If Su Er had known about Ji Heng’s secret plan to raise cuckoos, then what he’d be serving at the table now wouldn’t be food, but medicine… the kind Pan Jinlian gave Wu Dalang.
Four dishes and one soup—he had cooked all the specialties he was good at.
“Try it.”
Su Er picked up a rib for him. “How is it?”
Ji Heng took a bite. The sweet-and-sour flavor was genuinely delicious.
Su Er loved plain white rice. After swallowing, he said, “Always eating takeout isn’t good. I’m still in my growing years, so I learned a few dishes.”
Ji Heng couldn’t help but chuckle. “You really know how to take care of your health.”
Zhu Yun had nearly throttled Su Er across dimensions before. The painful lessons of the past were still vivid, so he had no intention of moving out of Ji Heng’s place for the time being. That night, as usual, the two lay on the same bed. The moment their heads hit the pillows, all the fatigue from the instance days came crashing down, and they quickly sank into deep sleep.
Ji Heng dreamed of Su Er—dreamed of him standing beneath the library’s clock tower, his hair tousled by the wind, the smile on his face mocking yet resolute. Even after cutting off others’ escape routes, he could still feign warmth and courtesy.
His heart rate spiked so suddenly it woke him at once. After taking a few deep breaths, he turned slightly, his dark eyes lingering on the sleeping face beside him, stirring faint ripples in his chest.
“Full marks… top scorer… interview…”
Su Er was fast asleep, his obsession with the college entrance exam far outweighing his survival in the escape game. Even his dreams brimmed with visions of a bright future.
Ji Heng’s brow twitched. So this was what it meant to share a bed but dream different dreams.
In the days that followed, Su Er threw himself almost entirely into practice papers. It was, in a way, a form of self-protection. Most people, after learning the truth, would inevitably dwell on whether this was all an illusory world. Given time, they would lose their sense of self, and mental collapse would be only a matter of years.
But as long as a person has a dream, they won’t lose the will to live.
While he was in the middle of strong self-hypnosis, a blinding light abruptly flared, forcibly dragging him into the transfer station. Before he could even regain his footing, a mysterious force shoved him through a water curtain, automatically throwing him into an instance.
He stumbled, nearly face-planting. Thinking he was being ambushed, Su Er instantly prepared to unleash his Charm, but just then his vision cleared, and he looked down—at a corpse sprawled across the floor.
Scanning the surroundings, he first spotted Ji Heng, then swept his gaze to the man seated at the bar.
The man sat calmly amid a heap of corpses—not a native. And since he wore no badge, he could only be either a host or a fierce ghost.
Without sparing Su Er a glance, the man tapped the bar. The two cocktails sitting there rippled with concentric waves. “Drink.”
Su Er glanced at Ji Heng. Seeing him down his glass without hesitation, he too raised it and drank.
The burn lingered in his throat, his body growing lighter by the second. Bewildered, Su Er lowered his head—only to see his body lying on the ground while his soul floated in midair. Was this… an out-of-body experience?
In just a few blinks, the scenery around them shifted, the sides lined with glowing fireflies.
“Sending you directly might cause separation of flesh and spirit,” the man said evenly. “It has to be done in two stages.”
Su Er was surprised to find Ji Heng handling it with such composure. Feeling his shock, Ji Heng spoke slowly: “We’re meat on the chopping block anyway.”
Su Er thought it over. “True.”
No matter how strong, players were always at a disadvantage in the game, forced to risk their lives completing missions.
With that thought, he too calmed down, letting the man continue.
The mist thickened. A player in a hoodie pulled up his hood against the cold wind.
“Why hasn’t it started yet?”
At most, half an hour remained before night fully descended. Once darkness took over, whatever foul things were lurking might well come pouring out.
Suddenly, a figure emerged from the fog, tossed out two glowing spheres, then vanished.
The hooded player froze, instinctively stepping forward to study them. But the instant he got close, a powerful force knocked him back several steps. Not long after, the figure appeared again, dragging two unconscious husks, and slammed the glowing spheres into their shells.
Two or three minutes later, Su Er twisted his stiff neck and, through the mist, spotted four silhouettes. He greeted them: “Hello, everyone.”
