The sixth day since the white mist’s appearance.

The whole planet lay buried beneath a blanket of ghostly fog, so thick that every pedestrian instinctively donned a mask before venturing out.

“Tsk! When is this mist finally going to clear?”

“You can’t even see the road! Yesterday, I nearly drove off a cliff—now, that was a close call!”

“They say it’s not just Jing City. The entire country is like this… Even some places abroad, according to the news, have fallen to the fog.”

As people discussed the white mist with anxious curiosity, a heavy thud rang out nearby—someone had collapsed.

“Huh? What happened to him?”

“Someone fainted!”

“Let’s get to work. Someone else will deal with it.”

Nobody seemed particularly concerned about the person who had fallen.

What none of them realized was that, over the next half-day, more and more people passed out just like that.

The afflicted would spike a sudden fever, their consciousness swept away in an instant. Antipyretics did nothing for them. There were no warning symptoms before they dropped.

Even when rushed to the hospital, no one could determine the cause.

By the end of a single day, so many had collapsed that the hospitals overflowed with patients.

The entrances buzzed with a constant flow of those stricken and their frantic families.

Medical supplies and tempers ran thin; conflicts erupted under the strain.

Some families broke down entirely.

“What is this hospital even doing? We’ve spent all this money and you can’t even figure out why she’s passed out?!”

A burly man shouted at the top of his lungs, eyes fixed on his wasted mother lying in her hospital bed.

She’d been admitted for two days already.

They’d run countless tests, nearly exhausted their savings, but nothing pointed to a cause.

“Sir, please calm down—”

A nurse tried to intervene, but in the heat of the moment, tempers flared.

Worse still, fresh cases just kept coming. The wards reached capacity and chaos reigned.

Throughout the country, the numbers continued to climb.

———

The seventh day since the game began.

The planet now lay entirely shrouded by the suffocating fog.

Daylight was a sullen gray, and night so pitch black you couldn’t see your own hand before your face. Day and night blended together as if light itself had fled.

Ye Shu glanced at the open balcony window.

Outside, there was nothing but silence—no hint of life in the world.

“According to reports, over thirty thousand have fallen nationwide… Specialists have yet to uncover a single useful clue… All these people were healthy beforehand. Suddenly, they fell into fever and have not awakened—Not one. Work from home is strongly advised. If you must go outside, take full precautions.”

“Experts speculate the first cases appeared on the fourth day after the mist arrived… Still no idea of the source… Most likely, the high fever is linked to the white fog. Limit your exposure, wash hands often, disinfect—”

The news anchor even thoughtfully listed some common features among the earliest patients: nearly all were elderly.

Ye Shu raised a brow and kept scrolling through the web.

The news was vague, useless—no one offered a shred of real explanation.

After the fog’s arrival, a mysterious fever swept through the world, causing people to collapse—wasn’t this, by definition, an epidemic?

Ye Shu cast a sidelong glance at the swirling mist outside her window and muttered, “What exactly are you?”

She wondered if a hazmat suit could truly block the mist.

If not, humans would be forced to hide indoors forever—which, soon enough, would lead to a crisis of dwindling supplies.

A scream tore through the quiet, shattering her train of thought.

Shouts echoed from the ward outside.

“Ah!!”

“Nurse Wu has collapsed!”

“Should we try to get her down the mountain? But the hospitals can’t even take her in!”

“Let’s call her family instead.”

Ye Shu slid open the small window in her door.

A faint sheen of white fog seeped along the corridor, curling like smoke.

Peering out, Ye Shu saw the nurse’s face tinted a ghastly shade of blue-violet, limbs twitching faintly. No matter how they called her name, she wouldn’t wake—she might as well be a puppet.

Standing by Nurse Wu’s side was Jiang Ran, the player Ye Shu had met days earlier.

She was bundled up tight, wrapped in protective gear, a clear visor over her frightened face.

Even with the gear, Ye Shu recognized her right away.

In just those few days, Jiang Ran’s already thin frame had grown gaunt. Her lovely eyes brimmed with terror, dark circles stark on her face—clearly, she hadn’t slept much.

Their gazes met for a moment. Jiang Ran froze, then, feigning indifference, slipped into the crowd.

Ye Shu frowned.

Just a few days ago, this woman had come seeking her help; now, she was avoiding all contact.

Soon, the fainted nurse was carried away.

Ye Shu let the little window fall shut, thoughts already elsewhere.

She had enough provisions to sit tight. There was no need to venture outside—waiting was safest.

Meanwhile, the world chat channel was as lively as ever.

[Player count: 1,000,000/987,654]

[Little Alpaca: I’m losing my mind! My NPC roommate passed out. We took all the precautions before stepping out—wore full gear, cleaned the house a dozen times—and just five minutes ago, she was chatting with me about dinner. Then she collapsed right in front of me! What should I do? Am I infected? Am I going to die?]

[Fat Orange: Wasn’t this world supposed to be more advanced than Blue Star? But they can’t even analyze the mist! Is this some kind of black technology or just plain pollution? No, my underarm thermometer’s reading is getting higher—no way! I just started playing this game; am I going to die already?]

[Strawberry Pig: Wow! Why didn’t I think of that?]

[White Cat Chief: You all might want to stay put. Honestly, just hunker down for thirty days! I haven’t left my house since this started—nothing’s happened! Eating well, sleeping well!]

[None Left Behind: Same here, just laying low and waiting to clear the game.]

[Little Papaya: Me too! I’m a new player, and I’ve heard about the monsters in the last game—did not dare go outside. Turns out, I’ve made it through these days just fine, eating, drinking, and sleeping.]

[…+1]

Ye Shu: “…”

She had to admit, caution paid off.

Turns out, the newcomers’ cowardice had saved their skins.

Stepping outside into the mist could mean never coming back.

Su Bai messaged Ye Shu on cue, confirming they were still safe.

“Ah, another one’s collapsed…”

“Somebody help!”

“Let Little Li’s parents know! The hospital can’t send a car right now.”

What was once unfamiliar had become routine.

Even in this psychiatric hospital, the nurses—though shaken—handled the crisis methodically.

Ye Shu sat quietly on her bed, completely unfazed by the turmoil outside.

Within half an hour, the third collapse occurred in the ward.

Across the nation, it was always the same.

Every patient, without exception, had no detectable pathogen.

It’s the unknown that terrifies most.

Even veterans of the flu outbreak three years ago felt their hearts quiver.

This time, there were no signs, no diagnosis to be made—fever raging, utterly untreatable. Worse yet, no medication could bring their temperature down. If it continued, the patients wouldn’t last more than a few days…

Everyone was gripped by panic.

“But… but we disinfected everything, we’re all wearing masks. How is this still happening?!”

“What if I’m next?”

“What do we do? Am I next? I want to go home! Forget work, I’m leaving!”

Some, unable to take it any longer, fled the hospital in utter terror.