The wail of the siren started up, the car pulled away with them inside.
The seat was hard, yet gave a strong sense of safety.
Ji Heng said, “Get some sleep. I’ll wake you when we arrive.”
Su Er nodded, leaned back, adjusted himself into a comfortable position, and closed his eyes to rest.
The officer on guard beside them frowned. “Show some respect in your attitude.”
Without opening his eyes, Su Er let Ji Heng answer slowly, “We reported the case last night. There are some discrepancies between the written record and what was said online, but nothing major at the core.”
Strictly speaking, it didn’t count as maliciously spreading false information.
The officer instinctively looked toward the passenger seat up front, but could only see the back of his captain’s head, unable to read his expression.
The scar-faced man turned his head slightly. “My surname is Li.”
Su Er opened his eyes then. “Captain Li.”
Li Shuo was a little surprised. He had assumed this young man would be a troublemaker, but it turned out he was actually polite. He switched off the siren and told the driver to slow down. “Go on then, what’s your purpose?”
Su Er raised his brows.
“I’ve read the statement,” Li Shuo said. “Not bad, but it’s missing something.”
Whenever he couldn’t gauge the situation, Su Er usually chose silence, signaling Ji Heng to take over.
“We are Taoists,” Ji Heng said, blunt and shocking. “We happened to discover some unsavory matters. It is our duty to exorcise demons and uphold the Way.”
To say such things openly in a police car seemed absurd.
Yet Ji Heng calmly pulled out his ID. “You can check it. I have some reputation in the field.”
Li Shuo took the ID, snapped a picture, and sent it off. It wasn’t long before a reply came back.
The screen was privacy-shielded, so Su Er couldn’t see the content. But he guessed they had already verified it.
He crossed his arms, shut his eyes again, and resumed resting, not particularly worried.
Hosts were usually reliable in handling things. Since Princess Camellia had instructed them to enter the temple as Taoists and had already persuaded the abbot, their player identities were likely arranged in advance.
The facts lined up with the speculation. The transmitted records confirmed that Ji Heng was indeed a capable Taoist. As for Su Er, he was subconsciously lumped into the same category, with no deeper check into his identity.
“It’s best if everyone cooperates,” Ji Heng said evenly. “That pregnant woman going into premature labor wasn’t an accident. Someone was behind it.”
At those words, Su Er cracked his eyes open a slit. He saw the other man’s gaze, cold as a deep pond, as though born to calculate and strategize.
“......”a
From long ago, he knew Ji Heng could put on an act—better than himself. And it seemed this ability only grew sharper with time.
Even Su Er, practiced at lying without a change in expression, was momentarily impressed, let alone the others.
Li Shuo asked, “The people in the temple—are they part of it too?”
“Same circle, that’s all.” Ji Heng’s tone showed a flicker of impatience. “I don’t want money. I just want to clean house.”
Li Shuo only believed him halfway. Still, there was a premise for cooperation. On balance, it wasn’t a loss for them.
After weighing it a moment, he laid things bare. “Cooperation is possible, but you’ll sign a confidentiality agreement, and your lives will be under certain surveillance during this period.”
There remained the possibility these two were undercover.
“That’s all?” Ji Heng asked.
Li Shuo: “The core matters won’t be accessible to you.”
“Fine.”
They were taken to a hotel, where staff were waiting to receive them.
“Captain.” After the others walked off, a young officer hurriedly asked, “Isn’t it too rash to let two strangers join us?”
“We’re just using them as thugs,” Li Shuo replied coolly. “If they have the ability, we’ll reward them later. If not, we don’t have to do a thing—the fight itself will take its toll on them.”
Hotel.
The hotel bed was far softer than the temple’s.
After carefully checking to make sure there were no bugs in the room.
Su Er stretched lazily. “Looks like your gamble paid off.”
Ji Heng: “Whether it’s the dark resurrection the host mentioned or the calamity hinted at in the false leads, both point to a disaster on a wide scale.”
Before such a disaster arrived, the government couldn’t possibly be completely unaware.
Drawing the curtains shut, Su Er analyzed, “From the information so far, it’s connected to parasites.” He paused to think, then asked, “If the task is to eliminate the first invader, does that mean we have to find the parasite’s mother host?”
