Ordinary people would have been enraged upon hearing this.
Feng Peng, entirely absorbed in science, was unexpectedly reasonable. After analyzing how love hormones are produced and how long they last, he decisively concluded that such feelings typically fade within a few years. For someone to remain loyal for decades before transferring affection elsewhere was simply a sign of a highly developed brain.
Ji Heng: “If we want to understand ancient history now, where should we start?”
Feng Peng repeatedly emphasized one truth: “You’ve missed the best opportunity.”
He was a genius, but also mad. Deep down, he approved of the Core Project—his previous efforts to turn the tide were only to compete for the position of the Core. Now, as a ghost, competing was meaningless.
Yet death could not extinguish curiosity. Feng Peng was eager to see what the world would look like after the plan was initiated, but that hope had recently vanished.
Without waiting for an answer, Ji Heng didn’t even glance at him, as if the old man had no value, and turned to leave.
“Wait!”
Ji Heng ignored him.
Feng Peng: “The little cottage at 320 Taicheng Street—you used to go there often.”
Ji Heng stopped and turned slightly: “What do you want?”
Feng Peng: “The truth… or rather, the reality.”
Being absorbed into the game after death, bound by rules and losing all freedom, he was desperate to understand how everything operated.
Ji Heng coldly said he didn’t know.
Feng Peng: “Say what you know.”
Ji Heng was honest and recounted all his experiences over the years and the inescapable situations he had faced.
Feng Peng pondered after hearing this, just about to speak, when he suddenly felt a strong palpitating sensation—a warning from the rules. Helplessly, he skipped the topic: “That cottage is strange. I went there once before I died.”
He didn’t elaborate on what was strange.
Ji Heng knew enough and moved on without lingering.
From behind came Feng Peng’s hoarse voice: “When survival is at stake, civilization and savagery aren’t entirely opposed. I hope you understand that.”
Everything they had done was simply to survive and establish a foothold in a new world.
Ji Heng understood, but found it repulsive. Take the brain transplant plan, for example: it required a young, healthy body, and the original owner of that body would inevitably be killed for their brain.
Tonight, the moon was full.
Su Er tilted his head back to admire it for a while, then heard footsteps and, without turning, said: “If I stare for two more minutes, I might transform into a werewolf.”
Xu Yangyang wasn’t joking. Ever since learning Ji Heng was a native of the instance, he’d developed a mild paranoia about being targeted by the game and was eager to exit the instance. “Any clues?” he asked anxiously.
Ji Heng recited the address Feng Peng had given.
Xu Yangyang instinctively tried to locate it, then remembered everyone’s tablets had been deliberately lost.
Su Er calmly circled behind the library, found the marked spot, and retrieved his backpack, sending the tablets back to everyone one by one.
Xu Yangyang received his tablet and muttered: “…You planned this well.”
“You flatter me,” Su Er replied casually.
The location wasn’t far from the library; by car, it would take at most twenty minutes.
Currently, no cars were parked nearby, only a row of shared bikes under a tree. Normally, one would rush, but Su Er stood by a bike, heads down, looking at his tablet.
Ji Heng glanced and saw several messages from Li Shuo asking where he was.
“Send them the place we’re going.”
Su Er, wary, hesitated, thinking about the possibility of Li Shuo being parasitized. The number of parasites had been increasing hourly since morning.
“What if it’s a parasite…”
Ji Heng: “Feng Peng said the place is strange. It’s dangerous for us, and the parasites won’t benefit either.”
Having an additional force for balance was actually advantageous.
Su Er followed instructions, activated voice navigation, and readjusted his backpack. He’d ridden barely two meters when he slowed down: “Feels like I forgot something.”
He turned back for a last glance at the library and fell into thought.
From the darkness, a palm-sized clay figure ran wildly toward him. Su Er, feeling guilty, rode back, scooped it up, and put it in his pocket: “Been waiting for you a long time.”
Having long witnessed the other party being a scum, it quietly clung to the pocket edge.
Xu Yangyang and the others were already far ahead. Su Er infused some yin energy to stabilize the clay figure and quickly caught up.
