The worst-case scenario was that, three hundred years ago, this planet had been the home of the insects, and before migrating here, humans had carried out a great purge. However, the vitality of the insects was beyond imagination—so long as even a single egg was left in some crevice, new life could be bred.
Su Er: “Given that humans later seized the upper hand, surely the mission target isn’t asking us to wipe out all of humanity?”
Ji Heng glanced sideways at him, slowly speaking a certain subject Su Er was best at: “Reading comprehension.”
Su Er began to parse the words carefully. The mission specifically emphasized “the earliest” as an adjective—in other words, what needed to be destroyed was just a single individual. Thinking of this, he couldn’t help casting a sidelong glance: “That would mean this is your dead-end scenario.”
Ji Heng suddenly became curious about what kind of figure he was in Su Er’s eyes… An old monster who had lived for hundreds of years?
A dazed look flashed through Su Er’s eyes: “Three hundred years ago, you led humanity to break into an unknown planet. Time has flown, the years slipped away, and you’ve grown weary…”
Before an even more far-fetched picture could be spun out, Ji Heng cut him off helplessly: “Calm down.”
Su Er arched a brow: “We’re supposed to make bold assumptions.”
“A magnificent story,” Ji Heng chuckled, “but unlikely. A mission issued by the game wouldn’t explicitly designate a specific player as the death target.”
Su Er’s eyes rolled, but for once he didn’t retort. He drained the last half-bottle of beer in one go, his mind playing out one melodramatic plot after another—until he even felt sorrow at the stories he himself had imagined.
Ji Heng took the empty bottle from his hand, went back inside, and tossed it into the trash. In a voice full of weight, he said, “And that is precisely why I didn’t want to tell you at the start.”
Su Er agreed. He tried to restrain himself, but that didn’t stop his mind from automatically spinning stories.
To help distract him, Ji Heng deliberately shifted the topic: “Later, focus on finding materials from over three hundred years ago.”
Su Er nodded.
But as they stepped back into the reading room, he suddenly halted. In that short time, only one person remained inside.
Xu Yangyang, seeing him glance around, explained: “Jia Kanhua went to the restroom. Zhu Yu…” He paused, then asked, “Don’t you think she’s a little spooky?”
Su Er blinked. Honestly, his impression was that Zhu Yu was the most rational person among this group of players—second only to Ji Heng.
“Last night when I went to examine Liu Lang’s body, she was there too,” Xu Yangyangrecalled. “In her eyes, besides the sorrow of mourning a fellow player, I also caught a faint trace of excitement—hard to notice, but it was there.”
Su Er blinked again: “You’re sure?”
Through the darkness, discerning the layers of emotion in someone’s eyes was high-difficulty work.
Xu Yangyang waved his hand: “Believe me or not, but I’ve always had a knack for reading people’s eyes.”
“......”a
Calling Zhu Yu spooky—honestly that word seemed more fitting for Xu Yangyang himself. Still, Su Er remained on guard.
Starting from the first row of shelves, he took down almost every book to flip through.
Xu Yangyang: “Looking for that missing stretch of history?”
Su Er nodded.
Pointing to the dozen or so volumes stacked by his side, Xu Yangyang spread his hands: “I’ve pretty much gone through them. They all just pad out the word count with accounts of disease.”
Stories of struggle and resistance read as empty and hollow—just as Ji Heng had said, they carried the stench of forgery. As he spoke, Xu Yangyang rubbed his temples. “For nearly half a century, what else could people have been doing besides fighting viruses?”
Su Er debated whether to voice his own thoughts. Only by standing in Ji Heng’s position could one understand how difficult it was. A wild guess, if wrong, would lead everyone astray.
“Hesitant, helpless, uncertain…” Xu Yangyang stared straight into his eyes. “You’ve made a major discovery, and you’re hesitating whether to tell us—because you’re not sure if it’s true.”
Even Ji Heng gave him a longer look at that.
