In the distance, the fire had been extinguished, leaving only thick, rolling smoke.
The young man stood before Mr. Si with an eager-to-please expression, weaving his lies into a tight cocoon while keeping part of his mind on the stakeout inside the villa.
Hopefully, that spider’s many eyes weren’t just for show.
The fury on Mr. Si’s terrifying rabbit face faded slightly. He didn’t fully believe Zhou Qi’an’s words, but he hadn’t found any major flaws in them either. And as a game staff member, even if he did see through the lies, he couldn’t immediately kill Zhou Qi’an.
In the silent standoff, a large hand suddenly patted Zhou Qi’an’s shoulder, brushing off some ash.
His body stiffened slightly.
Then, Mr. Si placed both hands on his shoulders, his long, sharp claws hovering as if they could pierce his skin at any moment. “Good child, fires are common in the mountains. You don’t have to take all the responsibility on yourself.”
Zhou Qi’an’s heart, which had been hanging by a thread, finally settled.
He understood—they had reached a tacit agreement.
By directly pointing out Mr. Si’s intentions and proving his willingness to do whatever it took to help him get the treasure, Zhou Qi’an had temporarily secured his life.
Mr. Si said, “I had to put out the fire earlier, so I couldn’t focus on other things.”
Then, shifting the topic, he added, “But as long as you follow the process, you’ll eventually have a chance to reach the heart of the treasure.”
The implication was obvious.
Zhou Qi’an caught the underlying message.
Now, he had to prove his sincerity by locating Xun the Wealthy’s heirloom again—otherwise, the price for his deception would be doubled, or even worse.
“I’ll do my best,” Zhou Qi’an promised.
As for what ulterior motives lay beneath those words—no one could see them.
A strange thought suddenly crossed his mind.
That five-star fish eye was now embedded in his heart—could it sense his scheming? Or perhaps even his emotions?
Zhou Qi’an quickly shook his head, inwardly sighing at how absurd his own thoughts had become.
The two turned back toward the villa, walking side by side—or rather, with a noticeable height difference between them.
Zhou Qi’an took one last glance behind him, confirming that the Rabbit Bus had indeed vanished.
But he didn’t dwell on it. Nothing in this instance could be explained with common sense—maybe once everything was settled, it would simply reappear.
Inside the Villa.
Xun the Wealthy sat in the grand hall, his face twisted in rage.
He was always angry—an embodiment of mindless fury and perpetual discontent.
So, he didn’t die in the explosion after all.
Not surprising.
Since the blast had been set off in the kitchen, Zhou Qi’an glanced over—now, there was only a gaping black hole. The outer walls had been badly damaged, and smoke from the forest fire was still drifting inside.
Xun Er was nowhere to be seen.
Being the last player to enter, Zhou Qi’an immediately felt Xun the Wealthy’s scrutinizing gaze lock onto him. His bulging eyes practically stuck to Zhou Qi’an’s body.
“Where have you been?”
Zhou Qi’an’s thick hair was still dusted with black soot. Gasping for breath, he replied, “With the stone carving—just finished putting out the fire.”
His expression wavered between lingering panic and relief, blending into the perfect image of someone who had barely escaped disaster.
The other players watching almost began to doubt whether someone else had set the fire instead.
Mr. Si gave a slight nod, and only then did some of Xun the Wealthy’s suspicion fade.
So the game staff could lie.
Zhou Qi’an figured it wasn’t exactly lying—at the very least, it confirmed that they could use body language to mislead others. It seemed he’d need to be more cautious in the future to avoid falling into any wordplay traps set by staff members.
“This fire started so suddenly,” Xun the Wealthy muttered, stuffing a handful of small white pills into his mouth. The veins on his hands bulged as he clenched his fists. “Do you all know what needs to be done next?”
Zhou Qi’an: “Rebuild our home.”
“Idiot! Of course, we need to find the arsonist.”
“Whoever it was…” Xun the Wealthy stood up, leaning heavily on his dragon-headed cane.
He slammed it twice against the floor. “It must have been one of you.”
