​​Chapter 3: "The Village Burial"​​

Tires rolled over scattered funeral joss paper on the ground as the villagers who had guided them gradually gathered behind the car, watching expressionlessly as the vehicle drove away.

Uncle Jiu glanced at the group’s pale faces in the rearview mirror, a hint of schadenfreude in his eyes, when suddenly someone sighed, "The locals are so warm-hearted, seeing us off from so far away."

Uncle Jiu: "?"

The terrified group, minds blank: "…?"

Li Zhi waved at the villagers behind them, her expression sincere. "Thank you, but you can stop here. We’ll definitely invite the whole village to the funeral feast later."

The eerie smiles on the NPCs’ faces seemed to freeze for a moment.

Lian Qinglin couldn’t help but let out a goose-like honk of laughter.

Uncle Jiu shot them a venomous glare but said nothing, slamming the accelerator and speeding up. After a few sharp turns, the hearse finally screeched to a halt in front of a courtyard wall.

White funeral banners already hung at the gate, where two gaunt, hollow-eyed men in mourning robes stood, their malicious gazes fixed on the passengers.

Uncle Jiu turned off the engine and turned around. "Guanping Village’s custom dictates that children must personally handle every step of their parents’ funerals—no outsiders allowed. The village chief’s body is still lying on the bed, untouched."

He smiled. "He’s been waiting for you for a long time."

The car door slammed open, and a chilling wind carrying the scent of incense and burnt joss paper rushed in. The group shivered, and Chi Yi nearly collapsed when she stood up, her legs weak. Li Zhi steadied her. "Careful."

Chi Yi’s eyes reddened again, her voice trembling. "I’m so scared of corpses."

Xu Shu chimed in from behind, "Corpses aren’t scary. What’s scary are the ones that move."

Chi Yi: "…Thanks. Now I’m even more terrified."

One by one, they stepped out of the car. The two men in mourning robes boarded the hearse and carried down the paper effigies. Uncle Jiu greeted them. "Has the Yin-Yang Master arrived?"

The men nodded. "Yes, he’s in the main hall."

The players followed the NPCs inside. Lian Qinglin whispered, "What’s a Yin-Yang Master? Someone who’s really good at sarcasm?"

Xu Shu shot him a look as if he were an idiot.

Li Zhi, not wanting their parallel-world friends to think everyone here was a fool, explained, "In some places, feng shui masters and fortune-tellers are called Yin-Yang Masters. Funerals require them to oversee the rituals."

As they spoke, they entered the courtyard, where a simple mourning hall had been set up. A memorial table stood surrounded by wreaths, flanked by the eight paper effigies from the hearse—four on each side—making the black-and-white portrait on the table even more sinister.

The old man in the photo wore a traditional Zhongshan suit, his graying hair meticulously combed. His sagging skin pulled his mouth into a frown, his heavy eye bags and prominent whites giving him a harsh, unkind expression. Now, his gloomy gaze seemed to fixate on his "ungrateful children," resentful of their belated arrival.

The group averted their eyes, hurriedly entering the main hall where the body lay under Uncle Jiu’s urging.

The moment they stepped inside, the temperature dropped several degrees. A damp, musty chill clung to the air, the floor slick with moisture. The hall was large and square, its corners swallowed by darkness as the single flickering overhead light failed to illuminate the entire space.

In the center stood a peeling red-lacquered bed, their "deceased father"—the village chief of Guanping—lying atop it. A white cloth covered his body, revealing only his head. The dim yellow light cast over his peaceful, ashen face highlighted the dark patches of livor mortis.

Someone in the group gagged.

Xu Shu helpfully added, "Last time, a player vomited in front of a corpse and was judged as desecrating the dead. Triggered a death condition—choked to death on their own vomit."

A terrified gulp echoed in the room.

Damn it! That’s even worse!

The group desperately clamped hands over their mouths.

Uncle Jiu stood by the bed, relishing their fear, the flickering light carving eerie shadows across his face. "You’re home now. First, kowtow to your father."

Gao Shijun, the most timid of the group, resisted. "What happens if we don’t?"

Xu Shu gave him a cold look. "You die."

With that, he strode forward and knelt. The others followed suit, trembling, doing their best not to look at the corpse’s serene face as they lined up and kowtowed in unison. Li Zhi pressed her forehead to her palm, recalling the scene years ago when she and her siblings had kowtowed before their father’s coffin in the funeral parlor.

If this system could resurrect ghosts… would she see her dad again someday?

