TWBS c89~100

表里世界 ☆ 

The World Below Surface

ARC 6 (c89- 113) Word count: 37k

☆ 89

Translator: InkyDragon

Unaware of the sinister plot that awaited him, Lu Yan felt a surge of dread as he sensed the impending malice directed towards him. He was already vexed by the thought of being targeted.

He found himself in a desolate station, with no signs of life to be seen or heard. The moist, biting cold of the night greeted him, seeping into his bones. The winter wind howled mercilessly, shaking the station’s windows and doors with a metallic clang.

Once again, he felt that oppressive stare, like a dark figure trailing him.

Who could it be?

Who was keeping their eyes on him?

A shiver ran through his body, freezing his blood, as he felt a cloak of ice enveloping him.

The stare didn’t waver, but instead intensified, akin to a malignant wound festering and oozing.

What did it want?

What was its purpose?

He didn’t dare to turn his head, but instead quickened his steps, desperate to escape the station. However, the station seemed to taunt him, stretching its corridors and platforms beyond his reach.

His eyes darted to the door.

Out of nowhere a red figure appeared. Its face was decayed beyond recognition, but Lu Yan felt its piercing gaze, fixed on him with malicious intent.

No, it was not alone. Another grotesque and menacing figure stood behind him.

What could he do?

Ever since the world went mad, ever since he witnessed his loved ones mysteriously die and came back to life, he had not known fear. He had faced the horrors with a cool head, devising strategies to survive.

He did not halt his steps, advancing towards the door.

In the past, he could easily evade the ghosts by ignoring them. But now…

Was everything going to work out?

As soon as the blood-red spectre emerged, Lu Yan regained his mobility. He made his way to the door, but this time, he slowed down his pace on purpose.

The blood-red body still glared at him, putrid liquid dripping from its rotten, empty eye sockets, resembling a corpse freshly dug up.

Lu Yan approached it slowly, cautiously.

He was assaulted by the damp earthy smell that mingled with the foul odour of rotting flesh that wafted from its body.

He came face to face with the corpse.

It kept staring at him, motionless.

He took a step.

Another.

And another.

Lu Yan reached its side, but it made no move.

What was it doing there, if not to attack him? He wondered, his mind racing, but he could not shake off the feeling of familiarity.

Had he met the person who once inhabited this body?

But its face was beyond recognition, marred by dark veins that bulged and twisted, obscuring any features, its shape decayed and swollen. He dared not look at it for too long, lest he drew its attention, so he could not tell what it was.

As they brushed past each other, that corpse suddenly veered towards him.

It pounced on him in a flash, its arms reaching out, grabbing Lu Yan’s shoulder with a firm grip.

He felt the icy coldness of its flesh against his back, and the foul odour of its decay invaded his nostrils.

Lu Yan struggled to free himself, but its hands held on, refusing to let go. Strangely, it did not try to harm him, but let Lu Yan drag it along for a few steps, leaving a thin trail of blood on the floor.

Who was this thing? What did it want from him?

The station plunged into darkness, one light after another flickering out, as something unseen drew nearer to him. The thing on his back seemed unaware of the impending doom, but Lu Yan’s instincts warned him that he would not survive if that thing caught up with him!

He wasted no time, and ran as fast as he could with the rotting corpse clinging to his back.

As he sprinted down the stairs, the last light in the station hall went out. Darkness swallowed the whole place.

Lu Yan raced for his life with the corpse on his back, the streetlights behind him going out one by one.

That thing… that thing was gaining on him!

The wind whipped up with even more force, and the deserted road showed no signs of life, with all the shops on either side firmly closed. He had arrived in a bustling city; there should have been people everywhere, especially near the train station.

But now, he was alone, except for Lu Yan sprinting desperately.

The corpse, lying still on his back, did not move, but… the foul odour from behind intensified, and the arms of the body wrapped around his chest stiffened, making it harder to shake off.

What was this thing?

The corpse on his back weighed him down, its limbs not rigid but slowly becoming soft, as if swelling. Determined, Lu Yan reached another crossroad and seized the hand of the corpse on his back, hurling it away, then flinging it roughly to the side…

It all happened in a matter of seconds, and finally, the corpse was violently cast off, tumbling on the ground.

Lu Yan exhaled in relief, realising he had finally freed himself from that thing.

But… nothing else happened?

As he thought that, he caught a glimpse of the back and quickened his pace. It turned out that the corpse he had discarded was slowly raising its head from the ground, its limbs twitching involuntarily, a sight that suggested an impending transformation into something else…

It raised its head, and Lu Yan caught a glimpse of a mark on the rotten corpse. He did not stop to think, but turned and ran wildly towards the dimming street light that loomed ahead.

The corpse had the same mark on its chest as Lu Yan. Could it be that the corpse was him?

**

Lin Chu mingled among the crowd, eavesdropping on their conversations without contributing much, pretending to be a clueless newcomer.

She still had a chance to back out, but…

Why had the task suddenly changed to hunting someone down? The previous tasks were strange but understandable. This chase task seemed out of place. What had Lu Yan done?

What had he done to provoke the entity behind the task so much that it sent a horde after him? What if they failed this time? What would happen then?

Lin Chu mulled over these questions for a long time.

She spotted many familiar taskers in the crowd, some of them veterans who had completed more than ten tasks, while novices were few and far between. This made her more uneasy.

Some of them, after exchanging messages, sensed that something was off, but… they had a task to do, and if they failed to complete it, they were screwed.

They did not care if Lu Yan held the key to solving the mystery in the future, they would not risk their lives for a vague possibility.

How could Lu Yan survive with so many hunters on his trail?

He was not known to everyone; some of them had met him during missions but had their memories erased by hypnosis, only recognising his name. Others had never seen his face. They were thirty-five in total, and they spent almost four hours debating how to kill an NPC before they finally parted ways.

The mission was still half a month away.

What they did not realise was that Lu Yan had received the flyer, telling him to return to the small town a month later.

The extra half month was meant to give the taskers time to adjust and get ready.

Otherwise, they might not stand a chance, even with their numbers.

The meeting dispersed, and Lin Chu sought out Chu Xiu again, her face grave.

“We need to talk. Seriously. Maybe we can work together,” she said.

Chu Xiu exhaled in relief, hearing what he had hoped for, almost eager to reply, “Sure, I’m in.”

Lin Chu then outlined the tasks and issues they had discussed, while watching Chu Xiu’s reactions.

How would he feel, knowing Lu Yan?

“Two tasks? Searching for someone and killing Lu Yan,” Chu Xiu scowled.

“That’s right, I’m just joining their meetings for now, not committed. That’s their plan,” Lin Chu asked, “Has anything like this happened before? Do we have to do both tasks, or is one enough to get out?”

Chu Xiu shook his head, “Not that I know of. And…”

And it was such a bloody task.

“What are your thoughts? Should we kill him?” Lin Chu looked him in the eye.

Chu Xiu’s eyes darted nervously before he shook his head again, “No, he can’t die yet…”

“I doubt he will die anyway,” he added.

“Perhaps not. They might be willing to do the dirty work themselves, but the tasks are so obviously targeting him, who knows, they might have some help from the task this time.”

She did not name anyone, but Chu Xiu understood.

They all suspected that there was a hidden force or entity behind these tasks.

“Lu Yan must not die,” Lin Chu stated.

**

Night fell.

Yu Huai Yao rubbed his sore neck, ready to resume his work at his desk, when his heart missed a beat. A dreadful sensation swept over him, and at the same time, an image flashed in his mind.

A voice commanded him to complete a task. If he succeeded, he could carry on living; if he failed, he would die. Rejecting the task would also mean death!

The agony overwhelmed him, making him collapse on the desk. As he reached for his phone to call for help, the spasms disappeared without a trace.

A bloody hallucination. That’s what it felt like.

But he knew it wasn’t. It was something else. Something worse.

Yu Huai Yao glanced at his watch. The time was irrelevant. He had lost track of the days, the nights, the hours. 

“Brother, do you believe in ghosts?”

The voice of Yu Huan, his dead cousin, echoed in his mind. 

Bloody hell. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw him. Yu Huan, peeling off his bloody skin, layer by layer, revealing the rotting flesh and bones underneath. He screamed, he begged, he pleaded. But Yu Huai Yao could only watch, helpless and horrified. He had no choice but to believe.

Meanwhile, in another city…

Yi Zhen Zhen, who had lost her mother, sat in the living room, doing her homework. A framed photo of her mother’s smiling face was on the table, next to her books.

As she wrote, she suddenly felt a sharp pain in her head, like a bloody needle piercing her brain. A wave of nausea washed over her, making her gag.

“…Task? Wha-what task?”

She gasped, clutching her head. The voice was unfamiliar, cold and menacing. It sounded like it came from inside her head, but also from everywhere.

She looked around, panicked, but everything at home was as normal as ever. No sign of anything bloody wrong.

Nightmares plagued her that night.

She was not the only one. Many relatives of the dead taskers had suffered the same fate, tormented by visions of horror and death. And the number of taskers had grown, spreading like a bloody infection.

Half a month later, the veterans of the meetings gathered at the assigned task location – an amusement park that had been abandoned for years. To their astonishment, they were shocked to see that the crowd had swelled again.

Fifty-three souls. That’s how many they counted.

Lin Chu felt a surge of anxiety. She scanned the faces, looking for familiar ones. Then she saw him. Yu Huai Yao. What the hell was he doing here?

He saw her too. He made his way towards her, hoping to get some answers from her.

Soon enough, midnight arrived.

☆ 90

The amusement park should have been dark and silent, but instead, it was illuminated by twinkling lights. They had brought them along for their own illumination.

The world tilted and twisted, and their consciousness shifted.

“Next stop, our destination – Spirit Vale Town. Once we get off, everyone remembers to stick close to me. The entrance to this town is hard to find, no driving allowed, only walking.”

The voice of the tour guide snapped them back to reality. They looked around and realised they were on a bus. The tour guide stood near the door, holding a small megaphone. She smiled widely, showing her teeth.

Through the window, they could see the forest speeding past. It was thick and dark, too uncomfortable. It made them shiver.

They tried to make small talk to distract themselves from the impending dread. But then the driver slammed on the brakes, and the bus came to a halt. They had reached the mouth of a long tunnel.

The entrance to Spirit Vale Town.

“Everyone pay attention to the order, follow me off the bus!” The woman, who worked as the tour guide, exclaimed. She waved a little flag at them, beckoning them.

However, her smile was clearly forced. If you looked closely, you could see that her eyes were empty. There was no happiness in them. Her mouth was stretched so wide, it almost touched her ears. It was an uncomfortable sight.

Everyone on the bus had a mission, a bloody mission. They knew they had to follow the woman, no matter what. They got off the bus one by one, squeezing through the narrow door.

Yu Huai Yao stuck close to Lin Chu. He had many questions, but he also had some answers. He now saw this strange scene with his own eyes and understood. Yu Huan, his dead cousin, had gone through something similar, hadn’t he?

So, that’s how he ended up dying in such a bizarre manner.

He reconsidered his suspicion of Lin Chu, now that he knew the truth. But it didn’t matter.

No one else cared. There were too many, too scared, too desperate. They clung to whoever seemed willing to cooperate, seeking some warmth in the cold.

Lin Chu and Yu Huai Yao were among the “newbies”. The experienced ones avoided them, knowing they were doomed. There were several pairs like them.

Lin Chu resented Yu Huai Yao, especially when he approached and a few other nervous-looking newbies noticed and joined them. One of them was a girl in a school uniform, barely out of her teens.

Yu Huai Yao muttered an apology to Lin Chu. He couldn’t say much, hindered by the crowd.

They disembarked from the bus onto a small road, where a damp, cold wind blew from the forest, carrying a chill that pierced their bones, a chill that only winter could bring.

The driver didn’t utter a word. As the last person got off, he turned the car around and drove away.

“Follow me,” the tour guide said. She didn’t mind that no one spoke to her. She waved her flag and marched forward.

The path ended at a tunnel, black as night, devoid of light. The tour guide waved her flag and entered without hesitation. “It’s quite dark inside. Everyone be careful and remain silent.”

One of the individuals, Xi Men Yuan (西门远), had found his teammate. He slowed down upon hearing the tour guide’s warning. He walked alongside them and said, “Looks like we can’t talk inside the tunnel.”

(西门 (Xīmén) is a common surname that means “west gate”. 远 (Yuǎn) is a unisex given name that means “far” or “distant”. 西门远 could be interpreted as “a distant west gate” or “a faraway boundary”.)

His teammate, Tan Xu (谭旭), nodded and kept an eye on his back.

(谭 (Tán) is a surname that means “talk” or “discuss”. 旭 (Xù) is a unisex given name that means “sunrise” or “dawn”. 谭旭 could be interpreted as “a talkative sunrise” or “a dawn of discussion”.)

They had planned to discuss matters quietly, but now they had to wait.

However, not everyone understood this. Some experienced participants slowed down, pretending to allow the newbies to catch up. They didn’t prevent them from talking.

Driven by curiosity, they had decided to test their theories. One of them had to be the sacrificial lamb.

The tunnel swallowed them whole, offering no sound or movement in return. It was a void of endless blackness.

Lin Chu followed suit, plunging into the abyss.

A wave of dread washed over her. As soon as she crossed the threshold, she felt a stark contrast between the inside and the outside, and a nagging sensation that something was lurking in the shadows, eyeing her with malice.

What was it?

The tunnel stretched on and on, seemingly without an end, and they trudged along for what felt like an eternity.

They became so immersed in their own thoughts that they almost forgot the purpose of their mission, almost lost their sense of direction. Then, the cheerful voice of the guide pierced the silence: “Everyone, we’ve reached the Spirit Vale. Hope you all have a good time in the town.”

The mission participants shuddered in unison.

They knew they were not here for leisure, but for a dangerous task. Moreover, the guide’s tone was so incongruous with the situation. Her words sounded more like a curse than a blessing, making them even more anxious.

But there was a faint glimmer of light ahead of them. The participant at the front muttered something under his breath and stepped out of the tunnel, only to be greeted by a sight that took his breath away.

Too… beautiful.

The houses, the roads, everything was neat and clean. It looked like a picture-perfect town, a tourist’s dream. It almost made them forget the horror that awaited them.

The sky was a pristine blue, as if it had been washed and polished by invisible hands.

With a loud clap of her hands, the guide drew their attention to her cheerful face. “I see you’re all taken by the charm of Spirit Vale town. Well, if any of you fancy making this your permanent home, I have some lovely houses for you to choose from.”

She reached into her bag and produced a bunch of keys, dangling them in front of the questers. They stared at her with a mixture of disbelief and envy. They had spent half their lives working hard to save up for a house, and here was an NPC casually offering them one…

Noticing the guide’s friendly smile, Xi Men Yuan decided to ask her a question that had been bothering him. “Excuse me, guide, but have there been any reports of people going missing in this town? We’ve heard some rumours…”

The guide’s expression changed in an instant. Her smile vanished and her eyes narrowed.

At that moment, a resident happened to walk by and saw the scene. He also looked angry and disgusted.

“What are you lot doing here, eh? If you’re just here to sightsee, I suggest you keep your mouths shut and don’t go spreading lies based on some outsider gossip! If that’s what you’re here for, then our town doesn’t want you here.”

His words only made the questers more curious and suspicious. 

Xi Men Yuan wanted to press him for more information, but the resident turned his back on them and walked away. The guide also averted her gaze, refusing to say anything else.

A hushed murmur of speculation rippled through the crowd of onlookers, who stood at a safe distance from the ominous tunnel. Lin Chu scanned the faces of the group but refrained from joining the conversation.

How odd, she thought. She had distinctly heard a voice in the tunnel earlier, but now it seemed that everyone was present. Did speaking in the tunnel not trigger the curse?

Unbeknownst to Lin Chu, a few dark clouds had moved across the sky, completely obscuring the sunlight and erasing the shadows on the ground.

If she had noticed, she might have seen that some of the people had already lost their…

They continued their walk back to their lodgings.

Despite the eerie atmosphere, Spirit Vale was a picturesque town. The buildings on either side of the road had a quaint charm, with gracefully curving eaves and intricate carvings. The snow-white walls were adorned with exquisite murals depicting scenes of life and death.

Lin Chu found herself drawn to those murals. She had been fortunate enough to escape the last tomb unharmed, but she sensed that something was amiss with the paintings. She felt a strong urge to decipher their meaning.

She also noticed that the murals bore a remarkable resemblance to the ones she had seen in the tomb chamber. Clearly, they were the work of the same artist.

Who was this mysterious painter? And did they still reside in this town?

**

Abandoning the grotesque sight of his own decomposing body, Lu Yan ran as fast as his legs could carry him. He felt a surge of panic and dread, as if death itself were chasing him. Behind him, the street lights dimmed and died in a sinister sequence, as if a dark force were snuffing them out. When the last light reached the festering corpse, everything fell silent and still for a long, long time.

So long that Lu Yan had managed to escape the city limits.

He held the Pisces jade pendant in his trembling hand, examining it with a mixture of curiosity and fear.

They say the Pisces jade pendant wasn’t a simple copy, but bought things from the future to the present. But what future did that corpse belong to?

And what horrors had he endured to end up in such a pitiful state?

The corpse’s clothes were drenched in blood, as if he had been stabbed or shot multiple times. Lu Yan had no idea which version of himself from which timeline had spawned this replica.

And why had it sought him out? As he remembered his past attempts to bury his body, Lu Yan wondered if there was some kind of magnetic pull between the “replica” and the original.

He contemplated these questions for a long, long time, until he finally decided to wrap one of the pendants in a cloth and stash it away.

He placed another piece of jade on the ground and stepped back, waiting for the inevitable.

For a long time, nothing happened. Then, the air began to warp and ripple, as if a heatwave was passing through.

A figure materialised out of thin air.

It was a person… a person who looked exactly like him.

No, this was him.

Lu Yan stared at his doppelganger.

He could read his own mind, so he could easily converse with this “person”, but he also knew his own flaws and secrets, so he could not trust anything he said. They both wanted the other to be the bait, to take the jade pendant and leave.

The fact that he was being hunted meant that he had stumbled upon something. Maybe his past had crossed paths with the truth, or maybe a version of him from another time and space had uncovered the truth. Either way, he had to retrace his steps and find out.

But neither Lu Yan was willing to concede or sacrifice themselves for the other. They were both too stubborn and selfish.

In the end, they both felt a sense of helplessness and frustration.

It was first Lu Yan who came up with the idea of using the jade pendant to create another copy of himself. “This is a dead end. Neither of us wants to be the sacrificial lamb, so why don’t we make a third one? As soon as he appears, we’ll overpower him and get out of here.”

The other nodded in agreement.

They stood shoulder to shoulder, watching the air warp and twist as the jade pendant worked its magic.

A third Lu Yan emerged.

Without hesitation, the first two pounced on him and pinned him down. They exchanged a quick glance and then fled the scene, leaving the third one to his fate.

Anyone facing certain death wouldn’t be looking rosy.

He looked out of the window, hoping for a glimpse of sunlight.

But it was dark.

Dark as night.

But it should have been morning.

He sighed, resigned to his fate.

If he had to die for “himself”…

With that thought, he opened the door and stepped into the darkness.

He had no idea what awaited him in the dark, but he walked on, feeling like he was trapped in a never-ending nightmare, unable to tell the difference between day and night, between life and death.

He drifted into a state of oblivion, becoming a walking corpse. He kept moving, driven by a primal instinct.

He knew he had to find someone.

But who?

Lu Yan, his clothes stained with blood, wondered vaguely.

Suddenly, the darkness that had engulfed him retreated like a wave, and he found himself bathed in sunlight again.

He lifted his head and gazed at the horizon.

Two paths beckoned him, each with a different allure.

What awaited him on those paths? He had no clue. He paused for a moment, then made his choice and headed towards one of them.

**

They had barely reached their lodgings when the sky turned pitch black. In a matter of seconds, the bright afternoon was replaced by a gloomy night.

The townsfolk seemed unfazed by this phenomenon; they quickly turned on their lights, and the town sparkled with faint glimmers.

The tour guide was tight-lipped and unhelpful. She flicked on the lights and left them to their own devices.

“This town is bloody strange, isn’t it?”

As soon as she was gone, the group breathed a sigh of relief. They quickly agreed to meet in the lobby downstairs to discuss their situation.

“We all know this town is not normal. The darkness comes out of nowhere, and the locals get twitchy if you mention the word ‘missing.’”

“But that also means we have no clue who’s missing.”

That was one of their tasks, to find the missing ‘someone’. But it seemed like a hopeless quest.

Who the hell was missing in the first place?

“I have another question. There’s only one missing person, and only Lu Yan who needs to die. But…” The speaker looked around nervously, “there are about fifty of us here, so how do we all kill him?”

“Shouldn’t it be enough if one of us does it, and then we all get out of here?”

“I’m more curious about Lu Yan’s identity. I asked the guide on the sly earlier, but she said she didn’t know.”

“Maybe we should talk to some of the other townspeople tomorrow.”

☆ 91

The hall was packed with people, more than fifty of them. Some of the newcomers had given up their seats to the old-timers, standing in the shadows or lean against the walls. Silent dread filled the air as they all listened to the speaker, or at least pretended to.

Lin Chu stood by the window, away from the crowd. She gazed out into the dark night, as if she was drawn to the abyss. In reality, she was observing everyone else, carefully studying their faces and movements.

She had a few individuals in her sights.

One of them was Xi Men Yuan, who sat on the far left of the sofa in the living room. His long hair was tied back in a messy bun, giving him an artsy vibe. Xi Men Yuan rarely spoke and seemed unconcerned about others. He would often simply stare at his long fingers, as if they held the most fascinating secrets in the world.

Behind Xi Men Yuan sat Tan Xu, who claimed to be his friend. Tan Xu was the kind of guy who blended in with the crowd and never stood out. He had a plain face, a plain voice, and a plain personality, making him easy to overlook.

On the opposite end of the sofa sat Shen Zhu (沈竹). 

