Yu Huaiting twirled the sword in a flourish and slung it behind his back. Not the least bit abashed at being criticized, he leaned close to Fu Songcheng with a roguish grin. “How can you say zero effect? At the very least, Teacher Fu got to enjoy a flawless Huaiting sword dance up close. Handsome or not?”
Fu Songcheng was laughed into anger and flicked his forehead. “You and your glib tongue.”
The female ghost: I’m still here!
The yin energy intensified, about to envelop Fu Songcheng and Yu Huaiting.
Clearly the two flirting regardless of the occasion had enraged the female ghost. She shrieked and lunged at the two, passing through them and melting into the air.
“She’s probably marked us.”
Fu Songcheng looked somewhat troubled—though in truth, his brows hadn’t even furrowed.
“She has no physical body, so we can’t attack her, and she can’t attack us either. There must be some restriction. Keep it in mind—no need to bother with her for now.”
Yu Huaiting nodded. The two searched the third floor again; apart from the newspaper-sealed glass window, they found no other clues.
“Where to next?” Yu Huaiting turned and asked. “Where do we go now? Up or down?”
“Either works.” Fu Songcheng withdrew his gaze. “Do you need me to teach you this too, silly dog?”
“A man who listens to his wife has good luck.”
Fu Songcheng unceremoniously rapped his head. Yu Huaiting immediately changed his tune.
“A puppy who listens to his gege has good luck.”
The bullet comments in the Source Star livestream room froze for an instant, then thoroughly exploded.
[??? They call this an A-rank horror instance?]
[The female ghost is right in their face! And Yu Huaiting is still asking his wife whether his sword twirl was handsome?!]
[What kind of inhuman psychological fortitude is this? A normal person, even knowing it’s an illusion, would be scared weak in the knees!]
[That ‘ignore it, it’s useless’ look from Fu Songcheng—I felt embarrassed for the female ghost through the screen…]
[I can’t take it—so satisfying, so satisfying.]
Arriving at the first floor, the environment was even darker and damper than the third.
The heavy iron gate at the building’s exit was welded dead shut with several thick steel bars—utterly impossible to open.
At either end of the corridor was a tightly shut door. Beyond that, at the very end of the first floor, was a small open-air courtyard garden. Looking up from here, one could see the corridor structures of every floor above, like the bottom of a deep well.
The two walked to one of the doors, and Fu Songcheng reached out and knocked.
Knock, knock, knock.
Apart from a dull echo, no one answered.
Fu Songcheng took a step back, turned, and gave Yu Huaiting a look, his chin lifting slightly toward the door. “Leave it to you.”
This was clearly a signal for a violent break-in.
Yu Huaiting understood and bared his teeth in a cruel grin. He didn’t even use his sword—he raised a long leg and kicked viciously at the keyhole.
Bang!
With a huge crash, the wooden door frame shattered instantly, the entire door collapsing with a roar.
The two stepped over the door panel and entered the room.
The living room was empty, but through the half-open bedroom door, a faint, unusual presence could be sensed.
Yu Huaiting kicked the bedroom door open, his gaze sweeping the room like lightning, finally locking onto the large old-fashioned wardrobe in the corner.
He walked over and yanked the wardrobe door open.
“Don’t kill me! Don’t kill me!”
Curled up in the wardrobe was a young man trembling all over, hands clutching his head, shakily begging for mercy in a low voice.
Fu Songcheng frowned slightly. An A-rank instance shouldn’t have players like this.
He gave Yu Huaiting a look. Yu Huaiting was just about to interrogate this player.
Just then, an extremely eerie sound of footsteps suddenly rang out inside the room.
Tap… tap… tap…
The sound was neither near nor far, its rhythm extremely even, like someone in hard-soled leather shoes strolling leisurely in the next room.
Accompanying the footsteps, a woman’s mournful, plaintive humming echoed between the walls.
“Together in life… together in death… on the road to the Yellow Springs… not lonely…”
The melody wound and turned, carrying a bone-chilling sorrow, as if sung right against one’s scalp.
Hearing this sound, the man in the wardrobe went deathly pale, gasping for breath, both hands clamped dead over his ears—his mind seemed on the verge of collapse.
When he finally recovered a bit of composure and looked up, he met two pairs of utterly unrippled eyes.
Fu Songcheng looked down at him and began today’s second lesson.
“Huaiting, remember this. In survival-type instances, as long as it’s not explicitly stated to be a faction confrontation, then upon meeting other players, the first thing is to verify the other’s identity and detailed information as much as possible.”
Fu Songcheng’s voice sounded especially clear and cold amid the mournful singing. “Information is the chip for survival.”
Yu Huaiting nodded, indicating he’d learned his lesson.
Then he stepped forward and, with a fluid motion, drew his long sword, pressing the blade directly against the carotid artery of the man on the floor.
The cold metallic touch made the man go rigid all over.
Yu Huaiting crouched down, smiling with utmost amiability, his voice even somewhat gentle: “Don’t be nervous. I have a good temper. Now, I ask, you answer. Your name, your identity in this instance, and—what did you see hiding in the wardrobe just now?”
Feeling the razor-sharp edge that could cut a hair by mere breath against his neck, the man swallowed, his voice trembling like sifted chaff: “I… my name is Fang Yu! My identity is the tenant of 102 on the first floor. The moment I entered the instance I was in this room, then I heard the sound of a door being smashed outside, I thought it was a monster, so I hid in here…”
Tap… tap… tap…
The footsteps in the next room suddenly grew heavier, and began approaching the wall where they were.
That mournful singing too grew clearer and clearer, more and more shrill.
“She… she’s coming! That crazy woman is coming!”
Fang Yu was so frightened he curled into a ball, instinctively wanting to crawl under the bed.
Fu Songcheng and Yu Huaiting exchanged a glance. Neither showed the slightest fear—instead, a fighting spirit rose in tacit understanding.
The two turned at the same time, pressing close to the bedroom doorframe left and right, like two leopards lurking in the dark.
Fu Songcheng shot Fang Yu a cold glance, warning him not to make a sound.
Then he placed his hand on the doorknob, feeling the waves of yin chill coming from outside, rapidly calculating in his mind.
“Ready?”
Fu Songcheng asked Yu Huaiting with his eyes.
Yu Huaiting tightened his grip on the sword hilt, unable to hide the excitement in his eyes, and nodded hard.
The footsteps outside finally stopped before the bedroom door.
Thud, thud, thud.
Heavier than knocking—banging against the wooden door, one thud after another.
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