Su Er was stunned. Could he really read emotions that well?
Xu Yangyang explained: “It’s like a sixth sense. Sometimes, in a flash, inspiration comes.”
Zhu Yun was a natural-born prophet, proof that players in this instance could have innate special abilities. Su Er came closer and studied Xu Yangyang again with fresh eyes. After a long moment of thought, he sat down across from him. Skipping over the reasoning, he went straight to the conclusion: “The scope of ‘invaders’ is broad. Don’t be so quick to rule out humans.”
Xu Yangyang’s mouth opened. After a long, stunned silence, a curse slipped out: “Damn this game’s bastard father!”
“......”a
Before Su Er could even commend him for his courage, Xu Yangyang slammed a hand over his own mouth, eyes shut, sincerely apologizing to the game. He silently repeated “I was wrong” thirty times before speaking again: “Those people from three hundred years ago are long dead.”
The average lifespan in this world was around eighty; those blessed with longevity might reach one hundred thirty at best.
“Besides, we mostly move in groups, with little contact with native inhabitants. There’s no way the so-called invaders are the curator or the abbot.”
“…The most absurd guess is that the person is among the players themselves. But since players are forbidden from killing each other, the earliest invader can’t possibly be human.”
Su Er rubbed his nose. Sounded perfectly reasonable.
Strange noises came from the doorway.
Turning, they saw Jia Kanhua standing there, the tissue packet in his hand crinkling loudly under his grip. He let out a slow breath: “Scared the hell out of me—suddenly making such a terrifying assumption.”
Su Er rose to his feet, though inwardly he felt little relief.
False leads are never aimless. Habitual thinking points most directly to judging the identity of the invader. Pacing over to Ji Heng’s side, Su Er murmured, “I still lean toward humans being the invaders.”
On the other side, although Xu Yangyang had methodically argued against this conclusion, his eyes flickered a little.
After a moment, a few of them exchanged glances. Finally, Su Er threw his head back and sighed: “Where’s the most basic trust between people?”
Clearly, from the logical chain, insects fit the role of invader more naturally—but they couldn’t reach a final verdict.
Jia Kanhua pressed his lips together: “This… really does seem like something humans could do.”
Invasion, war… searching for new survival points—completely normal. He could at least be confident about that.
Seeing that they might get stuck on this topic for a long time, Su Er spoke with unprecedented seriousness: “By tomorrow morning, we must confirm the target.”
This mission could be divided into three phases: target confirmation, target search, and target destruction. Two days had already passed, and they were still stuck in the first phase.
After thinking for a moment, he asked: “Why not use a hypothetical approach?”
All eyes converged on him. Su Er calmly said, “Let’s first assume humans are the invaders…”
Xu Yangyang frowned: “Why not the insects?”
The latter would be easier to verify.
Su Er: “Are you just being difficult?”
The words left his mouth, and he immediately felt a sense of clarity.
Xu Yangyang’s mood became subtle and complicated. For some reason, hearing those words from Su Er alone felt like an insult.
Just as he was about to argue, Ji Heng’s voice interjected: “Go on.”
Su Er nodded and continued.
Xu Yangyang patted his chest: tight! Short of breath!
“Exploring an alien planet isn’t secret. If it were discovered, calling it a milestone wouldn’t be an exaggeration. Why hide it?”
Xu Yangyang shook his head, unable to come up with an answer. Jia Kanhua was similarly stumped and instinctively looked to Ji Heng.
At this critical moment, Ji Heng was still absorbed in reading the historical books.
Xu Yangyang cleared his throat: “Any insights?”
Ji Heng: “The insects.”
“Meaning?”
Ji Heng lifted his head: “Thinking they’d exterminated the insects completely, humans were happy after relocating—only to find hidden dangers. But they couldn’t make it public.”
Once revealed, it would have thrown people into panic and society into turmoil.
