Chapter 20: The Infant Tower

The notes were filled with hastily scribbled text and crude illustrations, clearly accumulated over time with no particular order. Each page recorded a different ritual.

The first page detailed a Rain Summoning Ritual, complete with gestures and incantations. The players flipped through the pages one by one, encountering increasingly absurd entries—"Stop a Baby’s Night Crying Technique," "Turn Stone to Gold," "Soul Summoning," "Mountain Moving and Sea Filling"—each more outrageous than the last.

Tian Mingjie couldn’t help but twitch his lips. "Is our 'master' just some con artist?"

"Look! There’s a Ghost Warding Technique here!"

Finally, they found something useful. The page depicted a formation that, when activated, could repel ghosts and protect those inside.

One player excitedly said, "Then we just need to set this up in the First Madam’s room, right?"

Another voiced skepticism: "Would the system really let us complete the mission this easily?"

Zhao Luan spoke up, "It’s not that simple. Look at the materials needed for this formation. We might not even gather them in three days."

"Rainwater untouched by the ground—what if it doesn’t rain? We’d have to perform the Rain Summoning Ritual first. Black dog blood—are there even any black dogs in this town? Incense ash from century-old agarwood—where the hell are we supposed to find that?"

The obscure requirements quickly deflated the players’ enthusiasm.

Zhao Luan flipped back to the first page. "Let’s try the Rain Summoning Ritual first. If it works, it proves the book’s contents are real. If not, there’s no point wasting time on the rest."

Everyone agreed. They went to find Steward Chen to help prepare the ritual.

Surprisingly, Steward Chen didn’t question their request and readily agreed. Zhao Luan also mentioned needing black dog blood and century-old agarwood. The steward admitted the latter would be difficult to procure quickly but promised to have his people search for it.

The Jin family’s servants worked efficiently. Within an hour, the ritual platform was ready—incense, offerings, freshly slaughtered livestock—everything except someone to perform the dance.

The master’s notes depicted the ritual movements with crude stick figures. Li Zhi studied them for a moment and found them amusingly reminiscent of the second set of radio calisthenics—The Rising Sun.

Chi Yi nudged her. "What’s so funny?"

Li Zhi grinned. "The stick figures are cute."

Chi Yi stared at the scribbled illustrations in disbelief. "I seriously question your taste." She tilted her chin toward the corner. "Aren’t you going to perform the dance? Zhao Luan’s about to steal the spotlight."

Li Zhi glanced over. Zhao Luan was meticulously practicing the stick-figure movements in the corner.

"Let him do it," Li Zhi said cheerfully. "I’ve never seen someone perform a shamanic dance before."

Chi Yi glared at her. "If you keep this up, he’ll take MVP! Aren’t you even a little worried? Has 1.5x the points lost its appeal?"

She had an unshakable belief that no one but Li Zhi deserved MVP—though she didn’t realize she sounded like an obsessed fan.

Under Chi Yi’s reproachful gaze, Li Zhi conceded. "Fine. I’ll try harder next time."

Chi Yi: "……"

Meanwhile, Zhao Luan began the ritual. His boxing background lent him surprising grace, and his movements carried an odd, forceful elegance.

He shook a small bell as he danced, its delicate chime echoing through the shadowed courtyard. The eerie motions and murmured chants resembled an ancient summoning.

The already gloomy Qingyu Town seemed to darken further, as if steeped in ghostly energy.

Chi Yi shivered and tightened her grip on Li Zhi’s hand. "Zhi, is that really a rain dance? The system loves tricking us—what if it’s not a rain summoning but… something else?"

At the altar, Zhao Luan’s movements suddenly shifted. His once-powerful gestures softened unnaturally, his posture twisting into something distinctly feminine—graceful yet dripping with resentment.

Li Zhi’s relaxed demeanor vanished. She shot to her feet.

The other players noticed the change too. Someone called out, "Zhao Luan, what’s wrong?!"

