Chapter 17: Clearance Rewards
Consciousness blurred for a moment. When everyone regained their senses, they found themselves standing in a bright, square, snow-white room. Inside, there were sofas, a coffee table with cups placed on it—it looked like a simple lounge.
Several newcomers had assumed they would be teleported out immediately after clearing the instance. Instead, they found themselves in this unfamiliar place. After a brief moment of panic, they calmed down slightly upon recognizing their familiar companions.
Before they could voice their questions, Xu Shu proactively explained, “This is a safe room. After clearing an instance, players enter here first to tally their popularity and receive clearance rewards. Inside the safe room, players cannot harm each other—violators face severe punishment. This place is absolutely safe and not broadcast to the audience. The safe room will close in ten minutes.”
Lian Qinglin exclaimed excitedly, “There are rewards?”
“Of course.” The excitement in Xu Shu’s eyes was enough to prove how enticing the rewards were. “This is the real reason players are so eager to tackle instances.”
Li Zhi withdrew her surveying gaze and looked at Xu Shu. “Was Gao Shijun left behind in the instance?”
The other three finally realized—there were only five people in the room. Gao Shijun was missing.
At the start of the instance, the system had stated that the player with the lowest popularity would be eliminated and become dinner for the ghosts. Perhaps the past few days of danger and excitement had made them momentarily forget this elimination mechanism. Now, reminded by Li Zhi, their expressions darkened.
Xu Shu shook his head. “I don’t know. But the lowest-ranked player is never brought into the safe room. They might be left in the instance or already eaten by the ghosts. The system eliminates them the moment the instance is cleared.”
The relief and excitement of clearing the instance vanished, replaced by chilling fear.
How could such a bizarre, deadly place make people “eager to tackle instances,” as Xu Shu claimed?
But soon, they understood why.
A screen appeared on the white wall of the room. As the rankings displayed, the system’s voice rang out:
—Voting for this session has concluded. Popularity statistics are as follows:
—1st Place: Lian Qinglin. Total Popularity: 2,807,610.
—2nd Place: Chi Yi. Total Popularity: 1,068,920.
—3rd Place: Zhu Zhibo. Total Popularity: 620,991.
—4th Place: Li Zhi. Total Popularity: 590,878.
—5th Place: Xu Shu. Total Popularity: 231,900.
The cold numbers were announced one by one. But after the rankings were displayed, the system’s voice continued:
“Based on player performance in the instance, Li Zhi has received an S-rank evaluation. Reward: 1.5x popularity multiplier. Adjusted total popularity: 886,317. Rank upgraded to 3rd Place. Keep up the good work.”
Xu Shu looked surprised. “Your world has quite a large population.” He turned to Lian Qinglin. “You actually got over two million votes. In my world, that would’ve put you in the global top ten.”
Lian Qinglin smirked. “Prepare to be shocked—I have 50 million followers on Weibo.”
Xu Shu: “……”
Chi Yi rolled her eyes. “Please, how many of those are bots? The domestic entertainment scene only has so many real people. The fact that you got over two million votes is probably thanks to your fans campaigning for you. Besides, with so many live streams happening globally, getting a million votes is already impressive.”
Fans made up less than 10% of the global population. For the first session, relying solely on their existing fanbase to achieve such numbers was remarkable.
But it also showed the upper limit of fan support. To gain more votes in the future, they’d have to win over the audience with their performance—just like Li Zhi, who went from a nobody with barely over a hundred votes to third place, purely through skill.
“This instance even rates MVPs?” Lian Qinglin asked curiously. “Does this happen every session?”
Xu Shu nodded. “The best-performing player in each session gets a multiplier bonus. It’s one of the system’s ways to encourage active participation.”
Li Zhi looked away from the screen. “And the second method is rewards?”
As if on cue, the system’s voice echoed in everyone’s minds:
“Popularity tally complete. Rewards will now be distributed based on each player’s deepest desires.”
Li Zhi’s vision blurred. The others vanished, leaving her alone in the same spot. A panel appeared before her.
At the top floated a golden-glowing item: “Mystic Tortoise Shell.” Below it was the word “Claim.”
A tortoise shell? Did the system really understand her deepest desire?
As if sensing her doubt, the system coldly stated:
“Detected player’s deepest desire: Protect family from harm. The Mystic Tortoise Shell can be used outside instances, providing a protective barrier around the user’s residence. Blocks attacks from low-level ghosts in the real world.”
Li Zhi swiftly tapped “Claim.”
The cold, hard shell materialized in her hand, and its usage method automatically imprinted in her mind.
Next, two more items appeared on the panel—but this time, each had a price tag in points.
“Based on current world population, popularity can be exchanged for points at a 1:1000 ratio. Once exchanged, points cannot be refunded and will deduct from total popularity, affecting rankings. Choose wisely.”
Li Zhi quickly grasped the reward mechanism.
After clearing an instance, players received one free reward tied to their desires, plus two additional items purchasable with points.
