Isn’t that right?
The four words landed with a heavy impact, faintly echoing through the surrounding space.
Su Er looked up at the clouds shifting slightly on the horizon, trying to give himself some credit… but those ripples were stirred up by his own righteous energy.
In midair, the Teng Snake Lord’s cold, snake-like eyes glinted with murderous intent.
Su Er didn’t expect this accusation to succeed. Previously, the Gravekeeper’s Servant could identify ghosts with a bottle, and Mister East Wind had interfered with the game multiple times—but Teng Snake Lord was different. If the accusation succeeded, it would be a literal literary inquisition.
The long-haired player leaned closer, whispering, “No need to point it out.”
Everyone could just quietly step back.
Su Er shook his head. The previous instance experience had proven that some ideas couldn’t be put into practice. Before speaking, he had deliberately glanced at Ji Heng, who gave a slight nod, indicating he approved of exposing it on the spot.
Some players tried to step back a few paces. The Teng Snake Lord flew to the side and back, impatiently flicking the tip of his tail, seemingly to block them.
A player raised an eyebrow and asked, “Since when can the host stop normal activity?”
The atmosphere grew tense.
Su Er broke the silence: “We don’t know how far the path to the entrance is. Standing here is a waste of energy—it’s slow killing.”
Sharp words!
Many players’ minds subconsciously echoed those three words.
Even members of the same faction thought this, let alone the host—Teng Snake Lord even seemed ready to lash out.
At the critical moment, the game’s prompt sounded—
[Special instance passage entrance is about to close. All players receive compensation: Strength +10, Spirit +10, Charm +7.
The passage will reopen soon.]
Everyone looked at each other, instinctively about to discuss, but Teng Snake Lord’s scales were still bristling. With a flick of his tail, he teleported all players away in an instant.
In a blink, Su Er saw several people exiting through the revolving doors, shopping bags in hand.
Su Er unbuckled his seatbelt, rolled down the windows completely, letting the wind blow in, and sighed: “Feels so empty.”
Thrown in inexplicably, then abruptly driven out.
Ji Heng pointed out a practical benefit: “The compensation is enough for you to enter two more instances.”
Su Er, uneasy, thought: “The game would rather give rewards than let players stay—it doesn’t make sense logically.”
If they had walked straight to the entrance of Deception, it wouldn’t have affected the instance. Why intervene unnecessarily? After pondering for a moment, he frowned at the passersby: “Could there be a limit on the number of players?”
Ji Heng tapped his fingers on the steering wheel: “Doesn’t the labyrinth seem like a gatekeeper?”
Su Er thought about it and nodded—the metaphor fit.
“What if it requires the blood of a living person to satisfy the gatekeeper?”
Su Er withdrew his gaze from the outside world, his relaxed expression gone. He said flatly: “That would be pretty unfair.”
Before the teleportation, he faintly saw the outer wall of the labyrinth undulating in the wind, as if venting its displeasure.
Having just criticized it, Su Er tilted his head to the side: “If we enter the instance now, reach halfway, and the entrance to Deception suddenly opens, would it force us to leave?”
Forced summons in this scenario would at least require some compensation.
For such meticulous rule-exploiting behavior, Ji Heng thought he was used to it, yet it still expanded his perspective. He shook his head: “Since the passage will reopen soon, entering the instance now should be restricted.”
That one sentence extinguished Su Er’s excitement. He pursed his lips and sighed in disappointment.
“The supermarket is just below the mall,” Su Er said, glancing at the time, hand on the car door: “I can just take the bus back.”
“No need. Going to the supermarket was just an excuse anyway.”
“......”a
Ji Heng remained calm: “Otherwise, if I gave you the answers while sending you, it would have been a waste of time with all the back-and-forth courtesy.”
Hearing this, Su Er quietly fastened his seatbelt as the car started moving again.
Courtesy is different from politeness—it still matters.
Back home, Su Er invited Ji Heng in for tea and casually said: “You can look around freely, even go through my things.”
Having lived there for so many years, he had never noticed anything unusual. A third-party perspective might reveal new findings.
Ji Heng didn’t refuse. Starting with the family photo on the table, he examined the place where Su Er had lived for over a decade.
As for Su Er, nothing could shake his resolve to practice. He entered his room alone to work on exercises, even setting a timer to follow an exam-like schedule.
Just as he was immersed in writing, a familiar scorching heat spread across his chest.
The last stroke of his character went beyond the writing grid. Su Er furrowed his brow: “Again?”
How long had it been?
Having gone through this before, he calmly put down his pen, waiting for the burning wave to disperse through his body.
Nothing changed; the sensation of losing consciousness hit him instantly. When his mind cleared and he blinked, he realized he had re-entered the instance.
“Welcome to the world of Seven Days, Seven Nights…” Unlike before, there was no cunning tone—only a purely formal voice.
The Teng Snake Lord still floated in midair, though the tip of his tail drooped. Mechanically, he repeated the rules and added: “A brand-new labyrinth awaits your challenge.”
Looking around, Su E noticed the environment had changed. The first time he came, a few trees were visible; now, not even a single weed could be seen. The labyrinth was the same, but the “Ghost Gate” sign was gone, replaced by a wooden sign at the entrance, roughly painted in red: “Entrance.”
“Looks like it’s just been moved.” He spoke matter-of-factly: “The labyrinth has been shifted a bit further back.”
The Teng Snake Lord replied coldly: “Time is limited. There’s no chance for further adjustments. This time, the exit is right across.”
Judging from the length on both sides, the overall area had shrunk.