(沈 (Shěn) is another common surname that means “sink” or “immerse”. 竹 (Zhú) is a unisex given name that means “bamboo”. 沈竹 could be interpreted as “a sunken bamboo” or “an immersed plant”.)

She had a short haircut and a stern expression. She always pursed her lips, as if holding something back. Her thick black eyebrows made her look angry, or maybe just fierce. Shen Zhu was a survivor, one of the few who had made it out of several group wipeout missions alive. Some people said she had killed her teammates, labelling her as a traitor or a monster. She was feared by many but respected by few.

Shen Zhu was surrounded by a swarm of girls, all of whom were newcomers. They clung to her, as if she were their defender, their leader. Lin Chu’s eyes paused on one of them, a girl with a feeble and fragile appearance named Yi Zhen Zhen.

Yi Zhen Zhen suddenly turned her head and met Lin Chu’s gaze. She smiled at her, a sweet and innocent smile, as if she had nothing to fear.

Lin Chu smiled back, a faint and polite smile, as if she were shy. She quickly looked away, pretending to be intrigued by the night sky. However, she secretly continued to observe the others through the reflection in the glass window.

It seemed like none of the taskers were ordinary folks.

Shen Zhu drummed her fingers on the table. “Since we have a crowd here, why don’t we assign some roles and responsibilities?”

On her right, another woman lounged on the sofa, presenting a striking contrast to the average Asian lady. She had a dark complexion, a muscular frame, and a height that surpassed most men. She radiated a forceful aura that demanded attention.

“I’m with you, gal. We can’t afford to waste time sitting on our arses. Let’s work out a strategy and get cracking first thing in the morning,” she agreed.

Xi Men Yuan nonchalantly commented, “Miss Di Ying, there’s no need to get your knickers in a twist. We’re operating on a shoestring of information right now.”

At the opposite end, a man called Ling Tong (凌桐) nodded in approval. “Without a trace of the missing person or a clue about this Lu Yan character, it would be foolish to act rashly. We’d be flying blind and heading straight for trouble.”

(凌 (Líng) is a unisex given name that means “exceed” or “surpass”. 桐 (Tóng) is another unisex given name that means “paulownia” or “phoenix tree”. 凌桐 could be interpreted as “a surpassing paulownia” or “an exceeding phoenix tree”.)

Di Ying (狄英), whose skin was as dark as the night sky, interjected, “If we don’t have enough information, we have to find it ourselves. Running around like headless chickens won’t get us anywhere. The best thing to do is to divide and conquer.”

(狄 (Dí) is a rare surname that means “barbarian” or “foreigner”. 英 (Yīng) is a unisex given name that means “hero” or “flower”. 狄英 could be interpreted as “a foreign hero” or “a barbarian flower”.)

Among the assembled group, a man who had remained silent until then finally spoke up. “There’s something I don’t quite understand.” 

He scanned the faces of the others, looking for signs of agreement or dissent. “We’re supposed to either locate or eliminate two targets, right? But there are fifty-three of us here. It’s obvious that once someone accomplishes the mission, we’ll all be free.”

His words raised a simple question: if they all shared the same goal, what was the point of fighting each other?

The tension in the air eased slightly.

After a brief pause, Xi Men Yuan shrugged. “I don’t care either way. Anyone want to join me?”

Although they were a large group, they were vastly outnumbered by the countless households in the town. To overcome this challenge, they devised elaborate strategies. As soon as they reached the town centre, they split into four teams based on the cardinal directions, each assigned to a different quadrant. They agreed to meet every evening to share their findings and avoid missing anything.

Lin Chu decided to follow Shen Zhu’s lead. Yu Huai Yao, who had initially intended to join Xi Men Yuan’s group, changed his mind and followed her instead.

Shen Zhu’s team was mostly composed of women, the same as Di Ying’s team. The other two teams had the opposite composition.

Once the teams were settled, the man who had raised the question earlier tried to lighten the mood once more. “I hope none of you are underestimating this mission just because we have a lot of people. On the contrary, the sheer number of us should tell you how difficult this task is going to be.”

With a faint smile, Xi Men Yuan nodded. “I appreciate the reminder, Jiang.”

Jiang Yu (姜御) remained silent, his expression unreadable.

( 姜 (Jiāng) is a surname that means “ginger” or “surname”. 御 (Yù) is a unisex given name that means “imperial” or “control”. 姜御 could be interpreted as “ginger control” or “An imperial surname”.)

Unnoticed by them, in a dark corner of the room, the shadows of several people began to shift and morph.

Gradually, they contorted into grotesque and unnatural forms.

Huddled in the corner, the little girl Yi Zhen Zhen felt a surge of despair. She had a vague suspicion about her mother’s fate but was too afraid to face the truth. So, she could only stare at her own toes.

As she did, something strange caught her eye.

The shadows… they were moving.

She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could utter a word, a shadow detached itself from the wall and darted towards her. It merged with her own shadow, and suddenly, Yi Zhen Zhen was assaulted by a horrifying vision.

It was her mother.

She lay in a dank and dismal chamber, covered in blood and wounds, still calling out for her daughter.

Tears welled up in Yi Zhen Zhen’s eyes, blurring the image that burned into her brain.

She couldn’t tell where the image came from, but something deep inside her knew it was real, that it was the last thing her mother ever saw.

Suddenly, another hand invaded the picture.

She followed that hand up, and found a young man she didn’t know, covered in blood and bruises, but still able to move his hand to her mother’s neck.

“No!!”

Yi Zhen Zhen sensed the horror that was about to happen.

But the hand showed no mercy. It clamped down hard, crushing the windpipe of the woman lying on the ground.

In the final frame, the man’s emotionless face faded into the darkness.

“No, please!!”

At that moment, all eyes turned to the corner, where the girl had erupted into sobs and shrieks of agony.

“Do not…” A piercing scream tore through the air as Yi Zhen Zhen collapsed to the ground, clutching her chest. Her mind was assaulted by a horrific vision: the face of her mother’s murderer, Lu Yan.

It was him. It had to be him. He was Lu Yan.

She wanted to rip him apart, to make him pay for what he had done.

Kill him… Kill him!

A dark and sinister force seeped out of the cracks in the floor, creeping towards the girl’s trembling form. It merged with her shadow, feeding on her rage and sorrow. Yi Zhen Zhen bowed her head, tears streaming down her face, but her eyes glinted with a cold and ruthless light.

The woman next to her recoiled in shock. “What’s the matter with you? Why did you scream like that?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Did you have a sudden nightmare?”

Yi Zhen Zhen inhaled sharply, trying to regain her composure. “No, it wasn’t a nightmare,” she said, her voice hoarse.

She looked around at the others, who were staring at her with a mix of curiosity and concern. “I know what Lu Yan looks like now,” she announced.

Her words caused a stir among the group, and Di Ying rose to his feet in a flash. “What do you mean? What happened?” she demanded.

Yi Zhen Zhen wasted no time in telling them what she had seen in her vision.

As she spoke, the others exchanged uneasy glances, all feeling a sense of disbelief and dread.

A surge of hope and curiosity filled their hearts as they wondered: could this be the clue for the mission?

But why would it only reveal itself to one underage girl?

The others racked their brains, but they came up empty. They felt even more frustrated when they heard Yi Zhen Zhen say that she couldn’t draw what she had seen.

Meanwhile, in a hidden spot, a bloodied figure lurked on the branches, gazing intently at everyone inside through the narrow slit of the open window.

**

Lu Yan knew that the jade pendant didn’t make a copy of him, but  brought his future self to past. And now, he had doomed his future self to die, which meant he had to alter his fate before the looming death node arrived to claim his life.

The taskers had already entered the world, and everything returned to normal.

“Give me one of the jade pendants,” Lu Yan from the future stretched out his hand, “I don’t have time to explain, but you have to trust me.”

Lu Yan stared at the other.

The eyes, mirroring his own, reflected the same icy wariness. He nodded and handed over one of the jade pendants to his other self, watching as they disappeared.

What secrets did his future self hold, what decisions did he face? Lu Yan wondered what he had uncovered in the future that had drawn such attention to him.

He had to act fast, before he got entangled in the mission.

Elsewhere, another Lu Yan strolled along the street.

He had made it back, thanks to his past self summoning. He had used various methods to find a way to travel back in time, but nothing had worked. He had struck a bargain with that god, and as a consequence, he had used his one chance to wish himself back to the past, after planting the idea of using the Pisces jade pendant in his past self’s mind.

It was time to move on to the next phase.

He had the advantage of knowing what the task was this time, as a traveller from the future, but he kept it to himself, to avoid altering the course of history.

Lu Yan hired a car, preparing to depart.

“Driver, take me to the Spirit Vale Town,” he instructed. The town’s entrance was within the city limits, so it wouldn’t take long by car.

The driver nodded silently, swerving the steering wheel and taking a different route.

The journey was shrouded in silence.

But the car did not glide smoothly towards the Spirit Vale Town, as he had expected. Instead, it abruptly veered off the road, the tires screeching loudly.

He jerked his head up, but the rearview mirror showed an empty driver’s seat. The driver had vanished.

He cursed under his breath.

Lu Yan reached for the backseat handle, but the rear door was locked, resisting his attempts to open it. He whipped out a metal knife from his pocket, carving a slit in the glass, then smashed the window with a powerful elbow. He wasted no time in jumping out of the opening.

He had barely landed when the car hurtled into a dark vortex that had appeared out of nowhere, swallowing it in a thick blackness.

Lu Yan spun around and sprinted back.

The taxi had ended up in an unfamiliar place, where a bleak silence hung in the air. On both sides of the road, bushes of various sizes loomed in the darkness, casting ominous shadows.

He sprinted forward, pushing himself to the limit. But it seemed that the thing that was after him was relentless. As he ran, he snapped out of his trance and realised that he had stumbled into a graveyard.

The darkness swallowed him, surrounding him with rows of grim tomb mounds. Lu Yan felt a chill of dread, and as he tried to escape, he discovered that the way he had come had disappeared, leaving behind a sea of graves that spanned the horizon.

On the other side, the dark tide rose again.

He was in trouble!

Lu Yan had a vague idea of what hid in the darkness. He attempted to run, but the grave in front of him burst open, unleashing a flood of blood that soaked him to the bone.

He was paralyzed.

The light around him slowly grew brighter. He squinted his eyes and saw that every tombstone in the graveyard bore his name!

There were no dates, only his name etched in crimson, with a single word below it—Death!

He was dead. Lu Yan was dead.

Grave after grave erupted, burying him in a sea of blood. A shriek of unbearable pain reverberated in the darkness.

Lu Yan, reliving his nightmare, had never imagined that he would die even sooner than before.

But he had no second chance now.

There was no link between his past self and his future self.

He could only pray that his past self would heed the clues he had left for him.

Under the watchful eye of that thing, he was powerless to do anything, or he would risk endangering his other self.

Hurry… find it.

**

The original Lu Yan was plagued by a gnawing unease.

He felt a sinister presence lurking in the shadows.

Ever since the world had changed, he had felt a faint hint of something special within him, but he had no clue what it was. He had been fumbling in the dark, searching for answers. When the tasker from another world showed up, he saw the similarities between the two worlds. He kept on fighting, hoping to find a way to restore the world to normalcy.

He had spent five or six years searching for answers, but he still had nothing to show for it. His goal had shifted. He had given up on restoring the world to normal. Because… this was nothing but a world of the dead. He only wished he could escape to that normal world.

He didn’t care if he became a tasker. He didn’t mind if he faced supernatural events now and then. He didn’t bother if he never met anyone he knew again. He just wanted to live a normal life.

But… ever since he had this thought, Lu Yan noticed that the tasks that had been manageable for him before became harder and harder, and in the final stages, they were downright lethal.

Was it his fault?

Did his thoughts alter his future, endangering the thing that was after him? Was it hunting him down?

Feeling that omnipresent stare, Lu Yan clenched his muscles, but he had to act oblivious.

What had his future self found out?

Was he in mortal danger?

Lu Yan instinctively wanted to create another copy of himself, but as soon as this idea crossed his mind, the overwhelming sense of danger made him quash it.

He’s going to die.

If he does this, he will definitely die.

A sudden shiver ran through his body.

Lu Yan had always trusted his gut feeling, and right now, it was telling him that something was terribly wrong. The other him, the one he had created, was in grave danger.

Without wasting any time, he bolted out of the room, sprinting down the stairs.

He had barely left when a loud explosion rocked the building. Someone in the next room had been tampering with a microwave and a can of insect spray, causing the entire floor to go up in flames.

Lu Yan reached the roadside, his heart pounding in his chest.

If he had stayed in that room, he would have been dead.

But as this thought crossed his mind, he saw a taxi hurtling towards him from afar. It was swerving wildly, as if the driver had lost control, and it was headed straight for him.

He glanced at the driver’s seat of the car, and his blood ran cold. There was no one there. It was a ghost car.

Lu Yan leapt to the other side of the road, dodging the car by a hair’s breadth. He watched as it smashed into the gas station behind him, erupting into a ball of fire.

Hold on! The gas station!

He ran for his life, feeling the heat on his back. A moment later, a thunderous blast shook the ground, sending flames and debris into the air.

Someone was targeting him!

Lu Yan had no choice but to keep running.

He knew that whatever was hunting him could not harm him directly, like sending a ghost to strangle him. It had to use the environment, creating deadly accidents that looked like coincidences. But he also knew that these were not real coincidences. They were traps. And he had very little chance of escaping them.

☆ 92

As darkness enveloped the city, a colossal fireball erupted, hurling fiery plumes into the air.

Illuminated by the blazing inferno, Lu Yan vaulted over the railing. He barely landed on his feet when a series of detonations shattered the silence, sending a car door flying towards him. It grazed his shoulder, then slammed into the concrete where he had been moments ago.

A fraction of a second slower, and that car door would have sliced him in half.

He evaded the first onslaught, but more shrapnel followed in the wake of the explosion. Lu Yan twisted and turned, avoiding the worst of it, but some fragments still tore through his flesh, leaving crimson trails behind.

He didn’t stop running.

On the rooftop of the next building, a hopeless man drained his final bottle of booze before plunging into the void.

A surge of urgency propelled Lu Yan, spurring him to increase his speed. He sprinted past the neighbouring building, just as a lifeless body smashed into the pavement, spraying gore everywhere.

A heartbeat later, and that body would have crushed him.

He didn’t dare to glance back. He bent down, clearing a thin wire that spanned the street at the level of his throat.

A faint glimmer of light caught his eye, alerting him to the danger ahead. Otherwise, he would have run straight into the trap and gotten his head cut off.

Who was behind this ruthless attack?

He thought of his doppelganger who had taken his second jade pendant. Was he still alive? Had he escaped?

Lu Yan had always relied on his instincts to survive. He could sense danger before it struck and find the best way out of any situation. But now, he felt trapped and cornered. No matter which way he turned, there was a threat waiting for him. He had nowhere to hide, nowhere to catch his breath.

He dashed past another storefront, which exploded behind him, sending glass fragments flying in all directions. Simultaneously, a chain of blasts rocked the shops in front of him, keeping pace with his frantic sprint.

It was as if someone had rigged them with bombs and was detonating them remotely. He realised he was being herded, like a sheep to the slaughter.

He was already bruised and bloodied from the night’s ordeal.

He did not realise that the storefronts concealed a more sinister sight.

Inside, ghostly figures loomed, their faces pale and blurry. They fixed their gaze on him, as if they could see through the broken glass.

The windows were shattered for a reason — to cut off Lu Yan’s escape.

Lu Yan, despite his exceptional skills and abilities, felt a surge of exhaustion wash over him as he faced the relentless hostility that surrounded him.

Death lurked behind every corner, waiting for a chance to strike. He had to be vigilant, alert, and careful. 

He could not afford to die.

Not now, not ever.

**

An Ru lay in the hospital bed, enveloped by a stark white that hurt his eyes. The sterile environment contrasted sharply with the chaos in his mind. 

“Come on, mate, you need to look after yourself better.” His colleague said, peeling an orange for him and setting it on the bedside table. “You can’t keep pushing yourself like this.”

An Ru just stared at the ceiling, lost in his thoughts. His colleague tried to cheer him up with some small talk, but soon gave up and left.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Chu Xiu entered, closing the door behind him.

Chu Xiu had a vague sense of familiarity with the person who had just exited, but he could not recall where he had seen them before. He shrugged it off and approached An Ru, who gestured for him to sit down.

Both of them had done their homework on each other, digging up as much information as they could. But this was the first time they met face to face, and they had to act as if they were strangers.

Chu Xiu had agreed to come here in Lin Chu’s place. It was the deal they made. 

“I don’t think I’ll be coming back from this one,” Lin Chu said, without a trace of emotion in her voice. “You know what I’m trying to do, and I need to know if you’re with me on this.”

Chu Xiu felt a strange surge of sympathy for her, despite their past differences.

“There’s something else, though…” Lin Chu hesitated, as if she wanted to share a something, but then closed her mouth. Her eyes betrayed a deep anxiety that weighed on her mind.

Chu Xiu sensed that her concern was not just about her own fate, but about something far more terrifying that loomed in the future.

“What are you planning to do, exactly?” Chu Xiu asked, feeling a chill run down his spine.

She reminded him of Lu Yan, the way she kept her cards close to her chest, making her impossible to anticipate. But Lin Chu was even more enigmatic than Lu Yan.

Lin Chu looked away, towards the distant horizon, where the sun was setting in a blaze of red. “I want to put an end to this nightmare, once and for all.”

As he remembered her words and faced An Ru, Chu Xiu was torn between hope and fear.

Chu Xiu greeted him with a warm smile. “Good day, Mr. An Ru, I presume?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I have some new information for you about your son’s disappearance.”

An Ru’s eyes sparkled with hope as he heard Chu Xiu’s words.

“Mr. An Ru,” Chu Xiu went on, locking the door behind him and walking towards him slowly, “tell me, do you believe in ghosts in this world?”

“Ghosts? What are you talking about?”

An Ru asked, confused, as Chu Xiu reached him and opened his laptop in front of him.

NPCs cannot be informed of the mission, but he could still communicate with others in this world.

A weird thought crossed his mind: why hadn’t the missions been announced to the public yet?

But he dismissed it as soon as it appeared. He was like those who had leaked secrets before, and had forgotten about the inconsistency.

An Ru scanned the website, his face turning from curiosity to shock. “Is this… is this all true?”

“Every word of it,” Chu Xiu said, shutting the laptop. “Your son was involved in this too.”

That was why he had gone missing.

Chu Xiu left him with those words, turning on his heel and walking out of the room.

An Ru lay on the hospital bed, struggling to process what Chu Xiu had told him, when a powerful, inexplicable sensation, like a wave of nausea or a jolt of adrenaline, swept over him, sending his thoughts into a whirlwind.

“What… mission…”

**

Meanwhile, the ones who were actually on the mission were roaming the streets, looking for clues.

The town’s inhabitants were all friendly and hospitable, and the scenery was quite charming. But there was something off about this place, something that made them uneasy, something that sent shivers down their spines.

Xi Men Yuan led his team towards the east of the town.

He had split them into three groups, each taking one of the main roads that led to the east. He took the middle one, accompanied by his friend Tan Xu. They were joined by two rookies, who gazed around with fascination at the buildings that lined the street.

The buildings were indeed stunning. The hedges on either side of the road were neatly clipped, and among them stood many realistic statues, as if frozen in time. Ahead of them, a fountain sparkled in the park. It would have been a lovely place to visit, if they weren’t on a mission.

A group of elderly gentlemen were using the public exercise equipment, making the iron pillar groan with their efforts.

The group of taskers moved forward.

Without warning, the person at the back of the group lost his footing and tumbled to the ground.

A small uneven patch on the floor caused him to lunge forward, smashing his head against the end of the seesaw with a sickening thud.

“Come on, get up.” His companion exclaimed, reaching out to pull him up, only to find him cold and lifeless.

A wave of shock and horror swept over the group, as they realised that one of their own had died right under their noses, and they had no clue how it happened. Could this be a mere coincidence, or was there something more sinister at play?

Xi Men Yuan stared at the corpse on the ground, feeling a chill run down his spine.

What exactly happened just now?

Why did the killing suddenly start?

Xi Men Yuan had surmised that this Lu Yan and the missing person must have been formidable adversaries, warranting such a large team to hunt them down. He had hoped that the bloodshed aimed at them would subside until they accomplished their objective. But to his dismay, he soon discovered that they had lost a team member as soon as the operation started.

If they failed to unravel the mystery of his death, he feared that he might be the next one to meet a grisly end.

The handful of elderly people who were still engaged in their exercise routine appeared indifferent, displaying no sign of alarm at the sight of the lifeless body. They carried on with their workout as if nothing had happened, with one of the old men even flaunting his prowess by doing pull-ups, relying on his good physical strength.

Xi Men Yuan exhaled deeply, aware that this was not the time to lose his temper.

“Good day, elderly gentlemen. We are…” He rose to his feet and approached the old-timers.

But before he could utter another word, the old man who was doing pull-ups emitted a piercing shriek. His arms seemed to suddenly give way, losing their hold on the railing, and he plunged down, crashing on the ground.

The old man’s bones were fragile, and after hitting the ground, he was unable to stand up. In the distance, among a group of youngsters who were also exercising, one of them was hurling a discus.

Having completed his warm-up, he unleashed a loud cry and flung the discus forward with all his might. Alas, his aim was faulty, and the discus veered off course, striking an oblivious old man squarely on the head.

The old man toppled over, dead on the spot.

Xi Men Yuan was rooted to the spot, dumbstruck.

Could it be… that the random deaths were not limited to their group?

That even the NPCs were affected.

The other elderly people who were exercising nearby showed no shock. They casually rose from their equipment, while the young man who had thrown the discus sprinted over.

“Look at you, so reckless,” chided one old lady.

The young man expressed his sincere apologies and summoned a few mates to help carry the corpse away.

“No, you can’t just…” A young man called Liang Jian (梁间), who was standing behind Xi Men Yuan, was flabbergasted.

