Under the same bleak night sky, the brick house stood still.
Xu Gui was already lying on the heated brick bed, snoring away.
On the table lay a handful of scattered trinkets—resources scavenged by Ying Yu over the past two days. A slender, jointed hand picked them up one by one, and with just a glance, could name some strange and insightful details about each.
Ying Yu listened in silence, surprised at Shen Zhiyi’s vast knowledge.
In terms of understanding the items from this instance, the man wasn’t inferior to a research staff member from the Cangwu Lab missions—in fact, he far surpassed them.
It was like…
Like he was examining things from his own home.
A terrifying thought surfaced in Ying Yu’s mind, and his sharp eyes flickered.
But for now, what intrigued him most was Shen Zhiyi’s unusual “willingness to help.”
Given the man’s cold and indifferent attitude, he had no reason to voluntarily assist while Ying Yu sorted the materials.
A night wind blew in, either through the crack in the door or window. Shen Zhiyi’s clothes swayed slightly in the breeze. There was a kind of eerie cold glint around him that even darkness could not dissolve.
As if aware of Ying Yu’s doubts, Shen Zhiyi said flatly, “Just a bit of pity.”
Once, there was a person who went through hell and high water to reach the end of a road—only to be forced to turn back.
“They failed. The game’s criteria for selecting players was too rigid. I couldn’t find a way to make my mom a player too.”
“I need to keep searching.”
“Again and again. There has to be a way.”
No complaints. No hysterics. That calm persistence was the first thing to ever move the creatures living in darkness.
But fate played a cruel joke. Before that person could find the final answer, the catastrophe three years ago came first.
Shen Zhiyi, who believed in the law of the jungle deep down, gave a cold laugh. “You wanted to get an entry ticket for those excluded from the game. I thought that was utterly foolish, but…”
But what, he didn’t finish.
He was simply thinking: if that plan had succeeded a few years earlier, so many things would’ve been different.
Suddenly, there was a sound from outside.
A deep thud, along with footsteps. More than one person.
The room instantly fell silent.
Xu Gui, who had been sound asleep just a moment ago, jolted awake and scrambled to the window to check.
“It’s Kou Tuo and the others.”
Outside, Kou Tuo and the young girl were temporarily acting as pallbearers, carrying a large redwood chest. The female teacher held some miscellaneous items in her arms.
Leading the group was Zhou Qi’an.
He strolled ahead with empty hands and knocked on the door with exaggerated ease.
Shen Zhiyi went to open it.
Behind him, Xu Gui looked wary. A group hauling a box back this late at night? Definitely suspicious.
Once inside, Zhou Qi’an glanced at the pile of trinkets on the table and shook his head—what a miserable life they were living.
He clapped his hands.
Due to the death rule that prohibited cohabitation between genders, Kou Tuo had to carry the chest inside alone. Once opened, it revealed antiques, vases, paintings, bronze ornaments… a dazzling array.
Ying Yu froze for a moment when he saw the treasure-filled box.
Then Zhou Qi’an pulled out a thick stack of bills from his pocket and handed some over to him.
“Don’t swipe other people’s stuff anymore,” Zhou Qi’an said earnestly. “Here’s some money. If you see something you want, buy it from the NPCs.”
Ying Yu stared silently at the cash in his hand.
Under the indescribable stares of the others, Zhou Qi’an declared righteously, “In short, no more petty theft for us.”
As he spoke, a thick gold chain slipped from his pocket, which was stuffed too full. He quickly pushed it back in, but the movement made a bracelet fall from the other pocket.
He bent down to pick it up—clang—a bunch of stuff tumbled out.
The room was dead silent.
So, no petty theft… you only do big jobs, right?
Under everyone’s silent judgment, Zhou Qi’an awkwardly scooped up the items. There was just too much to carry. While he picked up one thing, something else would fall. In the end, Shen Zhiyi helped him reorganize it all.
“I had no choice,” Zhou Qi’an said.
He explained how, in the last instance, he had to throw money around in the cafeteria to get the cook’s attention.
