Chapter 49: Xitu Lanya – Clearance Settlement
Those cries were not only Zhen Niang’s anguish—they were the furious screams of every woman forced to die for chastity over the past hundred years.
On the stage, that mass of crimson shadow swelled larger and larger, its wailing growing more piercing by the second. But the ghost-attracting talisman was still working, keeping that surging resentment locked in place. Li Zhi sheathed her blade and gave the village chief a hard shove—he staggered, falling onto the platform.
The villagers below were already scared witless by the scene unfolding on stage. None of them even noticed that the supposed sacrifice, Zhenzhen, and the other players had already quietly slipped away.
In the dead of night, a group of players dragged Zhenzhen with them, racing along the village path toward the Martyrs’ Shrine.
They had hidden supplies along the road earlier in the day. Now, as they sprinted, they retrieved them one by one. By the time they reached the steps beneath the shrine’s ornate archway, each person had some form of fire-starting tool in hand.
Chi Yi checked the stopwatch in her hand—the time-freezing device had become nothing more than a regular stopwatch after a single use, only capable of marking time now. “One minute left!”
Everyone was gasping for breath, faces flushed with exertion, but their expressions were full of excitement.
Zhenzhen, still weakened from having been briefly possessed by Zhen Niang, looked pale—but her eyes glimmered brighter than ever.
The pink-haired player scouted ahead and came jogging back. “Those two are still guarding the shrine entrance!” Surprisingly dependable for once, he gathered his two brothers. “Let’s go distract them!”
The three of them quickly conferred before dashing toward the shrine.
The others hid along the steps. Before long, shouts rang out from ahead—“Who’s there?! What are you doing?!”
Chi Yi stared at the ticking stopwatch, voice trembling with urgency, “Ten minutes—NOW!”
At that very moment, the red shadow pinned at the village stage finally broke free from the talisman’s weakening grasp. The wind howled, and countless thin red threads shot from the mass, turning into ropes that snaked around the villagers’ necks.
Screams erupted, mingling with the rushing wind.
The village chief tried to stumble away, but a blood-red rope coiled around his throat, hoisting him skyward. His limbs flailed helplessly, wrinkles contorting his face, bulging eyes staring into nothingness. He spun slowly in the air, just like the countless women who had once been hanged here—until the life drained from his body in despair.
Back on stage, the members of the acting troupe gathered protectively behind Fang Lin’s floating corpse. Suddenly, Tao Yu pointed and cried out, “Look! Over there!”
They all looked. To the east, atop the hill, roaring flames lit up the night sky.
At the entrance to the Martyrs’ Shrine, Zhenzhen hurled a burning torch into the shrine. The flames illuminated her determined expression. “I’m going to destroy this place. I hope there will never again be any so-called ‘chaste martyrs’ here.”
The ancestral plaques atop the altar cracked and splintered with sharp, satisfying snaps, like voices cheering from the flames.
As the shrine burned, the red shadows raging in front of the stage gradually dissolved into faint wisps of red mist, drifting into nothingness. The villagers hanging in mid-air dropped one after another like dumplings into boiling water. The few survivors looked around at the bodies strewn everywhere, each wearing a different expression of horror, numbness, or despair.
Zhenzhen’s grandmother sat heavily on the ground, hot tears spilling from her clouded eyes.
Li Zhi glanced at the flames in the distance, then turned to Tao Yu. “Take Fang Lin’s body and leave this place. Find somewhere beautiful and peaceful to bury her.”
Something in Li Zhi’s tone made Tao Yu pause. “You’re not coming with us?”
Li Zhi smiled faintly but didn’t answer. “Thank you for your help. I hope one day you’ll stand on the grandest stage in Beijing.”
Tao Yu flushed slightly, embarrassed. “I’m nowhere near that good yet…”
Meanwhile, the viewers watching the stream were fully immersed in the farewell:
【The NPCs in this dungeon feel more real than actual people. Are they really just data?】
【This dungeon… made me cry so much.】
【I don’t want to say goodbye to Tao Yu or brave little Zhenzhen. This dungeon is about to close, isn’t it?】
【AAAAHHHH I watched the whole thing waiting for Li Jianxi to show up—are my Zhi-Xi ships going to be abandoned just like that?】
【Same! I’ve been hoping Zhi-Xi would reunite! Where is he?!】
—
Inside the dungeon, before the system’s completion announcement, Zhenzhen finally followed the players back to the outdoor stage.
The old grandmother burst into tears when she saw her granddaughter return alive. The two embraced, sobbing uncontrollably. Li Zhi jumped down from the stage and walked up to Zhenzhen. “Zhenzhen, we have to go.”
Zhenzhen quickly wiped her tears, clutching Li Zhi’s hand tightly. “Where are you going? Will I ever see you again?”
Li Zhi gently ruffled her hair. “Go live your life. Go see the world. Read more books.”
Tears streamed down Zhenzhen’s face again. “I will, Li Zhi! From now on, I’ll call myself Zhenzhen. I’m a treasure—not some martyr’s offering.”
Her wish was fulfilled. And with that, the players’ task was complete.
