Zhou Qi’an lost his appetite and ended the meal early.
He wasn’t the first to finish.
In the game, food only served the purpose of filling one’s stomach. As long as it wasn’t disgusting, that was already considered good enough—no one wasted time savoring it.
On the other side, Red Cloak Girl elegantly wiped her lips and asked, “I’m heading somewhere. Anyone want to come along?”
The game had an interesting yet brutal rule: while the main route to clearing the game was usually fixed, important side quests were concentrated in the hands of a few players.
Zhou Qi’an had learned this the hard way in the last dungeon.
If you passively waited for others to complete the main quest, chances were you’d be dead before that happened—for any number of reasons.
This was one of the tips Han Li had summarized—a hard-learned lesson from veteran players.
Red Cloak Girl was clearly recruiting now, trying to find some disposable scouts.
Even so, some players still responded.
After all, nowhere in this place was truly safe. Everyone had their own means of survival, and if they could get closer to a key mission without much effort, taking the risk was worth considering.
In the end, a dwarf-sized player and a female player left with Red Cloak.
Zhou Qi’an paid special attention—Red Cloak pressed the button for an upward elevator.
Since they were already on the eighth floor, it was clear that Red Cloak had some clue from a side quest. There was a strong possibility she was headed for the top floor.
The college student grew anxious about someone getting there first. “Should we—”
Zhou Qi’an shook his head slightly, showing no eagerness.
He absentmindedly stirred his spoon, feeling like he had overlooked something.
The soup in his bowl rippled in irregular patterns. Suddenly, Zhou Qi’an turned to the college student. “Tell me your thoughts on this dungeon.”
The college student froze for a moment before his expression shifted to one of surprise and excitement.
Meanwhile, Mu Tianbai’s shadow writhed in an aggrieved manner.
The shadow: “……”
Why not ask them first?
Are they being outshined by an idiot now?
The college student racked his brain. “All the merchants are trapped in one place… We don’t know if they’re here out of misdirected punishment or because they deserved it. If it’s the first case, then they’re quite pitiful. But if they’re actually guilty… then the female ghost is the one who’s truly pitiful…”
Mu Tianbai, who had been silent, suddenly spoke: “Are you sympathizing with a monster?”
The college student lowered his head guiltily, staring at his nails.
Well… she was quite pitiful.
Zhou Qi’an didn’t mock him. Instead, after a brief pause, he said slowly, “That’s an interesting analysis.”
The college student had been looked down upon for so long that this sudden praise made him feel energized.
“Let’s go. Top floor.”
———
While waiting for the elevator, the metal panel reflected Baseball Cap’s silhouette.
He hadn’t left his seat, seemingly in no hurry to go anywhere. In the distorted reflection, his face appeared somewhat warped.
It wasn’t until Zhou Qi’an stepped into the elevator that Baseball Cap withdrew his gaze, which had been discreetly fixed on Zhou Qi’an’s pocket.
He stood up, walked to a nearby phone, and dialed a report line.
“Hello.”
The voice that answered was icy cold and distinct. The one picking up was the metal-limbed monster passenger from before—the manager of several upper floors.
“Hi, I’d like to report a theft in the mall’s jewelry store—committed by the one who sang on the bus. Hmm… the thief should be headed to…”
From his angle, Baseball Cap could just barely see the edge of the elevator panel.
A slow smirk curled his lips.
“Eighteenth floor.”
A perfect place to descend into hell.
———
Eighteenth Floor.
While riding the elevator, Zhou Qi’an briefly explained the errand the female ghost had given him to Mu Tianbai. He mentioned that if he succeeded, he’d share the clues with everyone.
The moment the doors opened, a strange wheeling sound echoed from outside.
All three of them instinctively froze in place, halting their steps.
Zhou Qi’an immediately pressed the ‘close door’ button—
Yet, the doors refused to shut.
The sound around the corner grew louder and louder.
Soon, a scarred, disfigured face entered their field of vision.
Zhou Qi’an recognized this face.
It was one of the monster passengers from another bus.
His ears were sewn shut with thick stitches. His neck was twice as thick as a normal person’s, as if cement or something similar had been forcibly poured inside—it had dried stiffly, leaving him unable to move fluidly.
“Ex—cuse… me.”
The muffled syllables came out in a garbled voice.
He was pushing a rolling clothing rack—one that walked on its own.
A white cloth was draped over it.
Hanging from it were two mannequins from the mall’s display windows.
Mu Tianbai was extremely bold. Without hesitation, he reached for the edge of the white cloth and lightly pulled it down.
