Chapter 131: Ghost Amusement Park

Back at the verification site, the red light had not yet lit up.

Li Zhi scanned the amusement plaza but didn’t see Li Jianxi anywhere. He was probably still being held over at the maze to work off his debt. The others were still joking about the earlier topic, urging Owen Dong to do a belly dance on the spot for entertainment.

Suddenly, Pei Hongyu walked over to Li Zhi—this was the first time he had voluntarily spoken to her since entering the instance. “Come with me.”

Their teammates’ chatter quieted. You Jingmeng spoke nervously, “What’s he doing? He’s not going to challenge Big Boss Zhi to a duel, is he?”

Li Zhi gave her teammates a reassuring look and calmly followed Pei Hongyu. They walked all the way to the colorful mushroom pavilion before he finally stopped, turned to her, and said, “You noticed it too, didn’t you?”

Li Zhi wasn’t surprised that he had noticed as well. “Yes.”

Pei Hongyu frowned. “What have you discovered?”

Li Zhi shook her head. “Nothing yet. It’s hiding very well.”

Pei Hongyu said, “I can confirm that all of the players on my side are human. It’s in your team.”

Li Zhi raised an eyebrow. “I can confirm all the players in my team are human. I think it’s in your team.”

Before he could argue, she added, “There’s no point arguing about this now. Neither of us has solid proof. This is already the seventh round. We must find it before the ninth round of voting. We don’t know exactly when the tenth round of voting will begin. If the voting screen appears before we’ve identified the impostor, we’ll be completely on the back foot.”

Pei Hongyu pressed his lips together. After a moment, he said in a low voice, “Tell me everything you all were just talking about.”

Li Zhi began recounting the conversation she had deliberately steered earlier.

The live chat exploded with excitement:

【AAAAAH did you guys finally notice it!!!】
【I knew something was off when not all player names appeared on the popularity ranking!】
【But how did these two bosses figure it out? The hidden clues haven’t even been revealed yet!】

After a while, once Li Zhi finished recounting, Pei Hongyu’s brows were deeply furrowed. “Can’t tell who’s suspicious yet, but we can narrow it down. Han Wenlin and Wei Xiao can vouch for each other. The celebrity players all know each other. That leaves Qi Yongyi, You Jingmeng, Cheng Jiayue, and Owen Dong.”

Li Zhi said, “Eliminate Qi Yongyi—I’ve seen his martial arts videos before.”

Pei Hongyu thought for a bit. “Let’s observe for another round. We should get the hidden clue after this round, and it should relate to the impostor.”

Li Zhi chuckled softly. “What if the hidden clue just tells us, ‘There’s an impostor among you’?”

By the normal progression of the game, players were supposed to get a hidden clue after completing nine rounds—not like her and Pei Hongyu, who had already noticed the anomaly in advance. So there was a good chance that hidden clue was just the system stating the obvious: You have an impostor among you.

Pei Hongyu’s frown deepened. “If that’s the case, we’ll have to rely on self-verification.”

Making players suspect each other and fight—wasn’t that just the kind of sick amusement the system delighted in?

After nine rounds, when everyone was full of hope, holding nine answers and ready to pass the level with a final vote, only to suddenly be told, “There’s a mole among you. You must vote them out to escape”—this kind of cruel prank was a brutal psychological blow to players.

At that point, suspicion would spread everywhere. Add a time limit, and panic would only worsen.

The system wanted to see them tear each other apart.

Red lights illuminated around them. Li Zhi spoke: “Let’s go back and vote first.”

They returned to the group. The others were curious about what they had been secretly discussing, but intimidated by the presence of two top players, no one dared to rush up and ask.

The verification hall’s doors opened. Everyone took turns going in to vote.

Li Zhi’s vote this round was for “Painted Skin,” the answer they had found in the haunted house. This was the seventh round—only two rounds of voting remained.

When she entered the certification room, she deliberately checked the blank space beneath the Hundred Ghosts Wall. It was still empty. If her guess was right, that blank spot would reveal players’ names during the ninth round of voting.

Eighteen players, nine names per row—just enough to fill that space.

That space had been reserved for them from the very beginning.

She remembered when they first entered this instance, the system had broadcasted: The real monsters have already blended in successfully.

It had been warning them from the start.

During the high-altitude challenge, the lights above the park had formed a cross. But that wasn’t a cross—it was the character for “ten.” There were ten mushroom pavilions flanking the roads, and ten NPCs in the plaza. If one paid attention, they’d see that the decorations throughout the park all revolved around the number ten.

Nine amusement rides represented nine ghosts, but the ghost amusement park itself was a ride.

So, as she and Pei Hongyu had speculated, there were actually ten ghosts in this instance. And one of them had infiltrated the players’ group the moment they entered.

But who was it?

Once everyone finished voting, the verification hall closed again. Li Zhi and Pei Hongyu exchanged glances but said nothing. The whole group headed to the final amusement ride. The staff member with plastic rings still stood at the entrance, smiling as usual.

“Only ten people are needed for this round,” Li Zhi turned and asked, “One person doesn’t have to enter. Who’s willing to stay outside?”

