Chapter 166: Phantom Shadows of the Deserted Village

The night wind howled through the withered grass of the abandoned village, making a rustling sound like countless footsteps treading closer. It sent shivers down the spines of viewers watching the stream.

Inside the main hall filled with coffins, only the faint glow of a phone screen offered a hint of light. Li Zhi had even turned the brightness to its lowest setting. The phone rested in a corner, camera angled just above her head, facing the window.

Despite it being the dead of night, the gifts in the livestream never ceased, and the viewer count continued to rise. After all, sleeping in a coffin room was one of the highlights of supernatural streams. Viewers kept shouting about how scared they were while secretly hoping for something shocking to happen.

Like maybe a coffin lid creaking open, and Liu Daqiang's ghost crawling out with a knife to chase the streamer.

Unfortunately, only the calm sound of the streamer’s breathing filled the darkness. Nothing unexpected happened all the way till dawn. The audience, a bit disappointed, started slowing down on the gifts.

Then, just past midnight, a pair of green-glowing eyes flashed past the pitch-black window.

The sluggish chat exploded again:

— What the hell was that?! Did I just imagine it?
— I saw it too! Green eyes! Looked like a wolf!
— What kind of deserted village has wolves? Wouldn’t it starve to death?
— Wake up, streamer! Get up! Ghosts won’t come in, but wild animals will!

The glowing eyes appeared again—this time clearer. In the darkness, they looked fierce. Viewers realized it wasn’t a wolf.

It was a dog.

No—a dead dog.

Half its head was gone, seemingly chopped clean off, with raw, bloody tissue exposed. It panted heavily, tongue hanging, drool dripping, eyes filled with a hungry, feral glint.

Screams filled the chat across both the in-game and real-world stream.

Despite knowing she couldn’t see the messages, everyone furiously spammed “Wake up!” A few seconds later, Li Zhi really did slowly sit up on camera.

She gripped her baseball bat, eyes fixed on the window and the mangled dog’s head.

The heavy panting made it impossible to sleep through.

The beast stared at her but then, strangely, turned its head, as if someone behind it had called.

Then it left, vanishing into the night—and didn’t return.

Li Zhi exhaled, put down the bat, and lay back down to sleep.

The gifts started pouring in again:

— Wait, you're STILL going to sleep?! Are you even human??
— So Liu Daqiang even killed the dog? Half its skull was gone. Brutal!
— Monster! Wiped out a whole family and didn't even spare the dog!
— Who called the dog away? Its owner? But didn’t they die too? Why save the streamer?

After that eerie moment, the rest of the night passed without further incident. Li Zhi slept peacefully until morning.

When she opened her eyes, pale daylight filtered through the dusty glass, revealing a small handprint on the window.

It was clearly human—and judging from the size and proportions, likely left by a child, about ten years old.

No children could still be alive in this place. It had to be a ghost.

But if the ghosts avoided this house, why had this child ghost dared peek through the window?

Li Zhi recalled the yellow talisman on the gate when she arrived. It had sealed the ghosts outside. But she had broken it entering, so now the ghosts were free to move in or out.

Was the little ghost watching her?

Was that half-headed dog the child’s pet?

She pondered a moment but put the thought aside. After brushing her hair, she picked up her phone and greeted her viewers: “Good morning, everyone. Sleep well?”

— YOU’RE the only one who slept well!!!
— We spent the whole night terrified while YOU snored peacefully!
— What’s the plan today? Dig up some graves maybe?? YES!
— Two million likes already! Let’s hit three million so she’ll open a coffin tonight!

Li Zhi smiled: “Alright. Three million likes and I’ll open the first coffin. Every extra 500,000 after that, I’ll open another. Whether we crack all six coffins tonight is up to you.”

The chat erupted. One comment caught her eye:

— Liujiacun is cursed. You should leave while it's still daylight. If you stay, you will die.

Most messages since she entered the dungeon had been egging her into more danger. This was the first warning to leave.

And the tone suggested insider knowledge.

Could it be one of the escaped villagers?

Li Zhi scrolled up to check the ID: “OnlyWishSafe.” A very ordinary name. Unfortunately, livestreams in this dungeon didn’t show user profiles—just names.

