Reality
Before long, all the vengeful ghost released into the hall were consumed by Fu Moyang’s hellfire. The two hidden players were soon found on the second floor.
The Puppeteer and the Magician fell silent for a moment upon seeing them. Their initial panic was quickly replaced by an odd feeling… like they’d just been force-fed dog food.
Seeing their expressions, Chen Li—still being held in Fu Moyang’s arms—felt even more embarrassed.
Back downstairs, Fu Moyang had decided Chen Li was walking too slowly and picked him up in a full-on princess carry.
Resigned, Chen Li buried himself in Fu Moyang’s chest and muttered in a muffled voice: “You should leave. Lowly commoners like you don’t belong on my estate.”
It matched the original character’s persona. In the eyes of the noble master, the circus troupe had outlived their usefulness and were now just worthless commoners.
The Magician’s eyes filled with fear: “But…”
Her face and body were stained with blood—proof of the brutal struggle she’d just survived in the hall.
The Puppeteer interrupted her: “We understand.”
She turned and gave her companion a subtle signal.
The Magician froze, then her eyes welled up with tears. Without another word, she let the Puppeteer pull her away, stumbling as they made their way downstairs.
It was almost over. The days of fear and torment felt like a nightmare finally coming to an end.
From the second-floor window, Chen Li watched them run across the garden, racing through the blazing red roses. They reached the castle gates and stopped, hesitating for just a moment to look back—then turned and ran without looking back again.
As they crossed the threshold, an invisible barrier shimmered briefly.
But the game didn’t end.
Because one player still hadn’t left.
Chen Li said quietly: “You should go.”
He thought he’d feel pure relief… but what he felt instead was complicated.
He couldn’t help but think of the first instance—back when he thought he’d never see Fu Moyang again.
But his feelings now were completely different.
When he didn’t get a response, Chen Li snuck a glance upward: “You…”
The rest of his words died in his throat.
Too close. The man was too close.
Close enough to kiss.
The sudden thought startled him. Chen Li quickly shut his eyes.
They were both men!
And with his eyes closed, he didn’t see the smile that flickered briefly in Fu Moyang’s eyes.
Fu Moyang finally set him down after they descended the stairs. Behind them, the garden burned with hellfire and the castle was ablaze. Just one step forward, and the game would be cleared.
But Fu Moyang didn’t move. He looked down: “Don’t you have anything you want to ask me?”
There were many things Chen Li wanted to ask. The man was full of mysteries. But after a moment of hesitation, he only asked one: “Will I see you again in the next game?”
A soft, amused laugh came from above.
Embarrassed, Chen Li glared at him with his round, glistening almond-shaped eyes: “What are you laughing at?”
Even he felt a little awkward.
He’d spent so much time complaining about how Fu Moyang bullied him—but now, standing on the verge of separation, he felt a hint of reluctance. Even if he wouldn’t say it out loud, Fu Moyang had become a source of real comfort.
Fu Moyang smiled: “As long as you want to.”
He took Chen Li’s hand and walked with him toward the castle gate.
The moment they stepped through it, the barrier shattered, and the entire world shifted.
When Chen Li opened his eyes again, he was back in that familiar, pure white space.
[Ding dong!]
[Congratulations, host! You’ve cleared the second instance! Mission settlement: Final fear points – 350.]
Chen Li blinked, dazed. He hadn’t expected the last two days to boost the fear points that much. No doubt Sanna played a part in that.
The paintings on the castle’s interior walls had been the hidden subplot of the whole instance.
“System, Emily—no, Sanna… What exactly was going on with her?” Chen Li’s tone grew serious.
Why had the previous instance’s core NPC followed him into a new one—disguising herself to get close?
The little glowing ball, System 001, froze in place. [Well… you did say that since you were a kid, fortune-tellers kept saying you had a physique that attracts ghosts.]
Its voice grew smaller and smaller, until the last syllable was barely audible.
Chen Li’s eyes widened slightly: “I thought he was a con artist?!”
After all, aside from that strange recurring dream he’d had since he was sixteen, nothing supernatural had ever happened to him—until now.
System 001: [That’s because there are no vengeful ghosts in your real world, so you never encountered any. Didn’t you notice that the bosses in both instances were unusually interested in you?]
Fortunately, the lower-level ghosts didn’t react much to him—only the more powerful ghosts seemed attracted.
Chen Li suddenly thought of Joker and shivered: “Will he come out of his instance to chase me, too?”
System 001: [No idea.] It responded self-righteously.
Chen Li asked seriously: “001, are you really my golden cheat finger?”
System 001 choked on the words for a second before replying indignantly: [Hmph! But I did find out that he wasn’t actually the real core NPC of that instance. He was just filling in for someone!]
“Filling in…” Chen Li’s mouth twitched.
He hadn’t expected that being an NPC apparently involved shift work and performance quotas.
System 001: [Even I’ve never seen something like this before. Originally, the boss of that instance—B-44—was an old man with a thick mustache.]
Clearly, that was nothing like the young and sinister Joker.
System 001: [And his real identity? He was actually a guide-type NPC.]
“Just like me?” Chen Li wasn’t just surprised—it also kind of made sense. “No wonder it always felt like he could see right through me.”
System 001: [Relax, guide-type NPCs are all egotistical and prideful. They’re unlikely to latch onto you.]
