The distance between the graves was short, and some tombstones stood several meters tall, densely covered in small inscriptions. The craftsmen who carved them demonstrated the true meaning of ‘a crime too numerous to record.’
In the ancestral hall, the most common surnames among past Guard Chief were ‘Li’ and ‘Zhou.’ Coupled with the voting box made of human bones, Su Er instinctively searched for tombstones bearing these surnames.
Aside from the recently ‘suicided’ girl from the Li family, he found only one tombstone with the surname ‘Li.’ Calculating from the birth and death years inscribed, the child had been no more than thirteen years old. The recorded crime was drowning to death while sneaking out to play. Holding back his impatience, Su Er searched from end to end once more and finally discovered a tombstone near the mountain wall—this one belonged to someone named Zhou Linjun.
Due to years of exposure to the wind and rain, the ‘Zhou’ character had already become faint and indistinct.
The listed crime: Theft.
Compared to the other tombstones, only these two simple words were inscribed.
Su Er turned to Ji Heng. “Do you think a ghost will suddenly appear?”
“Not very likely,” Ji Heng replied. “Unless you violate some taboo.”
The game favored ghosts, but it also imposed restrictions on them. Otherwise, players wouldn’t stand a chance.
Su Er asked, “Does grave-digging count?”
Before Ji Heng could respond, Wen Buyu inhaled sharply. Was this guy insane?
Of course, Su Er wasn’t acting recklessly. The only way to confirm whether the bones in the ancestral hall’s voting box belonged to this person was to open the coffin.
Ji Heng didn’t answer.
Su Er knew he shouldn’t rely on Ji Heng for every decision. He quickly adjusted his mindset and thought independently. The people buried here were considered the town’s shame, and there weren’t even any signs of visitors paying respects. This place was likely designated as a mass grave.
Even so, no guarantee that digging up a coffin wouldn’t lead to dire consequences.
After half a minute of contemplation, Su Er steeled himself and decided to dig. Ji Heng was still here now, but who knew how many life-or-death choices he would face in the future? He couldn’t expect perfect conditions every time.
At first, he wrapped his hands in his sleeves and started clawing at the earth, but he soon grew frustrated with the slow progress. He searched around and found a sturdy wooden plank to use as a makeshift shovel. Wen Buyu felt her nerves fraying. “Shouldn’t we stop him?”
Ji Heng glanced at her, and she swallowed her words. Gritting her teeth, she stepped forward to help Su Er dig.
“Hm?” Su Er was surprised.
“You alone wouldn’t finish before nightfall,” Wen Buyu muttered. She had no desire to help, but if she remained passive, Ji Heng would eventually discard her like a useless chess piece.
Su Er raised an eyebrow. Her combat ability was weak, but there was a reason she had survived this long.
When it came to digging, Wen Buyu was clearly more experienced than Su Er, knowing where to apply force efficiently. Plus, she had been in the game longer and was physically stronger than Su Er. Working together, they soon uncovered the edge of a coffin.
Wen Buyu asked, “Are we opening it?”
Su Er knocked lightly on the coffin lid. “Hello? Anyone home?”
Wen Buyu was speechless. Just as she was about to speak, a dull thud came from inside the coffin. The sudden sound made her fall backward onto the ground. She looked over and saw that Su Er had already leaped three meters away!
Su Er, slightly embarrassed, pursed his lips. “Instinctive escape reaction.”
Wen Buyu climbed back up with resentment. If the coffin had actually burst open, she would’ve been the first to suffer.
Regaining his composure, Su Er approached the coffin again and spoke in a respectful tone. “Senior, what do you think of me? Am I qualified to be the Guard Chief?”
The coffin remained silent.
Su Er offered, “If I become the Guard Chief, I promise to implement even stricter regulations to prevent anyone from exploiting loopholes.”
Wen Buyu frowned and whispered, “The people buried here were all victims of those very rules.”
Su Er ignored her and continued, “The current punishments are still too lenient. They’re not enough to maintain order.”
A sinister chuckle echoed from within the coffin. A sudden gust of wind howled down from the mountain peak, chilling them to the bone. Their feet felt glued to the ground, unable to move. With a long creak, the coffin lid cracked open slightly, revealing rusted nails bent at odd angles.
Three stacks of red paper floated out from within, dividing into three portions and landing in the hands of Su Er, Wen Buyu, and Ji Heng.
“Whoever holds onto these until dawn will become the new Guard Chief.”
A hoarse voice rasped from inside the coffin. Around them, the other graves seemed to stir in response. The wind grew stronger, displacing clumps of yellowed dirt from the graves.
None of the three showed any sign of joy. Instead, they stared at the red paper in their hands as if they were holding a curse. Wen Buyu was the first to react. “I forfeit. You take it.”