Her current popularity was 880,000, which converted to 880 points. But the two items cost 599 and 699 points respectively.
Even if she exchanged all her popularity, she could only afford one.
From the clues she’d gathered, there was likely a global popularity leaderboard.
If she ranked 100th with 800,000 popularity, exchanging half for points would drop her to 400,000, knocking her out of the top 100.
Each instance’s popularity was cumulative, forming the global leaderboard. Like real-world streaming platforms, most viewers would naturally gravitate toward top-ranked players, boosting their exposure.
To claim all three rewards after each clearance, players needed more popularity—which meant entering more instances.
This was why Xu Shu said players were eager for instances.
They wanted these reward items.
What kind of items could make people risk death for them?
Li Zhi examined the two purchasable items:
- Limb Regeneration Pill
- Bewitching Perfume
She tapped the Limb Regeneration Pill, and its description appeared:
“Usable in the real world. Regrows lost limbs, restoring them to perfect condition.”
Regrow lost limbs?! Was it really that powerful?
If so, she understood why Xu Shu had been so fervent about the [Ghost] System and its rewards.
If she had a Limb Regeneration Pill, what about others? Could there be life-extending items? Height-increasing, beauty-enhancing, physique-boosting? Even power, wealth, status?
Once such reality-defying rewards appeared in the real world, what kind of chaos would they cause?
Human desires were bottomless. Once unleashed, like Pandora’s box, they could never be contained again.
Li Zhi’s gaze darkened as she checked the second item:
Bewitching Perfume:
“Usable only in instances. Masks human scent, making ghosts perceive the user as one of their own. Duration: 10 minutes.”
So that’s how it worked.
The three post-clearance rewards were:
- One free desire-based reward.
- One real-world utility item (purchasable with points).
- One instance-utility item (purchasable with points).
Higher clearance rates meant more popularity, which meant more rewards. Top players could claim all three every time, creating a snowball effect:
More items → Higher survival rates → More popularity → More items.
Eventually, they’d become what Xu Shu called “godlike players.”
Interesting.
The [Ghost] System’s entire mechanism—popularity rankings, rewards—all pointed to one goal:
Encourage players to join its “Horror Show.”
What a diligent director.
A 30-second countdown began. After some thought, Li Zhi exchanged 700,000 popularity for 700 points and bought the 699-point Bewitching Perfume.
When she returned to the safe room, her ranking had plummeted to last place. Lian Qinglin and Chi Yi had also spent points but remained high due to their initial totals. Zhu Zhibo and Xu Shu hadn’t exchanged anything.
With rewards distributed, the five reappeared in the safe room. Except for Xu Shu, everyone’s expressions were varied.
“Holy !” Lian Qinglin blurted. “Are these items for real?! I actually got a Death Note?!”
Li Zhi: “…”
Idiot. Just exposing his item like that.
Sure enough, the others’ eyes darkened. Chi Yi stared at him in disbelief. “Your deepest desire is that dark?”
Lian Qinglin waved his hands. “No! The Death Note was what I bought with points! My free reward was—”
“Can these items be stolen after we leave?” Li Zhi cut him off, turning to Xu Shu. “We worked hard for these rewards. What if someone tries to take them?”
Xu Shu smiled. “Don’t worry. Items can only be voluntarily traded or gifted. Any attempt to forcibly take another’s item will trigger severe backlash. If someone tries, just wait—once the backlash ends, the item returns to you. [Ghost] is fair.”
He glanced at the two-minute countdown on the screen. “If you want, you can trade items now. Besides the free reward, the other two are randomly generated each time. If you don’t get what you want, you can arrange trades beforehand.”
Li Zhi shook her head. “I’m good.”
The others also declined.
Xu Shu nodded. “Last minute—any other questions?”
Once the countdown ended, he’d return to his world. They’d never meet again.
After days of world-shattering revelations, they felt an odd camaraderie with this traveler from a parallel dimension.
Lian Qinglin clapped his shoulder. “I still don’t like you much, but… safe travels.”
Xu Shu’s eye twitched. “…Thanks.”
Li Zhi suddenly asked, “How can we make the [Ghost] System leave our world?”
Xu Shu froze, as if he’d never considered the question. After a pause, he shook his head.
“No one can. It won’t leave. From the moment it descended, your world was forever changed. My advice? Accept it. Adapt to it.”
10 seconds. The safe room would soon close.
Xu Shu gave Li Zhi a final look. “You’ll become this world’s god. And when you do, you’ll need [Ghost] more than anyone. May you reach the summit soon.”
3… 2… 1.
A flash of white light—
When Li Zhi opened her eyes, she was back in her bedroom.
Her first move was to check her pocket. The cold, hard Mystic Tortoise Shell was still there.
Just as Xu Shu had said.
Rewards could be brought out. Used.
The gears had begun turning. There was no going back.
Following the shell’s instructions, Li Zhi focused—
The golden shell vanished, and the house she’d grown up in shivered imperceptibly, as if something intangible had shifted.
