Ying Yu fell silent for a moment, racking his brain to recall if anyone had performed such a dance at the lab’s annual gatherings. Surprisingly, he found a match.
Zhou Qi’an didn’t waste time. As his words landed, he manipulated a white silk ribbon to pull down a skeleton, its crashing sound drawing the villagers’ reflexive attention. Seizing the moment, he slipped on a mask with one hand, kicked off his shoes, and moved as lightly as a feather. In the dim light, Zhou Qi’an used a pillar for cover, swiftly blending into the barefoot, masked dancing troupe.
With his waist as the pivot, he twisted his hips, shook his legs, and extended his arms like a crane. His innate mimicry skills were terrifying, like a dolphin copying other animals’ behaviors. Within two beats, relying only on peripheral vision, Zhou Qi’an matched the villagers’ eerie movements perfectly.
Ying Yu’s eye twitched slightly. That guy had definitely danced plenty at those gatherings.
Amid the terrifying yet graceful performance, Zhou Qi’an scanned the surroundings. Beyond the skeletons strung up above, the white circular altar caught his attention. He lingered on it for a few seconds—too high to see clearly.
Moving forward slowly, he noticed faint, dried bloodstains at the altar’s edge, suggesting livestock had been slaughtered there. A sacrificial altar? The final steps were paved with white bones, humbly prostrating beneath it.
If the blood wasn’t from animals but humans, the victims’ remains might be nearby. As Zhou Qi’an edged closer, the villager in front suddenly turned, revealing another face on the back of their head, staring right at him!
Zhou Qi’an’s breath caught. Forcing himself to stay composed, he stiffly extended his limbs. After locking eyes with that cold face for a few seconds, he realized the front-row villagers wore two masks: a green one in front, a smaller one at the back. His slight delay had drawn attention, with suspicious glances turning his way.
Acting first, Zhou Qi’an shot a fierce glare at the nearest villager, mouthing, You’re dancing wrong. Distracted by him, the villager faltered, losing confidence, and focused back on the dance.
At the same time, Zhou Qi’an felt lightheaded. “Evaporation—we’re evaporating!” a player’s suppressed roar came from behind. His body’s moisture was draining rapidly. Staring at the altar, Zhou Qi’an realized what was missing: a sacrifice. Every ritual needed one, beyond the dance. The players were the perfect offering.
[Disappearance Expert: 0/2]
The task panel seemed to silently hint that finding each target would pause the evaporation. Dancing was exhausting. Initially, he could still sweat, but under the intense evaporation, his wrists thinned visibly within half a minute, sleeves hanging loose. Gritting his teeth, Zhou Qi’an risked moving to the front row. As others bowed, he spun, leaped, and opened his eyes.
Finally, he saw the altar clearly.
At its center, fresh corpse fragments were arranged like dishes, a mangled head among shattered bones, its empty eye sockets staring directly at him. “Sister Zhao…” Zhou Qi’an recalled the young girl’s name for the missing player. The wine-red hair on the scalped head was unmistakable proof.
In a sense, Sister Zhao counted as one of the “disappearance experts.” The opportunity was right there, but instead of rushing forward, Zhou Qi’an let the evaporation continue under the villagers’ growing suspicion. He was waiting—waiting for a disturbance to make the villagers drop their guard.
His vitality drained, but Zhou Qi’an kept dancing with weakening arms, certain the moment would come.
—
Behind him, the moment evaporation was noticed, everyone’s expressions shifted. The square-faced man’s eyes reddened with frustration. Worse, he noticed the young girl nearby was unaffected by the cruel evaporation. In this church, women seemed immune to this deadly rule.
“Damn it!” His facade shattered. His eyes rolled, settling on the girl with a cold, calculating gaze. A dead player would count as “disappeared.” “Found it!” he said, voice tinged with excitement.
The young girl, hearing him, rushed over eagerly. “Really? Where?”
