Every player who enters the game has a clear purpose. Some want to escape the twisted living environment of their original world, some long for a spotless past, and of course, there are also those who pursue fame and fortune… The reasons vary wildly.
Zhu Yun was one of the more unusual cases—she only wanted one simple thing: to live as a human being.
When the game chose her, the people in Tianji City were all being turned into snake-people through frenzied experiments. To put it bluntly, they were nothing more than walking corpses. So when a mysterious voice asked her whether she was willing to join the game and escape her current environment, Zhu Yun agreed without hesitation.
Compared to other players, she also had a natural advantage—the art of prophecy.
Even if her memory was erased, the fact that she was a snake-person could not be changed. And from time to time, fragments of unfamiliar futures would invade her mind—enough to drive a normal person to the brink of madness. Fortunately, as she grew older, Zhu Yun gradually learned to control her ability.
Her prophetic ability was divided into active and passive.
Active meant deliberately calculating someone’s future, but the burden on her body was enormous, risking even her eyes bursting. Passive meant someone’s future would flash into her mind on its own; this was relatively easier, leaving her only weak for a short time.
Zhu Yun once studied the conditions for triggering passive prophecy, but the occurrences were too few to draw conclusions. At best, she could only guess it was tied to bonds.
In other words, she was most likely to see fragments of people with whom she might form deep bonds in the future.
As she cleared more and more instances, her prophetic ability grew stronger—until one day, Zhu Yun saw her own death. It was in Tianji City. She was surrounded by countless snakes, and devoured alive until not even a scrap of bone remained.
She was a snake-person, and those attacking her were also snake-people. Combining this with clues from certain special instances, Zhu Yun deduced she was trapped in a dead-end instance. To change her destined fate, she racked her brain for ways to enter special instances, hoping to gather more useful information.
After careful planning, Zhu Yun successfully entered a special instance overseen by Ghost King Gou Baopu.
While other players hesitated over whether to trade items for coins to survive, Zhu Yun went straight into his office, placed down her entire fortune, and said: “Buy me information on a dead-end instance.”
The visions of prophecy only ever showed the death scene itself, not the detailed process.
Hearing the words “dead-end instance” from a player’s mouth, Gou Baopu showed no surprise. Instead, he smiled faintly and pushed her items back toward her.
Zhu Yun frowned. “Not enough?”
Gou Baopu walked to the window, threw a withered flower branch into the trash can, and spoke in a rare tone tinged with thin pity: “In this world, only life and death are irreversible.”
Zhu Yun was silent for a moment, then asked, “So it isn’t that the future can’t be changed, but that life and death cannot be reversed?”
Gou Baopu nodded.
Her expression unchanged, Zhu Yun continued calmly analyzing: “Unlike other players, when I entered the game I was already dead—already a snake-person. No matter how powerful the game is, it can’t truly bring the dead back to life, can it?”
Those last words carried a touch of dark humor. Gou Baopu glanced back at her, his opinion of her rising slightly, and said one more sentence than usual: “The game can fabricate a false prosperity using nothing but cold data. But falsehood is still falsehood. It is not a god—it cannot create life.”
“I understand.”
Zhu Yun put her items away, pushed the door open, and left his office.
Her expression remained cold, but when she blinked, her eyes shimmered faintly red.
Nighttime corridors were dangerous. Most players exchanged their coins immediately for a relatively safe guest room. But Zhu Yun had been suppressing herself too long—she needed slaughter to vent. So she walked the corridor alone.
In the dim half-light, she saw a player leaning against the wall at the corner. Instinctively, she classified him as another unlucky soul who hadn’t scraped together enough for a room. She ignored him and continued forward. Just as they were about to pass each other, she suddenly stopped. If she remembered correctly, this was the player ranked number one in total coins for this instance.
“You didn’t book a room?”
Su Er shook his head. “No. I’m waiting to fight monsters.”
This wasn’t like a video game—killing monsters here didn’t give you experience, only drained your strength.
For a player capable of earning several achievement points, he clearly wasn’t an idiot. It could only mean there was some unexpected benefit.
Zhu Yun thought for a moment. “Together? You take the reward.”
She also needed battle to vent her emotions.
Su Er replied seriously, “This benefit only applies to me.”
