Chapter 173: Red Maple Boarding School (10) “He Was Infected”

After all the players reached the third floor, new rules were refreshed on the system interface:

【6. There will be two bed checks every night, scheduled at midnight and 4 AM. After the lights are turned off at ten o’clock, chatting in the dorm room is prohibited, and turning on the lights without permission is also forbidden.】

Qi Si lifted his eyelids and glanced at the ceiling, but he didn’t see any electric lights for illumination, nor did he know how the switching of lights was calculated.

In the dim environment without lights, the long, narrow corridor stretched out on both sides. Heavy black iron doors were embedded in the mud walls, with numbers written on them in white chalk.

Within Qi Si’s field of vision, the numbers were all two-digit, suggesting there were likely dozens, if not hundreds, of dorm rooms on this floor.

Twenty-nine players seemed like a decent number, but placed on the vast floor, they were like dust entering the sea—tiny and insignificant.

Qi Si walked up to the nearest door and saw that beneath the white numerical code, several dark etchings carved out five small digits.

He counted the room numbers until he reached Dorm Room 10, and as expected, beneath the chalk marks, he saw the etching “47.”

Who lived in each room had already been decided, eliminating disputes over room assignments. The student IDs corresponding to this room were clearly 46 through 50.

Other players also gradually noticed the clues on the iron doors and began whispering among themselves.

Qi Si reminded them timely, “If there’s no mistake, your respective numbers are written beneath your school badges.”

The players lowered their heads one after another and indeed saw the numerical codes beneath their own school badges.

Had they been forced to find their numbers themselves, they might not have failed, but Qi Si’s reminder undoubtedly helped them save time.

Although they didn’t thank him, the barrier between them and Qi Si, the “NPC,” inadvertently lessened somewhat.

Building an identity is not simply telling others who you are or what kind of person you are; more importantly, it is deepening others’ recognition of your identity through details, making them believe you are that person.

By acting in accordance with the identity of “Student 47” in various situations, Qi Si was undoubtedly layering a sense of “reality” that could be accepted by the other players.

The players would gradually become accustomed to his presence, accustomed to… a conditioned reflex of trust.

Qi Si pulled open the iron door and walked into the cramped dorm room, where he saw a layout that was very unfriendly to those with OCD.

Three beds were distributed highly asymmetrically on both sides of the room. They were all bunk bed designs, positioned straight across from the door. The beds were nailed together from iron sheets, often rusty at the edges. There were no mattresses or bedding on the boards, making them look cold and hard.

The distance between the upper and lower bunks was extremely short; one could easily hit their forehead just sitting up. They looked exactly like the cold storage units used for bodies in a funeral home.

The upper bunk of the bed designated 46 had a row of cabinets, likely for storing things. The cabinets were fitted with common mechanical locks, the type Qi Si was accustomed to picking.

Perhaps because a bathroom had already been installed on the first floor, the dorm room did not have a restroom, meaning going to the toilet likely required going outside.

Of course, many players would probably rather urinate inside the room than be willing to go out late at night.

Since his roommates hadn’t arrived yet, Qi Si immediately pulled a thin wire from his wristband and picked all the cabinet locks.

It seemed these cabinets hadn’t been cleaned in a long time, as a thick layer of dust had accumulated on the bottom.

Several bags containing black, unknown fragments were tightly packed inside. Qi Si opened one and sniffed it, confirming that they contained soil from the Maple Forest.

On the surface of the topmost bag, a line of crooked English writing was visible, which translated roughly to:

【Soil mixed with water and consumed can relieve hunger】

Qi Si recalled the nursery rhyme he had heard upon first entering the school; the opening line was, “Good children who don’t want to eat can only eat dirt.”

Did the children really not want to eat? Probably not.

In reality, they had nothing to eat, so they could only consume dirt to alleviate hunger.

Qi Si looked at the phrase “Survival is not easy” in the preliminary notice, and a vague sense of foreboding arose within him.

Today had been relatively smooth, but would there be a situation later where food was scarce, forcing them into a wilderness survival scenario?

As for eating dirt… Qi Si would not consider it until the very last moment.

Firstly, it probably wouldn’t taste good; secondly, someone had already died from contact with the dirt.

After putting the bags of dirt into his backpack, a few slips of paper were stirred by the wind from his movement, but they only trembled twice before settling lifelessly at the bottom of the drawer.

Qi Si pinched the paper slips with two fingers and held them up to examine them.

