Ji Heng spread his hands, revealing two brooches inlaid with rubies in his palms.
Zhao Sanliang, standing nearby, remarked, “This is probably the only item allowed to be taken out of the game.”
Su Er didn’t argue, but he was certain it wasn’t the only one. At the very least, the stun gun he possessed was a perfect exception. Following Ji Heng’s instructions, Su Er pinned the brooch to his chest. He wasn't sure if it was just his imagination, but he felt an intense heat radiating from that spot.
He quickly realized it wasn’t an illusion. The heat from the brooch seemed to penetrate his skin, scorching his heart directly. Everything around him froze. Zhao Sanliang, who was closest to him, had his expression stuck in a playful smirk. Su Er caught sight of his shadow gradually fading away. As the searing heat surged through his veins, sweeping across his entire body, his consciousness finally slipped away.
Waking up was far from a pleasant experience—his whole body burned with pain. Su Er endured it as he lifted his sleeve, revealing swollen red welts, as if he had been severely whipped.
His physical power had dropped to 49.
Only then did he realize he was kneeling. Around him, there were muffled groans of pain. Observing his surroundings, he saw that six others were kneeling as well. They all wore chest plaques, unmistakably marking them as players.
Ji Heng was beside him. Su Er had assumed he would be the first to stand, but to his surprise, Ji Heng remained kneeling without the slightest movement, perfectly composed.
“What’s going on?” someone hissed through clenched teeth. Stretching their limbs, they asked, “Did your physical power drop, too?”
“I lost 10 points and didn’t even say anything. Stop whining.”
Another person added, “Mine went down, too.”
Confirming that they were kneeling in what seemed like an ancestral hall, Su Er kept silent and straightened his back, mimicking Ji Heng’s perfect kneeling posture. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed two or three others also maintaining their silence, continuing to kneel.
“Ji Heng!”
A player finally noticed Ji Heng's presence and called out in delayed recognition. However, they quickly realized something was wrong. This instance had drawn several powerful figures—besides Ji Heng, there were also Wan Yi and Shen Jiangbei. Yet none of them made any move.
The first man to stand immediately turned pale, hurriedly attempting to kneel again.
“You have no remorse!” A voice, filled with anger, suddenly rang out.
The doors of the ancestral hall were already open. A man stepped over the threshold, his gaze locking onto the standing player.
A long whip lashed through the air, striking the man with pinpoint accuracy. Su Er glimpsed the player’s chest plaque—his physical power was 142, meaning his reflexes should far exceed the average person’s. Yet, despite his intention to dodge, he took the hit squarely.
“Still trying to dodge?” The man narrowed his eyes and struck two more times. The player resisted his body's instinct to move. With a sharp crack, his chest was torn open, leaving shocking wounds beneath his shredded clothes.
Only then did the man appear satisfied.
“Two more left.” A second figure stood behind the whip-wielding man, but his thin frame was mostly obscured. He reached out and pointed at two heads among the kneeling row.
A sharp gust of wind brushed past Su Er’s ear. He held still and didn’t turn his head as the whip lashed onto the player beside him. That person had only muttered a complaint about their physical power dropping, yet they were still punished.
After him, another player was struck.
The whip-wielder finally withdrew his weapon, his tone slightly less harsh: “You may all stand now.”
Ji Heng rose first. Su Er wasted no time in following suit, immediately sizing up the two men.
The man with the whip appeared to be in his forties. His clothes were impeccably smooth, without a single wrinkle. Even the fine lines at the corners of his eyes exuded sternness. The man behind him, however, looked rather refined, dressed in a long Chinese tunic.
“Don't bring disgrace to the town,” the whip-wielder warned. Without sparing them another glance, he turned to the man in the tunic and said, “I'll leave the rest to you.”
His footsteps gradually faded. The man in the tunic swept his gaze across the players, his face solemn as he said, “Welcome to the world of Seven Days and Seven Nights.”
The same introductory phrase, yet from his lips, it sounded more like a scripture being recited.
“I am the host of this round, Mister Sea of Books.”
Unlike Mister Rose, he showed no flamboyant theatrics. “Player count confirmed: seven. You have entered the world of Wudu.”
“This town values strict adherence to order. The place you are standing in is a peaceful village where everyone follows the rules. The annual Guard Chief election is about to begin. Players who vote correctly will pass the instance.”
“How long do we have to make a choice?” An experienced player immediately cut to the heart of the matter.
Mister Sea of Books replied, “Six days. Your identity information is in your pockets.”
In this, at least, he was strikingly similar to Mister Rose— once the introduction was over, he vanished into the shadows. Hosts seemed to possess some innate ability to dampen their presence; when silent, they were easy to forget.
Su Er checked his information. This time, the instance had assigned him a role: an orphan raised in the town’s orphanage, known as the Yutang. Yutang was equivalent to an orphanage but without any warmth—its rules were even stricter than those outside.
Every player had been given the same orphan identity, with their ages forcibly set to twenty years old.
“The guy who whipped us was probably the Guard Chief,” Su Er remarked to Ji Heng. “His eyesight is pretty bad.”
Some of the players clearly didn’t look twenty at all.
Ji Heng replied, “That kind of thing is common in the game. For example, the game's natives subconsciously ignore players' chest plaques.”
