The voice of this entity shifted from an ordinary youthful tone at the beginning to an increasingly eerie and sharp sound, echoing in this dim and somewhat distorted “playground,” tugging at the nerves of those present bit by bit.
After finishing its words, the entity let out a few emotionless laughs.
The crowd exchanged glances, but Yan Wei slightly lowered his head, his gaze softening, and in this moment, he surprisingly found himself a bit distracted.
This place was clearly another fragmented space, similar to the Ghost Hand Space. The existence of the Legendary Item fragments had caused some rifts with other parts of the instance, and coupled with the unstable residual energy from the higher-level instance, this kind of space existed, requiring players to solve it before they could leave.
But why did he repeatedly feel a sense of familiarity with such places?
It was as if he had encountered them before.
Including the last Moon Wheel fragment, he also felt a sense of familiarity—yet before entering the building, he was just one of the countless ordinary people outside; how could he have possibly come into contact with something so beyond reason from within the building’s world?
Yan Wei pondered, subconsciously shifting his gaze to Yan Mingguang. To his surprise, as soon as he raised his eyes, he met Yan Mingguang’s gaze.
This person had also been looking at him, seemingly having watched him for a while.
Just as Yan Wei realized this, Yan Mingguang abruptly turned his head, immediately avoiding his gaze.
At that moment, the building’s notification sound rang out, capturing all of Yan Wei’s attention.
[Congratulations, player, for activating the Death Schoolhouse instance, Dawn High School Archives side quest. Please follow the requirements, participate in the game; failure results in death, success grants access to the archive room and additional rewards.]
[Due to the reasons left behind in the instance, this side quest affects the inherent mode of the instance. A special reminder: this side quest is unrelated to the main storyline of the instance. Another reminder within the instance: be mindful of what’s behind you.]
As the notification ended, the dim playground before them suddenly plunged into complete darkness, and the rolling bloody heads seemed to have frozen in place.
The “Student” let out a chilling laugh and said, “Play a game with me… The rules are simple. Everyone sit down in a circle, and we’ll play… the handkerchief toss.”
The handkerchief toss is a multiplayer game well-suited for school settings. A group of people sits in a circle, and one person is chosen to toss the handkerchief. This person runs outside the circle and can choose to stop behind anyone, toss the handkerchief, and then rush back to their spot. The person behind whom the handkerchief was tossed must quickly realize they have been tagged, pick up the handkerchief, and start chasing the tosser.
If the tosser returns to their spot before being caught, the person who was tagged becomes the new tosser and continues the game.
Yan Wei recalled the rules, feeling as if some absolute force was manipulating him; he couldn’t move or speak.
When the light returned to its previous dimness, the eight players had passively formed a circle and sat down, a pure white handkerchief lying in the center. Yan Wei glanced around; the three players from Morning Star were mostly mixed in with their five, with Lin Zhen sitting next to him, and Yan Mingguang separated from him by a Morning Star player and Lin Zhen.
The “Student” had seemingly vanished, but his voice echoed from an unknown direction.
“I’ll play with everyone… Let’s find a way to choose the first tosser to start the game. If you catch me, you win. If no one catches me in a minute, I’ll randomly punish someone, and if you catch the wrong person, you die.”
In the dimness, Yan Mingguang raised his eyelids, his ink-black eyes revealing no emotion.
Yan Wei paused, his gaze sweeping over the others present.
The expressions of the others had changed to varying degrees.
This filthy entity clearly said, “I’ll play with everyone,” but despite the darkness obscuring their vision, the number of people was still clear. If they included that filthy entity in the game, there should be nine figures sitting in the circle.
But there were only eight people.
They had entered as eight players.
What did this mean?
Almost everyone thought of the most likely possibility at that moment—during the moment of complete darkness, one of them had been swapped out by a ghost! If that were the case, what had happened to the swapped person?
Moreover, this so-called catching the ghost not only required them to quickly find the hidden ghost among the eight but also to toss the handkerchief behind that ghost without being caught. Then, when the ghost became the next tosser and tossed the handkerchief, the person who was tagged by the ghost must also catch that ghost to win the game.
Each step was interconnected, and every minute could potentially lead to death.
And the only hint was to be mindful of what was behind them—this seemed like a redundant statement; the most important thing in the handkerchief toss was to be aware of what was behind.
