His words rang out with authority.
Ji Heng suddenly felt that the person standing in front of him wasn’t a mere player, but a future author of a top-scoring college entrance exam essay. To so righteously slap the label of “the most shameless middleman in history” onto the Gravekeeper’s Servant—this was blatant nonsense spoken with a straight face.
One minute, two minutes… five full minutes passed, and the familiar notification sound never came.
Watching the whistleblower still standing there eagerly waiting, Ji Heng sighed. “You can't air dirty laundry in public. They won’t reply immediately.”
Su Er nodded, but didn’t forget to deliver one last jab to the Gravekeeper’s Servant: “Forming cliques for personal gain, abusing authority—I trust the game will not tolerate a host who defies the will of fairness.”
After witnessing this entire upright and proper “report,” Ji Heng chuckled. “Do you remember where we left off?”
Su Er replied seriously, “The reason why Xiao Cui wants Xia Zhi to kill her.”
Under normal circumstances, even a ghost wouldn’t do something like that without a reason.
Ji Heng looked out the window with a light chuckle. “No one does a losing trade. Xiao Cui is no exception.”
Su Er noticed that Ji Heng had been acting oddly today—he’d smiled more times than usual. Just like now, that faint smile had returned to his eyes.
He suddenly recalled a small detail: before entering the illusion, Ji Heng had asked Wang Sansi to repeat the mission content again.
Why go through that trouble?
The premise for asking was based on the possibility that the missions might differ.
“You’ve been in instances where the missions were different?”
Ji Heng: “Twice.”
A possibility suddenly occurred to Su Er. His pupils trembled slightly. “Xiao Cui… could she be a player?”
Ji Heng didn’t even treat it as a question but affirmed it outright: “The game prohibits players from killing each other. If Xia Zhi attacks, the one who’ll be punished is definitely her.”
Su Er’s grip on the onion tightened slightly. “Then what about Xu He—is he a ghost, a regular NPC, or a player?”
The players heading to Free Town all took on different roles. So far, the only ones they hadn’t interacted with were the newlyweds mentioned in the prompt.
Ji Heng looked at the item in his hand. “Just test it and we’ll know.”
The onion was tossed into the air and caught again. Su Er said, “No time like the present.”
He was more straightforward in action than in words—he went straight to Xiao Cui’s door. After knocking several times, a faint voice finally responded from inside: “Come in.”
Su Er didn’t move.
“The door’s not locked.”
Only then did he reach out and push it open.
The room was neat. Xiao Cui sat on the bed, with a pillow propped behind her lower back.
“Do you need something?” Her voice was slightly hoarse.
Su Er got straight to the point: “The dead man was crying blood but smiling. I suspect he was killed by a supernatural force.”
Xiao Cui’s shoulders trembled as she bowed her head—whether in laughter or fear was unclear. “Supernatural force… you mean a ghost?”
“There’ve been ghost murder rumors in town for a while. I’m worried about you.”
She had assumed he was here to pick a fight, but the sudden turn of tone caught her off guard.
Xiao Cui looked up, her confusion clearly genuine. “Worried… about me?”
Su Er nodded earnestly. “Women have heavier yin energy—easier to attract malicious spirits. Luckily, I know a method to restrain ghosts.”
With that, he suddenly took a step forward and began peeling an onion right in front of her.
Xiao Cui was half-lying on the bed, with the wall behind and Su Er in front—a position that was essentially inescapable. At first, she thought he was taking the chance to kill her, and she felt a flash of pleased anticipation. But it wasn’t long before she realized—Su Er was simply peeling layer after layer of onion.
Soon, her eyes began to water from the fumes, though the culprit wasn’t faring much better himself.
“Stay away from me!”
“Heavenly spirits, earthly spirits—begone, evil spirits!” Su Er crushed the onion with his hands and tossed it into the air, scattering pieces everywhere.
Taking advantage of Xiao Cui’s moment of distraction, he wiped away her tears.
His onion-juice-covered fingers touched her eyes, making her tear up even more. Suer quickly took out the bottle to collect them—his movements fluid and practiced.
