chapter 265 – Wraith (12): Too Hasty for a Burial

“Don’t get too close.” The scholar warned, yet his feet stayed rooted, not following the players.

By Yanghua Town’s rules, as a resident he had to keep out of sight while the bearers carried the dead beyond the town limits.

Only players were allowed to follow the paper figures out for a look.

Four paper figures on donkeys bore the Old Man’s corpse, bobbing in unison like a boat on a choppy sea as they drifted down the street.

Yanghua’s roads ran mostly east–west; the players’ Residence sat in the west, so the cortege headed east, away from their lodgings.

The group trailed the procession at a distance until voices and cooking-smoke were left behind; turning back, they saw only a mass of roof-lines.

The townsfolk looked like ants in the dirt, swallowed by deeper shadows, impossible to spot.

The paper figures stayed ten zhangs ahead, vague white specks adrift in the blue-black lanes; the houses faded like ink-wash, leaving only those paper shapes, vivid as ghost-fires.

Lin Chen walked between Qi Si and Tang Yu, whispering, “Brother Lin, Brother Tang, are we really following them out of town? Feels like unfamiliar ground—something bad might happen…”

Tang Yu, lantern in one hand, the other on his saber, shrugged. “Fortune favours the bold. A death, a funeral—this is obviously a key scene with vital clues; we can’t miss it.”

“And don’t forget: the only reason we’re still stuck bargaining with these people is we can’t find the way out. If we can leave with them, even if it doesn’t solve everything, it should push Teacher Luo’s quest forward.”

Ever since the players entered Yanghua, the road marked by the archway had vanished; the Luo couple’s main quest bluntly told them in the system interface to locate a way out of Yanghua Town.

If the paper figures could really show them the exit, it would be a huge win.

“Will the game let us leave that easily?” Lin Chen doubted. “Even if we find the road out, to stop us breezing through, some death-flag will jump out and block us.”

“No harm if we can’t leave—it’s still daytime.” Qi Si flexed his left wrist; the white paper lantern on its pole swayed overhead.

“Wraiths only move at night, and the townsfolk have their Contract with the Mountain God; daylight’s usually safe. Even if something happens, Tang Yu and I can handle it.”

He lifted an eyelid toward Tang Yu. “I’m ranked on the rookie rank; as for you, Tang Yu, if I recall you’re a core member of Jiuzhou Guild. Anyone who can hold a place in a top guild can surely survive day-two death-spots.”

Eerie Game instances are phased. The first third is generally calm, meant to let players adapt and absorb the setting.

The middle third brings death-points with around fifty percent mortality: they start culling players toward the minimum quota while handing out clearer clues so the survivors can crack the world-view faster.

In the final third players die in droves; those caught by death-points have no way out. Whoever lives either hits the minimum-death trigger or finishes the main quest in a last-second clear.

So players chasing MVP or True-End records often play aggressively early, hoarding valid clues—unable to crack the world-view, they at least make sure they know more than the rest and stand a better chance of lasting to the end.

Tang Yu glanced sideways at Qi Si, eyes narrowing. “You’ve heard of me? Or… you know me?”

“I watched your stream,” Qi Si said. “I caught a bit of the Foggy Town run; you teamed with a young woman and urged her to join your guild.”

Jiuzhou stresses mutual benefit and transparency; core members must stream frequently—‘subject to supervision’, they call it.

Qi Si retold what he’d seen in Liu Yuhan’s soul-leaf from a different angle and chuckled: “You didn’t mention being Jiuzhou when you introduced yourself; I figured there was some reason and pretended not to know you.”

“But now it looks like you’re not that keen on hiding your style.”

Tang Yu relaxed with a wry smile. “No big secret—I messed up and got kicked out. Too embarrassing to bring up.”

Qi Si raised a brow. “Expulsion? I thought the process was a pain whether you quit or get removed.”

Tang Yu sighed. “Pain or not, rules are rules. Last instance I accidentally hurt a teammate—pretty serious.”

“Sounds like Jiuzhou really is as strict as they say.” Qi Si gave a soft laugh, tone unreadable—mockery or admiration.