Zhao Luan straightened slowly, tilting his head with an eerie, coquettish grace. He brushed a nonexistent strand of hair behind his ear, his muscular frame moving with the poise of a secluded noblewoman—a grotesque, chilling sight.

In a shrill, mournful voice, he asked, "Have you seen my child?"

"AHHH—GHOST!!"

The nearby players scattered in panic. The enraged spirit inside Zhao Luan swept her gaze over them, her voice turning shriller. "Did you take my child?!"

A cold wind howled through the courtyard.

"How did this happen?! Wasn’t this supposed to summon rain?!"

"We’ve been tricked! That book was a trap!"

Li Zhi leapt down the steps. "Chi Yi, the knife."

Chi Yi hastily handed her the Exorcism Cleaver.

Gripping the blade, Li Zhi strode toward Zhao Luan with murderous intent.

The ghost sensed her approach and turned—just in time to see the cleaver hurtling toward her neck with terrifying precision.

Even the other players froze, certain they were about to witness a decapitation.

Zhao Luan’s throat emitted a furious, unwilling screech.

A gust of wind erupted. His body shuddered, and his eyes snapped open—just as the blade halted a hair’s breadth from his jugular.

He stared at Li Zhi in horror. "What the hell are you doing?!"

Li Zhi smiled sweetly. "Exorcising you." She withdrew the cleaver. "You’re welcome."

The audience erupted:

[That blade was 0.01cm from his throat!]
[How did a rain dance summon a ghost?! That book is definitely cursed!]
[Zhao Luan should kowtow to Li Zhi!]
[Wonder how it feels to be saved by the teammate you tried to sacrifice?]
[Where are Zhao Luan’s fans now? Weren’t they bragging he’d solo-clear this?]
[His fans should kowtow to Li Zhi too—they mocked her plenty before!]

Zhao Luan’s expression twisted. He wasn’t stupid—he’d lost consciousness mid-ritual and woke up to this. He knew exactly what had happened.

His initial wariness toward Li Zhi had faded after her seemingly mediocre performance. Now, she’d upstaged him spectacularly, earning herself a surge in popularity.

But she had saved him. Swallowing his pride, he redirected his anger toward the cursed notebook.

He stormed to the altar, snatching the book to tear it apart.

Li Zhi intercepted him. "What are you doing?"

Zhao Luan snarled, "You saw it yourself! That ritual was a lie! None of this can be trusted!"

Li Zhi tucked the book away. "No need to destroy it. I’ll keep it as a souvenir."

"Why would you want this thing?!"

"The handwriting’s pretty."

Zhao Luan gritted his teeth.

She’s definitely messing with me.

The commotion drew Steward Chen, who arrived with a stern expression. "What is going on?!"

The players hesitated. How could they explain they’d accidentally summoned the previous madam while trying to summon rain?

Steward Chen’s gaze darkened. "Rain summoning is a bridge between mortals and spirits. The ritual leaves the body vulnerable to possession! How could you perform it without protective rites?!"

The players: "……"

The book didn’t mention that!

Chi Yi jumped in with an Oscar-worthy performance: "Of course we’re the master’s disciples! But he usually led the rituals—we’re still learning!"

The others nodded frantically.

Steward Chen eyed them skeptically but relented. "The First Madam’s delivery is a grave matter. Do not treat it lightly."

The players assured him they wouldn’t.

He glanced at the gathering clouds. "It grows late. Return to your rooms after dinner." Lowering his voice, he added, "You know of the previous madam. The manor is unsafe at night—do not wander."

The players agreed hastily, recalling the possessed Zhao Luan.

As Steward Chen left, Li Zhi watched him thoughtfully.

Chi Yi whispered, "What is it?"

Li Zhi handed back the cleaver. "Nothing. Just thinking he knows a lot."

Chi Yi pushed it back. "You keep it. I’m safer with you."

Li Zhi accepted.

After a lavish dinner, the players retired to their rooms under the dim red glow of lanterns. The heavy clouds overhead promised rain.

One player cheered, "The ritual worked! The book’s real—we just missed the protective steps!"

"Then the ghost-warding formation must be real too! Once we gather the materials, we can set it up."