Su Er didn’t accept it. “Let’s leave this place first.”
As they walked away, the graveyard shrank into a silhouette behind them, and the temperature gradually warmed. Su Er tightened his grip on the red paper and looked at Ji Heng with a wry smile. “Just like your philosophy—if conditions don’t exist, create them.”
If they could hold onto these papers, fine. If not, they would likely die because of them.
At the end of the day, the ghosts had given them an opportunity, but failure meant death. The ghosts were simply crafting new ways to kill them.
Wen Buyu considered a grim possibility. “Does this mean we’re going to be hunted by a large number of ghosts tonight?”
“A very reasonable assumption.”
For the first time, Ji Heng agreed with her reasoning.
Wen Buyu was on the verge of tears as she tried to shove the red paper into Su Er’s hands for the second time. “Didn’t you want to be the Guard Chief?”
Su Er replied, “If I wake up tomorrow without a single piece of red paper in my hands, I might be marked for elimination.”
Recalling the words from the coffin, Wen Buyu’s hand froze mid-air.
She spent the entire way to the marketplace contemplating an escape plan. Then, suddenly, she asked, “By the way, why did you say you wanted to establish rules instead of breaking them?”
The latter would have been more in line with the wishes of those who had died unjustly.
Su Er recounted a story from a previous dungeon: “The people who were harmed by a cult still longed to become divine envoys even after death.”
If they couldn’t change while alive, why would they suddenly achieve enlightenment after death?
“If what Ji Heng said is true, that the Guard Chief’s every move is monitored by the ghosts, then it proves that these spirits don’t seek revenge— they want to use even stricter rules to restrain those who come after them.”
Wen Buyu glanced at Ji Heng, who gave a slight nod, agreeing with Su Er’s reasoning.
Su Er sighed. “The daughter-in-law suffers for ten years, then becomes the mother-in-law and starts the cycle of abuse all over again.”
“…That’s ridiculous, but oddly accurate.” Wen Buyu tried to steady herself. “Right now, our priority is surviving the night.”
Su Er suggested, “We split up.”
There was clearly more than one ghost in town. If they stayed together, they would only face a siege. By splitting up, the ghosts would be forced to divide their forces, reducing the overall pressure on them.
Wen Buyu didn’t object. Predators always target the weakest prey first, and Su Er was the weakest among them. The threats he faced would be relatively minor.
A faint, ghostly fragrance filled the air. Wen Buyu looked up to see Ji Heng handing Su Er a small box.
“What’s this?”
“Ghostbone Flower,” Ji Heng explained. “Until the flower fully blooms, ghosts won’t be able to perceive your presence.”
Su Er hadn’t expected him to have such a miraculous item. “How long does it last?”
Ji Heng shook his head. “Never used it before. But it should buy you some time.”
Su Er didn’t refuse. He accepted it with a solemn nod of gratitude.
Wen Buyu’s eyes flickered. Ji Heng had just handed Su Er such an item right in front of her—wasn’t he worried that…? Just as that thought formed, she looked up and caught Ji Heng watching her from the corner of his eye, silently mouthing three words: ‘Go ahead, try.’
Three simple words sent a chill through Wen Buyu, instantly dispelling any thoughts of taking the item for herself.
Even a dog has its master. With Su Er’s potential, he might just become the leader of the pack.
Ji Heng added, “I do have other items that could be useful to you, but they might end up killing you instead.”
Su Er nodded. He wasn’t greedy—getting the Ghostbone Flower was already an incredible stroke of luck.
Before nightfall, the three of them had a full meal at a small roadside stall before going their separate ways.
Su Er headed west—the furthest point from the graveyard. He was familiar with the terrain there, making it a relatively favorable location.
Before the sky darkened completely, he could still calmly think through his strategy. But once true night fell, even he couldn’t help but feel a bit tense. He wasn’t sure how the ghosts found their prey, but there had to be a process. Thinking back to past encounters with the ghosts, he recalled that the temperature would always drop slightly when something eerie was nearby. So, he decided to head toward the dampest, coldest place he could find. By doing the opposite, he might be able to use the temperature to mask his presence and remain unnoticed by the ghosts.
Eventually, he crouched down beside a large water vat, surrounded by plenty of cover.
The concept of nightlife didn’t exist in this town. Once night fell, few people dared to step outside. With his back against the wall, Su Er felt a chill creeping up his spine. The streets were utterly silent. He didn’t know how much time had passed when the wind suddenly picked up. The rustling sounds echoed in his ears, sending an eerie chill down his back.
Su Er remained hyper-alert, carefully listening for any disturbances. Among the howling winds, he faintly discerned an odd, discordant noise—
Tap. Tap.
No, it sounded more like a metallic clank.
