Chapter 189: Red Maple Boarding School (26) “I’m not some pervert”

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. A few people, still uneasy, picked up materials copied by other players and copied them again onto their own paper, keeping them as backup.

Jiang Junjue scanned the room, feeling as if something was missing, but couldn’t recall what it was.

A player timely asked, “How do we know what these words mean? Are we supposed to ask Ms. Medina?”

“Asking Ms. Medina is useless. If she knew these words, she would have found a way to concoct a cure herself after contracting the insomnia syndrome.” Jiang Junjue narrowed his eyes, lighting another cigarette. “I do have some guesses on how to identify these words… Let’s go to the fourth floor and see; maybe we’ll figure it out as we go.”

The players exchanged glances, then nodded in agreement.

Since entering the instance, their activity had mostly been restricted to the first to third floors. Apart from the seven who first went up to explore, no one else had been to the fourth floor.

If no clues could be found elsewhere, by process of elimination, they could only try their luck on the fourth floor.

It was still early for lunch, so the group, in high spirits, left the room and headed towards the stairwell.

As they were about to ascend, the players spontaneously formed a line, with Jiang Junjue leading the way.

Jiang Junjue drew a longsword from his inventory and held it in front of him, ascending the moss-covered concrete stairs at an unhurried pace, each step making a soft rustling sound.

The stairwell was much more dilapidated than on the first day. Large patches of water stains permeated the walls on both sides, the external heat and internal cold causing the concrete to crack, and viscous liquid flowed from the cracks, carrying rice-grain-sized white insect eggs.

Only finger-thick greenish mushrooms spewed tendrils at the junction of the steps and walls. If one accidentally stepped on them, their caps would immediately burst open, emitting a nauseating, putrid smell.

The air seemed to be filled with invisible phantoms. The further they walked, the greater the air pressure, as if an invisible force was acting upon them. Moving even slightly faster would cause difficulty breathing and tightness in the chest.

A team of sixteen people was quite a large force, yet several timid players showed signs of backing away, even shivering.

This wasn’t fear they generated themselves; it was more like an aura acting on a subconscious level, preventing them from moving forward.

Jiang Junjue held his longsword horizontally, his pace unwavering as he stepped, finally reaching the last stair and standing firmly on the fourth-floor corridor.

Instantly, countless wails and screams exploded in his ears.

“It hurts… we hurt so much…”

“Please… let us go…”

“I don’t want to die…Waaaaah… I don’t want to die…”

Children’s cries rose and fell, almost bursting Jiang Junjue’s eardrums. Even when he covered his ears, the sounds continued to pour into his mind without a break.

He breathed with difficulty, barely able to stand.

Behind him, several players who had followed his steps upstairs experienced the same situation. Some squatted on the ground, clutching their heads, while others, though forcing themselves to stand straight, were already in tears.

Fortunately, the anomaly only lasted for half a minute. The sounds in their ears gradually faded, eventually returning to a still, calm silence, leaving only a buzzing tinnitus like an echo.

Jiang Junjue checked the time; it was already 11:30, half an hour before lunch.

He didn’t know if anything else would happen that might make him miss the cafeteria; but since they were already here, he couldn’t return empty-handed… He looked back at the half of the players who stood at the stairwell, not daring to take another step forward: “If any of you are scared, hand over the copied materials to me and go back. Those who aren’t afraid, follow me.”

Within seconds, most of the players sparsely retreated, and Jiang Junjue’s hand held a thick stack of white papers.

Including Jiang Junjue, only seven people remained on the fourth floor, two of whom were members of the Tingfeng Guild.

The situation didn’t exceed Jiang Junjue’s expectations by much. He glanced at the dimly lit corridor, where the path ahead was almost invisible, turned on his flashlight, and walked towards the room he remembered exploring with Zhang Yiyu.

His thoughts touched upon a crucial point, and he frowned.

Where had Zhang Yiyu gone? He felt like he hadn’t seen her for a while.