“…During the concealment, some kind of tragedy must have occurred,” he squinted. “Perhaps even violating humanitarian principles.”
Around them, there was silence so heavy it could be heard like a pin drop.
After a while, Xu Yangyang, caught up in curiosity, asked: “Why stop suddenly?”
Ji Heng: “Just speculation. Don’t take it as truth.”
“…” Xu Yangyang swallowed. “The clues are all tangled—aren’t you worried?”
Ji Heng, calm, continued reading: “Afterwards, playing a game with ghosts helps clarify things.”
Su Er nodded in agreement: “Standard instance procedure—you gain information through intense struggle with the ghosts.”
“......”a
Less than half an hour later, a sudden gale blew outside. Dust and dirt swept into the reading room, making everyone sneeze.
Reluctantly, they shut the nearest windows, but soon it felt wet and stifling.
Previously, open windows offered some psychological comfort—pretending the white tufts could be blown away. Now, it was a completely sealed space.
After the wind came torrential rain, the sky gray, as if signaling nightfall had arrived early.
Su Er checked his watch: it was only five in the afternoon.
Xu Yangyang muttered, “Heaven be with you. Time to ‘play with ghosts,’ I guess.”
“......”a
Getting no response, Xu Yangyang glanced over and saw Su Er leaning in, pretending to read with Ji Heng, clearly distracted.
Earlier, Su Er had just followed Ji Heng’s words for fun. Now, the sudden darkening of the sky felt like a bad omen.
About to make a teasing comment, Xu Yangyang froze: “Did you see a shadow?”
In an instance, joking like this could get you hit. No one doubted the words’ sincerity; everyone instantly clustered together.
“The Yin energy is intensifying,” Ji Heng said, scanning the surroundings before suddenly leaving the group and heading to the door.
Xu Yangyang exclaimed, and Jia Kanhua shivered: “Don’t startle like that!”
“Books,” Xu Yangyang reminded them.
White tufts began spilling from both ends of the books. The ones in the distance were hard to observe, but the ones in their hands were clearly visible. Insect eggs slowly seeped from the pages. Xu Yangyang and Jia Kanhua immediately threw their books aside, while Su Er, before discarding his, rubbed the pages—slightly uneven from the texture.
“I see.”
The insect eggs were hidden inside the paper, difficult to detect.
After thinking about how long they had been reading, everyone felt a shiver run down their spines. Xu Yangyang’s eye twitched: “I told you already—these things are everywhere.”
Masks didn’t help, and even ordinary paper could be penetrated.
Su Er glanced at his clothes and said, “Fibers.”
He bent down and rubbed the hem of his clothes vigorously. White powder floated into the air, proving in practice that they were wrapped up in the insects.
It would be one thing not to know—but now, seeing this scene, they instantly felt itchy all over. Xu Yangyang rubbed his clothes incessantly, his expression grim, and soon gave up. The insects couldn’t be avoided—it was just a futile effort.
The others patted their clothes to some extent, but only Ji Heng stood by the railing, staring at the first-floor hall.
Su Er: “What are you looking at?”
“At least three powerful ghosts have entered.”
He deliberately emphasized “powerful ghosts,” proving their strength was considerable.
Jia Kanhua didn’t understand why he waited until now to mention it: “With a heads-up, we could at least team up and take one down.”
Ji Heng asked calmly: “If we kill it, where do we find the clues?”
Then he and Su Er headed down to the first floor.
Jia Kanhua frowned: “In his eyes, the clues matter more than human lives.”
Xu Yangyang nodded, gripping the railing: “If I had a choice, I’d want you all dead.”
“......”a
Xu Yangyang: “This way, the instance difficulty automatically drops, survival odds increase.”
“......”a
Su Er vaguely picked up some of their conversation but didn’t dwell on it: “Have the insects gotten out of hand?”
Countless flying insects and powerful ghosts attacking together—who could survive?
