The host’s “get lost” was said carelessly, but his expression was unusually serious.
The achievement points had come out of nowhere. Lowering his head, Su Er noticed that his badge seemed to have grown even bigger than before. He couldn’t help sighing… this was a one-way path to evolving into a shield.
Green Lotus Sage had already made his stance clear—staying longer would only make him an annoyance.
Since he had gained an extra team item, he felt it wasn’t a loss, and asked realistically, “How do I use it?”
“Break it open, each of you take half.”
The seed’s surface was smooth—breaking it barehanded sounded impossible. Yet when he tried uncertainly, it split with ease.
He handed half to Ji Heng, but there was no instant teleportation.
At that moment, everyone’s attention was on the two of them, waiting to see what would happen next.
Green Lotus Sage continued walking forward. After a moment’s hesitation, Su Er followed behind.
The group stopped in a forest park.
In the morning air, even the breeze carried a faint fragrance, calming the heart.
Looking at the artificial lake, Green Lotus Sage said softly, “Jump in.”
Su Er’s brow twitched—he had reason to suspect murder.
After saying this, Green Lotus Sage said no more, waiting for them to decide on their own.
The wind swept by three times. Then came two splashes, one after the other. Apart from the first instant, the lake surface showed no ripples at all.
The last thing Su Er’s eyes reflected was the pines and cypresses across the shore. In his ears faintly came a voice: “When you face life-or-death, you can use that slip of paper. Repeat three times in your heart: Blossom.”
The tone carried a peculiar flavor—half teasing, half the mockery of a bystander.
No time to think further—he plunged completely into darkness.
The team item given by the host was of very high quality. This was by far the most comfortable teleportation—his body wrapped in a gentle force, rising and falling as if upon the clouds.
Su Er actually enjoyed it, almost wanting to give a five-star review.
In the distance stood an overpass, neon lights flashing in dazzling colors. The roads teemed with cars, everywhere were people returning late at night.
Ji Heng stood in the square, behind him middle-aged and elderly folk dancing in formation. Circling the outer edge once, he quickly scanned every corner—no trace of Su Er.
“Big brother.” A little boy came up to him. “Someone told me to give this to you.”
Turning around, about to point under a tree, the boy suddenly exclaimed, “Huh? He’s gone—it was an uncle with a cane.”
Ji Heng gently patted the boy’s head. “Go play.”
After the boy left, he opened his tablet. A pop-up automatically appeared on the screen:
Please select teammates to join (up to two; team must be formed before dawn).
Zhu Yu (3 points)
Xu Yangyang (1 point)
Ji Heng (1 point)
Xu Fan (4 points)
Su Er (5 points)
Wu Baike (2 points)
Jia Kanhua (1 point)
Liu Lang (3 points)
Ji Heng immediately tapped Su Er’s name. A specific location appeared below. He tapped several others as well, each showing their addresses—apparently, before confirming, he could change his mind anytime.
He touched his pocket, confirming that the game had provided a wallet.
Walking quickly to the roadside, he hailed a taxi. “To Ming Jiayuan Community, 236 Xinhua South Road.”
The cab drove onto the overpass, high-rises flashing by outside the window.
Ji Heng’s gaze was dark. His own teleportation point had been a square—easy to find, no danger. By that logic, the higher a player’s initial score, the more dangerous their location… Su Er was undoubtedly one of the “exemplary cases.”
At the thought, he shook his head. “What a cursed kid.”
The driver had the radio on and didn’t catch his mutter. With a local accent he said, “They’re saying Ming Jiayuan’s been haunted these last two days—true or not?”
Ji Heng answered flatly, “I’m going to see a friend, don’t really know.”
The ride was quick. Twenty minutes later, he got out at the entrance of Ming Jiayuan Community, paid the fare, and stood staring ahead into the night.
It was an old complex, no security guard. The entrance was a rusty iron gate. Just then, a worker finishing his night shift was walking from across the street.
Ji Heng stopped him. “Excuse me, how do I get to Building No. 3?”
Yawning, the worker pointed in a direction.
In front of the apartment building grew a row of trees, left untrimmed for years. A few thick branches had been bent low by the wind, forcing people to stoop as they passed.
Keeping close to the side, Ji Heng walked lightly, his footsteps barely making a sound. Up ahead, he spotted two furtive figures glancing about nervously, so he slipped behind an old tree.
