Chapter 38

Zhu Di felt as if she were dreaming—a bizarre, grotesque, and somewhat eerie dream.

During the day, Zhu Di had gone on a double date with her best friend and their respective boyfriends.

After returning home that night, she dreamed that the four of them were out together again, having arrived at a strange, abandoned town built in an ancient style.

In the dream, the four of them walked along the town’s flagstone paths like sleepwalkers, crossing a stone bridge to the other side of the river.

Eventually, they came to a sinister-looking opera stage and sat down, watching six bald men perform a play.

It was too strange, simply too strange. Why would she have a dream like this?

Zhu Di only remembered that during their date that day, they had encountered someone in a bear mascot costume handing out flyers.

Thinking about how the person inside had to work in such thick clothing despite the heat, Zhu Di hadn’t had the heart to refuse. She accepted four flyers from the bear for an ancient-style tourist town.

Then, that night, she dreamed of this very town.

However, compared to the tourist town on the flyer, the town in her dream was far too dilapidated and unsettling.

Setting aside the ancient residences that looked like haunted houses and the terrifying paper dolls carrying lanterns as they moved slowly through the streets, the most desperate part was that she could not control her own body in this town.

The four of them had been led to the audience seats of the opera stage like marionettes on strings. Now, it was as if she were experiencing sleep paralysis; she sat in her chair completely unable to move, unable to even lift a finger. She could only watch helplessly as those six bald men performed ridiculous antics on the stage.

In truth, those six bald men had originally been sitting in the audience just like them. But after the sound of a gong, the six of them had stood up and walked onto the stage with stiff, jerky movements.

Once they were on stage, the white curtains tied up on either side suddenly dropped.

When the curtains were automatically drawn up again and Zhu Di saw the appearance of the people standing on stage, she nearly burst out laughing despite her fear of the eerie situation.

It was too farcical. The six bald men had put on opera costumes, but the outfits were clearly ill-fitting, looking as though they had been forced into them.

These bald men were all quite tall and sturdy. With the costumes squeezed onto them, their bodies bulged out in rolls of fat, making them look exactly like the white mascot for Michelin tires.

However, despite the poor fit, the characteristics of the opera costumes were distinct. Combined with the unique makeup painted on the bald men’s faces, even someone like Zhu Di, who wasn’t familiar with traditional opera, could tell at a glance which roles they were playing.

Four of them were dressed as an old woman, a young woman, a young man skilled in martial arts, and a man with a large patch of white paint in the middle of his face—his makeup looked ridiculous, like a clown.

Of the remaining two, one wore the costume of a military general, but his face was unpainted.

The last person wasn’t wearing an opera costume at all, but rather a long gray robe, looking like an accountant from the Republican era. He didn’t seem prepared to perform; instead, he looked more like a member of the stage crew.

When the curtains opened again, the six people in costume on stage were finally able to move freely.

The first thing they did upon gaining their freedom was try to run off the stage.

As a result, the bald man dressed as the accountant was the fastest. Just as one of his feet stepped off the stage, an invisible blade instantly severed his leg.

Blood splattered, staining the wooden steps red.

Seeing this, the two bald men in female drag behind him quickly grabbed his hands, stopping his forward momentum and dragging him back onto the stage.

Though they pulled him back in time, they had no tools to stop the bleeding. The accountant died from excessive blood loss anyway, leaving a large pool of blood on the stage.

The remaining five fell silent for a moment. They moved the body to a corner and then began busying themselves on the stage.

Because she couldn’t hear their voices, Zhu Di could only tell from their expressions that the five of them were extremely anxious. It was as if a death-dealing countdown had been hanging over their heads ever since the accountant died.

Eventually, they found a large chest beneath a loose floorboard on the stage. Working together, they dragged it out and placed it in the center of the stage.

The five bald men breathed a collective sigh of relief. They looked at each other and then began a game of rock-paper-scissors.

In the end, the unpainted bald man dressed as the general lost and was pushed toward the chest.

He looked at the chest, took a deep breath, and suddenly threw the lid open. He then dropped to the stage as fast as he could and rolled away.

The expected hidden weapons or ghosts did not appear. Nothing unusual happened after the chest was opened. One could see many greasepaints for face-painting and other miscellaneous items inside, and a mirror was attached to the inside of the lid—it seemed to be just an ordinary portable dressing table.