As he spoke, the corridor lights went out one by one from the far end, until the last light above them extinguished. From the ceiling, a ghostly shadow appeared. It was a man with eight arms, scuttling toward them like a spider. Poison dripped from his mouth onto the red carpet, corroding it into pitted holes.
Su Er showed no intent to run. As he pulled out an item, he calmly began:
“Li Huaimeng. Male. Outstanding student during school, winner of an International Mathematical Olympiad gold medal, first prize in a computer science competition, and other high-level awards. After graduation, he used his talents for fraud, scamming sums in the nine-digit range. Later, he was stabbed to death by the grieving relative of a victim… This is information I bought from Gou Baopu.”
The moment he finished the last word, a gaping maw opened above his head.
Without changing expression, Su Er jabbed upward with a steel rod.
On his own he could have handled it easily, and with Zhu Yun’s help, the two of them quickly knocked the spider-man off the ceiling.
“Leave him alive,” As Zhu Yun was ready to finish him with a clean throat-slit, Su Er stopped her.
He tore off Li Huaimeng’s extra limbs, leaving only the arm on his chest, then pulled a rolled-up workbook from his sleeve, flicked on a flashlight, and said: “I don’t understand this problem. Why is the maximum value of a equal to three?”
Li Huaimeng stared at him, utterly bewildered. “What the hell?”
Su Er’s gaze darkened, and he kicked him to the other side. “Answer me.”
Having been a ghost for so long, luckily this question wasn’t difficult. Enduring the pain, Li Huaimeng quickly gave the answer.
Su Er immediately asked him a few more, then let him go, adding casually, “Do you know any ghosts who are good at chemistry? If you do, introduce them to me.”
Trading with Gou Baopu was really not cost-effective.
Li Huaimeng reflexively shook his head.
Considering that he still had some use, Su Er didn’t make things too hard. “I’ll come find you again tomorrow night.”
“......”a
Li Huaimeng felt as if he’d just woken from a dream. In a daze, he dragged his body with the only arm he had left, retreating along the same path, scarred both physically and mentally.
Su Er put away the workbook, then turned to Zhu Yun. “Thanks. Otherwise, dealing with this multi-limbed ghost would have cost me some effort.”
Zhu Yun forced a smile.
The forest is vast—there’s every kind of bird in it.
She had just begun to feel a touch of sentiment when her expression suddenly changed. An image struck her mind without warning.
“You…”
The passive prophecy triggered, instantly draining her strength.
But she couldn’t care about that now. Zhu Yun’s eyes widened in shock as she stared at Su Er. She saw it—she saw this man surviving a dead-end instance!
Like a beauty clutching her chest in distress, Zhu Yun looked fragile. Yet instead of seizing the chance to take advantage, Su Er suddenly stepped back, righteous and stern: “I don’t accept any form of staged scam!”
Zhu Yun: “…I…”
“I know. You want to get physical first, then force me to take responsibility.”
With that, Su Er even took up a defensive stance. “I already have someone. I won’t cheat outside.”
Ignoring his nonsense, Zhu Yun’s gaze darkened. “You’ve obtained an admission ticket to Deception.”
Her tone was almost certain.
Su Er raised a brow and spread his hands. “You should’ve said so earlier. Turns out you’re after money—I thought you were after my body.”
Zhu Yun quietly drew a deep breath. Could it be that only by living madly enough could one leave this game? She forcibly shut out the messy thoughts, lowered her eyes, then suddenly made a decision. Drawing a knife, she didn’t point it at Su Er, but at herself.
She thrust the tip from her eye socket upward, blood gushing. A few minutes later, Zhu Yun had perfectly gouged out an eyeball. Her bloodstained white hand stretched it toward Su Er. “Touch it.”
In an instant, all of Su Er’s frivolous demeanor vanished. He pulled out a defensive tool, then cautiously extended only one finger to touch it.
It was definitely not an ordinary human eye. The moment it was removed, the pupil automatically shifted into a vertical slit. Su Er could feel an extraordinary power within it.
After downing a healing potion, Zhu Yun slowly began recounting her story. She avoided explicit words like “dead-end” for fear the game would erase her.
Su Er already held fragments of information. From her veiled phrases, he pieced together some logic.
“I understand most of what you said. But why gouge out your eye?”
Zhu Yun: “If I didn’t prove I was a Snake Person, you wouldn’t believe me.” Afterward, she tore a strip of cloth and carefully wiped the blood from her hands. “Earlier, you said you already have someone. Is it someone you like?”
