“Cao Qun tampered with it.”
“How do you know? So annoying. The Gambling Tower Projection from the 89th floor has set player permissions. We can only see the perspectives that have been opened to us,” Lin Zhen crossed his arms, his face full of impatience. “Only my brother and the others have opened their perspectives to us, so we can’t see Cao Qun.”
Yu Feizhou shook his head helplessly.
“We can’t see him, but we can see the traces on the blackboard and the dust on the carriage floor. Do you remember what the small blackboard in the dining car was like?” he said. “There were many traces of white powder on the blackboard, and the eraser had been used. It’s obvious that something was written on the blackboard before.”
“That’s normal. The blackboard has been like that since the first day. This train is so old; the blackboard must have been used many times before.”
“Not normal,” Yan Wei said.
Lin Qing immediately organized his thoughts: “Because the numbers are at the top of the blackboard. The first two numbers were written casually, but the last two started to become twisted and crowded, leaving the bottom very empty. There are traces of the eraser being used.”
The last two numbers were crowded to make space for additional information.
There was other information below the numbers, originally written together with the bed numbers on the blackboard, but it was erased, leaving only the bed numbers.
The three of them exchanged glances, this conclusion unspoken but understood.
“But the emptiness below the blackboard isn’t enough to support this idea unless someone had a strong motive to erase information that could hinder other players. In this instance, there’s no overt competition among players; cooperation is even wiser than competition. Whoever gets the clues can help everyone else survive. Only one thing is more important than all of this.”
“That is, erasing the information might allow him to live longer.”
Yan Wei tilted the water bottle slightly, his fingertips catching the few drops that leaked out.
He raised his hand, and his fingertips slid over the white cloth covering the table. Soon, four numbers formed by water stains appeared on the cloth—1101.
“We’ve said before that the numbers on the blackboard most likely serve two purposes: a death list or a warning. Other possibilities are unlikely because they don’t make sense. The death list is more probable than a warning. This is the 89th-floor instance, not the 9th-floor one. The chance of NPCs helping players is practically zero.”
So, it’s easy to guess what the erased information on the blackboard was.
“A death list,” Yan Mingguang’s deep voice rang out. “The blackboard should not only show the bed numbers but also inform players that the bed numbers written on it are the targets the ghosts will kill tonight.”
Yan Wei shrugged. “Cao Qun must have felt something last night, so he went to the dining car first thing in the morning. He was the first to arrive and, unsurprisingly, saw his bed number written on the blackboard, probably along with a note saying the player in that bed would die tonight.”
As he spoke, the light in his eyes grew colder. “He wanted to test if changing the bed number on the blackboard could shift the ghost’s target. But if he had this idea, others might too. If he changed someone else’s bed number and it was changed back, it would be useless.”
So, there was likely a sentence on the blackboard, a note informing players that this was a death list, which Cao Qun erased. This way, other players would only see the numbers and spend a lot of time speculating their meaning, not daring to act rashly.
Yan Wei moved his finger and drew a curve at the top right of the last “1” in “1101,” turning it into a “9.”
Cao Qun dared to erase the hint but not the numbers, only daring to alter them.
The “1” could only be changed into numbers containing a vertical line: “4,” “7,” or “9.” Bed 1104 is in the same room as 1101, beds 1105 to 1108 belong to Ding Xiao and Xu Miaomiao’s sleeping area, and there’s a 50% chance no one sleeps in 1107. But beds 1109 to 1112 are occupied by Yan Wei, Yan Mingguang, and Lin Qing, with the highest probability that someone sleeps in 1109, which is also the farthest from Cao Qun.
So, Cao Qun’s choice to change it to 1109 was inevitable.
Lin Qing’s serious expression carried a hint of murderous intent. He said, “He’s quite smart. After changing it, he deliberately smoked there because you showed obvious signs of cleanliness before boarding. No matter what, if you came, even if Ding Xiao didn’t speak, one of the three of us would have told him to put out the cigarette.”
So, when they started observing everyone’s fingertips, they couldn’t find any traces of white dust because Cao Qun’s traces were covered by cigarette ash.
Cao Qun replaced his bed number with Yan Wei’s, erased the information informing players that this was a death list, and even used cigarette ash to cover the dust traces on his hands.
Yan Wei put down the water bottle, his fingertips chilled by the cold water. He interlaced his hands, rubbing them together, one palm covering the back of the other.
He was always afraid of the cold, and this entire train was always damp with a bone-chilling cold.
Yan Mingguang’s hand covered his, completely enveloping his icy coldness. Yan Wei shifted, instinctively leaning closer to Yan Mingguang.
Lin Qing sneered, “He’s looking for death.”
Yan Wei’s ears twitched—it was raining outside.
This instance was currently in the rainy season. Yesterday, there was a heavy rain that stopped briefly before starting again.
Lin Qing liked overcast days, both inside and outside the instance. Whenever he heard the sound of rain, he would always look out a few times. He instinctively turned his head but only saw the curtains and the dim, heavy daylight filtering through the sheer fabric.
He reached out, momentarily wanting to pull the curtains open. Not just to see the rain, but also to see where they were.
In the narrow sleeping compartment, Lin Qing’s hand easily reached the curtain pull cord. He paused but ultimately withdrew his hand.
Even in daylight, ghosts could appear.
The train was already clattering along, swaying and moving forward, though no one knew where it was headed.