The other bald man dressed as a martial lead, whose face was already painted, seemed to realize something. He pointed at his own face and then at the unpainted face of the man in the general’s costume.

The bald man dressed as the general understood. He walked to the chest, picked up the greasepaint, and was just about to apply it to his face in the mirror when he suddenly died a violent, instantaneous death with a loud crack.

Zhu Di looked at the bald man who had crashed into the stage. Although blood splattered everywhere, his pose—stuck straight into the stage floor like a planted onion—was so hilarious that for a moment she didn’t know whether to be terrified or to laugh out loud.

It felt as if an invisible giant hand had grabbed him by the feet, lifted him up, and poked him head-first into the stage.

This was too absurd. What on earth was going on?

Just as she thought this, Zhu Di suddenly heard a very pleasant voice coming from beside her:

“Because he is playing Guan Gong¹. Before portraying Guan Gong, one must wash their hands, burn incense, and bow three times to the mirror before applying makeup. Otherwise, it is a sign of disrespect to Lord Guan.”

Although the tone lacked any emotional fluctuation and was chillingly cold, the melodious timbre of the voice completely masked that negligible flaw.

Zhu Di suddenly understood what her radio-drama-loving best friend meant by the phrase “my ears are pregnant².”

Because she couldn’t turn her head, she strained to move her eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of the person sitting next to her with her peripheral vision.

She could only vaguely see what appeared to be a performer in a White Opera Costume. She couldn’t see his face clearly, but he gave off the impression of being a beauty.

Her eyes grew tired, so Zhu Di eventually gave up and refocused her gaze on the stage.

The absurd play was still unfolding. After two deaths, the remaining four were clearly much more hesitant.

Besides the greasepaint, the chest contained torches, two palm-sized paper packets, and several bundles of incense.

After a moment of silence, the four bald men started another round of rock-paper-scissors. This time, the one dressed as a young woman lost.

He seemed to let out a sigh and walked cautiously to the chest. After hesitating for a moment, he finally reached a trembling hand toward one of the paper packets.

Fortunately, nothing happened to him after he picked up the packet.

The man clearly relaxed. He opened the packet; it contained nothing but ordinary rice.

Seeing that the bald man dressed as a young woman was safe, the one dressed as an old woman realized something and took the other paper packet just as he had.

Sure enough, neither of them came to any harm.

At that moment, Zhu Di heard the performer in the White Opera Costume beside her speak again.

“The Dan roles³ are not permitted to handle incense. Those two chose correctly.”

By now, Zhu Di had gradually begun to relax, no longer as terrified as she was at the start.

It was just a dream anyway, and with someone providing a live commentary next to her, she might as well treat it like a farcical pantomime. She figured this strange dream would end once the play was over.

Next, the bald man dressed as a martial lead chose the torch, and the clown with the white-painted face chose the incense.

Neither of them met with any immediate disaster.

However, the white-clad actor sitting beside Zhu Di let out a low chuckle. This time, his tone wasn’t as icy as before; instead, it carried a lingering, affectionate quality, as if a different person were speaking. His voice grew increasingly melodious:

“But even choosing correctly is useless. The stage-opening ritual⁴ to dispel evil failed, so the play cannot truly begin. They are destined to die… in a moment, my body will be able to take the stage~”

Not long ago, after Zhou Fangdong had finished setting the rules for the Instance, he had sat down below the stage to watch the play alongside the four young people.

After watching the beginning, however, he felt that Mu Yuechan would probably want to see the fate of the cult members who had once harmed him.

Therefore, after confirming with the system that the Ghost Tenant’s consciousness could not seize control of the body while the Possession Feature was active—and that their consciousnesses would not merge—Zhou Fangdong had the system awaken Mu Yuechan.

The “stage-opening ritual” Mu Yuechan mentioned was the first trial Zhou Fangdong had set for these cultists.

When a new stage holds its premiere, a ritual is required to dispel evil spirits and prevent the troupe from being tainted by anything unclean.

The ritual requires a Guan Gong performer or a martial lead to circle the stage with a torch, a Dan actress to scatter salt and rice across the stage, and finally, the troupe leader to burn incense and bow to the four directions.

Among the six people on stage, the “troupe leader” had already died from excessive blood loss after his legs were severed.