Trying to reassure the host, System 001 quickly changed the subject: [Wanna leave system space and take a peek at the players’ world?]
“I can do that as an NPC?” Chen Li asked, surprised.
He’d thought he could only browse forums or observe quietly—he never expected to be able to mingle with players.
System 001: [Of course you can.] It puffed up with pride. [Do you even know who I am? Other guide-NPCs can’t do it, but I can directly jump you over. Just make sure to keep your identity hidden.]
“Meow~”
Something hard rubbed up against his leg. Chen Li looked down to see the ghost bus, now shrunk down to prop size, rubbing against him like a spoiled cat.
“You want to come too?”
“Meow!”
Chen Li bent down to pick it up: “Then let’s go.”
It felt like holding a slightly heavy toy car.
System 001 hovered beside them, muttering: “Tch.”
Chen Li changed into a black robe that covered nearly his entire face, only a delicate chin exposed. With System 001’s help, he jumped into the player space.
And was nearly dazzled by the world before him.
The scene was both punk and fantastical—floating blocks of all sizes filled the air. People constantly entered and exited the blocks, seemingly unaffected by gravity.
Chen Li had worried he’d stand out, but now he realized he’d been overthinking it.
Plenty of people here were fully concealed, just like him. Some had even just emerged from instances, still covered in blood.
System 001: [They can’t see me. Go wherever you want—don’t worry about a thing.]
Chen Li took a few steps, but soon realized… he didn’t actually have anywhere he wanted to go.
He didn’t belong to any player guilds, nor did he understand what any of these floating blocks even were.
System 001: [Some players even cut ties with the real world and live entirely inside these blocks. As long as you have enough points, you can buy your own private block. These blocks are basically like “buildings” in your world.]
Eventually, curiosity got the better of him. Chen Li moved toward the nearest block: [Are there restaurants and stuff here too?]
He could touch this block just by raising his hand.
System 001: [Of course there are. There’s everything here. The one right above your head? That’s an arcade.]
Although it wasn’t the restaurant he had originally wanted to explore, Chen Li still reached out and lightly tapped the block.
In an instant, the world spun wildly, and he found himself standing on the block, defying gravity.
The people on the ground were now upside down from his perspective, heads all pointing toward him. Yet he stood beneath the floating block as if it were solid ground. Before him, a door appeared out of nowhere.
Instinctively, as if guided by some inner knowledge, Chen Li understood: this was the entrance into the block.
His heart pounding with nervous excitement, he slowly turned the doorknob…
. . . . .
At the same time, in another space undetectable by the system, a meeting was underway—between a group of guide-type NPCs.
Although technically a “meeting,” the atmosphere was more laid-back chaos than orderly discussion. They lounged or stood however they pleased, exuding a sense of indifference.
If any outsider were to stumble upon this gathering, they’d be scared out of their wits. Every NPC present was a top-tier name, infamously ranked on the NPC leaderboard—monsters who didn’t bat an eye at murder.
In the deathly silence, one NPC finally broke the stillness with a hiss:
“Hss… He’s so small. Still just a cub.”
His face was severely disfigured, riddled with burn scars, and when he spoke, a forked tongue flicked out from his mouth.
A female NPC in a kimono, shading herself under a red parasol, replied gracefully:
“He’s not. According to human standards, he’s already an adult.”
A writhing blob of indescribable limbs muttered dreamily: “He’s so cute… I just want to… want to wrap my tentacles around him…”
The surrounding NPCs quietly moved further away from it.
A low murmur of discussion spread across the group—they were like a pack of colossal beasts circling a kitten, trying not to bare their fangs.
Joker, legs crossed, sneered from his seat: “Shut up. You’re all cowards.”
As the only one among them who had directly interacted with the human—and even given him a rose—his voice immediately drew everyone’s attention.
But Joker’s mood was far from good.
He’d only left the instance in a brief fit of pique… and when he came back, that little marshmallow had already completed the game.
One NPC grumbled: “You scared him.”
Everyone instinctively understood who he referred to.
They couldn’t see the whole game, only Joker’s perspective. But that was more than enough.
A flicker of blue ghost fire swept by, its voice dripping with scorn: “Didn’t you swear, before you left, that no human NPC could ever sway your will?”
In reality, it had taken one day before Joker was trailing behind like a sad puppy, ready to be someone’s personal butler.
“Shut up!!” Joker exploded with fury, completely losing his cool.
He reached out with clawed fingers and seized the source of the blue ghostly flame—the Phantom Horse.
Unwilling to back down, the Phantom Horse raised its hooves, cold light gleaming ominously beneath them.
Just as the two were about to clash without holding back, Hongye spun her umbrella, instantly releasing a flurry of throwing weapons to separate them.
Back in the day, she wouldn’t have had the patience to stop a fight.
Bloodlust had become second nature. Other NPCs would’ve been more than happy to let the conflict escalate. But now, they all had something more important on their minds—the human NPC.
He looked far too obedient, completely out of place among them. So even though they were deeply drawn to him, they all held back, not daring to get too close.
Only the deranged clown ignored the consequences—and that made him the one they envied most.
Joker sneered coldly: “If you want to play coy, that’s your business. Just don’t bother me.”
With that, he tossed a bouncy ball that exploded into a dazzling cloud of smoke, disappearing from sight.
He was off to find his little cotton candy.