ICSST CH74: Targeted

Sensing someone’s gaze from beside him, Zhou Qi’an turned slightly and tilted his head.

Shen Zhiyi was looking at the bag on his back and asked, “Want me to carry it for you?”

Zhou Qi’an shook his head. “It’s not heavy yet.”

He chose his words carefully, already making a deliberate distinction between the present and the future.

“……”

There were three brick houses in the courtyard—one in the center, and one on each side.

Suddenly, the village chief said, “There’s another house across the yard.”

As he said this, the temperature in the courtyard seemed to drop all at once. Most players either looked away or lowered their heads, afraid to meet the chief’s eyes.

Those dim, lightless eyes finally landed viciously on Zhou Qi’an.

“Let this expert stay over there.”

Zhou Qi’an blinked.

The village chief rasped in his bellows-like voice, “Can’t leave the house empty. Otherwise the villagers would’ve cleaned it up for nothing.”

Zhou Qi’an tried to refuse but failed, so he didn’t bother wasting any more words.

The chief left behind a few candles and turned his back, gesturing for Zhou Qi’an to follow. Before leaving, he turned around and added:

“Our villagers get up early. When in Rome, you know… I hope you’ll all rise early too. I’ll accompany you on the investigation tomorrow.”

As Zhou Qi’an was forced to leave with the chief, the remaining players had mixed reactions—some were gloating, others were sympathetic or quietly relieved.

Not many people usually die on the first night. As long as someone else takes that slot, the rest can breathe easy.

Under the moonlight, the young man’s lean and slender figure gradually shrank from view. Shen Zhiyi’s gray-white eyes never looked away.

He had already warned them before coming—he really didn’t want to see another bloody corpse.

What happened in the infirmary was enough for a lifetime.

From now on, whether it was overdrawing the power of the holy relic, or breaking the seal in Zhou Qi’an’s right eye, he would no longer consider Zhou Qi’an’s preferences.

The two courtyards were similarly built.

Each had brick houses, but the opposite one had only a single room, directly facing a crimson gate.

The village chief carefully left behind a candle, chuckled twice in the dark, and departed.

Zhou Qi’an lifted his eyes to examine the sparsely furnished room.

The walls were at least ten inches thick, making the space inside far smaller than expected.

Narrow, low, damp. The kang bed was built so high that it was hard to sit upright on it. This didn’t seem like an ordinary dwelling. The window was less than a third the height of a normal one, and the door outside could even be locked with an iron chain.

Nothing seemed especially noteworthy.

Zhou Qi’an calmly took a few pieces of old clothing from his bag—snagged earlier—to ward off the nighttime chill and keep himself awake.

…

After Zhou Qi’an left, the square-faced man and several others stayed in one of the brick rooms.

The female player who had agreed to partner with Zhou Qi’an for the dungeon demanded a room to herself, and the others were more than happy to oblige. Generally speaking, the more people together, the safer it felt.

Ying Yu and Shen Zhiyi naturally didn’t cram into the group room either, but neither of them lay on the kang bed. Shen Zhiyi leaned against the wall with his eyes closed, while Ying Yu pulled over a chair and rested behind the door—in a blind spot with a quick escape route.

Night fell completely.

The multi-person room was in the left brick house.

People stood watch in pairs. Using chairs and space on the kang, everyone had plenty of room to sleep.

Late into the night, the square-faced man yawned.

The player standing watch with him checked the time and nudged the two girls on the kang: “Your turn.”

The younger girl curled up and got up for her shift.

Time ticked by. She shivered and asked uncertainly, “Sister Zhao, don’t you think it’s strangely cold?”

“A bit,” Sister Zhao admitted, pulling out a talisman just in case. “But don’t worry too much. Fengshui Village is a story-based dungeon. Before the chief leads us into the plot, nothing major will happen.”

She paused. “And even if something does happen, it won’t be us.”

The young man staying alone in the other courtyard—clearly, he was the one being targeted.

One of them guarded the door. The other kept watch by the window.

No one knew how much time passed before the younger girl, nose red from the cold, suddenly smelled something sweet and metallic. As the scent spread, she strangely felt a rare warmth.

She groggily turned her head.

Huh? When was that candle on the table lit?

She was so tired her eyes could barely stay open. Just before her lids drooped shut again, she vaguely saw the talisman on Sister Zhao’s body ignite.

“Zhao…” Her murmur was lost between her lips. The young girl drifted fully into sleep.

Inside the room, everyone slept deeply and peacefully.

There were even faint snores from the beds. Everyone’s faces were rosy, like the chubby-cheeked children in New Year paintings.

On the table, the candle flickered and burned. Hot wax dripped steadily down its body.

Creak.