Lost in thought, she straightened—only to lock eyes with a pair of dull, lifeless ones.

The dead village chief had opened his eyes at some point. Li Zhi could’ve sworn his pupils slowly rolled in their sockets before fixing on them at an unnatural angle.

The horrifying sight sent the players into screams. Gao Shijun scrambled to escape, but his limbs had turned to jelly, leaving him collapsed on the floor, powerless.

"Quiet!" Uncle Jiu snapped, displeased. "What’s wrong with a father looking at his children? Such a fuss over nothing."

He spoke of a corpse opening its eyes as casually as discussing the weather.

Reaching out, he gently closed the village chief’s eyelids. "Now that he’s seen you, he can rest in peace."

Then, his gaze swept over the players, his voice dropping to a sinister whisper. "The rest is up to you. The village chief worked tirelessly to raise you. You must handle his funeral with care—do it to his satisfaction. Understood?"

With that, he left, leaving the eight players alone with the corpse.

The old man on the bed returned to his peaceful state, as if his earlier awakening had truly been just to see them. Someone sobbed, "What counts as ‘satisfactory’? What happens if he’s not happy?"

No one answered—or perhaps everyone already knew.

Gao Shijun’s face was a mess of snot and tears. "It’s impossible—we can’t please a dead man! We’re all going to die here!"

Xu Shu, irritated, snapped, "A grown man scared witless while the women keep their cool. If you’re so afraid, get out! Stop dragging everyone down!"

Gao Shijun glared at him hatefully—then suddenly lunged. "This is all your doing, isn’t it?! This ‘system,’ this ‘show’—it’s all some alien trick to kill us! I’ll kill you! If you die, this ends! Aaaah—DIE!"

Tall and burly, he had seemed harmless and timid before. No one expected this outburst. Xu Shu barely dodged, but Gao Shijun fought like a cornered beast, his frenzied attacks overwhelming. Xu Shu was pinned, snarling, "Are you insane?! Let go!"

Gao Shijun ignored him, hands closing around his throat. The others froze, stunned. Zhang Xiao hesitated to intervene, afraid of getting hurt—when a swift figure stepped forward.

A sharp chop to the neck, and Gao Shijun collapsed, unconscious.

Xu Shu gasped free, coughing violently.

Li Zhi rubbed her wrist. "Tough guy."

Xu Shu’s expression darkened. A veteran like him, nearly taken out by a newbie? If not for Li Zhi…

Newbies with shattered nerves often caused team wipes in their panic. No wonder his teammates had warned him—being a guide for newcomers wasn’t easy. If not for the urgent need for points…

He knew his own instability was showing. Gratefully, he rasped, "Thanks."

Li Zhi waved it off. "Let’s move him aside. He’ll probably sleep till evening." She glanced around. "Wasn’t there a Yin-Yang Master here? Where is he?"

The group snapped back to reality—right, there was supposed to be one! They scrambled to look.

Xu Shu realized the team’s leadership had quietly shifted from him to Li Zhi.

Finally acknowledged, the forgotten Yin-Yang Master emerged from the shadows as the overhead light swayed, stretching the darkness.

Dressed in a traditional blue robe, holding a compass, he looked like a scholarly teacher from an old film—handsome and refined, utterly out of place in this eerie village.

His tall, graceful figure stood there like an idol drama protagonist who’d wandered onto the wrong set. His flat, emotionless voice intoned, "Children have entered. Prepare the deceased for burial."

The players stared.

After a beat, Lian Qinglin turned, stunned. "As an NPC, is it fair for him to be hotter than me?"

He voiced the直播间audience’s thoughts:

[OMG OMG OMG! Since when are NPCs this good-looking?! If they’re all like this, I’m wide awake!]

[Are these NPC faces system-generated? This Yin-Yang Master must be a major character!]

[Damn, Lian Qinglin’s god-tier looks just got outshone by an NPC.]

[Me, simping in a horror show.]

[As a Lian Qinglin fan, I’m betraying him for a virtual NPC.]

...

The Yin-Yang Master retreated into the shadows after speaking. While viewers ogled, the players had no time to admire his beauty.

Chi Yi asked nervously, "What does ‘prepare for burial’ mean?"

In front of where the Yin-Yang Master had stood was a square wooden table holding a brass basin with a white towel and a rack of clothes behind it.

Li Zhi examined the items. "Traditional funerals have three stages: encoffining, mourning, and burial. ‘Preparation’ is the first step—cleansing the body and dressing it in burial clothes."

