Achieving a jump of ten points at once was already quite an impressive feat—normally, after clearing a dungeon, a player would only gain about three points. Unfortunately, this time Su Er’s physical power didn’t increase much.
Letting out a sigh, Su Er muttered, “I wonder what charm is actually good for.”
Ji Heng replied, “Go through another dungeon, maybe you’ll find out.”
Their eyes met briefly, and they both pressed firmly on the indented mark on their chest badges, temporarily disconnecting from the game world.
The first thing Su Er saw when he came to was Zhao Sanliang’s flashy, punk-style hairstyle—still in the same pose as when he’d last spoken to them. In that instant, Su Er’s relief at surviving the game evaporated completely.
For the first time, he realized how terrifying the time difference could be. If handled right, it could be used to accomplish quite a bit. With that in mind, he glanced at Ji Heng for confirmation. With the intelligence of a high-level player, Ji Heng couldn’t possibly have missed that point—yet the players in the game always seemed focused solely on clearing the dungeon.
As if reading his thoughts, Ji Heng pointed at a bug flying under a streetlamp ahead and warned, “Don’t be a moth drawn to the flame.”
Su Er: “Someone’s done it before?”
“Countless times.”
Zhao Sanliang was a results-oriented person. He raised an eyebrow at Su Er. “How’d it go? The boss led the team personally, must’ve gone well.”
Su Er wanted to preserve the last bit of his reputation, so he purposely didn’t mention the achievement point. He only said, “My charm stat rose to 69.”
“Not bad—big leap,” Zhao Sanliang snapped his fingers. “Come on, let’s grab a feast near your place. I already booked the private room.”
Su Er didn’t react much to the fact that Zhao Sanliang knew where he lived. Clearly, the man had done his homework; otherwise, he wouldn’t have known that Su Er and Yao Zhi attended the same school.
Zhao Sanliang made no effort to hide it either. “The character of our members matters a lot. If someone has a criminal record or a sketchy history, Grave Return won’t take them.”
After all, who knew if someone like that would stab you in the back during a game?
Su Er nodded in understanding.
The restaurant Zhao Sanliang had picked was bustling, but fortunately, the private room had great soundproofing.
Su Er wasn’t short on money—he ordered nearly all the signature dishes. After all, they ate so poorly in the dungeon, it was only fair to make up for it now.
Zhao Sanliang was eating happily too, and didn’t forget to tease, “So, did you pick up any achievement points this time?”
He’d only meant to joke, thanks to his chatty nature, but Su Er’s expression suddenly changed, and his own face tensed as well. “Wait… you did?”
Su Er covered it up with a smile.
Not long after, a more depressing message arrived—Yao Zhi texted to say that his math test score had dropped again.
Ji Heng caught a glimpse of the text and gave a reminder: “Yao Zhi’s going into a dungeon sometime in the next day or two. If he makes it out alive, I’ll arrange for you two to be in the same game next time.”
If he makes it out alive…
That added condition instantly made the topic heavy, and even the smile at the corners of Zhao Sanliang’s mouth faded.
One dish after another was served, and only then did the atmosphere lighten. After they were full and satisfied, and since the next day was the weekend, Su Er allowed himself to sleep in a bit. He was still young, and his energy recovered quickly.
Over the weekend, aside from going out to watch a movie, he spent most of his time at home doing exercises from the ‘Five Three’ prep book. Knowing he had school on Monday, he decided to go to bed early Sunday night. But things didn’t go as planned. Not long after his bath in the afternoon, Zhao Sanliang called and asked to meet up.
When he arrived, he found not only Ji Heng there, but Yao Zhi too—who looked absolutely exhausted.
“Just got out of a dungeon, teacher?”
Yao Zhi nodded. “Something happened in the dungeon. I figured I’d let you know so you’re mentally prepared.”
Pushing up his glasses, he said seriously, “The host in this dungeon deliberately steered the topic toward you—implying you’re hiding some shameful secret.”
Su Er wasn’t stupid—he knew the host was trying to get the players to turn on him.
“If it were just one host, it wouldn’t matter,” Yao Zhi said. “But if hosts in every dungeon start feeding that narrative to players, it’ll become a serious problem.”
Zhao Sanliang chimed in at just the right moment. “The boss’s idea is to make an example of a few troublemakers to scare the rest.”
While players couldn’t directly kill each other, there were plenty of ways to get someone killed inside a dungeon.
Su Er asked, “But with so many dungeons, how can you guarantee being in the same one as the troublemakers?”
Zhao Sanliang gave a mysterious smile. “There’s always a way.”
Yao Zhi added, “All it takes is putting up a valuable item as bait, and you can stir up a storm in a small pool.”
Ji Heng looked at Su Er. “What do you think?”
“Not worth wasting items,” Su Er replied. “Besides, life is precious. Even if someone targets me, it’s not a reason to get innocent people killed.”
Su Er added, “Out of respect for life, I have a rather immature idea.”
Ji Heng: “Let’s hear it.”
Su Er: “Spread the story of what I did in the last dungeon—especially the ghost marriage. Emphasize the benefits. The stat boost at the end is solid proof.”
Zhao Sanliang chuckled. “Even so, who would actually go marry a ghost?”
Isn’t that basically suicide?
Su Er said seriously, “That’s why we need to spread another message—if you marry a host, you can gain extra lifespan.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, the other three exchanged glances, their expressions shifting slightly. Yao Zhi’s gaze behind his glasses became unreadable, and Zhao Sanliang’s eyes glinted with amusement.
It was Zhao Sanliang who finally spoke: “Even if you say that… not everyone will believe it.”