At the mention of chest plaques, Su Er immediately felt several unfriendly stares directed at him.
“Fifty-nine,” someone fixated on his plaque, their voice laced with sarcasm. “Pretty high, huh?”
Su Er frowned. But after noticing the person’s charm value—just a measly 4—he silently looked away… He really couldn’t blame them.
Before he could be further berated, he kindly reminded, “You should change out of those dirty clothes first. You just got whipped—what if it affects your Charm stat…”
The man’s expression changed. No one knew exactly how Charm was measured, and if it dropped to 1, wouldn’t that be the end for him?
Everyone gradually walked out of the ancestral hall.
Perhaps because of his long legs, Ji Heng had barely taken a few steps before he had already pulled ahead of the others. As his teammate, Su Er naturally walked by his side while keeping part of his focus on observing the surroundings. “It’s much better than I expected,” he remarked.
He had thought that, because of his Charm stat, he would be met with overt hostility from other players.
“They’re all veteran players. If they have grievances, they’ll wait for the right moment to set you up,” Ji Heng said calmly. “The Venomous Beauty achievement is something they can’t ignore.”
Su Er pondered whether he should explain, but Ji Heng continued, “There was once a player who tried to kill every other person in the game.”
Su Er nodded, indicating he remembered— Zhao Sanliang had mentioned this before.
Ji Heng elaborated, “It was a major instance with twenty players. He killed the other nineteen, including the final boss, but didn’t receive any achievement points.”
Yet a new player like Su Er had been specifically labeled as a ‘Venomous Beauty’ in this instance. That was certainly thought-provoking.
Su Er rubbed the tip of his nose and decided to use his actions in this dungeon to change his reputation.
Following the address provided in the game materials, after some twists and turns, they finally found their lodging. Everyone was assigned to a small, dilapidated courtyard by the orphanage, but once they turned twenty-three, they would have to leave and find their own place.
At the moment, everyone had gathered in the courtyard to organize their known clues.
To eradicate crime, this world had established strict rules and regulations. The town’s enforcers, called the Guard Chief, were responsible for punishment. Any violations of the law resulted in immediate discipline. The town had a central ancestral hall that enshrined past generations of Guard Chief, and all punishments were carried out there.
The reason they had been whipped was simply because they had secretly drunk some alcohol. According to the rules, to prevent drunken misbehavior, alcohol consumption was strictly regulated with a monthly quota that required prior application and approval.
A player couldn’t help but mutter, “If Li Bai lived here, he’d have no choice but to end it himself.”
“We should focus on the real issue at hand,” said a tall man. The moment he spoke, several players immediately paid close attention.
Su Er glanced at the man’s badge: Shen Jiangbei.
Ji Heng provided some context. “Shen Jiangbei is the captain of ‘Wen Shi.’ The guy next to him is Wan Yi—they’re in the same team.”
Su Er took a longer look at the two of them. If Ji Heng specifically pointed them out, they must be quite capable.
Wan Yi followed up after Shen Jiangbei, adding, “That’s right. Making it through the remaining days won’t be easy.”
Someone seemed to realize something, their face slightly paling. Based on the information revealed by the host, the Guard Chief selection results wouldn’t be announced for at least six days.
“We only have seven days in total,” said Ge Xuyan, who had just finished changing clothes. He shuddered. “Doesn’t that mean there’s no way to clear the instance early?”
As everyone knew, the longer one remained in a game world, the higher the danger level.
“It’s most likely a mid-to-high-level instance,” one of the two female players murmured, pressing her lips together. “Our luck is really bad this time.”
The other female player, Wen Buyu, was much more pragmatic. She glanced toward the shadowy figure of the host and asked in a soft voice, “Are there any special rules?”
Mister Sea of Books replied in a detached tone, “No.”
Su Er keenly noticed that the moment he said that, the atmosphere stiffened. Ji Heng’s expression barely changed, but although he was reserved, he still fulfilled his role as team leader. When Su Er showed confusion, Ji Heng took the initiative to explain, “There are none on the surface, but don’t forget—this town is governed by rules everywhere.”
Even drinking a bit of alcohol resulted in being sent to the ancestral hall for a whipping. A slightly more serious violation might be fatal. Comparing this to the beginner’s instance, where the only rule was not to go outside at night, Su Er suddenly felt that it had been incredibly merciful. That realization made him mutter, “I should have been nicer to Mister Rose.”
Not far from Su Er’s left, Wan Yi overheard this and gave him a strange look.
Unlike the others, Wan Yi didn’t seem to harbor any hidden hostility toward Su Er. Instead, he even made a teasing remark. “There are many hosts in these instances. Unless something unexpected happens, you’re unlikely to run into him again.”
Su Er remained silent.
Wan Yi smirked. “Feeling regretful?”
Su Er shook his head and looked toward a certain shadowed corner. “Falling blossoms and stormy rains wound the heart of spring…” As he recited, his hand unconsciously slipped into his pocket, the cool surface of the stun gun bringing him a strange sense of reassurance. He then smiled gently. “So one should cherish those before them.”
Mister Sea of Books seemed to sense something. He turned his gaze toward Su Er, and in that instant, their eyes met in midair.
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