At the same time, he kept an eye out for Ji Heng and the mysterious man.
Ji Heng was still there, but the man who brought them had disappeared without a trace.
“Your way of showing up… really is something.” The hooded player introduced himself: “I’m Chen Buqi.”
Su Er noticed a thin layer of frost on Chen Buqi’s shoulders—it was clear he had been waiting here for quite some time. That meant he and Ji Heng had been added to the instance later.
“Some people just love showing off, wasting everyone’s time.” The speaker was a young man barely in his twenties, with striking features.
Su Er glanced at his badge: Zhou Que.
For some reason, the man seemed to harbor a faint hostility toward him.
Su Er didn’t immediately fire back. Zhou Que wasn’t entirely wrong—what mattered now was finding a relatively safe shelter before nightfall.
They stood at the mountain’s base, with no sign of human habitation. Off to the side was a tattered ticket booth, its tables and chairs scattered haphazardly.
Everything screamed of an abandoned tourist site.
A female player named Lin Lele frowned. “I’ve never heard of a mountain range being turned into a discarded scenic spot.”
Some places closed seasonally due to landslides or natural hazards. But the ticket booth made it clear this mountain had been permanently erased from the tourist map. More than that, not a single household lived at its foot.
A strange sound carried through the air. Everyone turned in unison—the cable cars had started moving on their own.
Ji Heng: “Let’s go check it out.”
Regardless of the others, he pulled Su Er along.
“We’re going too.” A man who hadn’t spoken until now finally broke his silence—Ye Xiaocen.
Zhou Que: “Captain, we don’t have to take this risk.”
Ye Xiaocen: “Going up the mountain is inevitable sooner or later.”
In instances, many dangers couldn’t be avoided simply by keeping a low profile.
Only then did Zhou Que move to follow.
Lin Lele exchanged a glance with Chen Buqi. “Let’s go too.”
Chen Buqi nodded.
They had to walk a stretch of mountain path to reach the cable cars. Stepping on cracked stone steps, Su Er said as they climbed, “This instance might end up being an unpleasant journey.”
He had encountered unfriendly players before, but ones who displayed such open hostility were few and far between.
“I strongly suspect the game deliberately matched me with someone like that.”
Ji Heng smiled. “Not impossible. He’s always standing behind Ye Xiaocen. Ye Xiaocen manages an organization, pretty powerful.”
“No wonder…” Su Er understood. “With someone backing him up, Zhou Que dares target me openly, without worrying about retaliation.”
Besides, players couldn’t kill each other anyway—so taunts were just taunts.
Ji Heng nodded.
Su Er thought for a moment, then strode ahead, turned around, and used Ji Heng as a shield while raising his brows at Zhou Que and giving him a mocking smile.
Who in this game didn’t have someone backing them?
Zhou Que’s gaze turned cold. “Bast—”
“How long is a person’s tongue?” Ji Heng suddenly cut him off with a completely unrelated question.
Zhou Que frowned.
Ji Heng carried on as if to himself. “Shame I don’t really know. And for things I don’t know…”
He deliberately drew out his tone.
Su Er glanced at Zhou Que and picked up the thread. “Practice makes knowledge. Just cut someone’s off and measure it, then you’ll know.”
Ji Heng inclined his head slightly. “Well said.”
After their back-and-forth, the two refocused on walking.
Zhou Que clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles whitened, his face twisted with resentment and unwillingness.
Though Ye Xiaocen was also displeased at Ji Heng’s verbal threats—clearly showing no respect for him—he still said, “Cool it. The task matters most.”
Through gritted teeth, Zhou Que said, “If it weren’t for Su Er, I’d already have gotten a high-level item.”
Last time, during a welfare-instance, he had taken a mission to help an old lady sew dolls. To survive, he even ripped a patch of skin from his own back. Unfortunately for him, one of the hosts helped Su Er cross-instances to trade at the same time. When the old lady saw the hand-skin Su Er provided, she marveled at its usual pale smoothness, and suddenly looked down on Zhou Que’s offering. Though she still gave him a doll as promised, it was far inferior to the one she gave Su Er.
