◎ The Dungeon Barrier Appears ◎
The meeting went on for a long time. At first, only four people were involved, but more and more participants gradually joined.
This included the teammates of Cui He and Dong Shengfeng, as well as elite individuals selected from across the country who were about to replace the players.
When the fifth person entered, Jiang Qi put on her player mask again, transforming into an unremarkable appearance, which made Cui He and the others pause in surprise.
She sat quietly to the side, as if she were just another special operative, speaking very little afterward, mostly keeping her head down to review documents and match the data to the people.
Almost all of these elites came from the military. Some were active service members, exuding a strong military aura; some had retired years ago and were experienced, like seasoned veterans; and some specialized in undercover work, making it easy to convincingly play a player.
Besides them, representatives of the entire logistics team—responsible for monitoring, filtering, and profiling players’ personalities and psychology—also joined the meeting.
Compared with the large meeting the day before, everyone attending today was a classified member, and the topics discussed were the most confidential and core matters.
As the number of participants kept increasing, the conference room had to be changed to larger ones, and the plans became more detailed.
Jiang Qi spent nearly the whole day in the meeting room. Zhang Zhengtian did suggest she take a rest, but she refused.
Even though she didn’t need to provide additional clues, the matter was critical. For her own sake, she needed to understand these people’s plans and actions.
By evening, the meeting ended. Almost everyone was assigned to a location in Spring City to live disguised as locals.
Zhang Zhengtian called Jiang Qi. “Xiao Jiang, do you want to go back to your home tomorrow?”
“If possible, that would be best. I also want to interact with the players up close.”
Jiang Qi lived in an older residential complex with loose property management and low rent. As a result, the residents were mixed, there was almost no visible surveillance, but large supermarkets were nearby, and transportation was convenient.
Many players, when first entering the dungeon, were extremely poor and would prioritize such places.
In her previous life, this complex attracted a large number of players and ended up almost like a player stronghold.
The player whose identity she had taken in her previous life had rented a place next to her apartment.
Now, this complex and similar locations had been perfectly set up by the authorities, with many of their own people arranged there, waiting for players to move in.
Zhang Zhengtian said, “For your safety, it’s naturally best to stay at the command center. But if you really want to go back, it’s not impossible. The condition is that you agree to one thing.”
“What thing?”
Dong Shengfeng walked over, carrying a bag in one hand and with the other in her pocket. “If you go back, you have to be my roommate. I will stay close and protect you.”
Cui He followed two steps behind, silently standing nearby.
Jiang Qi glanced at Cui He first, then looked at Dong Shengfeng. Although a woman, she was at least 1.72 meters tall, with short hair and strikingly neutral, handsome features. With the right clothing and styling, one could easily mistake her for a man at first glance.
Jiang Qi seemed to understand something, showing slight surprise.
Seeing that she understood, Dong Shengfeng smiled approvingly. “Not only will we be roommates for a month, but once we board the train, I’ll also protect you closely and help pass messages if needed. So, we need a reasonable relationship—pretend to be best friends, or lovers? You choose.”
Jiang Qi: “…Lovers…”
Dong Shengfeng tilted her head slightly. “You could also choose Cui He, pretending to be siblings, lovers, or even a married couple.”
Jiang Qi: “…No need for that.”
To play the players convincingly, the meeting had confirmed that each replacement should match a player as closely as possible in height, build, and appearance.
That meant a male could not convincingly pretend to be a female player, nor a female to a male player—it would be too easy to slip up.
In other words, whoever Jiang Qi chose, she would follow the same scenario with that person and keep playing it out.
She scratched her head, “Then I’ll go with you. Let’s be… best friends, close confidantes.”
As if he had known she would choose this, Cui He nodded. “Then I will leave first. See you tomorrow.”
Dong Shengfeng waved at him, smiling as she put an arm around Jiang Qi’s shoulders. “Alright. We can adjust the specific persona later. For tonight, let’s start building some best-friend chemistry.”
How would they do that?
Jiang Qi soon found out.
That night, she was assigned to share a dorm room with Dong Shengfeng.
That was fine.
Having lived in school dorms before, she had no problem with sharing a room with someone else.
Jiang Qi thought this way, but after lights out, lying in bed, she could clearly hear another person breathing nearby, which made her uneasy.
Momentarily, she felt as if she had returned to that crowded, chaotic train carriage, with the clattering sound of the train speeding along and the air filled with all sorts of foul smells.