“Right…” The square-faced man closed in, a sly smile spreading as he drew a dagger from his sleeve, aiming for her soft abdomen.
Splurch. The sound of flesh being pierced was distinct. Sensing disaster, the girl’s face filled with terror.
“Go die,” he growled. But the expected sound of the blade tearing through didn’t come. Instead, a sharp pain hit him, his chest suddenly cold, as if leaking air.
His pupils dilated. The girl’s terrified expression held a mocking glint. She pulled the dagger back—white blade in, red blade out. “You… I…” he choked, realizing too late he’d been played by someone pretending to be naive. He’d underestimated her, thinking a high-difficulty dungeon would have newer players as buffers. In town, only she had answered his questions guilelessly.
The villagers, sensitive to blood, swarmed toward the scene as crimson sprayed. The Little Red Riding Hood team reacted first, ignoring the dead man’s unclosed eyes. “Quick, take the body and go,” one urged. They couldn’t let the villagers claim it.
Zhou Qi’an, now at the back of the troupe, bolted toward the altar. As expected, chaos erupted. Whether Ying Yu found the skeleton first or the players turned on each other, he’d judged the timing would be close. A scream confirmed the latter. Everyone’s so impatient, he thought.
On the bloodstained altar, the corpse lay in pieces. As Zhou Qi’an reached for it, wondering how to carry it, the system prompted: Store it?
Finally, something user-friendly. “Yes,” he answered without hesitation.
“Catch him!” The village chief’s hoarse voice rang out, his murky eyes the sharpest. He’d spotted the outsider in the troupe.
The situation turned dire. The nearest player had already fled through the gate. With their target gone, the furious villagers redirected their rage at Zhou Qi’an on the altar. They closed in from all sides, the chief raising his arms in a grotesque, predatory stance, lunging toward him.
Meanwhile, Ying Yu had located a skeleton but, with the square-faced man’s stunt ending in his own death, retrieving the hanging bones was now nearly impossible. Angry roars echoed from farther away. Ying Yu dodged a villager’s lunge with a quick sidestep, glancing toward the altar.
Zhou Qi’an was in trouble. The chief and the frontmost villagers wielded sharp candlesticks, their tips aimed at the young man on the altar. Ying Yu, holding Zhou Qi’an’s discarded backpack, squinted, pulled out a brick, weighed it, and hurled it with precision, striking the chief’s head.
“Ah!” The chief’s second head blow that day sent him stumbling. Two villagers behind him collided with his back tumor, bouncing off, and all three fell.
“Move!” Ying Yu shouted, eyeing Zhou Qi’an, who was now sprinting toward him, overtaking him in a flash.
Ying Yu, left behind: “…”
The ritual dance disrupted, the villagers’ speed surpassed human limits, their twisted bodies in pursuit. A foul stench filled the air. A skeletal hand shot out from the side, grabbing Zhou Qi’an’s ankle, nearly tripping him. The bones circling the pillars had come alive, awakened by blood, crawling from every corner toward the players. A bone underfoot stirred, reaching for Zhou Qi’an’s bare ankle.
“Damn it!” Why were they all targeting him? His seemingly light [cane] struck a skeleton, cracking it. Zhou Qi’an broke free and ran, barefoot, wincing as he stepped on twigs and stones but soon ignoring the pain.
“Catch him! That’s my family’s mask—he must’ve stolen it!”
“And my family’s clothes—he stole those too!”
“Damn it, my pendant! That cursed thief!”
The villagers’ curses rang in Zhou Qi’an’s ears as he sucked in a sharp breath. Their speed seemed to increase, and as they chased and shouted, he couldn’t even hear them panting or catching their breath. He reassured himself that as long as he could toss the corpse into the well before they caught him, the mission would be complete.
The players ahead ran for their lives. Zhou Qi’an glanced back. The villagers pouring out of the church, their hemp robes now faded, were surrounded by a misty aura that gave off a holy glow. He instantly understood why everyone avoided using items—it was as if tainting that sacred white, almost fused with the heavens and earth, would bring bad luck.
