Chapter 155: Butterfly Village

According to the setup of this dungeon, Li Jianxi was supposed to be a failed cocoon-breaker of Butterfly Village, a remnant who managed to escape. The villagers had been hunting him ever since but never succeeded. He must’ve been hiding here all along, which meant this place should be relatively safe.

After a long night of chaos, everyone was exhausted and hungry. The temperature in the mountains dropped sharply at night. Once Jiao Shen confirmed with Li Zhi that it was safe to start a fire here, he led a few players to gather firewood nearby, soon building up a warm blaze.

After leading them to the cave, Li Jianxi disappeared again, unsure whether he feared losing control and hurting others, or simply didn’t dare face Li Zhi.

The fire crackled, dispelling the damp chill clinging to the mountain walls. Seven of them huddled around the flames. Despite having gone through numerous dungeons, this was their first real wilderness survival scenario. But compared to fighting ghosts and monsters, they were more than willing to face the trials of nature in the mountains.

As they warmed their hands, sleepiness crept over them. Someone’s stomach suddenly rumbled loudly, and someone couldn’t help but mutter, “I’m starving.”

Han Wenlin suddenly pulled out a chocolate bar from his pocket—a rectangular piece of dark chocolate, which he broke into seven pieces. “Only this, let’s make do.”

Xu Yan grinned and gave him a playful punch. “Not bad, kid. This should keep us going until dawn.”

Han Wenlin popped a small piece into his mouth, but his voice sounded low. “Tao Tao gave it to me.”

Li Zhi savored the sweetness in her mouth before suddenly speaking, “Tao Tao should still be alive.”

Han Wenlin, unaware that she had destroyed Ah Tai’s cocoon, looked up in surprise. “Really?”

Li Zhi nodded and explained her earlier deductions to the group. Finally, Han Wenlin let out a long sigh of relief. He hadn’t shown it, but ever since Tao Tao disappeared, guilt had been gnawing at him.

Even though he knew in his heart she was just an NPC, not a real person, Tao Tao had called him brother, shared her secret stash of snacks with him—she had been so vibrant, so lively, it was hard to treat her as nothing but lines of data.

After hearing Li Zhi’s explanation, everyone’s expressions twisted in disgust. These butterfly people really were depraved—kidnapping people to parasite them, even perversely switching between male and female hosts just to experience both genders. The thought alone was sickening.

Guan Xiaoxing couldn’t help but ask, “So those people we saw in our memories when we were burning the cocoons—who exactly were they?”

Li Zhi pulled her jacket tighter around herself, her voice low in the stillness of the mountain night. “If I’m not mistaken, they were likely a tribe from the southern regions of ancient China known for their Gu arts. You can tell from their clothing style—it’s reminiscent of the Miao region, famous for its mastery of Gu. The real theme of this dungeon is actually Gu.”

Previously, both players and spectators found the concept of butterflies turning into people too absurd, but with this explanation, it suddenly made sense.

“Hundreds of years ago, during the feudal dynasty, this southern tribe was massacred for reasons unknown. The surviving members fled, relentlessly hunted until they reached this very mountain. Desperate and with nowhere left to go, they used a forbidden technique of their tribe.”

Someone asked, “How do you know it was forbidden?”

Han Wenlin rolled his eyes. “If it wasn’t forbidden, why didn’t they use it earlier?”

Li Zhi continued, “This forbidden technique required half of their people to sacrifice their lives and transform into cocoons, while the other half offered themselves to Gu insects, transforming into butterflies. Let’s call this technique the Butterfly Gu. The price they paid for survival was that from then on, none of them could reproduce. Their bloodline ended with this generation.”

Xu Yan said quietly, “Given the situation, they had no other choice but to survive like that. That’s why they kept parasitizing others, using this grotesque method to continue their bloodline. The moment they stopped, their entire tribe would vanish forever.”

Guan Xiaoxing clenched his fists. “Still, that doesn’t justify killing so many innocent people!”

Jiao Shen tossed another handful of firewood into the flames, his tone calm. “The tribes back then were deeply bound by faith. Just look at them—you can tell how devoted they were. They would do anything to continue their lineage. But after so many years… who knows why they’re still parasitizing people now. Only they know.”

They targeted the young and beautiful, discarding bodies when they tired of them, parasitizing powerful figures to control the village’s development.

As time passed, their original beliefs were likely long gone. What was left was nothing more than a group of monsters too afraid to give up immortality.

And from Yin Fu’s expression of complete resignation, it was clear that this tribe must’ve experienced internal division over the years. There had to be those who disagreed with continuing this way. But in the end, they had become prisoners of their own cocoons, unable to escape their monstrous fate.

After chatting for a while, they more or less pieced together the full story of this dungeon. Another player sighed. “Ugh, I’m still starving.”

Han Wenlin curled up on the ground. Earlier, when they were gathering firewood, they’d also collected some broad leaves to use as makeshift bedding. “Sleep. If you’re asleep, you won’t feel hungry. Tomorrow, we’ll search for rabbits nearby.”

