The wind stopped, the rain stopped, and only when everyone felt they could manage again did they take another step—then a system voice, colder than usual, sounded:
[You are undercover agents sent by the newspaper boss, tasked with secretly gathering evidence of the swimming center manager’s crimes.]
This sideways “narrator” opening made everyone halt.
[Please complete the following tasks: 1) Find the pool containing a super virus and collect a sample; 2) Photograph the remains of those who died unjustly (someone drowned due to safety hazards; their bones were hidden by the swimming center manager); 3) Locate the forged “Building Safety Assessment Report” in the manager’s office.]
[Please designate who will carry the sampling bottle.]
[Sampling Bottle x1: One bottle cannot hold two waters. Once the pool is confirmed, collect a sample and seal it immediately.]
[Tip: The swimming center manager patrols the facility every 20 minutes. Avoid him carefully.]
[Tip: Complete all undercover work within 20 minutes. Any undercover still alive and tenaciously inside will receive the manager’s medical report x1 (the manager’s physiology differs from normal; this report will help you identify his weaknesses).]
[Countdown begins: 00:20:00]
The newspaper boss clearly not only wanted the manager dead, but also wanted an explosive scandal that utterly ruined him.
No one sympathized with the manager, of course. The players only sympathized with themselves.
Twenty minutes.
By the time the prompt ended, more than ten seconds had already passed.
There was not even time to complain. No one dared waste a moment—they first looked for a directory sign.
Finding a route map on a wall, they followed it at speed toward the shower rooms.
Moving as a group was naturally safer. Since there was no explicit requirement otherwise, they simply picked a random room and stood under the shower fully clothed.
Yuan Nianshu stood a bit farther off and turned the handle lightly. Water crashed down like a waterfall. In the quiet shower room, the sound was infinitely amplified by the walls. She jumped and shut it off immediately.
No one expected the water pressure to be so high.
Following her, Zhou Qi’an turned on another shower as well, but didn’t close it. He said:
“The director only patrols every 20 minutes. Don’t worry about the noise drawing him.”
Shen Zhiyi walked over and stood under the same shower as him. When Zhou Qi’an shot him a questioning look, he replied, totally justified, “Saving time.”
“?” That math didn’t track—where was the saving?
Water hammered their bodies and sprayed across the drains.
Hisss.
A faint sound was completely drowned beneath the water. Suddenly Shen Zhiyi reached out, braced Zhou Qi’an lightly, and stepped them forward.
Before Zhou Qi’an could react to the hand at his waist, his ear twitched—he seemed to hear it too.
He twisted to the side and got a nauseating eyeful.
Right where they had just been standing, black hair was spreading along the wall. Not just that—the remaining hair was swelling in the water, growing lush as seaweed, quickly crawling across the wall and into floor cracks.
All the built-up black sludge was being forced up at once.
Zhou Qi’an immediately tried to cut off the water source, but even then foul water kept surging up from the drain, feeding the hair.
Judging by the current growth rate, he could guess that by the end of the countdown, players would face not only the threat of the manager’s patrol—this hair would encircle the entire facility.
By then, the swimming center would be a natural meat grinder.
They cut the rinse short and hurried away from the hair-choked zone.
Clean towels were free in the changing room. After stepping out, Zhou Qi’an quickly wiped his hair. Without glasses, his real face was in full view.
“Don’t just stare—dry off.” Zhou Qi’an caught Shen Zhiyi’s paused hand out of the corner of his eye.
The shower water was cold; his nose tip and the corners of his eyes were faintly red. With that one glance, those long eye tails turned wickedly alluring.
Shen Zhiyi’s throat bobbed; even the act of toweling off became clumsy.
This mission was a race against time. No one else had the leisure to admire the view. Some didn’t even bother with towels, all focus fixed on the tasks.
Sixth Master frowned. “We have to split up.”
To save time, distributing people was the only way.
“I’ll take the sampling bottle. Collecting the sample isn’t hard. I can go alone.”
While others were still rapidly weighing the difficulty of each task, Zhou Qi’an stepped forward.
Not hard?
There was only one sampling bottle, and the descriptor said “one bottle cannot hold two waters,” meaning no room for trial-and-error.
