ICSST CH112: Appearance on Stage

At Flower Ancient Bus Station.

After one bus drove away, the number of vehicles stopping at the station kept increasing. The sky, which stayed clear for no more than three seconds, turned misty, and then a light rain began to fall.

As if they had no individual will, the travelers all changed into a different set of clothes. The mourning clothes were gone—now they all wore identical work uniforms, each holding a small notebook, pupils flickering with a ghostly red light, just like surveillance cameras.

Players never stopped moving just because one person went missing. Whoever disappeared was simply assumed dead. When it came to Zhou Qi’an, players generally felt complicated—hoping he lived, but wishing he’d die.

After the funeral procession left, the players moving in the wild faced less danger.

Xia Zhi and Bertram returned alive, but unlike Mother Zhou and her group, they were far from composed—their old wounds hadn’t yet healed, and new ones had been added.

“Dead is fine too.” Xia Zhi’s expression was complicated when he heard that Zhou Qi’an had been taken away by the bus.

After all, the final slots were very limited.

Zhou Qi’an’s initial understanding of this instance was: a group of top players had divined that there was treasure inside, so they took the risk willingly.

In reality, that was slightly off the truth.

Those players had received an invitation letter from the game.

On the first line, written in gold leaf, it said:

“Only provided to players with [Aptitude].”

“Holding this invitation letter grants you direct access to Instance [44814]. The invitation will provide you with certain entry advantages.

After the instance ends, you will have the chance to directly evolve your cerebellum and obtain ≥ 2 rare items. Even if you die within the instance, you may still have a chance at reversal in the future.

Friendly reminder: the fewer survivors when the instance ends, the higher the probability of obtaining all rewards.

Slots are limited—fight desperately for your survival!”

High risk, high reward—but with so many benefits laid out, no player could resist.

It turned out the invitation’s claims were true. The bus terminal, which was nearly impossible for ordinary players to find, was much easier for them. Once they entered Provincial Highway 417, a side quest automatically activated. Complete it, and you could reach the terminal.

If Zhou Qi’an had known all this, he would have cursed again: Idiots.

Invitation letter?

It was clearly a “staff seed tag” branded onto certain players by the game.

The benefits were real, yes—but you had to survive to collect them.

At this moment, the sixth act had already begun. And once again, the act opened with the pocket watch—only this time, the players were the protagonists.

“Congratulations on triggering Chiming Clock Act Six: [The Mysterious Bus]

Plot summary and character roles have been distributed. Please check carefully.

Plot summary: After filming the Wooden Man scene, you discovered that the precious pocket watch had an extraordinary origin. It was once the prize awarded by the King of Drama himself to the bus victim who won the Best Acting Award.

No one could resist the temptation of becoming tomorrow’s star—nor could you.

After several rehearsals, you confidently sought out Ms. Qi, the person in charge. She told you that to become tomorrow’s star, besides intelligence and strength, essential skills are also required.

For example—everyone who comes to the bus terminal must learn to drive. You decide to study The Driver’s Instruction Manual and obtain a license.”

When they heard they had to take a driving test, the college student’s soul nearly left his body.

Zhou Qi’an had once personally told him about what happened in the school infirmary. More than anyone, the student knew exactly what this meant.

Just as Zhou had feared back then—the game had indeed branded them.

He glanced around. The other players didn’t seem to realize it.

Suddenly, the student’s expression changed drastically.

Where was Shen Zhiyi? He had clearly been standing right here just a moment ago.

---

Inside the church.

The floor was covered in water stains from struggling. The priest, tortured beyond recognition, was now imprisoned within the very place he had once used to judge and kill others.

After kidnapping the thief, Shen Zhiyi had also kidnapped the priest—keeping him as backup.

“You…” The priest’s murky eyes stared at him. Shadows repeatedly pushed his head into the holy water. He no longer had the strength to wonder why Shen Zhiyi was here.

Shen Zhiyi bent down, his gray-white pupils locking onto him, a terrifying emptiness within.

The priest desperately arched backward, trying to gain distance.

“Chiming Clock has been performed more than once, hasn’t it?” Shen Zhiyi’s voice was calm and steady as he squeezed the priest’s throat. “Have there ever been actors who disappeared?”

Not long ago, his perception of the Nightmare’s Heart had weakened.

He could no longer locate Zhou Qi’an. The bus terminal felt like it was blocked by an invisible barrier, preventing him from going too far.

The priest trembled violently. Long-term torture had left his mind on the verge of collapse. Hoarsely, he forced out: “Casting couch… casting couch…”

The clue after Act Three had said: the King of Drama had a history of “casting couch” scandals—more than once.

This wasn’t counted as a spoiler, so the priest wasn’t punished by the rules.

But it made little difference. From prolonged near-drowning, his nose kept bleeding, blood smeared all over his face.