The players looked at each other. This was the last round; everyone wanted to perform well and earn popularity points. Besides, with two top players here, it should be relatively safe. No one was eager to stay behind.

In the end, Chi Yi suggested, “How about everyone except Zhi Zhi and Pei Hongyu plays rock-paper-scissors? Whoever loses stays out.”

Pei Hongyu’s expression darkened. “Ah Shan doesn’t play. She’s coming in with me.”

Tang Nanshan helplessly shook her head at him. “It’s fine. I don’t have to go in.” She waved to the others, “Alright, let’s do rock-paper-scissors.”

After several rounds, Owen Dong ended up losing repeatedly, becoming the one who had to stay outside.

Whether that was lucky or unlucky, it was hard to say.

After all, staying out meant avoiding danger and still clearing the instance safely.

Owen Dong sighed and waved his hand. “Whatever, you guys go.”

Pei Hongyu glanced at him once.

The ten of them swiped their tickets and entered. As soon as they stepped in, the dark space burst into colorful lights. On the opposite rack were eight rows of brightly colored balloons, with eight balloons in each row. Rotating lights and cheerful jingles filled the air with a childlike atmosphere.

Next to the balloon stand was a ring-toss area with eight rows of plaster dolls, eight dolls per row. Each row had only one red doll; the rest were white.

A staff member approached, smiling. “Who’s tossing rings, and who’s popping balloons?”

Everyone exchanged glances—this round was clearly different from the previous eight. Something felt off.

Pei Hongyu asked coldly, “What are the rules of the game?”

The staff member’s smile grew eerie, his voice turning cold and sinister. “The rules are simple: one person tosses rings, one pops balloons, the other eight hide inside the balloons.”

Everyone’s expressions changed. They heard the staff member slowly chuckle. “The game has eight rounds. Each time you successfully land a ring, you’ll get a clue about one teammate’s location. If you can solve the clue and pinpoint where your teammate is hiding, you can avoid popping their balloon and blowing their head off~”

Finally, they understood the rules—and everyone’s expressions darkened.

There were eight rows of balloons with eight balloons each. The eight players would each be hidden inside one row. Successfully landing a ring would yield a clue, helping to avoid accidentally popping a teammate’s balloon.

But if you missed, you’d have to shoot blind.

One in eight chance—of personally blowing a teammate’s head off.

Simple. Brutal. Bloody.

The system had saved its “grand finale” for last.

Cheng Jiayue burst into tears. “I—I don’t want to be a balloon…”

Pei Hongyu said coldly, “Then what do you want to be? Toss the rings? Shoot the gun? Can you guarantee you’ll land every toss? Or that if you don’t get a clue, you’ll still be able to shoot without hesitation, knowing you might be aiming at a teammate’s head?”

Cheng Jiayue’s face turned pale, her sobs faltering.

No matter what role one played in this game—ring-tosser, shooter, or balloon—they’d all be under immense psychological pressure.

But who wanted to leave their life in someone else’s hands?

What if their teammate missed? What if the shooter hit them…?

At least—the ring-tosser and shooter had a shot at surviving.

Li Zhi suddenly asked the staff, “Do the clues we get from the rings directly tell us the teammate’s location, or do they require solving a puzzle?”

The staff was momentarily stunned, seemingly surprised she had noticed that detail. After a pause, he replied, “They require solving, of course.”

Li Zhi: “Is there a time limit?”

Staff: “One minute per clue.”

Li Zhi understood now. She turned to her teammates. “The key to this round is the ring toss. Not only does each ring have to land, but the clue has to be solved within a minute to pinpoint the hiding spot. Eight lives are hanging on the ring-tosser.”

Her gaze swept across everyone’s faces. “Who’s willing to toss?”

Who was willing to take on the weight of eight people’s lives?

If they failed to land a ring, or solve the clue in time, or if the shooter fired blind and hit a teammate…

At that moment, everyone shrank back.

Maybe they could save themselves, but they weren’t confident enough to trade eight lives for their own. Whether out of conscience or fear of being drowned in viewers’ spit, they couldn’t do it—not yet.

After a pause, Li Zhi spoke calmly: “I’ll do it.”

Chi Yi’s eyes suddenly stung. “Zhi Zhi…”

Li Zhi held out her hand. The eight plastic rings were placed on her wrist. She turned to her teammates. “Trust me.”

Trust me.

Chi Yi bit her lip. “I trust you! I’ll be a balloon!”

Qi Yongyi and You Jingmeng stepped forward too. “We trust Big Boss Zhi—we’ll be balloons.”

The others had no choice. Shooting required accuracy. If Li Zhi gave an exact location and they missed, hitting a teammate instead, they wouldn’t even need to wait to exit the instance—they’d probably be killed by the others right here.

Pei Hongyu took the shooter’s position. He used to be a top player in a shooting club.

The eight players were taken away by the staff.

Only Li Zhi and Pei Hongyu remained.

Pei Hongyu turned his head and saw Li Zhi standing at the white line outside the ring-toss area, calmly weighing the plastic rings in her hand. Her expression was as composed as ever, as if she wasn’t holding the weight of eight lives.

At that moment, Pei Hongyu finally admitted—he was not as good as Li Zhi.

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