Unexpectedly, two others were already hiding there—one crouched low, the other pressed flat against the trunk.
By the faint moonlight, they could just make out the names on each other’s chest tags. All of them were in the one-point group.
No one mentioned forming a team. Even added together, they would only have three points.
As they eyed each other with mutual disdain, the silence of the night was broken—
“Is the info reliable? It’s almost time.”
“Still ten minutes before midnight. Just wait.”
The two suspicious figures ahead were whispering to each other, loitering near the entrance of Unit 1.
Ji Heng frowned. Su Er’s position also showed as Unit 1, Room 101.
23:56, inside a rented flat.
A woman with delicate features closed the refrigerator door. As she turned, her foot suddenly slipped; she barely caught herself on the table.
There was no time to wonder why there was water on the floor when the place hadn’t been mopped for days. She immediately protected her belly, bent over, sweating profusely.
There was still a month to go before her due date, but something felt wrong. She tried to call for help, but the pain left her with no strength. Supporting herself on the table, she staggered toward the bedroom to get her phone.
Then the unthinkable happened—the baby suddenly slipped out of her body.
The woman froze, as if all her strength had been drained in an instant, and fainted on the spot.
Outside the unit door.
“Almost time.” Glancing around, the two men entered the building. One pulled out a prepared key and smoothly opened the door.
The sound of a baby crying came from inside.
“That old Taoist wasn’t bluffing!” The tall, thin man exclaimed, hurriedly cutting the umbilical cord and scooping the baby into his arms. “Quick!”
Ignoring the unconscious woman, his partner pulled a civet cat from a bag and set it beside her.
Players who had been tailing them secretly were stunned at the sight. “What era is this? They’re seriously doing a civet-cat-for-prince swap?”
Still inside the dilapidated rental.
The noise wasn’t loud, but guilt made the culprits hypersensitive.
Startled, the tall, thin man spun around to see several figures at the doorway. After a moment’s daze, he barked, “I’ll run with the kid, you cover me!”
His partner cursed, drew a knife, slashed wildly at the air, and leapt out the window.
The tiny ten-square-meter room was easy to scan—no one else was there. Xu Yangyang’s eyelids twitched; he immediately lunged for the infant.
Another player clearly had the same thought, setting his sights on the baby. As he vaulted out the window in pursuit, his mind was filled with one shocked thought: Wait, in this instance you can actually reincarnate?
Ji Heng didn’t join the chase. He first called emergency services, then carefully looked around the room. After a moment’s thought, he bent down to pick up the small animal on the floor, brushing aside the fluff on its chest.
A tiny chest tag, no bigger than a fingernail, peeked out.
“So it really is you…”
Su Er widened his feline eyes, feeling the force restraining him gradually dissolve. He tried to make a sound: “Ah—”
Realizing he could speak again, he smoothed down the fur on his chest that had been ruffled. His mouth was parched, so he instinctively flicked out his tongue.
Ji Heng offered him a sip of water.
Once his thirst was eased, Su Er said helplessly, “In the story of the civet-cat swap, the prince survives. The one in danger is the civet cat.”
Ji Heng stroked his fur. “How did you end up like this?”
“The moment I opened my eyes, I was inside a black sack. Couldn’t speak, couldn’t use my powers. Only now am I slowly recovering.”
Ji Heng: “What about your item?”
Su Er: “If I want, I can summon it—but I can’t use it.”
Mainly because his paws weren’t as nimble as fingers.
“Strange.” Ji Heng frowned, then draped a piece of clothing over the unconscious woman. He dared not move her any further.
While waiting for the ambulance, Ji Heng glanced at the civet for a few seconds. “Want me to check your identity?”
Su Er looked puzzled. What was there to check about a cat?
“Your gender.”
“......”a
Before his paw could swipe, the tablet gave a beep, saving Ji Heng just in time. He sat down and placed the cat on his lap.
A line of text appeared at the center of the screen: Would you like to form a team with player Su Er?
Ji Heng pressed confirm. The system notified them that the team was successfully formed.
Su Er drooped his head. “I don’t even have a tablet.”
“With you here, I still can’t use it.”
Faced with harsh reality, Su Er chose to let it go and pointed out the immediate problem: “The police will definitely question you later.”
