Chapter 266: Wraith (13) – Travelers Lost in the Deep Forest

In a second-floor room of the eastern Residence, two different handwritings question and answer across the page, sketching a plot utterly unlike the one unfolding west of town.

Luo Haihua and her husband saw a lantern topple on its own at night; ready to intervene, they learned from a clue-analyzing item that dying in a great fire wasn’t an accidental death flag—it was the key to cracking the world-view.

The item told them Yanghua Town had been razed by fire years ago and no longer existed.

The Yanghua Town they now stood in was an after-image of the past, inherently false, so of course no real exit could be found.

Only by passing through the same flames could they enter the true Yanghua Town.

The claim was not baseless; the proof lay hidden in their room—a letter.

“Should this city fall, our homeland is lost; your children and property will become slaves and spoils…”

“Many in the southeast rally to the king. Once the royal host marches, only breath may remain. We must cut fuel and burn the palace and towers; jewels and tripods shall turn to ash rather than aid the foe.”

Legend says that when Yanghua Town was about to fall, General Meng—so the enemy couldn’t resupply—ordered his men to start at the east quarter, herding townsfolk and torching homes and stores as they went.

The whole town burned; stampedes and stray injuries were common. Those who perished in the flames burned with grievance, their fixation condensing into an image of Yanghua moments before ruin, their wronged souls roaming the town as in life.

A classic horror trope, yet evidence was solid; after agonizing, the Luos chose to believe it.

Events proved them right: they awoke, while every other player had vanished—visible to none.

All who had escaped the blaze were trapped in a separate space, contactable only by pen and paper.

—A situation that, from the west-side players’ perspective, could hardly be more opposite.

“General Meng… could that be Master Meng himself? After burning the town he somehow became a ghost and kept ruling his people in death?”

Qi Si set the page back on the nightstand and rubbed his face. “Also… why don’t I remember ever being trapped?”

Luo Haihua’s handwriting on the paper was unmistakable, identical to that of the ‘Nothingness’ Luo Haihua in the west Residence, confirming one and the same author.

What bothered Qi Si was the absence of his own writing; the person talking to the Luos called himself “Tang Yu,” claimed to be with Lin Chen, and never once mentioned Qi Si or Qiu Xin.

“Did I get separated? Is the info fake? Is an NPC posing as a player—or is this a separate timeline independent of what I’m experiencing now?”

Qi Si shook his head, gaze drifting to the wooden bed.

Luo Jianhua and Luo Haihua lay motionless; outwardly flawless, they didn’t look like dummies conjured by the Eerie Game.

Yet their breathing was as regular as a programmed loop; even when Qi Si rustled the pages loudly, it caused not the slightest ripple.

Qi Si sat on the bed and spoke at normal volume, “Teacher Luo, wake up.”

The bed shook under him, the sound sharp in the hush.

Veteran players stay alert; barring a script, such noise should jolt them awake.

Still the pair lay with shut eyes, not a hair stirring, showing no sign of rousing.

Qi Si recalled how, after Zi Hour last night, he’d succumbed to sleep without dreams, waking only at dawn.

Was this the same forced slumber—a compulsory mechanism of the instance, impossible to defy?

Come to think of it, was it even daytime on the Luos’ timeline?

Qi Si glanced outside: a blank white sky, unmistakably not night.

He looked back, sending the Cursed Pendulum to drift toward Luo Haihua, lightly prodding her arm.

The scarlet bob sank smoothly through skin; with a soft “shh” it fell inside, light fading like a sunset, as though piercing thin air.

Qi Si reeled the pendulum back; the skin showed no wound, pristine as before.

“A protection on sleepers like in Shuangxi Town—or am I in a ‘Nothingness’ state to the east-side folk?”

“Are the Luo couple I’m seeing now the same two I met at the start?”

Qi Si rose, eyes lowered to the paper on the nightstand, lost in thought.

Two seconds later he lifted the pen and, in atrocious handwriting, wrote:

“I am Lin Wen. It is now the second day, daytime, of the instance. In our timeline you have vanished into Nothingness—just as, in yours, we are ghosts to you.”

“Tang Yu, Lin Ya and I followed the funeral party east, trying to slip out of town. From our view you lie asleep in the Residence. I need to know:”

“1. What day of the instance is it on your side?”

“2. How far have you progressed on the main quest? Any side quests?”

