Pen Spirit 8
Old Lei widened his eyes, genuinely puzzled. “You can play it like this too?”
“You can give it a try. Anyway, things can’t get any worse,” Ying Yan said.
After speaking, her gaze fell on the sheets of paper spread across the table, and she wanted to pocket them.
But judging by the pen’s behavior, the paper would likely be taken over by the pen spirit soon anyway.
Normally it wasn’t an issue, but a sneak attack at a critical moment would be disastrous.
Old Lei considered Ying Yan’s suggestion and found it feasible. He said, “Can I borrow a pen? I want to try it.”
He had assumed that Xiao Chen would bring a pen, so he didn’t bother to bring one himself—trying to be convenient.
Unexpectedly, the pen he brought had been taken by the pen spirit!
Ying Yan pulled a pen from her pocket and tossed it to Old Lei.
She had brought three pens and four or five spare thick refills, not understanding his predicament. “Here, keep it. No need to return it.”
“Oh, do you still need paper? I have some here too.”
She hadn’t brought large sheets but opted for small pocket notebooks, about a hundred sheets each. She had prepared four in total, stored in different pockets.
Old Lei caught the pen, shook his head, and said, “Thanks, little sister. I’ve got backup paper anyway.”
Xiao Chen ran over quickly, “Old Lei, let me do it. You only became like this because you tried to save me.”
She snatched the pen from Old Lei’s hand and quickly performed the pen spirit summoning ritual.
“Pen Spirit, please tell me, how can the straw transformation spell be undone?”
The pen tip trembled before reluctantly writing on the paper:
To undo the straw transformation spell, take one spoon of rose, two spoons of chrysanthemum, three spoons of pear blossom, half a spoon of hyacinth, and simmer with half a liter of water.Please carefully distinguish the flowers, do not let cherry blossom mix in—it’s an anomaly! It’s an anomaly!!
Xiao Chen returned the pen to Old Lei and looked at Ying Yan. “Prophet, do you know where we can find these flowers?”
Ying Yan explained the locations in detail and added, “The garden doesn’t feel safe. Before you go, ask the pen spirit about the rules there. Be cautious!”
Xiao Chen nodded firmly. The garden would surely be dangerous, but this was the only hope of restoring Old Lei to normal.
Whether she lived or not, her conscience wouldn’t allow her to sit idly by.
Old Lei looked anxious, seemingly debating how to persuade Xiao Chen not to go. He would go himself for sure, but the young girl—it was better if she didn’t take the risk.
Ying Yan didn’t interfere; she had already done her part. The next priority was to find the crucial clue for the new round.
Although there were no hints, the next round had already begun.
A corner of the collapsed thatched hut fell into a dim starry river.
The night was deep, molten red lava simmering, stars streaking through with long, shining tails.
Ying Yan tilted her head, watching, a foreboding sense pricking her chest.
They were certainly no longer on the playground; where they were exactly would only be revealed once she pushed the door.
After a moment’s thought, she reached out and pushed the door.
This time, it opened easily, revealing the outside.
Outside was a cement building, the surroundings and floor all cement, but the roof had vanished, exposing a strange night sky.
About five meters away was a thick, snow-white line.
Further in, there was a large, multicolored slide—straight slides, slanted slides, and wave slides.
Also, the small S and big S seen the first time, ending with three sections of tube slides.
On the surface, the slide seemed safe and harmless, if a bit childish.
For the first time, Ying Yan doubted her previous assumption that “the pen spirit is a primary schooler.”
She looked at the slides, frowning; the behavior of the pen spirit seemed more like a kindergarten child—innocent yet mischievous.
Others in the thatched hut, seeing the scene outside, displayed surprise, temporarily pausing their thoughts.
Ying Yan hesitated a minute, then took out paper and pen to summon the pen spirit.
She quickly recited, “…past life… present life…” and asked:
“Please explain the slide game rules in detail, clearly, without using nursery rhymes, stories, or other ambiguous content.”
