The villa was a complete mess.
Bullet holes left from the gunfight added a bloody hue to the floral wallpaper.
As Su Er walked in, the burly man with floral tattoos grinned. “You were overthinking it.”
Su Er raised an eyebrow.
The tattooed man sneered. “You warned us not to hurt any innocent guests—but there’s no such thing here.”
Hearing that, Su Er turned his gaze to the few trembling training camp students who had been forced into a corner.
“We only came to help because Lin Qian urged us to!” one of them hurried to explain.
Su Er's lips curled. “Help with what?”
The speaker fell silent. Naturally, they were there to help kill. Having just awakened to their new identities, they were full of arrogant delusions, desperate to latch onto a major power and secure a bright future.
Ignoring him, Su Er glanced around and finally spotted the hired hacker youth at the bay window.
“The one contacting the three major factions wasn’t Lin Qian,” the youth said, jumping down from the window. “It was Lin Chenghe, the second son of the Wanbaolin chairman.”
That Lin Qian was just a decoy wasn’t surprising to Su Er. Her constant craving for attention made it obvious she wasn’t hiding anything.
After a moment's thought, he walked over. Her doll-like face was now wearing a barely maintained look of composure.
Su Er spoke gently, exposing her intentions: “You’re trying to stall for time, waiting to be rescued.”
Lin Qian instinctively pressed her dry lips together.
Su Er’s voice was soft. “Tell me everything you know, and I’ll let you go.”
“Xiao Qian, he’s lying!” Lin Qian’s older sister, Lin Su, immediately shouted. “Don’t fall for it!”
“We’re good at extracting confessions,” said the tattooed man. “Dislocate the arm, or break the leg?”
Su Er shook his head. “They tried to kill me—I only brought you in for self-defense.”
The tattooed man scoffed. “Pathetic mercy.”
Su Er knelt on one knee before Lin Qian. “A gunfight, the daughter of a chairman… These words alone guarantee media frenzy. With this much noise, the news of you hurting students and teachers will come out sooner or later.”
Lin Qian’s eyes trembled.
Su Er continued, “Now guess—will the mastermind try to kill you under the guise of a rescue, to silence you permanently?”
The chairman’s eldest son was born to his first wife, while the other three children, including Lin Qian, were born to his current wife. The two factions were bitter enemies. Lin Qian knew full well that if inheritance fell to the eldest son, life would be miserable. So she always followed her second brother’s orders without question.
“It was Second Brother,” she finally said after a long silence, eyes squeezed shut. “He’s the one who made me do it.”
Lin Su tried several times to stop her sister, but couldn’t get through.
Su Er: “Why?”
Lin Qian shook her head. “I don’t know. He just said it was to protect Wanbaolin’s assets.” After a pause, she added, “But he did once mention that he would lead Wanbaolin to a new era of glory.”
Su Er took out the profile of a dead player and pointed to the host. “Who killed this person?”
Lin Qian said softly, “My sister and I were only responsible for dealing with the—”
“Xiao Qian!” Lin Su barked. “Are you insane?”
After her initial fear, Lin Qian’s face turned cold. “He’s right. Second Brother will have us killed to tie up loose ends.”
That man valued Wanbaolin above all else. He would surely find a way to ensure both the hostages and the ‘kidnappers’ were dead.
“We were only told to handle the students. The teacher was killed by someone my second brother arranged.”
Su Er watched her expressions carefully and determined that she was unlikely to be lying. He stood up.
Who killed the host… That was the game’s assigned task. The fact that no system prompt had appeared yet meant they hadn’t found the real culprits.
Su Er suspected it was something like tonight’s siege on Mister Pu Liu—an alliance of multiple forces, led by vampires. Unfortunately, this dungeon wasn’t one where he could bluff his way through like when he guessed the killer of the Stamp Ghost.
The game had its bottom line. After being warned once, it was best to keep a low profile.
He paused for a few seconds, then walked to the door and called Ji Heng to explain the situation.
