Chapter Forty: Eating Meat (Part 12) - Attending the Banquet

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The players formed a circle around the well, craning their necks to peer down. The cover, which had borne the words “A God Dwells Within,” had vanished, leaving them with nothing but a darkness below that seemed capable of swallowing anything.

For several fleeting moments, a narrow streak of golden light appeared to flash past—like a taut chain, or a long golden serpent.

Zhang Licai clapped his hands. “Good Lord, there’s something huge down there. Don’t tell me we have to climb in after it?”

Zhao Feng narrowed his eyes. “Now that you mention it, the mechanisms in some ancient tombs are built to look like well mouths. I’ve seen plenty of them in the real world…”

“You two big men talk too much. If you’re going down, then go!” The tattooed woman shot them a sidelong glance and muttered, “I’m not afraid, anyway. If you really want to know what’s down there, let’s all go together.”

“I think I’ll pass.” Zhang Licai gave an awkward laugh. “With my build, I’d probably get stuck halfway down. Then none of you would be able to get down or back up.”

Standing at the edge of the group, Qi Si watched the bony back of one of the players and suddenly felt an urge to give him a push, just to see what would happen.

A-Xi had tossed Zhao Feng’s piece of flesh into the well and visibly benefited from it. So what would happen if they pushed a living person down instead?

Qi Si lifted his eyes and saw Zhou Yilin seemingly casting him a sidelong glance. Across from him, Allen stood tall and broad-shouldered; with the slightest lift of his eyes, he could take in Qi Si’s every movement.

Regretfully, Qi Si slipped his hand into his pocket and said softly, “Could this well be the exit from this instance? I’ve seen plenty of instances mentioned on the forums where the exit was a well or a cellar.”

“Maybe.” The thin man standing in front of him agreed. “If that’s true, it would be great. I really don’t want to stay here any longer.”

Every theory had some logic and evidence behind it. Without more definite clues, no one dared climb into the well, and in the end, the players could reach no conclusion.

Yang Yundong said calmly, “Let’s go to the village chief’s house first and deal with the matter of the divine flesh. We can think about everything else afterward. The task is to survive for five days. We should make sure we stay alive before worrying about anything else.”

No one objected. In the end, for most people, unraveling the rules of the world ahead of time and bringing the instance to an early close were both empty hopes.

Rather than stake their lives on vague clues, they were better off thinking less about things that might or might not exist, strictly following the instance’s requirements and rules, and clearing it by the safer NE route.

“Can I stay here?” Zhou Yilin suddenly asked timidly. “I could remain behind and search the main house while Granny Su isn’t here…”

“Miss, where are you going to get your divine flesh if you don’t come?” Zhang Licai could not help urging her. “Even if the rest of us agree to it, if something happens, we might not have the time to look after your share.”

Zhou Yilin raised her hands and wiped at her eyes helplessly, her voice breaking into a sob. “I really don’t dare go out… You don’t have to worry about me. Just let me stay here, all right? I’ll do my best to search for clues!”

Leaving the main group meant a high likelihood of dying early due to being isolated and without help. Yet there was also a tiny chance that the main group would perish during its exploration, allowing the person left behind to survive and clear the instance by triggering the minimum-death-count mechanism.

Irritated, Zhao Feng raked a hand through his hair and spat on the ground. “Damn it, all you know how to do is cry. Who do you think is going to coddle you? Go if you want, or don’t. Just get lost!”

Zhou Yilin flinched at his shout, biting her lip and falling silent.

Zhu Ling stepped between her and Zhao Feng with a smile. “It’s normal for a newcomer to be frightened. Everyone’s been through it. Yilin’s already doing very well.”

Yang Yundong looked at Zhou Yilin’s reddened eyes and sighed. “Stay here if you don’t want to go. Don’t wander around, and if you encounter something you can’t make sense of, don’t act rashly.”

Without paying any further attention to the sobbing girl, he adjusted the broad saber on his back, pushed open the door, and went outside.

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Qi Si raised an objection at the appropriate moment. “Brother Yang, we should still have Yilin come with us. Everyone should advance and retreat together. With the minimum-death-count mechanism in place, it’s far safer than splitting into two groups.”

He paused, then added pointedly, “Besides, if something happens, disagreements over whether we had time to look after her could easily create unnecessary suspicion and drive a wedge through the group.”

He had borrowed the lines spoken by Shen Ming and Yezi in Rose Manor, and his attitude of putting himself in another’s place was especially persuasive.

In the uncanny game, players could never obtain all the information. Naturally, they could never trust one another completely.

Leaving Zhou Yilin alone at Granny Su’s house might cause someone to worry that she would tamper with things behind their backs, leading to one problem after another.

Yang Yundong stopped and turned to give Qi Si a long, penetrating look. “You have a point. We’ll all go to the village chief’s house together. The divine flesh is something we need for ourselves, so we should fetch it ourselves.”

Zhu Ling opened her mouth, seemingly about to say something, but the tattooed woman grabbed Zhou Yilin by the arm and hauled her out the door.

Locking an arm around her, she called out, “Little sister, what’s there to be afraid of? Your big sister’s got you covered!”

No one had any grounds to object now. With tears welling in her eyes, Zhou Yilin was dragged along like a chick in the tattooed woman’s grip, and the nine of them marched out in a grand procession.