Shen Zhiyi’s narrow eyes squinted dangerously. “You mean—the King of Drama forcibly takes away talented actors?”

The priest nodded in terror.

After that, no matter how Shen Zhiyi pressed him, he refused to say anything else. Only when pushed to the extreme did he gasp out two words: “Time… time…”

Realizing he could learn nothing more, Shen Zhiyi released him and stood up.

The priest’s head slumped sideways—he had fainted.

Shen Zhiyi’s cold expression twisted into something strange.

A director wouldn’t “cast couch” actors he hated. Judging from the King of Drama’s behavior, it looked more like a kind of admiration or fixation.

“Time, huh…”

Did it mean that only after a certain time could the King of Drama actually enforce the casting couch? Or was he using time to set a trap?

From what he could tell, the difficulty of Act Six wasn’t high. Shen Zhiyi, as always, tried to think like the monster. The King of Drama seemed eager to fast-forward to Act Seven.

“When the play ends, there must be a curtain call. If not taken in time, perhaps one would be trapped in the theater forever.”

Shen Zhiyi thought for a moment, then pried open the pocket watch.

With bloodied fingers, he turned the hands backwards.

An unseen force resisted him. Two forces collided, the hand retreated slightly, but quickly snapped back to its original place.

Yet Shen Zhiyi kept at it tirelessly, repeating the same action.

The razor-sharp hands sliced open his fingers again and again, and still, Shen Zhiyi suddenly laughed.

When this was all over, he would grind the King of Drama’s bones into needles.

---

[00:12:30]

On the fourth floor of the theater, Zhou Qi’an, who had been silent due to a repair notice, froze again.

What—this countdown could actually grow longer?

With no time to think, he rushed forward and shoved open the door at top speed.

The door opened far too easily.

What kind of self-deception was this?

Behind it sat a woman tied up like a rice dumpling, a rag stuffed in her mouth, cheeks bulging like a goldfish. Her muffled cries for help were choked by the gag.

Not only was the door unlocked, but they hadn’t even bothered to conceal the hostage—yet somehow, the NPCs had been fooled.

Zhou Qi’an lunged forward in a flash.

In her hopeful gaze, he raised his Little Hammer—and aimed it at her temple.

“……”

“Good morning, Miss Thief. I can let you go.”

The woman, shocked that the just detective had turned into a thug with a hammer, could only seize upon his words as hope of escape.

Intimidation saved a great deal of time on talking.

Zhou Qi’an: “Do you know the code to the King of Drama’s home?”

She only hesitated for a second before the cold hammer pressed harder against her temple. She nodded frantically.

Zhou Qi’an pressed his lips together. He could imagine the deep psychological scars Shen Zhiyi must have left on this thief.

To be hidden away in a bustling theater, unnoticed by anyone, life draining from you bit by bit—this was true torment.

“I sympathize with your suffering.” Zhou Qi’an said briskly, wrenching her arm.

It didn’t hurt, but the thief immediately realized her shoulder had been dislocated.

Time was short. No chance, no time to search her body. Zhou Qi’an remembered well her carefree exit after the first act.

If he untied her, she’d definitely slip away.

And he had no interest in wasting time outwitting a liar.

He pulled out the rag, quickly loosened the ropes. “Now take me to the King of Drama’s residence.”

[00:11:12]

Zhou Qi’an noticed that time was flowing slower.

Maybe Shen Zhiyi had done something.

“Good.”

That left him more time to work with.

He tied one end of a white rope around both their waists, fixed the other end inside the building, and leapt down with her.

The cold wind roared past. The thief’s face turned pale as death.

The impact was nothing to his evolved legs. Zhou Qi’an hoisted her onto his back: “Point the way. Quickly.”

With her arm dislocated, she’d only slow him down. Carrying her was faster.

She was light, no more than eighty pounds—an occupational advantage. Her limp arm dangling over his shoulder was a reminder of his cruelty.

“Turn here,” she whispered, “go around to the back of the theater.”

Behind was a narrow, shadowy path.

Zhou Qi’an darted straight down it, muttering softly: “If I die, I’ll kill you first.”

The thief bit her lip hard. “Don’t worry.”

Yes, this was the right way.

Inside the dense woods, a young couple in love appeared. Seeing Zhou Qi’an running past, the girl shyly ducked into her boyfriend’s arms—then pulled out her phone.

So did the man.

Zhou Qi’an pushed forward through the rain.

“Damn.”

In this kind of weather, no normal person would be out there flirting. Pulling out a phone was more like passing along a warning.

During the qualification exam, the King of Drama had manipulated NPCs using a phone.

He could only run with all his strength. The Miss Thief seemed to have realized the problem too.

Beyond here was a row of houses, and residents began pouring out, surrounding them in a dark mass.

