[A rainy night. | “Would the player like to return to reality?”]
The night grew deep as the rain poured heavily.
Lin Qingchi held a black umbrella as he knocked on a door along Guteng Alley.
“Who is it?” an old man’s raspy voice called out from inside.
“It’s me, Xiao Chi. I’m back.”
With a creak, the door swung open.
Leaning on a walking stick, the old man saw a tall, slender figure standing outside.
Lin Qingchi held the umbrella in his right hand, but in his left hand, he held a blade.
It was a pitch-black long saber, its hilt wrapped in a layer of white tsuka-ito, while fresh blood dripped steadily from the tip.
*Drip. Drip.* The blood fell to the ground, only to be washed away instantly by the torrential downpour.
“Why does it smell like blood?” The old man sniffed in confusion. “My good grandson, did you get restless in the middle of the night and go out to slaughter a chicken?”
Lin Qingchi let out a soft laugh and nodded. “That’s right. Not only did I kill a chicken, but I also killed ten ducks, a hundred geese, and…”
A sudden crack of thunder split the sky, illuminating his pale, cold face and the casual smile resting upon it.
“…a million ghosts,” he said.
The old man involuntarily took a step back, a flash of panic flitting across his face before he shook his head with a scolding laugh. “What’s all this talk about chickens, ducks, geese, and ghosts? Are there even that many things in this town for you to kill? Good grandson, stop joking with your grandfather. It’s pouring outside, so hurry inside, take a bath, and get some rest.”
Lin Qingchi stared at the old man’s face for a moment before stepping into the house.
He closed the black umbrella, shook off the water, and rested it against the doorframe, walking further inside with his blade in hand.
Blood was still dripping down the length of the steel. *Drip. Drip.* Tracing a winding trail of crimson along the floor as he walked.
The vintage television set in the living room was playing something, its screen flickering with poor signal quality, looking as though the picture had frozen.
The old man watched Lin Qingchi walk all the way into the room deep down the hallway. Only after the bedroom door locked did he shakily lean on his walking stick and shuffle over to the front of the TV.
Then, he slammed a fist straight into the TV’s screen.
“Play! Why don’t you keep playing!” The old man jabbed his finger angrily at the television, berating it.
The image on the screen showed a solitary well, frozen still for a long time. Looking closely, a pale hand could be seen clutching the edge of the well.
Now, likely due to the punch, the flickering picture finally began to shift.
Another pale hand reached out to grab the well’s edge. Clutching tight with both hands, a woman in white with her face obscured by long, disheveled hair pulled herself up out of the well, staring mournfully out at him.
“Finally back to work, are we?” The old man drew his fist back, breathing heavily. “He’s gone into his room. Don’t just hang around here in the living room—go connect to the TV in his room!”
Hearing this, the woman in white inside the television raised a hand with pitch-black, razor-sharp nails and flipped him off.
Then, with lightning speed, she pulled herself straight back down into the well.
The television screen went completely black.
The old man: “…”
‘No way. Sis.’
With a fierce look on its face, it grabbed a heavy, blood-stained battleaxe hidden under a pile of junk, raising it toward the TV, ready to chop it to pieces.
“Grandpa, what are you doing this late?”
The inner bedroom door suddenly cracked open slightly, and Lin Qingchi’s voice drifted out eerily from within.
Panicked, the old man hurriedly hid the heavy axe behind its back, letting out a self-deprecating chuckle toward the doorway. “I don’t know why the TV broke, so I was just trying to see if I could fix it.”
“If the TV is broken, let me fix it. Grandpa, you’re getting up there in age—be careful not to throw out your back.”
As Lin Qingchi spoke, he pushed the door open and stepped out of the room.
In just that short span of time, he seemed to have already taken a shower. His long black hair draped damply over his shoulders, and his clothes were still dripping with water.
That pitch-black blade was no longer in his hands.
The old man breathed a sigh of relief.
“You fix it then, you fix it. I’ll go watch a bit of TV in your room.”
‘Better you than me.’ It quickly cleared the space in front of the TV set and, keeping the axe concealed behind its back, shuffled sideways toward the bedroom on trembling feet.
Lin Qingchi politely shifted half a step aside, making room for the old man to enter the room.
Stepping inside the bedroom, the old man let out a long, deep breath.
