Chapter 13: The Corpse Burial in the Mountain Village

Since entering the instance, most of the players had lost at least a couple of pounds. Only Li Zhi, who still ate three meals a day, somehow seemed to have gained weight.

It wasn’t because she ate a lot—rather, outside the instance, she used to eat high-protein, low-carb meals. But here, every meal was nothing but steamed buns and plain rice, with no other choice available.

After breakfast, they headed out. In the mourning courtyard stood four old men, thin and weathered, their black hair streaked with white. Uncle Jiu was handing out cigarettes to them. The players had seen these men during the funeral feast—they were among the few remaining villagers.

These men were here to help carry the coffin. Four male players and four villagers—eight people in total—were responsible for carrying it to the burial site.

Lian Qinglin muttered quietly, “Couldn’t they have found some stronger guys? These four uncles look like they’ll snap under the weight.”

Chi Yi replied, “Didn’t they say there aren’t many people left in the village? Getting four to help is probably the best they could do.”

Sure enough, just before the procession began, as the players knelt before the coffin burning paper offerings, they could hear the old men sighing and chatting:

“The village chief’s still got us to carry his coffin, but when we’re gone, there might not even be anyone left to do this.”

“Guanping Village is doomed sooner or later. I knew this day would come the moment we weren’t included in that development plan years ago.”

“Damn it. If I’d known back then, I’d never have agreed to build that damn bridge. It drained everyone’s savings, and for what?”

Li Zhi tossed the joss paper into the brazier and glanced at the distant Guanping Village Bridge, suspended in midair. From this angle, she could see half the bridge’s body, with perpetual white mist curling beneath it. It was the only road connecting the village to the outside world.

Her gaze flickered slightly, but before she could think deeper, Li Jianxi walked up to the head of the coffin with an axe in hand, announcing coldly, “View the body, seal the coffin.”

Frankly, none of the players wanted to view that body.

But ritual was ritual. They circled the coffin, squeezed out a few tears, let out some token wails, and prepared to seal it shut.

“Tigers and monkeys step aside. Children, avoid the nails.”

Finally, the coffin lid was closed. The six players hid inside the house, listening to the steady hammering of coffin nails outside, all visibly relieved.

“It’s finally going to be over!”

“With the lid nailed shut, he’s not getting out this time, right?”

The last hammer blow fell, and outside, the sharp, mournful wail of suona horns and gongs erupted, signaling the official start of the funeral procession. With the task seemingly almost complete, the players’ spirits lifted. Even the weak and pale Zhu Zhibo seemed to perk up with renewed strength.

As they tied ropes around the coffin, Uncle Jiu unlocked the main house next to the hall—the village chief’s old residence. It had been locked since his death, only now being opened.

With a grim face, Uncle Jiu ordered, “Gather the chief’s belongings. We’ll burn them with him, so he won’t be cold on the road to the afterlife.”

According to custom, a person’s possessions should be burned with them after burial. The chief’s room was even damper than the hall. As soon as Li Zhi stepped inside, she was hit by the musty scent of mold. Simple furniture lined the room, and by the window sat a chipped, peeling desk.

Li Zhi peeked outside—Uncle Jiu was busy supervising the others with the coffin. Pulling the bamboo-print curtain halfway closed, she quickly opened the desk drawers.

Inside, covered in cobwebs, were several folded newspapers, a few old books about agricultural productivity, a fountain pen, and some notebooks.

She flipped through the notebooks—mostly scattered, meaningless scribbles. Ironically, the notes in the old books were more detailed. It seemed that the village chief had once been determined to lift Guanping Village out of poverty and backwardness, studying solutions for years.

Clearly, he had failed.

Guanping Village, surrounded by mountains with poor transportation, was destined to remain stagnant.

Why hadn’t he thought of tourism? Turning it into an agritourism or summer retreat might’ve worked. Li Zhi idly thought as she picked up the newspapers from the bottom of the drawer. They were decades old, yellowed with age. Just as she was about to take a closer look, the window’s wooden railing thudded twice.

Through the thin curtain, Uncle Jiu’s voice barked, “What are you dawdling for? Hurry up!”

“Coming,” Li Zhi replied, slipping the papers into her coat as she turned toward the wardrobe.