“Not normal,” Ji Heng stopped walking. “The ghosts appear, and the insects’ main role is to paralyze the players, slowing their reaction time.”
Now, the floating white tufts in the air far exceeded the number at Tianjia Temple, showing signs of shifting from support to direct lethal strikes.
Su Er stared at the rolling mass of insect eggs: “Is it just me, or…”
Ji Heng gave a definite answer: “Be confident—it’s coming for you.”
“......”a
Having suffered before, the white tufts hadn’t charged recklessly; they seemed to be gathering strength. Su Er stepped back a few paces: “Why is everything fixated on me?”
He already knew the answer in his heart—it was probably for the little clay figure.
Ji Heng: “At night, we’ll tangle with the ghosts. First, clear some of the insect eggs.”
Su Er agreed. Before they could act, the white mass ahead suddenly expanded, ballooning like an inflating balloon and accelerating.
Ji Heng’s reflexes were sharp. He pulled Su Er behind a stone pillar: “Cover your ears.”
Actions faster than words—before he could ask, Su Er had already clamped his hands over his ears.
‘Bang!’ A deafening explosion left their heads spinning. When the ringing faded slightly, Su Er looked up. A minute ago, the arrogant insects had been blown apart, their powder scattering everywhere. If it hit an open flame, it could trigger another dust explosion.
Su Er glanced sideways, silently conveying: ‘You’re awesome.’
“Not me.”
Su Er assumed he was being humble: “Could it be the ghosts?”
Ji Heng nodded: “I saw it—the ghosts acted first.”
“......”a
The small explosion benefited Su Er the most. Knowing that the mysterious eye inside him consumed luck, he didn’t worry about redirecting luck—he immediately tried to determine the cause from other angles.
“There must be a cause for every effect.”
The little clay figure shivered when pulled out. As the primary target of the eggs, it quietly cried, showing its value, afraid of being discarded.
“The cause was the peach blossom petal,” Su Er recalled. “The petal’s value was high, disproportionately so compared to the danger I faced.”
Although he nearly lost his life, the protective item kept him safe—the process was intense but ultimately harmless.
The more he thought about it, the more something felt off: “It showed up impatiently during the day, unlike typical ghost behavior. The pink-clad female ghost was the fuse—she acted first, then the others rushed in.”
Ji Heng: “What do you plan to do?”
Su Er produced a milky-white stone: “First, contact Gou Baopu to deliver the agreed-upon item.”
He bit his finger, squeezed out a drop of blood, and infused it into the stone. It still looked lifeless. Moments later, the smiling merchant appeared, pushing the basket forward: “Please accept it.”
Su Er was stunned: “Can the host freely enter other players’ instances?”
The smiling merchant smiled: “Merchants are an exception.”
Most items were trivial; Su Er had little expectation and only picked three: “Return the rest for a replacement message.”
The merchant played with a gem-studded button: “Tell me about it.”
Su Er recounted his dungeon experience: “The female ghost seemed instigated to act. The peach blossom petal is valuable, but it made me the insects’ guaranteed target. The powerful ghosts recently fought the eggs—probably insured, so they haven’t caused collateral yet…”
The merchant gently interrupted: “What are you implying?”
“Did the Princess Camellia buy insurance?”
The merchant countered: “What do you think?”
Su Er expressionless: “I guess not only did she, but she also struck a private deal with Gou Baopu. He reduces ghost incidents and takes part in the commission.”
The little clay figure wasn’t killed because it accidentally fused with the petal. As long as it existed, he remained the insects’ target. The powerful ghosts, needing compensation, had to keep him alive until he acted, inevitably clashing with swarms of eggs and wasting energy.
Over time, it created a vicious cycle.
The smiling merchant laughed: “Players exploit rule loopholes; the host can similarly skirt the rules, creating a butterfly effect.”
He paused, then asked: “Isn’t it fascinating?”
Su Er chuckled softly.
…That scheming princess really secretly bought insurance behind everyone’s back!
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