In the dim shadows, countless people whispered among themselves, their heavy, ragged breaths rising and falling. Eyes filled with malice and scrutiny came from all directions.
An old man wearing a train conductor’s uniform stepped toward her, grinning as he grabbed her roughly. “Ah, so it’s you, the ticketless little rat!”
He yanked open the train door and threw Jiang Qi out.
Her body—she couldn’t move!
Jiang Qi’s eyes widened. No, she couldn’t die. She didn’t want to die!
But she still fell into the canyon. The green train rapidly disappeared from her view, leaving only the whistling of the wind in her ears…
“Jiang Qi!” A figure leapt from the train like a shooting star, rushing toward her, a thin hand straining to reach her…
…
“Jiang Qi! Jiang Qi!”
A woman’s voice called in her ear, someone lightly pushing her shoulder.
Jiang Qi jolted awake. Her body reacted a step faster than her mind, delivering a hand chop straight toward the other’s throat.
Dong Shengfeng quickly raised her hands to block it. The sharp sting on her hand snapped Jiang Qi fully awake.
She opened her eyes and saw Dong Shengfeng by the bed.
She looked surprised. “Nightmare? My throat almost got smashed just now. I didn’t realize your reactions were so fast and your strength so great.”
Jiang Qi stared blankly at her, instinctively wiping her forehead, which was wet with…
Sweat.
She gazed at her damp hand, sat up slowly, and breathed heavily.
In the dream, when she was thrown from the train, who was the person that jumped out to save her? Why did she have no memory of them?
In her previous life, she had only spent a little over ten days on the train. Including three other “dungeons,” it had only been a few months in total. She remembered always acting alone, never interacting with anyone, afraid her identity would be exposed.
She shouldn’t have known anyone, yet that person had called out her real name and even jumped out of the train to save her.
Should she have known such a person?
Jiang Qi held her forehead. She seemed to have forgotten something important.
Dong Shengfeng frowned. “You don’t seem quite right. Should we call a doctor?”
Jiang Qi said softly, “No, it’s just a dream… about some bad things.”
Her legs felt unsteady as she got out of bed and went to the bathroom to wash her face. The icy water calmed her racing emotions.
She looked at her reflection—her face, untouched by the survival game, still carried a youthful innocence, even appearing naive. But her eyes now were filled with anxiety and fear.
She pressed her temples.
Was the memory in the dream real? If she had truly forgotten something, could she trust her current memory?
She closed her eyes and mentally retraced her past life. Everything felt so real—there shouldn’t be any mistakes.
…
Three minutes later, Jiang Qi emerged from the bathroom, her emotions under control.
Dong Shengfeng glanced at her. “Feeling better?”
“I’m fine.”
“Now I believe it—you really did go through those survival games.”
Jiang Qi asked, “So you suspected I was lying before?”
Dong Shengfeng shook her head. “You acted too composed. An ordinary person, pulled into hell for months, comes back without crying, throwing tantrums, venting, or complaining… It’s like hearing a story about someone else. It didn’t feel real. Now you seem normal.”
Jiang Qi gave a bitter smile. After going back and forth between life and death so many times, even someone who’s normally sensitive and prone to complaining would have become unbreakable.
“It’s still early. Let’s eat something first.”
…
After breakfast, with still some time before eight o’clock, Jiang Qi followed Dong Shengfeng for training. Her physical condition was still too weak; she was a fragile, flabby mess, gasping after just a few moves.
Dong Shengfeng looked surprised. “That shouldn’t be. When you woke up just now, your strike had some serious power.”
Jiang Qi wiped her sweat. “Maybe it was just a surge of adrenaline.”
Dong Shengfeng still didn’t believe it. “In your ‘previous life,’ you weren’t really skilled?”
Jiang Qi shook her head. “I muddled through for a few months. At best, I could swing a stick or two. I survived purely by luck and by keeping my head down.”
Dong Shengfeng looked her over, then patted her on the shoulder. “It is fine. Train with me. I guarantee I will turn you into a real expert.”
“Thanks.”
At 7:30, Zhang Zhengtian notified them to go to the control room.
The core leaders of the command were all there, eyes glued to the surveillance screens. The atmosphere was tense and heavy.
Jiang Qi looked at the screens—these monitored all entry and exit points in Spring City.
Although it was still half an hour before eight, all roads in and out of Spring City had been secretly sealed. The few vehicles moving around, their license plates from various regions, were all official vehicles driven by veteran drivers.
