Ying Yu continued, “Once a player comes into contact with a corpse that’s leaked out of a instance, they’ll be forcibly pulled into that instance in a short period of time. Until the game arranges the entry, they won’t be able to enter any other instance.”
Zhou Qi’an paused in surprise. “Good thing I only looked at a photo.”
Ying Yu nodded. “Your mother placed a photo with your birthdate written on it onto the corpse to match your Eight Characters.”
“……”
Only God knew how—
Relieved Zhou Qi’an was when he heard Ying Yu mention this.
“My mom finally stopped stabbing me with a knife in plain sight.”
Ying Yu’s eyelids twitched slightly.
Zhou Qi’an was in an uncharacteristically good mood.
He could feel that his mother had regained some level of control—she had even learned how to arrange a long-distance blind date for him.
This kind of proactive distancing was actually a good sign.
While being watched with slightly complicated expressions by both Ying Yu and Shen Zhiyi, Zhou Qi’an struck a pose of attentiveness, waiting for more.
He even offered a declaration of life philosophy: “Whether it’s sooner or later, I’ve got to go in anyway. A instance’s a instance—what difference does it make?”
Ying Yu normally didn’t bother with social niceties. After finding out about the photo, he’d rarely prepared to offer some words of comfort—but clearly, there was no need.
He skipped that part and went straight to the main point: “Normally, forced entry instances have a difficulty rating of at least four stars. The benefit is that you can predict the instance’s direction. The corpse that leaks out will carry clues related to the instance.”
Ying Yu himself was quite interested in this one and intended to take a look.
“There are perks like that?”
Ying Yu gave Zhou Qi’an a long look.
Was this man only capable of hearing the second half of a sentence, automatically ignoring the downsides?
The driver knocked and entered, handing Zhou Qi’an a freshly printed stack of photos.
Ying Yu said, “You can take them home to study.”
Zhou Qi’an nodded and stood up decisively. “Then I won’t take up any more of your time.”
He pulled Shen Zhiyi along to leave.
Since they were already doing a favor, the driver planned to take them home and followed them out. On the way, the well-trained, burly man couldn’t stop glancing at Zhou Qi’an from the corner of his eye. This was the first time he had ever seen Mr. Ying treat someone so politely.
Even those associations that regularly traded large quantities of gear with the lab were treated coldly by Ying Yu. The chairman of the Black Magic Association, despite being a stable partner, had been treated like trash… and disposed of.
What was so special about this young man?
The driver couldn’t tell.
But as they got in the car, he suddenly realized—earlier, when they were leaving, the young man hadn’t even looked around the lab once.
A curiosity level far lower than normal—almost unnaturally so.
Originally sneaking glances at Zhou Qi’an, the driver was suddenly struck by a wave of chill. When his gaze met Shen Zhiyi’s in the rearview mirror, he shuddered for no reason.
·
When they first arrived, Shen Zhiyi had been refused a ride, forcing the driver to scramble for an excuse. Now the coldness in the air was making his eyeballs itch inside their sockets.
Once he regained feeling, the driver grew anxious and drove as fast as he could.
The moment the two men got out of the car, he sped off in a cloud of dust.
The mist in the air gradually began to thin. Zhou Qi’an wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination, but ever since Shen Zhiyi had exited the last instance, his expression seemed unusually dark.
He was fine when they spoke face-to-face, but outside of conversation, Shen Zhiyi was often expressionless and silent, as if preoccupied.
Zhou Qi’an watched him out of the corner of his eye. Seeing that Shen Zhiyi’s long, slender fingers were almost bent to the point of breaking from his own force, Zhou Qi’an had to speak up to interrupt the self-destructive behavior.
Just as he was about to frown and say something, a hoarse voice cut him off.
“Qi’an, you haven’t come to night school in a long time.”
Then, as if shifting topics, a strange glint flashed in Shen Zhiyi’s eyes. “Based on the schedule, it’s actually time for an exam.”
After the last instance, Shen Zhiyi felt his patience had worn thin.
He might as well make bolder moves—project a monster with self-awareness, lure Zhou Qi’an into fighting and stealing energy, and walk the path of a predator’s evolution.
But a sliver of remaining rationality told him that once the other found out the truth, he would not like it.
After all, one gains at the other’s expense. This method would significantly harm Shen Zhiyi’s main body, and if he wasn’t careful, the game might capture him.
And Zhou Qi’an hated it when others made “self-sacrifices” on his behalf without asking.
Shen Zhiyi’s voice was barely above a whisper. “How about an open-book test? Let’s see if…”
He gazed at the young man with delicate, picturesque features and said slowly, “In the next instance, you’ll once again be covered in wounds, bleeding while excitedly declaring victory.”