Jiang Junjue vaguely recalled not seeing the girl’s figure among the large group copying books in the small room, and subconsciously looked back at the few players following him.

He saw Zhang Yiyu, like a sparrow, following safely at the end of the line, three positions ahead of her was Chen Lidong, who looked extremely arrogant.

Seeing that both players with special identities were right under his nose, Jiang Junjue finally relaxed, though he couldn’t help but worry: the amnesia caused by the insomnia syndrome was truly severe, and his memory was becoming confused.

Zhang Yiyu was inexplicably looked at by Jiang Junjue, and her internal alarm bells rang. She quickly reviewed the story she had concocted with Chen Lidong in her mind, but Jiang Junjue said nothing and simply turned his head to continue forward.

For a moment, her heart was even more unsettled.

She and Chen Lidong had only rejoined the main group five minutes ago. At that time, they reached the second floor and happened to see the tail end of the player team at the stairwell, so they quietly followed.

When Jiang Junjue told the scared ones to go back, she immediately wanted to retreat but was pulled back by Chen Lidong, leaving her no choice but to remain on the fourth floor with a bitter expression.

The seven-person team moved quickly, and soon, led by Jiang Junjue, they entered the room at the end of the corridor.

In the classroom-like space, low tables were neatly arranged. Though called tables, their height, length, and width made them look more like dissection tables.

On each table lay a bone-white skeleton, visibly belonging to a child.

The moment Jiang Junjue stepped into the room, the skeletons all turned to face him, their lipless mouths opening and closing, singing a strange tune.

Several players, seeing this for the first time, couldn’t help but take half a step back.

Jiang Junjue calmly exhaled smoke, maintaining his composed and steady persona in front of his companions.

He waited for a full half minute, but the skeletons sang with increasing vigor, showing no signs of quieting down.

He simply unfolded the paper covered with illegible symbols and held it in front of the nearest skeleton.

The skeleton paused for two seconds, its emitted syllables changing tune, and probably due to the instance’s mechanism, it began to translate the words on the paper.

The skeleton had a heavy accent, and the players exchanged bewildered glances, still unable to understand what it meant.

Zhang Yiyu also listened intently. As she was lost in thought, lines of silvery-white text appeared before her eyes without warning, and she instinctively read them aloud:

“The recipe for treating insomnia syndrome is as follows: half a person’s poisonous mushroom, half a person’s Yellow Butterfly, half a person’s Yellow Flower, half a person’s Black Soil. Cook them together, and one person will be cured.”

“Half a person”? What does that mean?

Zhang Yiyu frowned slightly. As soon as she looked up, she saw Jiang Junjue staring at her with a profound gaze.

Jiang Junjue removed the cigarette from his lips with two fingers, his expression complex: “It seems only the Witch identity can understand the words of the native ghosts. That means some crucial information can only be known by Little Zhang…”

Zhang Yiyu whispered, “Boss, I actually don’t understand anything either. It’s just that some text appeared on the system interface…”

“You continue, I’m listening.” Jiang Junjue nodded slowly. “So, what does the quantifier ‘half a person’ mean?”

“Isn’t it obvious? People who die in the bathroom or Archives turn into soil. People who die elsewhere randomly grow mushrooms, yellow butterflies, or Yellow Flowers…” Chen Lidong said, his voice dropping. “The relics of two deceased people can be made into a potion to cure one person. We have eighteen people, which means twelve die, and six are saved…”

The air grew tense for a moment. Jiang Junjue smacked his lips, taking deep drags from his cigarette, his eyes, with their faint wrinkles, remained fixed on Zhang Yiyu.

Zhang Yiyu felt a chill run down her spine from his gaze and could only lower her head to avoid his scrutinizing eyes.

Without warning, a clear voice echoed from the depths of her mind: “Zhang Yiyu, you need to violate a rule as soon as possible and find a way to get locked in the Isolation Room.”