Su Er curled his lip, denying stubbornly, “It’s just that he has an unrequited crush on me.”
The next five minutes passed in silence.
Su Er was the first to break it. “What conditions must be met for you to deduce a stranger’s future?”
Zhu Yun: “You want me to divine your admirer?”
Su Er nodded.
Zhu Yun shook her head. “A photo is enough, but I won’t help you.”
The price was too great.
Su Er spoke seriously. “I can help you find a way out.”
Both were shrewd. No one gave without gain. Earlier, Zhu Yun gouged out her own eye; now it was his turn to offer. “If you can’t live as a human, that doesn’t mean you can’t live as a ghost. There’s an old lady in the castle who loves my skin. When the time comes, I’ll peel off all my skin, and you’ll gouge out both your eyes. We’ll provide the materials together.”
Zhu Yun was ruthless, but she hadn’t expected him to be even more ruthless. “Why?”
“I… I once entered an instance with that pursuer of mine. We encountered a peculiar species called the Painted-Skin Ghost.”
As Su Er described its traits, Zhu Yun immediately understood. “To become a Ghost King?”
Su Er nodded. “Since the game cannot reverse life and death, then redefine your goal.”
It was a painful choice. Zhu Yun’s fingertips went white, her nails nearly breaking the skin of her palms. Under the sting of pain, she finally decided to accept his suggestion.
After calming herself as agreed, Zhu Yun began her divination.
Su Er pulled out a group photo from his pocket and pointed to the taller figure. “Here. This one—his name is Ji Heng.”
The divination took a great toll. Zhu Yun’s remaining eye became bloodshot to an extreme degree. If not for constant healing potions, it would have exploded long ago.
“He will stay inside the game,” Zhu Yun said weakly, giving a cryptic answer.
Zhu Yun had thought Su Er would be devastated and in pain, but unexpectedly, his face was calm. Curious, she asked, “You’re not upset?”
Su Er gave a soft scoff. “In a game world, where would you ever find a happy ending?”
His gaze then grew unfathomable, and he abruptly changed the subject. “We look about the same age. What year are you in high school?”
“Second year.”
Su Er immediately said, “Transfer schools. Sit next to me. It’ll make future cooperation easier.”
Zhu Yun refused without a second thought. “I prefer to act alone. I don’t join any organizations.”
Su Er waved his hand. “Not that kind of cooperation.”
Fearing that certain keywords might be detected, he wrote a few words in her palm: Help me return in the future.
Zhu Yun’s fingers trembled. She lifted her gaze at him in surprise, but Su Er stood there calmly, showing no intention of changing his mind.
After a long silence, Zhu Yun closed her fingers and said softly, “Alright.”
Beneath the night sky, the most sinful deal in the game was thus sealed.
The icy lake water soaked her body. Zhu Yun gazed at the moon in the sky, silent.
It had been a long time since she had thought of the past, yet tonight those memories flickered through her mind like fleeting lanterns.
“Only life and death are irreversible.”
The sorrowful murmur slipped from her lips.
Back then, she had been drowning, and Su Er was the straw she clutched. The chance of survival was slim, so she hadn’t held much hope. But to her surprise, their plan had gone so smoothly.
Ghosts could drift between spaces under the excuse of “odd jobs.” After falling into ghosthood herself, she had entered the world of Wudu. By summoning a Painted-Skin Ghost, she pulled Su Er ahead of time into the Dead-End instance.
The only deviation from the plan was that she had been supposed to orchestrate Su Er and Ji Heng’s meeting. Who would have thought those two would miraculously team up again on their own?
Suddenly, Zhu Yun’s thoughts snapped back. Her brows furrowed slightly. …Here to stir trouble again?
The clear lake water began to thicken, carrying a rotting stench. A portion of it lingered around her, corroding her skin. The one behind these tricks was the new host… Teng Snake Lord.
Some time ago, for reasons unknown, Divine Seer had gone to the novice field, and Deception temporarily shut down. With no one guarding the Labyrinth, Teng Snake Lord had volunteered to take over Tianji City’s duties, and since then, he had come to cause trouble every few days.
“It’s your fault you have ties with Su Er.” Teng Snake Lord appeared midair, intensifying the lake’s corrosiveness as his face twisted grimly. “As long as I’m here, don’t even think of evolving into a Ghost King.”