He had lived here for so long without issue, and yet, ever since these people arrived, strange things kept happening.
The walls of the hall were blackened with soot, but even that was nothing compared to the darkness on Xun the Wealthy’s face. He let out a cold laugh. “All of you, follow me.”
Mr. Si remained at the entrance, continuing his duties as a stone carving, while the other players exchanged glances before following Xun the Wealthy upstairs.
The fire hadn’t spread too deep into the house, but the wooden stairs had become brittle from the heat. Every step felt like they might collapse beneath their feet, making them instinctively hurry up to the third floor.
“Where’s Xun Er?” Zhou Qi’an asked at the right moment.
Xun the Wealthy dismissed the question. “Probably cleaning up the basement.”
The third floor had been the least affected by the fire.
After Zhou Qi’an had completed the incense-offering task, the statue’s face had become a melted, distorted mess. Players seeing it for the first time couldn’t help but twitch at the sight.
…It looks way too sinister. It might as well have “I have a secret” written across its face.
Especially its abdomen—there was now a barely visible crack, making it seem even more ominous.
Xun the Wealthy narrowed his murky eyes at them. “All of you, come forward and swear! Say that you had nothing to do with this fire, or else…”
He let out a wicked laugh. “You will all die miserable deaths.”
The air turned chilling in an instant.
No one rushed forward to prove their innocence. Swearing an oath in front of such a disturbing statue made everyone uneasy.
The college student tried to keep his gaze from darting around, but he still couldn’t help sneaking a glance at Zhou Qi’an—only to find that the real arsonist didn’t look the least bit nervous.
Then, Zhou Qi’an suddenly spoke first. “Actually…”
Xun the Wealthy’s sharp gaze locked onto him.
“I have a suspect.”
Everyone tensed, worried that he was about to throw them under the bus.
“Speak!” Xun the Wealthy barked.
Zhou Qi’an hesitated before saying, “The arsonist might not even be one of us. I suspect… it was a woman. The first night we arrived, I woke up in the middle of the night and saw a strange woman standing near my bed. She was terrifying…”
He raised a hand as if swearing an oath. “I can swear in front of the statue—I’m not lying. I really saw her.”
Then, lowering his hand, he added, “I didn’t mention it before because I was worried that, given your age, it might be too much of a shock.”
Han Li stepped forward. “He’s right. I also saw an unfamiliar woman.”
She made the same oath.
The college student quickly followed suit. “M-Me too… Xun Er saw her as well. When we were searching for the statue, there was a strange woman lying in one of the beds.”
Technically, they weren’t all talking about the same thing.
Zhou Qi’an had been referring to the female ghost.
Han Li and the college student had been referring to Zhou Qi’an’s mother.
But right now, all of them were simply lumped together under the vague term “that woman.”
Zhou Qi’an pulled a miserable face, looking utterly pathetic. “Could it be a ghost? That woman was radiating resentment. Two nights ago, I was almost strangled to death. I was so scared that I ran downstairs to sleep…”
He covered his face with one hand, as if trying to hide tears of humiliation. Through the gaps between his fingers, only one cold eye peeked out, locking onto Xun the Wealthy.
“Have you ever seen a ghost like that before?”
Zhou Qi’an didn’t believe for a second that Xun the Wealthy was completely unaware of the female ghost’s existence.
The ghost had said she couldn’t take revenge on him—but that meant she had at least tried. Otherwise, why would she have failed?
The real question was, how did this old man—whose memory seemed to come and go—manage to keep his logic intact?
Xun the Wealthy’s deeply wrinkled face twitched slightly, as if recalling something. Some of the anger he had directed at the players lessened.
But his tone remained firm. “Nonsense! There are no ghosts here!”
Zhou Qi’an edged closer, lowering his voice to sound more persuasive. “Are you sure? We’re all on the same side, and nearly everyone here has seen her. That means there’s a high chance she’s real.”
“We should work together—or maybe even find an exorcist.”