The “Guan Gong” had failed to wash his hands and burn incense before painting his face, so he was also dead.

Even if the martial lead took the place of Guan Gong and circled the stage with the torch, the ritual would still fail without the troupe leader to bow to the four directions at the end.

Furthermore, even if they had successfully opened the stage, they wouldn’t have been able to perform the subsequent Ghost Play⁵.

Because they were unable to move, the four people in the audience, including Zhu Di, hadn’t noticed that the seats behind them were already filled with “people.”

Those figures held white paper lanterns emitting a ghostly blue glow. Their faces were painted with identical, rigid features, and the round red rouge applied for festive cheer looked exceptionally sinister and eerie under the blue candlelight—these audience members were all paper effigies.

The boundaries between the living and the dead were set; a Ghost Play was meant for a ghostly audience.

If the performers on stage failed to bind “inverted incense⁶” to both sides of the stage before the Ghost Play began, they were doomed… the paper effigies would take the stage to “help” them perform, then turn them into paper effigies to be tossed into the audience.

However, the four on stage wouldn’t even last until the start of the Ghost Play.

Since the ritual failed, they had no defense against the invasion of evil. Zhou Fangdong could simply use Mu Yuechan’s body to walk onto the stage and finish off these bald men.

Although one could set their own rules after an Instance Erosion, one still had to leave a path of survival; it was impossible to create rules that guaranteed death.

Zhou Fangdong had left many hints for survival for these six cultists. Unfortunately, not one of them understood the taboos of the stage or what it meant to “offer incense to respect the gods and ghosts.”

The absurd comedy on stage continued.

Upon seeing the white-faced man light the incense, Zhu Di suddenly heard the white-clad actor beside her begin to hum a line of opera:

“A wisp of a fragrant soul, seared as if by fire… leaving only a flicker of phosphorus flame to light the skeletal remains…”

The white-clad actor seemed to be in a particularly good mood, standing up as he sang.

Zhu Di felt her vision grow blurry. Before her consciousness faded, she saw the graceful figure in white walk onto the stage step by step, approaching the bald corpses.

The lyrics hummed by the actor grew clearer in her ears:

“Oh, Master Pei~ I have been terrified for you until my heart shattered, I have endured cold desolation for you, sleeping with a heart full of resentment… Do you know of my green grave where the foxfire flashes at dusk? Do you know of the cuckoo weeping blood, its cries piercing the heavens?”

It seemed to be a play about a female ghost singing to a heartless lover, yet it didn’t sound tragic at all. Despite lyrics filled with accusations and resentment, Mu Yuechan’s performance carried a sense of joy, as if a great vengeance had finally been settled…

What a truly strange dream.

Zhu Di lost consciousness completely.

The four living people below the stage vanished in an instant, and the stage was swallowed by a surging mass of bloody mist.

The expressions of the four bald men changed completely.

If their initial confinement on stage was merely terrifying, now only pure despair remained.

They knew all too well how horrific a ghost with this level of resentment could be.

Zhou Fangdong didn’t even need to lift a finger. Trapped within such resentment, the flesh of the four cultists on stage began to rot and liquefy, as if boiling water had been poured over them or as if they were wax figures thrust into a furnace. Amidst the thick, blood-colored resentment, the four dissolved into pools of gore with agonizing wails.

After watching this absurd comedy performed with such “dedication” by the six cultists, Mu Yuechan was exceptionally happy, continuously humming opera lyrics that Zhou Fangdong couldn’t quite understand.

“Thank you, Mr. Landlord. I enjoyed tonight’s play very much~ You are most thoughtful.”

[Detected an increase in Ghost Tenant Mu Yuechan’s Favorability. Current Favorability: 90]

[Congratulations to the Host! First Instance Erosion successful!]

[Instance Erosion Rewards: Apartment Surroundings Beautification facility [Yin-Yang Town] (increases tenant mood), 1000 Ghost Coins, [Liwan Apartments Activity Room Key]]

After confirming that the cultists were all dead, Zhou Fangdong returned to Liwan Apartments and deactivated the Possession Feature.

Sitting in his room, he opened the Apartment Surroundings Beautification menu.

He then discovered that [Yin-Yang Town] was in an un-lockable state.

“System, why can’t I assign Yin-Yang Town to the apartment’s surrounding facilities?”