The air fell silent for a moment.
At first Zhou Qi’an thought it was a joke, but when he caught a glimpse of Shen Zhiyi’s cold expression, his own smile froze.
“And if I do?” he asked.
Shen Zhiyi replied, “Then we do it my way.”
…
Then we do it my way.
Even after getting out of the car, Zhou Qi’an still felt those words echoing in his ears.
Objectively speaking, Shen Zhiyi was far more gentle than his mother or boss. Aside from the occasional pathological, possessive comment, he behaved almost like a normal person.
But once that restraint was gone… Zhou Qi’an didn’t want to think about it.
After returning, the two began to pack lightly.
According to what Ying Yu had said, the instance’s entrance would most likely open in Dun City. To ensure they could enter the same instance, they also had to inspect the corpse in Dun City with their own eyes.
On the way to the airport, Zhou Qi’an logged into the Azure forum.
Chatting, trading, and team formation were the forum’s eternal trio of topics.
Zhou Qi’an DM’d Han Li’s account: [Got any kind-hearted, reliable female players to recommend?]
Han Li wasn’t in a instance at the moment and replied instantly: [Don’t make this hard for me.]
Finding premium “clients” like Red Cloak? Sure. Finding good people? Was he joking?
As Zhou Qi’an sent the message, he flipped through the photos Ying Yu had given him, quietly analyzing.
The corpses, before decomposition, didn’t look pale or blue like typical ones. Instead, they seemed strangely fresh and graceful. That vivid, almost fluid beauty carried the rhythm of the deep sea. Anyone who looked at it couldn’t tear their gaze away.
But Zhou Qi’an wasn’t focused on the skin. He noticed something both obvious and easily overlooked.
Almost all the corpses were female—which meant the key information for the next instance might be related to women.
He needed to find a suitable female teammate to enter the instance with him.
Bai Chanyi had just come out of a instance. She might agree to jump straight into another one out of obligation, but Zhou Qi’an didn’t want to exploit anyone.
Han Li had a fair bit of street smarts, but unfortunately, her survival ability in instances wasn’t great.
These photos hinted at two completely opposite possibilities: either women had an advantage in this instance, or they were at a disadvantage.
After all, when normal players died, their corpses usually became just another eerie attraction for the deep-sea giants in the tunnels—rarely were they preserved in such a fresh and lifelike state.
“Ying Yu…”
Ying Yu’s team definitely had suitable candidates, but Zhou Qi’an thought about it and ultimately decided against it. He didn’t know that man well enough.
If the other party brought along a teammate and they ended up having a conflict, it would be bad for him.
Like if they insisted on taking a risk to collect special materials, even though it was unlikely, he had to consider the possibility.
His private messages blinked again.
Han Li: [Why not just recruit some teammates? With your current popularity, just post a team-up thread and ask a few familiar faces to help out. Plenty of players will want to join.]
Popularity?
What popularity?
Han Li: [You post it first.]
Since posting didn’t cost anything, Zhou Qi’an put up a recruitment thread.
He vaguely stated that he was heading into a risky instance and that he had some clues about it.
Gender-related elements were also part of the clue, but Zhou Qi’an couldn’t reveal that outright. So in the requirements, he asked interested applicants to privately message him with a photo—his reasoning: he was “face-obsessed.”
The request sounded completely unserious.
A minute passed with no responses. Finally, someone replied—it was Han Li, bumping the thread.
[Cannon Bro sincerely recruiting teammates—don’t miss out if you’re passing by!]
“???” What the hell was that?
Not long after, another familiar account—seemingly Bai Chanyi, who was probably also browsing the forum—left a brief reply: [It’s him.]
The thread exploded with activity!
After all, experienced players recognized the usernames of skilled individuals, which immediately boosted credibility.
[Damn, front-row seats for Cannon Bro.]
[Cannon Bro’s awesome—I messaged him, hope he considers me.]
[No way!!! For real? Legendary Cannon Bro, you’ve finally appeared!]
Zhou Qi’an’s first reaction was that the Holy Artifact incident had completely leaked. Otherwise, why would so many players seem to know him?
He quickly searched but found nothing related to the artifact.
He changed his keywords and scrolled through post after post. A few minutes later, Zhou Qi’an’s expression turned difficult to describe.
It all started when he came out of the last instance. The Black Magic Guild had posted a bounty for information about it. More and more players got curious about what happened, until one player chimed in:
[Someone from our guild was in that instance. Said a crazy-skilled newbie blew up the place. Yeah—literally blew it up.]