The empty streets, stirred by the night wind, carried a certain atmosphere. Without the irritating white fluff in the air, they might have appreciated the scenery seriously.
A dense patch of parasite eggs lay at a key intersection. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief—dealing with the eggs was easier than handling actual parasites.
Su Er noticed the insects somewhat avoided Zhu Yu, something Xu Yangyang also observed while riding alongside her.
Zhu Yu calmly said: “I can let the parasite eggs live inside the body for a while. They might mistake me for one of their own.”
With so much white fluff, resistance increased. Xu Yangyang pedaled harder, frowning: “What exactly are you planning?”
Who experiments on themselves like this?
Zhu Yu smiled mysteriously, still holding to her plan.
At that moment, Ji Heng’s cold voice came from behind: “She intends to bring the parasite eggs out and cultivate them in the real world, interfering with the game by destroying the players completely.”
A harsh scraping noise followed. Xu Yangyang nearly lost balance and had to dismount.
Zhu Yu furrowed her brows, likely not expecting to be so easily exposed. The seed of doubt was planted; denial was futile. Soon, a mocking curve formed at the corner of her lips: “A game with no players has no value.”
Xu Yangyang said coldly: “The game can recruit new players.”
Ji Heng’s existence suggested that the real world might be false.
“So what?” Zhu Yu’s smile widened: “I don’t believe it’s easy for a game to attract players.”
Making someone in an instance lose all memory of a native would not be easy.
Words unheeded, she left them behind, accelerating past the others while they were still entangled with parasites.
Xu Yangyang’s tone was icy: “She’s lived long enough. I haven’t.”
The game had lifted restrictions on killing each other, so they needed a chance to strike.
Su Er disapproved: “We fought side by side—don’t take it too far.”
Xu Yangyang snorted inwardly, cursing: a good heart isn’t scary; misplacing it is.
A soft sigh drifted into the night.
“Before leaving the instance, just chop off all limbs.”
“......”a
“Zhu Yu’s injuries are concentrated on her arms. The live parasite eggs are definitely stored there,” Su Er said after thinking carefully. “In the game, no matter how severe the injuries, as soon as you return to the transit station, they heal instantly.”
“......”a
Xu Yangyang and Jia Kanhua felt their worldview being completely overturned, and even the Princess Tea Flower, walking alone in the night, couldn’t hide her shock.
You might call him ruthless, yet he’s the only one advocating not to take lives.
But if you call him kind, what kind of kind person would come up with an idea like this?
Amid these swirling thoughts, the group gradually arrived at their destination.
“Very strange,”
Su Er said, glancing around and making a quick judgment.
Ji Heng nodded. “There’s only this one house here. It looks abandoned for years, and there’s no sign of demolition or occupation.”
In a city where every inch of land is precious, leaving a plot like this empty was inconceivable.
The lock on the main door was just for show—it wasn’t truly secured. Zhu Yu arrived first and pushed it gently; it opened with a soft click. She had prepared to step back, but inside, there wasn’t even a trace of the white fluff.
In a world nearly overtaken by parasites, the house exuded an unusual quiet and calm.
Turning to the players standing a few steps behind, Zhu Yu raised an eyebrow. “Shall we go in together?”
Everyone knew that the calmer it seemed, the stranger it actually was. She had no intention of acting as a guiding stone.
Su Er stepped forward. “I have high charm value, so I’ll go first. That way I can check if there’s a ghost. If there’s danger, please cover me.”
Su Er’s words were earnest, and Zhu Yu’s expression softened slightly. Although she had been outmaneuvered earlier, at the root, Su Er’s actions were meant to protect his companions, showing a rare sense of loyalty and principle. Now, despite his low physical power, he was still willing to take the lead—his character was genuinely admirable.
“Alright,” she said after a brief hesitation, her voice gentle as she warned, “Be careful.”
This scene did not escape the notice of those behind them, and Xu Yangyang’s expression was particularly telling. Seeing the trust and admiration in Zhu Yu’s eyes, he was speechless. “Too bad time can’t be turned back.”
Otherwise, Zhu Yu really should have seen the scene where he casually suggested chopping off limbs—he wondered if she could have still laughed.