Xun the Wealthy’s expression flickered several times. Finally, gripping the dragon head on his cane, he took a deep breath and said, “I’ve never seen a ghost. But…”
At that word, everyone’s ears perked up.
“There was a time when I was… pressed down in my sleep. Like what people call sleep paralysis…” Xun the Wealthy racked his brain, his face flashing with a hint of pain. “In the dream, there was a woman… and the sound of a child crying…”
His eyes widened. “I can’t remember the details. My head hurts…”
He started pounding his fist against his own skull.
Zhou Qi’an hurriedly stopped him.
Not because he was worried about the old man hurting himself, but because he really didn’t want Xun the Wealthy to remember something crucial and expose his identity on the spot.
That would be a classic case of trying to steal a chicken and ending up losing the rice instead.
Xun the Wealthy shoved Zhou Qi’an’s hand away, then pointed his cane at the air and cursed, “Ghosts, demons—it doesn’t matter! As long as the statue and the family heirloom remain, whoever is behind this fire will pay the price!”
After venting his rage, he respectfully bowed several times to the statue, then stormed back into his room without another word.
The players exchanged looks.
Then, the door suddenly swung open again, and Xun the Wealthy’s head popped out.
“Get lost! Don’t disturb my rest!”
His gaze landed on Han Li. His expression softened slightly, belatedly realizing that his “wife” had been locked outside too.
So, he opened the door just enough to let her in.
Han Li resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
Staying alone in a room with an enraged old man was definitely not ideal.
But remembering the heirloom he had mentioned, she decided it was worth the risk to investigate further.
The rest of the players quickly headed downstairs.
Zhou Qi’an took a moment to check his status panel.
The group fishing mission now had an additional note:
【Due to force majeure, this mission will restart once Xun the Wealthy’s anger subsides and he remembers it.】
Well, that meant keeping Xun the Wealthy angry for as long as possible.
After experiencing the thick smoke from the fire, everyone’s throats were uncomfortable. Chen Jian and the others went to find water, while Zhou Qi’an returned to his room, waiting for the multi-eyed spider to report back.
However, before the spider arrived, there was a knock on the door.
“Come in.”
Zhou Qi’an glanced at the college student who entered. “This door was basically useless anyway.”
The college student gave an awkward smile.
Xun Er had broken the lock, so now anyone could push the door open and walk in.
Zhou Qi’an’s room faced the lake, and the smoke and fire damage here was worse than in the other rooms.
“If you have something to say, say it quickly.” He didn’t know when the multi-eyed spider would arrive, and he didn’t want anyone else in the room when it did.
The college student hesitated before asking, “The female ghost that appeared in Xun the Wealthy’s dream—is she his real wife?”
Gathering crucial information could help them clear the instance.
Zhou Qi’an glanced at him. At least he has some intelligence.
He didn’t intend to hide any information about the instance—he had already exchanged intel with the veteran players. So, he nodded. “Yes.”
The college student speculated further. “Then… was their death related to Xun the Wealthy?”
Otherwise, why would his wife haunt his dreams?
“I don’t know how his wife died, but the kid was definitely raised as a ghost servant to bring him wealth.”
The college student’s face showed shock. He had heard of people raising ghost children, but that usually involved adopting the spirits of children who had died young.
For the first time, he cursed under his breath.
“Xun the Wealthy is a real monster,” he said heavily. “His wife and child… they were too pitiful.”
Zhou Qi’an’s expression was indifferent. That little ghost had literally screamed about skinning and eating me, and nearly succeeded. I don’t care how tragic its backstory is—anyone who tries to devour me, I’ll make sure to eliminate first.
“Well, at least the female ghost is useful to us—she took the blame for the fire.”
The college student hesitated. “If Xun the Wealthy dies… do you think his wife’s spirit will regain her sanity?”
As soon as he finished speaking, he saw Zhou Qi’an looking at him like he was some kind of rare panda.
After a long pause, Zhou Qi’an let out a short laugh, as if he had just heard a ridiculous joke. “I’m going to rest. If you have nothing else to do, go explore the villa and look for clues. Stop thinking about exorcisms.”