The cool sensation of the bottle touching her eye startled Xiao Cui. She abruptly turned her face away and pushed him back. “What the hell are you doing?”
Su Er remained calm. “I just like seeing you cry for me.”
And with that, he turned and ran.
“Apologies,” Ji Heng stayed behind to clean up the mess. “He’s a bit unstable—has episodes from time to time.”
Xiao Cui’s eyes were still stinging. She snapped, “Then why didn’t you stop him just now?”
“The doctor said forcibly restraining him could trigger violent behavior.” Ji Heng apologized again and carefully cleaned up the onions around her. “Good night. Hope you have sweet dreams.”
He even gently closed the door on his way out.
Inside the room, Xiao Cui’s eyes were completely red—either from the onions or from sheer rage.
A cool breeze blew gently.
Su Er sat in the courtyard, staring at the bottle in his hands. “Now we’ll see if the tears inside evaporate.”
Ji Heng sat down next to him. “Not afraid of alerting the target?”
Su Er: “No matter how hard Xiao Cui racks her brain, she won’t guess the bottle’s real purpose.”
Items are usually understood to be weapons for attacking.
“If she really is a player, she might even feel pleased while being mad—thinking I plan to use her tears and the bottle to kill someone.”
Once sealed, the bottle greatly slowed the rate of evaporation. Even so, after a few minutes, they could clearly see with the naked eye that the liquid inside had halved.
“She’s not a ghost.” Su Er, for once, had been fooled—and the novelty of it gave him a strange sense of amusement. “That masterful paper-cutting skill really had me a few times.”
The paper-cutting under the moonlight had an excellent horror effect.
Ji Heng said, “A fall into the pit, a gain in your wit.”
Su Er sighed, “People really should learn a few more skills.”
Although the college entrance examination had canceled some policies for students with special talents, such skills were very useful in the game.
Just by looking at him, Ji Heng could tell Su Er had once again self-studied some odd reasoning. He gave up trying to get to the bottom of it and simply reminded, “Don’t try the same trick on Xu He again.”
Su Er understood. In terms of scheming, Xu He was far deeper than Xiao Cui.
“I’ll be cautious.”
Ji Heng expressed his approval. Though Su Er often acted unconventionally, he was a rare smart one—at the very least, he could take advice.
Among all the nonsense Su Er had spewed earlier to Xiao Cui, one line had actually been his genuine thought: that staff member from the Regulation Bureau was likely killed by a ghost. According to what Xu He said when kneeling before the incense burner, he deliberately led people to steal the burner, and the burner would take such people as sacrifices.
“The body being deliberately moved to the kitchen later on feels more like the work of a human, meant to pressure Xia Zhi,” Su Er frowned. “There’s one thing that’s really strange: if they’re also players, why go so far as to kill the others?”
Instances never directly assign kill-each-other tasks among players. The previous instance already showed this. Otherwise, it could’ve just selected one of them to be a ‘love killer,’ but it picked Qu Qingming, who had already died in the last round.
Ji Heng tapped the table lightly. “You’re getting off track.”
Su Er looked at him.
Ji Heng: “No point guessing what other players are thinking. The stamp ghost is the key.”
Uncovering the cause of the stamp ghost’s death would be like solving half of the illusion’s mystery.
Su Er thought for a few seconds and said, “I have an idea.”
This phrase had come up so often lately that Ji Heng was starting to get used to it.
Su Er said, “The previous system prompt was just a single sentence, and there were no restrictions on the trade.”
Then he cleared his throat and slowly spoke into the vast darkness: “Xu He killed the stamp ghost…” He deliberately paused, then added: “It was Xiao Cui… Xu He and Xiao Cui… The stamp ghost committed ‘suicide’…”
He paused a few seconds after each line.
Ji Heng rubbed his brow—this guy was blatantly throwing out guesses.
Finally, after a full minute of Su Er's nonsense, the mechanical system voice coldly rang out:
[‘Task update: ‘Stamp Ghost’s Trade’. Each player has only three chances to answer.’]
Su Er was not disappointed at all. In fact, he said calmly, “Fortunately, I just ruled out four incorrect answers.”
“That’s not really fortunate…” Ji Heng said.