(梁 (Liáng) is a surname that means “beam” or “bridge”. 间 (Jiān) is a unisex given name that means “between” or “space”. 梁间 could be interpreted as “a space between beams” or “a bridge between spaces”.)

Since when did deaths become so trivial? How could someone’s demise be as mundane as eating and drinking?

The young man gazed at him with bewilderment. “What’s wrong?”

Tan Xu stretched out his arm and yanked him abruptly. Liang Jian came to his senses, clumsily waved his hand and feigned a smile. “It’s nothing, I just reckon you should be more cautious next time.”

With a series of nods, the young man muttered, “Yeah, yeah,” as he lifted the iron disc from the blood-soaked ground, feeling a pang of sorrow clutching his chest. “It’s hard to clean off the blood stains.”

Watching his genuine regret, contrasting with the indifference, the tasker’s eyes drifted to his companion, who had been chatting with him moments ago but now lay lifeless on the grass. A shiver ran down his spine, and a cold dread crept up from his core.

The town, which had once seemed so quaint and charming to him, had lost all its appeal. Only horror and eeriness lingered in his sight.

“Oh, by the way, could you move him too? He’s taking up space. Old Zhang’s grandson is coming to play on the seesaw later.”

An elderly lady, who had resumed her exercise routine on the fitness equipment, pointed to the corpse lying nearby.

Xi Men Yuan flashed a smile at the old lady. “We’ll move him right away.”

He gestured to the people behind him, and despite the reluctance of the other two newcomers, they still bent down to lift the body, preparing to carry it back.

Xi Men Yuan and Tan Xu didn’t leave, instead staying behind to chat with the group of old people, engaging in idle conversation.

Before long, Old Zhang arrived with his grandson, accompanied by seven or eight other children. They gathered around the seesaw and swing, running and playing on the grass still stained with blood, their laughter echoing into the distance.

As Xi Men Yuan observed the eerie aspects of the small town, he had to suppress his curiosity and unease until the opportune moment. He cautiously broached the topic that had brought him here, and uttered in a low voice, “There was someone I knew, once, who came to this place as well.”

Old Zhang, who went by that name among the locals, leaned in eagerly and demanded, “And then?”

Xi Men Yuan hesitated, unsure of how to continue. He whispered, “He… vanished. And I…” He stopped mid-sentence, as he noticed the sudden change in the atmosphere. Just like the previous times, the mention of vanishing elicited a palpable sense of dread among the townsfolk, as though they were confronted with a terrible secret. 

Old Zhang’s face hardened into a scowl, and he snapped, “Vanished? There’s no such thing here. Why do you insist on bringing it up?”

The little girl, who had been swinging joyfully on the swing, joined the conversation with a shrill voice, “You better watch your mouth, or we’ll kick you out!”

☆ 93

The hostile glares of the other elderly folk pierced through Xi Men Yuan as they gradually formed a circle around him.

“How long will you persist with this nonsense? You keep babbling about disappearances, but who are these missing people? Where is your proof?”

“You have no proof, and yet you dare to slander us!”

Xi Men Yuan felt a surge of panic, and hastily corrected himself, “No, you misunderstand me. My friend didn’t vanish here, but somewhere else.”

He knew it was futile. The stubbornness of these old-timers and the guide from yesterday, who insisted that nothing strange ever happened in this town, made them impossible to reason with.

They were hiding something, he was sure of it. And this thing… it might have something to do with his mission.

What was the dark secret that bound these people together in silence?

He wondered, but he knew he wouldn’t get any answers from them. He needed to take some drastic measures, if he wanted to uncover the truth about the missing persons.

Xi Men Yuan realised that he needed to change his strategy, as his previous attempts had failed miserably.

The elderly folk still wore sour faces, clearly unconvinced by his words.

“You lot came here pretending to be tourists for a jolly holiday, but you’re nothing but troublemakers.” One of the elders grabbed a cane and swung it at Xi Men Yuan with a menacing force.

Xi Men Yuan dodged the blow, holding back his urge to fight back. The old man soon ran out of steam, and rested on his cane, gasping for air.

“Keep spewing nonsense, and we’ll kick you out of this town! We don’t want your kind here!”

“We’re not, we’re not! We’re just looking for our friend.”

“Is that so? Looking for your friend, are you? Then tell me, what’s your friend’s name? What does he look like? I bet you can’t even give me a clear picture, can you?”

Xi Men Yuan kept his cool, and replied, “His name is Lu Yan. He’s a traveller, who has been to many places. He told me that he had been to the Spirit Vale Town before.”

He made up some details on the spot, hoping to appease the old man. His expression softened slightly, as if he was considering his words.

As the last traces of Xi Men Yuan’s group faded into the distance, the old man finally shifted his gaze, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. “Lu Yan… that name rings a bell.”

The others shook their heads. “You must be mistaken. Lu is not a common surname around here, and we don’t know anyone by that name.”

“Where did you hear it? And please don’t spread it around. This group has been bothering us for too long, when will they leave us alone?”

**

Meanwhile, on the opposite side of town, Yi Zhen Zhen and her companions walked leisurely.

She had received a sudden “hint” about the mission, and for the time being, she was the “only” one who had caught a glimpse of Lu Yan’s face. Shen Zhu had given them strict instructions to protect her with their lives.

Of course, they all understood that once Lu Yan appeared, Yi Zhen Zhen’s special status would become irrelevant.

Lin Chu stayed close to Yi Zhen Zhen.

Her face resembled that of a delicate doll, and her newcomer status made Yi Zhen Zhen lower her guard around her, finding Lin Chu quite friendly. The two quickly developed a good rapport.

“Is it true that you saw Lu Yan?” Lin Chu asked, her tone filled with concern.

Yi Zhen Zhen nodded with conviction, “I saw him, I’m positive it was him.”

Her gaze burned with loathing, “He’s the monster who took my mother’s life, I’ll make him pay.”

Lin Chu offered her sympathy and then queried, “Can you recall the surroundings?”

Yi Zhen Zhen had answered this question many times, but faced with Lin Chu’s gentle inquiry, she complied without hesitation.

Lin Chu mulled over her words, her expression impassive.

An ancient tomb, murals, shadowy figures…

Hold on, if in the scene she witnessed, Lu Yan had transformed into a hideous creature with rotting flesh, how could she still be so confident she could identify him?

Yi Zhen Zhen shook her head, “I have no idea, but I can recognise him, even if he crumbles to dust!”

Her eyes overflowed with intense hatred.

At that instant, they reached the amusement park in the town.

One end of the small town was dominated by a shopping mall and a market, where an inflatable castle served as a convenient dumping ground for parents who wanted to shop in peace. Numerous children frolicked on it, having the time of their lives.

The inflatable castle was rather spacious, with a little girl in a red dress as its main attraction. Her face was deathly pale, except for two round rosy cheeks that were painted on, and she sported a wide grin with her arms outstretched. A longue colossal slide protruded from her open mouth to the second floor. Countless children delighted in sliding down from her mouth, giggling as they went.

Yi Zhen Zhen felt a pang of envy. She was still in high school and had a soft spot for things that appealed to younger children. But she was aware that it was not the time for fun and games now, so she could only steal a wistful glance before looking away.

Lin Chu casually purchased a bottle of drink and handed it to a young boy nearby. Noticing the boy’s flushed and sweaty face, Lin Chu smiled and dabbed his sweat for him.

“Where are your parents?” she inquired.

The young boy, without much wariness, responded, “They’re out shopping.”

“Well, you stay safe, okay? Don’t go off with strangers. If you disappear, your parents will be frantic.”

The young boy eyed her. “Adults always tell me not to drink water from strangers.”

Lin Chu replied, “But I’m not a wicked person. If I were, I wouldn’t have cautioned you.”

The young boy gulped down most of it, peeled off a sweater and placed it next to his shoes. He also put the drink bottle beside them and then dashed off to the toilet.

As a result of her earlier action of purchasing a drink, several other kids also clustered around, keenly observing Lin Chu.

Lin Chu beamed at the group of children and gestured. “Come, come, please help yourselves to some drinks.”

The kids glanced at each other, enticed. With one child acting as the leader, the rest trailed behind, leaping down from the edge.

The edge was not high, and kids are tough. They landed unscathed. Lin Chu ignored them and turned to cross the road to find the drink vendor who was guarding her stand.

Hence, she failed to notice that when one of the kids jumped down, he inadvertently toppled over the drink bottle that the young boy had left on the ground.

The bottle was not securely closed, so it tipped over, rolling a few times before halting near an electrical outlet, liquid seeping out, with a few drops splattering into the outlet.

A cluster of power strips supplied the inflatable castle with the energy it needed to stay afloat. But as water seeped into the sockets, a faint trail of smoke curled up from the cords.

No one noticed it.

Inside the castle, a group of children huddled against the walls, gazing out of the windows, eagerly anticipating Lin Chu’s comeback.

Hiss… hiss…

The smoke thickened, and sparks flew from the wires. In a matter of seconds, the sparks turned into a fiery blast, sending electric currents along the severed cords. The air pump sputtered and died, leaving the castle to deflate slowly.

It all happened so fast, and no one noticed.

The children kept on laughing and jumping, sliding down the red girl’s mouth.

Lin Chu returned with some drinks, and glanced at the inflatable castle across the street.

Something was wrong with the slide. It looked smaller than before, and the arms on either side sagged down.

Was it leaking?

No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than the entire castle began to crumble, dragging down the children who had scaled its heights along with it.

“Ah—”

A violent blast of wind swept through, stinging their eyes and making them squint. The castle was hurled several metres away, lurching to one side and rolling over and over before smashing into the ground.

The shrieks intensified, and several tiny bodies were flung into the air, only to plummet onto the merciless concrete below.

To compound the horror, Yi Zhen Zhen was standing close by, barely a metre away, and was instantly swallowed by the mayhem.

It was as if this calamity, a concatenation of freak occurrences, was designed to snuff out her life alone.

“Quick, get her out! She’s important!” Shen Zhu’s face drained of colour, and she darted towards the scene, but was forced to halt.

In the wake of the sudden upheaval, several children had been tossed onto the roadside. A car, oblivious to their plight, ran them over, causing the driver to slam on the brakes. This sparked a series of crashes right in front of Shen Zhu, barring her way.

Something sinister had ensnared her from within, rendering her immobile despite Lin Chu’s strength. She strained to lift the fabric once more, but it stubbornly adhered to the ground, as if cemented there by some invisible force.

Lin Chu knew then that Yi Zhen Zhen’s fate was sealed.

But she could not afford to let her guard down.

The chaos around her was punctuated by the shrill sound of police sirens, drawing nearer by the second.

Through the fabric, Lin Chu glimpsed the faint twitching of the body underneath.

She extended her hand, groping blindly, until she found the other’s neck beneath the thick layers of cloth. She pressed her fingertips gently, feeling the pulse throbbing weakly, before she slowly applied pressure.

‘I never meant to kill you. But you shouldn’t have seen Lu Yan’s face.’

He must have discovered the secret that put the shadowy entity behind him in danger, causing a mission to release a swarm of pursuers.

He couldn’t die. Not yet.

She had to keep him alive, at least for a little while longer.

Time was not an issue for this task, as long as Lu Yan drew breath, she could linger indefinitely until a clue surfaced.

Still clutching the other person’s throat with one hand, Lin Chu feigned a look of distress and sorrow and twisted her head to scream for help.

It took some time, but eventually a group of individuals arrived and started to lift the weighty fabric that had buried them. It was an inflatable castle, once a joyful plaything for children, now a perilous snare. A few fortunate ones managed to escape, but the majority met their demise in the ensuing mayhem. Some had their necks snapped upon impact, while others had their lungs crushed under the sheer weight.

Shen Zhu was late. She had been held up by a series of bizarre events that seemed to conspire against her. But when she got there, she saw only death. Yi Zhen Zhen lay motionless on the ground. 

Shen Zhu felt a surge of anger and frustration. She had failed.

Yu Huai Yao was also late. He had faced similar obstacles on his way, as if someone was deliberately trying to stop him. He reached the scene just after Shen Zhu, and his face darkened when he saw the carnage. He knew what this meant. Their chances of finding Lu Yan had just dropped significantly.

“What do we do, Sister Shen?” 

Without Yi Zhen Zhen, they had lost their only clue to Lu Yan’s face. The town was not too big, but not too small either. It was the perfect place to hide someone, especially if you didn’t know their appearance.

Lin Chu echoed his question, pretending to be as worried as him. “Yes, what do we do?”

Shen Zhu’s eyes fixed on Yi Zhen Zhen’s neck for a while, until the body was zipped up and carted away.

Shen Zhu had no choice but to say, “Let’s go somewhere else first.”

She had noticed the bruise on Yi Zhen Zhen’s neck, a clear indication of strangulation. Yi Zhen Zhen hadn’t died from suffocation as they initially believed. Someone had murdered her.

But who? 

Shen Zhu had arrived late. Upon her arrival, she witnessed a group of anxious townspeople attempting to assist the survivors of the inflatable castle collapse. The only individual near Yi Zhen Zhen was Lin Chu.

Could it be Lin Chu? Could she have killed Yi Zhen Zhen and pretended to be innocent?

Shen Zhu dismissed the thought, but not entirely.

Or maybe it wasn’t a person at all. Maybe it was a ghost.

She stayed silent, keeping her thoughts hidden from the others. But she couldn’t hide her gaze, which occasionally darted towards Lin Chu.

Lin Chu noticed her gaze, but didn’t say anything. She maintained the same look of anxiety and panic, just like everyone else. She played the role of a newcomer perfectly, blending in with the others.

**

The night passed.

The morning sun broke through the clouds, scattering the gloom that had enveloped the town. It brought some relief to Lu Yan, who had been running for his life all night.

One peril after another, he had skillfully avoided, narrowly escaping with his life intact.

Finding a spot by the roadside, he sat down to catch his breath, keeping a vigilant eye out for any indication of trouble.

In this moment of reprieve, he seized the opportunity to contemplate and reflect upon his predicament.

In his current existence, there were three versions of himself – his own corpse and two other selves from an unknown future.

A total of four.

Can the same person truly exist in the same time and space?

He felt the weight of the jade pendant in his pocket, wrapped in a piece of cloth. He dared not touch it, but instead, he opened his collar and examined the mark on his chest. 

Were the others still alive?

For some reason, a pang of unease gripped him, forming a knot in his stomach. He didn’t care much about his future selves, whether they lived or died. But he cared about the jade pendant.

He took a few deep breaths, attempting to calm himself. Slowly, he rose to his feet, ready to move forward.

But then, he remembered. He recalled what had transpired yesterday when he encountered his future self. He remembered the words whispered in his ear, words that had erased his memory until he felt secure enough to recall them.

Yesterday…yesterday…

His future self had hypnotised him, planting a message in his mind. A message that he would remember only when he felt safe again.

Immediately, he rushes back.

“Head to Spirit Vale Town and then proceed to the ancient tomb,” his future self had instructed him.

Why that particular town, he wondered.

What had he discovered there? What secrets had he unearthed?

As the city awakened to a new day, its slumbering streets came to life. The air filled with voices, intermingling with the sounds of bustling traffic and commerce.

People hurried along the streets, tending to their daily affairs. Some cast curious glances at the man who appeared to have endured a harrowing ordeal. His clothes were tattered and stained with blood, his hair unkempt and dirty, his face bruised and weary. They whispered among themselves, but none dared to approach him.

Lu Yan paid no mind to the inquisitive stares and hushed comments.

He felt a momentary sense of relief, a brief respite from the relentless threat that had pursued him since the previous night.

Yet, he remained vigilant, knowing that he had not yet escaped danger. Someone was orchestrating events, leading him towards Spirit Vale Town.

What awaited him in that town?

With his last bit of money, he purchased a bus ticket to Spirit Vale Town. 

Boarding the bus, he found himself alone in the vehicle. Lu Yan settled into his usual seat by the window and the door, pulling back the curtains to observe the changing landscape outside.

The driver struck up a conversation. “You’re not the first person recently heading to Spirit Vale Town. Just the other day, a whole crowd of people filled this bus, all excited to get there. I don’t know what they were searching for, but they seemed unafraid of the disappearances that have been occurring there.”

Lu Yan frowned at the word choice. “A crowd of people?”

The driver nodded. “Yeah, a whole busload of them, all heading to Spirit Vale Town. What do you think they were looking for? They didn’t seem concerned about the danger of disappearing like the others who came before them.”

Lu Yan felt a wave of alarm. “Disappearing? What do you mean?”

The driver began to explain.

As he spoke, the bus approached Spirit Vale Town, drawing closer and closer.

**

“… Lost civilization? A recent discovery by an archaeological team in a newly unearthed ancient tomb has stunned the world…”

Chu Xiu was scrolling through the website news while the television blared the news in the background. He gave it a cursory glance, uninterested, and resumed his own activity.

This website was a miracle, a mystery. How had no one in authority noticed it yet?

A flash of inspiration crossed Chu Xiu’s mind, but it quickly dimmed and disappeared, as if an eraser had wiped it out. He scowled, writing it down anyway, wavering before finally choosing to post about the website on a well-known public forum.

The outcome? The post refused to be sent.

No matter what he tried – screenshots, text, even phone calls to the officials – he failed to expose this secret to the public. After several fruitless attempts, his account was even locked. Chu Xiu had no choice but to abandon his efforts.

It appeared that sharing this with a few select people was acceptable, but revealing it to the masses was forbidden.

In the meantime, the television continued to air the news.

“… Experts are working hard to decode the new type of writing and murals in the ancient tomb. They believe that this discovery will surely become one of the major breakthroughs in the archaeological field…”

By chance, at that moment, An Ru rang.

“Was what you showed me that day really real?” An Ru still doubted it.

He had finally uncovered the truth behind the sinister case he was investigating, but he also wished he could erase it from his mind.

In this world… ghosts were real! And there was another world beyond this one, a world that shattered his long-standing faith in science.

Chu Xiu said, “I’m not lying to you.”

A heavy silence hung on the other end of the phone, then An Ru said, “I got a mission too.”

Chu Xiu feigned surprise, “Really? What kind of mission?”

He knew what was going on. Lin Chu had informed him about the chance to enter the mission, so he realised that she was giving him a hint on how to handle An Ru.

If he was curious about his son, then he should see for himself.

Chu Xiu deduced Lin Chu’s intentions, admiring her cold-bloodedness. But as part of the bargain, he had to keep quiet and conceal it.

Only this way could he lure An Ru into it.

☆ 94

The quaint town workout area was still buzzing with the chatter of a few elderly men and women who had lingered after their morning exercise.

One of them, however, remained silent and pensive. His companions noticed his unusual demeanour and prodded him curiously. “What’s eating you? The visitors have been gone for a while, and you haven’t uttered a single word.”

The old man gestured vaguely with his hand, his brow creased with frustration. “Doesn’t the name Lu Yan ring a bell for any of you? I have this nagging feeling that I’ve encountered it somewhere before.”

“Really? It doesn’t sound familiar to me.”

“Now that you mention it, I do feel a bit familiar.”

“Can you elaborate? Perhaps I can jog my memory too.”

The old man shook his head, still perplexed. “It’s baffling… Where on earth have I come across this name before…”

As his face grew more troubled, the others sensed that something was wrong.

“Never mind, it’s probably just old age. Let the youngsters sort it out at their own pace.”

“Ah, just drop it already. It’s not worth racking your brains over.”

The old man paid no heed to their words, his brow crinkling more and more, his face twisting in agony.

“Where have I heard it… where? I… I’m certain I’ve heard it…” His thin hand pounded his head violently. “I must have heard it! Where? Where did this name come from?”

“Easy now, easy. There’s no need to get so worked up over this.”

“No! I must have heard it! I must remember!” The old man’s eyes were bloodshot, gripping his friend’s collar desperately. “Do you remember? Do you recognise him?”

“What’s gotten into you? Let go of me, let go!”

“Where have I heard it? Where?” After being forcefully pulled away, the old man collapsed, holding his head, whispering to himself.

“Who is he…”

“He’s lost his marbles, that’s what.” Others backed away, wanting to steer clear of the trouble.

Images flickered in his mind, slowly gaining focus.

The old man’s eyes gradually widened, his hands trembling uncontrollably.

He remembered…

That, er, the fellow named Lu Yan, he had visited the town before, and at that time, everyone greeted him cordially. But no one could have foreseen the calamity that he would unleash upon their town!

“I remembered, I’ve figured it out!” the old man cried out suddenly, leaping from his seat fervently. 

New images flashed in his mind.

He saw Lu Yan’s grinning face as he swung a massive axe that was taller than a child, cleaving him in two with a single stroke…

So, he had been dead for a long time…

“You remembered? Remember what?” another person approached, observing him standing motionless and extending a hand to pat his shoulder.

But the slightest contact was enough to trigger a gruesome effect. The person split in half from head to toe and collapsed to the floor in a splash of crimson and ivory. The old man was soaked in the viscera of his companion.

He stood there frozen, his face covered in blood, unable to comprehend the horror. After a few moments, he let out a piercing scream.

**

“This is madness, this is carnage. How many people have died in the town today? Could it be because of our presence?”

As the sun set, the weary survivors made their way back to their temporary shelter, hoping for a night of rest and respite.

Shen Zhu was the last one to arrive, and as she pushed the door, she was met with a chorus of voices from within.

The rest turned their gaze towards her, searching for any indication of their crucial companion, the one who had been essential to their mission.

Ling Tong’s brow furrowed, “Miss Shen Zhu, please tell us, what happened to Yi Zhen Zhen?”

Yu Huai Yao, who stood behind Shen Zhu, looked like a ghost, his face drained of colour and his eyes hollow. “She’s gone,” he said, his voice barely audible.

“Gone?!”

The word echoed in the room, sending shockwaves through the crowd. Some of them slammed their fists on the table, demanding, “How did she die?”

Shen Zhu’s eyes were icy, as she glared at them. “This is a mission, not a holiday. Death is always a possibility. No one is guaranteed to survive.”