[A friend of mine was there too. According to him, it was with cremated ashes.]
Many doubted the claims in the replies, until someone pointed out that Bai Chanyi and Red Hood were both in that instance. They could confirm it.
Of course, the two wouldn’t respond to such trivial posts, but their silence already spoke volumes.
Even Han Tiansheng, still traumatized by being eaten by a fish, left a reply:
[That’s nothing—I was in a instance with that same newbie. He used incense ash to blow up a villa. If I’m lying, may I suffer terrible luck in my next instance.]
That was basically a cursed oath.
In the reply chain that followed, Zhou Qi’an ended up being labeled with a nickname: Cannon Bro—codename: Map Cannon.
A true regional-level attacker—though what he attacked were instances.
The popular thread was still getting responses that day:
[Damn it, I just got out of a four-and-a-half-star instance. Place blew up from a methane explosion. Pretty sure it was that same player again.]
“……”
Slander. It was all slander.
Still, an up-and-coming “Map Cannon” caught plenty of interest. Since Zhou Qi’an mentioned he had clues, his DMs started to fill up.
He decided to let the hype simmer for a while.
While waiting for more messages, Zhou Qi’an searched for information on Ying Yu again.
Searching his name was useless, so he chose a different keyword: Hidden House.
The Hidden House Project had been ongoing for a while. It wasn’t top-secret; otherwise, Red Hood wouldn’t have described it to him in detail.
There wasn’t much about the project itself on the forum, but there were recent posts that mentioned it in passing.
[BREAKING: Little Red Riding Hood Guild’s leader mysteriously disappears; vice-leader takes over!]
[SHOCKING: Major reshuffle in the Black Magic Guild—mascot’s status at risk?]
Clickbait titles were apparently a universal human trait.
The keywords appeared in the replies:
[Post #5: Heard the Hidden House Project’s master has now chosen Little Red Riding Hood as the new mascot.]
[Post #6: Black Magic Guild’s inner monologue: ‘I quit once, and that’s for life!’]
[Post #7: Dude above, even a dying camel is bigger than a horse—watch out for Black Magic’s revenge.]
Zhou Qi’an roughly pieced things together: the Black Magic Guild had broken the rules and acted in the real world, which led to a purge.
Little Red Riding Hood survived. Red Cloak defected at the right time with valuable intel and secured a new position for their guild.
The image of that woman with light chestnut hair surfaced in his mind. He gave a cold smirk.
That woman was indeed clever—knew when to cut her losses. But her ambition was equally large; there was no way she’d stay content for long.
Some debts… would be settled eventually.
Zhou Qi’an swiped through the screen, clicking into other posts with interest.
Many guild leaders had snuck in their own complaints, saying the Hidden House master was difficult to work with.
Some even boldly predicted that the master would eventually clash with the Holy Artifact holders to claim and study the artifacts.
“Mr. Ying seems easy-going,” Zhou Qi’an muttered, “but his reputation isn’t great.”
Just then, Shen Zhiyi came over and said, “Let’s go.”
They’d already booked the earliest flight.
On the way to the airport, Zhou Qi’an began sifting through potential teammates. As he pulled out his phone, he suddenly remembered, “Almost forgot—gotta tell the college kid to delay delivering oil to my place.”
His mom was still locked up, after all.
Hearing this, Shen Zhiyi remarked, “That dumb colleague of yours—something’s off about him.”
Dumb… colleague?
Zhou Qi’an raised an eyebrow. He didn’t recall ever telling Shen Zhiyi that the college student was his colleague.
He didn’t call that out, and instead asked deliberately, “What’s off about him?”
“When I saw him,” Shen Zhiyi said, “nothing seemed off.”
A person with a rare healing ability, a bit hypocritical, and unusually empathetic toward monsters—none of it added up.
Then there was his luck stat.
Even though Zhou Qi’an had arranged for Mr. Si to handle the exam substitution after leaving the instance, that four-and-a-half-star instance still held many unknown dangers—like the players who were swallowed by shadows in the exam hall.
Yet the seemingly weak college student had been exceptionally lucky—not once did a monster come after him.
So many issues, yet when Shen Zhiyi saw him, his most immediate impression was: dumb, ordinary, normal.
Zhou Qi’an responded lazily with an “oh” and waved his hand dismissively. “No big deal.”
After all, there weren’t any normal people around him anyway.
He even looked at Shen Zhiyi with an expression that said, Why are you making a fuss?
“……”
But now that Shen Zhiyi had mentioned it, it was true — the college student was extremely lucky.
Zhou hadn’t noticed before, but take the Jinxiang Building incident for example — it looked like he was incredibly unlucky, cursed to take the place of another’s death. In reality, that was the only death rule in the entire instance that came with a reprieve.