“There’ll be some,” Su Er said with certainty. “Players go into games terrified, survive, and then get dragged into the next one—it’s a hopeless cycle of death.”
That’s exactly when you need a spark to change everything.
“It’s a bold idea—and doable,” Zhao Sanliang said. “But why do it?”
As soon as Ji Heng spoke, everyone turned their eyes to him.
“Information that’s easily obtained is cheap. It’s only when you pay a high price that it gets taken seriously.”
Zhao Sanliang looked thoughtful at that and added, “We can start by going to a few major organizations we've had conflicts with. Let them trade items for the intel.”
Yao Zhi said, “We’ll say it’s a secret Su Er got from the Ghost King.”
Of course, there were still many details to iron out that couldn’t be settled in one conversation, but there were tacticians in Grave Return, so it wouldn’t be long before they came up with a full plan.
Su Er frowned. “If it's the leaders of these big groups, they might be suspicious. I mean, if the info’s so valuable, why aren’t we keeping it to ourselves? Why sell it?”
Ji Heng considered this briefly and said, “Good point. If it’s that valuable, we should raise the price even higher.”
Zhao Sanliang gave Su Er a firm pat on the shoulder. “Damn, this distraction tactic is bold!”
Su Er didn’t look pleased—if anything, his expression was a little grim. He gave a wry smile. “I’m not afraid of dying, but if I’m alive, I want to leave something behind. From what I’ve seen, players are way too afraid of the hosts. If that continues, we’ll just keep making them stronger while we weaken ourselves... But the hosts are bound by rules too. I want everyone to realize that again. Fear ghosts if you must—but don’t cower before the hosts!”
A moment of silence. Zhao Sanliang looked at him with a complicated expression. He couldn’t hold it in and swore softly, “Damn.”
Scheming was one thing—but this guy actually had the nerve to place himself on some moral high ground. Was this even human?
Ji Heng, though, looked at him with approval. “This is a big move. It'll take time to pull off. Be careful in the next game.”
Su Er nodded. “I’ll survive.” His gaze sharpened. “I’ll live to see the day when every player in the world is lusting after the hosts.”
Even a clay idol has a temper. If the hosts want to make an example out of him, then he’ll give them a taste of their own medicine.
Zhao Sanliang pressed his lips together, unable to say anything more.
Yao Zhi gave a light cough. “Teacher believes in you.”
Su Er promised, “I won’t let you down.”
It was late, and Su Er had school tomorrow, so Ji Heng personally drove him home.
At a red light, Ji Heng—who was usually stern and humorless—actually cracked a joke: “You did spend half a night with Mister Sea of Books after all. Isn’t this cutting ties a little too clean?”
A night in bed counts for a hundred days of affection. Even half a night crawling into someone’s bed should count for something.
Su Er looked out at the drifting clouds and thought of a popular quote. His eyes glistened like there was sand in them. “Maybe… I just loved him for a very, very short while.”
This time, Ji Heng was the one left speechless.
When he got home, Su Er collapsed onto the sofa. Not long after, he jolted upright and went digging through the textbooks Zhu Yun had left behind at school.
Every few pages were filled with dense handwriting. No matter how neat the writing was, it still gave him a headache.
Luckily, he could convince himself it was good review. Whenever he came across a knowledge point, he would recite it to himself.
Then he flipped to a page that made his expression shift. In the corner, in tiny print, were the words: ‘Great Prophecy Spell.’ He quickly turned a few more pages, but found nothing else useful. Still not giving up, he flipped through the book again and suddenly noticed that at the bottom of the page, Zhu Yun had drawn a few little green-haired stick figures.
Su Er’s eyelid twitched. After being deskmates for so long, he never knew Zhu Yun had this kind of hobby. He shut the book, thinking it was time to reevaluate his impression of her.
Time ticked by, and his plan to sleep early was officially a failure.
His thoughts drifted again. He had already entered two games. If he didn’t use a team item, it was unlikely he’d enter another before the end of the month. Ji Heng was efficient and would spend this time selling the benefits of marrying a host to a few organizations.
Come to think of it, the theory wasn’t entirely baseless. The hosts weren’t exactly human—more like ghosts.
All the achievement points he’d gotten so far were either related to hosts or ghosts. Based on the game’s twisted logic, the hidden rule for earning achievement points might very well lie in the enemies
“If I can think of it, Ji Heng must’ve thought of it too…” Su Er leaned back in his chair, spinning it slowly as he muttered to himself. “If that’s the case, getting players to target the hosts might actually be the right move.”
The night wind blew gently.
Su Er lay in bed, but didn’t sleep well.
His dreams were chaotic—first, he was being hunted by ghosts, and then he saw players and hosts locked in a bloody standoff. The nightmare didn’t scare him as much as the split-second hallucination when he opened his eyes, which left him in a cold sweat.
For a moment, he saw Zhu Yun’s pale face staring at him. She looked like she’d been soaking in cold water for days, with the scent of algae thick in the air.
“Su Er—”
She whispered softly, her damp hair sticking to him.
Su Er couldn’t sleep again after that. He got up and splashed cold water on his face to stay awake.
“…Better think about something practical.”
He messaged Ji Heng, saying he wanted to enter a dungeon at the start of next month.
Ji Heng replied quickly, as if he hadn’t been asleep at all: [Entering the game too frequently in a short period can cause mental strain.]
Su Er sent over his theory about the hosts and the achievement points, then added: [Too many monks, too little gruel. Too many wolves, not enough meat. If everyone starts targeting the hosts, there might not be enough to go around later.]
After all, there’s only one host per game.
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