Su Er: “Hmm?”
Ji Heng: “There aren’t that many players in this illusion. Otherwise, you could sell the wrong answers to others—while they avoid detours, you get a profit.”
“After messing around all night,” Ji Heng stood up and glanced at the sky. “Let’s go rest.”
No matter how high your physical power, dying from exhaustion in an instance is still possible.
Outside the door, a slender figure stood under the moonlight, hugging a pillow and looking around. When she saw Su Er and Ji Heng, she smiled awkwardly. “Can I crash here on the floor?”
Just an hour ago, Xia Zhi had left the kitchen full of furious determination—completely different from how she looked now.
Having a request to make, Xia Zhi could only tell the truth: “Actually, I was going to kill Xiao Cui. That shadow cutout is definitely related to her.”
Su Er raised an eyebrow. “Why’d you change your mind?”
“When I went to find her, her eyes were all red,” Xia Zhi said. “Wang Sansi previously said Xu He abused her, and I wasn’t sure whether to believe it—but now I think it’s true.”
“Funny thing is, I used to really hate people who just cry when wronged. But now I kind of… feel sorry for her.”
Because of her role, she had to play an abused wife and had been beaten for several days. In that moment, seeing Xiao Cui’s red-rimmed eyes, she suddenly couldn’t bring herself to do it.
After hearing Xia Zhi’s explanation, Su Er looked a little conflicted. “You might have potential as a screenwriter.”
Her imagination was so vivid—but the real reason Xiao Cui’s eyes were red was… an onion.
Xia Zhi looked puzzled.
Su Er took the initiative to open the door.
Xia Zhi stepped forward carefully, confirming that she was indeed being allowed to crash there, and sighed in relief.
The incense burner devoured people—it was too ominous. Su Er had also planned to sleep in Ji Heng’s room for safety. What was supposed to be one person per room turned into three sharing one room—cramped, to say the least.
Ji Heng let Su Er take the bed, Xia Zhi got the small sofa, and he himself took the floor.
Xia Zhi was still thinking about the paper-cutting and couldn’t sleep. When she turned over, she noticed Su Er was also awake, sitting on the bed muttering to himself in the dark.
She stared for two seconds and got so spooked that she sat bolt upright. Whatever sleepiness she’d managed to find was instantly gone.
She crept over to Ji Heng and whispered, "What’s he doing?"
Talking to himself like he’s possessed in the middle of the night—was he haunted?
Ji Heng, used to this behavior, replied flatly, "Filing a report."
“Huh?”
Sensing that Ji Heng had no intention of elaborating, Xia Zhi wisely went back to the little sofa.
Meanwhile, Su Er murmured in a voice barely audible: “If the stamp ghost’s trade updates in real time, that means the game’s will is present at all times. Hopefully it will also promptly respond to this report…”
Corpses littered the ground.
Among the mangled remains were both players and original inhabitants of the game world. One of them was a woman, stunningly beautiful, who had died from a companion’s sword through the heart.
A man bent down, dipped his finger in her blood, and dabbed it onto the forehead of a little clay figure.
That dot of red between the brows—blood was always the most vivid pigment.
The clay figure wasn’t bothered by the blood’s stench. It was actually delighted and wanted to add a six-petal lotus next.
Unfortunately, Mister Rose ignored it, looking instead toward the distant green hills. The flowers blooming around his ears grew even more vibrant in color.
“Team-wipe instances are always so lovely. And this time, it’s a double celebration.”
With the stamp in his pocket, Su Er had surely entered the Gravekeeper’s Servant’s instance by now.
Among all the hosts, Gravekeeper’s Servant was notorious for loving trades—and for treating players like dogs on a leash. Whether Su Er died, or Gravekeeper’s Servant got screwed, Mister Rose would lose nothing.
Just as he was thinking this, a game announcement arrived:
[The Host, Gravekeeper’s Servant has been suspended for abusing authority and compromising the fairness of the instance.]
Mister Rose smiled, soft laughter echoing through the valley.
But the joy didn’t even last three seconds before a private message followed:
[Please proceed immediately to the Free Town instance to take over the unfinished work of the suspended host.]
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