Zhou Que had seen with his own eyes how she sewed an extra eye onto Su Er’s doll.
Why?
He had sacrificed an entire patch of back skin. Even if he couldn’t get a high-level item, it should at least have been mid-tier. Afterwards, he investigated—normally, the old woman gave an item called Crying Child, said to stir pity in ghosts.
But what he got was Patched Doll, barely a tenth as effective, a low-to-mid-tier item.
Not long after, Su Er became famous in the game for racking up achievement points. Little by little, Zhou Que’s jealousy turned into full-blown hatred.
Su Er knew nothing of this. Even if he had, he’d probably have just said: Don’t mess with me—scammers never end well.
Ahead, the cable cars ran alone, endlessly up and down the mountain—half white, half black.
The black ones were rare; this was Su Er’s first time seeing one. In the mist, the cabins exuded an ominous aura.
Ji Heng: “Which color do you like?”
Su Er: “Black.”
Just then a black car passed by. Ji Heng said, “Get on.”
The long-unused cable car crept along slowly. Tonight the wind was fierce, the cables screeching now and then, unnerving everyone. Outside the window, the forest was pitch-black, the abyss below yawning like it was waiting to swallow them whole.
After a while, Su Er asked, “The black cable car—doesn’t it mean bad luck?”
“Not a good choice.”
“Then why ride it?” Su Er exclaimed.
Ji Heng’s eyes glinted. “A weathervane.”
Since they chose black, chances were high that others would follow suit.
Su Er blinked, then asked instead, “Anyone among these players offend you before?”
“Not in my memory.” Ji Heng turned his face to the dim stars appearing in the sky. “But for some reason, I feel an uncontrollable urge to kill.”
Since earlier, he had been forcing down that surging hostility.
When he turned back to Su Er, though, his gaze softened. “Sit beside me. Just in case.”
Emotion was emotion—different from rashness. Since he had chosen black, he had a way out.
Night fell in an instant in the mountains. Soon after, the cawing of crows echoed through the dark woods. Su Er spotted a few black shapes closing in overhead—fierce eagles.
They seemed to take the cable cars as enemies, savagely tearing at the cables. One swooped to Su Er’s window, beating its wings hard. Its wingspan was far greater than a normal eagle’s, raw power radiating from it, and cracks soon spread across the glass.
Su Er’s expression changed. This glass wasn’t the reinforced type it should have been—only ordinary double-pane glass.
The car shook violently, tossing his body back and forth in the cramped space, several times nearly flinging him against the cracking window for a close encounter with the savage bird.
Ji Heng steadied him with a hand. Su Er quickly pulled out Crying Child for protection, scanning the outside under the faint glow.
“Step back a little,” Ji Heng murmured.
Seeing the eagle’s claws and the dagger in Ji Heng’s hand, Su Er guessed his plan and leaned back cooperatively.
Ji Heng lunged forward, stabbing hard at the glass. With the impact from inside and out, the window shattered.
Wind and eagle burst in all at once. Ji Heng didn’t attack further, only raised his dagger defensively.
Amazingly, the eagle abandoned its ferocity, landing atop the blade. Its beak gaped, its weight bending the dagger slightly.
Su Er carefully leaned closer, untied a bamboo tube from the eagle’s claw, and shook out two crumpled sheets of paper. Three blood-red characters stood out glaringly: Invitation Letter.
The moment the paper appeared, the cable car suddenly sped up. Within seconds it reached the platform. Taking the chance, Su Er leapt out to safety. Only now did he notice a countdown on the invitation’s corner.
40, 39, 38… ticking down fast.
With the danger eased, Su Er quipped, “Hogwarts’ way of delivering mail?”
Except these eagles were far more vicious than owls—and made for dangerous distractions.
Ji Heng: “The key to this round lies in the eagles.”
In the air, players had no advantage. The only breakthrough could come from these sudden predators. But in the chaos, players would panic and mistake them for enemies.
Su Er stared at the crumpled page. “When the countdown hits zero, what if no one has found the invitation?”
Ji Heng looked up at the swaying cable line, where more eagles tore at it with their talons. His tone was cold. “Death.”
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