Even the people at toll stations, gas stations, and service areas were carefully assigned personnel, ready to respond to any emergencies.
A few roads were deliberately made to have accidents, making them impassable in a way that seemed reasonable.
As for the villages stuck at the borders of Spring City, they had long been cleared for various “justifiable” reasons.
Zhang Zhengtian looked at Jiang Qi. “The truth will reveal itself at this moment, Comrade Jiang Qi. If you’ve deceived the country…”
Jiang Qi met his gaze. “I also hope all of this is false, that the disaster won’t happen.”
If the dungeon didn’t descend, she would face a prison sentence, but she trusted her memory.
Even though it seemed she had forgotten something very important.
…
7:40 a.m.
On the highways entering and leaving Spring City, vehicles were moving as usual. On a truck, the driver observed the roadside while speaking into his headset: “Everything is normal at the moment.”
At the highway toll station, employees wearing standard smiles handed cards to drivers, watching the vehicles pass, then welcomed the next one. Taking a moment, they reported via the hidden microphone on their collar: “No anomalies detected at present.”
In the emergency lane, a car had broken down. The owner made frantic phone calls, appearing anxious and helpless, but was actually reporting to the other end: “Everything is normal.”
At Spring City Airport, one runway was under repair, while on the other, a plane experienced a minor malfunction during takeoff and had to stop on the runway.
The airport had only two runways, causing all subsequent flights to be delayed, much to the passengers’ complaints.
The airport director, standing in the control tower, watched the planes outside and then glanced at the slowly ticking electronic clock, the tension in his lips betraying his unease.
7:50 a.m.
The runway was finally cleared. A plane slowly taxied, gradually accelerated, and took off.
The airport director watched the plane, knowing that it was actually an unmanned cargo plane, completely empty inside.
Because it was said that around 8:00 a.m., if no planes took off or landed, it would appear abnormal.
So they arranged for some drones to take off and land— state-of-the-art unmanned aircraft worth hundreds of millions each, now used only for show.
7:55 a.m.
All land and shipping routes into and out of Spring City entered a heightened alert state, with all “performers” being elite military and police personnel.
Command Center.
Time crept closer to 8:00 a.m., and the tension grew.
Jiang Qi stared intently at the monitoring screens.
In truth, she wasn’t entirely sure what would happen at 8:00.
In her previous life, she would have just woken up, heading to work, scrolling her phone when she realized she couldn’t access any videos outside Spring City. She thought it was a network issue.
By the time she reached the office, she vaguely heard that a series of traffic accidents had occurred on the highway.
Later, she heard news of a plane crash—a plane taking off from Spring City had inexplicably disintegrated midair.
Watching the videos, it looked as if the plane had collided with something.
Later, she realized it had actually hit the dungeon barrier.
Her memory of that day was chaotic: all sorts of bizarre news, limited internet, unable to call outside Spring City, the boss frustrated over unreachable clients, then in the afternoon, snowflakes suddenly began falling—a first for Spring City.
The following days brought a sudden drop in temperature, catching everyone off guard. People scrambled to buy winter clothes, blankets, and food.
Only then did news of Spring City being trapped by strange energy spread widely. Many people, disbelieving, tried to drive out, only to be blocked.
All roads leading out of Spring City, big and small, were packed with vehicles, stuck fast. With temperatures plunging, many froze to death inside their cars.
Afterward, people continued dying daily—from illness, starvation, freezing, panic-induced suicide, and more often, murder.
At first, Jiang Qi had heard about deaths here and there and found it horrifying, thinking only that people were fighting over supplies. Later, she realized it was the players causing the chaos.
She clasped her hands, fingertips digging into her palms, eyes lowered to the ground.
Suddenly, a shout rang out: “What’s happening?!”
She looked up. All screens froze, then blurred as if covered with layers of snowflakes.
The process lasted more than ten seconds, and no technical staff could fix it.
Jiang Qi checked her phone, which showed no signal.
Ten seconds later, the phone signal returned, and the monitoring footage resumed, revealing horrifying scenes.
On the highway, a small truck collided with an invisible barrier; the front crumpled, and the vehicle violently flipped.
In the sky above the airport, a black unmanned cargo plane hit an unseen obstacle. Due to its speed, the plane instantly disintegrated and exploded.
A river at the border between Spring City and the neighboring city suddenly sank as if an invisible blade had carved a trench, pulling nearby boats violently against an invisible barrier.
The people in the command center watched in horror.
The barrier! This is the dungeon barrier!
The dungeon has descended!
…
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