Sacrificial Lamb (4)
The commotion on this side of the estate had drawn the attention of some players nearby. Their faces were grim, and they rushed over, panting heavily. Their eyes locked onto Chen Li’s, staring at him with suspicion and unease.
Even if this mansion was quite large, was it really enough to tire them out like this?
Chen Li finally came back to his senses and glanced at them with a complicated expression. His heart was still pounding wildly. At this point, he didn’t bother hiding his fear—he instinctively stepped back, wanting to stay as far away from the corpse as possible.
Under everyone’s gaze, Wang Ke, feeling the pressure, was the first to speak: “Holy Son, why are you here?”
His floral shirt was smeared with dirt from who-knows-where, and he looked completely disheveled.
System 001 explained: [They just ran into a ghost hitting a wall. If you hadn’t made any noise here, they might’ve been stuck until they collapsed.]
So it was the noise that led them to an exit. Chen Li forced himself to ignore the corpse and replied with a distant look in his eyes: “I just came to take a look.”
As for what he was looking at—he’d leave that to the players’ imaginations.
After all, he no longer had a mission panel. Everything now depended on how well he could stick to his character.
Fortunately, aloof detachment seemed to be one of the Holy Son’s defining traits, so the system didn’t flag him for breaking character.
The players glanced at the body, then at him. Clearly, they didn’t quite buy the excuse of just “taking a look.”
Chen Li decided to go on the offensive. He asked directly: “Who killed them?”
The players looked at one another but no one could answer.
Chen Li pretended to be angry: “Aren’t you supposed to be detectives? The town didn’t bring you here to freeload!”
His eyes reddened as he spoke, and a lingering mist of tears from the earlier fright still shimmered in them.
He looked more like a frightened, pitiful little thing than someone angry.
The players, who should’ve been the ones feeling afraid, instead felt a strange sense of discomfort. None of them said a word.
After planting the question, Chen Li created the perfect excuse to slip away. He turned and walked off, keeping his head high and his eyes averted from the corpse.
Inside, though, he was trembling.
[System, is the whole family dead?]
System 001: [Yes, all five of them. The youngest son was only two years old.]
It was horrific—pure evil. Who could do such a thing?
The eldest son of the Zhou family had just been chosen as a sacrificial offering, and then was found dead at home the very next day—anyone would think the two events are connected.
But why? Could it have been someone else from the town?
As the thought crossed his mind, the memory of being bullied in the bath came flooding back.
Chen Li’s eyes widened. Could it have been that ghost?
There was no doubt that this town had ghosts. The players had just experienced a ghost hitting a wall themselves.
It was broad daylight, yet Chen Li felt chilled by his own imagination. Though he stood in sunlight, it felt like he was being watched by countless ghosts.
Unnoticed, the players had caught up with him. The one with the colorful floral shirt—clearly the boldest—tentatively asked: “Now that the offering is dead, what’s going to happen to your town’s ritual?”
It was a blunt question for an outsider. According to classic horror game tropes, the next step would be for a player to take the offering’s place—and die.
Chen Li didn’t know how the story would progress, so he vaguely replied: “Depends on what the High Priest decides.”
The players latched onto that. Wang Ke couldn’t help but ask: “So it’s the High Priest who chooses the offering?”
So they didn’t know.
Chen Li had only picked that up from a few gossipy servants in the mansion. He nodded: “Yeah.”
It was probably some sort of fortune-telling ritual, rooted in superstition and old beliefs.
The longer he stayed in the courtyard, the more that creeping feeling of being watched returned. The hairs on his neck stood on end, and he didn’t dare dwell on it. He turned and left the Zhou household.
News spread fast in the small town. Not long after Chen Li left, the Zhou family’s corpses were discovered, and word of the offering’s death spread like wildfire.
But no one seemed to care that the Zhou family of five had died.
Everyone was too consumed with fear over the ritual.
Everyone on the street was nervous.
“We need a new offering! We must find one!”
“The Mountain God will be enraged! He’ll punish us all!”
Chen Li watched as a father, gripped by anxiety, began hitting his own child, yelling with a red face: “We need an offering! You might as well be it!”
The child screamed in pain. Even knowing it was just an NPC, Chen Li couldn’t help but feel disturbed. He was about to step in when the child suddenly turned and stared straight at him.
Though still crying loudly, the child’s face contorted in a strange, eerie way, as if his expression belonged to someone else entirely. His lips moved silently:
Sacrifice.
Chen Li jumped back in shock and bolted toward the mansion.
No matter how fast he ran, he couldn’t escape the child’s screams echoing in his ears.
This seemingly peaceful and quiet town had been ripped apart, revealing the filth and rot beneath the surface.
Fear hung thick in the air, twisting the townspeople into something unrecognizable. Gone was their earlier warmth—now the streets were filled with shouting, fighting, and chaos.
Even couples, close friends, and family members—no matter how deep their bond—were now screaming curses at each other, pointing fingers, and demanding to know why the sacrifice couldn’t have been the other person.
It was like a chaotic, unhinged carnival.
Gradually, people began to notice him. Faces twisted with madness, they reached out toward him, snarling: “Sacrifice! Sacrifice!”
