Chapter One: The Eerie Invitation to the Game (Revised)

Page 1/3

The heavy body leapt forward,
And the soaring soul crashed to the ground.
— From Volume One: Spirit and Flesh

The scent of blood excites the senses.
Zis wiped the bloodstains from his face, took a deep breath, letting the rich, fresh metallic tang fill his lungs.
It had been a long time since he’d killed someone; his hands were a bit rusty, and the blood splattered farther than intended, staining the studio floor.
Of course, the floor was already dirty.
When the victim was still alive, muddy boots had tracked prints all over, leaving the place in disarray.
— The question remained: should he clean up first, or deal with the corpse first?

Zis pulled out a handkerchief, lowered his gaze, and gently wiped the blood from his blade.
Without warning, an electronic voice echoed intermittently from the depths of his mind:
[You have killed player “Liu Ajiu”… Detection indicates heavy sinfulness…]

Zis blinked and said, “He forgot to wear shoe covers after coming in.”
…

Three hours earlier, March 9, 2035, six o’clock in the evening, Jiangcheng.
As usual, Zis was nestled in his studio, examining his collection.
The studio was set in an abandoned warehouse on a quiet suburban edge, a place rarely noticed or visited.
Normally, he would pull a fine animal carcass from a formalin jar and slowly prepare it through taxidermy or immersion techniques.
But an unexpected event occurred.

Around 8:50, someone kicked open the warehouse door and burst in.
It was a disheveled man shouting “Robbery!” who pulled a gun from his pocket and harshly ordered Zis to squat.
Zis couldn’t understand why anyone would whimsically choose such a godforsaken suburban area to rob, let alone pick a dilapidated warehouse.
The prime targets for loose change were usually small shops or grocery stores in urban villages or outer city streets.
Even considering the risk-reward ratio, the best plan to avoid police attention would be to hold someone up with a knife behind an illegal bar’s back door.
Zis was certain the man was the kind he despised—an idiot deserving to be cut up and fed to pigs.
Still, weighing the pros and cons, he put on a panicked expression, raised his hands, and quickly crouched by the wall.
Compared to rude fools, Zis hated trouble even more.

Shortly after his birthday on January 1, he suddenly fainted, his soul drifting out of his body, wandering the air for a long while before returning.
Doctors called it a rare, incurable disease called “soul weightlessness.” As the illness progressed, the patient would eventually never awaken.
The doctor looked at Zis with sympathy: “Your case is extremely rare—fewer than ten confirmed worldwide. You can spend your final days doing what you want or something meaningful.”
Zis asked, “Like what?”

Page 2/3

The doctor said, “You can cooperate with our treatment and research. If we succeed in a breakthrough with you, your name will be recorded in history.”
Zis asked again, “Has anyone ever been cured?”
The doctor answered honestly, “Of course not, otherwise it wouldn’t be called incurable.”
“……”
Zis refused to sign the body donation form. Rather than a name in medical history, he preferred his name on the list of culprits in a major catastrophe.
He planned to spend his remaining three years doing what he wanted—making specimens, toying with people, even killing someone—but definitely not confronting a random robbery.
At the moment, he just hoped the man would grab the money and leave, sparing him the waste of his precious remaining life.

The man pressed the gun against Zis’s head, muttering like a madman, “Sorry, I have no choice… Tell me where the cash is!”
Although electronic payments were widespread in 2035, Zis had indeed stashed some paper bills for underground trades.
He feigned blindness and pointed deep into the studio: “Room 3, by the drain, in the corner, there’s a brown suitcase.”
The man ran toward the indicated room.
Watching his back, Zis belatedly remembered that room held some unusual specimens—definitely the kind that would scare anyone into calling the police…
Things just got more complicated.

As the man saw the room filled with human specimens and panicked toward the door, Zis had to stand, close the kicked-open warehouse door, and wrestle the bent lock closed.
Handling corpses was no easy task these days—quicklime, hydrogen peroxide, hydrofluoric acid, none were simple.
But for Zis, it wasn’t that difficult.
He had been highly skilled with his hands since childhood, with strong learning and execution abilities.
After roughly estimating the distance and assessing the risk, he drew a blade hidden inside a specially made bracelet and ambushed the man, stabbing swiftly and precisely in the vital spot, guided by his anatomical knowledge.
The man died, collapsing with blood splattered far and wide.
Zis unloaded the gun and found it was empty.
The whole thing felt absurdly darkly humorous, like the mafia putting a salted fish in a delivery package.
Zis chuckled silently.

He smiled as he cleaned the blade, smiled as he decided to deal with the body first, and smiled while planning how to dispose of the corpse.
Yes, break the limbs, bend them into a transportable shape, stuff them into a suitcase, and send them off to their destined place…
…

[You have killed player “Liu Ajiu.” You may choose whether to inherit his game qualifications first.]
The electronic voice returned, emotionless, followed by a curling gray mist filling the space.
Zis raised an eyebrow and scanned the surroundings.
In front of the man, a black metal card slowly materialized, faintly suspended in the air.
The card was embossed with gilded patterns that, when examined closely, revealed the branches of a giant tree, flowing with light as if alive.
Zis dropped his handkerchief, bent down, and picked up the metal card with two fingers.

Page 3/3

Silver-white letters appeared in the void:
[Mysterious Game Invitation]
Mysterious game? What was that?
Zis’s gaze lingered on the unfamiliar term.
As if sensing his doubt, countless non-narrative pieces of information bypassed cognition and entered his mind.
The Mysterious Game was created by an entity called “The Rules,” which selected eligible players worldwide and thrust them into levels filled with eerie and supernatural tales, to solve puzzles and complete missions.
It was a deadly game full of ghosts and monsters; failing a mission or dying in a level would erase the player’s existence in the real world.
Yet danger and opportunity coexisted. Players who successfully cleared levels earned massive points; with enough points, any wish could be granted.

[Do you wish to become a player and enter the Mysterious Game?]
The invitation’s chill seeped into Zis’s fingertips. He withdrew his hand, instinctively tapping his chin with his index finger.
Just after being diagnosed with an incurable disease, he encountered a sudden supernatural force—it felt like fate’s meticulous design.
Together with the absurd series of events before, it all seemed like the grand overture to a magnificent drama’s opening act.
With doubts swirling and the road ahead uncertain, should he accept the invitation or hesitate on the spot?

[In the Mysterious Game, you can obtain anything you desire—wealth, power, health—all at your fingertips.]
[Your only challenge is to face and overcome your fear of the mysterious.]
The new silver-white text was as tempting as it could be.
Zis lifted his eyelids and asked, “How many points does a wish to cure an incurable disease usually require? How many levels would I need to clear?”
[Sign the contract; you will know when the time is right.]
“I know very little about this so-called ‘Mysterious Game.’ Can I decide in a few days?”
[Please decide within five minutes. Otherwise, you will forfeit the qualification; all game-related memories will be erased, and you will never be chosen as a player again.]
Emphasizing the timeliness and exclusivity of the opportunity was a typical method of fraud or inducement, like a trap or a scam.
But Zis thought, with only three years left to live, even a total loss wouldn’t cost him much.
If the reward was valuable enough, he could do anything—even break laws and morals, let alone stake his entire fortune on the game.
Dying torn apart or living worse than death in the game was still better than the dull death of illness.
At least he would have an interesting experience at the end of his life, wouldn’t he?

In the void, a glowing prompt board appeared.
Zis smiled and read aloud the words: “I agree to become a player and enter the Mysterious Game.”
[Contract signed. Player information loaded.]
[Level loading… Load complete.]