Per the map, this old swimming center had five pools: a 1m children’s pool; a standard adult lap pool; a dedicated instruction pool; a diving pool; and an indoor themed artificial diving pool.
Yuan Nianshu eyed him, doubtful. “Are you sure?”
Zhou Qi’an was confident. “Isn’t this a freebie?”
Yuan Nianshu paused. Was she the fool here? Where was the “freebie”?
“You just swim each one. Whichever pool gets you ‘infected’—that’s the source. Then collect the sample.”
He looked utterly relaxed.
“…”
Healing items didn’t block viruses—Qiao Song’s unhealed wounds were proof. Other than Shen Zhiyi, who’d witnessed Zhou Qi’an eat poisonous shrimp, no one knew where his confidence came from.
More than two minutes had passed already. Curiosity could wait; they needed to move. The players compared the remaining two tasks.
Chen Su spoke first. “Nianshu and I will find the bones and take photos.”
Yuan Nianshu’s breath hitched.
Drowned and hidden—the resentment would be sky-high. In a place this saturated with yin energy, after so many years, it had surely corpse-transformed. She didn’t know why the president had picked the harder of the two tasks.
Sixth Master looked to Shen Zhiyi, smiling ruefully. “Looks like you’ll come with me to find the forged Building Safety Assessment.”
Shen Zhiyi nodded carelessly.
Before they split, he reminded Zhou Qi’an, “Don’t get your arm wet.”
Zhou Qi’an would have forgotten the ghost woman’s claw mark if he hadn’t. He glanced down. “It’s fine. It already healed.”
Thanks to the medicine he’d pressed Yuan Nianshu to hand over.
—
The swimming center was old, but big. When it opened, it caused a stir.
Finding one corpse in a place like this was a massive job.
Time was tight—everyone moved at a run. While Chen Su gauged the areas with the heaviest yin, Yuan Nianshu followed, several times wanting to speak.
Sensing her distraction, Chen Su explained her choice: “The report is in the manager’s office. We might run into him there. Do you want to run into him, or a corpse rising?”
Of course—a corpse.
The strongest ghost here was surely the manager.
As Yuan Nianshu opened her mouth, she felt something, snapped around, and froze a watery silhouette behind them—an indistinct humanoid fog.
After freezing it, her face went solemn. “Ordinary vengeful spirit.”
It didn’t seem self-aware—only attacking by instinct.
“Expected,” Chen Su said.
With the center’s rotten feng shui and business, there should be plenty of them.
The countdown on the HUD ticked fast. Without clues, it was nearly impossible. Chen Su could gather ghosts by area—but the risk would be high.
Yuan Nianshu said, “President, there…”
They had just reached the standard lap pool. The water was suddenly full of dense shadows. They seemed to be racing from one end to the other. After one lap, the first to turn back climbed ashore.
It looked at the two on the tile and beckoned.
The others swam on; after another lap, another climbed out. Their speed grew faster and faster…
Each ghost’s feet were absurdly large, leaving wet prints along the tiles as they marched straight toward the women.
In a blink, the air around the adult pool fogged. Each step from the water ghost crossed three or four meters.
…
Thud—thud—their steps boomed.
Downstairs, busy at work, Zhou Qi’an glanced up. Something seemed to be rumbling in the ceiling.
“As long as it doesn’t fall.”
He couldn’t spare attention for upstairs. He kept working the lock. The corroded safety door popped with a light pry and swung inward.
The locked area was the indoor themed artificial diving pool.
It lay several zhang ahead. No safety equipment anywhere. It looked long out of service.
He had already checked the children’s pool and instruction pool—no anomalies.
He’d expected that.
Those two were shallow and low-risk. He’d only swung by because they were along the way.
Bzz.
His phone rang.
He hesitated, then decided to answer before diving. “Hello.”
“It’s me.” Chen Su’s voice came, breathless—likely mid-chase. “Water ghosts in the pools. Try not to leave footprints. Otherwise it’ll chase you fast.”
She knew, too, that was easier said than done.
They’d just showered; the pool humidity was heavy; and drops were falling from above in sporadic plinks.
“No problem,” Zhou Qi’an said. “I’ll just jump in.”
On the other end, Chen Su tried to respond, but after an “I jump,” the call ended.