The evidence wasn’t sufficient, so Ji Heng didn’t conclude. He shook his head. “Rest early. Tomorrow, we’ll see what we can pry out of those people.”
At 4:30 in the morning, a notification tone chimed.
Su Er, now a very light sleeper, woke instantly and saw that Xu Yangyang had uploaded a photo.
In the photo, the young man’s eyes were stuffed full of flower branches. Zooming in, it looked as if the branches had grown out of his body. The way he died was eerily similar to Xu Fan’s.
Straining to make out the name on the badge, Su Er frowned. “It’s Liu Lang.”
[Xu Yangyang: @Su Er @Ji Heng; Lucky you two ran in time!]
The message had barely been out for thirty seconds when the system notification appeared:
—Xu Yangyang has been muted by an administrator for three hours.
Su Er chuckled. “A real talent.”
On the surface, he was making a joke, but in truth it was a way of letting them know what was happening there, indirectly doing them a favor.
The electronic screen was too glaring in the dark. Su Er switched on the bedside lamp. “Liu Lang was strong, and yet he died.”
Ji Heng, who had seen such things many times before, only said, “Adaptability matters, sometimes.”
Su Er lay down again. It had only been a day, and already three players were dead—this was the highest initial death rate of any dungeon he’d entered. His eyes stared blankly at the ceiling. “Weren’t the eggs supposed to dissolve in the mucous membranes? How could flowers still grow in their bodies?”
“There are many possibilities,” Ji Heng replied casually, listing a few. “Quantitative change leading to qualitative change… the eggs gaining strength at night… or perhaps—”
He broke off mid-sentence, sending a private message to Xu Yangyang, asking him to check whether Liu Lang had had sex before dying.
Half an hour later, Xu Yangyang replied: [Just finished running for my life, but I checked. Looked like he had. Want a photo?]
Ji Heng declined that bit of “thoughtfulness” and turned to Su Er.
Su Er immediately searched online for Xu Fan’s death photos. Most had been censored. It took great effort to dig up one.
At the time, he had focused only on the manner of death, overlooking many details. For example, the dead man’s clothes were unusually disheveled, the zipper of his jeans only halfway pulled up. With the case only a day old, the police had yet to release the cause of death.
Only someone utterly unhinged would indulge such urges in an instance. If it had been forced, that was also unlikely—with items for protection, and at the very least, suicide would have been possible.
Su Er fell silent for a moment, then made a grim judgment. “Whatever’s killing them has the ability to bewitch the mind.”
Implanting eggs through intercourse, leading to death—this was a method of killing he’d never encountered before.
“Perhaps killing isn’t the purpose,” Ji Heng said. “The egg-laying is.”
Su Er froze.
That night’s sleep was uneasy.
In his nap, he dreamt of being chased by vengeful ghosts; at night, he dreamt of being crushed by insects. When he awoke the next day, he felt drained. Instinctively, he checked his tablet first. A minute ago, Princess Camellia had sent a terse message: …Get back here.
He replied in the voice of a victim: [Come rescue us.]
At seven, the doorbell rang. Not long after, they were back in yesterday’s car.
Li Shuo’s eyes were bloodshot—clearly he’d been up late working.
So exhausting… Su Er thought to himself that once he graduated, the first kind of job to rule out was government service.
To prevent being misled, Li Shuo asked them directly, “How much do you know?”
Ji Heng repeated the conclusions they’d drawn last night, and naturally steered the topic to Lu Lanxin. “She’s likely one of the very few who succeeded in being impregnated.”
Li Shuo’s gaze flickered.
Seated on the right, Su Er caught the change in expression and smiled faintly. That little detail was proof that their conclusion was correct.
“When invasive species arrive, their first act is reproduction.” After a pause, Li Shuo spoke in a low voice. “It’s instinct. Investigations into these invaders have been going on for years. Tianjia Temple has been a key site under observation recently.”
“Why not shut down the temple earlier?” Ji Heng asked.
Li Shuo sounded helpless. “The moment traces appear, of course we have to observe first.”
Without observation, there’d be no samples to collect, and no way to research countermeasures.
Su Er, who had been quiet, suddenly asked, “So you just let the monsters lay eggs?”