“I had this ‘Day by Day Wealth Jar.’ Now all my ghost coins are gone, and the jar’s inactive.” Zhou Qi’an rubbed his fingers. The nights in Fengshui Village were freezing. “To use it again, I’ve got to make money.”
Xu Gui, no longer hiding his real voice, stroked his chin. “Why does that logic not make sense to me?”
Someone in the yard muttered, “It’s not just the logic.”
The whole causal chain was a mess.
This was no different than losing your own money and robbing a bank over it.
Zhou Qi’an defended himself seriously, “This was a voluntary donation to a priest-type class.”
Kou Tuo sighed, “Of course it was voluntary—the money belonged to the village chief.”
Kou Tuo then explained what had happened at the village chief’s place.
Zhou Qi’an had written a blank check, the priest had used the chief’s money to “buy” it, and the two sides completed a transaction where neither would technically lose, yet either could win big.
After hearing this, the whole room fell silent.
The house was already small, and now with a giant redwood chest inside, it was completely cramped.
Ying Yu’s inventory had storage functions, but there was no way it could hold all this at once. Surely some of it would be useless. Cangwu Lab had specialized instruments to disassemble and analyze instance materials—even extract usable energy from them.
The Skull Ring worked like a mini encyclopedia: scan to learn if a material was useful.
But the instance’s materials weren’t limited to what was in a database—there would always be things it missed. Since they’d collected all this, might as well bring it back for testing.
They left the house to the chest and stepped outside to talk.
Kou Tuo spoke first: “We don’t have much time left.”
Now only the main quest remained: dispel the curse and resolve the village’s water contamination.
The mission path was clear—they knew the stake was hidden in the corpse yard, and the village chief would eventually bring them there. Once they found the stake, they just had to pour the processed holy water over it. That would be the end.
However…
Zhou Qi’an directly addressed the worry: “The corpse yard might be hiding other dangers.”
If they could see through the trick, the priest would actually be the easiest to deal with. The priest was essentially a passive boss—so long as they didn’t trigger any death rules, he could only stand there helplessly.
“Some corpses from the yard have leaked into the real world,” Zhou Qi’an added with a grim tone. “Something’s definitely wrong with that place.”
Corpses leaking out of the instance?
Aside from Shen Zhiyi and a few insiders, the others looked shocked. When had this happened?
Zhou Qi’an casually gave a vague explanation.
Seeing he didn’t want to elaborate, the rest suppressed their shock and brainstormed potential dangers in the corpse yard.
By the time they compiled all the info, it was nearly midnight. Everyone returned to their rooms.
Before going in, Kou Tuo glanced back at the redwood chest still in the house. As someone who specialized in intel-gathering within the game, a new thought suddenly flashed through his mind.
Could it be they’d scavenged all this because…
But he quickly dismissed the idea.
So far, the major excavation teams from the lab focused mostly on minerals, cursed objects, and bronze ware.
Zhou Qi’an and his gang even stole villagers’ clothes—surely the lab researchers weren’t that frugal.
…
The latter half of the night passed quickly. By the time the sun truly rose, it was already quite late.
A burning red sun hung in the sky, blazing hot.
Sunlight easily pierced through the windows, searing the skin with faint stings. Zhou Qi’an was woken by the loud, sonorous wails of suona horns. As he stepped out toward the opposite courtyard, a large group of villagers came from behind.
The houses on both sides were lined with identical white couplets, and ghost money fluttered in the air.
Today was the funeral for the villagers who had died in the explosion.
The village chief, dressed in mourning clothes, led the way, followed by coffin-bearers and other villagers. They all wore somber white funeral garments that almost blended into the falling ghost paper.
The long procession finally stopped outside the brick house.
The village chief stared coldly inside and cut straight to the point: “Since you’ve come from afar, why not join us in the procession to mourn the dead?”
Miss Shen had already identified the cause of the explosion at the altar, and it was clear she’d told the chief. This morning, the chief looked at Xu Gui with an expression twice as cold as he gave Zhou Qi’an.
Now an unspoken threat, Zhou Qi’an remained unfazed.