Yu Huai Yao softly narrated the events that led to Yi Zhen Zhen’s death. As he spoke, he felt a pang of doubt in his heart. It was odd, he thought, that no one had seen what happened, that no one could save her. 

No, something was off… There was someone…

Shen Zhu had confided in him earlier that she had some misgivings about Lin Chu, but she lacked any proof to back up her suspicions.

Yu Huai Yao’s eyes darted around, deciding to keep his doubts to himself for now. He intended to retrieve the body from the police station tomorrow. Once he had the evidence in his hands, he would confront Lin Chu and expose her lies.

The others shuddered as they learned the true cause of Yi Zhen Zhen’s death.

This town was a nightmare, a place where death lurked around every corner.

But something was still amiss… Shen Zhu scanned the hall. “Is everyone accounted for?”

The group was smaller than before, missing not only Yi Zhen Zhen, but also five others.

Xi Men Yuan spoke up, “I’m down one person. He tripped, smashed his head on the seesaw, and bled out.”

Jiang Yu said, “I lost two. One got crushed by a flowerpot that fell from the sky, and the other got electrocuted by a GG sign that came crashing down.”

Di Ying continued, “Same here, two gone. One drowned in a well when the water level rose suddenly and we couldn’t pull her out. The other got stabbed in the eye by a paper plane that a kid threw at her on the street and failed to avoid the truck.”

The room grew quiet as they recounted the deaths of their comrades.

These deaths were too bizarre. There were no signs of any ghosts, just a series of freak accidents, but that only made it more horrifying.

Xi Men Yuan broke the silence with a question, “Any leads?”

Their eyes met, conveying their mutual frustration.

Tan Xu voiced his observation, “The locals recoil at the mere mention of ‘disappearance’. They act as if we’re accusing them of something. They deny any knowledge of a Lu Yan.”

“Maybe they’re so scared of the word because they’ve seen too many disappearances before,” another chimed in.

Something was definitely off about the townspeople.

“And death doesn’t seem to bother them either, as if…” someone trailed off, unsure how to express their thoughts, “as if it’s as commonplace as breathing, not a cause for alarm.”

What kind of twisted town was this?

“Spirit Vale…” Xi Men Yuan whispered the name, as if trying to make sense of it.

Spirit Vale—a town shrouded in mystery, where mediums were said to dwell, those who could speak to the dead and cross the boundary between the physical and the spiritual.

Was there any truth to these rumours?

Jiang Yu, usually silent, finally offered his opinion, “I think we need a different strategy.

— This task has no deadline, which means we’re stuck in this world until we either kill Lu Yan or find the missing person.

— And right now, there are no signs of any ghosts or curses or anything supernatural. All these deaths have been caused by coincidences, but these coincidences are too convenient to be random.”

— From another perspective, as long as we steer clear of these coincidences, we don’t have to worry about completing the short-term task.”

Ling Tong felt compelled to ask, “So, what are you implying?”

Jiang Yu said, “With no time pressure and such a large team, is it possible that this task is impossible to complete in the short term?”

Everyone had entertained this thought, but few had dared to say it out loud. Lingering in the mission world for too long was a bad idea.

After all, it was only the first day, and six people had already perished.

Shen Zhu said, “So, our priority for now is to protect ourselves, be as vigilant as possible, and evade any threats that may arise from any potential coincidences.”

“Coincidences are not as simple as they seem. I propose we review the details of the incident to see if we’ve activated some kind of death rule,” Di Ying suggested.

They knew from experience that setting off some sort of death trap would result in casualties. Everything had a logic to it, otherwise, they would have been doomed.

Despite having heard the story before, they still planned to examine the incident thoroughly once more.

Jiang Yu, on the other hand, kept quiet, merely sitting and listening attentively.

“It’s pointless.”

As they scrutinised the written version in front of them, everyone was trying to find clues, but Jiang Yu shook his head and repeated, “It’s pointless. Can’t you see?”

Not bothering to wait for their reactions, Jiang Yu went on, “Everything, from the patterns we’ve uncovered to the escapes we’ve devised, is slowly losing its effectiveness.”

This revelation was more startling than anything else. 

Ling Tong asked, “What are you implying?”

Lin Chu mimicked the same shocked look as the others, but inside, she felt no surprise.

It appeared that she was not the only one who had noticed it.

When she returned from her previous task and diligently compiled all the tasks posted on the website once again, she couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of coldness as she read through them.

The number of tasks had spiked again in just half a month, with nearly a thousand new users joining, but the active users had dwindled drastically. And in the recent tasks, there was hardly any pattern to decipher.

It meant that deadlocks were becoming more common.

Maybe more and more task-takers were meeting their end, and they had no chance to share their task progress.

Lin Chu forced a smile. Who could tell if this time it wouldn’t be a deadlock?

Jiang Yu’s verdict chilled everyone to the bone.

“So, are we…” one of them whispered.

Are we doomed?

**

A bus was winding its way through the hills and woods, with only two people on board.

One driver and one passenger. The passenger by the door rolled down the window, admiring the view outside, making small talk with the driver now and then.

“That town, it’s no place for ordinary folk to linger.”

The bus came to a halt before a tunnel, and the driver warned, “Young man, if you’re looking for someone, make it quick and get back.”

Lu Yan thanked him politely and asked, “Could you tell me why?”

The driver shook his head, “That’s not something I can share, talking about it would invite trouble.”

As Lu Yan got off the bus and stood by the door, the driver pushed a button, and the doors shut.

Lu Yan turned around and headed for the tunnel.

The driver drove away, feeling a nagging sense of unease.

“Strange… Why does the name Lu Yan sound familiar?” The driver racked his brain, but couldn’t remember.

No, he had definitely met this person before! But where?

Why did he have a vague recollection of him, yet couldn’t place him?

Where had they crossed paths?

Fleeting images of the figure wielding an axe and swinging it down flashed in his mind, and the driver rubbed his head.

In his mind, that figure grew closer and clearer with every second.

He witnessed the other person’s gruesome actions of butchering a human being, chopping and chopping, blood spattering everywhere. The other person had a serene expression, as if performing a mundane task.

The visions in his mind grew sharper by the minute.

The driver’s eyes slowly widened in horror.

At last, he saw the full picture: the man was hacking the driver’s body to pieces! Over and over, reducing the already mutilated corpse to smaller chunks.

And there was his own head, lying nearby, eyes still open, unyielding in death.

The driver was paralysed with terror, his soul leaving his body. He accidentally caught a glimpse of the rearview mirror and was rooted to the spot.

In the mirror, he saw his own reflection, eyes bulging, face ashen, exactly like the severed head he had seen in the vision!

As soon as he realised this, his body was seized with excruciating pain. He looked down, and his body suddenly split open…

Lu Yan had barely walked a few steps when a deafening noise resounded behind him at the entrance of the dark tunnel.

He turned around and saw the bus swerve off the faraway roadside and slam into a tree.

Before he could react, the vehicle exploded with a massive blast, flames soaring up several metres high, instantly setting the nearby trees ablaze, heat surging towards him.

There was no turning back now.

Lu Yan gave one last look at the burning bus before turning and entering the tunnel.

As if swallowed by a monstrous beast, the tunnel engulfed him in its gloomy, damp maw, where soft, wet earth squelched beneath his feet. The faint cacophony of the outside world, faded into silence as he ventured deeper into the abyss. He craned his neck to look forward, but no glimmer of light pierced the pitch-blackness that loomed over him.

A shiver ran down his spine. The tunnel was eerily quiet, a soundless void that enveloped him in darkness. 

Lu Yan clung to the inner wall as he crept forward, his heart pounding in his chest. He could smell the musty stench of moss that clung to the nearby wall, a sign of the dampness that pervaded the air. He could hear the faint, unknown skittering of insects that scurried along the wall, their tiny legs brushing against the rough surface. And then, his own soft footsteps, the only human sound in this desolate tunnel.

How long was this tunnel? Why did it seem to have no end? How much time had elapsed since he entered this hellish place?

Lu Yan knew he could easily take out his phone and check, but something deep inside him told him not to. In this tunnel, it was best to pretend to be blind and deaf, to ignore the horrors that lurked in the shadows. To hope for a way out.

He walked for what felt like an eternity, losing all sense of direction and time. He almost lost himself in the darkness, his mind wandering to the point of madness. When a faint light suddenly appeared ahead, he thought it was a hallucination, a cruel trick of his mind.

But it wasn’t a hallucination. It was real. The light was about two hundred metres away from him. He was nearing the exit.

Lu Yan quickened his pace towards the light. He was almost there. He was going to make it.

Outside the tunnel, the evening had fallen. The moon in the mountains shone with an exceptional brightness, casting a radiant silver light that bathed the surroundings in a soft glow. It was a stark contrast to the darkness he had just escaped from.

Lu Yan emerged from the tunnel and beheld the scene before him.

A small cabin stood by the road, its windows dimly lit by a flickering lamp. Two men, who had been taking turns on night duty, sprang to their feet as soon as they caught sight of a young man stepping out of the tunnel. They hurried out to meet him, their faces tense and alert.

“Who are you? Are you from the town?” the shorter one asked cautiously, his voice low and wary.

They noticed his dishevelled appearance, his clothes torn and stained by explosions, his face bruised and scratched. 

Lu Yan also scanned the two men with a practised eye. He had encountered taskers like them many times before, and he could easily tell them apart from the local residents. He could even estimate how many missions they had been on. They were not seasoned veterans, but they were not rookies either. 

He knew that his current appearance might arouse their suspicion, so he smiled gently and said, “I’m here for sightseeing. And what about you?”

The two men exchanged a quick glance, then plastered friendly smiles on their faces. One of them extended his hand, saying, “Sightseeing? You must have a keen sense of adventure to find this place. By the way, I’m Wang Shun De (王顺德). And you?”

(王 (Wáng) is a surname that means “king” or “monarch”. 顺 (Shùn) is a unisex given name that means “smooth” or “obedient”. 德 (Dé) is a unisex given name that means “virtue” or “morality”. 王顺德 could be interpreted as “a virtuous king” or “an obedient moralist”)

“I’m Lu Yan, you can call me whatever you like,” Lu Yan replied with a mild smile, taking his hand.

At the sound of this name, the two operatives felt a jolt of adrenaline coursing through their veins.

Lu Yan! Wasn’t he the one they were hunting?

They could barely contain their excitement for a moment. One of them almost leaped up, but Wang Shun De quickly held him back and warmly invited Lu Yan inside.

They knew that someone who prompts so many pursuers must be formidable. It was better not to make any rash moves.

By a stroke of luck, or perhaps fate, an axe lay in the room.

“It’s quite late now, still a few hours until dawn. Why don’t you rest here in this room? We’ll head to town together when it’s light,” Wang Shun De said earnestly, his eyes gleaming with a hidden agenda. “We’re here to guard the forest against wildfires. Someone will take over in the early morning. If you don’t mind, that is.”

The room was cramped and modest, consisting of two rooms with a bathroom. They had each claimed a room for themselves, but now that Lu Yan had arrived, the shorter man graciously offered his room to him.

They both wished Lu Yan would drift off to sleep soon, so they could strike. Without wasting any time, they urged him to eat something and freshen up, then snuffed out the lights in the room.

“When do you think he’ll fall asleep? When should we make our move?” The shorter man whispered as they lay side by side, his heart racing with anticipation.

He had thought it would be a long and arduous task, after hearing the bosses’ plans during the day. But who would have expected, not long after, that Lu Yan would walk right into their trap?

He was eager to end his life and return to his own world. He had had enough of this!

Wang Shun De whispered to him, “No need to rush, let’s wait a little longer. We’ll sort it out after he’s dozed off.”

They lamented their lack of drugs; otherwise, it would have been perfect if they could slip something into his food and drink.

After waiting for over two hours, assuming that he had fallen into a deep slumber, the two stealthily got up.

Wang Shun De grabbed the axe from the wall, and the short man likewise snatched a thick wooden stick from behind the door.

“Let’s go.”

On the other side, the door to the room was slightly ajar.

The wooden cabin, long neglected, had doors in both rooms that couldn’t be securely locked. A gust of wind could easily blow into the room, making the wooden doors rattle.

He pushed the door open, bathed in the moonlight, and saw the shape of a blanket heaped on the bed.

Was he sleeping under the covers?

Wang Shun De tiptoed towards the bedside, barely making a sound.

He lifted the axe high and brought it down with force!

The bed was cleaved in half, but the expected scene of blood spattering did not occur. All he had cut was the quilt on the bed.

“How can this be? Where is he?!” Wang Shun De flung the quilt aside.

The duvet was the only thing left on the bed; the figure had disappeared.

“What the hell? Wasn’t he asleep??” Wang Shun De hissed, disbelief and fear mingling in his voice.

The short man beside him scanned the room frantically, searching for any sign of their target.

A young man’s voice broke the silence from the doorway. “Are you looking for me?”

He leaned casually against the doorframe, a friendly smile playing on his lips. He was slender and wiry, with no obvious muscles or weapons, but Wang Shun De and his companion felt a chill run down their spines as they sensed the lethal threat he posed.

“Y-you…” Wang Shun De stammered, trying to fabricate an excuse to weasel out, but Lu Yan quickly slammed the door behind him, smiling as he closed the gap between them.

The door shut, leaving only a few slivers of moonlight filtering through the window. Lu Yan moved forward, dodging when the other attacked him. He flicked his wrist, and a dagger flashed in his hand. With a speed that defied belief, he pressed the blade against the man’s neck from behind, swiftly knocking him out, then faced the other.

“Don’t come any closer!”

☆ 95

With a casual flick of his wrist, Lu Yan flung the unconscious body to the dusty floor and advanced steadily towards his remaining adversary.

“Stay back!” Wang Shun De shrieked, his voice cracking with terror. 

A cold sweat broke out on his forehead as he trembled uncontrollably, clutching the axe in his sweaty palms. He felt no reassurance from the weapon, only dread.

The man who approached him radiated a menacing aura that chilled him to the bone.

“I swear, I’ll kill you if you come any closer! Don’t you dare!” Wang Shun De brandished the axe wildly, hoping to scare off his attacker, but his panic-stricken face betrayed his lack of confidence.

Lu Yan merely arched an eyebrow, ignoring the feeble threat, and closed the distance between them with measured steps.

He had snatched the wooden stick from the limp hand of his previous victim, and he used it to his advantage. As Wang Shun De let out a desperate scream and swung the axe down with all his might, Lu Yan darted forward and slammed the stick against his arm with a sickening crack.

The axe slipped from Wang Shun De’s grasp, landing with a thud on the ground, where Lu Yan swiftly kicked it away.

“Now, can we have a little chat? Why were you trying to kill me?” Lu Yan discarded the stick as well, finding it cumbersome, and pressed his hand firmly on Wang Shun De’s shoulder, pinning him down. He asked the question softly, but his tone was anything but gentle.

Amusement was the last thing that flickered in his eyes.

To Wang Shun De, this young man who called himself Lu Yan was no different from a fierce ghost, more savage and dreadful than any of the spirits he had faced before.

“No, no, you’ve got it wrong, I was just…” Wang Shun De stammered, trying to conceal his true purpose.

Lu Yan, the young man, flashed another smile, his eyes piercing, his voice laced with a peculiar charm. “Don’t be scared, calm down… Tell me, what made you want to kill me?”

Wang Shun De’s eyes glazed over. “Because… because of the mission…”

“What mission?”

“To… to find the missing person… and then… kill a man named Lu Yan…”

Lu Yan felt a heavy thud in his chest.

If the previous assignment of retrieving the Pisces jade pendant could be rationalised as recovering a vital artefact, then what about this one?

That thing that lurked behind him, it had finally fixed its gaze on him.

He probed further, extracting more details from the other, then casually knocked him out, leaving him sprawled on the ground next to his companion. He shut his eyes for a moment, as if to block out the sight.

Soon after, he stepped out of the small hut, clutching an axe that dripped blood, leaving crimson stains on the soil.

He had to go into hiding for a while, at least until he shook off the dozens of taskers. Otherwise, if these two died and he showed up, it would arouse suspicion from any angle.

The townsfolk were not entirely reliable either, and he could not rule out the possibility that the taskers would coax them into divulging his location.

However, he had no choice but to stay here, considering the hints left by his future self and the threat posed by the little girl in clown clothes.

Under the moonlight, he discerned the direction and followed one of the forks in the road, vanishing into the darkness at the end of the alley.

**

It was a bleak and dreary morning when Yan Hao Yue (严皓月) along a novice tasker to the police station to reclaim a body. 

(严 (Yán) is a surname that means “strict” or “severe”. 皓 (Hào) is a unisex given name that means “bright” or “luminous”. 月 (Yuè) is a unisex given name that means “moon” or “month”.

Therefore, 严皓月 could be interpreted as “a strict month’s brightness” or “a severe luminous moon”.)

The morgue lay beneath the police station. Once they had sorted out the paperwork, a policeman guided them down the stairs.

The passage that led to the morgue’s entrance was shrouded in shadows, the flickering lights barely illuminating the way. The passage exuded an aura of decay and desolation, its white walls stained with the traces of time and neglect.

The officer, who looked barely out of his teens, cast an apologetic glance at his companions. “Sorry about this. The lights here are always on the fritz, and we never get around to fixing them. You should hear the stories they tell about this place at night. It’s enough to give you nightmares.”

They arrived at the elevator, which looked as ancient and dilapidated as the rest of the building. The officer pressed the button, which had long ago lost its colour and shine. They waited for what seemed like an eternity, until the elevator finally creaked its way up and stopped in front of them with a metallic clang.

A blast of cold air greeted them as the doors slid open.

Yan Hao Yue felt a sudden jolt of alarm. She fixed her gaze on the dark and narrow elevator shaft, sensing a powerful force that repelled her from entering.

Anxiety, dread…

As if something malevolent lurked within the elevator.

But the elevator was empty, and there was nothing to see. 

The others stepped in without hesitation, and one of the rookies, a young man named Li Ye (李业), looked at her with curiosity. “Aren’t you coming in, Sister Yan?”

(李 (Lǐ) is the most common surname in China that means “plum” or “reason”. 业 (Yè) is a unisex given name that means “business” or “profession”. 李业 could be interpreted as “a plum business” or “a reasonable profession”.)

Yan Hao Yue was about to follow them, when a wave of panic washed over her. She knew with absolute certainty that if she set foot in the elevator, she would meet her end!

Yan Hao Yue chose to listen to her intuition. She swiftly retreated a few steps and said, “I’m sorry, I have claustrophobia. I can’t take the elevator.”

The officer was taken aback by this excuse. “Oh,” he said, before Yan Hao Yue composed herself and asked softly, “Could we take the stairs instead?”

A shiver ran through the two newcomers as they felt a subtle shift in the air, a hint of something unnatural and sinister. Perhaps they had also detected the eerie presence in the elevator, for they wasted no time in following Sister Yan out, urging each other.

“Yes, let’s take the stairs down.” Wang Ke (王珂) chimed. 

(王 (Wáng) is the second most common surname in China that means “king” or “monarch”. 珂 (Kē) is a female given name that means “jade” or “ornament”. 王珂 could be interpreted as “a king’s jade” or “a monarch’s ornament”.)

“Yeah, it’s only three floors, hardly a bother.” Agreed Li Ye.

The young policeman gave a sheepish grin, “Alright, but I should warn you, the stairs are seldom used, so they might be a bit dusty.”

“It’s alright, we don’t mind.” Yan Hao Yue replied softly.

The young policeman nodded and led them away from the elevator, towards the stairwell with the four of them in tow.

They had barely covered ten metres when the elevator doors slid shut behind them with a faint click.

Then, the numbers on the display panel above the elevator began to descend slowly.

1, -1, -2, -3.

The elevator came to a halt on the negative third floor, as if someone had stepped out.

But the elevator was empty.

Completely empty.

Even though they had put some distance between themselves and the elevator, Yan Hao Yue’s fear did not abate in the slightest. The sense of looming danger grew stronger, making her feel more and more restless.

What was it?

What was coming for her?

Yan Hao Yue had no idea, but her already pallid face turned even whiter, her eyes darting around nervously, ready to bolt at the slightest provocation.

A layer of grime coated the corridor, as if no one had bothered to clean it for ages. The stairs leading down to the basement were shrouded in darkness, the motion-sensor lights having given up long ago.

The young constable turned on his phone flashlight, guiding the way and explaining, “There are three basement levels in this building. The first one is miscellaneous storage where we dump all the stuff we don’t need, the second one is the parking lot, and the third one is the morgue. It’s going to get pretty cold down there, so be careful not to catch a cold.”

Yan Hao Yue nodded slightly, murmuring her assent. Behind her, two rookies followed suit, parroting her words like scared birds.

As they descended lower and lower, the gloom deepened, the dust thickened, and the silence wrapped around them like a suffocating blanket.

Slowly, they began to sense the cold seeping up from below.

Yan Hao Yue held her breath unconsciously, shrinking her presence, trailing behind the policeman in silence.

“Here we are,” he declared.

Above the stairwell, a white wall displayed a bright red “-3,” and the young constable rummaged through a large bunch of keys, unlocking the door below.

The door creaked open, and a blast of icy air hit them like a punch.

Yan Hao Yue shuddered, and caught the two newcomers doing the same.

“Come on, folks. Let’s get this over with,” the young constable encouraged, then switched on the lights. The morgue lit up in an instant, revealing its grim contents.

“Just give me a second, I’ll have a look around,” he said, stepping inside. 

The others retreated instinctively, avoiding the cold as much as possible.

Before he entered, Yan Hao Yue heard the young constable whisper to himself, “Weird, it’s never been this cold before…”

Yan Hao Yue felt a sudden drop in her stomach.

Something was definitely wrong with this place!

The morgue was a place of dread and horror, a fitting setting for the dark secrets of this town. 

She gripped her phone in her hand, ready to contact Shen Zhu at the slightest sign of trouble. They had agreed on a plan: as soon as they verified the identity of the body and any evidence of foul play, she would send her a message.