It was a bit noisy on the other end, and Ji Heng’s voice sounded slightly muffled.
Su Er: “Where are you?”
“At Lin Chenghe’s house,” Ji Heng replied. “Got some interesting info out of Zhao Banjin.”
Su Er: “Looks like I’m a step behind.”
Ji Heng: “You can just say you hired me to take care of it.”
Su Er let out an ‘oh’ and figured that with Ji Heng’s skill, all he had to do now was quietly wait in the villa for the results.
Before hanging up, Ji Heng asked, “Where did the other players get taken?”
“Another city,” Su Er replied calmly. “They won’t be back anytime soon.”
When he’d hired the helicopter for the rescue, he already had a clear goal—during points settlement, the greatest advantage must be held by him and Ji Heng.
Sharing spoils? That didn’t fly in this dungeon.
After hanging up, the smile on Ji Heng's face vanished the moment he turned around. “Still not ready to talk?”
Lin Chenghe, known for his ruthless nature, was not someone who would be easily intimidated.
Ji Heng hadn’t come alone—Lin Chenghe’s residence was a fortress. Entering solo would be almost impossible, so seeing that the man was prepared to hold out till death, he left the job to Mister Pu Liu.
Mister Pu Liu, uninterested in interrogations, turned his gaze to the shadow outside the window.
A laugh, half sorrowful, half joyful, rang out.
Gravekeeper’s Servant appeared out of thin air inside the villa, eyes bloodshot with excitement. “This is what I’m good at!”
His fingers turned into withered vines and burrowed into Lin Chenghe’s veins. A wail tore from Lin Chenghe’s throat—the pain far worse than death by a thousand cuts.
As the agonized screams continued, the intrigue in the Gravekeeper’s Servant’s eyes gradually faded. He recalled removing the eyeball from Su Er’s body, letting the vines crawl around Su Er’s heart on purpose—and Su Er hadn’t even made a sound before passing out.
Now that was fun!
This one... was simply pathetic.
“I’ll talk,” the pampered rich heir finally gave in, no matter how cruel he was, he couldn’t withstand this kind of torment. He gritted his teeth and forced out the words weakly.
Gravekeeper’s Servant withdrew his vines.
Lin Chenghe’s face was ghostly pale, cold sweat dripping down his cheeks. “It was San Hua and Qi Ye of the Vampire Clan, Cheng Guo from the Werewolf Organization, Wang Ying from the Lightbringers, and Qian Xiaohu—they all participated in the ambush.”
A strange smile crept across the Gravekeeper’s Servant’s sorrowful face. “Are you sure you didn’t miss anyone?”
Lin Chenghe weakly shook his head.
Then, suddenly, he sneered. “What did I do wrong? In the original prophecy, Wanbaolin’s treasure would be stolen, its stock price would plummet, and it would face an unprecedented crisis.”
From the fragmented visions he’d seen, he vaguely heard people talking about “missions” and “snatching from the tiger’s mouth”… A group of strange outsiders bringing disaster through theft—didn’t they deserve to die?
Zhao Banjin, who had also been dragged here and tortured, now lay in the corner like a pile of mud. He scoffed, “I was pulled into the game for no reason, and to gain my freedom I worked with you to fight against these ‘evil forces’—was that wrong?”
If this were written in a history book, he could be glorified as the first man to blow the trumpet of freedom!
Lin Chenghe fell silent.
After partnering with Zhao Banjin, he had learned a few hidden truths about the game. The strong rule, the weak perish—there wasn’t much else to say now.
From the very first day in the instance, Ji Heng had never wasted time dwelling on right or wrong. What he cared about was tangible gain. After quietly listening to the emotional exchange, his sharp gaze suddenly landed on Zhao Banjin. “How did the two of you end up working together?”
Zhao Banjin was silent for a while. After a deep breath, he said, “In a vision of the future, I saw myself and him discussing cooperation. It was just a single fragment, but after I got information on Wanbaolin, I searched online and immediately knew who he was.”