He discreetly made sure the tumor under his shirt was still well hidden, then replied naturally to the chief, “Of course we’ll attend. Ah, such a tragedy…”
Standing beside the coffin, Zhou Qi’an theatrically sniffled. “They were all so young…”
Anyone under seventy was considered to have died in their prime.
After that, the village chief said something, and Zhou Qi’an followed up with a perfect reply. The two of them went back and forth, as if nothing had happened the night before.
Zhou Qi’an’s attitude was clear: as long as you didn’t tear off the mask, he would keep playing along—forever, if need be.
The chief, probably speechless at Zhou Qi’an’s shamelessness, said no more and urged them to hurry.
“Don’t miss the auspicious hour,” he rasped.
The players had already packed and changed clothes, ready to head out.
Miss Shen was also in the group, her face darker than the coffin itself. Once enthusiastic about stirring up instance events, her mindset had clearly changed. Now, she just gritted her teeth and focused on not losing another NPC.
The sun beat down harder, and oddly, the humidity rose with it. The sweltering, sticky heat drained their stamina.
The players hadn’t eaten properly in days. They knew their energy was being intentionally drained, but there was nothing they could do.
The cemetery was uniformly located behind the mountain.
The villagers had impressive lung capacity. The sound of the suona never stopped.
After trekking through the mountains for quite some time, the funeral procession finally arrived at a relatively low hilltop.
The village chief spoke meaningfully: “You didn’t have to walk this route.”
Everyone knew what he meant.
If the female teacher had died last night, they would’ve gone straight to the Corpse Yard today—cutting out all the detours.
Zhou Qi’an frowned. “Are you trying to teach an expert how to do his job?”
As expected, the village chief was pissed off again.
Zhou Qi’an folded his arms, chin slightly raised. His arrogance was practically etched onto his face as he coldly watched the funeral unfold.
The mountain path had cost them a lot of time, and with the risk of missing the auspicious hour, the entire burial process ended up being quite rushed.
The village chief raised his voice: “Lower the coffin—”
The villagers worked together to lower the coffin into the freshly dug grave and began covering it with soil.
The suona resumed, its mournful tones echoing endlessly through the heavens and earth.
Zhou Qi’an looked off to the side. The Corpse Yard might not be far from here.
Mountains, woods—and then, his gaze locked on a darkened patch in a mountain hollow. He squinted and walked a few steps in that direction, trying to get a better look.
The village chief, who had been leading the ceremony up front, used the fog as cover and suddenly appeared beside him—almost like he had materialized out of nowhere.
Zhou Qi’an finally understood the Little Red Riding Hood member’s conditioned reflex.
There was a light fog in the graveyard, and having someone suddenly pop up? A normal reaction would’ve been to shove them away.
But the village chief clearly underestimated his self-control. Then again, even if Zhou Qi’an had none, it wouldn’t have mattered—Shen Zhiyi had been watching closely the whole time.
“That’s another sacred ground,” the chief said darkly, seeing Zhou Qi’an unmoved.
Though the mountain wind was strong, everyone heard those words clearly. Alongside their excitement came a faint dread.
That must be the Corpse Yard—they were finally seeing their chance to get there.
The village chief didn’t leave them hanging for long. As soon as the final song on the suona finished, he raised his voice and declared:
“Yesterday, the altar exploded due to… certain reasons.”
He looked directly at Xu Gui and Zhou Qi’an as he spoke. The villagers, without asking questions, had already pinned the blame for the incident on these outsiders.
Xu Gui felt as if he was being stabbed through by their glares.
Being around Zhou Qi’an too long had rubbed off on him—he was starting to pick up the same bad habits, like casually mouthing off as a coping mechanism.
He deliberately touched his Adam’s apple—saying nothing was more effective than saying anything at all.
Face darkening, the village chief continued, “Now we need to go to the sacred ground and pray to appease the Holy Maiden’s wrath.”
Obviously, not all the villagers would be allowed into the second sacred ground. Around twenty tall, sturdy men stepped forward—several times the number of players.
As they lined up, the chief’s mood seemed to improve, while the players’ spirits sank.