White Silk.

Zhou Qian’an silently chanted in his heart.

After leveling up, White Silk could now strangle two at once. But instead of strangling anyone, Zhou Qian’an pulled two nearby residents over and, without hesitation, smashed their heads with a hammer.

The moment blood sprayed, the footsteps of the other approaching residents faltered slightly.

Zhou Qian’an put down the Miss Thief, spent a few seconds setting her arm back into place, and at the same time, multitasked—spending 100 points in the shop to buy a cheap dagger, which he handed to her.

“Fight your way out.”

The woman, ruthless by nature, flexed her wrist a little and understood his reasoning.

They only had one chance.

It was in that instant that the residents felt fear. If they didn’t break through the encirclement with the bloodiest means possible to win time, once the residents regained their senses, they would absolutely join forces to torture them to death.

The Miss Thief moved her limbs slightly. Though exhausted, her trained body ensured her strikes were precise.

Zhou Qian’an stayed behind her, conserving his strength.

This was likely just the first layer of trouble.

“Hurry, faster.”

No need to worry about the thief playing tricks anymore—since they’d already offended the NPCs beyond repair, the only way to survive was to work together and escape the ancient city.

The countdown showed ten minutes left.

As yet another resident got a knife in the kidney, blood splattered, and the surrounding NPCs froze again.

This was it!

The two bolted for their lives.

“Shortcut, eight o’clock direction.”

Zhou Qian’an’s mouth twitched. As expected of a thief, the routes she chose were all alleyways.

If they got surrounded in such a narrow space, it’d be trouble.

“Above!” Miss Thief’s voice suddenly went shrill.

Zhou Qian’an didn’t even look up. The moment he sensed the wrongness in the air above, he pressed himself tightly against the wall.

The next second, even his vision trembled.

Flowerpots rained down from the edge of pigeon lofts like snow. Soon after, sharp quarrels of a couple erupted from the building, followed by a terrifying rain of knives.

Children shrieked and ran through stairwells, hurling bricks and tiles at each other. The scenes blended together, forming one “perfectly reasonable” storm of falling objects.

Miss Thief: “Across the street too!”

After the first failure, the opposite building switched from dropping knives to throwing them.

They were like dartboards.

Before an enemy’s blade could strike him, Zhou Qian’an stabbed himself first. A small arrow appeared in his hand out of thin air, and under the thief’s horrified gaze, he plunged it into his own kidney.

The arrow sank into flesh and vanished.

The four-star item [Arrow Nocked] was activated.

Zhou Qian’an erupted with unprecedented speed, sprinting out of the alley.

“There’s a manhole up ahead, go down.”

Zhou Qian’an hesitated.

“Trust me,” said the Miss Thief. “I don’t want to die either. The surface is crawling with people—we can only go below.”

Zhou Qian’an lifted the cover, glanced at the depth, and jumped straight down.

The woman stared, dumbfounded.

No way… you survive free fall like that?

“Hurry up.”

She pressed the button at her belt’s center, and like an airbag on a highway, protective cushions inflated around her as she leapt.

The sewers crawled with rats, the two hacking their way through.

The countdown glitched, stopping and starting, sometimes even extending, though only for a few seconds at a time.

The Miss Thief assumed Zhou Qian’an’s pale face was due to the rats and said, “We’re almost there—you see, fewer rats now.”

Zhou Qian’an noticed it too.

The bloated rats refused to go further past a certain point, as if something ahead terrified them.

The stench in the sewer was suffocating, and Zhou Qian’an nearly held his breath the whole way. The Miss Thief lagged far behind. Emerging first, Zhou Qian’an tossed down White Silk.

White Silk, ever dutiful, automatically coiled into a loop for choking.

Miss Thief: “…”

At last, she grabbed the loop and was hoisted up.

Back in the open air, less than a few dozen meters ahead, the King of Drama’s lair appeared.

Zhou Qian’an drew a deep breath and suddenly asked, “You’ve been inside before?”

The thief nodded, calm.

She’d witnessed the miraculous twin doors of the inner residence. In her line of work, even time-altering pocket watches weren’t surprising—so a space-bending “teleport door” hardly fazed her.

Speaking rapidly, she said: “I once climbed to the dome using tools, saw the King of Drama entering a code…”

Halfway through, a trident pressed against her throat.

Her face changed drastically: “You—”

Zhou Qian’an: “The code.”

She eyed him warily.

Zhou Qian’an: “I’m not sure how many people can pass after one input.”

In other words, he feared she’d use the code to escape alone.

Her eyes flickered, about to answer, when Zhou Qian’an added half-joking, half-serious: “I’ll input it first. If it’s wrong and the alarm goes off, we’re both dead.”

“…417744.”

Just like when they left, the iron gate was still open. The horrifying flowers had returned to normal.