Tang Yu didn’t continue the topic.

Listening from the side, Lin Chen gained a fresh impression of Jiuzhou.

In Frog Hospital he’d seen players tear each other down; he felt cooperation was a lie and Jiuzhou’s slogan hollow and naive.

Yet judging by Tang Yu’s fate, Jiuzhou practiced what it preached—so strict it seemed heartless, like a utopia built by idealists, naïve but beautiful.

On Eerie Game’s zero-sum canvas such an existence felt jarring, unreal, yet like dawn-light in the night—irresistible.

The same contradictions clung to Tang Yu himself.

In clue-analysis and decision-making he came across as coolly rational, speaking calmly and logically.

But on day one he’d clashed verbally with Qiu Xin and the scholar, even sabered the Residence caretaker dead; on day two he still showed the scholar no courtesy.

A zealot who hates evil and plays favourites? Not quite—more like deliberate performance.

Which side was real? Which the mask?

The players tailed the funeral without noticing they had reached the town’s eastern edge.

Crooked wooden loomed in a ragged line, black and oppressive, their broken windows and doors creaking though no wind blew.

The paper figures moved in eerie silence, drifting like scraps on a breeze; soon the creaking lo drowned them out, reducing them to mere set-dressing, guests passing through.

Though no one was in sight, the players felt an odd pressure, as if invisible crowds pressed around them.

“That’s the Residence we stayed in.” Lin Chen was first to spot it, pointing at a row of buildings ahead. “I’ve got a knack for shapes—I’m sure these wooden lo are identical to our Residence.”

“Look at the center door: down at the left corner, exactly three stones—two at the bottom, one on top. The window on the right has a hole that’s one big tear fused to a smaller one, like a twisted gourd. And on the left…”

Lin Chen pointed out one identical detail after another; if the paper men hadn’t carried the Coffin straight through the Residence’s door, he could have listed dozens more.

Every word was meant to convince the other two that the row of wooden buildings in front of them was the very Residence the players knew.

Qi Si lacked Lin Chen’s memory, but with the Contract skill he could confirm that Lin Chen wasn’t lying.

The Cursed Pendulum slid silently from his wide sleeve and coiled once around his wrist, ready for any sudden danger.

Tang Yu seemed to recall something; he stepped forward and began scanning the ground.

Suddenly he pointed at a string of white, gleaming objects in the grass beside the door, his expression turning grim. “I remember this—after the Old Man revived last night, the keys in my hand turned into white stones and I tossed them into a corner… I never expected to see the same thing here.”

After a pause he declared with absolute certainty, “We really have come back.”

“Something’s off.” Lin Chen shook his head. “We kept walking due east without changing direction. The Residence lies due west; even allowing for the way a person drifts slightly while walking, there’s no way we could have doubled back without noticing.

Besides, all the townsfolk have vanished and the stalls are shut. It’s still broad daylight—there’s no reason for them to pack up so early. Less than half an hour has passed; they couldn’t move that fast.”

Qi Si gave a slight nod. “I also believe we haven’t returned to the original spot.”

He looked at Lin Chen. “Lin Ya, what’s your theory? Speak up; it might give us a lead.”

Lin Chen swallowed, hesitating. “Brother Lin, Brother Tang, did you notice that for a stretch the road had two identical houses?”

After that, every building we passed felt familiar—as if someone had deliberately mirrored what we’d seen before.

Those were all storefronts, and because the stalls were already closed they didn’t look as alike as the Residence. Only when I saw the Residence was I sure the déjà vu wasn’t my imagination.”

“A mirror,” Tang Yu blurted.

He paused, then went on, “The eastern and western halves of Yanghua Town are reflections of each other. I suspect the ‘mirror’ is a key element of this instance.”

I don’t know if you had the same experience, but the moment I entered this instance I saw a mirror showing my reflection for just a second before it vanished. Now I realize it was a hint.”

“I saw it too,” Lin Chen chimed in. “Right at the start a mirror flashed twice in front of me and disappeared…”

“Whether it’s a mirror or not, we’ll know once we go upstairs,” Qi Si cut their exchange short. “We left some paper and pens upstairs, didn’t we?”