“…”
There were more water ghosts in the pool.
·
It was dark underwater. Zhou Qi’an swam straight ahead. He knew the water had bigger problems—but he had to adapt.
Even a rough indoor diving pool had minimum depth and width; there was room to move.
His evolved body could withstand the pressure. The only headache was oxygen. The countdown ticked relentlessly; each stroke was a step closer to death.
It was broader than expected, with caves and artificial features—black everywhere. Often he could only see vague shapes.
In the gloom, a light flickered.
He edged closer—and bumped an invisible glass barrier.
It was an underwater glass lounge. Fixed tables and chairs inside. At the center, something flashed… He squinted—someone was shaking a rescue light.
The battery was low; thus the flicker.
Just as he saw it clearer, the light flared, stabbing his eyes. Worse, his wrist scraped on some underwater feature—blood forced out under pressure.
Realizing something, he kicked hard and darted aside. Almost simultaneously, a deformed monster appeared where he had been. Another just like it was inside the lounge.
Reeking fluid dripped from exposed gums. Zhou Qi’an cursed inwardly.
Even monsters used tactics now?
One decoyed; the other struck.
Luckily, they were quantity over quality—weak.
Back-pedaling, his white ribbon billowed in the water with him, tightening around one monster’s neck.
He ripped a strip from his shirt to bind the cut, then lunged for the lounge entry. With a crack of the cane, he staggered the inside monster—and snatched the rescue light.
Clean execution.
Monster: ?
No prompt sounded—this area’s water was fine.
He couldn’t last long. Using the light, he scanned around. More monsters were gathering. The water temperature plunged.
“That doesn’t fit…” By threat level, this should have been the prime sampling spot. As he hesitated, the light fell across something. He caught it—unlike the other caves, this one was more of a whirlpool, swallowing the flow—and bottomless.
Before the monsters could ring him in, he recalled the ribbon and swam toward it, teeth clenched.
Close now—momentum nearly carried him through. His head was swimming from lack of air. When he finally saw the truth, his last breath nearly fled.
It wasn’t a cave at all—it was a giant mouth. A body like a blind eel, but dozens of times thicker. No features—just a maw of teeth. As the outflow from between its teeth washed over him, the system chimed—
[Boy, you’re about to be poisoned to death.]
Filthy fluid, breathed in and out, flooded the pool floor.
This was it—the source of the viral contamination.
He forced himself to hold on and took out the sampling bottle. The eel gaped first—one inhale—and all the sediment funneled into its mouth.
Lucky he’d anchored the ribbon the instant he spotted it—one end to a fake rock, the other to his waist—or he’d have been eel tea.
The toxin was vicious. When he tried to lift his arm, agony shot up it.
No time to worry—he filled the bottle fast and kicked for the surface.
The eel gulped again. Finding no prey after closing, it raged—rolled and heaved, raising wave after wave as it chased.
Starved of air, Zhou Qi’an moved on instinct. Power in his legs drove him upward—but suction roared behind again. At the last second his hand closed on cold metal—the pool ladder.
He clamped down and surged up, dragging himself out, dripping, wrecked.
For several seconds, he lay curled like a fish, gasping.
After a few deep breaths, he looked at his arm. Half of it was purple-red. He kneaded gently to ease the stiffness, praying his body would dilute the poison.
No rest—bubbles rose at the surface. Soon the kind of monster Chen Su mentioned would be following wet footprints to him.
He forced himself up and checked the HUD.
[Prompt: You have successfully collected the sample.]
[Countdown 00:08:45]
A rinse, checking two pools, in and out of the themed diving pool—nearly half the time was gone.
He grabbed his phone. No unread messages. Shen Zhiyi must not be done—he’d have contacted him first.
He texted Chen Su: [Found the bones yet?]
About ten seconds later: [We’ve got a lead.]
He wrung his hair. As a monster broke the surface, he moved. This time he called: “Is there a broadcasting room?”
“First room at the corner on 2F, you—”
He hung up and ran, legs rubbery but moving.
Behind him, many strange silhouettes formed and chased along the trail of droplets his feet left.