Truthfully, Zhao Banjin had always harbored doubts. Except for the final scene where Su Er left the game—something he foresaw using his own ability—all the other visions had come to him in dreams.
In the dream, he saw a female ghost, and afterward more useful information appeared.
…Could it be that someone deliberately showed him those dreams to push him into cooperation? But to what end?
Zhao Banjin’s pupils trembled violently. He suddenly recalled Su Er’s words—
I was brought into the game by a prophet.
He had walked himself into a trap, unintentionally making it seem like Su Er and the game were on the same side. If he failed, it would mean the prophecy had no real power over the game.
“…So that’s how it is.” As realization struck, Zhao Banjin’s body trembled, and he opened his mouth, ready to expose everything.
“As a traitor, the game will make you disappear,” Ji Heng’s voice cut in at that moment, calm and weighty. “But you’ll likely die in the next instance. You still have time to return to the real world and get your affairs in order.”
He patted Zhao Banjin on the shoulder, uncharacteristically gentle. “Spend this time with your family.”
Zhao Banjin felt a chill spread through him. He understood what that meant—instances didn’t forbid internal killings. If he said another word, Ji Heng would make sure he died before the game could.
His nails dug into his palms as he clenched his fists—and chose silence.
Gravekeeper’s Servant sensed something was off and leaned closer. “What were you just about to say?”
Zhao Banjin inadvertently glanced at Ji Heng. The Gravekeeper’s Servant caught it and quickly said, “Tell me and I’ll protect you.”
“If I really said it, you’d just kill me, then laugh and say, ‘You actually believed the host’s nonsense.’”
Caught red-handed, Gravekeeper’s Servant wasn’t embarrassed in the slightest, already scheming up other ways to pry open his mouth.
But Ji Heng didn’t give him the chance. He repeated the list of attackers Lin Chenghe had just confessed.
A game prompt quickly followed—
[“Who killed the host?” Main storyline task complete. Thank you for your support.
Teleportation will commence in 10 seconds—
Ten, nine…]
As the countdown began, Zhao Banjin lifted his eyes to look at Ji Heng. “So that’s why you didn’t go to the villa with Su Er earlier.”
You likely knew I might expose something that would hurt Su Er.
“…It’s a pity I won’t get to see it—the kind of end people like you will eventually meet.”
As Ji Heng said, there was absolutely no way he would make it out of the next instance alive.
Sometimes, the Transfer Station gave people the illusion of salvation.
Stepping out of the instance and back into the station, Su Er felt his mood ease slightly.
But it lasted no more than three seconds before he noticed a crowd around him, all with unfriendly gazes. Someone sneered directly, “No wonder you’re the game’s lapdog—always walking out of an instance unscathed.”
Su Er glanced over and confirmed he didn’t recognize the speaker.
That person continued, increasingly indignant, “Do you even realize that behavior like yours only makes more people suck up to the game for profit? If this keeps up, what do you think will happen?”
No one would think of resisting—just like trafficked children who, for the sake of a decent meal, would sell out the others trying to escape.
Su Er raised an eyebrow and was about to speak when someone beat him to it.
“Fang Rongzhi,” a voice called out from a distance. “Not a bad name.”
Ji Heng walked toward them.
For a moment, Fang Rongzhi’s expression wavered, but he quickly pressed on, questioning, “Why would Grave Return take in someone who’s a threat to the group?”
Ji Heng didn’t respond immediately. He looked around, smiled, and said, “So, are you all here to uphold justice?”
They were all shrewd people—no one jumped out right away.
“Then I’ll assume you’re just here to watch,” Ji Heng continued, smiling. “Perfect, since we’ve got a crowd, I won’t need to send out private trades. I’ll offer up an item—anyone who can get rid of Mr. Fang here in the next instance can come claim it for free.”
Even the worst item could save your life in an instance if used right.