“Found it!” the voice of the young officer echoed from inside. “Come on, you lot.”

The three others who had been waiting at the doorway followed him into the dimly lit interior.

“All the corpses from yesterday’s incidents are here, waiting for the autopsy,” he explained, opening a freezer door with a loud clang. He gestured to the drawer he had just revealed. “See if this is the one you’re looking for.”

Yan Hao Yue felt a knot of anxiety in her stomach as she approached the freezer. She had braced herself for the worst, but… nothing happened.

No sudden attacks, no undead horrors. She reached the drawer safely and peered inside.

A young girl lay motionless on a metal slab, her skin a sickly blue hue. Her eyes were wide open, staring blankly at the ceiling. Her mouth was open too, as if she had been screaming in vain until her last breath.

Yan Hao Yue noticed the dark marks around her neck.

She hesitated for a moment, then pulled the white cloth that covered the girl’s body a little lower, exposing the full extent of the injuries on her neck.

They were unmistakable traces of fingers.

Yan Hao Yue’s heart skipped a beat, and she quickly snapped two photos and sent them to Shen Zhu. She had found what they were looking for.

But then, she heard a strange noise coming from the freezer next to her. It was barely audible, but it chilled her to the bone.

“Did you hear that?” she asked, her voice trembling.

The young officer looked at her, puzzled. “Hear what?”

“I don’t know… but there’s something weird coming from here.” Yan Hao Yue pointed to the freezer behind her, her face turning ashen.

As the young police officer turned his head away, oblivious to the ominous sound that echoed through the morgue, Yan Hao Yue felt a surge of anxiety wash over her. She stood frozen in place, her eyes darting around the dimly lit room, searching for the source of the noise.

It was getting louder and louder, like a scraping of metal on metal, or a clawing of nails on flesh. It sent shivers down her spine, making her scalp prickle with dread.

“Did you not hear that?” she whispered to herself, hoping that someone else would share her unease.

“What did you say?” Wang Ke, the other newcomer, asked, looking at her curiously.

Li Ye, who had been silent until then, suddenly let out a low chuckle. “Oh, I heard it,” he said, stretching out his hand and running his fingers along the edge of the open freezer in front of him. “Is this the sound you mean?”

Yan Hao Yue nodded, but then a horrible realisation dawned on her. She recoiled in fear, her body jerking backwards. “You… who are you?”

She remembered something that she had overlooked before, something that could cost her her life.

When they had arrived, she had refused to take the elevator, insisting on taking the stairs instead. Li Ye had agreed with her, saying that there were only three floors to go down.

But how did he know that? The police officer had not given them any information about the morgue yet. How did he know that it was on the third basement floor?

And wait a minute! She had only brought one newcomer with her, Wang Ke. 

But there was no Li Ye in their group! There was no one with that name among the task performers!

Li Ye was not human! He was a ghost!

Yan Hao Yue’s memory came flooding back, and she felt a wave of terror engulf her. She stumbled backwards, hitting the metal wall of the open drawer behind her.

Li Ye did not seem to notice her panic, or he did not care. He kept scratching the freezer with his hand, making the dreadful sound louder and louder. “You know, when you lie down for too long, you get restless. You need to stretch a bit, move around.”

As he spoke, a scream of shock came from the other side of the room. “What the hell? One of the corpses is gone… Aaargh!”

A dull thump reverberated through the air, followed by a piercing scream from the young constable. The sound of flesh being dragged across the floor and the relentless wails of agony from the policeman filled Yan Hao Yue’s ears.

“God, what’s happening to him?” Wang Ke’s voice trembled with fear and confusion. 

He stood behind Li Ye, unable to see anything beyond her head. He was about to sep forward, when a drawer beside him that had been firmly shut suddenly cracked open, revealing a pallid and twisted arm that stretched out. It clamped onto Wang Ke’s neck with a vice-like grip, and yanked him into the freezer with a violent tug before he could even let out a cry.

The drawer snapped shut with a click.

Now, Yan Hao Yue was alone.

She stood rooted to the spot, her legs urging her to run, but a surge of coldness swept over her entire body in an instant, paralysing her with terror.

With a loud bang, the freezer door slammed shut, and the sounds of struggle and pleas for help from the young constable abruptly were cut off, plunging the room into silence.

Only the pounding of Yan Hao Yue’s heart thundered in her chest.

The “newcomer” moved closer and closer. As he approached, his face turned a sickly blue, slowly rotting away. Yan Hao Yue could smell the foul stench of decay wafting from him.

The morgue door crashed shut with a bang.

It was said that if the bodies in the morgue lay for too long, they might move…

**

Lin Chu was definitely up to something.

Shen Zhu glanced at her phone, keeping her cool, and made some small talk with the others before swiftly walking out.

Lin Chu had left early in the morning, but Shen Zhu had no idea where she had gone. She looked around and saw no one, then dialled Yan Hao Yue’s number.

“Hello, Little Yue?”

There was a long pause before she answered, and Yan Hao Yue’s voice sounded faint and distant: “Hello?”

Shen Zhu felt a jolt of fear in her chest.

They had a secret code, a safeguard against danger, and they never failed to use it when they met. Yan Hao Yue was meticulous and cautious, not one to make mistakes. So why was she breaking their protocol now?

“Where are you now?”

A brief silence followed, then a faint voice reached her ear, “I’m in a… very…” The connection was poor, distorted by crackles and hisses that sounded like electric sparks. She tried to catch the words, but they were muffled and garbled, so she turned up the volume.

“What did you say? Where are you?”

“I’m… in a… “

Was it a bad signal? Shen Zhu, inexplicably, dismissed the oddity and urged Yan Hao Yue to repeat herself several times. The voice on the other end gradually grew clearer.

“I’m in a… very… very cold place… I’m at the police station, will you come?”

Shen Zhu replied, “Should I come to pick you up?”

“Yes… You must come…” Yan Hao Yue sounded delighted; Shen Zhu could hear her giggling over the phone.

Shen Zhu was about to say more when a figure dashed into the yard. His name was Zeng Li Hong (曾黎鸿). He was not very experienced, but he had been around longer than most. 

(曾 (Zēng) is a surname that means “once” or “formerly”. 黎 (Lí) is a unisex given name that means “black” or “dawn”. 鸿 (Hóng) is a male given name that means “swan” or “grand”. 曾黎鸿 could be interpreted as “a former blackness” or “a dawn of grandeur”.)

His face was pale and panicked as he ran over, ignoring that Shen Zhu was still on the phone. He blurted out, “Shen Zhu, both of the people who were on night duty at the tunnel entrance yesterday are dead!”

“What?!” Shen Zhu gasped. She quickly told Yan Hao Yue she’ll come to her as soon as possible, and gestured for him to come closer. “Explain clearly, what happened?”

Zeng Li Hong and another person were supposed to take over the shift, but when they arrived, they found a horrific scene. Those two… those two had met a gruesome end in the small wooden house, their faces contorted in terror. The wooden house was stained with blood, a sight too dreadful for Zeng Li Hong to ever want to remember.

“They’re both dead…” Shen Zhu whispered to herself.

Suddenly, a cold and creepy voice came from her phone, “I’m waiting for you here…”

“What?” Shen Zhu barely had time to comprehend, before the call ended.

Zeng Li Hong had heard that voice too, and he was equally stunned. He stuttered, “Wasn’t that Yan Hao Yue’s voice? When did she die?”

☆ 96

A jolt of shock ran through Shen Zhu as she lifted her head. “What did you say?!” 

She had been oblivious to Yan Hao Yue’s abnormal behaviour until Zeng Li Hong had pointed it out to her moments ago.

She had even… agreed to pick her up from the police station.

The thought made Shen Zhu shudder involuntarily.

She had just acquiesced to a ghost’s demand, ah! This was a grave taboo!

How could she get out of this?

Zeng Li Hong was equally petrified. The voice that had come from Yan Hao Yue’s phone was unmistakably that of a dead person. How could she not have heard it? 

“Shen Zhu, you…” he began, his voice trembling.

Shen Zhu cut him off with a fierce glare, her eyes flashing with danger. “Don’t tell anyone!” she hissed. “I’ll deal with it myself!”

Zeng Li Hong nodded frantically. “Okay, okay, I won’t say anything,” he assured her. 

He had a hunch that Shen Zhu was scheming to lure some unsuspecting people along with her. He had no intention of being one of them.

Shen Zhu pushed down the fear that threatened to overwhelm her and smiled thinly. “You better keep your word.”

Only when Zeng Li Hong swore on his life did Shen Zhu trust him.

The two made their way into the house together.

Not everyone had ventured out. Some people had stayed indoors early in the morning. When they heard the news that Zeng Li Hong brought, they were all stunned.

They didn’t entertain any other explanations; they simply assumed it was the work of ghosts. And when Zeng Li Hong recounted the horrifying scene, they grew even more fearful.

So many people had perished, yet they had not detected any pattern!

Lin Chu had also visited the scene.

After making some inquiries, she found out that there was only one entrance to the town. Hence, she decided to patrol the entrance from time to time, and if she ran into Lu Yan, she would warn him.

She believed that Lu Yan was threatening some sort of entity behind the scenes. If they got rid of him beforehand, this world might not produce another NPC like him again.

She felt no sorrow for the fallen taskers, only a cold detachment. She was willing to escort this group, hoping to find some clues in the bloody cabin.

The cabin was a gruesome sight, even for the seasoned taskers who had witnessed countless horrors. The stench of death and decay filled the air, mingling with the metallic tang of blood.

“The weapon was probably an axe, or something similar. A swift and precise strike to the head, no hesitation,” Tan Xu said, emerging from the crimson room which soaked the floor. He left behind a trail of bloody footprints as he walked. “I’m inclined to think this was done by a human, not a ghost.”

“A human?!” Xi Men Yuan’s brow furrowed. “Are you certain?”

Tan Xu nodded. “Yes, look at the blood spatter patterns. They’re not easy to decipher, but they suggest the killer was skilled, or at least careful. They avoided the spray of arterial blood, so they wouldn’t stain themselves too much. But this spot, here…” He pointed to a faint smear of blood on the wall, interrupted by a blank space. “The killer must have stood here when they delivered the blow.”

Xi Men Yuan sensed the gravity of the situation, and he had brought several experienced taskers with him for this reason.

“Yet, Wang Shun De showed no signs of resistance, and his limbs were loosely bound. Was he unconscious when they killed him?”

“The other victim had a bruise on the back of his head, probably knocked out by a blunt object. He couldn’t put up a fight. But what about Wang Shun De? Why didn’t he dodge or scream? Could he have been drugged?”

“And look at this bed, hacked in half, the quilt shredded and tossed aside. The cuts don’t match the ones on the bodies. The ones on the bed are jagged and uneven, as if the killer had lost control or vented their rage. The ones on the bodies are clean and sharp, as if the killer had a purpose.”

The taskers who had gone to check the other room came back with their findings.

“The bed in the other room shows clear signs of two people sleeping on it. The indentations on the sheet correspond to the height of the deceased.”

…

As they exchanged their observations, they gradually pieced together the truth.

Someone had arrived at the cabin, a mysterious stranger. The two taskers who had stayed behind had tried to kill him, ambushing him in the night. But they had failed, and paid with their lives.

“Who do you think this person is?” Xi Men Yuan asked in a low voice.

If they had really thought it was a ghost, they would have run away long ago. If it was an ordinary person, what kind of person would make them give up a room for him to rest, and then attempt to murder him in his sleep?

The answer was becoming clear.

“Be ready, Lu Yan is probably here already. We need to watch out for any strangers in town these days,” Xi Men Yuan concluded.

With a practised look of horror on her face, Lin Chu melted into the throng of onlookers. She had harboured some suspicions of her own, but… could it really be Lu Yan?

A wave of whispers swept through the crowd, betraying their collective astonishment at the revelation.

It was Xi Men Yuan who had verified it. He swiftly issued orders to his subordinates, who wasted no time in spreading the word. Within minutes, every participant received a message on their phone, alerting them of Lu Yan’s potential infiltration and advising them on how to deal with it: based on the evidence, the intruder was not here for any benevolent purpose. They should avoid any direct confrontation, pretend to be friendly, and discreetly call for backup as soon as possible.

After exhausting all the leads they could find, they finally contacted the police. As a group of officers arrived to remove the corpse, Tan Xu spoke up, “Considering the nature of this mission, Lu Yan may not be our main problem.”

Xi Men Yuan queried, “What makes you say that?”

“Assuming our conjecture is right, Lu Yan is still human, and he stands no chance against dozens of us. Then, the real trouble is either the missing person we can’t identify or Lu Yan is already dead!”

The mission had two objectives: to eliminate Lu Yan and to locate the missing person. They had no clue about the latter, and the former had just shown up. What if they succeeded in killing Lu Yan, but still failed to find the missing person? Would that mean the mission was incomplete, and they would be trapped here? And what if Lu Yan, after being killed, underwent some kind of transformation? That seemed very likely, given the circumstances.

Xi Men Yuan had evidently thought of this as well: “We can only caution everyone to act with prudence. Try to capture him alive, and wait until we discover the whereabouts of the missing residents before making any move.”

Lin Chu caught every word of their conversation and stole a glance at Xi Men Yuan.

She had to admit that he was a handsome man, with his short hair tied in a neat bun, giving him an air of artistic grace. It also made people tend to underestimate him.

Xi Men Yuan and Tan Xu were a famous duo. Many people credited Tan Xu for their achievements, but Lin Chu always sensed that Xi Men Yuan was not that simple.

He radiated a more menacing aura than Tan Xu!

As they were heading back, Lin Chu received a text message.

It was from Shen Zhu, who wanted to invite her and a few others to the police station for a closer look.

Lin Chu watched the police car disappear and contemplated for a moment before accepting.

There were plenty of files at the police station, so they might be able to uncover some clues.

Trailing behind the crowd, Yu Huai Yao had his eyes fixed on Lin Chu. His attention did not go unnoticed by many, some of whom speculated that the guy had a crush on the gal, but only she knew that was far from the truth.

He was on a quest of his own, seeking some elusive clues.

“Where are you off to?” Yu Huai Yao hastened his steps to match hers, falling into step beside Lin Chu. 

“Shen Zhu sent me a message, asking me to meet her at the police station.”

“Did you get one too?” 

Lin Chu’s brow furrowed. She paused for a moment, tapping out messages to several others, then scanned the replies that popped up on her screen, a slight frown marring her features.

The people she contacted were all newcomers, like herself, and most of them confirmed that they had also received Shen Zhu’s invitation.

How odd, why would she want newbies?

It made no sense, for the police station was a important place to gather information, and surely she would prefer to consult the more experienced ones.

Something was not right.

As this thought crossed her mind, Lin Chu felt a pang of regret for agreeing to Shen Zhu.

**

Meanwhile, Shen Zhu checked her phone and saw a message from Lin Chu, informing her that Lu Yan might have shown up, which lifted her spirits a bit.

Maybe… this task would not be so hard after all?

She had made a promise to “Yan Hao Yue” that she would pick her up today, within a span of a dozen hours.

Yes, maybe in that time, she would find Lu Yan.

With that hope, Shen Zhu pushed down the anxiety that gnawed at her heart and left in a hurry.

**

The town was neither big nor small, but it had its hidden corners. Lu Yan located a stream, rinsed off the blood that stained his axe, wrapped it with a strip of cloth, and slung it over his shoulder.

He made his way to a neighbourhood on the outskirts of the town, taking a different route.

He was short on time, and he had not done a thorough job of cleaning up. If those people were diligent enough, they might stumble upon some traces.

But it would be even better if they found nothing, for that would mean they posed little threat.

He chose an old-fashioned residential area, where the air was fresh and the elderly were plentiful. The whole neighbourhood was remarkably quiet, with barely a sound to be heard.

Lu Yan singled out a house that seemed vacant and picked the lock to get in.

He needed to rest, to recharge.

But… the tasks had become more and more chaotic lately, he used to have a vague sense of what they entailed, but lately there had been no feedback at all. He could not sleep peacefully, only setting a brief alarm for a few minutes, shutting his eyes to rest.

Just as he closed his eyes, a blood-red shadow was cast upon the glass window. It bore down on the man inside who had closed his eyes.

Lu Yan was wide awake.

No sooner had he shut his eyes than he felt a piercing stare on him!

His breath hitched.

What had he gotten himself into this time? Was there no way back?

The tricks that had worked before seemed useless now.

He feigned sleep, his eyes tightly shut, but he knew the gaze was still there, unrelenting.

The room turned frigid and all of a sudden, the window burst open with a violent gust of wind, crashing against the wall with a deafening bang.

Lu Yan did not flinch.

It was no use.

He could sense the source of the icy aura creeping towards him.

Nearer and nearer…

His breathing was calm, his heartbeat steady, but his skin, exposed outside his clothes, prickled with goosebumps from the cold.

The figure loomed over him.

He felt a surge of frost, a foul smell that could freeze his nostrils.

This was bad!

Lu Yan clenched his eyes, trying to stir his nerves, hoping to get up and run, but he was powerless as if he was trapped in a solid block of ice.

Anyone who witnessed this scene from outside the room would be stunned by the horror.

A rotting figure in red, pressing against a man, about to fuse with his flesh.

A frigid numbness seeped into his bones, paralysing his limbs and leaving him helpless. Something sinister was crawling over him, pressing down on his chest with an invisible weight. He could only flutter his eyelids, the only sign of life in his frozen body. He felt a surge of terror, a primal instinct to flee from the unknown threat. He gathered all his willpower and forced his eyes open, hoping to confront his assailant—

But there was nothing there.

Only an empty room, with a gaping window that let in the biting wind. The oppressive feeling and the eerie presence vanished as soon as he looked around. It was as if he had imagined the whole thing, a nightmare that faded with the dawn.

He still felt no urge to sleep, but he closed his eyes anyway, hoping to calm his racing heart…

No! It was back again.

What was stalking him?

He had no choice but to open his eyes once more, and the moment he did, the sensation of being watched evaporated instantly.

He clutched the jade pendant in his hand. He got up and opened the door, stepping out into the silent hallway. The building was deserted, not a soul in sight. He walked slowly down the corridor, and only when he reached the ground floor did he hear some voices.

Someone was having a birthday party in the courtyard.

Why would anyone celebrate a birthday so early in the morning?

Lu Yan glanced over the fence.

The birthday girl was a young woman, dressed in a pink dress and a tiara. Several tables were arranged in the square, laden with food and drinks. A few friends surrounded her, singing and clapping. She made a brief wish and blew out the candles, then smiled and invited everyone to help themselves. It was a strange scene, incongruous with the gloomy atmosphere.

A pair of friends exchanged mischievous looks, snickering to themselves. They waited until the birthday girl was distracted, then one of them shoved the girl’s face into the thick layer of cream.

“Ah—”

Lu Yan, standing at the gate of the courtyard, heard the scream involuntarily.

The victim lifted her head, a bamboo skewer protruding from her eye, blood spilling out profusely.

☆ 97

The girl, who had a bamboo skewer protruding from her eye socket, clutched her face and sobbed, her tears mingling with the crimson fluid and heavy cream, while the others watched with amusement, their laughter ringing out loud. Soon, they resumed their festive mood, eager to dig into the cake.

“Hey, look at that. Is that the new neighbour?” one of them whispered to the birthday girl, nudging her elbow. “Should we ask them to join us for a slice?”

Lu Yan, who was passing by, tried to ignore them and keep walking, but a group of girls intercepted him.

“Hi there, are you new around here? Come on, have some cake.” One of them offered him a paper plate, on which lay a piece of cake slathered with white and red cream, looking sickeningly rich.

Lu Yan said nothing and shook his head, turning to leave, but they blocked his way again.

He looked back, and his eyes widened in horror. The girls’ faces had transformed in a blink, becoming deathly pale, with their pupils glowing a sickly green. Blood seeped from their bloated faces, forming fissures like broken pottery. One of the girls cocked her head, and it fell to the side of her shoulder, exposing a gruesome wound that almost severed her neck.

“W-why… aren’t you eating…” 

“D-don’t… go…” another one whimpered.

Lu Yan wanted to back away, but they had already encircled him.

“W-why… are you leaving… why… are you leaving… why… are you leaving?” they repeated, their voices sounding like warped records.

As the sun climbed higher, casting a cold light on them, Lu Yan noticed something even stranger: these creatures cast shadows in the sunlight. He steadied his nerves and listened intently, hearing their ragged breaths.

Were these things, human or ghosts?

Lu Yan stood frozen, as they drew nearer and nearer to him, so close that… one of them pressed her head against his shoulder.

He felt the thumping of her heart in her chest.

Lu Yan held his breath and closed his eyes.

The dreadful crimson figure loomed before him once more. Amidst the swirling darkness behind his eyelids, the blood-red silhouette crept closer and closer, until Lu Yan felt its putrid breath on his face, and a coldness that seeped into his bones, as if it came from the abyss.

Yet, unlike before, it seemed to have retreated a bit from him, only advancing when he closed his eyes.

Lu Yan snapped his eyes open, breaking the spell. The “girls” who had surrounded him moments ago were gone, leaving him a narrow escape. He seized the chance and ran out of the neighbourhood, not looking back.

He knew this method was too risky. He couldn’t be sure that the next time he closed his eyes, the figure wouldn’t pounce on him and tear him apart. He had to keep moving, keep alert.

Soon after he left, those girls materialised one by one, their spectral green eyes locked on his fleeing figure.

And behind them, a faint hint of red shadow lurked, watching and waiting.

A gust of wind swept through the neighbourhood, rattling the windows and doors of the abandoned houses, but no one came out to investigate. No one lived here anymore.

One window, worn out by years of neglect, had its latch blown off by the wind, and slammed against the wall with a loud bang. It revealed the interior of the house, which was empty and dusty, except for an ancestral hall with a black-and-white portrait of a young girl. She had the same face as the girl who had invited him to her birthday party downstairs.