“Of course not,” Li Shuo replied. “In fact, these things can’t use the human body as a breeding ground. That’s why nothing happened for so long. Until recently—when researchers discovered through the eggs that they were evolving, with a chance to parasitize human brains. To be safe, we immediately launched screenings. In the end, our focus narrowed to Zhao Bo, a new recruit.”
Catching sight of a convenience store, Li Shuo remembered they had pulled the two out in a rush and likely hadn’t eaten breakfast. He parked by the curb and went in to buy food.
Su Er said, “So in the end, it’s still better to cooperate with the official department.”
The information was reliable and comprehensive, and sometimes even considerate.
By contrast, players extracting bits of information from ghosts at the cost of their lives was like working in some shady little workshop.
Thinking this, his expression grew grave. He posted in the group chat: [@Princess Camellia, sir, times have changed.]
With no warning, he was muted again.
Just as he was about to complain, a glimpse of movement outside caught his eye, and he swallowed the words back.
Li Shuo buckled his seatbelt and handed them water and bread.
“Unfortunately, we spooked him. Zhao Bo slipped away.” He picked up where he’d left off. “The higher-ups think other forces are observing in secret. If we isolate Lu Lanxin, it’ll draw too much attention. And as for the invader’s ability to disguise itself—that’s the most recent discovery, and it cannot be leaked.”
“The greatest hermits hide in the city.” Ji Heng said lightly. “So the plan was to pretend nothing happened and wait until the child is born before making a move?”
Li Shuo nodded. “The premature birth disrupted the deployment.” At that, a flash of ferocity crossed his eyes. “But your statement is enough to prove it wasn’t an accident.”
The mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind.
Piecing everything together again, Su Er couldn’t help shaking his head—who would have thought these people were the ones being played?
“The force that took the child has already been identified. When the time comes, there will be a confrontation, and we’ll need your help.” Li Shuo deliberately skipped over key information, only saying, “There will also be experts on our side.”
Ji Heng nodded calmly and suggested a trip to Lu Lanxin’s residence. “If there are experts, that’s good. Bring a few with us. There’s something hidden there.”
Right in front of them, Li Shuo called and sent men to check the rental flat’s vicinity, to prevent ambushes.
Ji Heng didn’t say much more—laying out suspicions openly was actually better for both sides.
Watching from the side, Su Er’s eyelids twitched. The rental flat was one of the three locations the Host had designated—there were sure to be plenty of ghosts there. He wondered silently if this counted as a real-life version of “uniting all forces that can be united.”
Ji Heng suddenly turned his face and mouthed to him: Having an organization at your back makes things easier.
The Ming Jiayuan complex was an old, run-down neighborhood with few residents remaining. After the ghost rumors and the child-trafficking incident, people were living in fear, and Li Shuo had conveniently arranged for the nearby residents to be temporarily relocated.
A car was parked outside the building entrance, and people were moving equipment inside.
Intrigued, Su Er hurried over for a look.
“Ghost detector?”
Li Shuo shook his head. “This is an age of atheism—we call it a form of distorted magnetic field.”
The man in charge of detection pressed the “locate” button, and the needle on the machine began to tremble, finally stopping near the fridge. He sprinkled some strange powder on the floor with practiced ease.
They held their breath, waiting for a few minutes. Suddenly, a strange substance appeared, flowing like transparent slime.
The creature struggled within the powder-drawn circle, unable to escape.
When the time was right, the man opened a square box and sealed the thing inside.
Just then, the needle shuddered violently. He frowned. “There’s another one—it got away.”
“It’s fine. Thank you for your work,” said Li Shuo.
Once the personnel and equipment were withdrawn, Ji Heng began inspecting the rental flat, his sharp eyes missing no detail in the tiny space.
Su Er guessed Li Shuo had deliberately let them see the ghost capture as a form of intimidation—a reminder not to think too highly of themselves just because they had some skill. After all, organizations feared nothing more than members who disobeyed orders and thought too much for themselves.
Feigning nonchalance, he strolled to Ji Heng’s side and asked quietly, “Where do you think that escaped ghost went?”
“To report.”
“......”a
Tianjia Temple.
After a night on the run, exhaustion hit twice as hard at dawn.
