Chapter 263 – Wraith (10) Sharing This Fragmentary Chapter

The fresh lines that had appeared on the paper greeted the players with a simple “We’re fine,” and ended almost as soon as they began.

The last few characters grew even fainter, their shapes loose, strokes meandering—as though the hand holding the pen had suddenly lost its strength and could only sketch a rough outline of each word.

Even so, the message they conveyed was priceless.

Luo Haihua and her husband, whom the others had feared dead, were alive inside the instance—and could still pass messages with pen and paper.

They might even be in this very room: not missing, merely invisible to the rest of the players. The system prompt 【The death of the demon became the mystery of the sage.】 was crystal-clear, and the note in Underworld Record—【Those that cannot be seen are called Yi.，Hearing it without hearing its name is called Xi.】—hung before their eyes; the answer was almost shouting at them—

The couple had most likely, by some twist of fate, turned into the unseen and unheard form known as “Nothingness.”

But how many times had they died to jump straight from ghost to Nothingness?

Surely they hadn’t been locked in last night while the fire burned them over and over, dying again and again?

“Lin Wen, what’s wrong?” Tang Yu asked, seeing Qi Si’s expression grow stranger as he stared at the sheet.

Qi Si cut short the ill-timed gallows humour, turned, and handed the paper to Lin Chen—who stood directly behind him—so he could pass it two places farther to Tang Yu.

“Look at the bottom—that message is from Teacher Luo and her husband.”

Lin Chen and Tang Yu each studied the page where Qi Si pointed; both their faces shifted slightly.

Lin Chen had clung to a slim hope that the couple had merely been shunted into some other space, yet reason told him they had most likely perished.

Now a reprieve appeared: his fantasy had come true; the teammates he had just met were alive. The tension he had carried melted into heartfelt relief for them.

Tang Yu felt much the same.

He was not as soft-hearted as Lin Chen. After more than a year in the Game he had grown inured to casualties, usually as hard as iron and swift to kill.

But he had once belonged to Jiuzhou Guild; seeing innocents with a chance to survive naturally lifted his spirits.

More importantly, the couple’s situation confirmed two things:

First, players had more than one life in this instance.

According to the earlier hint, a “ghost” died once to become a “zhan,” twice to become “Nothingness”—so the margin for error was fairly generous.

Second, players who became “Nothingness” could still leave written messages; later they might use their invisibility to scout for clues and help the rest crack the world-view.

“Teacher Luo, can you see or hear us?” Tang Yu called aloud.

There was no reply—only a breeze from nowhere stirred the furnishings, billowing sheets and swaying lanterns.

Qi Si slipped the paper from Tang Yu’s fingers, laid it on the bedside table, and placed the ballpoint pen beside it.

Tang Yu, suddenly understanding, stepped over with Lin Chen; the three held their breath and stared at the sheet.

Still nothing happened.

Qi Si flipped the paper, picked up the pen, and wrote:

【Teacher Luo, I’m Lin Wen. I’m with Lin Ya and Tang Yu; we can read what you write. Could you kindly confirm two things:】

【1. Can you hear us speak?】

【2. Can you see us?】

He set the pen down and watched the page.

Lin Chen, watching beside him, asked, “Brother Lin, if they can answer the first question, doesn’t that already prove they can see us?”

“Not necessarily.” Qi Si shook his head. “What’s the direct link between seeing paper and seeing us?”

“Huh? Really?” Lin Chen’s imagination ran wild. “So maybe to them the whole instance is just darkness with a single sheet of paper floating in it…”

His voice trailed off.

The ballpoint pen on the bedside table slowly lifted, as though gripped by an invisible hand, and carefully drew an × beside the first question.

Tang Yu concluded, “They can’t hear us; we’ll have to rely on the pen and paper.”

After a moment’s thought he rubbed his chin. “‘The unheard is called Xi’—looks like the rule works both ways; it’s not just that we can’t hear them.”

“‘The soundless is called Xi’—possibly their world of ‘Xi’ is one without any sound at all.”