They placed bowls outside to collect rainwater before retreating to their rooms.

Before parting, Tian Mingjie said to Li Zhi, "You should keep the master’s notes. We trust you with them."

The others agreed.

Zhao Luan’s face darkened. He remembered their distrust when he held the book. Now they handed it to Li Zhi without a second thought?

He slammed his door shut.

Chi Yi muttered, "What a sore loser. And he wants to lead?"

The players settled in for the night. Li Zhi placed the cleaver by her pillow, testing its position for quick access.

Chi Yi eyed her nervously. "You don’t sleepwalk, do you? If you chop me up in your sleep and claim ‘I love killing in my dreams,’ I’ll haunt you!"

Li Zhi lay down. "We’ve shared a bed before. You’d know."

Chi Yi gasped. "Phrasing! The audience will misunderstand!"

The audience:

[We already have!]
[More! We love it!]
[This duo’s comedy gold—hard to believe they’re in a horror game!]
[Shipping them!]

Night in the副本 was always the most dangerous, but sleep was unavoidable.

As Li Zhi drifted off, rain began to patter outside. The rhythmic sound lulled her toward sleep—until a sharp clang cut through the noise.

Her eyes snapped open.

The room was pitch-black. The sound—like something being knocked over—had vanished as quickly as it came.

She gripped the cleaver, listening intently. Only rain answered.

Eventually, she lay back down.

(Rule of horror: Investigating now = suicide.)

Just as she dozed off, another sound jerked her awake—a muffled struggle beside her.

Chi Yi was thrashing, trapped in a nightmare.

Li Zhi reached out—and her fingers met something wet, slimy, and moving.

The stench of mud and algae filled her nose.

In a flash, she seized the writhing mass and hacked it apart with the cleaver.

A shrill scream pierced the night as the thing retreated, leaving behind strands of waterlogged hair.

Chi Yi bolted upright, coughing and crying. "What the hell was that?!"

Li Zhi lit a lamp, revealing black hair strewn across the bed, still dripping with water and tangled with weeds.

They exchanged a glance.

The drowned madam.

Li Zhi checked the window. Wet streaks lined the frame—the hair had slithered in through the gaps.

(She crawled from the lake, her bloated corpse dragging through the courtyard, her hair slithering like snakes to strangle them in their sleep.)

If Li Zhi hadn’t woken—

She examined Chi Yi’s ears and throat. "Any discomfort?"

Chi Yi whimpered. "Not until you asked! Now my throat itches!"

They abandoned the bed, sleeping on the floor instead. Surprisingly, they slept better.

At dawn, the rain had stopped. Outside, a player yelled, "Who kicked over my rainwater jar?!"

Li Zhi recalled last night’s noise. She stepped out, righted the jar, and kicked it over again.

The sound matched perfectly.

She turned to the others. "Did anyone hear this last night?"

Two players raised their hands.

Li Zhi said, "Something—or someone—was in our courtyard."

Chi Yi shared the hair incident. The players paled. "But ghosts kill based on conditions! What did you trigger?!"

A singer suggested, "Maybe the ghost held a grudge after Li Zhi threatened her."

Zhao Luan frowned. "If there was a gap between the noise and the hair attack… what was she doing in between?"

Tian Mingjie deadpanned, "Maybe she was window-shopping our sleep faces."

Zhao Luan: "……"

Players: "NOT FUNNY."

Then two panicked players ran in. "Feng Zhenghao is missing!"

The group searched but found no trace—no body, no signs of struggle.

"He had an anti-ghost charm!" his roommate cried.

The unknown horror left them trembling.

Zhao Luan scoffed at their fear and strode off. Some followed—his leadership, despite his flaws, offered security.

The rest looked to Li Zhi.

She said, "Gather the rainwater. Then breakfast."

At the dining hall, Steward Chen rushed in, pale. "One of your people—he drowned in the pond!"

The players bolted outside.

There, floating among the lotus flowers, was Feng Zhenghao’s bloated, waterlogged corpse.