Tianji City once had a Ghost King, Tianyi Gua. Before Zhu Yun entered the game, they had been from the same family, so Tianyi Gua hadn’t struck to kill, tolerating two tigers on one mountain.
But the game itself would never allow that. Teng Snake Lord exploited this perfectly.
Under the strong corrosion, the scales on Zhu Yun’s arms festered, her back burned by the water.
Satisfied with the result, Teng Snake Lord sneered maliciously. “Here’s some advice—get out of this world now. Demons grow by devouring each other. Your kindred lurking in the shadows can’t wait any longer.”
Even before his words ended, snakes began slithering from the grass and rafters.
This lake was the only place in the instance rich with yin energy. Without its feedback, relying solely on the Painted-Skin Ghost’s power, Zhu Yun had nearly no chance of becoming a Ghost King.
Yet faced with cruel reality, she could only rise silently before the snake swarm closed in, dragging her wounded body away in disgrace.
Teng Snake Lord, satisfied, shook his wings and felt invigorated.
Meanwhile, driven out of Tianji City, Zhu Yun didn’t wander aimlessly. She went to Deception. Hiding there for four months, she finally awaited the annual Report Day.
Report Day was, in truth, a day to report bugs. Hosts or ghosts who discovered loopholes in the rules could submit them. If accepted by the game, they would receive rewards.
That year, over a hundred hosts came. Teng Snake Lord was also there. To avoid being discovered, Zhu Yun entered at the very last moment.
An hour passed. Of the seventy or eighty hosts and ghosts who reported, only three suggestions were accepted.
In the audience, Divine Seer, seated next to Gou Baopu, suddenly furrowed his brow with a sense of foreboding.
Before he could calculate, another Snake Person appeared on the report stage.
Zhu Yun calmly spoke to the shadowed monitor: “No one understands the loopholes of the rules better than Su Er. Hire him once as a host, let a host play the role of a player, and the gains will be unimaginable.”
The previously silent hall burst into chaos.
Teng Snake Lord’s wings trembled with rage, his voice full of venom. “Is this woman insane? Isn’t she afraid of being hated?”
In truth, Zhu Yun was rational. If her suggestion were accepted, the game would provide her with a great deal of yin energy. With it, she was confident she could ascend to Ghost King.
Hosts could not inflict harm upon a Ghost King without reason, or the rules would punish them.
Gou Baopu’s smile stiffened. Divine Seer closed his eyes, finally realizing the source of his unease.
“With such an outrageous proposal, the game will never agree,” a host sitting behind them muttered to reassure himself.
But as the game stayed silent, countless ghosts and hosts felt their hearts rise to their throats. Then, before their very eyes, the corroded scales on Zhu Yun’s arms smoothed over, and she evolved into a Ghost King in full public view.
To prevent others from seizing the spoils, the game directly delivered the rewards into the body of whoever’s suggestion was accepted.
Now that Zhu Yun had ascended to Ghost King, the game’s stance was clear.
Hosts who had never dealt with Su Er were fine, but those who had looked uglier by the second.
One ghost, who had lost his job because of Su Er, fainted on the spot.
After being revived, a fellow ghost rolled his eyes. “You’re not even a host. What are you so worked up about?”
“You don’t get it. What if we’re assigned to work in an instance Su Er is hosting?”
“......”a
At once, countless eyes stabbed at Zhu Yun like knives, as if to tear her into a thousand pieces. Yet she remained utterly calm. Facing one direction, she gave a deep bow. “For the grace of rebirth, I will never forget.”
She didn’t elaborate. She knew that soon enough, people would dig into the reason. Once they discovered she had been driven out of Tianji City and forced to earn yin energy this way, Teng Snake Lord would inevitably be blamed.
She descended the stage unhurriedly. Passing by Teng Snake Lord, her voice was flat, as though nothing that had happened today could stir her heart. “There’s a term. It’s called ‘outside assistance.’”
After a pause, she added, “Give my regards to Su Er.”
A suffocating silence fell over the hall.
No one knew how long it lasted before Teng Snake Lord finally snapped, his scales bristling with fury. “Damn your whole family! Get back here!”
If not for Divine Seer grabbing his tail tip, he would have rushed forward.
But that graceful figure had already gone far away, as though she had never appeared at all.
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