The slight tremor alerted the three in the living room. Li Feng reacted first, striding toward the bedroom. “Zhi Zhi?”
Li Zhi stepped out. “Brother.”
Li Feng’s sharp features looked even more severe. He quickly scanned her, ensuring she was unharmed, then exhaled. “You’re back.”
Even after watching her clear the instance, he hadn’t relaxed until now.
Behind him, Li Shuang squealed and pounced. “Sis! You’re amazing! You’re my idol!”
Li Zhi let her cling like an excited puppy—until Li Feng dragged her away. “Your sister just got back. Give her space.”
“Zhi Zhi!” Shang Jinru’s eyes were still swollen. Without her children’s support, she might’ve cried herself blind these past few days.
Li Zhi hugged her gently. “Mom, I’m fine. You saw me, right?”
Shang Jinru sniffled. “That’s why I was so scared! Watching you risk your life—why did you have to take on those dangerous tasks? Do you know how terrified I was?”
Li Shuang interjected, “Mom, if Sis didn’t stand out, the audience wouldn’t have voted for her! What if she got eliminated? Now she’s famous! She even has a fan club!”
Li Zhi: “…”
How novel. After six years in the industry, this was her first fan club.
After calming her mother, Li Zhi explained the Mystic Tortoise Shell—a safeguard against the increasing supernatural threats.
Exhausted from days of tension, she showered and collapsed into bed.
The next morning, sunlight roused her.
Still groggy, she checked her phone—over a dozen missed calls.
An unfamiliar local number. She dialed back.
“Zhi Zhi! It’s me, Chi Yi! I had to pull so many strings to get your number!”
Li Zhi chuckled, sitting up. “What’s up?”
Chi Yi lowered her voice. “Zhi Zhi, my free reward was a Team Card. It lets me bind with another player and enter the next instance together. The system said rewards reflect our deepest desires—I kept thinking, If I have to keep doing this, I want to be with you. That’s probably why I got it.”
Team mechanics?
If players could form teams, alliances would inevitably emerge.
Li Zhi’s mind raced, but she kept her tone neutral. “Did you tell anyone else?”
“Of course not!” Chi Yi huffed. “I’m not as dumb as Lian Qinglin! But last night, more instances were cleared. Not everyone keeps secrets—some posted about the safe room and rewards. Do you know how chaotic the world is now? People are outraged, demanding to know why only celebrities get to enter instances.”
Li Zhi wasn’t surprised. “Rewards like these would destabilize society.”
Chi Yi sounded troubled. “Zhi Zhi… I don’t think the world will ever be the same. The government says they’re researching countermeasures, but it’s not working. For now, players are on their own. With our exposure, we’ll keep getting pulled into instances, like Xu Shu said. Can I use the Team Card with you?”
Before Li Zhi could respond, she hurriedly added, “I’ll train hard! I won’t drag you down! I even bought a Ghost-Repelling Kitchen Knife with my points—I’ll share it with you!”
Li Zhi had taken a liking to the sweet, earnest girl. “Sure.”
Chi Yi cheered. “I’ll come over later! Let’s team up before the next instance strikes!”
After arranging a meetup, Li Zhi got ready. Over breakfast, the Li siblings studied the live-streaming app.
Since yesterday, as more players cleared instances, the global popularity leaderboard had been updating. It displayed only the top 100, with names shifting constantly.
Unsurprisingly, international megastars dominated the top spots. Even Lian Qinglin, with his 2 million popularity, barely scraped 80th place.
Li Zhi, with her remaining 100,000 popularity, was nowhere close.
Besides the leaderboard, the app’s homepage had a small window labeled “My Exposure.”
Li Zhi’s exposure was nearing 1 million and climbing. But on Li Feng and Li Shuang’s phones, theirs read 1,200 and 480, respectively—static.
Li Zhi analyzed, “When I entered, the system said I was chosen because I’m a ‘beloved celebrity with sufficient exposure.’ This must be the metric—reach a threshold, and you qualify as a player.”
Li Feng frowned. “So anyone can enter if they gain enough exposure?”
Her brother always cut to the heart of the matter. “Exactly. The public outcry about unfairness? That’s probably [Ghost]’s goal—to turn everyone into players.”
Li Shuang hugged herself. “But why?”
Li Feng, a former soldier, scoffed. “What does any invading force want? Conquest.”
Li Zhi scrolled through the app’s bustling live streams. As soon as one batch of players cleared instances, new ones were dragged in—endless, unstoppable.
Xu Shu had said: Accept it. Adapt to it.
Accept a world infested with ghosts. Adapt to becoming players in a deadly game.
In Xu Shu’s world, [Ghost] had arrived ten years ago. What would their world look like in a decade?
Li Zhi clicked a random stream—an actor she’d worked with this year was being torn apart by zombies.
Comments screamed “So exciting!” Others wept.
She tried posting a criticism of [Ghost], but a notification popped up:
—Your comment violates live-stream rules. Post removed. Please be civil. Enjoy the show.
Heh. The [Ghost] System was shamelessly cunning.