Preparations finished, and with the crisp crash of a basin hitting the ground, the funeral music swelled once more. Li Zhi led the procession, carrying the spirit banner and burial staff, while Chi Yi followed with the memorial tablet. Behind them, the pallbearers lifted the coffin and set off toward the burial ground.

Along the way, joss paper fluttered like snow, and the funeral band played endlessly. As they passed through the village, nearly every remaining villager came out to watch. All elderly. All hunched and frail, with sluggish steps and numb, grief-stricken expressions.

A village without young people was a village destined for extinction.

Amidst the swirling flurry of funeral money, the burial site finally came into view. The players set down the coffin, prepared the grave, burned more offerings, and lit lanterns. With the finish line in sight, their excitement was palpable—hands trembling, hearts pounding, working more efficiently than ever.

After lowering the coffin, Li Jianxi used a compass to verify the north-south alignment. Once confirmed, he gave the signal to start burying.

Shovelful after shovelful of earth fell onto the coffin, only to slide off the slick wood before gradually accumulating. The overcast sky pressed down, cold winds howled, and the banners and staffs fluttered in the wind, rustling eerily.

With the last shovelful of dirt covering the grave mound, visible excitement filled the players’ faces.

Was it over? Had they finally cleared the instance?

The chill wind blew. Everything remained eerily normal. Chi Yi whispered, “Did we forget to burn his belongings?”

They knelt again before the grave and burned the gathered possessions.

Still… nothing.

Silence gradually descended over the graveyard. At some point, the villagers had silently gathered behind them. Their faces all wore the same expression: a strange, resentful smile, their eyes fixed mockingly on the bewildered players as if watching a joke unfold.

Gao Shijun finally broke down, clutching his head and roaring, “What’s going on?! Why haven’t we cleared this damn instance?! Are we going to die here?!”

Xu Shu glanced at Li Zhi, who was deep in thought, and said solemnly, “Looks like you were right. Our real task is to bury our biological parents properly.”

“Where are they? How the hell are we supposed to find them?” Gao Shijun collapsed, sobbing on the ground. “We don’t have any clues!”

Zhu Zhibo had been holding out, hoping burial would mean freedom. Now that hope was gone, his strength left him, and he sat on the ground looking utterly defeated.

Perhaps the players’ despair amused the villagers because they finally turned and slowly shuffled away, leaving the graveyard empty except for the mournful wind… and the faint sound of rustling paper.

Li Zhi didn’t know when she had started flipping through the old newspapers she’d taken.

The others were confused. Chi Yi crept over and asked, “Is there something in there?”

“There is.”

Those words were like oxygen to suffocating men. The others scrambled to her side, watching as she pointed at a section of the newspaper circled with black ink. The headline read: “From Points to Network: Integrating Old Rural Areas to Build a Green Ecological Village”

The article explained that the county government had once planned to develop several rural areas into an ecological tourism zone to help local farmers prosper. The plan involved connecting villages across the region into a unified whole.

Judging from the date, the paper was over twenty years old. The shaky, aggressive circle around that headline made it clear that whoever had marked it had been extremely agitated.

The second newspaper was from a year later. Its largest section listed the names of villages that had been successfully integrated into the development plan—but Guanping Village wasn’t among them. That name had been violently crossed out with black ink, tearing the paper.

Everyone stared at the newspapers, bewildered. “What does this have to do with us?”

Li Zhi folded the papers, glanced around, and said, “We need to search the graveyard carefully. The system’s task was to properly bury our family. The wording is key—‘bury’ implies our biological parents are already dead, and ‘properly’ suggests they weren’t given a decent burial. Maybe they were left to rot somewhere, or maybe something’s wrong with their graves.”

The others quickly agreed and began searching.

But searching for clues in such a vast cemetery wasn’t easy. None of them cared about eating anymore; they drifted like ghosts through rows of tombstones, checking names, dates, anything that might help.

As the sun was about to set, Lian Qinglin’s excited shout broke the silence: “Over here! Look at this!”

What he found wasn’t part of the graveyard at all, but a desolate patch of uneven wilderness. In feng shui, grave sites should be selected for favorable terrain—backed by mountains, facing water, sheltered from the wind. The worst locations were rocky, broken, harsh land with bad flow and fragmented energy.

And this tomb… was right in such a place.

It was as if someone had deliberately chosen the most ominous, hostile site possible.