Jia Kanhua leaned against a tree, waiting for the paralysis in his body to fade. The white fluff in the air gradually thinned, and he forced himself to his feet to look for food.
Having survived by sheer luck, even a packet of instant noodles seemed like a feast.
Princess Camellia yawned as he walked among the players. “So noisy all night, ruined my beauty sleep.”
He held up a mirror with mock fussiness. “I’ve even got wrinkles.”
On the side, Zhu Yu gave a bitter smile. The game truly was brutal. Liu Lang’s corpse still hung pitifully from a tree, and yet the Host only cared about his beauty rest.
But the bitterness in his eyes had barely faded when his hand holding chopsticks froze. He suddenly pulled out an item, staring warily at the doorway.
Although Xu Yangyang wasn’t much of a fighter, his spiritual sensitivity was high. He sensed the filth even faster than he and quickly dodged to a safe distance.
Princess Camellia lowered her mirror, narrowed eyes flashing with subtle danger. “Skipping work?”
The filth transformed into a water ghost and howled, “They were caught! Our teammates were taken by the authorities!”
“......”a
Princess Camellia’s expression didn’t change. “Details.”
The water ghost spilled everything about Su Er and Ji Heng joining with the military to sweep the rental flat, and finally, with desperate hope, asked: “You’ll go save them, won’t you?”
How innocent the captured ghosts were!
The words sounded all too familiar—Princess Camellia had just heard something similar yesterday.
Xu Yangyang, standing close, saw the storm in the Host’s eyes and realized he really had gained an extra wrinkle at the corner.
He quietly carried his instant noodles to a corner, thinking hard about what those two troublemakers were up to—and whether there was any way to get information from them.
Elsewhere in the city, Su Er had no idea someone was mentally @-ing him nonstop. He was focused on joining the search.
Li Shuo stood to the side and asked, “What exactly are you looking for?”
He had other plans in mind and clearly didn’t want to waste too much time here.
Ji Heng picked up the photo frame on the table. “A new life is about to arrive, yet there are hardly any baby supplies in this home.”
Li Shuo’s expression froze for a moment, then turned deadly serious. His eagle-like eyes swept the room—not only was there no stroller, but even basic items like diapers were missing.
“Why did you initially lock onto Zhao Bo as the suspect?”
Li Shuo: “We discovered some traces.”
As for the specific detection methods, he didn’t elaborate.
Ji Heng suddenly smiled. “At first, all your attention was on Zhao Bo. Now, it’s entirely on the missing child. Interesting.”
Li Shuo understood the implication—throughout this process, the only person never considered a suspect, but rather treated as a victim, was Lu Lanxin.
“Lu Lanxin’s suspicion… who?” At the sound, his ears twitched, and he turned his head—there at the entrance stood a woman, face pale as paper, the items in her hands slipping to the ground.
Su Er looked over and gave a light “hah.” “Discharged?”
Lu Lanxin picked up the things from the floor. “The hospital fees were too expensive.” Her fingers clenched tightly around the edge of the plastic bag. Clearly, she had overheard their conversation. “I didn’t buy baby supplies because I didn’t have enough money.”
Repression pushed to the extreme, she slowly stood up, her face bloodless. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. From the sound of it, you’re suggesting that Zhao Bo’s disappearance, and the child’s, are connected to me.”
Li Shuo had indeed harbored such doubts, but the tears shimmering in her eyes, her trembling lips—he didn’t press further.
Ji Heng, however, remained calm. “In truth, you’ve long realized exposure was possible. Fortunately, the other side only figured out that you’re evolving. The specific target is still under investigation.”
Lu Lanxin looked confused and angry, as if she couldn’t make sense of his words.
“First using your boyfriend to attract attention, then using the child as bait to draw countless factions into fighting over research. That way, less attention fell on you.”
That line was the last straw.
“Using your child as a bargaining chip, deciding on his purpose before he’s even born, letting people of unknown background take him away…” Lu Lanxin exploded, her voice hoarse as she roared, “Tell me—would any mother in this world do such a thing?!”
Her heart-rending question made even someone as iron-hearted as Li Shuo’s chest tighten.
In the silence, Ji Heng glanced at Su Er, then answered her. “Yes.”
“......”
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