The edges of the paper were irregular, and the whole thing was wrinkled, as if it had been torn from the corner of some paper product and illegally transported here, stuffed into a pocket.

Tiny symbols were drawn on the paper in black script, dense and numerous like tadpoles clustered in water.

These symbols were uniform in size but varied in style. Straight or curved lines neatly outlined strange forms; they appeared to be some kind of writing.

Qi Si stared at the paper for a long time. When no translation appeared from the system, he decisively gave up trying to understand the meaning of the script.

He folded the slips of paper one by one and put them into his pants pocket. When he picked up the last one, his movements paused.

It was a square piece of paper, also torn from somewhere unknown, but its edges had been neatly trimmed.

The yellowish surface was covered with eyes painted in bright red pigment, staring at the observer with cold detachment. Around the eyes, a few sporadic vines were drawn in black pen, adding a touch of clamorous embellishment to the monotonous image.

The meaning of the image could not be accurately discerned, yet the moment he looked at it, it conveyed a sense of soul detachment, as if using it as a medium to resonate with a high-level entity and dissipate into the higher, boundless heavens.

This feeling was not unfamiliar. Qi Si had recently experienced an enhanced version in the Game Space, and even earlier, he had a similar feeling when staring directly at Qi’s corpse in “Su Clan Village.”

【You have discovered the remains of the Crimson High Priest】

【He was the deity’s favorite child, who once arranged a flesh and blood ritual for the god’s descent】

“An Evil God?” Qi Si narrowed his eyes, recalling the conversation he had overheard on his way to the bathroom.

‘He was taken by the Evil God,’ ‘always messing with those strange things,’ ‘the Evil God was brought by him’… Given that this instance has a Witchcraft setting, are they actually going to summon an Evil God?

Qi Si, who had finally gotten rid of the 【humanoid evil spirit】 card, stated that he absolutely did not want to establish any further connection with entities like the Evil God.

The iron door behind him was pulled open once more, and footsteps entered the room.

Seeing Qi Si hunched over the cabinet, the newcomer paused, then asked, “47, what are you doing?”

Qi Si maintained his posture standing on the ladder, continuing to rummage through the cabinet, and replied without turning his head, “Sorry, Brother Chen, I used to live in a room by myself, and my things were very messy, taking up many cabinets. I’ll clear them out as soon as possible…”

The newcomer was Chen Lidong.

As the Philanthropist, he shouldn’t have a school uniform. However, to avoid being spotted by other players, he quickly grabbed a uniform and put it on.

For now, he could only make the best of the situation and occupy the dorm room according to the number 50 written on the uniform.

The moment he entered, he heard Qi Si’s flawless nonsense.

What did “living in a room by myself” mean? Where were the others?

Chen Lidong thought more deeply than most, and immediately voiced his confusion.

Then he saw Qi Si turn his head to look at him. The expression on his delicate face was first confused, then instantly twisted into feelings of fear, unease, and sadness, as if he had finally recalled some deliberately erased information.

After two seconds of expressive acting, Qi Si stared chillingly into Chen Lidong’s eyes and eerily uttered a few words: “They are all dead, buried in the dirt…”

That voice was too cold, laced with traces of danger. Chen Lidong’s blood ran cold, and countless terrifying speculations arose in his mind, including whether he had said something he shouldn’t have, triggering a death condition.

Fortunately, Qi Si’s abnormal state lasted only an instant. His expression returned to calm the next second, and he continued where he left off: “I’ve tidied the cabinets, Brother Chen. You can put anything you have inside.”

Chen Lidong felt as if he had just walked through the gates of hell. When he spoke again, his voice was as quiet as a mosquito: “I… I don’t have anything. Thank you, 47.”

“You’re welcome, it’s what I should do.” After successfully scaring his roommate, Qi Si jumped down from the ladder, his smile bright, acting as if he completely forgot what had just happened.

Since Qi Si didn’t elaborate, Chen Lidong didn’t dare to ask again. He could only stand awkwardly at the doorway, unable to decide whether to enter or retreat.

The twenty-square-meter dorm room suddenly felt cramped, like a cage for rabbits.

The bed designated 47 was the lower bunk, directly opposite the bed with the cabinets.

Qi Si walked over naturally, took off his shoes, climbed onto the bed, and lay flat like a corpse.

Chen Lidong watched Qi Si lie down, barely daring to breathe, before tiptoeing toward bed number 50.

