Capital City of the Dragon Nation. A classified military base.
Inside a room spanning nearly a thousand square meters, three of the walls were covered top to bottom with screens—tens of thousands of them.
The fourth wall was a single massive display.
A U-shaped conference table stood at the center of the room.
Uniformed personnel sat around it, eyes fixed on their computers. Each computer mirrored one of the countless wall screens—every feed different.
At the top of each screen was a line of text. Some read Evil Jungle. Others read Dark Hotel. The titles varied.
But none of the screens showed real images.
Only clusters of green dots.
In the center of the U-shaped table stood a transparent rectangular life-support pod.
Inside, a young man floated in blue nutrient fluid. Black filament-like cables extended from his body, running out of the pod, across the floor, and up the walls—connecting directly into the thousands of screens.
Click.
The door opened.
A middle-aged man with two stars on his shoulder epaulets stepped inside.
"Sir!"
A young woman with the rank insignia of two bars and three stars rose to greet him.
She wore a formal military uniform. Even the structured fabric couldn't conceal her striking figure. Her waist was slender beneath the belt, her long legs straight and steady as she walked. Shoulder-length hair framed a composed, beautiful face.
Elegant without being provocative. Sharp without losing grace.
"Qingluan, how is Subject Zero?" the middle-aged officer asked, glancing at the young man inside the pod.
"Stable," Qingluan replied calmly. "The rejection symptoms have ceased. All vital signs are above baseline."
"He is a national treasure. A hero. Monitor every indicator closely."
"Yes, sir."
"When will visual rendering of the instance world be complete?"
"At most three months," she answered confidently.
"Good."
The officer looked once more at the young man in the pod, gratitude filling his eyes.
"Zero… Thank you. Thank you for what you've done for humanity."
Suddenly, Qingluan's expression changed. A flicker of alarm crossed her eyes.
"What is it?"
She took a slow breath and gave a strained smile.
"Sir… I've been selected by the Horror Instance World."
The entire room froze.
Concern and quiet sorrow spread across the faces of the personnel.
"Which instance?" the officer asked grimly.
"F-rank. Corpse Slaughter Village."
She exhaled. "At least it's a corpse-type instance."
"Pull up all data on Corpse Slaughter Village. Immediately."
"Yes, sir."
…
"Hehe… Lucky Traveler, one minute before entering the Horror Instance. Are you ready?"
The eerie giggle echoed again in Xiao Zifeng's mind.
He turned over in bed.
Something felt uncomfortable.
He reached up and touched his face.
What—
Frowning, he opened his eyes and felt the mask.
Oh. The mask.
Then—
Holy crap!
He shot upright.
Seeing Fatty off!
Damn it!
He'd almost forgotten!
Alcohol really does ruin everything.
He grabbed his phone. 5:25 a.m.
His face changed. He jumped out of bed and rushed toward the door.
The airport was less than five kilometers away. If he sped there on his electric scooter, he could still make it.
"Hehe… Lucky one, thirty seconds before instance entry. Ready?"
Xiao Zifeng froze at his bedroom door.
What?
What instance?
"Hehe… New Traveler, have you read the instance briefing? A thorough understanding increases survival rate."
His eyes widened.
He knew exactly what this was.
Damn it!
Wasn't there supposed to be an eight-hour advance notice?!
Why the hell was he getting thirty seconds?!
"I'm going to curse that damn Fatty to death! That crow-mouthed bastard!"
He dialed a number in a rush. At the same time, he focused his thoughts.
A translucent panel unfolded in his mind.
Traveler: Xiao Zifeng
Age: 17
Physical Condition: 26 (Average: 10)
Soul Strength: 15 (Average: 10)
Ghost Power: 0
Ghost Artifacts: None
Mystic Artifacts: None
Talismans: None
Skills: None
Talent: None
Contracted Ghost: None
Cleared Instances: 0
Newbie Gift Pack x1
Upcoming Instance: Corpse Slaughter Village (F-Rank) (Current Mortality Rate: 95%)
He'd trained in combat since childhood—26 physical made sense.
But only 15 soul strength? As the provincial top scorer?
That felt low.
Wait.
Ninety-five percent mortality rate?!
His breathing stalled.
You've got to be kidding me.
With a 95% death rate, what kind of sick game was this?!
"Hello? Madman, you here yet? I'm at the entrance. Where are you?"
Fatty's voice came through the phone.
Xiao Zifeng forced a laugh.
"Fatty… I overslept. Can't make it. When you pay respects to your old man, burn me some extra paper money, you damn crow-mouthed unfilial brat…"
He hung up before Fatty could respond.
"Hehe… Ten seconds before instance entry. Ten, nine…"
Damn it!
His heart pounded. He focused again.
Instance: Corpse Slaughter Village (F-Rank)
Description: In a picturesque mountain village live a group of lovely villagers. They farm by day… and at night… hehe…
Are you serious?!
He twitched and kept reading.
Dear Traveler, please note the following:
Close your doors and windows at night.
There are ghosts and humans inside the instance. Learn to tell the difference.
Survive three nights.
Good luck, Traveler.
"Hehe… Entering instance now…"
"Damn it! Open the newbie gift pack!"
A flash of light.
Xiao Zifeng vanished.
…
Su City Airport.
"What the hell?" Fatty stared at his phone, listening to the dead tone.
"You said you'd see your old man off and then you oversleep? You bastard. Fine—hope you get dragged into the Horror World early!"
He turned angrily and wheeled his luggage inside.
Even after boarding the plane, the disappointment lingered on his face.
Xiao Zifeng was his best friend in Su City. Three years of high school—they told each other everything.
He was leaving. The only person he informed was Xiao Zifeng.
And that unfilial brat had overslept.
Unbelievable.
Wait.
Fatty's expression changed.
Something wasn't right.
Xiao Zifeng lived nearby. With the stamina he'd built training under Grandpa Xiao, he could've run here before six.
Then why—
He replayed the call in his head.
Pay respects. Burn paper money.
His heart skipped.
"Dear passengers, this flight departing from Su City Airport to—"
Fatty's face turned pale. He lowered the hand that had been reaching for his seatbelt release.
Outside the window, the runway began to move.
A bad feeling settled in his chest.
Madman… nothing happened to you, right?
Don't screw this up. You still owe your old man years of filial piety.