“Dancing gave them a buff,” he muttered.
All the hatred was now focused on Zhou Qi’an. As he sprinted, the noise behind him suddenly fell silent. Curious, he turned his head. The villagers had inexplicably vanished.
Zhou Qi’an froze, his steps faltering. “Not good,” Ying Yu said, realizing something. “There might be a secret passage to the village chief’s house.”
Zhou Qi’an’s expression darkened. If the villagers took a shortcut and reached the chief’s house first, completing the mission would become exponentially harder.
The village came into view ahead. Surrounded by mountains forming a natural barrier, it trapped everything inside. The village was eerily quiet—too quiet.
Zhou Qi’an’s heart raced, knowing full well that the villagers who’d entered first might have set an ambush. Yet he had no choice but to charge in.
Amid hurried breaths, a piercing wail shattered the village’s silence—
“The children!”
“All the children are gone!”
The villagers’ frantic screams echoed, gratingly loud. Zhou Qi’an’s mind flashed to Shen Zhiyi leading a group of children, smiling as he sent them off. The memory nearly distracted him mid-run.
His earlier worries vanished. If only one or two creepy kids had disappeared with Shen Zhiyi, it’d be hard to say who was in trouble. But with all the children gone, Shen Zhiyi was definitely not the one in danger.
“Focus,” Ying Yu snapped, noticing his distraction.
Zhou Qi’an snapped back to reality, speeding toward the village chief’s house. Several players seemed equally shaken, as if something beyond the mission’s scope had occurred.
The villagers’ screams weren’t fake. The player with the birthmark on his forehead exchanged a glance with the young girl. This wasn’t what they’d expected.
“I thought…” the girl started, assuming the reckless man who stayed behind was long dead.
The female teacher suddenly asked, “Could this be part of the plot?”
The village’s children were clearly abnormal. Even top guild leaders couldn’t have taken them all at once. Maybe it was just a coincidence.
No one responded. No one knew what was happening. The young girl recalled the scene before leaving the village, shivering inexplicably. It was too strange.
The square-faced man’s logic wasn’t wrong—a four-star dungeon should have rookie players as buffers. But looking around, there wasn’t a single normal person, let alone a newbie.
Chaotic thoughts flashed through their minds in seconds. They reached the village’s edge. Just a bit further, and they’d be inside.
Everyone instinctively slowed, knowing the villagers were in the village. They had to move quietly.
“We need to split into two groups,” someone said. The villagers would soon shift their anger to the rest of the team. They needed someone to draw their attention.
A Little Red Riding Hood member looked at Zhou Qi’an. “If it were anyone else, we’d need several people to distract them, luring the villagers in three directions. But one of us can buy the most time—”
Before he finished, a cold gust swept by. A dull pain hit his abdomen. Zhou Qi’an’s kick was lightning-fast, too close for the Little Red Riding Hood member to react. He doubled over in pain, glaring at Zhou Qi’an as if he wanted to tear him apart.
“Are you an idiot?” Zhou Qi’an’s slender fingers clamped onto the man’s throat. The member, caught off guard earlier, was about to fight back when Zhou Qi’an’s blue-tinted eyes behind his glasses fixed on him, devoid of any human warmth.
“I’ll draw their attention. What are you going to do with the other corpse?” Zhou Qi’an asked.
The member’s face shifted. Since entering the dungeon, Zhou Qi’an had played the sacrificial role—sharing information freely when the square-faced man suggested it, taking risks with poisonous mushrooms and bricks against the village chief, and agreeing without hesitation to search for bones in the most dangerous spot in the church. This built an image of a bold but compliant player.
Zhou Qi’an adjusted his crooked glasses, reverting to his mild-mannered office-worker persona. “Hurry up,” he said, echoing the square-faced man’s words.
This time, with everyone’s tacit agreement, the Little Red Riding Hood member was sent to draw the villagers’ fire.