The mannequins underneath were instantly exposed—both posed in identical running stances, their wooden bodies leaning forward in perfect unison, almost artistic in their symmetry.
“Zhou… Brother Zhou.” The college student felt like his heart was about to jump out of his chest. “The mannequins’ joints…”
The parts that should have been secured with screws were now bare white bones, still stained with fresh blood.
Zhou Qi’an had noticed this long ago.
But the joints weren’t the main issue—the expressions and features of the mannequins were.
They had eerily peaceful faces, even wearing faint smiles at the corners of their lips.
They were the two players who had followed Red Cloak upstairs earlier.
The dwarf player still had a long boot covering his lower leg, his hair disheveled. The female player, small in stature, was hung beside him in a way that somehow looked disturbingly natural.
In just a short period, their bodies had been almost entirely transformed into plastic material.
Drip. Drip.
In the half-sealed space, the sound of blood dripping from the mannequins was uncomfortably clear.
The college student desperately wanted to get away from this terrifying scene, but seeing that Zhou Qi’an and Mu Tianbai remained still, he didn’t dare move recklessly, frozen in place.
In fact, the elevator had returned to normal as soon as Scarface entered.
It was Zhou Qi’an who had been subtly holding the door open, keeping the elevator from moving.
Just as the college student couldn’t take it anymore and was about to say something, he suddenly heard a faint noise.
The next second, Zhou Qi’an moved with astonishing speed—even faster than Mu Tianbai. Before the college student could fully process what had happened, Zhou Qi’an had already swiftly grabbed something and casually stepped out of the elevator.
Mu Tianbai raised an eyebrow slightly, once again impressed by Zhou Qi’an’s reflexes.
Scarface, watching their small movements, merely eyed Zhou Qi’an up and down like a measuring ruler, let out a strange laugh, and waited for the elevator to descend.
A few steps away, Zhou Qi’an examined the item he had just caught—a small hammer, about the size of a palm.
【Little Hammer】
“Little hammer, hammer your chest!”
Usage Guide: Swinging it delivers the force of a large sledgehammer.
Quality: 2.5 stars
It was a fairly ordinary piece of equipment.
When players died, they would randomly drop items. Judging by how these two had just been pushed into the elevator, they must have died only moments ago. Zhou Qi’an had waited for a bit to see if anything would drop.
In the end, only the dwarf dropped an item—everything else had vanished somewhere unknown.
“Not great luck,” Zhou Qi’an muttered. A 2.5-star item was considered the most worthless gear for veteran players.
And he had only gotten one thing from the corpse.
The college student swallowed hard, roughly guessing what had happened.
Zhou Qi’an looked up to examine their surroundings.
The 18th floor, even during the day, relied on fluorescent tubes for lighting.
A lightproof, dome-shaped ceiling hung above them, with countless floating plants suspended by iron chains—including small cherry blossom saplings.
Despite being just saplings, their branches were unnaturally covered in dense pink blossoms.
Zhou Qi’an had heard a saying before:
The more corpses buried beneath a cherry tree, the more vibrantly it blooms.
The fragrance of these suspended plants was strange—a mix of sweetness and rot.
[Special Quest Activated]
The system notification made Zhou Qi’an pause.
The college student, curious, looked over. “What is it?”
“Nothing.”
Zhou Qi’an opened his quest panel—a red eye icon had appeared at the top, standing out just as much as the unnaturally bright flowers around them.
[Quest Deadline: Before 12:00 Noon]
[Quest Objective: Destroy the Talisman of Jinxiang Tower’s Owner]
[Warning: Players who have accepted the female ghost’s quest will naturally incur the owner’s hostility.]
The quest frame had turned a deep rust-red, looking ominously different from regular quests.
What truly unsettled Zhou Qi’an was that eye icon—as if the female ghost was staring at him at all times, sending a cold shiver through his skull.
He forced himself to ignore the discomfort.
The previous players who came up here had died almost instantly, and Red Cloak’s whereabouts were still unknown.
Now, not only did Zhou Qi’an have to survive on the 18th floor, but he also had to destroy the enemy’s protective charm while being actively hated by them—a literal hell-difficulty mission.
Yet, his anxiety didn’t last long—it was soon eerily smoothed over.
Was there really anything to worry about?
Zhou Qi’an’s entire demeanor seemed to soften, his eyes, hidden behind his glasses, losing their usual sharpness.
The college student, walking beside him, also began to show a relaxed, peaceful expression.
For the first time in ages, he felt a strange sense of ease, as if this place was a paradise beyond the world.