He even suspected that Su Er’s actions were deliberately meant to gain Zhu Yu’s trust, to make his final move easier.
In the yard stood a towering ancient tree. Su Er lightly “scanned” it using his charm stat, feeling no trace of ghostly energy.
“How is it?” Zhu Yu asked.
Su Er shook his head. “I can only confirm that this tree is fine.”
He dared not recklessly scan everything around him—if anything went wrong, the ghostly energy could overwhelm him before he had a chance to react.
The room contained a large collection of books. Picking one up stirred a cloud of dust that could choke a person. At this time, Xu Yangyang and the others also entered, beginning to search. One by one, they pulled out over a dozen books—all dealing with advanced theoretical knowledge; not a single book on history was among them.
Su Er moved to Ji Heng’s side. “Do you remember this place?”
Ji Heng shook his head and casually pulled out a book. It turned out to be a self-help “chicken soup for the soul” type of book. After putting it back, he suddenly started paying attention to Xu Yangyang, and after a moment said, “You picked up that book earlier.”
Xu Yangyang froze, completely unable to recall it. Soon, however, he looked at Ji Heng in puzzlement. “You’ve been standing there for several minutes.”
There were only a few books, and judging from their titles, it shouldn’t have taken this long to check them.
The words had barely left his mouth when he froze for a moment, suddenly realizing that his memory was acting strangely—almost as if he had walked into a supernatural loop.
The most troubled expression belonged to Jia Kanhua. His sleeves were covered in mottled bloodstains, and when he rolled them up, a long gash ran along his arm. No matter how hard he racked his brain, he couldn’t remember when he had been injured; he only recalled having entered the room not long ago.
Ten minutes later, a familiar scene repeated itself.
Ji Heng once again pulled out one of the self-help books. He frowned, an unusual sensation pressing sharply in his mind.
Xu Yangyang, on the other side, was using a tool to heal his wound, completely unaware of where it had come from.
“Damn it!” Xu Yangyang finally couldn’t hold back and swore.
The unknown was the most terrifying. Bloodstains on the floor near the door covered the dust, indicating that someone had tried to escape earlier but had been seriously injured.
Everyone exchanged worried glances. Su Er spoke in a low voice, “I have a tool that can observe the true nature of things, but using it will bring me bad luck.”
He was referring to the eye inside him, categorizing it as a “tool” to avoid raising suspicion later.
Zhu Yu was the first to speak: “Go ahead and use it. If danger arises, we’ll all protect you.”
Su Er hesitated. “My luck is already bad… using it now—”
Zhu Yu smiled. “Luck has its ups and downs, but no one can be unlucky beyond redemption.”
She had a point.
Su Er made up his mind and took two steps toward the door, ready to use the tool to observe. As soon as he stepped forward, he couldn’t help but let out a sharp hiss.
Ji Heng asked, “What’s wrong?”
Su Er rolled up his pant leg, revealing a large bruise on his leg and a seriously swollen ankle. It was clear that he wasn’t the only one mysteriously injured—Xu Yangyang and Jia Kanhua weren’t the only victims. After a moment’s thought, he decided to use a healing tool; being hindered would make escaping even harder.
He casually found a place to sit down and then took out the tool. A voice sounded in his ear:
[Player Su Er has plopped down on the Ghost King’s beloved coffin lid.]
[The Ghost King is very angry and has decided to show him some “color.” The other players will get ten minutes of reading time.]
“…” Zhu Yu furrowed her brows. “Did you use a tool to observe?”
Su Er shook his head.
Zhu Yu’s expression was complicated. Could someone really be this unlucky without using it?
A natural non-lucky?
“Not necessarily,” Ji Heng suddenly said.
Their memories were constantly resetting in loops, and their bodies still bore the marks of past battles. Perhaps Su Er had used the mysterious eye but simply didn’t remember it.
As they spoke, gusts of cold wind swept through the room, soaking them in a chilling sweat.
Su Er whispered, “…What should I do?”
Ji Heng stared at the shaking floorboards, raising an eyebrow slightly. “First… move your butt away from the Ghost King’s doorstep.”
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