Zhou Qi’an resumed running toward the chief’s house, staying vigilant for ambushes. He didn’t spot any villagers but caught sight of the elusive Miss Shen. Her gaze scanned the surroundings, searching for something. Gone was her usual elegance; her face was terrifyingly grim.
How could the village’s children vanish so suddenly?
Without staff trailing him, Zhou Qi’an felt at ease. The chief’s courtyard gate was open. The well sat under a large tree, near a storage shed. A player who’d fetched water before said, “The well water here is especially cold.”
Standing in the chilly shade, a system prompt sounded:
[Deposit the Disappearance Expert’s remains?]
Zhou Qi’an selected Yes. The shattered limbs sank into the well with a gruesome clatter. Some players turned away, unable to stomach it. The square-faced man’s body, far more intact, dropped like a boulder.
A brief silence followed as the group exchanged glances. Oddly, no mission completion prompt came.
The villagers’ roars grew clearer outside—they couldn’t delay much longer.
Within two minutes, rapid footsteps approached the gate.
“What’s going on?” The Little Red Riding Hood member, expecting the mission to be done by now, rushed in, seeing everyone frowning around the well. He craned his neck to look.
A rigid, pale hand, already in rigor mortis, shot out from the well, grabbing his throat. It was the square-faced man’s arm.
His feet lifted off the ground. The member, face red, calmly manipulated steel wires from his fingers, severing the arm. It fell back into the well. Rubbing his twice-strangled neck, he spat, “What the hell?”
Zhou Qi’an seemed to realize something. The school dungeon’s textbook mentioned that tossing corpses into places thick with deathly aura could quickly spawn undead. He couldn’t mention the book, so he said slowly, “It’s common for dead players to turn into ghosts for revenge.”
Usually, they targeted their killers. But the attack on the Little Red Riding Hood member suggested indiscriminate aggression.
Zhou Qi’an shook his head, frowning harder as it clicked. “So that’s how it is.”
The female teacher bolted the door as the villagers’ noises closed in. The door might buy them a moment. “What do you mean?” she asked urgently.
“Stop talking in riddles!” Xu Gui sneered. “Can’t you see? If we throw in one of our own, we risk being attacked by two ghosts later. But if we’d worked together to find the first wave of missing experts’ remains…”
The rest was obvious. The first experts were killed by the villagers, so their remains would have been an asset.
Zhou Qi’an sighed. “Taking shortcuts leads to dead ends.” And the real dead end wasn’t far off.
“It’s them!” A wave of terrifying shouts broke through. “These outsiders must have taken the children!”
The door shuddered under heavy pounding, the ground trembling with it. The once-sturdy gate bowed inward, clearly not holding much longer.
Inside the well, the corpse kept climbing, its nails scraping the walls with a piercing screech. The young girl was about to heave a boulder into the well, a bead of cold sweat on her forehead, when Zhou Qi’an stopped her, saying cryptically, “Only one corpse came back to life.”
One square-faced man, one Sister Zhao—only the square-faced man’s corpse reanimated. Death was a given, so the timing of death shouldn’t matter.
“And why was the altar corpse still there after a whole night?” Zhou Qi’an mused. They, the new sacrifices, had been brought to the church. The old sacrifice should’ve been consumed. Why would the dungeon be so kind as to leave one behind?
The young girl seemed to sense something but couldn’t quite grasp it.
Then, Zhou Qi’an, as if struck by a thought, pulled something from his pocket. As he unfolded the tattered cloth, the others froze, a chill of dread washing over them.
It was part of Sister Zhao’s remains—her upper lip and half an ear, which Zhou Qi’an had kept.
No wonder they hadn’t received the mission completion prompt. The corpse on the altar wasn’t even complete!
—
Author’s Note:
Square-faced man: Where’s the rookie player I was counting on to take the fall?
Young girl: This world’s getting harsher. Forget rookies—there’s not even a single normal person.