While he spoke the pen moved again, sliding to the next question and starting a stroke.

Just as the players thought it would finish, it lifted and drew a second diagonal from the opposite corner—

another ×.

Lin Chen’s eyes widened in rapid succession: “They can’t see us? Then how can they see the paper? Is it because this paper was brought in from outside the Game?”

He instinctively looked at Qi Si, eyes shining with the habitual thirst for answers.

It had become second nature. When someone’s decisions again and again proved right, he was deified; people inevitably treated him as an oracle or wishing-tree, certain every riddle would receive a satisfying answer—

even if that answer defied reason, devotees would blindly believe, driven by sheer mental laziness.

“No idea.” For now Qi Si chose not to spend the tool-men’s faith, so he answered honestly. “I don’t know any more than you, but perhaps we can simply ask Teacher Luo and her husband.”

He crumpled the used sheet, stuffed it into his backpack, and took out a stack of clean paper.

He lifted the pen again and wrote at length on the top sheet:

【Thank you, Teacher Luo. We now know you can’t see or hear us, but you can read words on paper.】

【We believe all players are in spirit form, while you have become the special spirits called “Nothingness.”】

【We already have ideas about clearing this instance, but we still lack some key information. Could we trouble you:】

【1. Tell us the name and exact date of the Eerie Game formal-pool instance you cleared (and if possible your item reserves) so we may work out a plan for everyone to survive.】

【2. Recap what happened to you last night; it may help us understand how “Nothingness” form.】

【3. Describe the world as you see it; we suspect vital clues may be hidden there.】

【The Scholar is urging us to Master Meng’s house; we must leave now and won’t return until evening. Take care.】

Qi Si’s handwriting was atrocious—the classic scrawl of a poor student whose papers were marked down by computerised grading.

Not only were the strokes joined in wild curves, many were half-missing; probably only teachers long used to homework could decipher it.

Lin Chen, watching the appalling glyphs take shape, itched to snatch the sheet and copy the message out neatly.

But seeing Qi Si’s unbothered calm, he swallowed the impulse and said nothing.

Qi Si spread a stack of blank sheets in a row across the bedside table and the bed, then set a ballpoint pen beside the paper.

An invisible presence lifted the pen and drew a single stroke beneath the printed words; it took a full two seconds before the first complete stroke appeared.

Controlling tangible objects while in a ‘Nothingness’ state clearly wasn’t easy; by the time every question was answered, who knew how many moons would have passed.

Qi Si watched quietly for a moment, then stood and said to the two men beside him, who were as still as chickens, ‘Let’s go. By the time we come back tonight, Teacher Luo and the others should have written their answers.’

‘Gentlemen, it’s time!’ From downstairs, the Scholar’s urging voice rang out at just the right moment, carrying a rustling hiss like wind.

The phrase ‘it’s time’ sounded like a ghostly summons, dripping with eerie menace. The players dared not linger; each grabbed their lantern and set off.

Looking down from the second-floor corridor, the Scholar stood ramrod-straight in the exact center of the Residence doorway, stiff as a statue.

This time Qi Si took the lead; Lin Chen and Tang Yu followed right behind, treading the wooden stairs in cautious unison.

Tang Yu recalled the questions Qi Si had written on the paper; two of them were things he too wanted to ask, but the first one left him completely baffled.

While still some distance from the Scholar, he couldn’t help whispering, ‘Lin Wen, what does getting Teacher Luo to tell us the date we’ll clear the instance and the props in reserve have to do with formulating a plan?’

‘Maybe they have some special items that could come in handy here—uses we just haven’t spotted yet,’ Qi Si answered off-handedly, then added blandly, ‘Even if there aren’t any, at the very least we can confirm whether they entered the game with us, right?’

Tang Yu digested the implication, his expression turning grim. ‘You suspect they’re NPCs posing as players?’

Human thought has inertia; once accustomed to a certain logic, people easily treat a rule that only works in limited cases as an unquestioned axiom and overlook possible variables.