Speed—he had plenty. He could clear three or four meters in a bound. At a corner he kicked over a bucket to smear the prints, then swung ahead with the ribbon, and kept going—charging into the stairwell at last.
The dark stairs were littered with frozen monster remains. Chen Su’s team must have just passed.
Convenient. He tore up to the second floor and turned into a small room.
The door wasn’t locked. It was used for paging and safety announcements.
“Whew.”
Power on. Mic live. He drew a breath—then a slightly husky, breathy voice filled the swimming center:
“Manager of Pool No. 33—are you there?”
“Are you there—”
“Here’s the thing. Not long ago, I was invited to kill the Other-Experience Hall’s director.” As he spoke, he fished out the hall key and brushed it against the mic.
Metal chittered. He went on, “I’m the new director now.”
The broadcast echoed infinitely in the empty center; in places it even bounced back.
Mid-hunt, Chen Su froze. Behind her, Yuan Nianshu was stunned.
“H-he… what is he saying?”
Chen Su’s mind turned fast. She thought first of Zhou Qi’an deliberately locking up the hall when they regrouped that night.
“Is this why the newspaper boss flipped?”
But why announce it now? If it were her, she’d bury a boon like that deep.
Elsewhere, on the third floor, Shen Zhiyi and the old man heard it too.
Sixth Master, who had been studying a crawlspace to the manager’s office, nearly fell.
Shen Zhiyi glanced up at a ceiling speaker as that coaxing voice continued:
“All right, that’s all.”
“Manager, goodbye… no—never see you again, bye~”
In the broadcast room—
With a small flourish, Zhou Qi’an spun and sprinted for the exit, texting his boss en route: [Please cover.]
The ambient temperature was five or six degrees lower than on entry. Droplets fell faster from the ceiling—pale blue, faintly corrosive.
He didn’t look back. This mission was impossible in twenty minutes.
The manager was very likely in his office. Getting the report required waiting for him to leave; forcing it early would likely trip a death rule.
Finding a corpse would take even longer.
“Ghosts are greedy.”
With management rights in a human’s hands, the manager wouldn’t resist the bait. If Zhou Qi’an left, acting like he’d never return—no way the manager would hold back.
And if he couldn’t…
He’d leave early, then kill Zhou Qi’an and take the rights.
The chemical reek gnawed at his lungs. The humidity wasn’t overwhelming yet. He ran faster—but something was faster still: the endlessly growing hair.
Out of cracks, ceiling, floor—everywhere—aiming at his skin. Many pool monsters had climbed ashore.
He outran the monsters. Though a half-beat behind the hair, not all of it stabbed for him. Much of it sluiced into the corridor he’d crossed and sealed the door.
He snorted. He saw through the manager’s plan at a glance.
Trap him inside, then harvest when twenty minutes hit.
Clever plan—but his boss didn’t eat idle meals.
Boom!
A thunderous kick from outside. Hair speared through the cracks like steel wire at the intruder. Zhou Qi’an couldn’t see, but all the hair in the drains suddenly went taut—someone outside had grabbed it.
Szz—ah—
It was like he heard the hair scream.
The surging mass was ripped apart by force. The blocked door yawned open again.
Light was a few strides away. If he crossed the corridor, he’d be out—when a vast shadow covered him from above. A core-stabbing chill gnawed up his back.
“You came…”
In the middle of a ragged dash, Zhou Qi’an smiled. Out before twenty minutes, and moving to kill before any player broke a rule.
Five-star instances—each task more shameless than the last. A twenty-minute countdown; a manager who patrols every twenty minutes—the manager himself was the nastiest death rule.
There wasn’t enough time, so he’d fight dirty.
If the gap in strength is too big—lure the enemy into breaking rules first, put you on the same starting line. He’d used that exact trick on Xun Er.
Best case—he’d kill the manager with a holy item. Failing that—if he got wounded, the rules would slash the manager’s power, and his boss could twist off his head with one hand.
And the mole…
Once Zhou Qi’an had two shop rights—would he hold back?
His eyes flashed. The smile deepened.
“All fish die of greed.”
Shark them all.
__
Author’s Note:
Zhou Qi’an: Sitting steady on the angler’s platform.
Shen Zhiyi (tilting head, baiting): You are not a fish—how do you know the joy of fish?