The furnishings inside were very simple: a single bed, a study desk, a wardrobe, and on a small cabinet in the corner sat another television set.
At this time, the room was dim and hazy, lit only by the desk lamp.
The quilt on the bed was neatly folded, yet a massive pool of black blood seeped out from underneath. The lock from the wardrobe door lay on the floor as well.
Seeing the pool of blood and the broken lock, the old man’s expression turned pale. Hastening its pace with surprising agility, it rushed over and called into the space beneath the bed, “Bro?”
The bed-bottom brother gave no response.
It then hurried over to check the wardrobe. This time, no calls were needed—it could already see the human-skin ghost robe hanging inside, sliced into eighteen pieces on the coat hangers.
“Human-skin bro, what a tragic end you suffered—”
Before it could finish its mournful lament, the television in the room suddenly turned on by itself. On the screen was still that same well. The woman in white from before scrambled out on all fours at breakneck speed, charging toward the screen with a ghastly, contorted expression, as if a terrifying ghost were chasing her from behind.
Yet, no matter how fast she scrambled, she didn’t manage to break free from the screen before the television went black again.
The old man watched helplessly as a crack split straight down the middle of the TV screen with a sharp snap.
The crack grew wider and deeper, sending sparks and electric arcs flying everywhere, while a thick black liquid oozed from inside the casing.
In the end, the entire television split right down the middle.
And the old man’s composure shattered right along with it.
‘Holy crap.’
‘Didn’t that murderer leave his blade behind?’
‘How is he still this ruthless?’
It turned around. The light from the living room seeped in through the crack of the door. Outside, the living room was dead silent, yet the old man felt as though an utterly terrifying monster was lurking out there, waiting to devour ghosts whole.
It quickly ran over to close and lock the door. Still feeling uneasy, it rushed into the bathroom and locked a second door behind it.
Inside the bathroom, the mirror was already shattered. Clearly, the spirit lurking within had died with its eyes open, having carved a line of blood-red text onto the glass before its demise:
Mercy, Great Demon King! I’ll never be a ghost again!
Tragic.
Utterly tragic.
Surveying the gruesome scene, the old man realized that two locked doors were far from safe. It had better run, and run fast.
No sooner said than done.
But while fleeing, it also had to confuse the Great Demon King’s senses. It absolutely could not let the Great Demon King realize it had run off—otherwise, if he chased after it, it would still be doomed.
In a flurry, it turned to the broken mirror to fix its appearance.
As it kneaded its face with both hands, the old man’s heavily wrinkled face gradually transformed into a smooth egg shape, before features were remolded into those of a cute, black-haired young boy. The old man’s body, however, remained unchanged.
Gritting its teeth, it picked up its beloved heavy axe and chopped down on its own neck several times, severing its own head completely.
It intended to throw its head out first while leaving its body behind for the Great Demon King to mangle.
It named this maneuver “Operation Split-Up.”
‘Genius.’
‘I am an absolute genius, HAHAHAHAHAHA!’
‘Worthy of being a level boss—so different from those three little minions who get wiped out right at the very start!’
Holding its head high with one hand, it pulled open the bathroom window curtain with the other.
Then, it froze.
The Great Demon King’s face was right behind the window.
Drenched in the rain, with raven-black hair and a pale face, there was no telling how long he had been standing there. Right now, he was looking at it and its severed head, offering a warm, caring smile.
“It’s so late, Grandpa. Where else are you planning to go?”
The severed head let out a blood-curdling shriek.
“GHOSTTTTTTTT—!”
…
…
A crack of thunder split the night sky.
Lin Qingchi stepped out from the house at a measured pace.
He still held the black umbrella in his right hand, and in his left hand rested that pitch-black, blood-dripping blade.
As he departed, green flames suddenly erupted from the haunted house behind him.
Under the pouring rain, the fire burned hotter and fiercer, blazing wildly like a lotus blooming in the dark of night.
[Congratulations, Player, on successfully clearing the Nightmare-difficulty instance “Former Residence”. Final Clear Rating: SSS.]
[Congratulations! You have obtained 100 Clear Points. Current Clear Points: 1,000,100 / 10,000. Current Player Ranking: #1.]
[The player’s current points far exceed the required amount to clear the game and return to reality. Would you like to return to reality immediately? (Currently, a total of 10,000 dungeon bosses strongly urge you to return to reality in a joint petition.)]
[YES / NO]