But once someone points out the flaw and the mind steps out of the blind spot, everything becomes clear and previously ignored details leap into view.

Tang Yu belatedly realized that, after entering the instance, the players had had no time to swap much personal information before being locked two-by-two in the Residence’s rooms.

Everyone’s impression of Luo Haihua remained the kindly language teacher; no one actually knew what her handwriting looked like.

And the information that can be passed on paper is limited; countless points allow for forgery and fraud.

The players couldn’t see the person or hear the voice, so telling whether the other party was human or ghost was nearly impossible.

After thinking for a moment, Tang Yu rejected the idea himself. ‘No—if they were NPCs, why would they write simplified characters and know our names?’

‘NPCs could once have been players; if you frequent the forums, you’d know that,’ Qi Si said, recalling the events in the Shuangxi Town instance with a soft laugh. ‘As for knowing names—simple. We introduced ourselves at the start of the instance.’

Shuangxi Town is a classic instance; although it has faded from newer players’ memories over time, for members of the Jiuzhou Guild such dungeons with special mechanics are required study.

Tang Yu quickly caught up to Qi Si’s line of thought and frowned. ‘You suspect the NPCs in this instance have a god’s-eye view?’

‘Can’t rule it out, can we?’ Qi Si glanced back. ‘After all, we can’t see the “Nothingness”; maybe a few of them are drifting right beside us.’

Tang Yu objected, ‘According to this instance’s setting, the Nothingness can’t hear our conversations.’

Qi Si smiled and countered, ‘How can you be sure what they tell us is the truth?’

He tilted his head, smile earnest. ‘I can tell you right now that I actually can’t see or hear a thing—would you dare write your bank-card password in front of me and read it out loud?’

‘Why wouldn’t I? Even if you got the password, you couldn’t withdraw the cash—unless you tracked me down in real life…’ Tang Yu retorted, but he understood Qi Si’s point.

Although instances where NPCs feed players false information are rare, the Eerie Game has pulled such shameless stunts before.

Puzzle instances are infamous for being traps—like math exam questions: the early parts look harmless, but one mistake later and the whole solution collapses.

And without the right answer, no matter how correct the earlier steps, players face only the brutal minimum-death mechanism in the end.

Therefore, before the outcome is sealed, being meticulous about the details is always wise.

Following Qi Si’s reasoning, Tang Yu rubbed his chin. ‘If a bunch of invisible “Nothingness” keep watching us, won’t they know everything we do?’

‘And we don’t have a team-up prop or any way to communicate without speaking…’

‘Exactly, but it doesn’t matter.’ Qi Si remained unruffled. ‘Right now they can’t touch us; apart from exchanging information, they can’t affect us in any way.’

‘And when it comes to information, we can always set up deliberate barriers.’

Tang Yu’s train of thought had been steered squarely into the realm of information security.

He nodded slightly, then grew grave. ‘Come to think of it, we don’t just guard against those Nothingness. The Residence room keys are in the townsfolk’s hands; while we’re out, they could search our rooms.’

‘The locals don’t trust outsiders, and they may end up opposing us. Even if Teacher Luo and the others are trustworthy, letting the townsfolk see those papers would still be dangerous.’

Qi Si lifted an eyelid and said coolly, ‘Relax—they won’t be able to read it.’

Tang Yu was taken aback, not understanding.

Lin Chen instantly recalled the chicken-scrawl characters Qi Si had written on the paper.

They could hardly be called Chinese characters; they bore no resemblance to standard forms.

To a modern who knows simplified script they were already cryptic; to townsfolk who use traditional characters, they might as well be celestial script.

As expected of a pro—he’d planned even for that… Lin Chen silently lit a candle for any townsfolk who might try to decipher those characters.

The three players continued their whispered discussion as they leisurely reached the bottom of the Residence, then fell silent in unison and stepped behind the Scholar at the doorway.

The Scholar turned to sweep his gaze over them, his eyes deep and lifeless, the same cordial smile on his face. ‘Good, everyone’s here. I’ll take you to see Master Meng now.’