After some discussion, they finally decided to stay in pairs.
Chen Xi and Kang Xiaojia checked into Room 1702, the portrait room.
Wang Lei and Lin Jianguo stayed in Room 1703, the safe house.
Zheng Wenxuan and Jiang Chen moved into Room 1704, the tablet room.
“Hurry up and get some rest. We have to start the second night patrol at four,” Chen Xi gave a final reminder. “Lock your doors, and no matter what you hear, don't open them.”
“Understood.”
The others entered their respective rooms and locked the doors behind them.
With a few clicks of the locks, the corridor of the seventeenth floor instantly plunged into a dead silence.
...
...
Lin Jianguo sat down on the bed. The mattress was hard as a rock.
“Did you see that? Their pockets were bulging. They probably completed some side quest just now and got some items.”
He lowered his voice, quickly adding, “And look at Room 1702 next door. Sweet soup, a family portrait... who knows what kind of trouble will start there tonight.”
“Yeah, Uncle Lin, you're the one with experience.”
Wang Lei sat shivering on his narrow bed and sniffled. “This damn place is full of ghosts, and we have to stay here for a whole month...”
Lin Jianguo didn't say anything.
The bed was very narrow, so narrow that anyone slightly larger wouldn't even be able to roll over. He squeezed himself around, pressing his back against the wall.
Feeling the item he had brought out from his last Instance in his pocket, a faint smile involuntarily appeared on Lin Jianguo's face.
Human life was truly unpredictable; you never knew what would happen until you were at death's door.
Just a few months ago, he had been in so much debt after a friend ran off with his company's funds that he wanted to hang himself.
Back then, his house and car were mortgaged, his wife had taken the kids back to her parents' home, his relatives and friends avoided him like the plague, and even his own parents refused to lend him a single cent.
During his darkest hours, he would sit in his factory and drink.
One night, drinking late into the early morning hours, it was no exaggeration to say he truly wanted to hang himself right there in the factory.
But who could have predicted the sudden turn of events? Spiritual energy recovered across the world.
He had mindlessly clicked into some livestream room, entered an Instance, awakened a Class, and even managed to bring out several items as rewards.
The day he emerged from the Instance, everything changed.
The bank that used to treat him like a deadbeat, bombarding him with debt collection calls every day, sent their branch manager to his door. The man shook his hand so warmly they might as well have been long-lost brothers.
Not only was his loan immediately extended, but they also proactively offered him an additional five million in credit.
The business owners who had cut ties with him previously called him one by one to apologize the moment they heard he had become a player.
His factory's orders were booked through the year after next, advance payments flooded in, and even the few items he possessed had multiple groups of people bidding on them.
...
Although the Special Investigation Bureau intentionally hid the players' identities, Lin Jianguo scoffed at this rule.
Now that spiritual energy had recovered, why should “new humans” like them hide? What right did anyone have to make them hide?
Players risked their lives in Instances; why shouldn't they enjoy themselves when they returned to the modern world?
Players were special.
Players with Classes deserved to be treated differently.
To put it bluntly but realistically:
Having power and money used to make you elite, but in the future, players with Classes would stand at the absolute peak of the pyramid!
—Lin Jianguo had proactively volunteered to come to Hong Kong for this support mission.
The Bureau's rules dictated that players could keep eighty percent of their Instance loot. Naturally, Lin Jianguo was highly dissatisfied with this as well.
Why should the Special Investigation Bureau take twenty percent just for helping collect Instance info, training players, coordinating resources, and offering psychological counseling?
To put it plainly, weren't they just taking the players' hard-earned goods to protect those ordinary people who did absolutely nothing?
For players like them, it was a terrible deal.
...
In short, if he could snag a couple of good items from this Instance... even if he didn't sell them for ten million, at the very least, he wouldn't have to worry about money for the rest of his life.
When that time came, he would continue to expand his factory, showing all those who had looked down on him that he, Lin Jianguo, could indeed make a comeback.
—Especially that bastard who ran off with his money—he would throw the cash right in his face just to see the look on his face.
Wealth, status, everything would be well within his grasp.
The more Lin Jianguo thought about it, the happier he became, a smile involuntarily tugging at the corners of his mouth.
The bed was pushed against the wall, and as he lay on his side facing it, his nose was almost touching the surface.
The wall felt cool, and its texture wasn't as hard as concrete. Instead... it felt slightly elastic, like human skin.
Lin Jianguo thought groggily, his breathing gradually slowing as he drifted off.
His eyes were closed, so he didn't see that less than a millimeter away, the wall was also slightly rising and falling in rhythm with his breath.
Very slowly, very gently.
Expanding and contracting, like the chest of a living creature.
The wall gradually grew softer and stickier, like melting asphalt.
First, his arm resting against the wall sank in slightly. The fabric of his sleeve stuck to the wall, slowly being sucked inside.
Then, his skin.
Lin Jianguo was fast asleep, dreaming of being a member of the elite, completely unaware that he was sinking deeper and deeper.
The skin on his arm melted first, blending into the wall without a shred of pain, as if soaking in warm water.
Next were the muscles and fat. His human flesh was slowly “filtered” by the wall, ground into a fine pulp, and absorbed into the cracks.
His bones began to soften, emitting soft creaks and groans as if being ground down along with his flesh.
Finally, he was sucked into the wall bit by bit.
Before Lin Jianguo could even react, he was “eaten.”
With a wet gulp, the wall made a swallowing sound.
Lin Jianguo had vanished completely.
A dark silhouette slowly materialized on the wall, matching Lin Jianguo's frame exactly.
