This was a village that looked as though it dated back around the time of the Yu Xi Dynasty. There were no paved concrete roads, nor even stone-flagged paths; right beneath their feet was raw, uncompacted loses soil. Walking across it kicked up clouds of dust, and the surrounding area was dominated by parasol trees alongside a few osmanthus trees. The parasol leaves were already half-withered, and peanuts were planted in the fields.
It was autumn in a southern village.
Xian Chengyue looked back out at the fields. A large portion of them had already fallen into neglect and were barren, with no crops planted, yet no wild weeds grew there either. It was evident that the villagers were in the process of reclaiming the land for re-cultivation. There were no farming tools in the fields, but there was a well at the entrance of the village. However, there were no traces of people walking around its perimeter, nor any water stains.
He lowered his gaze to glance at his wristwatch; the time was frozen at 5:24:31 PM, the second hand no longer ticking.
The old village chief walked at the very front. The veterans followed closely behind him, and no matter how terrified the newbies were, they could only follow the pace set by the veterans. The scene where the middle-aged man had died just moments earlier felt like something straight out of an absurd, low-budget horror film, yet it was still enough to wet a few people’s pants. Completely out of their wits and devoid of any capacity to think, the helpless newbies could only instinctively follow the rest of the group.
“Xian-ge.” A young, baby-faced man sidled up close to Xian Chengyue. His eyes were large, and the corners of his mouth naturally curved upward, giving him an inherently non-threatening appearance. Realizing that Xian Chengyue neither acknowledged him nor even looked his way, he was not discouraged at all; instead, he smiled and said, “I’m Chen Wei, Chen Shuo’s younger brother.”
It wasn’t until he heard that familiar name that Xian Chengyue finally glanced at Chen Wei.
Chen Wei: “My brother said that if I ran into you, I should drop his name.”
Just as Chen Wei wore a smile while feeling immensely nervous and apprehensive inside, Xian Chengyue nodded: “Stick with me.”
Chen Wei let out a sigh of relief and hurriedly said, “My brother told me all about it. Don’t worry, Xian-ge, I definitely won’t get in your way.”
Chen Wei comfortably settled into his role as Xian Chengyue’s little tail. As long as Xian Chengyue didn’t speak, he practiced a strict vow of silence.
The old village chief led them right up to the courtyard gate of a house at the village entrance.
“You are not allowed to light lamps at night, you are not allowed to speak, there must be no water inside the rooms, and you are not allowed to step outside.”
The old village chief turned his head back. Although dusk had not yet fallen and the sunlight was still quite bright, the old village chief’s face was completely expressionless. His drooping eyelids almost blocked out half of his eyes, making his gaze look incomparably sinister.
“Remember my words.” The old village chief used a key to unlock the wooden courtyard gate.
“Pretty scary, huh?” Su Yan extended his arm, offering a piece of chewing gum toward Xian Chengyue.
Along the way, Su Yan had witnessed with his own eyes how all the veterans had returned home empty-handed in the face of Xian Chengyue. When Xian Chengyue didn’t want to bother with people, he acted like a coldly arrogant deaf-and-blind man; even if someone crowded right up to his face, he would simply treat them as air.
Su Yan added a final phrase: “My name is Su Yan.”
Xian Chengyue didn’t take it, didn’t even spare him a single glance, and stepped directly across the threshold.
Su Yan raised an eyebrow, retracted the chewing gum, shoved both hands into his pockets, and followed them into the courtyard gate.
Inside, the old village chief was in the midst of assigning rooms, muttering under his breath: “Twenty-four, twenty-four…”
Then, he strode over aggressively, grabbing people out of the crowd like they were mere chicks.
The moment the boy whose arm he grabbed was seized, he abruptly burst into a piercing shriek: “Don’t grab me! Don’t grab me!! I want to go home, Mom… Mom!”
The people standing nearby didn’t dare to intervene, shrinking inward instead, yet no one dared to run unless someone else made a break for it first.
The boy’s resistance was like a mayfly trying to shake a tree as far as the old village chief was concerned. The old village chief’s arms, looking like withered tree branches, possessed an irresistible, overwhelming strength. With a single tug and pull, the boy was flung sprawling onto the dirt ground to the side, taking a face full of dust and even suffering a bloody nose from the fall.
Before the boy could scramble back up to run, the old village chief dragged out another person.
He seemed to pull whomever he pleased, picking men, women, and children purely on a whim. After dragging out a full six people, he finally lifted his brows, pointed toward a room nearby, and said: “You guys live there.”
The death of the middle-aged man had left one of the four groups split apart by the old village chief with only five members remaining.
The people who had been dragged out, who moments before had been too terrified and tense to either speak or run finally dared to softly sob.
Everyone else felt a sense of safety as well.
As long as people weren’t being dragged out to be fed to their deaths, it was still within the limits of tolerance.
Su Yan handed the unsold, lingering piece of chewing gum he had just failed to give away to Zhao Feng, who was standing on his left.
Zhao Feng unhesitatingly tore open the packaging and shoved it straight into his mouth.