The neighbourhood was eerily silent. Glancing through the windows of the buildings, none of them seemed occupied; instead, each one contained an ancestral hall, a portrait, a name.

Some people couldn’t afford burial plots, so they bought houses in remote suburbs to store their urns. 

Sometimes, when a neighbourhood is too quiet, it’s a bad sign.

Lu Yan made his way through the less crowded areas of the town, pulling his hood over his face to avoid attention. He avoided eye contact with anyone he met, and wandered aimlessly with the crowd.

Spirit Vale Town… Spirits…

Did spirit mediums really exist here?

Lu Yan didn’t believe it. But now, he wasn’t so sure. Everyone he saw seemed strange, almost unnatural. And the townspeople seemed to have a sixth sense for outsiders. Every time he passed by them, they stopped talking and stared at him with unsettling eyes.

**

“This town is really strange. Despite such a gruesome murder having occurred, it’s as if nothing happened at all. No one seems to even discuss it.” Jiang Yu said, as he headed towards the library in the town.

He had a plan: to scour the library for any local chronicles that might shed some light on the mystery, or failing that, to visit the museums and see what clues they might offer.

Behind him, several other taskers trailed along, among them Yu Huai Yao.

Yu Huai Yao had joined them later; he had been shadowing Lin Chu incessantly, much to her annoyance. She figured that since he had some background in archaeology, he could be useful in gathering information. So she persuaded him to abandon the idea of going to the police station and instead follow Jiang Yu’s lead.

Lin Chu, on the other hand, concocted a flimsy excuse to slip away from Shen Zhu and joined Di Ying’s team.

Di Ying headed to a different commercial street, one that backed onto a school. It was one of the most crowded areas in the town, but since it was still winter break, the campus was eerily quiet.

Lin Chu caught up with them as they were posing as a group of parents looking for schools for their children and asking around.

What struck her as even more ludicrous was that Di Ying and her team members each carried a stack of missing person posters, slapping them on every surface they could find.

The posters were woefully inadequate, containing only names, genders, and rough estimates of height and build based on Yi Zhen Zhen’s description.

“Sister Di, didn’t we agree in the meeting not to tip off the enemy?” Lin Chu cautioned her.

If Lu Yan happened to see all these posters, he would surely smell a rat.

Di Ying: “It’s fine, let’s just put them up.”

She stuck a piece of A4 paper with someone else’s name on it. By some twist of fate or design, Lin Chu’s phone number was on it.

**

Meanwhile, Shen Zhu grew restless, aware that darkness would soon fall if they kept dawdling. She finally summoned her courage and led a few people to the police station.

**

Lu Yan strolled along the path, occasionally catching the curious glances of people. He maintained his composure, even going so far as to advertise his own number.

He knew that these people all watched to catch him, and his biggest edge was that they had no idea what he looked like.

But…

Lu Yan made a daring move.

The world was experiencing another anomaly; normally, when the taskers entered, the world would revert to normal. But now… even though the task was still in progress, it felt no different from his everyday reality.

Lu Yan had no idea how it all started. A faint voice in his head whispered that it was his fault, but he refused to accept that. He was nothing but a normal person, after all.

What was wrong with this mission? What was the origin of the town’s strange phenomena?

And what had his future self gone through?

Lu Yan could still recall the wish he had made once, to live long enough to unravel all the mysteries. Had his future self lost his protection after finding out the truth, or was it because that truth was somehow linked to the elusive “gods”?

The thought sent a chill down his spine. He pulled his clothes tighter around his body and kept walking forward.

He heard a loud bang as he passed by a shop. He turned and saw a plastic mannequin lying on the ground, having fallen from the glass display window.

The shop assistant, who had been absorbed in her phone, jumped up and ran over to pick it up.

“Strange… I could have sworn this mannequin was wearing a red dress.” She muttered, puzzled, as she propped up the mannequin. She scanned the shop, feeling that something was amiss, but she couldn’t pinpoint what it was. She shrugged and returned to her phone, her mind wandering.

When she looked up again, she gasped. One of the mannequins in the window was gone.

Only the other one remained, standing still in its spot.

“Oh no! Someone must have nicked it!” She exclaimed, panicking. Then she slapped her forehead, remembering that there were CCTV cameras in the shop. She quickly went back to the computer to check the footage.

But… what she saw on the screen made her eyes widen in disbelief.

The mannequins in the window, which were clearly… clearly just dummies, were somehow moving, slowly walking out of the shop, one by one.

“No way, how is this possible…”

A surge of terror gripped the shop assistant’s heart, making her feel as if her soul was about to escape her body. In a panic, she let go of the mouse and tried to run away, but then she saw the mannequin’s eerie gesture. It was as if it had signalled something to her before it left.

With a shudder, she forced herself to sit back at the computer, her hands shaking uncontrollably. She reopened the image that had haunted her moments ago and zoomed in on it repeatedly.

It had to be a ghost… But what did the ghost want to tell her?

The image was still blurry, so she strained her eyes to see better. She noticed some dark shadows on the screen, which she attempted to wipe off with her hand, but to no avail. The screen was spotless and clear, with nothing on it.

The problem was not the screen, but her eyes. They felt itchy and irritated. The assistant did not pay much attention to it, rubbed her eyes, and resumed her inspection.

As the picture became larger, the movement of the mannequin grew more distinct. It looked like it was raising its hand, pointing to its own eyes.

Eyes? What was wrong with the eyes?

She rubbed her eyes again, hoping to clear her vision, but then she felt something odd in her eyes. She walked over to the large mirror in the shop, usually reserved for girls who wanted to apply makeup, and examined her eyes closely.

“Oh, it’s just a fallen eyelash, that’s all,” she muttered to herself, pulling apart her eyelids to locate the short eyelash and trying to rub it out.

She failed. No matter how hard she rubbed, it was useless. She only managed to pull out a tiny bit. The assistant reached out again, pinching with her fingernails carefully, and to her surprise, she caught hold of it, pulling it out slowly.

That was strange, wasn’t it supposed to be an eyelash?

Why… did it get longer the more she pulled?

This was not an eyelash! It was hair!

She kept pulling, and the thin black strand of hair got longer and longer…

No! What was this?!

She had already pulled out a hair that was over a metre long, but it still showed no sign of ending, and with every tug, more hair came out, longer and longer, as if feeding on her fear.

“No… please…”

The assistant was on the brink of tears, pulling frantically, oblivious to the fact that in the mirror, something was happening to her eyeball.

If one looked closely, they would see that there was a word on her eyeball.

**

Meanwhile, Lu Yan made his way to the town’s library.

He was unaware that not far behind him, a mannequin was following him closely.

But the mannequin’s eyes had been gouged out, leaving only two black holes.

☆ 98

A frigid sun cast its feeble rays over the town, offering no warmth or comfort, only a bone-chilling cold that made Lu Yan shiver involuntarily.

Lu Yan traversed the street that seemed to be the most desolate in the town, where many shops had closed their shutters and the pavement was barren. With each step he took, he encountered fewer and fewer passers-by. Many of them, upon meeting his gaze, hastily departed. Eventually, he found himself in complete solitude on the entire street.

How odd.

Lu Yan kept walking, his eyes scanning his surroundings for any clues or threats. His hand gripped the handle of his axe, which hung from his belt, ready to swing it out at the slightest provocation.

The sensation of being trailed lingered like a shadow.

Yet, no matter how scrupulously he scanned his surroundings, he could not detect the origin of the stare.

There was no one, absolutely no one, in sight. All the houses had their doors and windows locked and barred, as if they were hiding from a terrible danger. Who – or what – could be spying on him?

As he passed by a fashion store’s display window, the feeling of being watched intensified. He lowered his head slightly, hastening his pace, then abruptly spun around.

Nothing there.

A gust of wind swept a lone leaf across the street, leaving behind a barren scene, devoid of any trace of life.

He sharpened his mind, then spun around again.

But as soon as he did, a deafening explosion erupted, shattering all the windows on the street at once, sending glass shards flying in all directions, sparkling like rainbows under the sun.

Lu Yan reacted swiftly, dodging most of the projectiles, but still getting a small cut on his cheek. He ignored the pain, and focused on the shock that gripped his mind. There was no doubt now, something was following him!

Ever since he entered this town, that thing had been following him!

And yet, he still found nothing!

A flicker of red light darted past the corner of his eye, but when he turned to look, there was nothing there, as if it had been a figment of his imagination.

“Aaaah—”

At that instant, a shriek pierced the air from a nearby building.

Right after, a figure, mutilated and bloody, was hurled from a high place. Lu Yan swiftly sidestepped, and the corpse tumbled a few times, coming to a halt not far from him. Its pallid, bloated face, bulging eyes, gawked at Lu Yan without blinking.

Instinctively, he looked up and saw a red figure flash by, but when he tried to follow it with his eyes, it had vanished.

Another shriek, Lu Yan traced the sound and saw a window stained with blood.

He had to escape. Now.

He sprinted forward, not daring to glance behind him. He barely made it around the corner when a deafening blast shook the ground. The street he had just left was engulfed in flames.

A shadowy figure had slipped away moments before the explosion, casting a furtive look at the direction Lu Yan was heading.

The figure pressed a button, and another detonation rocked the air. The street Lu Yan was about to enter was also reduced to rubble. He skidded to a halt and veered into a narrow alley.

He didn’t stop until he emerged onto a new street, where the sound of the blasts was fainter. He kept running, but something was odd. All the glass shop windows on this street were smashed, leaving shards of glass strewn on both sides of the road. He had no choice but to run along the middle of the road.

He realised that something was manipulating his actions.

What was it? Why did it prevent him from going that way? And why did it destroy all the shop windows?

As he ran, Lu Yan racked his brain.

Glass shop windows… glass…

What could glass do?

The sunlight glinted off the glass shards, creating a blinding glare.

Reflection!

The thing that was chasing him seemed to be afraid of him seeing something in the window reflection! 

Lu Yan felt a surge of dread.

What could be seen? He knew the answer, but he didn’t want to admit it. Should he try?

As soon as this thought crossed his mind, he felt a wave of danger. He dashed across another street corner, where he saw a sign for a school zone and more people in sight.

But what stunned him the most was the face of one of the people, someone he knew very well.

Lin Chu?

She was here too?

He spotted a group of seven taskers, and his pace slowed down.

He had enough confidence to face these seven individuals, but he knew it would come at a cost. He would suffer wounds and pain, and in his vulnerable state, he could not afford to alert anyone else. His chances of success hinged on his stealth and cunning.

Lin Chu had spotted him, and she was not the only one.

“Who is this bloke? He looks out of place, not like a local.”

“Should we intercept him?”

Lin Chu took the lead. “I’ll do it.” She sprinted towards him with flyers in her hand, raising her voice and waving the papers as if to attract his attention. “Excuse me, sir, are you acquainted with someone named Lu Yan?”

She was exposing herself!

Why would she do that? Wasn’t she on a mission? Her objective was to kill him.

Di Ying’s face twisted into a scowl as she glared at Lin Chu with intense animosity, and the others quickly sensed the danger, wanting to silence her.

What if this was Lu Yan? Wouldn’t she be giving him a warning?

Lin Chu, with a radiant smile that matched her cheerful demeanour, closed the gap between them. “Sir, have you heard of him?”

As soon as Lu Yan met her gaze, he realised that she had no intention of, or perhaps no immediate plan to, carry out her assignment. He shook his head innocently. “No, I haven’t.”

“You haven’t? That’s a shame.” Lin Chu gazed at his face, a faint blush spreading on her cheeks. “By the way, sir, what is your name? Could I… could I have your contact details?”

Lin Chu felt a bit awkward to stare at him, adopting a timid posture.

What was she thinking? How could she still act so flirtatiously at a time like this?

Lu Yan smiled warmly, with a trace of apprehension on his face. “My family name is Jiang, and my given name is Bai. But I’m afraid I can’t share my contact details, I’m sorry.”

Lin Chu sighed, disappointment clear on her face. With her doll-like face and petite figure, looking up at the man, one could almost mistake it for a romantic encounter, if not for the dire situation.

Of course, the others couldn’t see it that way.

Di Ying was nearly enraged by Lin Chu, marching over with large strides and casting a wary glance at Lu Yan. “Mister Jiang Bai?”

(姜白: 姜 (Jiāng) is another common surname that means “ginger” or “bold”. 白 (Bái) is a unisex given name that means “white” or “pure”. 姜白 could be interpreted as “a ginger white” or “a bold purity”.)

Lin Chu’s shoulder was being squeezed so hard by the other woman that it hurt, tears filling her eyes. She whimpered softly in a slightly pained tone, only to be squeezed even harder by Di Ying, who clamped her shoulder blades firmly, trapping her in her grip.

With a friendly nod, Lu Yan tried to mask the pallor of his face after the exhausting run. He drew in a few ragged breaths and pointed over his shoulder, his voice tinged with urgency. “I don’t know what brought you here, but you should hurry and get out. There have been blasts ripping through the streets behind us.”

“Blasts? What blasts?” Di Ying asked, her brow furrowing.

Lu Yan shrugged. “I haven’t got a clue. I was just running some errands when the street erupted in flames and debris. It was a nightmare to escape.”

He looked like he had been through hell, his clothes torn and bloodied, his hair matted with sweat and dust. Yet, there was still a hint of charm in his features, enough to still make Lin Chu swoon.

Di Ying was not impressed, however. She scanned him from head to toe, her eyes narrowing at the sight of the axe strapped to his back. “Pardon my curiosity, but what exactly are you carrying…?”

Lu Yan answered with a guileless smile. “Just an axe. Is that a problem?”

He seemed like a harmless bystander, caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.

But his unnatural composure only raised Di Ying’s suspicions, but she still dismissed him with a wave of her hand.

Lu Yan exhaled softly, “Well, I’ll be on my way then. I don’t know who you’re looking for, but I suggest you leave as soon as possible. If this place goes up in smoke too, it’ll be a catastrophe.” With that, he turned around and walked away.

Lin Chu gazed after him with longing, her eyes shining with infatuation. Di Ying clenched her fist, and on a sudden impulse, she called out, “Jiang Bai?”

Lu Yan looked back, “What is it?”

Subconscious reactions were hard to fake, and Di Ying felt a twinge of doubt, but she couldn’t just attack him.

They had agreed before, if they ever ran into Lu Yan, they had to be careful. If they killed him without finding the missing person first, it could spell doom for them all.

“Nothing, just curious about your destination.”

Lu Yan: “I’m heading to the hospital.”

As soon as he departed, the others encircled Di Ying.

“He’s not right in the head, I tell you. If only Yi Zhen Zhen were still alive, she could recognize him.” Chen Hai Qing (陈海清), one of the taskers, remarked.

(陈 (Chén) is a common surname that means “exhibit” or “display”. 海 (Hǎi) is a masculine given name that means “sea” or “ocean”. 清 (Qīng) is a unisex given name that means “clear” or “pure”. 陈海清 could be interpreted as “a clear display of the sea” or “a pure oceanic exhibit”.)

Most of them had alienated Lin Chu. To be preoccupied with romance in such a perilous situation was utterly foolish.

Chen Hai Qing was especially disgusted by her, shooting her a venomous glare that made her cower, before resuming his speech. “Di Ying, you haven’t forgotten about the two corpses we found in the cabin this morning, have you? Tan Xu examined them and concluded that the murder weapon was most likely an axe or something similar.”

Di Ying nodded. “I remember.”

The mention of Yi Zhen Zhen triggered her alarm bells.

Lin Chu had been the last person to see her alive.

And now Lin Chu had made such a blunder again…

Without hesitation, Di Ying pointed an accusing finger at her. “She’s the traitor among us! We have to keep an eye on her at all times! We can’t let her sabotage our survival any further.”

“What?” Lin Chu gasped, but the others were not so gullible.

They had their own doubts about her. Di Ying’s words seemed to confirm their suspicions, and they disregarded her protests, binding her hands with a rope and assigning shifts to guard her.

Meanwhile, Lu Yan had not gone to the hospital as he claimed, but rather to the town library.

It was odd, ever since he entertained the notion that he could not see his own reflection, the explosions that had been hounding him ceased abruptly. The library was not his voluntary choice either; every time he attempted to veer off course, a small blast would deter him, forcing him to follow the path to the library.

It was as if a hunter had laid a snare and was herding the prey into it from all sides.

Who was the mysterious figure behind him, the one who had sent him on this perilous quest for hidden information in the library?

Lu Yan stepped into the dimly lit building, his eyes scanning the dusty shelves and the faded posters on the walls. 

The librarian, an old man with a wrinkled face and a drooping moustache, slouched in his chair by the window, barely glancing at the newcomer. He gestured vaguely with his hand, indicating that Lu Yan could enter without registering, then returned to his computer screen, where a crackling opera tune played from the speakers.

The library had been constructed with some care and elegance, and Lu Yan could sense its spaciousness and grandeur as he crossed the threshold. But there was also a feeling of decay and neglect, as if the place had been forgotten by time and people.

However…

Lu Yan approached the small window and tapped on the glass, hoping to get some guidance from the librarian. He asked politely where he could find the local chronicles, the records of the town’s history. But he received no answer, only silence.

The old man ignored him completely, resting his head on the table, his eyes closed and his ears filled with the opera music. 

Lu Yan sighed and decided to search for the books himself, wandering through the endless rows of bookshelves, looking for any signs or labels that could help him. 

Suddenly, his gaze sharpened.

He remembered!

After the last mission had ended in a bloody disaster, with all his taskers slaughtered, he had used the Pisces jade pendant to duplicate himself, to summon his future self from another timeline.

His future self had given him vital information, telling him to go to the Spirit Vale Town and to carry with him the pendant, he had also drawn a few numbers on his palm, a code that would lead him to the truth.

His future self must have implanted a psychological suggestion in his mind, making him forget the numbers until the right moment, until now, when he was standing in front of the bookshelves, staring at the alphanumeric codes that marked each section. He finally recalled the string of numbers that had been burned into his skin.

0-4-0-9…

He followed the code and located the corresponding book.

It was a very ordinary children’s picture book, with a colourful cover and a cheerful title. It seemed to tell the story of a king of a kingdom. 

With a flick of his wrist, Lu Yan opened the picture book, feeling his pupils shrink in shock.

He recognised that stroke… It was unmistakable. This picture book, it was his own creation!

Without hesitation, he spun around and headed to the door, making his way to the glass window of the administrator’s cabin. 

He knocked politely, “Excuse me, may I borrow this book?” He hoped to find out when this book was catalogued, pretending to be interested in borrowing it. That way, he could estimate the time period his future self had come from.

The old man remained motionless at the desk, his back turned to him, apparently unaware.

“Hello? Hello?” Lu Yan repeated his query, but received no answer. A dreadful suspicion crept into his mind.

He stretched out his hand and touched the old man’s shoulder.

The old man collapsed to the floor, his glasses sliding off, exposing his bulging eyes. His face was twisted with throbbing veins, a ghastly sight.

Lu Yan recalled, when he had entered moments ago, the old man had waved his hand with his back to him…

Was it really him waving?

This revelation sent a chill down his spine. Lu Yan composed himself, scanned the room, then pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The space for the old man to rest and work was cramped, a tiny room of five or six square metres, furnished with a bed and a set of tables. Normally, he could relax by opening the window and drawing the curtains. After Lu Yan entered, the already narrow space felt even more suffocating.

But he ignored that, instead, he searched on the computer using the book’s serial number.

He discovered the date the book was logged into the system.

January 20th.

January 20th, the exact date when this mission had begun.

Today was February 2nd. He had entered the Spirit Vale Town on February 1st, so why would his future self have drawn a book from the past?

He had hoped to find more useful information on the computer screen, but as his eyes scanned the monitor, he caught a fleeting glimpse of his own reflection… 

A crimson tide flooded his sight, obscuring everything else. Lu Yan jerked his head away, too terrified to look again. 

His heart hammered in his chest, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. 

What the hell was that?

The library lights flickered erratically, as if on the verge of a meltdown, and a faint electrical buzz filled the air. Lu Yan snatched a few books from the shelves and bolted out of the library, not daring to linger a second longer. 

He had barely made it to the street when a thunderous blast shook the ground behind him. 

**

“What’s going on? Why did it suddenly explode?”

Jiang Yu and his team had planned to visit the town library to search for clues, but their route was blocked by an earlier explosion on the street, forcing them to take a longer way around. They had no idea that as they rounded the corner and spotted the library sign, they would witness the building erupting in a fiery inferno right in front of their eyes. 

It was enough to make anyone paranoid. Was someone trying to kill them?

The library was full of paper books, and the explosion ignited them instantly, creating a massive bonfire. Luckily, there were no other structures nearby, or the whole street would have been consumed by the blaze. 

“It’s on fire! It exploded!” The residents screamed in panic. 

“Quick, call the fire brigade!”

Some people tried to get help, but they were told that there were too many explosions in town today, and the police were overwhelmed, so they had to fend for themselves. 

Jiang Yu gazed at the roaring flames, feeling a burning sensation not only in his eyes but also in his soul.

The library held the secrets they needed. But someone – or something – had obliterated it before they could reach it, leaving behind only ashes and rubble. A deliberate act of sabotage, or a ghost’s wrath?

Jiang Yu felt a surge of frustration and anger, his face darkening with displeasure. He scanned the surroundings, taking in the nearby shops and the locations of the corner cameras. He had to find out who was behind this. He turned to his companions and said, “Let’s go back.”

Zhang Yun (张云), a fellow tasker, looked puzzled. “Back? Don’t we need to check out other places?”

(张 (Zhāng) is a common surname that means “to spread” or “to open”. 云 (Yún) is a unisex given name that means “cloud” or “luck”. 张云 could be interpreted as “a spreading cloud” or “an open luck”.)

Jiang Yu shook his head. “No. We need to find an internet café now.”

He had to access a computer.

There were plenty of internet cafés in town, and the library had computers too. But now, they were nothing but useless metal. Jiang Yu wasted no time in locating an internet café, registering swiftly, and connecting to the internet. He hacked into the cameras he had spotted earlier, hoping to find some clues.

