu’s eyes snapped open, and he bolted upright. The four of them were huddled in an abandoned factory, groggy and disoriented. One by one, the others stirred awake, only to meet their demise in the next moment.

A twinge of sorrow flickered in Chu Xiu’s eyes, but he knew it was not the time to grieve. He uttered his goodbyes and hastened away from the grisly scene.

Three lifeless bodies, their eyes fixedly staring, bore witness to his exit.

“Someone died again recently, Little Yu. Be cautious, and avoid venturing out.” An Ru was rare at the dinner table, but he looked concerned at his thin son. “It’s not safe lately, try not to provoke anyone, and stay inside if possible.”

An Xing Yu nodded in agreement, finished his meal, and dutifully washed the dishes before retreating to his room to tackle his homework.

As he wrote, his pen slipped, leaving an unsightly scar on his notebook. The task had reared its head once more. An Xing Yu promptly switched to a fresh sheet of paper and jotted down the assignment details with meticulous care.

“Curious, another bloody village,” he muttered to himself.

An Xing Yu scribbled down the task with urgency, booted up his computer, and logged into a unique website where he posted a vague request for companionship, shrouding the critical details in ambiguity.

In no time, several unfamiliar accounts contacted him. Once they verified the secret code, they scheduled a rendezvous at a dingy cafe in the city where An Xing Yu resided.

Meanwhile, Chu Xiu also scoured the same website, methodically jotting down the task’s particulars as he meticulously analysed and planned his approach.

What was this “All-Knowing God”?

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