His bed was the upper bunk. The grown man awkwardly climbed the narrow ladder and then, following suit, played dead.

In the silence, Qi Si silently retrieved the Pocket Watch of Fate from his item bar, placed it beside his head, and watched the hands tick forward segment by segment without blinking.

The moment the hour hand pointed to the number “10,” the entire world suddenly plunged into darkness, as if a huge black curtain had been pulled down, obscuring all light.

This must be the “lights out” mentioned in the rules.

Yet, even at this moment, no new roommates had entered the dorm room.

It seemed that according to the instance’s arrangement, Dorm Room 10 only housed Qi Si and Chen Lidong, leaving three empty beds.

Shielded by the darkness, Qi Si curled up and reached out to touch the soles of his feet.

They were abnormally rough, seemingly covered in a layer of dirt that was rooted in his skin and couldn’t be wiped away.

The moment he took off his shoes, Qi Si noticed that the skin that had been submerged in the bathroom’s sewage was stained with the dark color of dirt, exactly like the back of the dead player—as if he had been contaminated.

Or, more accurately… was it infection?

…In Dorm Room 11, Philed lay on the bed, constantly scratching his back.

He didn’t have a school uniform, so naturally, he didn’t have a number, and he didn’t know which dorm room he should stay in.

He originally wanted to find a random occupied dorm room to stay in, but the players in every room said they didn’t welcome him, claiming they didn’t know if his lack of a uniform would attract ghosts or monsters.

Seeing that lights out was approaching, he could only enter the unoccupied Dorm Room 11 and randomly pick a bed to lie down on.

In the darkness, Philed cursed internally, using the most vicious language to condemn all the players who refused to help him.

In reality, who wasn’t respectful and polite toward him? Unlike this instance, where everyone lacked humility and respect, acting savage and selfish like a bunch of hooligans.

Lying on the hard bed board, Philed was wide awake. The itchiness on his back grew stronger and stronger. He dug into his skin with his fingernails, scratching several bloody marks.

Ever since he went to the Maple Forest and came back, his back had been unbearably itchy, making him scratch hard involuntarily.

After hearing Jiang Junjue talk about what happened in the bathroom, he felt that the symptoms of the dead player were very similar to his own, and for a moment, he almost thought he was going to die here.

It wasn’t until he was showering and asked a nearby player to look at his back, and the player claimed they saw no traces of dirt or mushrooms, that he finally felt relieved.

Now that he thought about it, he figured he must have been bitten by a tropical venomous insect, which was why it had been itching until now.

“What a damn place? I’ve really hit rock bottom,” Philed muttered fiercely to himself. Suddenly, he heard the sound of fabric rubbing—like someone turning over.

Was there someone else in the dorm room besides him?

Philed was absolutely sure that he hadn’t seen a single soul when he entered. If there was someone, it could only be… As if to confirm that he hadn’t been hallucinating, there was a “thump” from the upper bunk; someone had hit the wall while turning over.

Breathing sounds rose and fell, and the previously empty dorm room was instantly filled with sleeping people.

Cold sweat instantly broke out on Philed. He retrieved a flashlight from his item bar and turned it on, hoping to use the light to dispel his fear.

The pale light shone on the wall, illuminating a gray human face.

That face only had a rough outline; the eyes and mouth were three long, oval-shaped voids, much like a figure in an abstract painting.

The moment the light hit it, the void where the mouth should be on the face began to tremble, and it said eerily, “You turned on the light, you turned on the light during lights out…”

Philed snapped out of his daze, quickly turned off the flashlight, and mumbled in defense, “I… I’m sorry! I’m turning it off now…”

The face on the wall giggled, “You spoke, you spoke in the dorm room…”

Philed: “…”

【After the lights are turned off at ten o’clock, chatting in the dorm room is prohibited, and turning on the lights without permission is also forbidden.】

The rule description was vivid, hanging coldly on the system interface, leaving no room for negotiation.

Fear stimulated his heart to contract frantically. Philed felt a faint urge to urinate, and a few drops of warm liquid seeped out from below.

Almost instinctively, he threw the flashlight onto the floor and curled himself into a ball.

However, it was too late. Amidst the strange laughter of the face, intense pain erupted from his back, as if something was bursting forth from the ground, using his flesh as soil.

The pain and itchiness merged into one. He thrashed around in agony, but it was no use.

The rustling sound of growing plants lingered behind his ears for a moment. The newborn vegetation grew wildly, ruthlessly devouring his life and strength…