Soon, he retrieved the surveillance footage.

On the monitor, he saw a tall, thin young man walking out of the library, carrying an axe on his back. He had a cold, sinister expression on his face. A few minutes after he left, the library erupted in a fiery blast.

“This man is highly suspicious.” Jiang Yu’s eyes narrowed as he made his judgement.

He quickly sent the man’s image to every tasker who was still alive, warning them to be on their guard if they encountered him.

Not long after, he received a message from Di Ying.

Jiang Bai…

Was that his real name?

**

“Shen Zhu, why are we heading to the police station so late?” one of the taskers trailing behind Shen Zhu asked. “Shouldn’t we have gone earlier?”

A faint tremor ran through Shen Zhu’s body, but she quickly composed herself and said, “The authorities are withholding the information from us, so we have no choice but to seize it by force when the station is less crowded after the working hours. I’ve done some reconnaissance. There have been multiple explosions on the streets today, and most of the police are occupied with handling them. Only a handful are left behind. If we’re discreet, we might not even raise their suspicion.”

Her plan sounded reasonable indeed, and none of her companions voiced any objections.

Shen Zhu let out a silent sigh of relief.

She had no idea what awaited her at the police station. She had no doubt that Yan Hao Yue was dead. She had learned the hard way from countless missions in the past: ghosts born from those who perished during missions had no shred of sanity; they did not feel the same fear as when they were alive.

They were the embodiment of fear.

The sun had already sunk below the horizon.

In winter, the night arrived early, around four or five o’clock, and the darkness had swallowed everything in sight.

Shen Zhu stared at the police station’s gate, her eyes wide with terror.

She knew Yan Hao Yue was dead. She had received a call from beyond the grave, and she was trapped in a nightmare. But she refused to give up, refused to let her life end in vain.

Even if death was imminent, she had to fight back!

With a surge of resolve in her gaze, Shen Zhu contemplated their plan as the team stealthily made their way into the police station. 

“Now, we need to get to the archives as soon as possible. Once you locate the documents, don’t forget to inform the others and take photos for evidence,” Shen Zhu instructed them in a low voice. “We’re looking for anything related to recent disappearances, deaths, and the like. Capture every detail.”

As for Lu Yan, on the other hand, they faced a major drawback: they had no idea what their target looked like.

The taskers nodded in agreement and split up to cover more ground.

It didn’t take long for one of them to stumble upon the archives room.

Most of them had acquired some lock-picking skills after completing several tasks. They deftly unlocked the door and slipped inside.

“This place is overflowing with files. How are we supposed to find what we need in time?”

“Let’s sort them by date. It makes sense to start with the most recent ones, right? If we’re after missing persons, they shouldn’t be too hard to spot.”

“That sounds reasonable. It’s probably from this year or the last. The townsfolk wouldn’t be so agitated otherwise. They would have moved on by now. Let’s focus on this year’s files then.”

The others concurred with the suggestion, and the taskers swiftly gathered the archives from the last two years, laying them out on the table and scanning them for clues.

What they didn’t realise was that the door to the archives room had silently shut behind them, trapping them inside. But they were too engrossed in their search to notice.

“This town is bizarre.”

“And not just the missing persons cases. There are heaps of death cases too. A Spirit Vale Town… There’s something seriously wrong with it, don’t you think?”

…

The dossier revealed a slew of strange and gruesome cases that shocked them to the core. In their world, such horrors would have sparked a massive outcry and investigation. But the inhabitants of the Spirit Vale Town appeared to be immune to fear, carrying on with their lives as usual.

As they delved deeper into the files, the lights in the archive room started to dim and brighten, producing a soft humming noise.

A twisted black shape slowly took form.

☆ 99

A distorted silhouette lurked outside the door, its gaze fixed on the frantic group within.

“Listen up, everyone! We need to get out of here as soon as we finish checking!” 

After completing so many tasks, how could they not recognize the ominous signs that heralded a dreadful occurrence?

“Come on, faster!”

The folders rustled as several people hastened their movements. The one at the computer also quickened their typing, their fingers flying over the keys.

Faster…

Almost there!

A cold draft swept in, toppling a pile of dusty folders that had been stacked too high. They crashed to the floor with a loud bang, making everyone jump.

Shen Zhu, who was also holding a bunch of files, felt a surge of panic.

She was well aware that she was the most vulnerable among this group. Why had she agreed to a deal with a ghost? The thought gnawed at her, and her nerves were on edge. She whipped her head around, only to find that it was just some books that had fallen. She breathed a sigh of relief, returning her focus to the documents.

In the dim and flickering light, the photo on the file she was holding morphed into the face of Yan Hao Yue, who smiled at her wickedly.

“A crackle.”

The files slipped from Shen Zhu’s hands and landed on the ground, drawing everyone’s attention once more.

“Shen Zhu, what’s wrong?” 

Shen Zhu was aware that her actions had drawn attention. She quickly shook her head, trying to act casual. “It’s nothing, just slipped.” She lied, hoping that no one would notice her trembling hands. She stretched out on tiptoe, pretending to adjust the files, while hiding the photo that the wind threatened to expose.

The lights flickered above her, casting eerie shadows on the walls. 

“Hurry! Let’s go! We’ll come back later.” 

One of them was standing by the door, holding it open with his foot to prevent them from being locked in. He had barely yelled into the room when the lights went out completely, engulfing them in darkness.

No one argued with him. They all knew that he was right. They had to get out of here. Now. They ran towards the door. Shen Zhu followed them

Her head was throbbing, as if someone was hammering nails into her skull. She couldn’t think clearly. She couldn’t see clearly. 

Books crashed to the floor behind her, as if someone had pushed them off the shelves. The bookcase rattled, as if someone was shaking it violently. 

The man in front of her reached the door, and grabbed the hand of the person who was holding it open. “Quick! Hurry and run!” He yelled, pulling him out, yet he pulled out only the hand.

He felt something wet and slippery. He looked down, and saw blood. Blood that dripped from the severed arm that he was holding. Blood that splattered on the floor, forming a gruesome pattern. Blood that stained his clothes, his skin, his soul.

Before Shen Zhu could react, people in front of her were torn apart into a heap of limbs, spilling all over the floor.

Thick, warm blood splashed on her, soaking her from head to toe. Shen Zhu didn’t bother to wipe it off, she sprinted out the door.

Darkness engulfed the entire corridor, rendering it impossible to illuminate. Though it was only early evening, the night had fallen so swiftly and heavily that the faces of her companions were indistinguishable. The only signs of life were the fleeting shadows that darted across the walls and the clamour of footsteps.

“So, does this count as me visiting Yan Hao Yue at the police station?” 

She had surveyed the place in the daylight, when it had seemed like a straightforward corridor with a few turns. But now, it had transformed into a maze. Whichever direction she took, she encountered no boundaries. Shen Zhu felt a surge of panic; she attempted to compose herself, but her heart pounded faster and faster, threatening to burst out of her chest.

Something… was trailing her!

She was certain of it; it had to be Yan Hao Yue. She had vowed to come and find her; had Yan Hao Yue finally arrived to fulfil her promise?

Shen Zhu pursued the figure ahead, oblivious to the fact that the figure in front… was nothing but a shadow.

She chased after these phantoms, plunging deeper into the abyss.

As for whether this place was truly the police station, who could tell?

Why?

Why had she been running for so long and still not found a way out?

Where was the exit? Wait, who were these people ahead? Were they really the companions she had arrived with?

The thought barely crossed her mind when Shen Zhu felt a surge of dread; the shapes that loomed ahead of her took on a sinister aspect in her vision.

No matter how hard she squinted, they bore no resemblance to anyone she recognised.

What was she to do? Where was she even running to?

By her reckoning, she had run far enough to circle back to the police station and her home; yet she remained trapped…

What could she do? What was she meant to do?

If only she could calm down, she would realise that her mind was playing tricks on her at this moment. But the endless darkness had eroded her will, almost robbing her of her rationality. She blurted out, “Is that you, Hao Yue? I did come to look for you, truly. I haven’t broken my promise, can you please let me go?”

She had heard it countless times, from other taskers and from herself to the newcomers: ghosts have no feelings or reason; it’s futile for humans to bargain with them or appeal to their souls.

When faced with a ghost, the only option was to run! Run faster. That was the only hope of survival. Pleading for mercy, negotiating, or invoking past bonds were all in vain. Of course, if one could decipher the rules of the task, perhaps they could even fight back against the ghost.

Because tasks were not only for them; ghosts had their own tasks to complete.

But Shen Zhu was too terrified, and the pain in her head was too intense, to remember this iron rule. She kept on begging in the dark void.

“I really did come to find you, and now I want to go back. Please, stop chasing me, alright?”

She didn’t want to die; she wanted to live…

“I beg you!  Spare me, please. Spare me for the sake of our once good relationship.”

As soon as these words left her mouth, a light bulb hanging above the corridor flickered with electricity, then suddenly lit up.

As if by magic, the cold wind, the faint whispers, and the menacing shadows that had haunted her in the darkness all disappeared, leaving only the dim yellow light from an old bulb.

Shen Zhu’s eyes widened in disbelief. She stopped abruptly, aware that she was still in the centre of the corridor, where everyone else had vanished. The corridor, and the rooms on either side with their gaping doors, were deserted.

“Thank you, thank you, Hao Yue. I swear I’ll burn incense and offer paper money to you when I return. I’ll look after your family,” Shen Zhu muttered, not daring to waste another second, sprinting towards the exit.

Only when she emerged from the main entrance, enveloped in moonlight, did she feel a surge of relief.

She had made it out alive?

Had Yan Hao Yue shown her mercy?

**

“Are you certain she’s a traitor?” Fang Tu (方荼) seized Lin Chu’s hair, yanking it back harshly, watching Lin Chu cringe in agony, he caressed her face softly, “You’d better confess truthfully, or do you want me to make you talk?”

(方 (Fāng) is a common surname that means “square” or “direction”. 荼 (Tú) is a rare given name that means “bitter herb” or “bitterness”. 方荼 could be interpreted as “a bitter direction” or “a square herb”.)

His voice was gentle, but it sent a chill down the spines of the other operatives, who instinctively retreated a few paces from him.

Even those who had survived multiple missions had little sympathy for others, having killed a few themselves. But… cruel individuals like Fang Tu were uncommon. He seemed innately immune to fear, having been fascinated by blood, bones, and the like since childhood, but unable to pursue a medical career due to legal barriers, forcing him to conceal his hobbies.

Until he became a tasker.

Almost every time, he would use NPCs for live dissections, without any respect for human life. Once, he even drove a newcomer mad, and he didn’t care; to him, a crazed teammate was no different from an NPC, and he eliminated them without hesitation.

This was the message conveyed by a few of his surviving teammates. Most people were terrified of such a personality, but there were also some who thought they could exploit him for their own ends.

Like now, when interrogation was required, sending him in was the most appropriate option.

Bound and helpless, Lin Chu sat in the centre of the living room, her head shaking violently as tears streamed down her face. “I really don’t know, I’m not a traitor… What was I trying to do? Even if I couldn’t complete the task, I would still die…”

Her delicate features and fearful expression gave her the appearance of an innocent child, but her words fell on deaf ears.

Xi Men Yuan crossed his arms, his eyes piercing her with a cold stare. “Yes, what were you trying to do?”

“I was wrong, I really know I was wrong, I won’t even glance at those NPCs anymore… I just thought he was good-looking…” Lin Chu sobbed, her face drenched with tears.

“Hush, don’t make a noise.” Fang Tu’s voice was low and menacing, as he held a knife in his hand, the tip lightly brushing against Lin Chu’s cheek. The icy metal sent a shiver down her spine, locking her neck in place as she looked at him with terror.

“Even though you’re crying, why do I always feel like you’re lying to me?”

Lin Chu tried to suppress her fear, shrinking her neck back as much as she could. “I’m not… I’m begging you, I really am not…”

Yu Huai Yao couldn’t help but speak up, his voice breaking the tense silence. “I also don’t think it’s her, she has no reason to obstruct our mission.”

Fang Tu paused, turning around slowly, his eerie gaze scanning Yu Huai Yao from head to toe, as if calculating the best spot to plunge the knife.

“Yu Huai Yao, right? When we handle things, it’s best for you, a newcomer, to stay out of it.” Ling Tong pushed him away, his tone blunt and dismissive.

The two missioners followed his lead and grabbed Yu Huai Yao by the arms, trying to drag him away.

But Yu Huai Yao refused to leave, digging his heels into the ground. He was used to working on cultural relics, which required physical strength and stamina, so he was not easy to move. The two struggled to pull him away, as he resisted with all his might.

Yu Huai Yao pleaded for her life. “She didn’t betray anyone, she swore it. We all had the same task to complete, and if she failed, she would die anyway,” he said, trying to reason with them. “She was only a newcomer, naive and trusting, not a traitor. You can’t condemn her for a single mistake, can you?”

Fang Tu ignored his words, pulling Lin Chu closer to his chest. He buried his nose in her hair, inhaling her scent with a mock tenderness. “Newcomer, huh? That’s a nice way of putting it. And what are you to her, then?” he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Lin Chu sobbed uncontrollably, feeling his breath on her neck. She couldn’t understand why Yu Huai Yao was standing up for her. He had seen her hurt An Ru with his own eyes. What did he want from her?

Yu Huai Yao shook his head. “I have nothing to do with her. I just hate seeing you bully the weak.”

They looked like a pair of star-crossed lovers, torn apart by a cruel fate.

“Besides, how do you know that the man she stopped was Lu Yan? If you’re so suspicious of him, why don’t you just follow him and see for yourself? Why do you have to torture a girl?” he challenged them.

Xi Men Yuan scoffed. “Don’t worry, we’ve already sent some people after him. We’ll find out soon enough.” He glanced at Lin Chu, his eyes full of doubt. “But that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook, little missy.”

Lin Chu tried to act innocent, nodding her head frantically. “Yes, yes, yes, please go and check on him. I swear I didn’t do anything wrong. I’ll never be so stupid again.”

Jiang Yu, who had been silent until then, finally spoke. “That’s enough for today,” he said, sounding bored. “Lin Chu’s guilt is hard to prove, but so is her innocence. She’ll have to stay under our watch at all times, and never be alone.”

He didn’t bother to look at Lin Chu, as if she was beneath his notice. “Lin Chu, do you agree to this condition?”

Lin Chu nodded again, tears streaming down her face. “Okay, okay, okay, please don’t kill me. I beg you, please. I promise I’ll never be foolish again.”

Jiang Yu nodded back. “Fine. Fang Tu, let her go.”

Fang Tu’s eyes flashed with malice. He held Lin Chu’s gaze for a moment, then threw her to the ground. He put away his surgical knife, but not before giving her a wicked smile that made her blood run cold. He walked away, leaving her to whimper in fear.

Yu Huai Yao rushed over to untie her, and Lin Chu wiped away her tears, whispering her gratitude to him and Jiang Yu.

She still looked like a pitiful and fragile girl, one who could never harm a fly.

With a silent gaze, Jiang Yu followed as Yu Huai Yao and his companion receded. 

Suddenly, he raised his voice. “Wait, Mr. Yu Huai Yao, I have a question for you.”

Yu Huai Yao stopped and turned around.

“I’m curious about your profession. What do you do for a living?”

“I’m an archaeologist. I restore and preserve ancient artefacts.”

Jiang Yu nodded to show he understood and gestured for them to continue.

Lin Chu, feeling puzzled, noticed that although Jiang Yu spoke the fewest words among the group, he had the authority when he did speak. What was his secret?

After they left, Xi Men Yuan asked, “What did you notice?”

Jiang Yu replied, “That Lin Chu is more than meets the eye. In this mission, there are twenty-two newcomers, including retired soldiers, corporate executives, provincial-level athletes, and so on… Even that Yu Huai Yao who just spoke is an archaeologist. Each newcomer surpasses the calibre of the previous ones, as if they’ve been handpicked.”

He smirked. “So, do you think an ordinary girl prone to flights of fancy would be among them?”

Xi Men Yuan agreed with him, while Ling Tong commented, “Now, let’s see what she does.”

Lin Chu and Yu Huai Yao walked side by side in the courtyard, with Yu Huai Yao murmuring comforting words to her.

If it weren’t for their hidden motives, this scene would have been quite picturesque.

“So, you do know Lu Yan after all, don’t you?” Yu Huai Yao asked suddenly, suspicion evident in his voice.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the bug that Jiang Yu had given him earlier, hoping to capture any sound in the area.

Lin Chu saw the device and shook her head vigorously. “I truly don’t know him. And besides, he introduced himself as Jiang Bai, didn’t he? I mean… I suppose I was a bit foolish, but that’s hardly a crime, is it?”

Yu Huai Yao persisted, speaking earnestly. “But why would he come out of the library if he goes by Jiang Bai? He doesn’t seem like he belongs here at all,” he commented. “Listen, I’ve always been on your side, you know that. I would never do anything to harm you. So if there’s anything you can tell me, anything at all, to help us get out of this situation, please, I’m begging you, just say it, okay?”

Jiang Yu was sitting in the room, listening intently to the voices of a man and a woman through his earphones.

Lin Chu sounded exasperated. “How many times do I have to say it? I don’t know anything. Why are you all so convinced that I do? If I had any idea that he was Lu Yan, I would have wasted no time in killing him and completing the task ages ago.”

Yu Huai Yao sensed Lin Chu’s rising anger and tried to soothe her. They exchanged a few more words, then parted ways and returned to their respective rooms.

Lin Chu’s performance was impeccable, but… Jiang Yu still couldn’t shake off his distrust of her.

The moment he had laid eyes on her, Jiang Yu’s internal alarm bells had gone off. His intuition had told him that this was no ordinary person.

With a swift motion, Yu Huai Yao peeled off the bug that clung to his palm and tossed it onto the desk. It lay there, a tiny metallic speck, still transmitting his every sound and movement.

He had just followed Jiang Yu’s orders and tried to coax some answers out of Lin Chu, but he had also given her a subtle signal with his eyes: don’t say anything. He trusted that Lin Chu, with her sharp mind, would catch on to his silent plea.

He prayed that he hadn’t been too obvious.

Lin Chu, meanwhile, had retreated to her own room, shutting the door behind her with a soft click. She let out a muffled sob, her chest tight with anguish.

She shrugged off her coat and draped it over the edge of the bed. Through the bugs that Jiang Yu and Xi Men Yuan had planted on themselves, they could hear the faint sounds of clothes being shed, followed by the splash of water as she headed to the bathroom to wash up.

They didn’t notice anything amiss.

Lin Chu cast a wary glance at her coat on the bed, then crawled under the covers. She was well aware that when they had dragged her back earlier, they had slipped a bug onto her as well, but now… she had no choice but to act oblivious.

She was playing a dangerous game. She knew her actions would arouse suspicion, but it was a risk she had to take. To protect Lu Yan from being discovered too soon, she had to do this.

And the only reason Yu Huai Yao had gone along with her was because she had made a bold claim: she had poisoned him in the real world.

It was a preposterous lie, but given how she had used perfume to knock out An Ru before, Yu Huai Yao couldn’t afford to dismiss her.

The secret that Lu Yan harboured… It must have been the reason why someone wanted him dead.

How could anyone evade those relentless pursuers and reach out to Lu Yan?

The taskers who had ventured out in search of clues had all come back, except for the ones who had met their grisly fate. Shen Zhu was the last to return. Her face bore a ghostly pallor, and she slipped in without drawing any attention, exchanging a few perfunctory words with the others before heading straight to her room.

Only when she lay down on her bed did Shen Zhu feel the full weight of her narrow escape from death.

She still couldn’t wrap her head around it. Yan Hao Yue had let her live. She should have been dead, transformed into a ferocious spectre, yet she had spared her.

Why?

She felt off-kilter today. Her mind was foggy and restless, her thoughts sluggish and erratic, and her emotions unstable and volatile. But she didn’t pay heed… or maybe she deliberately overlooked her own abnormality. She washed up in a hurry, and then lay down to rest.

She didn’t realise that even as she was washing up, she never once looked at the mirror.

Because, if she had lifted her gaze, she would have seen her own reflection in the mirror, with a gaping hole in her skull, where swarms of white maggots writhed and squirmed, feasting on her brain.

Odd… her head was throbbing more and more.

Shen Zhu’s headache prevented her from sleeping.

Not just her head, but her whole body was growing colder and colder.

A bone-chilling cold seeped into her skin, making her shiver uncontrollably. Shen Zhu clutched the blanket around her, seeking some warmth, but it was useless. The cold was relentless, unforgiving, as if it wanted to freeze her to death.

How could it be so cold? She wondered, her teeth chattering. It was winter, yes, but the blanket she was under should have been made of thick cotton, soft and cozy. 

But wait… thick cotton blanket?

A surge of astonishment jolted her awake. She reached out to touch the blanket, only to feel a thin layer of white cloth, barely covering her body. It felt rough and scratchy, like a cheap shroud. And underneath it, she could sense the hard surface of a cold metal, confining her in a cramped space.

Where the hell was she? She had been lying in bed, sleeping peacefully, just a moment ago!

Panic gripped her heart, making it pound wildly. She tried to sit up, to break free from this nightmare, but she couldn’t. She was trapped, imprisoned in a narrow, icy space that resembled a square coffin.

Where the hell was she?

She had been lying on her left side, facing the wall. She attempted to turn to the other side, hoping to find a way out, but she froze in horror.

There, right in front of her, was Yan Hao Yue’s pale face. Her eyes were wide open, staring blankly at nothing. Her eyeballs were askew, as if they had rolled back in their sockets. Her lips were blue, Her skin was grey, Her expression was lifeless.

She was dead. And she was lying next to her. She was actually lying next to Yan Hao Yue, next to her corpse.

She knew where she was. She knew what had happened.

“Ahhh—”

Her scream echoed through the morgue on the third basement floor. 

**

Lu Yan had not slept for days.