“3. What calendar date (year-month-day) did you enter the instance?”

Qi Si had plenty more to share—info touching on faction tasks and future plans—but deeper talk could wait.

He needed to confirm three things: first, were these the real Luos; second, could they receive his message; third, would NPCs eavesdrop and be affected?

“Brother Qi, we got out of town—well, sort of…”

Within his mental hall, blood-red soul leaves trembled as Lin Chen’s plaintive voice rose: “Behind the Residence there really is a huge Bamboo Forest, kind of like the one we passed before entering town, yet not quite.”

“Plenty of Scarecrows in there; once the old man’s corpse went in, it turned into a Scarecrow too…”

Qi Si brushed the crimson leaf in his mind, seeing through Lin Chen’s eyes a blurred, eerie scene.

The Bamboo Forest sprouted behind the Residence’s corpse-pile, layers of leaves weaving into dark clouds-like shadows. Cold mist threaded among them, linking dozens of human silhouettes.

They weren’t people but Scarecrows, faces painted chalk-white with lip-red and rouge, wearing human clothes—mostly black, some white or crimson.

Their arms stuck out stiffly, bodies ramrod-straight, forming crosses from afar, as though nailed in place.

A gust set them quivering, slowly turning them around.

The reverse bore another face: three horizontal strokes and one vertical for features.

Unlike the smiling front, this side looked stern and unfriendly.

Qi Si flashed on two scholars’ faces, and on the old couple who ran the Residence.

The Scarecrows’ solemn and grinning expressions felt familiar, summarizing every NPC he’d met since entering Yanghua: the stiff-faced scholar first seen, the smiling others… Hypotheses formed—simple to test later.

“Lin Chen, Tang Yu—stay put till I reach you.” Saying so, he left the room, shutting the door behind him. In the Bamboo Forest the Paper Effigys had dispersed; seeing no threat, Lin Chen and Tang Yu warily stepped forward.

The old man in black stood stiffly, as if lashed to a plank; though only his ankles were buried, he didn’t topple.

His wide dead eyes stared unblinking, a signpost proclaiming that beyond this point was no longer human ground but the dominion of the eerie.

As the players neared, a reek of blood and rot surged; the elder’s wrinkled skin dissolved like wet paint, revealing yellowed straw beneath—his body had been frame-and-flesh made of Scarecrow, merely cloaked in human skin.

The skin dissolved in seconds. Not a drop of blood fell, not a trace remained—evaporated as if by the sun, vanished into thin air. All that stood before the players now was a Scarecrow draped in black cloth, ramrod-straight.

Drawing nearer, they realized the Bamboo Forest wasn’t all bamboo. Every few paces stood a Scarecrow as gaunt and upright as the old man’s remains—spindly things easy to mistake for stalks at a distance.

Wind sighed between the poles; the Scarecrows pivoted in unison until every blank face regarded Lin Chen and Tang Yu, as if appraising uninvited guests.

“Something’s wrong here—let’s double back,” Tang Yu said, tugging Lin Chen a few steps.

His back met something soft. He spun around: the clear path behind them had sprouted a Scarecrow sporting a crimson grin, arms wedged between bamboo shafts, blocking retreat.

Worse, every direction was now walled by Scarecrows.

Each figure stretched its arms, hooking them to the bamboo, forming a living palisade that penned the players in.

To leave town they had to exit the Bamboo Forest; to exit the forest they had to breach the Scarecrows’ cordon.

Hack them down or duck beneath their arms—yet only a fool couldn’t sense the menace. Who knew what lethal trigger might lie in rash action?

At last Tang Yu understood why the scholar had dared let them follow the funeral out of town—he was certain they’d never get back.

“Lin Ya, got any combat-leaning items? Ready them,” Tang Yu said, drawing his saber toward the nearest Scarecrow. “No reckless moves—stay sharp.”

“Mm-hmm! Three combat items: two summons, one unknown.”

The moment they’d entered the forest, Lin Chen had produced the black umbrella from his inventory as insurance.

Now he and Tang Yu stood back-to-back, opening the umbrella like a shield while pinging Qi Si.

The umbrella was sturdy enough to serve as a bulwark; in a pinch he could trigger its effect and have the Shadow Ghost spirit them out—

“Lin Chen, don’t use items—especially that Umbrella Filled with Pain,” Qi Si’s cool voice slid into his mind, as if reading his intent. “I have theories about this instance; tonight I may need its effect for verification. If it’s on cooldown, we’re hamstrung.”