Instead of immediately entering their assigned rooms, the people all stood inside the courtyard. Some hugged themselves and shivered, while others muttered back and forth, unsure of what they were even saying.
Right at that moment, someone suddenly stepped up onto the courtyard’s packed-earth steps and shouted loudly: “Everyone, don’t panic! When you first arrive somewhere, it’s best not to act on your own accord. Once we figure out the environment, we can figure out our next steps. How many of you are here for the very first time?”
Quite a few people raised their hands.
The man introduced himself: “My name is Jiang Zhongxu. I got here earlier than you all, and I’ve cleared seven or eight trials. If there’s anything you don’t understand, come ask me. Right now, it’s just us here, so we have to stick together. Otherwise, if danger strikes, there isn’t much difference between being alone or in a small group.”
“You guys shouldn’t be too scared either; when there are a lot of newbies, the difficulty drops and the danger isn’t that high. Besides, with so many people around us all sticking together, a hundred percent of the danger gets split among everyone, so it’s not that much for any single person.”
The crowd quickly swarmed around Jiang Zhongxu.
Only a handful of veterans who hadn’t raised their hands and a few seemingly calmer newbies stayed behind.
Su Yan was among those calm newbies, his gaze fixed squarely on Xian Chengyue—the one who had turned his chewing gum into unsold stock.
Xian Chengyue wore a pair of black gloves on his hands, seemingly made of synthetic fiber rather than leather, and they looked very thin.
The brand of his suit wasn’t recognizable, but judging by the fabric, it certainly wasn’t cheap.
It was probably custom-made by an old tailor.
None of his attire bore a visible brand logo, yet none of it looked cheap either. Su Yan couldn’t tell what Xian Chengyue did for a living in the real world.
This only made Xian Chengyue appear even more mysterious.
Xian Chengyue glanced up at the sky. The sunlight was beginning to turn a hazy yellow, the distant mountains and clouds almost shifting to an orange-red. The birdsong suddenly grew louder, and a flock of crows flew overhead, emitting hoarse cries.
“It’s getting dark,” Xian Chengyue said abruptly.
Chen Wei pressed closely behind Xian Chengyue, not missing a single step, and asked, “Xian-ge, are we going in?”
Xian Chengyue stepped up onto the packed-earth steps and walked straight into the room the old village chief had assigned to their group of six.
Zhao Feng, standing beside Su Yan, gave Su Yan a nudge with his elbow and hurried after Xian Chengyue.
Chen Wei quietly sidled up next to Zhao Feng, trying to edge him out, but Zhao Feng seemed utterly incapable of reading the room. He shoved Chen Wei aside with one hand and grabbed hold of Xian Chengyue’s quilt.
“Xian-ge.” Zhao Feng didn’t care at all that Xian Chengyue was younger than him, shouting “Ge” with absolute fluency.
If Xian Chengyue disliked it, he’d probably start shouting “Dad,” showing far more affection than he did toward his own biological father.
Xian Chengyue still didn’t speak.
Zhao Feng raised his brows and whispered, “Xian-ge, I’m sticking with you. Wherever you tell me to go, I won’t go the other way; wherever you tell me to head, I’ll go without even blinking an eye. Let’s… team up?”
Only then did Xian Chengyue glance back at him.
Zhao Feng beamed like a sunflower, flashing Xian Chengyue a brilliant, sunny smile—though his teeth were slightly yellowed.
Xian Chengyue’s gaze was ice-cold, utterly devoid of any emotion.
Under his fixed stare, Zhao Feng suddenly shivered, breaking out in goosebumps all over.
Though speechless, Zhao Feng cursed inwardly, but still forcibly claimed the bed to the immediate left of Xian Chengyue.
The commotion outside finally died down. Jiang Zhongxu spoke with sincere warmth, acting like a mature elder: “It’s getting dark soon. Let’s head inside first, make our beds, and get some sleep. We can talk about everything else tomorrow.”
A young woman in the crowd suddenly asked, “Jiang-ge, what about what that old… old grandpa said? That we can’t go outside at night, can’t light lamps, and what else? Do we have to listen to him?”
Jiang Zhongxu smiled: “Listen for now. Just like I said earlier, let’s adapt to the environment first. It’s better to follow what the locals say than to try calling the shots right from the start.”
Inside the room, Zhao Feng let out a cold snort: “Talk about fooling newbies.”
Throwing a glance at Xian Chengyue, Zhao Feng continued: “I was in the same instance with him before, and it was just like this back then.”
Before Zhao Feng could finish spreading his gossip, the people outside walked in.
Six people were assigned to this room, making a total of four rooms in all. The moment Xian Chengyue lifted his head, he saw the first person walk through the door.
The newcomer wore a black jacket over a short-sleeved shirt. He was around 1.9 meters tall, with sword-like brows and star-bright eyes. A smile hung on his face as he walked in, looking unruly, utterly free of shyness, and exceptionally sociable.
“Handsome,” he greeted Xian Chengyue, “I’m Su Yan, the guy who tried to give you chewing gum earlier.”