The group collectively shuddered. The thought of personally wiping down the corpse made them want to faint on the spot.

Xu Shu raised a brow. "You know a lot about this?"

Li Zhi: "Two years ago, I played a concubine in a horror movie who conspired with the butler to kill the master. Did some research."

Everyone: "?"

Your character sounds kinda hardcore!

Li Zhi picked up the basin. "Let’s fetch water first."

The task sounded harmless, so they rushed to the kitchen—a rustic, dirt-floored room with a rusted stove and a half-height water vat. The pipe above dripped slowly, the water below dark and bottomless like a well.

They hurried back, but when faced with the corpse, enthusiasm vanished.

The memory of the village chief’s open eyes lingered.

Xu Shu stepped up. "I’ll do it."

He lifted the white cloth. The two-day-old corpse was stiff, its clothes reeking of aged decay.

In under two minutes, the withered, leathery body was exposed—gnarled fingers, shriveled skin like bark, a monster wrapped in human flesh.

Someone bolted outside to vomit.

Once undressed, Li Zhi placed the basin by the bed, wet the towel, and without hesitation began wiping the corpse’s face.

Chi Yi, teeth chattering, asked, "Li Zhi, aren’t you scared?"

Li Zhi replied, "When my dad died, I cleaned his body too."

She’d been young then, just starting middle school. It was the last thing she could do for her neat-freak father.

Chi Yi stammered, "I’m sorry—"

Li Zhi shrugged. "But he was cremated at a funeral parlor. If it’d been a traditional burial, I’d be more experienced now."

With their lead, the cleansing finished quickly. The village chief remained still—no reanimation.

Zhang Xiao seized the moment. "I’ll handle the next part!"

He hadn’t forgotten this was a livestream. Li Zhi’s proactiveness threatened his popularity, while Gao Shijun was clearly doomed.

They moved the clothing rack to the bed. Dozens of garments hung there.

Zhang Xiao selected two embroidered burial robes, joking to ease tension, "Dad, don’t these look nice? Leave in style."

The corpse stayed serene.

Once dressed, Zhang Xiao exhaled in relief.

The "preparation" was complete.

The handsome Yin-Yang Master reappeared, his voice colder. "Place the burial coin, light the corpse lamp, burn the descent paper, and move the door plank to the hall’s front. Tonight—" His beautiful but hollow eyes scanned them. "The vigil begins."

Xu Shu checked the fading daylight outside, grave. "We must finish before dark. Nighttime outdoors is high-risk for encounters."

Panicked, they split up.

Lian Qinglin pried open the corpse’s mouth to insert three copper coins—the "burial coin." They dismantled the hall’s door plank, knelt to burn paper, then moved the corpse onto it, head inward, feet outward, hands folded on chest. A lamp at his head illuminated his face.

After hours with the corpse, numbness set in.

Thankfully, nothing went wrong. Uncle Jiu reappeared with food. "Eat, then rest. Tomorrow’s busier."

Exhausted and starving, they ate. Xu Shu advised, "After this, pair up and sleep. No matter what you hear at night—stay inside."

Gao Shijun woke groggily during the meal, calmer but silent.

Zhang Xiao handed him a bun. "Relax, man. It’s not as hard as you think."

After eating, Chi Yi sidled up to Li Zhi. "Zhi Zhi, can I sleep with you?"

Zhi Zhi?

Li Zhi smiled. "Sure."

Once paired, they retired. The room had one bed. Li Zhi washed up and lay down. Chi Yi clung like a pretty shadow.

Under the covers, she whispered, "Can I hold your arm?"

Li Zhi closed her eyes. "Go ahead. Sleep."

Chi Yi’s eyes watered. If we get out, I’ll repay her.

Night fell. Some slept; others lay awake. Outside, only the rustle of wind through the mourning hall broke the silence.

Li Zhi reviewed the day’s events until Chi Yi’s steady breathing lulled her to sleep.

Sometime later—a faint meow.

Dawn’s first light brought a bloodcurdling scream from the hall.

Gao Shijun.

Li Zhi bolted upright. Chi Yi jolted awake, eyes wide. "What’s happening?!"

The others rushed out, panic-stricken. "What now?!"

They hurried to the hall.

Pale morning light spilled over the doorway.

On the door plank—where the corpse should’ve been—lay Zhang Xiao.

Dressed in the burial robes he’d chosen, barefoot, hands folded on his chest, lips slightly curved, face waxen.

Peaceful.