Village chief, priest, villagers… and they hadn’t even reached the Corpse Yard yet—they already had three threats to deal with.
The chief, seeing their expressions, finally felt a bit of satisfaction.
Once the burial ended, the rest of the villagers departed along another mountain trail. At the rear of the group, a few children turned and glared at the players, one even sticking out his tongue and cursing:
“Drop dead, pigweed!”
Shen Zhiyi flicked a finger. That child tripped on a rock and fell flat on his face, blood smearing his skin.
—
The group followed the chief toward the blackened mountain hollow.
Though it looked nearby, the walk was far longer—about thirty minutes. When they finally drew close, even Zhou Qi’an’s expression began to change.
They could vaguely see something ahead, but it was unclear. The area was surrounded by a thick layer of dark specks—like a massive silkworm cocoon enveloping its center.
And it wasn’t just static.
The “cocoon” was moving. The specks flickered, appearing and vanishing like faulty lightbulbs, crackling in and out at a rapid frequency.
Forget stepping in—the players’ bodies instinctively recoiled.
“Is that it…” the young girl asked in a whisper.
The village chief seemed uneasy too. The villagers were completely silent.
After a pause, the chief looked to the side at a mountain cave. “That’s right. But we’ll take a detour through here.”
Zhou Qi’an let out a breath. “Finally, something reasonable out of your mouth.”
“…”
The cave resembled a modified tunnel, sloping downward. As they walked, cold wind whooshed around them, and the temperature dropped sharply. From overhead came the sound of trickling water.
The tunnel got narrower and narrower. Based on the terrain, they seemed to be descending at first—then gradually ascending again.
Faint light appeared at the end of the passage.
Zhou Qi’an heard the female teacher’s relieved voice. “It’s natural light.”
So, not some underwater crypt.
When the last player stepped out of the tunnel, a system notification chimed—falling like cold water droplets from the cave ceiling.
[Final Main Quest — Curse Cleansing Activated]
[Quest Objective: After days of thorough investigation, you’ve finally discovered the root of Fengshui Village’s problems. You’ve decided to solve it—together.
Clear skies and pure waters are just ahead!]
Everyone silently cursed the game’s entire family, while scanning their surroundings.
They were now in a sunken basin—bitterly cold. The temperature was probably no more than five or six degrees Celsius. Some had already begun to shiver.
At the front of the group, Zhou Qi’an stood like a pine tree. Aside from rolling down his shirt sleeves, he merely flexed his wrists.
“Not cold?” Kou Tuo asked, his fingers red from the chill.
Zhou Qi’an shook his head. “I’ve got an anti-extreme-weather buff.”
“You son of…”
Kou Tuo bit his tongue and held back the curse. Who was the real rookie here?
Even the young girl admitted that the square-jawed guy who had died earlier was not blameless—anyone could’ve misjudged the situation.
And just as the cold hit its peak, the village chief made everyone’s skin crawl:
“Expert Shen has already apologized to us and acknowledged that the altar explosion was your fault.”
Miss Shen nodded. “Yes. We were kneeling in the wrong posture.”
The players were fuming but dared not argue. Zhou Qi’an said casually, “You’re the boss. You’re always right.”
“Ignorance is not a crime.”
The village chief wore a grotesquely kind smile and looked ahead. “Follow this road, and you’ll reach the resting place of the Holy Maiden’s soul. There, you must seek her forgiveness.”
Realizing something was off, the group turned to look at him.
“You’re not coming?”
The chief was trouble, but his refusal to go in was even more troubling. The fact that he’d rather stay behind meant only one thing: the place was extremely dangerous—dangerous enough for him to avoid it entirely.
He didn’t answer. He just knelt down with a group of villagers and began to pray.
The posture stretched the cloth over the tumor on his back, and they could faintly make out the contours of a face.
“Let’s go,” said Ying Yu—the first to speak.
As staff, Miss Shen did not follow them.
She was going to stand guard herself—there was no way she was losing another NPC.
__
Author’s Note:
Miss Shen: This time, I swear!
Zhou Qi’an: Oh.
