The Players present were dumbstruck. The Female Instructor’s actions were downright brutal.
Most of the Players went into the meditation room of their own accord, to avoid drawing the Female Instructor’s attention and suffering the same fate as Xiang Lu.
Once they entered the meditation room, the stench grew even stronger. Unlike the smell of the cheap paint brushed onto the school walls, this was the odor of decay mixed with fermenting excrement.
“Ugh—”
Tan Tai couldn’t hold it in and began dry-heaving on the spot.
Seeing this, the Female Instructor gave a cold laugh. “If he throws up, tonight will be even harder for all of you.”
In an instant, every Player’s gaze turned toward Tan Tai.
Someone warned him, “Shut your mouth already! Don’t make us suffer along with you!”
Someone else chimed in, “If you dare throw up, we’ll make you eat it back up.”
Just imagine how disgusting that would be.
Tan Tai clenched his teeth and swallowed down all the vomit that had risen to his throat.
Almost all the Players had entered the meditation room. Only Jin Kangtai remained standing at the door, taking his time about going in.
He boldly approached one of the Female Instructors and whispered something in her ear.
The Female Instructor smiled faintly. “All right. Come with me.”
Sun Sui, a Male Player inside the meditation room, couldn’t sit still any longer and demanded, “Why doesn’t he have to be locked in the meditation room?”
“What did he say to you? Whatever he can do, I can do too!”
The Female Instructor looked him up and down, her gaze full of disdain.
She didn’t say a word. Without hesitation, she closed the meditation room door.
At once, the world sank into darkness. The only light came through the small transparent window in the door, casting a tiny patch of brightness.
The footsteps outside faded away, and Sun Sui’s complaining voice rang out again. “What kind of lousy Instance is this? If we run into an Anomaly now, we’re dead for sure.”
“I wonder what trick Jin Kangtai used. We agreed to form a team, but he went and kept it to himself.”
“I wouldn’t dare keep forming a team with someone like Jin Kangtai. Otherwise, we might not even know how we died.”
That last remark resonated with most of the Players, who all voiced their agreement.
The word “Anomaly” drifted into Hua Huai’s ears.
The third of the Horror Game Rules on that blood-red screen had also mentioned Anomalies.
It said that Players could bind with one of those cards.
But what exactly was an Anomaly?
She parted her lips. “Um… what’s an Anomaly?”
From the childish voice, everyone immediately knew who had spoken.
Sun Sui said, “You really are a newbie Player who’s never been through an Instance before. Well, since we’ve got nothing else to do, I might as well tell you.”
“Anomalies are ghosts.”
“There are many kinds of ghosts, some strong and some weak, but without exception, Players can’t stand against them.”
“Still, ghosts don’t kill just anyone. They have their own killing rules. As long as Players don’t break those rules, the ghosts won’t target them.”
“Different Instance Levels have different numbers of Anomalies, different levels of power, and different killing rules.”
“It’s probably a waste to tell you all this, but I still have to say: you’re really unlucky. Your very first Instance is Level C. There’s almost no chance you’ll survive.”
Listening to Sun Sui’s explanation, Hua Huai felt deeply unsettled.
A Level C Instance sounded incredibly difficult.
She had barely managed to survive the ferocious dog, only to die in an Instance after all?
She was so unwilling to accept it…
Inside the meditation room, everyone’s vision was obstructed. There was nothing to entertain them, and time seemed to drag on endlessly.
Rustling sounds came from all around them. They couldn’t tell whether it was insects or mice.
Sitting still only made them feel more unsettled.
Quite a few people got up and moved around the room.
Suddenly, something metallic clanged.
It sounded as if something had been knocked over, and a faint trickling of water reached everyone’s ears.
Sun Sui asked, “What happened? Did you kick something?”
The Player who had kicked the object crouched down and felt around on the floor.
For some reason, the stench grew even stronger.
That Player felt something soft, wet, and slightly wriggling.
“W-what is this?”
Goosebumps covered his body. Just as he was about to imagine all sorts of horrifying, bloody scenes, Xiang Lu interrupted him.
“Who knocked over the chamber pot? It stinks!”
“...”
So it was just a chamber pot.
The Player breathed a sigh of relief, then frantically shook his hand.
Those wriggling things were probably maggots.
After seeing what had happened to that Player, the others didn’t dare keep feeling around in the dark, afraid they might touch something they shouldn’t and accidentally violate an Anomaly’s Taboo.
Only Hua Huai decided to throw caution to the wind. Sun Sui had said she was doomed anyway.
Feeling her way along the wall, she discovered that its surface was uneven. It didn’t feel like paint or plaster that had naturally peeled away.
Some of the grooves were deep, as if made by scraping with a sharp object.
They weren’t ordinary scratches. They were words carved in a pattern!
'I can’t escape. They caught me and brought me back. I might die here. I wonder if Dad and Mom will regret sending me here.'
'This place is Hell. Those Instructors are demons, along with the students who have become their accomplices.'
'If only someone could tear down this school. Then I could survive.'
Unable to see and forced to feel her way along, Hua Huai took a long time to make out all the words.
Suddenly, in the stillness, she heard a boy crying softly beside her.
“I want to go home. I’ll never play the Game again.”
His voice sounded aggrieved, but the meaning of his words sent chills down every Player’s spine.
When had he entered the meditation room?
Why hadn’t he made a sound before?
Or was he an Anomaly?
Anomalies weren’t affected by physical barriers and could pass freely through locked rooms.
All the Players kept their mouths shut and slowed their breathing, trying to make themselves as inconspicuous as possible.
Hua Huai, however, was completely different from them. Perhaps she was simply too young to know fear.
She went over to the boy and crouched against the wall beside him. Tears came at once, and she sounded even more aggrieved than he did. “What’s so great about home? My parents wish they’d never given birth to me.”
“I might as well just die here!”
As soon as she finished speaking, she burst into loud, bawling sobs.
The boy stopped crying. The silence was terrifying.
But Hua Huai only cried louder and louder, muttering, “I didn’t steal my younger brother’s pencil case, but Dad and Mom don’t believe me.”
“Why would my younger brother frame me? Maybe he didn’t frame me, but even if he lost it by accident, he shouldn’t assume I stole it. I’m his own older sister. Why would he treat me like this?”
Hua Huai instinctively wanted to defend her family. She didn’t dare assume the worst of them.
She was afraid she might be all alone in this world.
That her family weren’t really her family.
Then what was the meaning of her existence?
She hoped that her existence meant something…