Feeling the growing hostility around him, Fang Rongzhi’s expression changed. “You—”
Ji Heng cut him off, his smile gone. “Someone who only knows how to turn the blade on their own people is a real menace.”
Instances were inherently competitive—sometimes with limited slots. In such life-or-death struggles, unity was a luxury. But if a true powerhouse emerged who could oppose the game itself, players would naturally reassess their alliances.
As for whether anyone would grovel to the game—It didn’t matter.
To be blunt, if kneeling and kowtowing could get you an item, everyone would fight to kneel first.
Survival always came first.
The atmosphere grew too tense, and finally someone stepped in to ease the situation with a forced laugh, “He was just caught up in the moment, young folks can be a bit hotheaded.”
“Righteous indignation?” Ji Heng glanced at Fang Rongzhi.
The latter’s eyes wavered under his gaze.
“Sounds more like blinded by jealousy to me.”
The person trying to mediate awkwardly backed off—there was no arguing with that.
Su Er was a newcomer, yet he had gained so many achievement points. How could that not breed resentment?
Especially from players still struggling inside instances—some imbalance of mindset was inevitable.
Ji Heng turned around, voice light and calm: “Everything I’ve promised has always worked.”
Fang Rongzhi shouted furiously, ranting about how Su Er had groveled to the game inside the instance. But this time, everyone silently backed away from him.
“No need to sympathize,” Ji Heng said as he approached Su Er. “This guy just wants you to become a living target for other players inside the instance.”
All he had done was shift the target.
“I have items too!” Fang Rongzhi cried out, panicking under the calculating gazes aimed at him.
But the moment he finished speaking, he realized he had said the wrong thing—wasn’t that just encouraging others to attack him in-game for loot?
How did it come to this?
He had planned for this to happen to Su Er!
From several minutes ago, Su Er had stopped paying attention to Fang Rongzhi. Suddenly, he clutched his chest.
Ji Heng frowned. “Not feeling well?”
Su Er shook his head. He could clearly feel his heart racing from that brief moment of being defended.
Normally, he wouldn’t have paid such a small detail any mind. But that phrase—“without meaning to plant a willow, a grove grows”—kept echoing in his head.
Mister Pu Liu had suggested using the lapdog lines as part of the game’s promotional video, which led to Su Er being targeted. And then Ji Heng showed up at the critical moment—his heartbeat faltered...
It was as if everything had come true.
Su Er took several deep breaths, warning himself that this was all part of some greater scheme—he had to stay in control.
Ji Heng noticed his strange expression and asked, “What’s wrong?”
Su Er pulled him aside and explained everything he had just been thinking.
Ji Heng was stunned at first, then couldn’t help laughing. “So you do have such adorable thoughts after all.”
Then his expression shifted slightly—adorable?
They locked eyes. Su Er quickly grabbed his wrist tightly and said, “Hold it together! We must not fall for Mister Pu Liu’s wicked plan!”
Firmly spoken, like someone who had just uncovered a world-shaking conspiracy.
Ji Heng looked up at the sky… Even more adorable.
The gray sky darkened in an instant. As the clouds thickened, Ji Heng’s expression returned to normal. He narrowed his eyes. “Maybe the game will give you all the achievement points it owed from the last instance.”
“…Can I refuse them?”
Most achievement points were tied to the host—but whether from reporting or being bailed out, none of it was anything to be proud of.
Once again, harsh reality proved that material rewards don’t bend to willpower.
A cold, familiar mechanical voice rang out just as the sky was fully consumed by clouds:
[Congratulations, player Su Er, for earning the achievement point: ‘Real-Name Reporter of Zhou the Exploiter.’]
Seeing the clouds still churning overhead, Su Er’s heart sank. Sure enough, the prompts continued:
[Congratulations, player Su Er, for earning the achievement point: ‘Only Birth, No Raising.’]
[Congratulations, player Su Er, for earning the achievement point: ‘Social Butterfly of the Rich.’]
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