Since there was an ID card in his wallet, he could avoid the awkwardness of being treated as an undocumented person. Ji Heng had no intention of leaving. “This woman’s situation is very strange. We might be able to find a breakthrough through her.”
Leaving now would only make it easier for him to be labeled a suspect.
The ambulance arrived quickly. The woman was lifted onto a stretcher, and the two of them followed into the back of the vehicle.
There weren’t many cars at night, so the ride to the hospital went smoothly.
The woman was wheeled into the emergency room. Because of the unusual circumstances, Ji Heng paid part of the fee in advance and quietly sat on a bench, waiting for the police to arrive.
To avoid being caught on camera for lip-reading, he deliberately kept his head lowered while speaking.
Recalling the earlier conversation of those two men outside the unit door, Ji Heng murmured, “They knew the baby’s exact birth hour.”
Being able to know that proved this world involved the supernatural.
Su Er rested his head on Ji Heng’s arm. “No need to speculate. I’m already the best example.”
Ji Heng shook his head. “Normally, the higher your team score, the more advantages you gain. If nothing goes wrong, you should be able to recover before dawn.”
Su Er shook out his fur. “So I turned into a cat just to complete some kind of test?”
Ji Heng nodded and opened the tablet.
Su Er pressed a paw against one spot. “This Xu Fan has four points. Should we go find him?”
Ji Heng shook his head and tapped on his own name. The location still showed as the plaza.
“The tablet only gave the initial coordinates,” Su Er reasoned. “After wasting so much time, going now might be pointless.”
Ji Heng: “The initial choice is critical. High-scoring players won’t be able to escape from danger. Low-scoring ones—aside from staying put to be found by people at the same stage—have no choice but to take the initiative.”
Forming teams with low scores was meaningless. Besides, experienced players would inevitably choose the latter.
Su Er shifted into a reclining pose. “What happens if you fail to form a team?”
Ji Heng uttered a single word: “Death.”
Su Er’s pupils shrank, and he lifted his head to stare at him.
“The host won’t go to such lengths arranging a team-forming game without bloodshed. Otherwise it would be a waste of effort.” Ji Heng spoke calmly. “As for those with very low scores, I doubt they’ll have a good end either.”
As a cat, Su Er’s voice hadn’t changed much, just softened, carrying a bit of kittenish tone. After hearing the analysis, he blurted, “Society, society.”
Ji Heng flicked his tail. “Be serious.”
The hospital was quiet at night, the sound of footsteps loud against the floor. He stopped teasing the cat as two police officers, one older and one younger, approached.
Ji Heng described the whole matter as a heinous child-abduction attempt. When the police asked about his home address, he preemptively said, “I heard Ming Jiayuan was haunted these past few days, so I wanted to stream it live.”
He paused and deliberately asked, “Could I post this online?”
The police already disliked influencers whose live streams interfered with investigations. Hearing this, they subconsciously labeled him as a difficult young man.
“Not for now.”
That was when Ji Heng slipped in the more outlandish detail: “It seemed the kidnappers knew in advance this woman would have an accident at home. One of them even mentioned an ‘old Taoist.’”
The older officer’s pen paused mid-recording.
Ji Heng feigned the persona of a chatterbox. “If I could post this online, I’d go viral.”
The police quickly tried to dissuade him.
Ji Heng finished with, “Leave me your contact info. I covered the woman’s expenses.”
That suited them perfectly. Since many details still needed clarifying, they not only gave him the station’s number but also their personal mobile. They urged him to contact them if he remembered more.
Not wanting to overplay it, Ji Heng nodded, carrying Su Er away.
Behind them, the younger officer muttered, “Why are strange things happening more and more lately?”
The elder sternly warned, “Don’t say what shouldn’t be said.”
Near the hospital were shops open all night. Ji Heng bought plenty of snacks, tucked Su Er into a plastic bag, and covered him with the snacks. Then he booked a short-stay hotel room.
Once inside, Su Er wriggled free for air.
“Sorry,” Ji Heng explained evenly, “most hotels don’t allow pets.”
Su Er jumped onto the window ledge for fresh air. Suddenly, he realized how agile a cat’s body was. Looking down over the cityscape, he felt a rush of heroic pride.
“Come down,” Ji Heng said.
Su Er flicked his tail. “Every pet has the right to be willful.”
He emphasized the word pet.