[The Host has not assigned a Ghost Tenant. Yin-Yang Town does not currently meet the unlocking conditions.]

[The assigned Ghost Tenant must have a correlation of over 60% with the surrounding facility. Ghost Tenant [Republican Era Dan · Mu Yuechan] is currently detected as a match. The Host may assign him to work in the town.]

Zhou Fangdong frowned slightly.

He didn’t dare let Mu Yuechan out so casually…

“What happens if I never assign Yin-Yang Town to the apartment’s surrounding facilities?”

[The town will not be under the protection of the apartment. Although the Host can teleport there, tenants will be unable to go. The rules set by the Host in the town will apply indiscriminately to everyone who enters.]

Zhou Fangdong thought about it. The only people likely to go to that town were those cultists. Unless they were pulled in by the Main God, ordinary people would never set foot in such a remote, haunted place.

“System, let me confirm: this town is no longer under the control of the Main God System, right?”

[Correct. The Instance Erosion was successful. The Main God no longer has the authority to teleport players here.]

In that case, he could leave the place alone for now. He truly didn’t have any spare Ghost Tenants to assign elsewhere.

Besides, those cultists didn’t know that the Main God Instance here had been eroded, nor did they know the Instance’s boundaries had changed… Every cultist who came would likely be sucked in. This town could perfectly serve as a glue trap for catching cultists.

Zhou Fangdong closed the Apartment Surroundings Beautification menu and began checking the remaining rewards.

Hmm… 1000 Ghost Coins, and the [Liwan Apartments Activity Room Key]?

Zhou Fangdong withdrew the key. To his surprise, as soon as it touched his hand, it automatically merged with his item, the [Landlord’s Key].

“System, where is this Liwan Apartments activity room?”

[It is on the first floor, in the corridor by the walking stairs. The host can use this key to unlock the hidden Liwan Apartments activity room.]

Zhou Fangdong remembered that corridor having no doors or windows; it was just an ordinary hallway. He hadn’t expected there to be an unlocked hidden space there.

He would go check it out tomorrow when he cleaned Room 106.

The night passed quickly, and the next day arrived.

As soon as dawn broke, the system pop-up for the [Night Attack of a Hundred Ghosts (Countdown: 14 days)] appeared as punctually as an alarm clock.

Zhou Fangdong habitually checked the tenant interface first to see how his tenants were doing.

In Room 101, Zhao Dawei’s health had improved, and he was already out of bed. The chubby pixel figure was washing up in the bathroom. His vacation ended today, and he was likely preparing to go to work at the furniture store.

Duan Wenyu from Room 102 had gone out to work and hadn’t returned yet.

Perhaps unsure of when he would be back, Duan Wenyu had filled the utility room with food before leaving yesterday… “filled” in the literal physical sense. Although Zhou Fangdong didn’t know the state of things under the bed, looking at the preview screen, there was absolutely no place to step on the floor of Room 102’s utility room.

The child ghost of Room 102 had half its body poking out from under the bed, struggling to pull snacks out and toss them aside, trying to clear some space for itself to move. Sweat beads kept popping up over the head of the pitch-black pixel figure, which seemed to have grown a size rounder.

In Room 103, Mu Yuechan was practicing his scales. The musical notes representing volume coming from the pixelated Peking Opera actor were getting larger and larger, with the precarious-looking pixel notes occupying most of the room.

The Room 104 convenience store was open 24 hours. The Long-tongued Ghost and the Wedding Dress Ghost were the same as ever—one slumped over the checkout counter, the other standing in the corner furthest from the register.

In Rooms 107 and 108, because it was only six in the morning and not yet time to work at the Daoist temple, Zhang Qingyang and Zhang Zhiwu were both in their rooms. Their pixel figures were in identical poses, sitting cross-legged on their beds in meditation.

In Room 109, Miao Zheng was also awake, checking her luggage with the Dismemberment Ghost.

Miao Zheng had obtained the visitor’s pass for the Delicious Slaughterhouse yesterday, but she hadn’t left the apartments immediately. Instead, she had returned to her room to pack, seemingly planning to head over today.

After confirming all his tenants were safe, Zhou Fangdong closed the rental interface with peace of mind and walked out of his room.

Today, he needed to clear out Room 106 for Hong Zhong.

