Chapter 15: "The Village Burial"
Even in this critical moment, the group of seasoned entertainers couldn’t help but share the same thought as the car keys fell from the sky:
What terrible acting.
But there was no time to question why an NPC would help them. Torches snaked toward them in the dark. Li Zhi snatched the keys off the ground. "Go!"
Lian Qinglin’s voice brimmed with excitement. "Let me drive! I’m the drift king of Akina!"
Worried about potential supernatural hazards on the road, Li Zhi tossed the keys to the overconfident teen without hesitation.
Chi Yi hesitated. "Don’t you need a B1 license for this?"
Lian Qinglin paused mid-door-pull, giving her a baffled look. "Since when do we follow traffic laws in a dungeon?"
Fair point.
Outside the dungeon, fans ruthlessly exposed their idol:
[He failed his driving test three times! He doesn’t even have a license!]
[B1? He couldn’t even pass the automatic transmission exam!]
[Oh wow, acting all tough just because dungeons don’t have traffic cops?]
[Lian Qinglin, you’re going to lose Li Zhi’s trust like this!]
Unaware they’d boarded a vehicle helmed by an unlicensed 19-year-old, the players crammed inside. Before they could steady themselves, the hearse roared to life with a violent lurch.
Chi Yi tumbled into the aisle, shrieking, "Lian Qinglin!"
"Sorry sorry!" came the frantic apology from the front. "Haven’t driven stick shift in ages! I’ll smooth it out!"
The metal seats gleamed coldly in the paper-effigy-free cabin. Through the rear window, the pursuing torches shrank into the distance. For once, exhilaration outweighed fear.
The vehicle—no, wreckage—of their journey along the mountain path left Chi Yi carsick. "Qinglin, do you actually have a license?"
Her answer came in the form of a drift sharp enough to scrape paint off the guardrails.
Chi Yi: "Hurk—"
Miraculously, they reached Guanping Bridge intact. Moonlight bathed the fog-draped structure in pallid light. Standing at their initial spawn point again, the group’s mood turned somber.
There’d been no time to question Li Zhi’s destination during their frantic escape. Now, watching her approach the bridge’s stone marker, they hurried after.
They’d examined this stele on day one, finding nothing. But when Li Zhi produced a memorial tablet from the mass grave—comparing its dates to the bridge’s inauguration year—the horrifying correlation became clear.
Gao Shijun’s eyes bulged. "What does this mean?"
"Remember the newspaper?" Li Zhi tapped the dates. "The county planned new rural tourism zones—the perfect escape from poverty for remote villages. Guanping’s population kept declining because it was too poor. This bridge was their lifeline."
Recalling the circled news article, someone asked, "So the village chief pushed for this bridge to qualify for the program? But why the deaths?"
Li Zhi gestured at the surrounding mountains. "Tourism requires accessibility. Without this bridge, reaching Guanping meant hours of mountain roads. Would you invest in such a village?"
The pallbearers had mentioned villagers emptying savings to build it. The bridge connected highways to mountain paths, slashing travel time.
Xu Shu frowned. "They had to finish before policy announcements to stand a chance. The follow-up article came a year later—this was urgent."
Li Zhi retrieved two shovels from the hearse, her voice calm. "Desperation breeds extremes. Let’s exhume the stele. If it’s tied to that mass grave, there’ll be suppression talismans beneath."
Xu Shu and Lian Qinglin took over digging.
Silence stretched, broken only by shovel strikes—until Gao Shijun screamed, "They’re coming!"
Torchlight snaked toward them along mountain paths. The putter of three-wheelers carried on the wind.
Zhu Zhibo gritted his teeth. "They’re just elderly villagers! Fight them!"
The diggers accelerated into blurry motion. The stele ran deep, its base stubbornly entrenched. As the mob closed in—led by Uncle Jiu brandishing his rusted axe atop a trike—Li Zhi smirked.
"They rushed here this fast? Confirms we’re on the right track."
Gao Shijun trembled. "Then dig faster!"
Xu Shu snapped, "Scared of ghosts and humans? Go stall them!"
Spurred by shame, Gao Shijun straightened. Right—these were just people! He marched forward as Lian Qinglin passed his shovel to Chi Yi and joined Li Zhi.
The villagers stormed the bridge armed with farm tools, their malice palpable.
Li Zhi whispered, "Capture their leader first."
Gao Shijun’s fists clenched, face twitching with adrenaline.
Uncle Jiu sneered from his trike. "You chose this!"
Lian Qinglin flipped him off. "1v1 me, coward!"
The old man waved his gang forward. "Attack together!"
Lian Qinglin: "..."
So much for honor.
Just as violence erupted, Chi Yi’s cry pierced the night: "We hit something!"
The ground trembled. Villagers froze mid-charge, terror replacing fury. Someone wailed, "They broke the seal!"
The mass grave and bridge stele—two suppression points, both now violated. Li Zhi glanced at the toppled marker’s base. Crimson talismans glared back.
Xu Shu shouted, "Names carved here match the grave’s!"
Everything clicked for Li Zhi.
The quaking intensified. Rocks tumbled as the bridge bucked like a whip. Near the entrance, the earth bulged grotesquely—something writhing beneath, straining to break free.