Chapter Index

    “What did you see?” “Yuan” asked with a smile.

    Dong Xiwen was having a dream. Rolling fog in the dream hid every irrelevant sight; he pushed the haze aside and looked around, finding only a low stone table floating in the void, while he in pajamas sat opposite “Yuan,” who was dressed in a sharp suit.

    The phantom of his long-dead younger brother drifted behind him, silent as a ghost.

    His gaze uncontrollably shifted downward, switching from a god’s-eye view to a first-person limited perspective—like a soul being poured back into its body.

    Seated on the stone stool, Dong Xiwen squinted at the leisurely “Yuan” and asked, “I showed up in this godforsaken place because of that jade pendant, right?”

    “Yuan” nodded. “Yes.”

    More thoughts streamed straight into his body as awareness, bypassing language entirely.

    From them Dong Xiwen understood plenty: what “Yuan” wanted to know, and that he was now having a dream no third person could ever learn of—even if he tried to recount it, no one else would be able to receive the information.

    Dong Xiwen gave an “oh” that looked as uncomfortable as constipation, paused two seconds, and said, “A white mask, hollowed eyes and mouth, shaped like a smiling face, with gold patterns on it.”

    He exhaled. “Actually, White Crow didn’t avoid people; you could ask just about anyone and get the same answer.”

    “Yuan” didn’t reply; he simply remarked, “Much as I expected—she really did go to fetch ‘that thing.’ Going to such lengths just to send a message; she’s really put herself out.”

    Dong Xiwen raised an eyebrow. “Boss, can you stop talking in riddles? How about spelling it out?”

    “That was the first anomaly the Eerie Game ever released into reality; it directly wiped out the most powerful resistance organization back when the Federation was founded.” “Yuan’s” smile was gentle, revealing no real emotion. “Ironically, the mask was personally brought out of the Eerie Game by that organization’s second-in-command, intending it for their leader whom followers deemed a ‘god.’”

    “Sounds like an internal fight…” Dong Xiwen’s expression turned grave. “They hadn’t even won the war and already started celebrating—popping champagne at halftime?”

    “No.” “Yuan” shook his head. “Curbing theocracy and restructuring the faction was a joint decision, and under those internal and external pressures it was urgent. After all, to most thinking people, ‘religion can be a means, but it must never be the goal.’”

    “Pity they overestimated human reason and underestimated divine malice.”

    …April 17. The Eerie Game forum’s online user count hit a new peak, with eye-catching posts springing up nonstop.

    A prediction thread rocketed to the hot list, only to vanish in less than five minutes.

    Luckily, many people took screenshots and spread them everywhere; the moderators couldn’t silence everyone in time, so more and more users saw the content.

    #The major guilds are holding another meet-up in Ruins of the Sunset; here’s my forecast of the agenda#

    The poster was a fairly well-known theory-oriented player nicknamed “Er Yi,” unaffiliated with any guild and not on the guest list, yet he seemed to have his own informants.

    He wrote in the main post:

    “The annual Guild Exchange Conference used to be of no interest to me; in my view it was nothing more than a Ritual where vested interests carved up the cake. This year, however, is probably different, so I’m making this thread—partly to draw more attention, partly in hopes that friends in the know will generously share some intel.”

    “As everyone knows, the Eerie Game has been in our world for thirty-six years. We all understand that clearing the Final Dungeon will end everything, yet from existing records no one has ever entered it—otherwise at least a word would have survived. Right now, though, I think the Final Dungeon may be about to open.”

    “In the past month the te clearance rate has risen a full fifty percent compared with before, the highest in thirty-six years. In a short span two instances have been permanently shut down, apparently destroyed by players through violent means.”

    “According to rookie rank statistics, among the latest batch of a hundred newcomers, as many as thirty-one are potential standouts. (We usually treat the top ten as players who’ve cleared ten instances, ranks 11–20 as those who’ve cleared nine, and so on. Players whose cleared-instance count is lower than the typical number for their bracket are labeled ‘potential.’)”

    “The last time we saw such a boom was twenty-two years ago—the year ‘Twilight of the Gods’ happened. Everyone should remember that was our closest shot at defeating the Eerie Game; if not for the sky-falling fire that decimated our forces, the Final Dungeon would likely have been opened and cleared.”

    “If even an individual like me can detect anomalies by studying the steles, I’m sure the major guilds led by Jiuzhou Guild have also noticed those unusual figures. Therefore I predict the conference theme will be ‘Jointly Clear the Final Dungeon,’ with sub-topics likely as follows:”

    “1. Strengthen cooperation among guilds, muster the strongest members to form a five-to-seven-player team, and train in advance for the Final Dungeon (rumor: Jiuzhou Guild and Tingfeng have already mastered the tech to craft group-entry items);”

    “2. Each guild will scramble to absorb promising newcomers while tightening internal ties, building several squads of comparable strength as reserves;”

    “3. Release selected internal information on a case-by-case basis, revealing some low-secrecy intel possibly related to gods, gui-yi-ru-qin (homophone to dodge filters), and the Identity Card.”

    The most crucial info in the thread is undoubtedly in the last three lines.

    In this era, many people are trapped in information cocoons and lack the ability to gather intel actively, so they can only grope about within what they already know.

    Even though much information is public and can be found with a quick search, most won’t bother to look before they form a concept of it.

    After being dragged into the Eerie Game, they finally stumble into a forum of fellow sufferers; the first pinned primer they see, they naturally treat as gospel.

    That primer happens to be fairly comprehensive, covering most situations they’ll encounter. Over time, out of mental inertia, they take its framework as reality and the whole picture.