Multiple player teams had already been wiped out before them.
Zhou Qi’an didn’t know whether the woman and child had been pitiful while they were alive, but based on what the female ghost had said, it was clear she had been consuming people to grow stronger.
“If anything, the best outcome would be finding a way to make the ghost completely lose her sanity and drag Xun the Wealthy down with her.”
The more injured the ghost was, the easier it would be for the players to escape unharmed.
The college student opened his mouth but didn’t speak.
Something about that felt… wrong. A woman whose child had been killed by her husband, now being used as a tool after death—it just didn’t sit right with him.
Zhou Qi’an noticed the unease on the young man’s face. He stepped forward and asked, “Do you know what a dominant culture is?”
Instinctively, the college student replied, “Compared to a subordinate culture, a dominant culture is one that is deeply rooted in self-reliance… It demands adherence to the laws of nature…”
Zhou Qi’an: “…”
The college student scratched his head, embarrassed. “I wrote an essay on that topic once, so I looked it up.”
His memory was excellent.
Zhou Qi’an looked thoughtful. “So you’re not completely useless after all.”
Realizing that the college student might have some value, he decided to say a little more:
“I’ll remind you—take whatever concepts you understand and twist them a hundred times over. That’s the worldview of ghosts in this instance. They’re dead. No matter how they died, dead is dead.”
“Once they become ghosts, they start following the instance’s rules for killing.”
For the first time, the eyes behind Zhou Qi’an’s glasses gleamed with open cruelty. “The first priority is making sure the living stay alive.”
The college student froze.
He finally understood—no matter how much he had disapproved of Zhou Qi’an’s ‘kill the wife’ choice when they first met, everything the man had done since entering the instance was aimed squarely at dealing with NPCs.
Zhou Qi’an dismissed him.
The college student walked out in a daze, replaying Zhou Qi’an’s last words in his mind—
“In front of ghosts, your heart better be as cold as frozen fish.”
Hearing an unnatural noise outside the window, Zhou Qi’an quickly cut off the college student’s misplaced sympathy.
The multi-eyed spider crawled down the wall from above.
It seemed to have a lot to complain about, but Zhou Qi’an, still feeling the effects of inhaling smoke from the fire, had little patience for his fiancée spider. “Get to the point.”
“I know where the heirloom treasure is.”
Zhou Qi’an’s hand, which had been massaging his temple, paused.
“It’s beneath the statue. Move the incense burner, and there’s a hidden door. The material is special—it needs a key to open. Xun the Wealthy’s luck protects him, so I couldn’t get close. I also searched his room, but I didn’t find the key.”
Zhou Qi’an: “Could he be carrying it with him at all times?”
The multi-eyed spider shook its head, making its many eyes roll wildly. “Unlikely. After the fire, he went back to his room before coming downstairs to yell. Before leaving, he double-checked that the door was locked.”
Zhou Qi’an tapped his fingers against the windowsill. “Xun the Wealthy is paranoid and distrustful. Getting him to spill anything won’t be easy… Xun Er… He treats him like a servant.”
Summon when needed, dismiss when done.
Xun the Wealthy probably wouldn’t tell Xun Er where he kept the key.
Wait.
There was someone who might know.
His wife.
Some secrets can’t be hidden from one’s own spouse. No matter how brutally their relationship had ended, there had been a time when they both desperately wanted a child—so much so that they were willing to worship an evil god for it.
During those bloodstained years, there had been a period when they were deeply in love.
Xun the Wealthy wouldn’t have kept the key a secret from her from the very beginning.
The multi-eyed spider also chimed in, “His long-dead wife might know.”
Where would the female ghost be now?
Zhou Qi’an had tested it earlier—after the schedule vanished, she and the little ghost had left his room.
The little ghost liked hiding under beds, so it had to be in some room.
Han Li had sensed something was wrong with her room on the first night, and Han Tiansheng certainly would too.
That ruled out both of them.
Same for Chen Jian.
The college student was timid and stuck close to Han Tiansheng—so that ruled out his room as well.
