Chapter 54: Yucai High School

Li Zhi leaned in, mimicking the boy’s posture, looking curious. “What game?”

Seeing her interest, the boy got even more excited. “It’s Summoning the Lamp Spirit!”

“Summoning the Lamp Spirit?” Li Zhi raised an eyebrow. “Never heard of that. I’ve only heard of summoning the Pen Fairy.”

The boy spun his pen between his fingers. “Oh, we already played that one. This time, we’re going for something more exciting. Wanna join?”

Li Zhi shook her head. “No thanks. I’m a coward.”

The viewers: “…………”

Bullet comments:

【Say that again to the wax monster you mocked in the shrine.】
【Say that again to the infant tower you crawled into by yourself.】
【Say that again to Fang Lin, who you tied up like a dumpling.】

…

Then again, playing occult games inside a horror instance—yeah, that was definitely tempting fate. But judging by the way this boy talked, these students probably often played creepy games like this in private. Strange… why hadn’t anything bad happened yet?

Tan Manyu leaned over with curiosity. “When you guys played the Pen Fairy, did it really show up?”

“Of course! The Pen Fairy even answered our questions!” The boy grinned gossipily. “We found out who the class monitor has a crush on. The Pen Fairy even circled the name, and the monitor didn’t deny it.”

Tan Manyu deliberately asked, “Did you send the Pen Fairy off properly afterward? I’ve heard that if you don’t, something bad could happen.”

The boy glanced at her oddly. “We sent it off. Why wouldn’t we? We play these games all the time. Nothing’s ever happened.” He slung his bag over his shoulder, losing interest. “Forget it if you don’t want to play. We’ve already got enough people anyway.”

The students drifted out of the classroom. The players regrouped and decided to return to their dorms first. Together, they walked out of the academic building toward the glowing lights of the dormitory.

There were two dorm buildings, separated by gender, so naturally the male and female players had to split up. Pink Hair looked heartbroken watching his boss walk toward the girls’ dorm and reluctantly followed behind Lian Qinglin instead.

There were seven female players this time. Aside from Tan Manyu—the “toothy singing streamer”—the other five were all experienced players who’d cleared previous dungeons. Among them was Bei Xuan, an actress and, aside from Li Zhi, the most popular player. Once Zhou Jianzhang led the male players away, Bei Xuan stepped forward, taking charge: “Let’s pick a team leader for the girls too. We should work together, follow orders, and stay coordinated in case of danger.”

Tan Manyu glanced at Li Zhi and noticed she didn’t respond—too focused on scanning the dorm building’s surroundings. Clearly, she wasn’t interested in leading, so Tan Manyu kept quiet.

With no one else stepping up, Bei Xuan naturally assumed leadership. “Let’s go check in with the dorm supervisor first. See how the rooms are assigned.”

They found their way to the dormitory supervisor using the student IDs they’d found in the desks. The supervisor gave them a lazy glance. “Second floor’s empty—students moved to the new campus already. Pick any room you want. Keys are on the doors. Not like you’ll be staying long.”

The dorm was as eerily silent as the school building had been earlier. Students who returned after classes were disturbingly quiet, like disciplined soldiers. Once they entered their rooms, it was as though they disappeared.

Bei Xuan led the way up the old stairwell, yellow bulbs buzzing overhead, surrounded by moths battering themselves against the glass, casting writhing gray shadows across the cracked stairs.

The air was thick with humidity and mildew, making it hard to breathe. The building was clearly ancient. As they reached the second floor, a long hallway stretched before them.

Many of the overhead bulbs were broken—some entirely dark, others flickering weakly with a faint buzzing hum. The pale yellow glow reflected off chipped red-and-blue tiles and pale, aging doors, casting an eerie, claustrophobic gloom.

Bei Xuan, previously full of bravado, instinctively took a step back.

The entire floor was dead silent—not even the faintest sounds of footsteps above or below. It felt like the moment those students entered their rooms, they had simply… vanished.

The front of the group froze at the stairwell entrance. No one dared move forward.

Standing halfway up the stairs, Li Zhi asked calmly, “Why aren’t we moving?”

Someone at the front swallowed hard. “Th-this floor looks way too creepy…”

“Then let’s divide into groups first,” Li Zhi suggested. “We’re staying here overnight anyway. Better to pick rooms and get some rest early.”

Honestly, sometimes the safest option was just sleeping through the night.

The dorm rooms were designed for four people each, but to avoid a complete wipe, no room should have more than three. That way, even if something happened, losses could be minimized. Seven players split naturally into groups of two, two, and three.

A thin girl quickly spoke up. “Can I room with you, Li Zhi?”

Finally—without Chi Yi around, no one was monopolizing the boss!

Unexpectedly, Li Zhi shook her head. “Sorry—I already promised my desk-mate I’d share a room with her.”

Tan Manyu shot her a grateful look. The other girl walked away, visibly disappointed.

Once teams were set, Li Zhi paced up and down the corridor, inspecting each door. On the surface, the rooms all looked identical. She tried every key, opening each one for a glance inside, but nothing seemed unusual.

Most importantly—the warning alarm she carried didn’t go off.