At some point, mist had risen outside the compound. The distant landscape had been swallowed whole by billowing fog, as though repeatedly veiled beneath layers of white gauze.

The road to the western end of the village stretched vast and indistinct. Coiling clouds and smoke had joined into a seemingly solid wall, blocking the way west. By comparison, the road east was much clearer; at least the distance remained visible.

Following the main group eastward to the village chief’s house seemed to be the only choice.

A gust of wind swept past. The gate behind them slammed shut with a clang, tightly closed just as it had been when they arrived. The fallen couplets flapped wildly in the wind, their paper snapping and cracking.

The mist stirred in the air, twisting and curling into all manner of shapes, like white-clad ghosts dancing around living strangers who had wandered into the realm of the dead, preparing for a wild and ravenous feast.

“Stay close, everyone. Don’t get separated. If you run into danger, don’t panic. Come to me, and I’ll handle it.” Yang Yundong led the way, holding the broad saber horizontally in one hand and the map in the other.

The players did not dare linger, and followed one after another behind him.

The village roads wound and twisted. Dust billowed from the unpaved ground, perhaps because it had not rained in many days. The wild grass along the roadside had withered pale, devoid of life.

The crooked houses on either side were dilapidated and collapsing, huddled chaotically together in clusters like heaps of carelessly piled refuse.

Black, hollow windows were set into the walls. Yellowing plaster had peeled away in broad sheets, accumulating like old skin on the darkened ground and nourishing colonies of carrion-feeding fungi in the gloom.

The players’ formation had originally been loose, divided into several groups of two or three. It took only a short while before they unconsciously drew together.

Though their numbers were considerable, and they formed a dark, crowded mass at a glance, they did nothing to dispel the fear. In this enormous village, the only living people seemed to be the nine players.

After walking on a while longer and passing around a pond, they arrived at the location marked on the map as the village chief’s house.

The village chief’s residence was a full size larger than Granny Su’s, but it was equally decrepit. Most of the paint had flaked from the outer walls, exposing the dull brick beneath.

The roof tiles were broken and ragged. Perhaps startled by the sound of footsteps, they suddenly began sliding down in a thin patter, clattering noisily as they fell.

Beneath the jagged eaves, the mottled front door stood firmly locked, slightly misaligned so that it avoided the morning sunlight.

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Zhu Ling frowned and took several steps on either side of the entrance. “Facing south with its back to the north, near water and in shadow—the feng shui of this house is abysmal. Even the most incompetent geomancer would never choose such a site.”

Zhao Feng sneered. “That may not be a residence for the living. If it’s a tomb, the feng shui is excellent. The dead are meant to live away from the light.”

Allen, listening nearby, leaned his head toward them. “Eastern geomancy! Cool! I’ve always wanted to study it!”

Qi Si knew little about feng shui. He had glanced over it a few times at a friend’s place, but had never been especially interested.

He walked to the door and examined the lock. It was an ordinary mechanical lock. Rust had crept into the keyhole, but it could still be opened.

So, just as Yang Yundong was preparing to kick the door down, Qi Si pushed him aside, drew a piece of wire from his bracelet, and inserted it into the lock.

The padlock clicked open and fell to the ground. Even Yang Yundong’s gaze grew several shades deeper.

Qi Si took a step back and ushered Yang Yundong forward. “Brother Yang, after you.”

Yang Yundong gave a slight nod and pushed the door open.

The other players followed several steps behind. Only after seeing that nothing had happened to Yang Yundong at the front did they dare creep over the threshold.

The compound seemed to have been uninhabited for a very long time. The enormous black canopy overhead, meant to shield the courtyard from the sun, sagged loosely, as though it might collapse under its own weight at any moment and drift down like a silkworm’s shed skin.

Strangely, the aged canopy still blocked the light remarkably well. Its vast shadow covered the entire courtyard. Frost-white weeds grew wantonly through the cracks in the ground, bearing strange dewdrops that clustered thickly like eyes.

The low buildings on either side had long since collapsed, leaving broken bricks scattered everywhere. They creaked and grated beneath the players’ feet. Only the main house facing the entrance remained intact. Its windows had been pasted over with paper, making it impossible to see inside.

Yang Yundong gripped his broad saber and advanced step by step toward the main house.

Qi Si held a blade between two fingers and followed close behind.

A faint stench of blood and decay hung in the air. The wind carried strange notes, like a damaged bamboo flute screaming out shrill, agonized glissandos.

Qi Si suddenly heard his own heart pounding. Without rhyme or reason, he realized that he was afraid.

An emotion absent for so long had been forced into the depths of his heart, brutally and without appeal—like a beast in the jungle encountering its natural predator. Every cell trembled. Terror etched into his genes stirred his instincts, shrieking at him to run, to flee…

Yet that fear did not belong to him. He did not even know its cause or how it had arisen, and still his body had produced the corresponding physiological response.

In the upper-right corner of his vision, the red-and-black identity tag flashed wildly. Tentacles and gray mist surged and rolled like a tide, while the scarlet eyes scattered among them blinked in and out like flowers opening and closing.

He heard someone speaking. Countless voices converged into one, all saying the same words—

“Let’s eat Him,” they said.

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