This voice was incredibly familiar, belonging to Qi Si, who had been buried alive in the Graveyard, but it no longer sounded weak and listless. He sounded in excellent condition, completely unlike someone trapped in a coffin.

“You… you’re not dead?” Zhang Yiyu trembled all over. “Then why didn’t you say anything back then? I thought you were dead…”

She closed her eyes and saw a Golden Vine floating in the dark mind palace. Its tail, only as thick as a fingernail, was curling around her soul leaf, kneading it idly.

Death warnings flashed wildly. She remembered what she and Chen Lidong had said, how she had vowed to kill Qi Si with Chen Lidong, how she had not only filled the pit with several shovelfuls of dirt but also stomped on it a few times… At this moment, she only felt as if her spine was bathed in a cold wind, mercilessly chilling her to the bone.

It’s over, it’s over. Si Qi was never a magnanimous person… She would definitely have her soul crushed and be tortured to death, right?

“Ahem, I’m still alive. All that previous act was to trick you, afraid you wouldn’t play it convincingly.”

Qi Si lay in the dark coffin, savoring the fear of his tool, not mentioning the live burial at all.

It was within his expectations for Chen Lidong to spot the flaw, as he had insufficient knowledge of the instance when he first concocted that lie. Although he had made many details ambiguous, with more clues being revealed, smart people would eventually catch on.

Likewise, he knew he would soon become a thorn in Ms. Medina’s side.

After burning the Archives, and using the instance’s mechanism to frame Yamakawa Nobuhiro for his death, who knew if other players would notice something amiss and report him?

Given the circumstances, entering another space via the coffin was imperative.

The moment he lay in the coffin, countless non-narrative messages flooded Qi Si’s mind, telling him: the coffin must be completely buried with soil to travel through time and space.

Since entering the instance, Qi Si had figured out Zhang Yiyu’s character, knowing she was timid and weak, lacked conviction, and would retreat at the slightest danger; he also knew her strength was worrying, full of flaws, and she couldn’t act covertly at all.

Entrusting her with the important task of burying the soil would most likely lead to trouble.

Therefore, Qi Si didn’t, as he usually would, threaten his tool with harsh terms like “no harm to the main body’s interests allowed” or “if the main body dies, the object also dies”; instead, he maintained a cold, condescending attitude.

—This was all to facilitate Zhang Yiyu’s betrayal.

Now, Qi Si, with a gentle smile, continued to order: “After entering the Isolation Room, find a place to discard the Team Ring. If possible, try to carve ‘47’ in a corner. If you can’t, then don’t worry about it.”

The judgment had not fallen, like the Sword of Damocles hanging over her head. Zhang Yiyu looked at the vine still playing with her soul leaf, feeling as if countless ants were crawling in her heart, itching her painfully.

Qi Si’s casual remark, “If you can’t, then don’t worry about it,” sounded light and easy, but she dared not take it lightly, silently repeating in her heart, “I will definitely do it!”

Then she heard the young man click his tongue, “What’s wrong? So scared… I’m not some pervert who likes to slice people into pieces and boil them to eat.”

Zhang Yiyu: “…”

Jiang Junjue couldn’t hear Zhang Yiyu and Qi Si’s conversation in the consciousness space. Seeing the girl suddenly turn pale, he thought she had revealed a flaw under his pressure, and immediately pressed, “Little Zhang, according to your recipe, twelve of us would have to die. What do you think?”

“Me? Haha…” Zhang Yiyu let out two dry laughs, then suddenly grabbed the edge of her school uniform and peeled it upwards.

Jiang Junjue subconsciously turned his head, relieved that the girl had only taken off her school uniform jacket, revealing the green clothes underneath.

All the players were initially bewildered, completely unable to understand why she was taking off her clothes in public.

The next second, Ms. Medina burst into the room, shouting in a sharp voice, “You Bad Kid who isn’t wearing your school uniform, go to the Isolation Room immediately!”