The door, braced by a table, remained tightly shut. But the window—

Suddenly opened.

…

Ding-a-ling-a-ling!

A shrill alarm blared.

The young man, deep in a dreamlike slumber, jolted awake. He stared blankly for a moment, then sluggishly realized:

“I actually fell asleep.”

Too many variables came with being alone. As a precaution, Zhou Qi’an had used the [Little Alarm Clock]. This mediocre item he’d snagged from Mu Tianbai, while not very useful in combat, could rouse its user from sleep no matter the cause—sleep paralysis, supernatural coma, or otherwise.

Zhou Qi’an’s muscles were slightly stiff.

The room had been pitch dark when he lay down, but now it was lit. Steeling his nerves, he slowly turned his neck—and saw that the square black table held the candle the village chief had left behind, burning on its own. Cold wind slipped in through the window cracks, and the flame twisted in the shadows.

He had just woken up, yet drowsiness crept in again. A flush spread unnaturally across Zhou Qi’an’s face.

Before it overtook him, he braced a hand on the bed’s edge and jumped down.

This time, he didn’t hesitate—he broke open the door and rushed to the opposite side.

If the candle was the problem, then his room wouldn’t be the only one. The others might be in danger too—waking them might actually be safer.

The courtyard gate was open.

Earlier that night, he had pried loose a brick near the threshold. That spot now showed damp mud.

If anyone had passed through, they would’ve left footprints. But aside from the earlier tracks left by the village chief and himself, there was nothing.

If no one had gone out—why was the gate open?

“Shen Zhiyi! Ying Yu!”

Zhou Qi’an shouted their names, but got no response. He chose a door at random and knocked hard.

His fists struck like they were hitting cotton—only a dull thump came out. He knocked over a corner barrel and scattered some clutter, still no response.

Silence.

The entire courtyard was unnaturally silent.

It was as if he were the only one awake in the world.

Sensing something, Zhou Qi’an turned around—and saw half a candle floating behind him, drifting toward him through the air.

“!”

He turned and ran.

The faint scent of candle wax slowed his usual pace. A sickly flush crept over Zhou Qi’an’s pale cheeks.

The courtyard was damp.

To be precise, the entire Fengshui Village was absurdly damp.

The rubber soles of his shoes, slick with moisture, stuck to the hard ground with squelching, sticky slaps. Yet, despite the noise, not a single villager lit a lamp or peeked out from the sound-leaking earthen houses lining the road.

Fengshui Village was surrounded by ditches on all sides, with a narrow water channel cutting through the center of the road.

Just as Zhou Qi’an was about to leap over it, he caught sight of a reflection in the water.

The murky canal showed his face—and behind his shoulder, a woman’s face was rapidly enlarging. Her body was formless, able to pass through any obstacle, and her face was on the verge of overlapping his.

The man’s and woman’s faces were so close they nearly merged and separated in eerie succession.

“What the hell?”

The candle hovered ever closer, exuding a dense, ominous aura.

A drop of scorching wax splattered on his back. The pain made his muscles twitch. Zhou Qi’an didn’t dare linger—he sprinted forward with all his might.

Just as he was about to reach the end of the village, his footsteps suddenly halted.

In the distance, veiled by mist, a white building peeked out from the hills.

…It had a sense of culture.

Though the full structure remained obscured, even this glimpse betrayed an air of artistry—completely at odds with the mudbrick houses of the village.

Seeing the candle drawing near again, Zhou Qi’an lowered his head and ran straight for the building.

Along the way, the sound of spring water trickled constantly by his ears, haunting and unrelenting like a ghost.

He barely made it to the building before the candle went out.

When he finally looked up at the mysterious structure, clear surprise filled his pupils.

A church.

It was a church.

Two completely unrelated cultures were awkwardly fused in this mismatched white structure. The humid air seeped into his pores, giving Zhou Qi’an the illusion of drowning.

This church was even more terrifying than the candle.

And in fact, the candle—now reduced to a tiny stub—was barely holding off the chase.

A hazy figure appeared in his vision, seemingly a woman kneeling with a candle in hand, bowing toward the church.

Caught between a rock and a hard place, Zhou Qi’an gritted his teeth and stepped inside.

The church was pitch-black and silent. Zhou Qi’an didn’t venture far—he could sense towering pillars nearby. He moved swiftly, hiding behind one.

The pillar’s surface had something hanging from it—something rough and unsettling.

Just then, the candle slowly floated in.

A red glow spilled across the church. In this eerie light, Zhou Qi’an finally realized what he was pressing his back against.

Thick at both ends and narrow in the middle—

It was a string of human bones, grotesquely arranged as decoration on the pillar.

The surrounding walls were also hung with countless remains. Thousands of bones assembled into strange totems. The eyes of these totems were formed by innumerable pale skulls.