While they spoke, the paper men carrying the corpse had already crossed the Residence lobby and vanished behind the wall directly ahead.

Only then did the players notice a hidden door at the base of the Residence, perfectly masked by shadow; without careful observation it was easy to miss.

Tang Yu asked, “So do we keep following those paper men out of town?”

“No conflict.” Qi Si’s tone was calm. “We split up. You’re stronger; take Lin Ya with you. I’ll go alone.”

“Choose first—upstairs or out of town?”

Hearing this, Lin Chen silently asked, “Qi… Brother Qi, aren’t we sticking together?”

Qi Si answered patiently, “I don’t trust Tang Yu. Both clues are critical; I can’t gamble that he won’t hold anything back. I need you to watch him—can you do that?”

“But…”

“Don’t worry. It’s daytime; Wraiths can’t harm anyone. Even if he tries to kill you, I’ll do everything I can to keep you alive.”

“Oh, okay!”

Tang Yu had no idea Qi Si had just branded him suspect in a private chat with Lin Chen.

After thinking it over he said, “Then Lin Ya and I will keep following the paper men. If anything dangerous happens on the way out of town we can watch each other’s backs.”

Lin Chen, now reassured, naturally had no objection.

Qi Si gave a slight nod. “Good. We’ll meet back downstairs at the Residence and exchange what we find.”

Tang Yu and Lin Chen, one behind the other, trailed the paper men and slipped through the Residence’s hidden door.

Lantern in his left hand, Qi Si gripped the Cursed Pendulum in his right and climbed the Residence stairs to the second floor.

The soft creak of boards underfoot sounded exactly like what the players had heard that morning; the same stale, decaying air filled the corridor.

Everything suggested that this building was indeed the Residence they had stayed in.

Qi Si stopped at the leftmost door on the second floor.

A heavy iron lock hung from the door, clamping it to the wall; presumably the Old Man had locked the players inside like this last night.

Qi Si pulled a thin wire from his bracelet, inserted it into the keyhole and twisted twice.

With a click the lock opened.

On the two beds inside, figures lay covered by quilts, breathing evenly in peaceful slumber.

Qi Si tightened his grip on the Cursed Pendulum and stepped softly forward until he could see their faces.

It was Luo Haihua and Luo Jianhua!

On the nightstand between the beds lay a stack of paper covered in handwriting that clearly belonged to several different people—

【’Teacher Luo, it’s Tang Yu. Lin Ya and I are still inside the instance…’】

【’Last night we kept the lantern upright, but after midnight we sensed something wrong; by then it was too late…’】

【’We’re trapped in the Past; maybe we’ll never get out…’】

…Meanwhile, Lin Chen and Tang Yu followed the paper men around the towering pile of corpses behind the Residence, treading across ground littered with bones until the dim shadow of Bamboo Forest came into view.

Countless bamboo stalks, tall and short, stood in the mist, their outlines blurred like ink strokes dripping down white paper.

Moist, cold air clung to the players, soaking their clothes; the paper men and Paper Donkey grew limp and soggy, swaying even more unsteadily.

“Hee-haw—” the Paper Donkey suddenly let out a long, hoarse bray that sounded eerily grating in the silence.

As if reminded they had arrived, the paper men slid off the donkey, grasped the corpse’s limbs, and stood it upright.

Two paper men held the corpse’s arms while two others crouched and began scooping out soil with their hands.

Lin Chen’s eyesight was good enough to make out the shapes of the paper men and the corpse.

At first he assumed they dug standing up for convenience, but after a short while the diggers rose, took the corpse, and still held it vertical.

Had they finished the hole? How big a pit could they dig in so little time?

Lin Chen stared, only to see the paper men plunge the corpse upright into the soil.

The ankles sank into the hole; two paper men braced it while the other two shoveled earth back in.

Moments later the paper men stepped away, leaving the Old Man’s corpse standing alone amid the bamboo, stiff and erect—

—just like a scarecrow in a wheat field.