Zhou Qi’an suddenly chuckled.
He called the college student. After giving instructions about the oil delivery, he said, “I’m going to send you some photos in a private message. Pick one.”
The student followed his instructions obediently and soon picked one. “Brother Zhou, are you trying to find a girlfriend? This kind of selection feels a bit disrespectful…”
Zhou Qi’an immediately hung up on him.
He wasn’t planning to bring the student along this time. Four consecutive high-density instance runs — the kid probably wouldn’t survive.
The woman in the photo was pleasant to look at, especially her eyes, which seemed incredibly perceptive.
Zhou Qi’an messaged the player privately. The two chatted all the way to the airport and eventually finalized their plans to enter the instance together. After that, they continued the game-related discussion through private messages on the forum.
After sending the photos of the corpses, Zhou first brought up the issue of the female bodies, then moved on to clothing details.
For example, all the female corpses were dressed in seemingly ordinary fabric — even through the photos, the material looked coarse. That suggested the place they were about to enter probably wasn’t very wealthy.
More clues would have to wait until he saw the site for himself.
·
It was the off-season. The plane took off on time and even arrived early.
Dun City had rich tourism resources. Time was tight, so Zhou Qi’an and Shen Zhiyi went to inspect the corpses as soon as they landed.
There were staff on-site. Since they weren’t players, contact with the bodies wasn’t a problem.
Ying Yu’s arrangements were in place. Zhou Qi’an showed his ID and was let through. As for the player who was supposed to join them, she’d had something come up and said she’d try to arrive soon. They didn’t need to wait for her.
The bodies looked even more shrunken in person than in the photos — a sense of withering decay, like something dying in the dead of winter.
Shen Zhiyi said, “She’s evaporating.”
The once lifelike corpse was visibly shriveling. Zhou Qi’an twitched his nose. Even through the transparent protective covering, he could smell a faint, bloody mist-like scent.
A corpse without any facial disfigurement, yet whose features remained strangely unreadable, was slowly evaporating. It was eerie beyond words.
Zhou Qi’an blinked. “Good news.”
At least this time, the instance probably wouldn’t involve mangled flesh, and he wouldn’t have to worry about whether the meat they’d eat was actually human.
Since it was all evaporating anyway.
Shen Zhiyi was briefly speechless. “…As long as you’re happy.”
Zhou Qi’an’s smile faded slightly. He murmured thoughtfully, “This corpse looks like it’s afraid of fire.”
“……”
The climate in Dun City was humid. A single night in the hotel felt like soaking in water — even breathing was difficult.
That kind of environment was great for skin, though.
When Zhou Qi’an woke up the next morning, he actually felt refreshed and radiant. He’d been woken up by a system notification. A new private message gave the gathering time and location for the mission.
The meeting spot was in an ancient town.
It was a misty, rainy day. Fog blanketed the entire area. The town had been seemingly cleared out in advance — there were barely any tourists.
Outside a closed shop, a crowd had already gathered. Among them stood Ying Yu, wearing black pants and a white shirt — cool and aloof, standing out immediately.
Zhou Qi’an spotted him at a glance.
The owner of the Cangwu Project was quite famous, but aside from major guild administrators, very few had actually seen him in person.
Right now, he was using an alias — claiming his surname was Yu.
As Zhou Qi’an walked over, he began scanning for the other player on their team.
“Hello.”
Someone greeted him before he could find the target.
The speaker was a square-faced man who looked reliable.
Seeing the newcomers, the man greeted them warmly. “There are quite a few players this time. You guys should introduce yourselves too — maybe share your skill types, so it’ll be easier to work together later.”
Zhou Qi’an waved his hand. “Let’s wait a day. Might save me from remembering too many names.”
From the looks of it, they’d enter the game around 3 PM. The difficulty was bound to be high, and there were a lot of people.
Somebody was definitely getting sacrificed at the start.
“……”
“I’m Zhou Qi’an. I work in advertising and campaign planning.”
The square-faced man’s mouth twitched. Didn’t he just say he didn’t want to introduce himself?
Zhou Qi’an shrugged, as if he knew what the man was thinking. “I’ll be here tomorrow anyway.”
The man’s expression twitched harder and turned to Shen Zhiyi.
Shen Zhiyi said, “Shen Zhiyi. I’m a schoolteacher.”
Zhou Qi’an immediately choked on air.
__
Author’s Note:
Zhou Qi’an: Don’t make cold jokes.
Shen Zhiyi: I do have a teacher’s certificate.
Zhou Qi’an: ……
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