Lin Chen understood.

Summoning the Shadow Ghost carried a twenty-four-hour cooldown; pop it now and they’d wait until this hour tomorrow—an eternity of variables.

If Qi Si needed to test something after dark, he might be forced to stall a full day—who knew what would surface by then?

Skip the Umbrella Filled with Pain—how about the Psychiatrist’s Case Notes? Both were summons; how different could they be? …Could a lunatic’s ghost really handle this eerie siege?

Surveying the silent, oppressive Scarecrow ranks, Lin Chen had his doubts.

“Lin Ya, pick any direction—break through,” Tang Yu said, voice hard.

In his mind Qi Si’s tone stayed flat: “Lin Chen, stay put. I’m almost there.”

The way in had vanished; all that remained was bamboo and Scarecrows.

“Heh-heh-heh…” shrill laughter bled from straw-stuffed torsos, the crimson smiles making it doubly ghastly.

Lantern tucked under one arm, umbrella in hand, case notes in the other, Lin Chen glanced sideways at Tang Yu.

Tang Yu had already stepped forward, beads of sweat drying in the wind.

He was gambling—no clue if his chosen path was right, only that lingering spelled doom.

“Lin Ya, what are you waiting for? Move!” Tang Yu barked, seeing him frozen.

Lin Chen fingered the Not-So-Ordinary Blade in his pocket, feet planted in refusal.

Tang Yu cocked his head, frown deep. “Did Lin Wen tell you to stay? Is that it?”

What—did Tang Yu know something?

Lin Chen’s heart lurched; he looked up as the youth continued: “I studied criminal profiling. Your act stinks—you obviously know him. Came in together, didn’t you?”

Lin Chen pressed his lips, silent assent.

Tang Yu gave a strange look. “I’ve no gripe with Lin Wen, but he’s clueless and barking orders from afar—he doesn’t care if you live or die.”

“Advice: burn whatever item keeps you breathing. You only die once—then it’s game over.”

At the same time Qi Si spoke again: “Lin Chen, you’re my guild leader, the only one I trust.

“I won’t demand blind faith, but you know me—I hate hassle and expense. I’ve no wish to groom another teammate and fork out five thousand points.

“So whatever happens, I’ll keep you alive and drag you to the finale.”

The words scattered on the wind—ghost-soft yet soul-shaking.

Head lowered, Lin Chen slid the umbrella back into inventory, leaving only the case notes open to a page ready to tear out.

“Damn—was I talking to myself?” Tang Yu hacked a bamboo stalk, then saw the umbrella vanish. “Fine, your funeral… Just how much do you trust that guy?”

Since Tang Yu had seen through him, Lin Chen’s mind was mush—yet he still clung to the alibi he and Qi Si had cooked up at spawn.

After a dazed pause he mumbled, “Lin Wen’s my cousin.”

Tang Yu: “Then forget I said anything.”

Several bamboo shafts toppled, revealing a narrow path instantly plugged by fresh Scarecrows.

The things giggled, blood-red smiles bobbing as they hopped closer, stabbing shallow pits into the earth.

Lin Chen tore a sheet from the case notes and flicked it forward.

【“Psychiatrist’s Case Notes” Effect 1: “Randomly summon a patient’s ghost for 30s” has activated.】

The page disintegrated into snowy powder, coalescing into the translucent figure of a middle-aged man in a hospital gown.

He squatted frog-like, timidly swiveling his head—then screamed “Ghosts!” and vanished with a squeak.

Lin Chen: “…”

Tang Yu howled: “Lin Ya, is that joke item for real?!”

Scarecrows: “Heh-heh… heh-heh…”

A gust of bleak wind swept through, shaking bamboo leaves that settled on the players like snow.

Brushing leaves from his eyes, Lin Chen glimpsed small white pebbles scattered across the ground, leading forward like breadcrumbs.

A vision flashed: last night, lost in the forest, he’d followed such stones to escape… “Lin Ya, I’m here—I see you,” a crisp voice drifted through mountain mist.

This time the sound was clearer, no longer a mental whisper but real air-borne speech.

Lin Chen turned toward the voice.

The path reappeared, every half-step marked by a lustrous white stone.

At the end of that stone trail a figure in red stood poised like a signpost, radiant against the gloom.