Sleep eluded him, but he dared not succumb to the lure of slumber. Every time he closed his eyes, a primal fear would jolt him awake, compelling him to escape. He had followed his usual routine, sneaking into the residential building near his target’s location, hoping that the ghosts would strike the target first and spare him the torment. But sleep was still a luxury he could not afford.

He sat in the dimly lit room, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. He closed them briefly, testing his luck.

A surge of crimson invaded his sight, startling him. He snapped his eyes open and looked at the window.

He did not notice the faint blood-red shape that lurked in his dark pupils. But he had a hunch.

He had to avoid seeing his own reflection, for that was the only way he could catch a glimpse of it when he closed his eyes…

It was hiding inside his eyes, so if he saw his reflection, it would see him too.

And if he kept his eyes closed for too long, it would sense his presence.

Lu Yan gazed out of the window, wondering when that thing had entered his eyes. He racked his brain and remembered a date.

It was the day he had arrived at Spirit Vale Town and found the residential building to rest. He had been puzzled by the sudden disappearance of his sleep paralysis, but now he realised that it had been lurking in his eyes ever since.

But what was it? And if it was a ghost, whose ghost was it?

His ears picked up the sound of distant explosions.

Explosions were still rocking the town, spreading chaos and death.

**

This time, the blast ripped through a residential area, where most people were sleeping peacefully. The explosion shattered the night’s silence, sending a small mushroom cloud into the sky, claiming lives without a loud bang. 

“Damn it! Who the hell is doing this? Who’s planting these bombs?” Constable Xiao Li fumed with rage. “If I get my hands on him, I’ll blow his brains out.”

“Stop wasting time, we need to save the injured!”

The sirens of ambulances, police cars, and fire trucks pierced the night air, converging on the scene of the blast. But the flames were too intense, devouring everything in their path. The firefighters battled valiantly to quell the inferno, but by the time they succeeded, the residential area was nothing but a smouldering heap of rubble.

No one made it out alive.

They were used to seeing death in different forms, but the sheer scale of this carnage still filled them with dread.

Who could be behind this?

A lone figure stepped out of the tall building, surveying the commotion from a distance. He casually strolled into the shadows, clutching an unused pistol in his hand. A long axe hung from his back, glinting in the moonlight.

Surprisingly, it was someone who looked like Lu Yan.

He made his way along the deserted street, sensing something was following him. He suddenly sidestepped, dodging a small dagger that flew from behind. The dagger embedded itself into the wall with a thud, missing him by inches.

As he expected! It had found him again!

He sprinted away.

☆100

A lone figure sprinted down the empty street, his feet rapidly hitting the pavement with a sense of desperate urgency. He ran as if his very existence depended on it, because it did.

Someone was hunting him.

“Bang!”

A gunshot pierced the air, its sound barely distinguishable amidst his laboured breaths. Swiftly, he contorted his body, narrowly avoiding the bullet that ripped through a nearby tree, setting it ablaze.

Who wanted him dead?

On the roof of a nearby building, a shadowy figure pulled out a gun, crouched low, and moved swiftly. They assessed the distance and angle, then stood up to throw a makeshift bomb toward the street below, before continuing their pursuit.

The bomb exploded with a deafening roar, sending a wave of heat and debris in all directions. Trees were uprooted, cars were flipped, and windows shattered.

Lu Yan, who had been sprinting down the street, managed to dive into a small shop at the last moment. However, he was not unharmed. His face and left shoulder were covered in large gashes, with blood oozing from the wounds. Ignoring the terrified gaze of the shopkeeper, he went straight to the sink to wash his injuries and ask for some bandages.

He was polite, but the shopkeeper remained wary. Seeing the calm and resolute expression on the stranger’s face, he fetched a first aid kit, hoping the stranger would soon leave. And he did. After tending to his wounds, Lu Yan expressed his gratitude and rose to leave.

A glimmer of steel.

A spray of crimson.

Lu Yan pulled his hood over his face, concealing his scars, took hold of the axe, and departed.

Knowing that he would meet his demise in the future, he made a wish to the god to be able to return to the past and alter his fate.

The god agreed.

And this time, they finally tallied up the cost of his previous wishes, demanding the lives of all the residents in the small town.

Lu Yan had become indifferent to these people, viewing them as nothing more than pawns in his game—not enemies, not friends, just obstacles.

They appeared to be ordinary people, but why couldn’t they behave like ordinary people?

He agreed without hesitation. In the future he had envisioned, these people would perish regardless.

Besides, once he completed his mission, the people in Spirit Vale Town would come back to life in some other way.

He stepped out of the shop and glanced up in the direction from where the bomb had come. There was no sign of anyone; they were probably gone by now.

But…

From his wounded flesh, he pulled out a small knife and held it up against his own blade.

They were identical in every way.

One of them belonged to him, and the other had been wielded by his assailant.

He froze, scanning his surroundings.

There was no doubt; the one who had attacked him was his own doppelganger. He had no idea if it was a future version of himself or a parallel one from another timeline, nor what the motive and the means of the attack were.

He had noticed that these missions had begun to involve more and more time anomalies, ranging from subtle to blatant.

Lu Yan pocketed the knives and resumed his sprint.

He would not give up, even if he learned that his attacker was his future self, or for some other reason. He did not trust the vague notion of “his future self”; he only trusted his present self.

Another bomb screamed down from the sky, but Lu Yan was ready for it. He grabbed a jagged piece of metal from the rubble and hurled it at the missile, knocking it off course. It smashed into a nearby apartment building, sending glass and flames everywhere. Lu Yan ran for cover.

The air was thick with cries of pain, terror, and desperation… and in the far distance, the police sirens blared again.

On the other side of the town…

Lu Yan wasn’t asleep; he was just resting his eyes. Barely.

He had guessed correctly; that thing… it was hiding in his eyeballs. That was why the bomber could not let him see a mirror, for then that thing would locate him through the reflection.

No one could sleep tonight, most likely. The town had been rocked by at least twenty explosions, and the death toll was unknown.

Another blast echoed, and Lu Yan turned his head towards the noise.

Far away, across two streets, a column of fire rose into the night.

It seemed his future self had no intention of killing him.

He could afford to take the risk of targeting his future self, knowing that he would still have a chance to live on after the mission was over. But what if his future self succeeded in killing his past self? Would he then vanish into thin air, or would he create a paradox that would tear apart the fabric of reality?

**

A hasty meeting was convened in a secluded room, attended by some of the most influential figures among this batch of mission participants: Di Ying, Xi Men Yuan, Jiang Yu, Ling Tong, and Tan Xu.

Ling Tong checked his watch with a frown and asked, “Did anyone bother to inform Shen Zhu? How come she hasn’t shown up yet?”

Di Ying responded, “I did, but she seemed unwell today. Perhaps she’s resting.”

Jiang Yu interjected, “Well, in that case, let’s not waste any more time waiting for her. Just give her a gentle reminder later.” He then proceeded to lay out a hand-drawn map on the table, the result of his meticulous work with inputs from everyone. He also produced a set of small flags with bases and placed them strategically on the map.

“Take a good look, everyone. These are the locations where the explosions are going to happen tonight.” He gestured at the map. “Do you notice anything odd?”

There were twenty-three spots in total, scattered randomly across the map, forming no discernible pattern or shape as one would expect from a typical suspense novel.

Di Ying wondered, “Are they mostly residential buildings?”

Indeed, apart from a library and a supermarket, all the other places marked with flags bore the label of residential buildings.

Residential buildings implied high population density, especially at night when people were sound asleep, making it harder to flee from the blast.

“That’s not all. Look closer.” The man pointed his finger at a specific spot.

That spot was none other than the building where they resided.

“Our residence is also a residential building with a high concentration of people. And since we are here on a mission, we should be more appealing to the ghosts. Why would they spare our building from the explosions?”

It made no sense, even if the explosions were unpredictable, that they would skip their building based on the trajectory they followed.

As for the idea that the mission was somehow “protecting” them? Ha, they would sooner trust science than that.

“A ghost killing could be done in a more subtle way, so I suspect human involvement.” 

The others nodded in agreement, their eyes darting around the dimly lit room. They wondered why the killer would avoid their residence.

Ling Tong broke the silence with a sigh. “But we shouldn’t jump to conclusions. We’ll have to wait and see if this has any repercussions for us in the next few days,” he said, trying to sound optimistic.

“Speaking of human involvement, do you all remember Wang Shun De? The two who were guarding at the mouth of the tunnel,” stroked his chin, deep in thought. “At first, we all assumed it was the work of ghosts. But later, we deduced that the likely culprit was Lu Yan. Do you think this explosion could also…?”

He trailed off, but everyone present understood his unspoken words.

“It’s hard to say,” Jiang Yu muttered, shaking his head.

If it was really Lu Yan, why hadn’t he targeted them? Among the people who died in the explosion, there were hardly any taskers, mostly just local residents.

Furthermore, if it was really Lu Yan, why would he kill the people in town? Clearly, the townsfolk didn’t know him, so it was unlikely he was a vengeful ghost seeking indiscriminate revenge, right?

Every task had a solution. Since it was clearly stated that Lu Yan must be killed, there must be a way to eliminate him.

No one could figure out his motive, even after thinking for a while. 

Di Ying broke the silence, asking, “Any news from Lin Chu’s side?”

Jiang Yu pointed to his ear, wearing a small earpiece. He said, “She’s asleep.”

“What do you think of her?” Di Ying frowned, finding it hard to believe that she could sleep so soundly in such a situation, but she didn’t press further.

Xi Men Yuan said, “She’s a suspicious character.”

Ling Tong added, “I don’t believe she’s unaware, but she probably doesn’t have other solutions like we speculated.”

“Or maybe she has some other reason that we don’t know about.”

Dai Ying asked. “What about the man who’s been helping her, called Yu Huai Yao?”

Jiang Yu nodded curtly. “He’s also asleep. When we return to reality, everyone should investigate the identities of these people. I don’t think Lin Chu is as simple as she seems,” he added, lowering his voice. “She might be the most dangerous one among this group of newcomers.”

His words sent a chill down everyone’s spine.

If Jiang Yu, who had seen countless horrors and dangers, used such a word to describe her, she must be far from simple. 

A hesitant voice spoke up. “Do you think it’s possible that her task is different from ours?”

Ling Tong scoffed loudly. “How could that be?”

But then he faltered, as if realising the absurdity of his own question.

Indeed, why couldn’t it be possible?

The tasks nowadays were becoming increasingly bizarre, the way forward was harder to find, so what was strange about different tasks in the same world?

They had no idea what this world was planning, or what kind of game they were playing.

After some further discussion, everyone dispersed, leaving Jiang Yu alone in the room.

He muttered three names under his breath. “Lu Yan, Jiang Bai, Lin Chu…”

He pondered silently, his mind shrouded in a thick fog, unable to see the truth clearly.

If Jiang Bai was indeed Lu Yan, the first task could easily be completed, but where should they look for the missing person?

And what about Lin Chu? What was her role in all this?

**

Meanwhile, Lu Yan was still on the run, hunted by an unknown enemy.

The ruthless hunter, who had been tracking him with lethal weapons, had retreated into the shadows and even betrayed his whereabouts to the police. Now, a small squad of armed officers was hot on his trail.

To avoid interfering with his past self along this timeline, he had stashed the axe halfway and stumbled upon a motorcycle. After breaking the lock, he revved up the engine and sped away.

The motorcycle thundered down the street, leaving behind a trail of smoke and noise. If he could just get past this intersection, he could head towards the west of town, where the streets were busier and more chaotic, making it easier to escape. He could see the traffic lights ahead, turning green.

But…

Just as he was about to cross the intersection, Lu Yan slammed on the brakes. The tires squealed against the pavement, igniting sparks of fire. Without waiting for the motorcycle to come to a halt, he flung himself off, letting it crash into a tree at the roadside.

He rolled on the ground, shielding his head. Although he sustained minor injuries, he felt more relieved than anything. He had just dodged a bullet. Or rather, a wire.

The police car behind him failed to stop in time. The metal wires that had been strung across the road at high speed sliced through the car’s roof and the heads of the four people inside, sending them flying into the air before being snagged and pulled down by the wires above.

The tyres were also cut in half, and the car, carrying four headless corpses, hurtled forward, smashing into a nearby shopfront – another blast followed.

Lu Yan gasped and crawled into the shadows.

He had not expected that his future self would have set up such a deadly trap at the intersection!

This way, no matter how he tried to escape, whether on foot, on a bike, or in a car, he would surely meet a gruesome end. If he had not leaped off the bike just then, he might have shared the same fate as those people.

Two more police cars closed in. They witnessed the horrific sight of their comrades, and the second car desperately hit the brakes. However, they were too late, and they too lost their roof and the heads of the two front-seat passengers.

The young constable in the back seat felt his chest convulse with violent spasms. He had barely registered the calamity that befell the car in front of them when he instinctively bellowed “Get down!” and hurled himself onto the seat.

The two in front, however, had no chance to react; they were already doomed…

As he crouched down to avoid the wire, his hand reached for the door and nudged it open a bit. The sudden stop almost flung him out of the car, his hand still gripping the handle, but he managed to anchor himself by hooking his feet around the seat.

He raised his head and caught a glimpse of the face of the person they had been pursuing all this time through the opened gap.

The person seemed oblivious to him, apparently desperate to escape. They pulled down their hood and walked away without looking back.

He clambered out of the car, turned around, and beheld the grisly scene: half of the car had smashed into a building, with flames devouring both the upper and lower parts. He saw several severed heads scattered on the ground, and… a motorcycle.

That was the culprit’s escape vehicle.

The person had eluded them.

He hobbled over, intending to scour the car for any clues, and spotted a blood stained bandage.

It was better than nothing; it might reveal some information about the other person.

In the distance, he saw another group of teammates arriving. The young constable, whose surname was Yang, pocketed the bandage and waved to them from afar.

“Did you get a good look at him?”

He nodded and started to describe, “He had a refined appearance, quite tall, over six feet by my estimation, with a slender face, eyes…”

The artist’s hand moved swiftly over the paper, capturing the features of a young man as Xiao Yang narrated them.

“See this cheek here?” Xiao Yang gestured to the left side of the face, from the brow to the jaw. “It’s marred by burns. Not charred, but scraped raw, the skin torn and bleeding. A gruesome sight, hard to miss. The wound must have been at least three days old. I bet that gauze I found was meant to cover it up.”

The artist nodded, adding the scars to the sketch with his pencil.

“That’s him, alright. No doubt about it.” Xiao Yang confirmed, his eyes scanning the image.

The newly minted portrait of the suspect was soon distributed within the police station. It was printed and ready to be plastered as a wanted poster the following day.

The next morning, the taskers were greeted by a familiar face on every wall and corner of the streets and alleys, even below their own residence.

“Isn’t this Jiang Bai?” Xi Men Yuan asked, snapping a photo of the poster and scrutinising the resemblance.

The only difference was the scar.

Across the street, Lu Yan stepped out of the building where he had spent the night.

He looked weary, having barely slept, but his expression was composed, betraying no sign of awareness that a group of people were scheming to end his life.

Some of the taskers were still around, and as the prime suspect emerged, they all fixed their gaze on him.

The resemblance was uncanny…

Yet, there was a glaring discrepancy. The face on the wanted poster bore a large, ugly wound, while Jiang Bai’s face was immaculate, without a hint of injury.

“Jiang Bai” greeted them with a friendly smile, his slightly pallid face giving him a fragile appearance. “Good morning. What are you all staring at?”

Xi Men Yuan said nothing, his eyes scanning Jiang Bai from head to foot.

He seemed weary, as if he had hardly slept, but he was spotless… Xi Men Yuan sniffed, but he detected no trace of gunpowder on the other man.

Was it possible that there were two people who looked so alike?

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

Lu Yan approached them, his gaze falling on the face on the wanted poster. He halted, his hand flying to his own face. “How can this be? This person…” He shook his head vehemently. “It’s not me. I swear… I was in my room resting all night long.”

“So, Mr. Jiang Bai, do you have a twin brother?” Jiang Yu inquired.

“Jiang Bai” shook his head, his expression bewildered.

“You don’t look like a local. What brought you here? This Spirit Vale Town is quite isolated, and very few outsiders venture in.”

Lu Yan was about to divulge his previous motives when his eyelids flickered, and he cut himself off.

His current identity was Jiang Bai. What if they demanded to see his press credentials? He couldn’t afford to expose any of his documents now.

“I heard that the town is hosting a traditional cultural festival, and I came to seek some inspiration,” Lu Yan said. “Truth be told, I’m an artist, planning to hold an art exhibition when I go back. I never anticipated to stumble upon something like this as soon as I arrived…”

“A traditional cultural festival?”

The others exchanged puzzled looks. How come they had no clue about it?

“Yes, a traditional cultural festival.” Lu Yan produced a flyer from his pocket and showed it to them.

It was the same one he had obtained earlier from the clown girl.

The flyer had transformed, the masks on it still intact, but now accompanied by several lines of blood-red text, announcing the time and location of the cultural festival.

And the cultural festival was slated for the end of this month!

“I suppose you’re all outsiders, come here for the festival,” Jiang Bai said, fishing for information.

Confronted by Jiang Bai’s query, Xi Men Yuan responded, “We’ve never heard of the Cultural Festival, just heard the scenery was splendid, so we decided to explore it.”

“So, are you lot planning to join this Cultural Festival?” Jiang Bai asked.

All of a sudden, Lu Yan concocted a daring idea.

His gaze grew gradually malicious, boring into everyone, a cold smile curling his lips. “Are you planning to join this Cultural Festival?”

At that moment, he was indistinguishable from an ordinary person possessed by a ghost, making the closest tasker recoil in terror. “You…” His words were cut off as Jiang Yu swiftly intervened, shaking his head mutely.

Would taunting a ghost be courting death?

“Are you… going… to the Cultural Festival?”

“Jiang Bai” looked decidedly unhinged, glaring at them fiercely, his face twisted in a snarl, producing an almost inhuman, spine-chilling hiss from his throat.

“You must come after seeing the flyer…”

When dealing with ordinary people, negotiation was still feasible, but when faced with someone inexplicably possessed, the taskers didn’t instantly flee, perhaps overestimating their psychological fortitude.

No sooner had the words left his lips than Jiang Bai’s eyes rolled back in his head, his body going limp as if he were about to collapse. Jiang Yu, who was nearest to him, swiftly reached out to catch him, but in the next instant, Jiang Bai regained his balance, lifting his head with a bewildered expression.

Jiang Bai pressed his hand to his forehead, inhaling and exhaling deeply. He managed to compose himself after a few moments, and flashed a casual smile at the others, apologising for his sudden spell. He said he wanted to go back to his room and rest, and asked them not to mention his name to the police, or he would be in trouble.

As soon as he ascended the stairs, the others resumed their conversation.

“He just now…” someone attempted to bring up Jiang Bai’s strange behaviour, but was quickly silenced by a significant look, and changed the subject instead.

They all knew, even if they did not say it out loud, that he was possessed by a ghost.

“A cultural festival? How come I haven’t heard anyone else talk about it? And the town seems unaware of it.”

“Maybe it’s because of the explosion case; everyone’s focused on that. This cultural festival might not even happen.”

Jiang Yu kept his eyes on Jiang Bai’s figure until he vanished down the hallway. Then he said, “Let Lin Chu go and investigate this ‘Jiang Bai.’”

Fang Tu nodded slightly, hiding his disappointment, and signalled his agreement.

His gaze had also been riveted on Jiang Bai.

People like him… they would be more interesting if they were ghosts. Cutting them open would be quite a thrill.

Would NPCs possessed by ghosts show any noticeable differences?

Jiang Yu shot him a warning look, “We don’t know how dangerous he is yet. Don’t get carried away.”

With a casual nod and a flourish of his coat, Fang Tu departed.

He reached the door of Lin Chu’s room, and without waiting for a reply, barged in. He flashed a sly smile at Lin Chu, who was sitting by the window and jerked her head around in fear. “You have a crush on that NPC, don’t you? Well, this is your lucky day.”

Lin Chu gasped. “What are you talking about?”

Fang Tu sauntered over and untied the rope from her wrist. His skin was icy, and his soft, slender fingers crept along Lin Chu’s skin like a serpent.

He was like a snake slithering in the dark, hissing poison at his quivering victim. “You better know what to say and what not to say.”

Lin Chu shuddered. “I… I know, I won’t say anything wrong.”

Fang Tu escorted Lin Chu to Jiang Bai’s residence. He concealed himself at the stairwell, observing Lin Chu knock on the door before leaving with a sigh of relief.

On the other side of the town,

A man cloaked in black sat in a deserted building, with various materials spread out before him. He was rapidly finishing the task at hand.

He knew that his past self would die in this mission, on the day of the Cultural Festival.

So, his self who died at the Cultural Festival came back to the past through a wish, which was now the present. But wishes from the gods were always unreliable, and this wish might result in even more horrific and chaotic outcomes.

He had to stop his past self this time! And he had to survive this Cultural Festival!

With this thought in mind, Lu Yan’s movements hastened, and soon, several homemade explosives were once again arranged on the table.

The daylight poured in, casting a faint glow on the cut scars that marred his left cheek, already crusted over and soon to fade.

On the table before him lay a wanted poster, bearing a face identical to his own, except for the scars. Next to it rested a bunch of recently extinguished gunpowder tubes, forged from metal, still emanating heat.

He reached out, pressing the gunpowder tubes against his face.

A searing, scorching pain coursed through him, accompanied by the stench of charred flesh. Lu Yan endured it, slowly recreating the scars.

This time… he had to survive.

In another world.

After bidding farewell to An Ru, Chu Xiu returned to his dwelling.

He had been cohabiting with that idol for over a month now. He should have gotten rid of it swiftly, but all of a sudden, he felt reluctant to do so.

This was a god… How could he desecrate it?

Chu Xiu saw nothing wrong with his actions. With reverence, he polished the idol and placed it on the altar.

(TN: Finally, I reached the 100 chapter!!! Yahoo! And there are too many Lu Yan’s to keep track of.)

NEXT >>