Xian Chengyue glanced at him and nodded indifferently: “Xian Chengyue.”
Su Yan raised an eyebrow, a smile playing on his lips as he remarked: “Since today, how often have I missed the autumn moon, knocking on the bamboo staff at night” what a fine name.
The moment Su Yan finished those words, before Xian Chengyue could make any response, the others walked in as well.
There were six people in their room: four men and two women. They started by introducing themselves.
The men were Xian Chengyue, Su Yan, Zhao Feng, and Chen Wei.
The women were Liang Shu and Xie Youmin.
Liang Shu was quite young, sporting a cute bob haircut with a straight fringe that covered her brows. She was still wearing her school uniform, and her actions and demeanor retained the youthful spirit and innocence of a teenager. Outside, she had already managed to buddy up with the other female student.
“It’s probably just some TV program,” Liang Shu said while making her bed, “Or maybe aliens running some kind of experiment. Either way, we’ll take it one step at a time. It might not be as dangerous as we imagine didn’t Jiang-ge just say so? When there are lots of newbies, it’s safer.”
Zhao Feng chimed in leisurely: “Little sis, it’s not that simple. How do you explain the person who just died?”
Liang Shu: “Maybe they were an android, or some kind of optical illusion. Stage magic is way more absurd than this.”
“There’s no way it’s that simple!” Xie Youmin stood up, her eyes red, her voice shrill and sharp: “I heard what he said! ‘Safer’! Then what does ‘unsafe’ mean?!”
Once she finished yelling, Liang Shu fell silent, and both of them clammed up.
Liang Shu’s words had been a whitewash of false peace, and Xie Youmin had torn that whitewashed peace wide open.
“It’s getting dark.” Liang Shu looked at the final sliver of light vanishing outside, murmuring under her breath.
Xian Chengyue had already tucked himself into bed. He seemed to live in a completely different world from everyone else; lying flat on his back with his eyes closed, it was as if everything in the mortal world had ceased to have any connection to him from that moment on. Zhao Feng copied him by lying down and closing his eyes to sleep, caring not a whit about whether he could actually fall asleep or not.
Darkness seemed to make people even more uneasy.
The room was as dead quiet as if no one lived there.
The old village chief’s warning had done its job. No one dared to speak, no one dared to light a lamp, and those who had only half-made their beds didn’t dare to continue.
To Su Yan’s right was Zhao Feng; to Zhao Feng’s right was Xian Chengyue; and to Xian Chengyue’s right was Chen Wei.
The guys slept on one side, the girls slept on the other, leaving a deliberate gap in the middle just large enough for another person to lie down. The two girls hugged each other tightly, not daring to speak and not daring to cry, shutting their eyes and clinging to each other as if doing so could grant them a bit of courage.
Su Yan sat leaning against the wall. With his sharp eyesight, he used the moonlight to survey the room, then slowly shifted his gaze back to rest on Xian Chengyue’s sleeping face. The man looked as though he were truly fast asleep.
Xian Chengyue hadn’t pulled the blanket over himself, nor had he taken off his shoes, appearing as though he were ready to wake up at any second.
That night, not a single person managed to sleep soundly. Fear and an unfamiliar environment had dialed all their senses up to the maximum, and any slightest rustle was enough to jolt them awake.
Leaning against the wall, Su Yan wasn’t sleepy at all, toying idly with a coin in his hand. Outside, there was the sound of the wind, along with the cries of wild beasts in the forest. Because of the dead silence, the external sounds felt all the clearer.
Just how much time had passed just as Su Yan was preparing to close his eyes for a brief nap a blood-curdling scream shattered the terrifying stillness of the night.
“Ah—!”
Following that single miserable shriek came a rising and falling chorus of weeping cries, screams, and desperate pleas for mercy.
The chaotic sound of footsteps erupted in the courtyard, and Su Yan seemed to catch the scent of blood.
The moment the screams rang out, Xian Chengyue snapped his eyes open. The exact instant Su Yan caught the smell of blood, Xian Chengyue was already standing by the door.
The windows here were covered in paper; with no oil lamps, relying solely on moonlight was not enough to make out shadows outside, so opening the window was the only way to see anything.
Liang Shu jumped in fright and was about to open her mouth when Xie Youmin behind her suddenly reached out and clamped a hand over her mouth.
Before Liang Shu could calm down, the wooden door of the room suddenly shook violently!
Someone was kicking the door from outside!
“Open the door!! Open the door!! Save us!!” Someone was hammering on the room’s door.
The sound of pounding on the door seemed to come from all directions, drilling straight into everyone’s ears.
“Open the door!!” The wooden door shook incessantly under the blows.
“Please, I’m begging you, please…” The person outside wept and wailed in desperate entreaty.
The sounds outside gradually grew weaker, as if the person crying for help had given up on themselves, leaving only a faint voice still calling out from the outside: “Please… open the door…”
The people inside the room didn’t dare to speak. Liang Shu curled up on the bed, reaching out to cover her ears.
Zhao Feng rolled over onto his side as well, acting as though he hadn’t heard a thing.