Which left only one place.
The room of the deceased Wang Mu.
—
“Gulp, gulp, gulp…”
The college student chugged down a large amount of water after coming downstairs, only to choke on it. “Cough! Cough…“
His expression was complicated. “Could I really have been wrong?”
Han Tiansheng and Chen Jian happened to be passing by on their way upstairs.
Han Tiansheng sneered, “Water isn’t alcohol. You can’t drink yourself drunk. What’s gotten into you?”
The college student set down his cup, hesitated multiple times, then finally followed them upstairs, recounting his conversation with Zhou Qi’an.
“He said that in front of ghosts, my heart should be as cold as frozen fish.”
Han Tiansheng said indifferently, “That’s actually a reasonable statement.”
College Student: “…”
“Showing mercy to ghosts is cruelty to yourself. No matter when or where, empathizing with them is the most foolish form of suicide—”
The words abruptly stopped.
Chen Jian, who was walking ahead, suddenly raised his hand.
Han Tiansheng and the college student immediately fell silent.
A faint, intermittent sound drifted from the second floor.
The three of them lightened their steps as they ascended. Chen Jian even took out a tool, prepared to deal with a ghost ambush at the corner.
Yet under broad daylight, there were no ghostly shadows—only a young man standing humbly outside Wang Mu’s room.
At that moment, he was politely knocking on the door.
“Are you there, Ghost Sister?”
When Wang Mu died, the door had been locked, so Zhou Qi’an had no choice but to stand outside, shamelessly saying, “Xun the Wealthy is truly a beast. You and your child suffered so much. I originally wanted to burn him alive, hoping it would lift your regrets and restore your sanity—help you find the person you used to be.”
As he spoke, his expression turned to one of deep sorrow and regret.
“But I failed.”
“…I’ve let you down.”
“Thinking about your suffering makes me feel terrible.”
Zhou Qi’an bent at the waist, bowing nearly ninety degrees.
—
Behind the corner.
The college student’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor.
Isn’t this basically the same thing I said earlier?!
Back then, Zhou Qi’an had scolded him for being naive—so why was he now putting on this completely different face?
And also…
Why is he calling her ‘Ghost Sister’?
That sycophantic tone reminded the college student of those exaggerated portrayals in TV dramas—young men desperate to curry favor with wealthy capitalists.
Chen Jian’s expression was just as complicated. He turned and asked, “What did you say he told you earlier?”
“…That in front of ghosts, your heart should be as cold as frozen fish?”
Cold as frozen fish?
This wasn’t frozen fish—it was fish being simmered in a boiling pot, warm enough to melt the Earth’s core.
Under their watchful gazes, the tightly shut door remained unyielding. Clearly, Zhou Qi’an had failed to move the ghost’s heart.
He straightened his back and lightly cleared his throat.
Turning around, he spotted the three of them at the corner. Zhou Qi’an awkwardly coughed twice, as if pretending nothing had happened.
College Student: “You—”
Zhou Qi’an chose to ignore him and used the sound of the door closing to block out whatever shocked words might follow.
Once the door—useless as it was—was shut, he casually dragged a chair over to prop it up.
Three visits to the thatched cottage.
This was only the first.
He walked over to the desk and pressed a hidden switch with his fingertip.
The tape recorder clicked on.
The door-knocking had merely been to draw attention—he hadn’t expected the ghost to show herself immediately. But now that he had made a sufficient show of goodwill, he moved on to Plan B.
Soft music played first, setting the stage, before suddenly taking a sharp plunge—like a waterfall cascading downward. Blood seeped freely across the floor.
Everything was just as it had been the first time he played the music.
However, this time, only the floor was stained with blood. The walls remained pristine and untouched.
This meant the killing intent had lessened.
Having just set a fire, Zhou Qi’an leaned back in the chair against the door. Seeing this change, he smirked.
“Sister, how about giving me a chance?”
I went through all the trouble of blowing up your house—shouldn’t this family heirloom finally be passed down to me?
ZQA is truly shameless 😆 Thank you for the chapter!