AshPurgatory2025
Stories
1
Chapters
1,780
Words
21.9 M
Comments
0
Reading
76 d, 3 h
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Ms. Medina would never forget that orange-skied afternoon when she was six years old. A line of travelers, cloaked in red robes, emerged from the dark green horizon in the distance. Each had an unfamiliar face, and, travel-worn, they sought help from her people. The travelers brought out many novelties Ms. Medina had never seen before: boxes that sprayed fire when pressed, mirrors that could magnify ants to the size of beetles, and stones that could cling to iron. Ms.…-
7.0 M • Ongoing
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Red Maple Boarding School, inside the Graveyard. Surrounded by shadowy figures, Chen Lidong used White Blade to clear a space, stepping on the mixed pulp of crushed mushrooms and yellow flowers, standing silently before a tomb. The number carved on the tombstone was, of course, "47." After lunch, Chen Lidong went to Ms. Medina, intending to use her to kill someone, but instead found himself with a task. The side quest, 【Catch 47】, was clearly written…
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7.0 M • Ongoing
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On the fourth floor of Red Maple Boarding School, the skeleton in the room was still tirelessly singing incomprehensible, irritating songs. The treatment plan for “insomnia syndrome” was very clear: by using the remnants of two deceased individuals to create a potion, exactly one person could be saved. But in practice, two deaths were far from enough. The antidote required soil, mushrooms, yellow butterflies, and yellow flowers. Soil and mushrooms could not be obtained from a single…
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7.0 M • Ongoing
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The Girl had grown up in Red Maple Boarding School for as long as she could remember, quiet and docile as a deaf-mute child. When teachers and children saw her, she was usually sitting alone in a sunless corner, quietly sucking her fingers and staring at passers-by with wide, watery eyes. As she grew older, her strangeness gradually surfaced. She seemed to suffer from a peculiar form of anorexia; while other children wolfed down scarce meals, she would swallow only a symbolic…
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7.0 M • Ongoing
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In a small room on the second floor of the school, players crowded into a space of less than thirty cubic meters, writing furiously. Jiang Junjue pulled out a flashlight from who knows where and embedded it into a hole in the ceiling, providing some light, however meager. The thirteen men and three women were not squeamish. They each took a small stack of furs inscribed with illegible symbols and meticulously copied them. At 11:20, all the symbols that looked like characters had been copied.…
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7.0 M • Ongoing
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Two centuries ago, two races separated by vast oceans met eyes across an endless expanse of Black Soil. With no shared language or script, they could communicate only through the most primitive gestures and pantomime. The strangers found the unfamiliar land and sweltering climate hard to bear. Flustered, they drove off venomous insects and beasts, pitched flimsy tents on the damp earth, and begged the indigenous people—still living by primitive means—for food. Thanks to the locals'…
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7.0 M • Ongoing
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On April 1st, Jin Yusheng organized a murder mystery game in a teahouse, joined by Qi Si and a woman who called herself "Xu Ning." Offline murder mystery games rarely have three-person scripts, so the trio naturally chose an online script and randomly picked one called "Three-Day Manor" from a rudimentary app. Aside from flipping coins and rolling dice, there is little true randomness in the world. Most seemingly arbitrary decisions, from the moment they occur, are influenced by…
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7.0 M • Ongoing
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Ms. Medina’s lesson content was English. If Shang Qingbei were here, he might have been interested; unfortunately, most of the surviving players were past the age of needing to take English exams. They were either fidgeting or restless, yet they had to pretend to listen attentively in front of the NPCs—it was truly miserable. Fortunately, at exactly eleven o'clock, a piercing bell rang precisely on time, signaling the end of the class. Ms. Medina gathered all the players in the…
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7.0 M • Ongoing
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On the second floor, Chen Lidong had already pried open another door sealed with cement. Inside the room, stacks of tattered pelts were neatly piled, their surfaces covered with dense, unrecognizable script. It was clear these were Indigenous documents, rounded up by the Foundation and locked away here. Chen Lidong glanced at the compulsory side quest on his system interface, gritted his teeth, and began laboriously studying the glyph-covered pelts. Setting aside the Witch,…
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7.0 M • Ongoing
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In the Memorial Hall for Indigenous Victims, the tour guide said in a sweet voice, “The first floor is the Archives, mainly displaying historical materials of the indigenous people, as well as some first-hand materials like diaries left by those involved.” “The second floor housed the classrooms where indigenous children used to attend classes. Most of the relics have been cleared out, leaving only some desks. Perhaps you can sit at them and experience that period of history up…
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7.0 M • Ongoing
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