The thief followed closely, cautious. By logic, there was no need to brandish weapons now—so why was this man still clutching a trident?

Less than six minutes remained on the clock.

This time there was no more extension, as if some unseen force had already been pushed to its limit.

Zhou Qian’an’s eyes shifted, and he said suddenly, “You’re a very good actress.”

Miss Thief: “???”

He said nothing more. “Let’s go.”

Though time was short, he didn’t immediately run.

After only a few steps past the iron door, the thief’s voice changed—like she’d seen something horrifying.

“The flowers… these flowers…”

He didn’t need her to say it. He knew.

The flowers they’d experienced before now stretched upward, unfurling leaves, sprouting human faces.

Miss Thief screamed.

Her limbs morphed into branches—some indescribable fungal plant. Fibers sprouted out of her body, drifting in the wind.

“Help me, help me!”

Strangely, she felt no pain during the mutation.

—You’re a very good actress.

His words resurfaced in her mind.

Memories blurred, overlapped, flooding back. She howled in agony.

Who was she?

“I—I’m not a thief…”

I’m an actress.

Zhou Qian’an sighed. How could the King of Drama ever tolerate someone peeking at his code? Unless she was already his “property.” Back in the rear garden, when his senses returned, he’d smelled flowers on her while carrying her.

Around that time, she too finally remembered.

She had long ago become a flower in the King of Drama’s garden.

And even earlier, before being an actress, she…

Couldn’t recall.

She only knew one thing: she no longer wanted to be a flower, forced to play roles, implanted with borrowed memories.

Her wavering gaze fell on Zhou Qian’an. Gritting her teeth, she used her drifting plant fibers to block some attacking flowers, her eyes pleading at his back, as if wanting to say something.

The floral scent spread in the damp air. Flowers all around bloomed madly. Zhou Qian’an spotted Wen Xi’s face among them.

Whatever grudges they had, Wen Xi was now fully a puppet of the King of Drama.

Without a second thought, Zhou Qian’an’s holy weapon pierced straight through the Miss Thief’s body.

She let out a muffled groan.

Retrieving the bloodied weapon, his motion was fluid. Without looking back, he ran toward the villa.

His lips whitened from blood loss, while roots and vines behind cast a suffocating darkness.

“Tha…” She tried to whisper a thank you, but he was already gone, unable to hear.

Her body fell into the garden, vines instantly seizing her corpse, devouring it as nourishment.

Ahead, Zhou Qian’an was barely three meters from the building. Just one last leap—yet a vine lashed out, piercing his shoulder.

His face paled, but his steps didn’t falter.

Behind him, Wen Xi’s attack backfired—her vine dissolving, snapping like a rotten limb, blackened stumps writhing.

Her fading thoughts grasped one truth:

So poisonous.

This man is so poisonous.

The sight even made other flowers hesitate.

With his last bit of strength, Zhou Qian’an staggered forward, reaching the door, trembling as he keyed in the code.

[417744]

[Correct code]

With a click, a door to the bus terminal slowly opened before him.

———

Bus Terminal.

Just moments ago, the sixth act had ended. Compared to the earlier ones, this was far too easy.

Most players felt it was almost dreamlike, unreal.

“Congratulations, everyone, for passing a professional skill assessment.” Miss Qi smiled as she handed out licenses.

The college student tried hard to contain his emotions, sneaking glances at Shen Zhiyi.

After Shen had mysteriously appeared, he hinted at slowing the sixth act. The student had exhausted every trick, managing only a ten-minute delay.

He couldn’t see Shen Zhiyi’s expression, as Mother Zhou happened to stand between them, muttering to herself.

The student edged closer, activated an item, and overheard—

“My precious son is gone.”

“Once you get your license, run these people over.”

“Consider them burial offerings. Then I’ll find him a corpse bride.”

The student: “!!!”

Miss Qi, oblivious to the world’s cruelty, continued with the procedure, preparing to lead them into the finale.

With one particularly annoying figure gone, even her professional smile carried genuine warmth.

“The final act…”

Just as she began, she noticed Twin-Tails’ expression change. Xia Zhi’s gaze went past her, fixed on something impossible.

Miss Qi instinctively turned, her smile replaced by shock.

Someone had appeared behind her, as if walking out of thin air. Features refined, eyes blazing.

“I’m not dead. Disappointed?”

Zhou Qian’an’s shoulder still dripped blood, but his pupils burned bright. “Go on, wasn’t this supposed to be the final act?”

“The Best Actor has arrived.”

---

Author’s Note:

Fake Mother Zhou seeing NPCs: Potential daughter-in-law.

Real Mother Zhou seeing NPCs: Sacrificial burial goods for my son.

While writing the last line, my brain randomly flashed: [Here comes your King (🌹)].