    To their stereotyped minds, ‘group items’ are tools only Slaughter-path players like Sera use—gadgets for ganging up on victims; the Identity Card is a scrapped early-game design, utterly worthless.

    Twilight of the Gods and the Eerie Invasion are terms they’ve never even heard.

    They were still half-believing when the forum admin deleted the thread and banned everyone involved, stamping those posts with a seal of authenticity.

    In the past, wild superstition threads were everywhere—why didn’t you delete those? The moment this one hit the trending list it was nuked; afraid it spilled heavenly secrets?

    People love what’s forbidden; the more it’s hidden, the more they want it. Some busybody even DM’d the screenshots to every passer-by who’d shown their face.

    By noon, almost every active forum-goer had saved a copy of that thread.

    New information flooded in, and the phrase “eerie incursion” grabbed every eye.

    A post from twenty-seven years ago was dug up:

    【My girlfriend vanished near Shuangxi Town, Pengcheng. I’m sure it’s linked to the Eerie Game! But she wasn’t a player—I can’t reach her! I called the police; they don’t believe me, say I’m spreading rumors. Yet I know plenty of others disappeared there too—it has to be eerie! You all know the Eerie Game exists—please, if anyone’s nearby, help me testify. At least make them believe me and search the area…】

    Dusty old events had their sandy veil blown away; in moments, threads containing “Shuangxi Town” sprouted like bamboo after rain.

    #Anyone know that OP in real life? Is the Shuangxi thing legit?#

    #I live in Pengcheng—there really is a block sealed off by a cement wall. Could that be Shuangxi Town inside?#

    #After all these years, why hasn’t “Shuangxi Town” been blown up? Any big shot willing to raid it?#

    Important clues were quickly buried under verbal garbage… In a studio apartment, Southern Ning Province, Liu Yuhan sat at her desk, shoveling dried fish into her mouth with her left hand while her right clicked the mouse, revisiting bookmarked threads.

    She didn’t care about the forum’s hot takes on eerie incursion or Shuangxi Town. For theory-crafters like her, those secrets were old news; their sudden appearance wasn’t admin oversight—someone upstairs simply wanted the masses to learn certain things.

    People joke the world’s a slap-dash stage, but anyone who can hold a critical post for ten years without a slip is no fool.

    If the powers that be want something kept quiet, even censors can’t let a single homophone slip through.

    In the past, plenty of posts guessed major secrets; admins usually looked away, letting them drown among tinfoil-hat rants the herd dismissed as rumor or mysticism.

    Deleting threads and banning users is the dumbest move—so dumb it looks staged, which means it’s intentional.

    Liu Yuhan muted the endless pings and calmly sifted through her bookmarks for every scrap on 【Lin Chen】.

    “The instant Lin Chen scored te clearance in the Wraith instance, thirteen guilds—including Youyu, Pansy, and Unnamed—saw rank jumps, with Unnamed Guild the prime suspect.”

    “Qi Si and Lin Chen were teammates; Unnamed’s Vice Guild Master ‘Si Qi’ was an alias he used. Lin Chen is almost certainly the guild leader ‘Lin Crow’.”

    “Solo-clearing a brutal instance like Wraith rules out the idea he’s Qi Si’s puppet. Anyone bold enough to boss Qi Si around is probably even tougher.”

    “Strong enough to ignore being hunted, he set a nickname on the boards… arrogant and theatrical. If I tail him, I might net more intel on Qi Si.”

    “After Wraith ended, no expose or death posts appeared—he may have a Contract-like power to gag players. Soul Contract is unique and confirmed Qi Si’s, so Lin Chen’s is likely ‘Oath’ or similar.”

    “Wait…”

    When Liu Yuhan searched “Lin Chen” again, one thread caught her eye.

    #Shock! That guy “Lin Chen” just nuked TWO instances in a row!#

    She clicked in; the OP laid it out point by point:

    【As a rank buff, I log into Ruins of the Sunset daily to log rookie and overall boards. Comparing data, I made a startling find.】

    【Today a ruthless man named “Lin Chen” blew up the dreaded Wraith instance. I combed his timestamps—he enters an instance every seven days, not a day off.】

    【Since becoming a formal player, he’s cleared five instances—thirty-five days total. And as we all know, Carnivore was nuked exactly thirty-five days ago.】

    【Same savage style, such perfect timing—has Boss Lin Chen finally shown his hand? I’m hooked. Type “+3” and I’ll keep tailing him, updating this thread—】

    Liu Yuhan finished reading, lost in thought, dried fish forgotten between her teeth.

    “I’d probably been wrong from the start. Blinded by bias, I crowned Qi Si king and overlooked the unremarkable Lin Chen.”

    “No wonder when I submitted my evidence, Qi Si only sneered. He wasn’t breaching a Contract—my reasoning was simply inside-out.”

    “Only three survived Rose Manor. For Lin Chen to live through the Novice Pool’s hardest map and earn the respect of a teammate like Qi Si—who casually slays allies—his strength must rival or surpass Qi Si, forcing cooperation.”

    “He also knows Chang Xu. Arrogant and dramatic, yet as a cunning Slaughter-path player still growing, posing as ‘Chang Xu’ in Carnivore made perfect sense.”

    “Cautious Qi Si only picks random aliases—Cheng An, Si Qi. Only someone as arrogant as Lin Chen would lazily borrow a real player’s name, choosing the most distinctive one for kicks.”

    “Among the top thirty rookies there’s no asterisk; up to fifty, most are Jiuzhou Guild members I know inside-out. Qi Si’s likely beyond rank fifty—strong, but capped. Lin Chen is the real powerhouse.”

    “Next, I just need to dig up Carnivore’s final clearance log and compare to confirm my hunch.”

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