The scene was eerily reminiscent of the first instance he’d experienced—villagers chasing him down. But this time, Fu Moyang wasn’t here to help.
The townspeople had completely lost their minds. The moment they locked eyes with him, they would shriek and lunge at him in twisted rage. He didn’t dare look around, only keeping his head down as he ran.
A beggar in tattered clothes lying on the ground suddenly reached out and grabbed his ankle. Though he didn’t quite catch him, the shock made Chen Li stumble to a stop.
The crazed townspeople surged after him like a tidal wave. Terrified, Chen Li shut his eyes tight, bracing for the pain—when suddenly a loud crash sounded behind him. Something heavy had hit the ground.
A familiar, whining meow startled him into opening his eyes and looking back.
“Meow~!”
Chen Li’s eyes lit up: “Ghost Bus?”
The Ghost Bus flung its doors open, blocking the townspeople like a solid, reliable wall.
Chen Li climbed aboard and was immediately greeted by the cool breeze of the air conditioning.
The crazed crowd didn’t fixate on him for long. Soon, they shifted targets, attacking weaker victims—even turning on each other.
The once-peaceful town had suddenly descended into madness.
Inside the bus and outside—it was like two different worlds.
Still shaken, Chen Li patted the steering wheel: “Can you take me to the High Priest?”
Something was very wrong.
It was like they were all under some kind of curse.
The Ghost Bus, finally able to be of help, honked excitedly and drove him over.
The mansion was empty. Chen Li patted the bus gratefully and thanked it before storing it away.
The entire place was so quiet, not even the chirping of insects could be heard. Only a single bird perched at a short distance, staring at him.
“You’ve arrived.”
The sudden voice from behind made Chen Li flinch. He didn’t dare turn around: “High Priest?”
“It’s me,” came the raspy reply, gradually drawing closer.
Though the voice was right behind him, Chen Li felt as if some ghost had clawed its way out of hell to claim his life.
“Don’t worry,” the High Priest suddenly chuckled. “I’ve already found a replacement for the sacrifice—or rather, the perfect sacrifice.”
A chill crept over Chen Li. He forced down the trembling in his throat: “Then… will the townspeople stop going mad?”
“Them?” The High Priest paused in disgust. “A bunch of damned ticks—once this is over, I’m going to root them all out.”
Ticks? Was he talking about the townspeople?
But something in Chen Li’s gut told him they weren’t talking about the same thing at all.
The High Priest continued to approach, stopping just half a meter behind. From an angle Chen Li couldn’t see, a flicker of fear crossed his expression.
“The ritual will take place tomorrow,” the High Priest said. “There must be no mistakes, so I’ve called in help.”
“Help?” Chen Li blinked nervously.
“Come.”
Footsteps echoed behind him. Chen Li turned and saw familiar faces.
The tattooed man gave him a forced smile: “Holy Son…”
“You’re helping with the ritual?” Chen Li asked.
“Yes.”
The female player beside him looked even worse off—her hair disheveled, clothes torn, and injuries scattered across her body. Clearly, she’d also been attacked by the crazed townspeople.
Something felt very off, but Chen Li couldn’t put his finger on it. He asked: “Who’s the new sacrifice?”
The players exchanged uneasy glances and looked toward the High Priest.
“The neighbor of the Zhou family,” the High Priest replied. “Their son grew up alongside the Zhou family’s eldest. It’s a sign—a perfect one.”
The sense of wrongness in Chen Li grew stronger. He looked at the High Priest’s mask and, for a moment, thought he saw one of the eyes wink at him.
But when he looked again, it was just decoration—like an illusion.
Chen Li didn’t dare stay any longer. “Then I’ll take my leave,” he said as he slowly backed away.
The High Priest smiled for once: “Rest well.”
His gaze was like a venomous snake, coiling around him. Just being looked at made Chen Li feel sick.
This time, he didn’t hesitate—he turned and ran to his room, barricading the door with a stick.
[001, everyone in this town is really weird.]
Just now, he’d nearly mistaken those townspeople for actual vengeful ghosts coming to claim lives.
Uncontrollably, Chen Li remembered the method Fu Moyang had once taught him.
“See ghosts from between your legs.”
Thinking of that person, Chen Li pursed his lips, visibly becoming gloomy.
System 001 quickly changed the subject: [Go to sleep, Host. You have to participate in the ritual tomorrow as the Holy Son.]
Chen Li pulled the blanket over himself. The warmth was like a protective barrier, pressing down the lingering fear.
He carefully tucked in the corners, making sure no hands or feet were exposed before closing his eyes and obediently saying goodnight to the system.
There was no familiar, comforting presence by his side, and after everything he’d seen during the day, it was no surprise that Chen Li couldn’t sleep.
It wasn’t until dawn that he finally drifted off—but even then, it was restless, his consciousness stuck in a constant loop of fleeing, fleeing…
A voice was calling him.
[Host, Host!]
Chen Li jolted awake. Everything before him was bathed in red.
He tried to move but couldn’t. His hands and feet were tightly bound with coarse rope.
The floor beneath him shook violently. Outside, he could hear the beating of drums and clashing of gongs. A sharp voice pierced the air:
“Make way—the sacrifice is on the move!”
Author’s note:
This is what it means to walk straight into the tiger’s den. (Nods)