—Did it have a destination?
Yan Wei swung his legs, bumping into Lin Qing’s legs after just a few movements. He wanted to stretch but raised his hand and hit the upper bunk.
The train carriages were like connected coffins, unable to see outside or escape from within. The smell of rust in the air lingered no matter what, and the cramped space seemed capable of crushing a person alive.
Yan Wei carefully avoided bumping into Yan Mingguang and Lin Qing, slowly getting up and saying, “It’s almost lunchtime. Before lunch, I want to go up front and take a look.”
Lin Qing asked, “Beyond the dining car?”
“Yes. We still don’t know the full layout of this train. While it’s daytime, it’s best to go up front and see.”
“Really? Just passing by the dining car like that?” Lin Zhen pouted.
Yu Feizhou was puzzled, “Yan Wei and the others are going up front, so of course they’ll pass by.”
“I mean, haven’t they already deduced that Cao Qun tampered with the blackboard? Why not change it back? What if the ghosts are killing based on the blackboard’s content? Wouldn’t Yan Wei be in danger tonight?”
Yu Feizhou felt his throat getting hoarse but still cleared it and said, “It’s useless. The ghost’s target tonight is definitely 1101.”
“That’s not certain. We’ve been through many instances where ghosts deliberately misled players into killing each other. This situation where players keep altering the blackboard and fighting among themselves might be something they enjoy.”
“Other instances might, but not this one. This is a death oppression instance. The core of this instance is the inescapable shadow of death following you, haunting you relentlessly.”
Yu Feizhou spoke, his brow furrowed, a look of concern on his face.
“It aims to give players the oppressive feeling of inescapable death. If players could alter the death list by changing the blackboard, there would indeed be infighting among players, but the method of death would change. The ghosts wouldn’t have the power of life and death but would become tools for players to kill each other. Their goal wouldn’t be achieved—they are the ones controlling life and death.”
Cao Qun’s efforts were in vain from the start.
The ghosts want players to feel the struggle of inescapable death. How could they allow players to change the death target?
Yan Wei and the others don’t need to change the bed number on the blackboard because Cao Qun’s plan won’t succeed. Even if “1109” is written on the blackboard, the ghost’s target is still “1101.”
Yu Feizhou wasn’t worried about that.
But…
He remembered earlier, when Yan Wei and the others walked out of the sleeping compartment, and Lin Qing, without looking back, pulled the sliding door shut.
From the gap between the lower bunk and the floor, a pale, ghostly hand emerged first. Then, a completely pale face peeked out.
The thing’s entirely black pupils faced the door, its purple lips curling into a stiff, eerie smile.
“Clang—”
The sliding door closed completely, and the three who had walked out couldn’t see this final scene.
The narrow train corridor couldn’t accommodate three people side by side. Yan Mingguang walked at the front, with Yan Wei and Lin Qing following behind, heading towards the front carriages.
After passing the carriage where the train staff lived, the front seemed to be all hard-seat carriages.
Rows upon rows of seats lined both sides of the corridor, all identical, with no seat numbers. After walking through two carriages, Yan Wei felt a bit disoriented, almost forgetting which hard-seat carriage they were in.
Lin Qing handed the three access cards to Yan Wei: “Should you hold them, or should I? Or should we each take one?”
“You keep them,” Yan Wei pushed them back. “These access cards could open any door initially, but after we chose our sleeping compartments, the cards were marked with our bed numbers and can’t open others’ compartments.”
“Do you think someone might try to steal them?”
“Not just possible, it’s certain that someone will try to steal them, including us. Since the death list is a form of death rule, the sleeping compartments aren’t safe either. If tonight’s target is really 1109, what would we do?”
Lin Qing tucked the three access cards into his inner pocket and said, “I’d help you steal someone else’s access card.”
Others would naturally do the same.
Death is unchangeable; the only way to struggle is to switch beds.
“If someone tries to steal mine, I might not be able to keep it since I can’t beat most people. Each of us holding a card actually increases the chance of them being stolen. It’s better to keep them all with you, so if someone tries to steal, they only have a one-third chance of getting the right one, and they might not even succeed against you.”
Lin Qing nodded.
Yan Wei paused—Yan Mingguang ahead had slowed down.
He tilted his head and saw Ding Xiao and Xu Miaomiao walking towards them from the front. Both looked serious, deep in thought.
They also saw Yan Wei and the others.
Yan Wei didn’t even need to ask to know what they were doing—similar to their own thoughts. Ding Xiao, seeing Yan Wei, showed a look of understanding.
The two groups met and stopped in the middle of the fourth carriage past the dining car.
“Yan Wei? You…” Xu Miaomiao hesitated, looking at Ding Xiao, unsure if she wanted to speak.
Ding Xiao, however, went straight to the point: “You’re going to check out the front, right? Don’t bother.”
When she spoke, even though Yan Mingguang was at the front, she still looked at Yan Wei behind him.
Yan Wei met Ding Xiao’s gaze, blinked, and said, “Why?”
“Because you can’t see it.”
Yan Wei suddenly had a bad feeling. This feeling had been faintly present, tied to the oppressive, cramped space and the despair born from being unable to escape.
Ding Xiao’s next words hit that faint, ominous premonition in Yan Wei’s heart.
“You can’t reach the end. No matter how far you go, you can’t see the front of the train.”