Tonight’s moon was unusually bright. Su Er cautiously peeked out, using the moonlight to survey his surroundings. But as soon as he caught sight of what was there, he nearly cursed out loud.
The empty street now had a new occupant—a skeleton. Or rather, half of one. It was missing everything below the waist, yet it moved with surprising speed. In the blink of an eye, it had closed the distance from ten meters away to just under a meter.
Now that it was close, Su Er could see maggots wriggling out of its empty eye sockets. He instinctively looked down at the box Ji Heng had given him.
He had a stun gun, which he wouldn’t waste on ordinary ghosts. This skeleton didn’t seem particularly strong. But he couldn’t shake the thought of the voting box made of bones—and the fact that this thing was missing quite a few pieces.
Should he use the flower or not?
A flood of thoughts raced through his mind, but it only took him three seconds to decide. Su Er quickly opened the box and stuffed the flower into his pocket.
At that exact moment, a sharp gust of wind swept past his head. Su Er hunched his body instinctively, his heart pounding—this half-skeleton had definitely sensed his presence.
Behind him, the wall now had a hole where the creature’s sharp fingers had pierced through. The skeleton hesitated, as if confused. It had clearly sensed someone here—so why had the presence suddenly vanished?
Su Er exhaled slowly in relief.
The skeleton had no eyes. It couldn’t see in the normal sense. It seemed the Ghostbone Flower was even more valuable than Ji Heng had described—not only did it make ghosts unable to see him, but it also completely masked his presence from their perception.
Five minutes passed, yet the skeleton still showed no signs of leaving. Su Er tried inching sideways a few steps, but before long, the skeleton also appeared nearby.
What was going on?
The Ghostbone Flower had a time limit. Once it fully bloomed, he was done for. Su Er forced himself to stay calm, but then he noticed something disturbing—the maggots crawling out of the skeleton’s eye sockets were now just half a meter away, wriggling around aimlessly like headless flies.
Damn it!
Even with his usual composure, Su Er couldn't help but feel a deep sense of despair at his abysmal luck.
Since when did ghosts get minions?
Another ten minutes passed, and one of the flower’s petals had already unfurled.
The Ghostbone Flower wouldn’t last until dawn, and no matter where he went, the skeleton followed. At this rate, he was as good as dead.
“Gotta take a gamble.” Su Er glanced back at the relentless skeleton that wouldn’t stop until it took his life and made a bold decision. “The most dangerous place is often the safest.”
Ancestral Hall.
Ji Heng leaned against a pillar. So far, he had only encountered two weak little ghosts.
The sound of ragged breathing reached his ears. Wen Buyu stumbled inside, half of her sleeve stained with blood—clearly injured.
“There’s already someone here,” Ji Heng stated, completely indifferent.
Wen Buyu had racked her brain to think of a safe place, and the ancestral hall had seemed like a logical choice. The voting box stored here was clearly problematic, meaning a powerful ghost might appear. However, most ghosts had been executed inside this hall when they were alive, which meant they were likely reluctant to enter, making it relatively safe.
But now, with two people inside, things were different. The primal urge to kill might draw the ghosts in all at once.
Unwilling to back down, she argued, “Su Er is crafty. He might come here soon. Will you kick him out too?”
Ji Heng replied flatly, “This place was meant for him.”
Once Su Er arrived, Ji Heng would leave.
Wen Buyu was momentarily stunned. “If that’s the case, then why didn’t you just—”
Before she could finish the question, she realized the answer herself. This was all part of the training. In the Burial Selection, quality mattered more than quantity. There were advantages and disadvantages to this approach—if they lost a member in a dungeon, they had to quickly push someone new to the forefront to make up for the loss and maintain the organization's strength.
Ji Heng wasn’t completely ruthless, though. He pointed her toward another option. “You can go find Wan Yi and tell him about the red voting. With his abilities, he can protect you.”
Wen Buyu didn’t understand why Ji Heng was willing to reveal information about the red voting, but at the moment, she had no better choice.
Fueled by a mix of jealousy and frustration, she made a final remark before leaving. “He might not think of coming here.”
Su Er was indeed talented, but his survival instincts were still lacking.
“The most dangerous place is the safest,” Ji Heng said calmly. “That’s a simple concept—he won’t fail to grasp it.”
Su Er had indeed thought of the ancestral hall right away. But then he thought a step further—if he could think of it, then Ji Heng and Wen Buyu definitely could, too. If the three of them ended up converging there, what would be the point of splitting up?
Besides, the ancestral hall wasn’t the most dangerous place.
“That place is nothing…” Su Er muttered, glancing at the skeleton that was still trailing him via its swarm of maggots. Then he looked ahead at a courtyard and gritted his teeth. “Sleeping in Mister Sea of Books’ bed—that’s the real thrill.”
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