After a while, a few lines appeared on the paper:
You’ve got hair-bing, right?!I am the almighty great Pen Spirit, not a student writing essays!!!
The tone revealed the pen spirit’s anger and frustration at the restricted topic.
Ying Yan paused at “almighty” and retorted, “Almighty, but writing in pinyin?”
She didn’t think much of it, but the pen spirit became annoyed.
It manifested in the black pen spinning frantically, rolling, drawing countless meaningless lines.
Ying Yan touched it lightly; the pen stiffened, standing defensively.
Goodness, it scared the child!
After at least fifteen minutes, the pen began to move properly, writing steadily:
Slide Game Rules Summary:
This time, from start to finish, there was no pinyin, and the handwriting had changed significantly.
Ying Yan read for a moment, then heard someone call her nickname.
She looked up; it was the short-haired girl codenamed “Apple.”
Apple blinked, trying to signal friendliness.
“Prophet, did you get any clues?”
Apple’s own skills were mediocre; her survival relied on strong allies. She had come with friends, planning mutual support.
But during “One-Two-Three Wooden Man,” her friend encountered danger and cried for help—she froze, unable to help.
Although her friend forgave her, she sensed a rift in their friendship.
In reality, it might mean just unfriending; here, it was dangerous.
She urgently wanted a capable protector.
Looking around, the patient Ying Yan became her target.
Ying Yan noticed Apple’s small strategy but didn’t point it out.
Frowning, she said, “Yes, I got a clue, but I’m not sure how much is accurate.”
Apple nodded. “Can you show the paper to everyone for collective input?”
Ying Yan casually nodded, tore off the “Slide Game Rules Summary,” and handed it to the nearest floating player.
Floating player noticed something odd but didn’t comment, passing it to the next person.
When only two or three people hadn’t seen it, one of the twin boys grabbed the paper and suddenly ran outside, crossing the white line.
Then he turned back, showing a provocative, triumphant smile to Ying Yan.
“Sis, thanks for the clue. First place this round is mine!”
“To show my gratitude, I’ll teach you something: randomly showing kindness is a foolish act.”
The change happened too fast; no one could stop him.
Floating Player, Xiao Chen, and Apple looked furious; Old Lei swore: “You reckless idiot! No sense of fairness!”
The boy remained calm, saying nothing about his actions.
Old Lei glanced at Ying Yan, frustrated: “Look at you! So soft-hearted! People just walked all over you, and you let it happen!”
Ying Yan detected the concern in his tone, wasn’t angry, and explained:
“It’s fine. If he wants to test himself, let him. Survive and get first—his achievement.”
“As for clues, if someone volunteers, fine. If not, a little coercion is okay—they’ll end up back at the hut anyway.”
She wasn’t addicted to winning; securing first place was only to reduce others’ risks.
Since the pen spirit selects randomly, the first clue affected everyone’s interest. If someone refused to share, public anger could erupt.
Her words were met with surprised looks.
She looked around, puzzled. “What’s wrong?”
White Rose voiced everyone’s thoughts: “Nothing, just… you seem soft, but your hand is firm!”
Ying Yan smiled gently:
“My principle is to let as many people survive as possible. But if someone obstructs that, they’ll have to suffer a bit.”
She provided hard-earned clues but wasn’t blindly kind.
If someone’s foolishness jeopardized the bigger picture, they had to wait underground first.
Ignoring others’ reactions, Ying Yan stepped forward, leaving the hut, standing by the white line.
Holding paper and pen, she observed those who volunteered as test subjects.
The twin who went first, Laifu, now stepped onto the slide.
His normal hand clutched the paper, a confident smile on his face.
The rules were simple; if followed, nothing should go wrong.
First place was his to claim!
Laifu sat at the slide’s start, chose his favorite flute, and pushed off. Gravity carried him down the straight slide.
Sometimes, people are overconfident, thinking everything is simple—especially slides that look harmless and childish.
Watching the boy disappear into the slide entrance, Ying Yan frowned, sensing subtle foreboding.
She calmed herself, focusing on figuring out how to break the game.