Both the viewers and the players inside the dungeon heard the system’s mechanical voice:
—Congratulations to the players for helping Zhenzhen fulfill her wish. “Martyrs’ Village” instance complete. Now entering popularity settlement phase. Thank you for watching. Please look forward to the next episode. Goodbye.
The surroundings began to blur and dissolve. Li Zhi glanced toward the distant night sky—and for just a brief moment, she thought she saw a familiar figure running toward them. But the moment passed, and her consciousness faded into black.
Dungeon cleared. Instance closing. This world began to collapse.
The figure who had been rushing forward stood frozen on the empty ground before the stage, frustration written plainly across his youthful face.
—
When consciousness returned, the eight surviving players found themselves back in the Safe House.
Surprisingly, the survival rate this time was high, and everyone was in good spirits. The pink-haired player especially hadn’t expected he and his two brothers to survive—it turned out following the right leader was everything.
Even before the rankings appeared, the three of them crowded around Li Zhi, pledging allegiance like loyal subordinates, awkwardly asking if, should they get a team-up card again, they could follow her next time too. As long as she agreed, they would be her lackeys from now on, obeying her every word!
Chi Yi stood nearby, sulking faintly.
She knew it—let go of the prize for one second, and someone would immediately try to take her place.
But she’d already made her declaration: from the next dungeon onward, she’d go solo.
Poor Chi Yi, self-pity creeping in.
Someone up ahead suddenly called out, “The rankings are up!”
The white wall lit up with the projected screen, and the system’s crisp voice rang out:
—Voting phase complete. Popularity tally as follows:
—1st Place: Li Zhi. Total popularity: 2,901,439.
—2nd Place: Chi Yi. Total popularity: 1,018,762.
—3rd Place: Wen Qianxue. Total popularity: 876,210.
—4th Place: Teng Maomao. Total popularity: 448,216.
—5th Place: Yu Kaile. Total popularity: 331,864.
—6th Place: Liu Junjie. Total popularity: 313,546.
—7th Place: Yi Fu. Total popularity: 287,651.
—8th Place: Jiang Zhe. Total popularity: 213,681.
After spending so many days together, this was the first time Li Zhi knew all her teammates’ names. The pink-haired player practically bounced in excitement when he saw the rankings. “Holy shit! I’m fourth! I’m amazing!”
His white-haired and blond-haired brothers were also thrilled. They’d usually ranked dead last, yet here they were, solid middle spots. All three knew they owed it all to Li Zhi. They turned to her, bowing repeatedly in gratitude.
Li Zhi: “…Your name is Teng Maomao?”
Pink Hair coughed awkwardly. “Yeah… it is.”
Suddenly, it all made sense—no wonder when she asked his name in the dungeon, he’d been too embarrassed to say and told her to call him “Little Pink.”
Chi Yi and Wen Qianxue weren’t surprised by their own placements. Wen Qianxue had thought she’d feel irritated again, like the last time she’d been beaten in the popularity polls by Chi Yi, but now… she only felt calm, even nodding politely to Chi Yi.
Chi Yi’s own votes weren’t dramatically higher than before—up by a few hundred thousand mostly because more viewers had tuned in this time.
She was jealous of Pink Hair and his brothers getting to team up with Li Zhi again, but only a little. It didn’t shake her determination to go solo next round.
The ranking display faded. The system began the MVP rating announcement:
“Based on overall player performance in the instance, the S-rank MVP for this dungeon is Li Zhi. Bonus: 1.5x score multiplier. Updated instance popularity: 4,352,158. Current total popularity: 5,507,420. Global Popularity Ranking: 90th. Please continue your efforts.”
Chi Yi cheered, “Zhi-zhi! You finally broke into the global leaderboard!”
Five and a half million votes—just enough for 90th place. The competition was getting fierce.
Before being transferred to the reward space, Li Zhi quickly reminded Chi Yi, “Make sure to pick defensive survival gear. You’ve got enough baseline popularity. Focus on staying alive next round.”
Chi Yi nodded furiously.
Pink Hair piped up, “Boss, what about me?”
Boss now, was it.
Li Zhi thought for a moment. “Your popularity’s still low. Besides the team-up card, pick offensive tools. Perform well next time.”
That was clearly her agreement to let him join her team again, and Pink Hair nearly threw his neck out from how hard he nodded.
Soon, all eight players were whisked into their individual reward spaces.
Last time, Li Zhi had tested the system’s limits. She now suspected that, while the system claimed to grant rewards based on the player’s deepest desires, it actually operated within hidden constraints.
It was like one of those contests where “the organizers retain final interpretation rights.” If the request didn’t fit the system’s parameters, it would simply deny it.
One-click dungeon clearance? Instant ghost extermination? Automated plot decryption? Forget it. Those broke the show’s entertainment value. The system wanted drama, not shortcuts.
So this time, Li Zhi didn’t bother testing the boundaries.
—Popularity calculation complete. Distributing rewards based on the player’s deepest wish.
A new item appeared on the screen, glowing golden: Danger Alert Alarm.
Li Zhi raised an eyebrow and tapped to accept it.
What she had wished for was a tool to help increase her teammates’ survival rate in the next dungeon. An early-warning system made sense—avoiding traps and sudden deaths would directly raise their odds.
Li Zhi accepted it without hesitation. It was time to prepare for the next battle.