Room 106 was likely the filthiest of all the rooms on the first floor. Zhou Fangdong couldn’t understand how a non-commercial residence could generate so much grease.

The situation was as if the previous tenant had run a restaurant here and spent years stir-frying dishes.

The grease in the room was the kind of solid, yellow-black grime found on range hoods that hadn’t been cleaned in years. It covered almost the entire Room 106, even the furniture.

Before cleaning it, Zhou Fangdong didn’t even dare to step inside.

Just looking at the floor, he could already imagine the sticky sensation of shoes stepping on it—the solidified grime clinging to the soles, stretching out into translucent, gooey threads of oil between the shoe and the floor with every step…

Fortunately, standing at the door of Room 106 was enough to trigger the side quest.

[Side Quest 7: Clean and Rent out Room 106]

[1. Clean the grease inside the room]

[2. Paint the walls and purchase new furniture]

[3. Find the ghost hidden in the room and determine the ghost’s Killing Pattern]

[4. Draft a Rental Contract and find a tenant to move in]

[Side Quest 7 Rewards: 300 Ghost Coins, 1000 Experience Points, Random Skill Point x1]

After a quick scan to confirm it was no different from previous side quests, Zhou Fangdong closed the task window.

However, although Room 106 looked filthy, it didn’t have a greasy smell. There was only a very faint, fishy stench.

Zhou Fangdong bought an Automatic Cleaning Tool from the mall. When he tried to use it, the system informed him once again that it could not clean stains left by ghosts.

Looking at the grease-filled room, Zhou Fangdong sighed. After standing at the door to mentally prepare himself for a moment, he finally plucked up the courage to walk in.

Enduring the uncomfortable stickiness beneath his feet, he circled the room, but he didn’t see so much as a ghostly shadow.

Where was the ghost? Where did the ghost of Room 106 go?

Zhou Fangdong’s gaze shifted downward. Could the ghost of Room 106 be this very grime?

Was the ghost in this room similar to the Blood Shadow Sac in Room 107?

At this thought, he tried touching the grease on the windowsill with his finger while simultaneously using his Mind Reading skill.

The result was that, aside from getting oil all over his hand, the grime showed no reaction, and Mind Reading failed to take effect.

Zhou Fangdong wiped his hand and took out his phone to start searching for the files related to Room 106.

He hoped to find clues about the ghost of Room 106 from the tenants who had died in the room previously.

When he opened the folder labeled Room 106, Zhou Fangdong fell into a sudden silence as he looked at the long, seemingly endless list of files inside.

…So many. So many people had died in Room 106.

After reading through a few, Zhou Fangdong discovered that most of the tenants in Room 106 died suddenly and mysteriously after only a few days of renting.

The shortest stay was three days, and the longest hadn’t even reached a full month.

Because the tenants were consumed so quickly, and because the rent was cheap, there were always people who didn’t believe in superstitions. Consequently, the death toll for Room 106 looked quite high.

Furthermore, in these files recording tenant deaths, there were no vendettas, no murders, and no suicides. It seemed to be purely a case of tenants dropping dead because there was something wrong with the house.

Zhou Fangdong even saw the file for the Room 106 tenant who had been the first to discover the deaths of the four college students in Room 107.

The day after discovering the deaths next door, he had also unfortunately passed away. Because the investigators from the Paranormal Affairs Department suspected the ghost from Room 107 next door had killed him, this was mentioned in his records.

After flipping through several files of tenants who had all died suddenly for no apparent reason, Zhou Fangdong simply scrolled to the very top to check the first fatal case that occurred in Room 106.

This time, it was finally different from the others. This tenant had died of obstructed labor in Room 106.

Died of obstructed labor… Was the ghost in this room an infant spirit? Or a birthing ghost?

But neither of those types of ghosts were the kind to hide away, and they shouldn’t be producing this strange grease.

The ones Zhou Fangdong had just read were all case summaries, equivalent to preview information. Following the index, Zhou Fangdong opened the detailed file corresponding to the tenant who had died in childbirth.

The moment he opened it, the bloody photos at the very top of the file gave him a massive fright… No wonder a death in childbirth was recorded in the Liwan Apartments murder files.

This wasn’t a death from obstructed labor at all; this was a case of cold-blooded, premeditated murder!

Translator’s Notes