The others watched, holding their breath, terrified that one of those doors would open to reveal something monstrous.

After carefully checking every room, Li Zhi turned to the others. “Pick three rooms next to each other. That way, we can watch each other’s backs.”

Bei Xuan, finally regaining composure, clearly disliked how Li Zhi had overshadowed her leadership. She raised her voice: “If something did happen, being that close together might get us all wiped out before we could react. I think we should leave some space between rooms—to give ourselves time.”

The others exchanged glances. Tan Manyu spoke up innocently, “But didn’t you say downstairs that we should all stick together? If we’re split up, how is that ‘one rope’ teamwork?”

Bei Xuan: “…………”

This newbie—was she deliberately undermining her?

Bei Xuan snorted softly and said with meaning, “You don’t have any defensive items. Rooming with a top player can be dangerous. They like to take risks for show. You’re safer away from that.”

“Thanks, but I’m not afraid.” Tan Manyu smiled shyly. “Li Zhi promised to protect me.”

Bei Xuan: “…………”

Li Zhi casually opened the door nearest the stairwell. “I’m staying here. Pick yours.”

Without another word, she walked inside, Tan Manyu hurrying after her. Once their door shut, the others hesitated. The girl who had wanted to room with Li Zhi quickly claimed the next room. “Let’s stay here, Peipei. I’d rather be close to her.”

Her teammate followed. “Good idea.”

Bei Xuan, suppressing her frustration, deliberately chose a room four doors down. “We’ll stay here.”

Inside, the dorm had four beds. Li Zhi flipped the wall switch; the ceiling light flickered twice before coming on dimly. Dust blanketed every surface. In one cabinet, they found a few moldy quilts. Tan Manyu walked around checking the space, then asked, “Which beds?”

“Both bottom bunks. Easier to run if something happens.”

Tan Manyu nodded, fetched water from the balcony, and started cleaning. Li Zhi began making the beds. Just as she finished, a low whisper came from the balcony:

“Li Zhi, come look at this!”

Li Zhi quickly stepped over.

From their small balcony, they had a clear view of the school’s athletic field—the same place they’d arrived earlier that day. Now, in the depth of night, beyond the reach of the streetlamps, a strange scene unfolded.

A group of students stood in the center of the field, each holding a white candle, forming a circle.

From this distance, their faces were indistinct, but they were unmistakably students—all wearing the school’s blue-and-white uniforms.

Li Zhi counted—about a dozen of them. Holding their candles, they began walking in a clockwise circle. After three laps, they reversed direction, moving counterclockwise. On the breeze, faint chanting drifted over—an eerie, incomprehensible ritual.

Tan Manyu murmured, “Are they… doing some kind of cult ritual?”

Being a government-trained player, her first instinct was to think cult.

Li Zhi suddenly spoke. “Are they summoning the Lamp Spirit?”

That horror game?

Tan Manyu squinted for a better look. The students had now stopped circling and were sitting cross-legged on the ground, holding their candles upright before them, faces flickering with strange excitement.

Suddenly—one candle went out.

They couldn’t see how it happened—just that one light suddenly vanished from the ring. The student holding it stood up slowly.

At that moment—the warning alarm in Li Zhi’s pocket screamed.

It was sharp, shrill, far worse than any household alarm. But Tan Manyu didn’t seem to hear it—still staring intently at the scene.

Li Zhi grabbed her wrist and dragged her back inside, slamming the balcony door and flipping off the lights.

“The alarm went off,” she explained calmly before Tan Manyu could ask. “It gives a thirty-second warning. That game’s wrong. If we keep watching, we might be noticed. Sleep now. Tomorrow, we’ll find that boy and ask him what’s going on.”

Tan Manyu nodded. Neither of them looked back at the balcony. They lay down and tried to sleep.

Li Zhi silently counted to thirty. Nothing changed—everything remained quiet. Looks like the warning had been related to that game. If they’d kept watching… who knows what might have happened.

It was Tan Manyu’s first dungeon. Despite government training, she was still just a regular person. She fidgeted, unable to sleep. By the faint light of the streetlamp filtering through the window, she saw Li Zhi lying awake, fiddling with something.

“Li Zhi,” she whispered. “What are you holding?”

Li Zhi rested her head on her arm, fingers curling around a small jade sunflower pendant, her voice carrying a rare softness. “A gift… from a friend.”

She hadn’t used it in the last instance. Was that why Li Jianxi hadn’t found her? Would he sense her signal this time?

Li Zhi curled her fingers around the warm jade and rolled onto her side. “Go to sleep. We’ve got morning study hall tomorrow.”

Tan Manyu sighed faintly.

Before dawn broke, the blaring school wake-up bell shook them both from sleep.

The eerily silent dorm now felt alive with sound—hurried footsteps echoed from every direction.

Li Zhi washed her face on the balcony. “Let’s go. Good students shouldn’t be late.”

Right next door was the cafeteria. They scanned their student cards for breakfast, ate quickly, and rushed to Class 2’s room.

Inside, they spotted the boy from last night—the one who’d invited them to the horror game—sitting at his desk, calmly reciting English vocabulary.

He looked… perfectly normal.

Too normal.

Like someone who had never encountered anything strange at all.