Before he’d had enough swaying, his body suddenly stiffened. A strange chill washed over him. Su Er first touched his hands—and discovered he was stark naked, pressed against the glass.
At this moment, he finally understood why Ji Heng had booked a room… Dawn hadn’t broken yet, and there wasn’t a clothing store nearby.
He gave an awkward laugh, wrapped himself in the quilt, and moved forward.
“Your guess is spot-on.”
He had taken the form of a civet-cat, mainly for the sake of the team game. In other words, now that he had returned to human form, did that mean most people had already managed to team up?
A knock at the door cut off his thoughts.
The corridor was empty, with only a tablet left on the ground. Ji Heng picked it up and handed it to Su Er: “Yours.”
Su Er frowned. This time the host was being far too mysterious.
The tablet showed a new notification: Check the morning news.
Not wanting to miss it, he quickly set an alarm, then used the remaining time to catch up on sleep.
Ji Heng stood by the window for a while and only went to bed when dawn was near.
6:30, the morning news began right on time.
The first few stories were about civil affairs, but before moving on to the next segment, the anchor’s expression grew more solemn: “Last night, a horrifying murder occurred in our city. A woman was brutally killed with a tree branch impaled into her neck…”
Su Er hurriedly searched for the report on his tablet. On the forums, there were uncensored photos—the crime scene was extremely gruesome.
The woman’s slender neck had been treated like a vase. The flower branch inserted into it had been carefully trimmed and arranged exactly according to the rules of floral art.
“Beautiful.” “Creative.” … To his disgust, many comments even praised it as a work of art.
Ignoring those disturbing remarks, he kept scrolling down. One particular comment caught his eye:
[User001: I live nearby, I was terrified! And not far from the crime scene, someone was hit by a car and killed last night.]
When he turned the page, the site froze for a moment, and after refreshing, the post was already deleted.
Exiting the browser, Su Er noticed a new program had appeared on the desktop called Player Squad. When he opened it, the names Xu Fan and Wu Baike were gray, marked with their times of death. Everyone else’s names were in red.
Su Er’s eyes sharpened: “If you hadn’t arrived in time last night, I would’ve been in grave danger.”
The envelope icon in the upper-right corner flashed. A message sent two minutes ago notified players to gather at Hongquan Mall at 10 a.m.
He turned to tell Ji Heng, but saw him engaged in a group chat.
Instinctively, Su Er glanced at his own tablet—there was also a chat app. Inside was a verification request to pull him into the group. After some thought, he tapped Accept.
The group owner’s avatar was a limping duck with a crutch, username Princess Camellia.
Checking the profile, Su Er saw the gender field marked male, and the personal signature was just three words: The Host.
The corner of his mouth twitched involuntarily. Then he looked at his own account information—most likely auto-filled during game registration. His name and age were all real. He tried to change them, but everything was grayed out and unclickable.
Giving up, he sent a message: [Why only three people?]
[Princess Camellia: Players with scores too low are still running for their lives, they haven’t noticed yet (smile).]
Another message popped up right after:
[Princess Camellia: I heard you’re good at reading comprehension @Su Er. How about showing me a performance?]
Staring at this message, Su Er raised a brow. With only himself, Ji Heng, and the host in the group, he felt less restrained about speaking.
He looked up at Ji Heng: “Someone’s provoking me.”
Ji Heng’s lips curled slightly: “Talk back.”
To make sure the host wasn’t an impostor, Su Er probed: [Do you know what bsj is?]
[Princess Camellia: Isn’t that your companion’s Certain death-end scenario? I even went out of my way to secure the host’s role this round just to watch your performance (smile).]
Su Er decided to indulge him and began “performing”:
[Among the false information we’ve seen, there was an interesting piece of inner monologue: Darkness is about to arrive. I long to see a young soul… So here’s the question: this was Ji Heng’s self-reflection before entering the game. Time flies. Hasn’t the darkness already arrived?]
After a brief pause, he continued:
[If darkness has already fallen, why hasn’t the instance world been destroyed? I can’t help but start doubting the authenticity of this world in front of us.]
Just as he was about to send more messages, he failed—
You have been muted by the administrator for one hour.
“......”
Su Er’s brow twitched. He privately messaged Princess Camellia: [Are you seriously this thin-skinned?]
He took a sip of water, but the mute still wasn’t lifted. His face expressionless, he spammed a string of smiley emojis at him.
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