If she asked directly, they likely wouldn’t respond. Better to wait and gather more clues. If the commenter was involved in the massacre of the village chief’s family, they’d want to keep the truth hidden. That’s when she could strike.

Pretending not to notice the warning, Li Zhi chatted casually a while longer before getting ready to resume exploring.

As she adjusted her phone mount, another line of chat slid by:

— Zhizhi, be careful.

This was a livestream in a dungeon. These viewers didn’t know her real name.

She glanced at the ID: “BulletScreenInfoCollector.” She paused, surprised, and cautiously asked, “A Xi?”

A quick reply came:

— It’s me.

Li Zhi’s surprise turned to relief. Li Jianxi was here. That meant, like the other viewers, he was still alive and watching from the real world.

There were no human NPCs in this instance, but there were real viewers. Though he couldn’t appear physically, he could still join the chat.

Her heart softened. “Where are you? Are you okay?”

— Watching your stream like everyone else. I’m fine.

He didn’t elaborate, but Li Zhi suspected most of the viewers weren’t “real” people. They were just digital echoes—data with human-like awareness but no physical form.

Some viewers got curious:

— Who’s the streamer chatting with? A friend?
— Her smile is so soft and sweet when she talks!
— You’ve got this, streamer! After this explodes, you can just stay home and livestream on charm alone!

Li Zhi winked at the camera: “Talking to my boyfriend. He’s here watching me.”

The chat exploded with congratulations. She saw that Li Jianxi had changed his ID from “BulletScreenInfoCollector” to his real name.

It was a signal.

He must have seen the warning message too. If survivors from Liujiacun were watching the stream, they might slip up and reveal something important.

Li Jianxi had likely created that earlier ID to signal that he was here to help monitor for useful information in the chat.

Even if he couldn’t be with her in person, it still felt like companionship.

Li Zhi set the phone back into the mount, did a quick wash with bottled water, munched on some compressed biscuits, and resumed her exploration of the village chief’s home.

Now in daylight, the hidden details were clearer. In the courtyard’s overgrown grass, faint bloodstains remained between the cracks of the stone slabs.

Even after years of rain, the blood hadn’t washed away—proof of a truly horrific slaughter.

She followed the blood trails from the courtyard to the main hall, where splatters stretched up the stairs to the second floor. The blood seemed to originate from a bedroom upstairs.

Because the roof had a hole, the room was even filthier than the rest. Most furniture had rotted; dead branches, rat nests, and bird droppings filled the space.

The door had collapsed, but signs of blood and damage were everywhere.

Li Zhi lifted the door and saw it had been kicked in. Hinges were warped from brute force. This was no natural decay—it had been violently destroyed.

Inside the room, she found a thick iron chain tied to the bedframe. The rotted wood let her pull it free easily.

She opened the closet—mostly men’s clothes, with a few items for young women.

This had to be Liu Daqiang and Zhou Xuan’s bedroom.

Since Liu Daqiang had mania, the village chief likely tried to restrain him after the initial killings. That chain was meant to lock him down.

But if he’d been chained, how did he escape and continue murdering? Did someone let him out?

Li Zhi reconstructed the scene in her mind.

After several killings, the villagers had had enough. Banding together, they stormed the house to kill Liu Daqiang. A violent fight broke out—from upstairs to the ground floor, spilling into the courtyard.

In the end, the chief’s entire family perished. Some attacking villagers likely died too.

The survivors, terrified, blamed everything on the now-dead Liu Daqiang. Then they sealed the family’s corpses in coffins and fled the village.

That explained the hurried departure signs she found in the untouched homes.

In the bedroom, she found daily essentials and a bottle of medication—presumably for Liu Daqiang’s condition.

But curiously, there were very few signs of Zhou Xuan’s presence. No photos, no wedding certificate—nothing but a few clothes.

It was like she was only a guest.

Were they truly married?

Li Zhi remembered the comment urging her to dig up the village cemetery.

If Zhou Xuan died naturally, there should be a grave. If she died otherwise, they would have had to dispose of her body somehow. Finding her grave might reveal more.

With few leads left in the house, Li Zhi went downstairs. She pulled offerings from her backpack, lit three incense sticks, placed them in the censer, then slung her backpack over her shoulder and left the courtyard.