The players didn’t look particularly relieved. The Lord’s words confirmed a chilling truth: the labyrinth was not only alive, it could move on its own.
“Look on the bright side, we got free stats.” Someone sighed. “Besides, it’s a bit stronger than the previous design.”
That was true heart-and-soul murder.
After distributing the candles, the Teng Snake Lord’s tone turned both sinister and gentle: “Wish you all a pleasant night.”
Skipping any discussion, he flicked his tail, urging them into the labyrinth.
Night had fully fallen, and under a thin mist, the labyrinth felt like an underground pipe, with players reduced to rats struggling to survive in a cold, damp, dark world.
Not knowing the internal layout, everyone initially walked together, lighting a candle every seven players.
At a narrow turn, Su Er accidentally touched the wall.
Soft. Cold.
He wasn’t the only one. The long-haired player gripped his candle tightly: “Feels a bit like the intestines of a monster.”
Ji Heng whispered: “When a python eats a human, isn’t it swallowed whole?”
The long-haired player swallowed hard: “Let’s just think about how to get out first.”
Ji Heng turned slightly, and Su Er spoke for him: “Leaving isn’t difficult.”
Everyone’s footsteps froze. Under the flickering candlelight, their faces appeared extremely pale.
The words stopped midway.
No one urged them forward. Once inside, even the strongest would have to pay a price to break free. Ji Heng’s intention was clear—the cost would be shared by all.
“Name your price.”
Ji Heng: “Three items.”
“......”a
A bargain.
“Are you sure?”
Ji Heng: “Success isn’t guaranteed, but even failure has its benefits.”
Someone caught on: “There’s a loophole.”
Ji Heng nodded.
That person immediately looked at Su Er: “What are you reporting this time?”
Su Er paused, then asked: “Why would I report anything for no reason?”
His previous three reports: one involved the Gravekeeper secretly causing trouble, one was coerced by Mister East West, and the last had failed.
In short: completely innocent.
“I’ll contribute one of the three items,” the long-haired player cut off the pointless chatter, decisively: “But if we fail, and we continue as a small group, I get the last candle.”
There was no food supply in the labyrinth; time was precious. The players quickly reached an agreement and made the deal.
Su Er looked up: “Good thing the labyrinth isn’t too high.”
Presumably, the monsters were confident no one would attempt a high-point breakthrough.
A nearby player’s ears perked up: “You’re not thinking of breaking through from above, are you?”
The scene of the labyrinth consuming a mouse into a pool of blood was still vivid.
“Lift me first,” Su Er said without answering, “Count thirty seconds in your mind, then raise me higher.”
He began smearing something on his face.
“What is he doing…” The long-haired player froze, terrified that every time he looked at Su Er, his mind went blank.
“Don’t zone out, and don’t look at him,” Ji Heng whispered sharply. “You only have five minutes.”
The player with the best balance formed the human base, holding Su Er up.
The weight pressed down; they often got distracted, reminding themselves to focus on the movement and not on Su Er himself. “Left turn!”
Speaking up, he realized no one was listening. Su Er cursed. He hadn’t expected the item to be so effective. Resolute, he removed his jacket, bit his finger, and quickly sketched a floor plan. Unfortunately, the height was limited; he could only see the nearby section.
Judging the time, Su Er jumped down.
Ji Heng frowned at the wound on his hand.
“Minor injury,” Su Er said. “I’ll continue scouting at the fork on the map.”
“What item did you use?” a player couldn’t help but ask.
Su Er smiled: “Privacy.”
Outside the labyrinth.
The Teng Snake Lord had been ready to watch players tire toward death when, suddenly, a black head appeared. The next second, Su Er casually began sketching, and the labyrinth didn’t devour him.
After observing quietly for a few seconds, the Lord suddenly raised his voice: “Coal-face camouflage?”
It remembered this item. When East Wind created it, he was ridiculed by other hosts for a long time.
That idiot salted fish—did he end up in a newspaper?
Meanwhile, Su Er and the others followed the floor plan, suddenly appearing at the labyrinth’s perimeter.
Su Er wasn’t surprised, checking the wound on his fingertip casually: “Too much interference, maybe?”
The prompt sounded before the host spoke: [The entrance will be revamped and reopened in three days. All players receive a compensation: Tianquan Water x1.]
Su Er squinted; it sounded like a healing item.
A player named Li Zicang was excited: “Why prevent us from passing if we didn’t break any rules?”
The Teng Snake Lord was silent for a moment, then descended slightly: “The labyrinth is the key to entering Deception. The prerequisite for opening it is to absorb enough fear, panic, and blood.”
“No wonder…” Li Zicang’s excitement faded, replaced by thoughtfulness: “You need to gather many players at once.”
Su Er: “So entering the labyrinth always involves casualties?”
The Lord sneered: “Bleeding doesn’t mean death.”
By normal completion methods, progressing through it naturally generates fear and other negative emotions.
Before Su Er could speak, a card appeared out of nowhere, floating gently down. Hesitating for a moment, he caught it. It displayed a serpent-shaped labyrinth: “This is…”
“The game’s arrangement. Next time the entrance opens, you cannot enter the labyrinth.”
Su Er’s expression turned cold: “That’s a personal right. The game emphasizes fairness. There’s no reason…”
The Teng Snake Lord transformed into a delicate man, interrupting him: “You just can’t enter the labyrinth. It doesn’t strip your right to enter Deception.”
Su Er paused: “What do you mean?”
The Lord expressionlessly: “It means you’re being escorted in.”
“......”
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