Ye Shu’s foot slammed against the wooden plank, the heavy jolt making the black coffin shudder.
“Damn it! My revenge isn’t over yet…”
How can I let myself be trapped in this coffin by you?
She battered the coffin lid, each blow echoing through the darkness, but outside, the strange ones were undisturbed: mourners wailed out funeral dirges, some scattered spirit money, and others wept by the graves—a grotesque pantomime, wholly unperturbed by her struggle.
With gritted teeth, Ye Shu struck the lid with both feet, then wedged her peachwood sword into the cracks, desperate to pry the lid loose.
No matter her struggle or fury, it was like an ant trying to move a mountain—the black coffin didn’t budge an inch.
Her wounds reopened, blood dripping onto the peachwood blade. In the suffocating dark, Ye Shu didn’t notice.
Blood loss and lack of oxygen spun her world. In that delirious haze, the only thing she recalled was the odd cry her sword made—and to survive, she hacked madly at the thick coffin lid.
When she finally drew in a lungful of fresh air, she wondered if she was hallucinating from being sealed inside for too long.
Ye Shu, eyes half-open, found herself surrounded by a horde of ghoulish figures in funereal attire, stretching as far as the eye could see, pressing steadily closer.
She raised her peachwood sword and severed the head of one of the mourning specters. A voice resounded in her head:
[You have slain a basic wraith! +1 point.]
Ye Shu’s actions faltered, a flare of delight in her eyes.
No one ever mentioned you could gain points from killing wraiths!
She quickly dispatched two more of the encroaching fiends.
[You have slain a basic wraith x1! +1 point.]
[You have slain an intermediate wraith x1! +5 points.]
Suddenly, Ye Shu’s aches and exhaustion vanished, her energy surging. With newfound vigor, she swung her peachwood sword in sweeping arcs, mowing down the encroaching wraiths.
Notifications chimed in her mind like the ringing of coins:
[Ding! You have slain basic wraiths x20! +20 points.]
[Ding! You have slain intermediate wraiths x10! +50 points.]
[Ding! You have slain advanced wraiths x5! +50 points.]
Ye Shu’s eyes gleamed gold; slaying these abominations was as effortless as slicing fruit. Her wooden sword cut through them with brazen might.
The ground was littered with corpses, the air thick with the stench of blood and decay. For the first time, the wraiths—confronted by this female harbinger of death—began to feel fear and pull away.
Ye Shu was caught in a frenzy, eyes wild with slaughter.
A total of 780 points harvested.
Dawn crept forth, darkness receding in an instant. In the faint light, the white spirit money, coffin-bearers, and the clustered wraiths all vanished before Ye Shu’s astonished gaze. If not for the mangled bodies left behind, she would have thought it all a nightmare.
Yet there was no joy on her face—her mood only grew heavier.
Even such powerful red-and-white clash wraiths were beholden to the rules, vanishing at daybreak, which underscored just how disturbing that male specter who had stabbed her thrice really was.
He ignored the rules entirely, manifesting even under sunlight. That, for her, was a terrifying problem.
Ye Shu turned her eyes to the peachwood sword. She recalled that when she killed the ghostly Buddha before, this sword had never shown such strength—nor yielded any points.
She opened the control panel, pausing to read the new entry for her weapon:
[SS-grade Exorcist Peachwood Sword: Blessed by the gods, slays all spectral beings. Lower-tier monsters cannot inflict damage (cannot be dropped). Drinking blood temporarily strengthens the sword spirit. Durability: 100%. Slaying evil spirits grants bonus points.]
So…it’s leveled up?
No wonder the wraiths fled—her sword now radiated dread. Durability had increased; but if it ever dropped to zero, would the peachwood sword simply vanish?
There are fewer than 500 players left in this survival game. And just a dozen or so hours of darkness left until completion.
Today marked the tenth day, with just a fleeting hour of daylight.
It took Ye Shu a good while to navigate back to the highway, but Pang Pangzi was nowhere to be seen. Not a single reply came from private messages—her dozen attempts vanished into the void.
She wolfed down some dry rations, then drove the battered pickup toward the city.
…………
When the wedding procession passed through the small pickup, Pang Tong felt as if he’d fallen into an ice cellar, his whole body turning numb, drowsiness washing over him.
When he came to, he found his hands bound, dressed head-to-toe in a crimson wedding gown.
What the hell!?