Just as he said that, a fluttering sound echoed from outside the rock walls. Li Jianxi reappeared, emerging from the darkness, arms full of wild fruits, which he casually dumped in front of them.

One fruit smacked Han Wenlin right on the head with a thud. He grimaced in pain but didn’t dare complain.

Besides the wild fruits, there was also a wild rabbit—its belly already torn open by sharp claws, clearly dead. The rabbit looked fat and meaty, sending a wave of joy through the players. Forget sleeping—they immediately got up to skin it. Luckily, there was water dripping down from the rock wall, forming a small pool in a shallow trench outside.

After washing and butchering the rabbit, they skewered the meat and roasted it over the fire.

There were no seasonings, but to be sitting deep in a mountain forest in a dungeon, roasting fresh rabbit meat was already a luxury. The atmosphere warmed considerably, and for a moment, they all forgot they were in a deadly scenario, simply enjoying the fleeting comfort of the present.

Li Zhi glanced outside—Li Jianxi had vanished again, nowhere to be seen. She went back to the fire. When the meat was ready, they all silently agreed to give the fattest rabbit leg to her. After all, they all knew it was because of Li Zhi they even had this meal.

Xu Yan took a bite of the rabbit meat and leaned in to whisper to Li Zhi, “That Li Jianxi… he’s really…” She paused, searching for the right word, then said with a grin, “Devoted.”

Li Zhi smiled faintly, neither agreeing nor denying.

With full stomachs and warmth from the fire, they could finally sleep. They arranged watches in shifts to keep the fire going and ward off the cold. Otherwise, in this temperature, freezing to death wasn’t impossible.

Li Zhi took the last watch, woken gently by Xu Yan around three in the morning. Xu Yan mouthed silently, “I’m going to sleep now.”

Li Zhi nodded and sat up, rubbing her eyes.

Xu Yan had just added fresh firewood before leaving, so the flames were burning bright. Li Zhi poked at the fire with a stick, sending sparks flying.

Suddenly, a shadow fell across her. Li Zhi turned her head—and saw Li Jianxi hanging upside down from the edge of the rock wall, half his body dangling as he stared at her. The firelight reflected off the fine blue-gold powder coating his face, making him look both eerie and strangely beautiful.

Li Zhi couldn’t help but laugh. She tiptoed over to him. “What, are you cosplaying a bat?”

In truth, Li Jianxi’s mind wasn’t entirely lucid anymore. Many of his actions were purely instinctive. Only after being called out by Li Zhi did he realize what he was doing, his expression turning sheepish as he slowly slid down from the wall.

The large wings on his back folded in neatly, making him look like a child caught misbehaving at kindergarten, hands awkwardly behind his back.

Li Zhi actually wanted to tell him about the memory she saw—about his identity as a player trapped in the game. If Li Jianxi became aware, he might start taking action against the system from within, which could be a massive help to their mission.

Tan Manyu had once mentioned that a special department tracked Li Jianxi, recording all his actions in dungeons without Li Zhi, analyzing his every move.

But clearly, this version of Li Jianxi, already transformed into a monster, wasn’t in any state for rational thought. Telling him now might only make things worse. She could only wait for the next dungeon, when he was himself again, to share everything with him.

Besides, seeing Li Jianxi like this raised another worry for her.

Just from her threatening the system and peeking at his memories, Li Jianxi had been punished by being forcibly turned into a monster. If he learned the truth, acted on it, would he face even harsher punishment?

Li Jianxi tilted his head slightly, his blue eyes locked on her, keenly sensing her emotional shift.

The wings behind him fluttered slightly. Suddenly, he stepped forward and pulled her into a hug. Then, with a powerful sweep of his wings, he carried her upward in a rush of wind.

The sudden gust woke Jiao Shen on the outer edge. He glanced up, saw Li Zhi being carried off, sighed silently, and got up to take over her watch.

After all, they were sleeping in someone else’s den.

Up in the sky, Li Zhi realized the cliff wasn’t as tall as they had thought—its view obscured by dense trees along the rock wall. In reality, it was just a broken cliff edge. Because of its high position, when Li Jianxi set her down at the peak, she was finally able to witness the vast, open night sky in full.

The mountain forest was silent, bathed in silver moonlight like a layer of frost. Li Jianxi tugged her by the wrist to the edge, where a large rock jutted out. He sat on it earnestly, pointing upward, his voice hoarse but soft. “Look at the stars.”

Above them, the stars sparkled with exceptional clarity. In this untouched wilderness, they could even see the star belt stretching across the sky like a luminous, sacred jade ribbon—so beautiful it felt like a single glance could cleanse one’s soul.

Li Zhi raised her head to admire it, but soon lowered her gaze to the man beside her.

Li Jianxi reached out, cupping the back of her head, gently lifting her chin to face the sky again. “Look at the stars.”

He was like an innocent, bewildered creature, acting purely on instinct, yet bringing with him a uniquely human sense of romance.