Suddenly, every skull turned in unison—facing Zhou Qi’an.

His face changed.

The candle was gone.

Being chased by it was better than having it vanish.

In the silence that followed, Zhou Qi’an was about to look for the candle when a cold presence crept up his spine. He spun around—and in the twisted candlelight—was caught off guard by a ghost face inches from his own.

“Shit!”

The curse he spat carried enough air to extinguish the flame.

Zhou Qi’an: “……”

Ghost: “……”

Before his alarm could wake him, the ghost hadn’t attacked—most likely waiting for the candle to burn out.

But now, it had gone out prematurely.

It was as if he heard the countdown to death. Zhou Qi’an stood frozen, throat dry. “Sister, give me a chance.”

Could she maybe… let him relight it?

The misty figure lunged at him!

Zhou Qi’an bolted, dashing around the pillar with everything he had.

After three laps, he nearly collided face-first into the ghost again.

He didn’t dare run outside—the ghost’s speed and power seemed limited inside the church. But sacred items only had a few uses. He had already played his trump card on the first night. How was he supposed to survive after this?

The only thing left in his hand now was an elegant, sturdy [Cane]. Zhou Qi’an swung it hard behind him.

…It hit nothing.

There was no physical form—like swinging into air.

The ghost suddenly changed direction. At the same time, Zhou Qi’an gave up circling the pillar and ran straight deeper into the church. The darkness was so thick even his trained eyes could barely see. In fleeting moments, he glimpsed skeletal candelabras on both sides ahead.

The skulls on them chattered softly—also watching him.

A thin layer of sweat appeared on Zhou Qi’an’s forehead. His mind began spinning like a machine at full throttle.

The candle had gone out—so why hadn’t the ghost killed him immediately?

It seemed… hesitant.

“Could it be…”

Before entering the village, amidst the deafening roll call, he had swiped something off the village chief. The mountain path was dark, and the old man probably just thought he dropped it—no proof, no blame.

Had he actually stolen something valuable?

The backpack he always wore—even while sleeping—was finally coming in handy. He rummaged through it while running.

He remembered it as a teardrop-shaped pendant, cool to the touch, dangling from the village chief’s rough hemp belt. It had swayed temptingly, as if testing his morals.

Zhou Qi’an had no morals.

So he stole it.

Now, the bone-chilling cold from behind seeped into his joints.

In the darkness, under the stares of countless turning skulls, Zhou Qi’an first pulled out some rocks.

Not this one!

A gecko tail and some wilted wild vegetables fell to the floor.

Still not it!

He had stolen so much—he even had bricks.

All living things growing in Fengshui Village had their unique traits — take these bricks, for example, with their oddly smooth and slippery texture.

Zhou Qi’an shook his head sharply; now was not the time to think about such things.

“Found it!” When he finally reached the bottom of his backpack, he pulled out the village chief’s water-drop pendant.

The ghostly figure had already reached in front of him. Zhou Qi’an held his breath and immediately raised the pendant high before him.

The chilling coldness seemed to pause for a moment.

“It works!” Zhou Qi’an’s eyes lit up with joy.

Taking advantage of the ghost’s hesitation, he didn’t waste a second. With swift steps, he bypassed it and dashed straight toward the outside of the church.

The blurry ghost reacted half a beat too late. It didn’t continue chasing outside but instead stood facing the direction Zhou Qi’an was fleeing toward.

Outside, the overlapping clouds parted in the sky, and Zhou Qi’an boldly glanced back.

Under the moonlight, he could clearly see the church walls strung with numerous human bones. Countless skulls stared silently in the direction he was running.

“Damn!”

Zhou Qi’an twisted his neck and didn’t look back again, turning his head away and heading back into the village.

…

The next day.

The courtyard was a mess.

When Ying Yu woke up, he saw scattered water buckets, stones kicked into the middle of the path, and trampled wild grass.

Faint breathing sounds came from nearby.

He looked up to see a young man leaning against the thick doorframe, fingers tightly gripping the backpack straps.

Ying Yu gave him a deep look. “You went mining last night?”

He looked like he had just come back from a long walk.

Zhou Qi’an gave a sheepish laugh and waved his hand. “Marathon.”

After his awkward laugh, he squinted, puzzled that no one had noticed anything strange despite the big commotion last night.

Just as Zhou Qi’an was frowning in thought, a sharp, piercing scream suddenly cut through the cold air. Ying Yu quickly headed toward the source.

Meanwhile, Shen Zhiyi also came out, but instead of going to the neighboring brick house, he first walked toward Zhou Qi’an.

Zhou Qi’an waved him off, signaling him not to come closer. “You go check it out for me.”