So…he’d been kidnapped by wraiths to be a bride?!
A strapping man like him—snatched to play the bride by ghosts? Ridiculous!
Pang Tong wrestled with all his might, but the ropes only tightened, cutting into his wrists. Every plan to escape, from leaping over the fire basin to being carried into the bridal chamber, failed.
The room was quaint and fragrant with age, the double happiness character pasted on the windows, noise of celebration drifting in from outside, as if real wedding guests were feasting.
Like a caterpillar, Pang Tong wriggled madly atop the bed, finally using a hidden talisman tucked in his pants to sever the ropes.
But the revelry halted, suddenly, plunging the place into unbearable silence.
Pang Tong eyed the door, on high alert, half-expecting a ghostly bride to burst in at any moment.
…………
City F.
The sky was pressed down by a ceiling of gray clouds, the city utterly still—as though time itself had been paused.
Ye Shu drove single-handed, her other caressing Big Beautiful’s luxuriant pelt, a lollipop poked between her lips. She looked calm, unfazed.
Big Beautiful, wary of the menacing peachwood sword beside him, eyelids pulsing with luminous green, observed quietly.
Inside a looming office building, several players cowered in a cramped wardrobe. Sweat and the smell of old socks poisoned the air, yet Li Dahai and the others barely seemed to notice.
Toilets, printers, ceiling panels—Ye Shu had searched every hidey-hole.
Every ghost she encountered was dispatched instantly. The little black cat trailed behind picking over the corpses, stuffing itself.
To Big Beautiful, life was now utterly perfect: a free bodyguard, and a round-the-clock buffet.
[Ding! You have slain basic wraiths x66! +66 points.]
[Ding! You have slain intermediate wraiths x3! +15 points.]
Just a few dozen steps from the main office, Ye Shu finally found several bottles of Wahaha and two boxes of instant hot pot.
“Now this is living!”
Gorging hot pot and gulping Wahaha, she felt her spirits return.
Li Dahai was so famished his vision blurred—he wondered if his senses were betraying him.
“Smells amazing…”
“I haven’t had hot pot in ages—shrimp dumplings, tripe, fresh baby bok choy…”
Chen Meng’s face was longing and wistful, the threat of the wraiths momentarily forgotten.
“Damn it, thanks to these fiends I’ve been curled up in a wardrobe! When this game ends, I promise I’ll eat my fill.”
“Just a dozen hours more, comrades. Hang in there! We’ll… we’ll be home soon.”
Li Dahai tried to comfort the younger players.
Compared to the chaos outside, they’d holed up here from the very start, never venturing out. Cautious—and lucky—not to have made a single misstep yet.
“Hee-hee, I heard you… Can you hear me?!”
A rustling sound from outside set everyone clinging to one another with fright.
“Can you hear me?!”
Chen Meng, sobbing in terror, clasped her mouth shut, her eyes flooding with despair.
Was this really the end for them?
Something heavy thudded to the floor—a loud bang.
Then—crunching noises.
“Come out. I’m human.”
A cool, clear girl’s voice echoed through the office, ringing in everyone’s ears.
Long minutes passed and no one dared open the wardrobe. Every player inside imagined that the voice outside belonged to some shapeshifting wraith, lying in wait to lure them out.
Ye Shu frowned into the shadows, then repeated herself, trying to sound patient: “I’m human. The wraiths are dead. You’re safe now.”
She had cleaned out every ghost from the building, barely scraping together 2,000 points.
At last, led by Li Dahai, nine players emerged from the tiny closet—barely three square meters—where they’d been packed in like sardines.
By then, Ye Shu was already gone.
Li Dahai scanned the empty office in disbelief, half-convinced the voice before was only a hallucination.
“Captain, look!!”
Chen Meng’s finger pointed out the shattered remains of a wraith on the floor, and Li Dahai stared, dumbstruck.
Someone really could kill these ghosts!
They weren’t invincible after all!
After leaving the building, Ye Shu found a rundown guesthouse for shelter.
She loaded her food haul into the truck, perching atop the bounty with inexplicable satisfaction.
When she’d found her vehicle earlier, all the food and water—and even the spare fuel tanks—were gone, the work of some brainless fool. At least they left her the truck. Otherwise, she’d have been hiking.
With her stamina restored, even the slightest sound put Ye Shu on edge again.
She prayed she’d never run into that cursed subway ghost ever again.