The college student squinted comfortably and murmured without thinking, “Brother Zhou, I feel like… I’m back in my mother’s arms.”
Mother… arms?
The image of a snake-haired, overly eager mother forcing marriage popped into Zhou Qi’an’s mind.
A violent chill ran down his spine.
Seeing the college student’s intoxicated expression, Zhou Qi’an immediately slapped him.
“Snap out of it!”
“Brother Zhou,” the college student furrowed his brows, torn with confusion, “this is weird… You slapped my left cheek, but now I want you to slap my right too.”
The physical pain was making him feel even better.
Zhou Qi’an, recalling how he had snapped himself out of it, decided to use true fear to wake the college student up.
“There’s a ghost behind you.”
The college student’s face remained blank, but his joints had already begun to transform—his skin hardening like mannequin plastic, growing stiff and cold.
“Ghosts have their own misfortunes too,” he muttered dreamily. “And humans… have good and bad among them.”
Mu Tianbai, who always seemed lethargic during the day, continued walking forward with half-lidded eyes, utterly indifferent.
Zhou Qi’an stopped and stared at the college student.
“Enjoy pain, do you? Want me to throw you back into the lake to feed the fish again?”
Instantly, the memory of being eaten alive by piranhas resurfaced.
The stench of blood and fish in his mind completely drowned out the floral fragrance in the air.
The college student’s pupils shrank in shock, and his stiff joints creaked as they moved.
Very quickly, rationality and terror returned to his eyes.
At last, Mu Tianbai showed a reaction.
He turned to Zhou Qi’an and asked, “Just what have you done in these dungeons?”
Zhou Qi’an: “Heroically saving people.”
“…”
The university student was still feeling lingering fear. Even a fool could tell that the previous state of tranquility was absolutely abnormal.
The three of them continued walking forward in silence. The narrow corridor had walls covered with wallpaper of blooming flowers—flowers without leaves, with stamens that seemed to be writhing like snakes flicking their tongues.
Occasionally, they passed by mannequins typically found in display windows. These mannequins bent forward beneath the flowers, extending their arms in a welcoming gesture, each one wearing an identical smile.
Zhou Qi’an’s expression grew heavier with each step.
He was sure he wasn’t mistaken—an invisible hand was stroking his back. Each time it brushed downward, his worries lessened by a fraction.
At the same time, he wasn’t just losing his vigilance. He was also losing his aggression, his fear—even his will to survive.
Before long, even the image of his nagging mother, like a sea serpent desperately pushing him to get married, started to melt away, much like Jesus on the cross being burned into an unrecognizable form. It no longer stirred any emotion in him.
Unease, fear, anger.
Zhou Qi’an desperately needed something to stir his emotions. He tried recalling the agony of working 996 shifts, but under the caress of this invisible hand, even overtime seemed forgivable.
Gradually, the floral scent became mixed with another odor—a faint, sweet metallic smell. It was a scent he had encountered many times in a short span. The unique smell of blood… Whose blood?
It took him a moment to realize—his own.
As he passed by a reflective surface, Zhou Qi’an’s pupils shrank beneath his glasses.
In the reflection, the wrinkles on his white shirt were being smoothed out. At the same time, thin red marks were appearing on his back, as if he was undergoing some kind of ritualistic cleansing.
Stroke after stroke, the wounds deepened, forming a bloody trench. A few more strokes, and his bones might soon be visible.
Zhou Qi’an tried to press against the wall to evade the touch, only to realize he couldn’t control his own body. Worse still, he found himself unconsciously stretching his spine, his expression faintly flushed, as if he were enjoying this cruel torment.
Perhaps because he had resisted earlier, this “gentle hand” seemed to take extra care of him, increasing both its speed and force. Zhou Qi’an no longer had the mental capacity to worry about how Mu Tianbai and the college student were doing. If this continued, he would be stripped to the bone first.
How could he provoke an intense emotional response in such a short time?
No matter how much he cursed in his mind, his thoughts remained sluggish, as if his brain had stopped functioning.
“One, two…” Zhou Qi’an silently counted. Roughly every four seconds, his shirt would shift ever so slightly.
He slowly shifted his focus, diverting part of his mind to think.
Suddenly, Zhou Qi’an tilted his head back and spoke with devout sincerity, as if addressing the air: “The owner of Jinxiang Tower is a good person.”
The moment his words fell, a terrifying chill swept through his body.
It worked!
The system had warned that he would naturally provoke the tower owner’s hostility, and that hostility couldn’t be baseless.