His head, torso, arms, and legs were clearly defined, looking as though someone was trapped inside the wall, frozen in a side-sleeping position.
...
...
...
In Room 1702, Chen Xi was still awake.
Sitting on the bed closest to the door, she used the dim light filtering through the window to carefully examine the item she had just acquired.
The Raw Glutinous Rice Lime Pack was a paper parcel about the size of a baby's fist, wrapped in yellow paper and adorned with red patterns.
【Item: Raw Glutinous Rice Lime Pack】
【Made of glutinous rice mixed with cinnabar and lime. Sprinkled on doorways and bed edges, it can prevent minor ghosts from approaching, protecting against the theft of yang energy and nightmares. (Note: Ineffective against fierce ghosts.)】
—It was the reward from her previous “garbage cleaning” quest, and it was perfect for the current situation.
Chen Xi glanced at the fast-asleep Kang Xiaojia, stood up, tore open a pack, and carefully sprinkled a thin line along their bed frames, the gap under the door, and the floor around them.
The white glutinous rice mixed with gray lime was barely noticeable on the floor.
Having finished this, Chen Xi sat back down on the edge of the bed, closed her eyes, and began organizing the information they had gathered so far.
They had unlocked three taboos in total:
【First, do not let the native residents notice anything “different” about you.】
Interpreting this literally, it meant they must not let their identities as “living people” be discovered.
【Second, do not agree to any requests from the tenants.】
【Third, when patrolling at night, if you see light outside the window, do not look out.】
As for the warnings Uncle Biao had given them—like not touching Sister Fang's human skin, avoiding the rooftop, not talking while placing incense during the night patrol, and running if they encountered a fierce ghost...
These probably weren't instant-death taboos, but rather rules of thumb for survival.
With these thoughts in mind, Chen Xi gently rolled over on the bed.
Before entering the building, she had taken a quick look outside. Unlike previous Instances, the area outside the building was a complete projection of Hong Kong.
In previous Instances, leaving a certain boundary would result in being obliterated by the rules, or the boundary would simply be a wall of white fog.
It was like an unrendered game map.
If they could actually go outside the building, Chen Xi wanted to find out where the missing citizens had gone and what exactly lay beyond these walls.
They had to patrol the building a second time at four in the morning and place incense for forty-four households. It would likely take a considerable amount of time.
As she was thinking, Chen Xi suddenly heard a soft click.
Instantly alert, she opened her eyes and followed the sound to the family portrait hanging on the wall.
Clatter!
In the next second, the frame fell straight down, the glass shattering into pieces and scattering across the floor.
Crash!
“Captain!”
Kang Xiaojia, who hadn't been sleeping soundly, jolted awake in terror and buried her head in Chen Xi's chest.
Chen Xi wrapped an arm around her, sat straight up, and stared directly at the portrait on the floor.
A sweet aroma of dessert soup suddenly drifted through the room.
Gurgle, gurgle, gurgle...
From the direction of the kitchen, the sound of boiling bubbled up, the rolling gurgles growing louder and louder.
The sweet scent intensified instantly, becoming sickeningly sweet and bitter, laced with a metallic tang of rust.
The air grew thick, warm, and sticky.
Chen Xi tensed her body, readying her muscles, her eyes locked onto the wall.
Drip.
Suddenly, a sticky drop of liquid fell right onto her brow.
It was scalding hot and smelled of sweet blood, like boiling dessert soup splashing onto skin, instantly scalding a small patch red.
【System Notification: Attacked by Scald Evil; minor loss of yang energy.】
It's above!
Chen Xi suddenly channeled her core strength, throwing her right fist upward with a fierce gust of wind!
【Heaven's Justice】!
【...Against targets with 'Evil,' 'Unclean,' or 'Specter' tags, all damage is increased by 25%, and control skill duration is extended by 30%.】
A faint golden glow enveloped her fist, and the air screeched as her punch broke the silence like a sudden string of firecrackers.
Bang!!
Chen Xi's right fist connected squarely with a semi-transparent dark shadow.
Sizzle—
Like a red-hot iron branding fat, white smoke billowed, and a sharp shriek pierced their ears.
The shadow was sent flying backward, slamming hard against the kitchen wall and splashing a sticky mess of sweet soup everywhere.
With a clatter, a black vintage revolver dropped to the floor.
The gun's barrel gleamed coldly, and the hovering word 【Item】 above it was exceptionally eye-catching.
【Blood Bullet Revolver (Silver): Uses blood as bullets; different blood types trigger different effects. Infinite reload; rate of fire increases with the user's Constitution.】
Chen Xi flicked her toe, launching the slime-covered item into the air. It landed deftly in her palm. Ignoring the grime, she cocked the gun with a highly practiced click and aimed the muzzle at the ghost.
The dark shadow slowly rose from the floor.
It was a man with dark skin and thick lips, looking exactly like the father in the family portrait.
But along with the sweet soup aroma, his entire body began to break out in dense, varying-sized blisters.
Some of the blisters burst, oozing yellow pus and sweet soup as his skin peeled back and sticky chunks of flesh sloughed off.
He looked like a melting candle.
Kang Xiaojia's stomach churned violently, but she forced herself to swallow the bile down.
...
The male ghost's face was a bloody, mangled mess. His eyelids were fused together, exposing two muddy eyeballs embedded in his sockets. His voice was muffled and indistinct, as though his throat had been scalded raw: “Making soup... sweet soup... delicious sweet potato soup...”
“Have a bowl... drink it while it's hot...”
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