His legs felt weak; he still couldn’t walk over there.

At that moment, a woman appeared from the brick house on the right, also heading to check the situation.

Zhou Qi’an squinted. “She lives alone?”

Shen Zhiyi nodded. “Interesting, isn’t it?”

Zhou Qi’an straightened up and tapped the doorframe. Indeed, it was interesting — the house with many people was the one where the incident happened.

Shen Zhiyi went ahead to see the commotion. The scream attracted Miss Shen, and a staff member appeared out of nowhere with a look of amusement, arriving at the left brick house. “Making such a fuss, that’s hardly dignified.”

The people inside were startled by her shout.

“Who the hell are you?” asked the square-faced man, his face dark.

“You… didn’t you notice?” The young girl who had been keeping watch last night was the first to speak up.

She stared at everyone with a very strange gaze, her voice low and soft, but what she said next changed everyone’s expressions.

“Someone is missing.”

Everyone was stunned.

The young girl repeated, “Someone is missing.”

Sister Zhao was gone.

With her words, everyone looked around and belatedly realized there was one fewer person in their house.

A chill swept through their bodies.

One death wasn’t terrifying. But someone disappearing without a trace, and no one noticing it in the same room — that was truly horrifying.

Trying to forcibly ignore the eerie candle failed. The young girl’s gaze seemed glued to the thumb-sized pillar left, and she began to recount what happened last night.

“…I don’t even know when the candle lit itself. By the time I noticed… I was too exhausted and uncontrollable, and I fell asleep.”

She still spoke slowly, as if not fully awake from a dream.

The square-faced man frowned, put on a black glove, and started carefully inspecting the candle. Then, daringly, he sniffed it and suddenly felt dizzy and faint.

“There’s something wrong with the candle.” His eyes sharpened.

Damn it.

The candle was from the village chief — this was deliberately setting them up.

The square-faced man’s sharp gaze scanned the room, then narrowed suddenly. “Someone’s coming.”

The young girl went to open the door. It was already morning, so the candle’s danger was temporarily over. Whoever was outside was unlikely a ghost.

Shen Zhiyi and others gradually came inside, making the room much more crowded.

The square-faced man roughly explained the situation, and only then did Zhou Qi’an stroll over nonchalantly.

“Sorry, I went to wash up.”

There was a bucket of water in the corner of the yard. The young man’s pale chin still had glistening droplets, and his shirt was wet, clinging tightly to his upper body — seeming to prove his words.

The square-faced man was silent for a moment, then suddenly smiled. “If Mr. Zhou has any findings, we should share them. Of course, we’ll tell everything we know as well.”

They were all smart people.

Being specially brought to a separate courtyard by the village chief meant something would happen there. Anyone who survived must have some useful information.

Seeing Zhou Qi’an silent, the square-faced man said, “This book has no competition. Everyone just wants to get out alive.”

Oh? Playing the moral card well.

When Zhou Qi’an raised an eyebrow, Shen Zhiyi’s cold gaze swept over him.

Zhou Qi’an clearly felt the mockery in that look. The square-faced man was about to continue, but Zhou Qi’an suddenly changed his mind, eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep: “Fine, let’s exchange information.”

Proper exchange helped consolidate information.

Among the mass of information, he randomly picked out two points to share: “First, the village chief is interesting. The character ‘丰’ (feng) in Fengshui Village was written with an extra stroke on the stone tablet, showing the education level here. But he could say things like ‘when in Rome, do as the Romans,’ ‘experts,’ and ‘investigation’ — words unlikely from an illiterate.”

An extra stroke?

Everyone exchanged glances. They hadn’t noticed that last night in the dark, only seeing flies and dense bugs.

Changing topic, Zhou Qi’an’s tone carried a vague but strange implication: “Fengshui Village has overly clear canals everywhere, filled with flowing water, yet many families still dig wells.”

When entering the village yesterday, he heard flowing water sounds. The nearby mountain stream was a water source. Wells seemed unnecessary.

The young girl immediately said, “You think well water is drinkable, but mountain water and canal water aren’t?”

Zhou Qi’an waved his hand. “Who knows? Maybe all have problems, just to different degrees.”

He adjusted his glasses and looked at the square-faced man. “Your turn.”

The square-faced man swallowed dryly.

He had wanted to say the candle was suspicious, but compared to the information Zhou Qi’an casually gave, it was trivial.

If he said nothing, it would make him look like a freeloader who only wanted to take advantage by calling for information exchange.

Zhou Qi’an’s patience was wearing thin. “What did you find?”

The square-faced man instinctively glanced at the others. Everyone nervously avoided eye contact, and finally the gaze landed on the young girl.

The young girl dryly said, “He found someone missing from the room.”

“…”

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