Carrying out the female ghost’s task meant he was already marked by her presence. If he failed the mission, no matter where he hid, the ghost would find him. This lingering effect must have been what triggered the tower owner’s innate hatred.
The chill remained in his skull. The blood-red eye symbol on his special panel—like a surveillance camera—seemed to be watching, ensuring that he lived up to his words.
Gritting his teeth, Zhou Qi’an added, “I sincerely praise the owner of Jinxiang Tower.”
The cold pierced straight to his bones.
He couldn’t say too much, or he’d be frozen solid by the ghostly energy before he even had the chance to turn into a mannequin.
Based on the floor’s layout, a full circuit would take six or seven minutes at most. That should be enough time to locate Jin Furen’s office.
He had to calculate how often to speak at intervals.
The moment he regained clarity, pain surged back in waves.
The mix of bone-chilling cold and the fiery pain of his wounds overlapped. Zhou Qi’an’s lips gradually lost their color.
The moment the ghostly energy faded, the hand would stroke him again, and he would return to that state of serene detachment.
As Zhou Qi’an struggled forward, the elevator doors behind them suddenly reopened.
A manager, with all four limbs made of metal, stepped out.
Rolling up his sleeves, he revealed arms like black pipes, one of which was fitted with a professional detection device. He asked ominously, “Is this the one who stole the jewelry?”
Zhou Qi’an didn’t even need to turn around—he could already feel a strong surge of hostility locking onto him.
Stole jewelry?
Instinctively, he reached into his pocket and felt a cold, metallic edge.
He suddenly recalled the moment in the cafeteria when the man in the baseball cap had briefly paused next to him.
Framing.
The realization surfaced in his mind.
The manager’s deathly footsteps drew closer.
Under the double assault, Zhou Qi’an’s emotions fluctuated even without needing to rely on the female ghost’s resentment.
He braced himself against the wall to steady his stance, his neck stiff as he twisted it around.
The pair of large, unseen hands remained close behind him, invisible yet ever-present, refusing to leave.
His back was covered in blood, and in his disheveled state, Zhou Qi’an managed to tug out a grin at the man in the baseball cap, silently mouthing: “Spare me, Father.”
In this space that was dangerously quiet to the point of inducing death, for the first time, he felt that his luck wasn’t too bad—his enemy had appeared at just the right moment.
For a brief second, Zhou Qi’an even felt a little reckless, thinking: Let the storm hit even harder.
At the entrance of Jinxiang Tower.
A conjoined old woman hunched over, her twisted frame positioned just far enough from the building to weaken her strength somewhat. But even so, when facing a mere human, the predatory gleam in her eyes remained unchanged.
“Where is your elevator card?”
Standing opposite her was a refined-looking man, his skin devoid of any trace of blood.
A normal person would shudder at the sight of a grinning conjoined woman, but this man—dressed in a suit and tie—showed no reaction whatsoever.
Sensing that the employee was nearby, the man maintained a gentle, almost smiling tone, like a wolf in sheep’s clothing. “Excuse me, ma’am. Have you seen a young man, around his twenties, with thick bangs and black-rimmed glasses? He’s one of our company’s employees, but he seems to have gone missing.”
“Elevator card.” The conjoined old woman kept closing in, her sclera clouded with a murderous red glow.
As the first to receive HR updates, the manager had been informed that a new employee was arriving. The old woman had positioned herself outside the tower in advance, waiting to check his access card.
A brightly colored advertisement board stood behind her, mostly obscured by her grotesque figure.
“Employees disappearing during team-building events is a serious issue, especially overseas—it even makes the news sometimes…”
The man rambled on, his words calm and unhurried.
Suddenly, the old woman’s neck extended unnaturally, as long as a white serpent, her mouth stretching open like a man-eating flower, ready to bite his head off in one snap.
“…This place looks a bit dangerous. If a death occurs, aside from the compensation payout, our PR team would have to handle additional expenses.”
Without changing his expression, the man caught her attacking head with a single hand, his polite smile never wavering. At the same time, two unnaturally long fingers pressed into a soft spot—ripping out one of her eyes.
With her throat locked in a death grip, the old woman couldn’t even let out a scream of pain.
Murky blood seeped through his fingers, finally adding a touch of color to his eerily pale skin.
“So, ma’am,” the man said with his usual gentleness, “have you seen my employee?”
Author’s note:
Boss: Let me check what my delicate little employee is up to.
College student: Murder, arson, feeding fish, and writing.
Zhou Qi’an: …
P.S.: For some reason, no matter how far Zhou Qi’an sails away, his mother, his boss, and others can always roughly pinpoint his location.