Yan Wei’s gaze softened as he attempted to extend his perception outward, but as expected, it had no effect. Since this game relied on suspicion, the rules of the instance naturally wouldn’t allow skills and items that could connect through perception to be effective.
In the dim light, they could only see each other’s outlines, unable to discern anyone’s expressions. Yet the atmosphere thickened in that moment, eerie and strange, even the surrounding air felt a bit colder.
A chilly wind swept through, brushing against Yan Wei’s cheeks and neck, as if someone was blowing air beside him, but when he turned to look, there was nothing there.
The handkerchief lying on the ground was slightly lifted by the wind, and suddenly, a stronger gust swirled around, causing the handkerchief to flutter and slowly drift toward Yan Wei.
—It was selecting the first tosser.
Yan Wei didn’t move; he watched as the handkerchief floated closer to him, his hands instinctively tightening, yet his thoughts remained relatively calm.
The rules stated that if the ghost wasn’t caught, a player would be randomly punished every minute, and catching the wrong person would also lead to death. However, the rules didn’t specify what would happen if a player was caught. And the first tosser was shrouded in too much uncertainty, with too little information, making it extremely dangerous.
Fortunately, he was in an immortal state today.
But Yan Mingguang and Lin Zhen were not in an immortal state; they accounted for five of the players in this game, and the pressure to break the deadlock rested squarely on Yan Wei’s shoulders.
The handkerchief slowly drifted closer, nearing the space between Yan Wei and Lin Zhen, but leaning slightly more toward Yan Wei.
He took a deep breath, raised his hand to catch the drifting handkerchief, but another hand reached out even faster, deftly grabbing the handkerchief.
Beside him, Lin Zhen’s expression was unclear. This person quickly stood up with the handkerchief, chuckling, “The first tosser, sounds quite thrilling, let me have a go.”
As Lin Zhen spoke, he directly took the handkerchief and began to jog around the outside.
Yan Wei blinked, momentarily speechless.
The remaining seven fell silent for a few seconds, and Yu Feizhou broke the silence: “There are only eight of us.”
Everyone understood what this meant.
The chilly wind blew in waves, and Lin Zhen’s rhythmic footsteps echoed as he circled outside, causing the seated players to straighten their backs.
They—including Yan Wei—didn’t even know if this Lin Zhen was real. Yu Feizhou’s words were clear, and it was a fact that everyone could grasp.
Including the ghost, there were nine participants in the game, yet only eight people were present.
Anyone could be a fake.
A player from Morning Star immediately said, “I know I haven’t been impersonated. But how can I know about the others? You all are together, so you should know each other better, right? Let’s have our Morning Star members compare notes on things only we know, and you all do the same?”
Yan Wei instinctively glanced in Yan Mingguang’s direction—he couldn’t see the other’s expression, and his perception couldn’t be used at that moment, but he still felt that Yan Mingguang was fine.
He then worriedly looked at Lin Zhen, who was stalling for time, and said, “Just because you say you’re not, can we believe you? If the ghost really swapped out one of us, then we can’t trust anyone’s words right now. And if we could find out just by comparing experiences, the game would have ended easily in less than a minute. If you don’t believe me, you can try; I’m sure if someone was swapped, everyone present would have all the memories of another person.”
The person was taken aback but didn’t refute Yan Wei’s words.
As seconds ticked by, Yan Wei quickly continued, “Look at now; all of our reactions are normal, but including me, any of us could be fake. But we still need to try; while questioning can’t immediately eliminate suspicion, the more we do, the more mistakes we make, and talking will surely reveal some flaws.”
A little more time passed.
The blade of death hung over everyone’s heads, yet they couldn’t determine whether their companions beside them were real or fake.
Another player from Morning Star immediately said, “Alright, let’s go first.”
He quickly posed a question, and the other two Morning Star players answered without hesitation.
Yan Wei then compared information with Yu Feizhou, Zhou Tian, and Lin Zhen, who was casually walking with the handkerchief, finding the same situation as Morning Star.
Yan Mingguang asked Yan Wei, “First meeting.”
Yan Wei was taken aback.
He hadn’t expected Yan Mingguang to ask such a simple question, one that seemed easy for the ghost to obtain information and answer.
He replied, “Hotel lobby.”
In the dark playground, Yan Mingguang slightly nodded.
This meant they matched. Everyone matched.
As Yan Wei had said, this kind of questioning couldn’t reveal anything. The atmosphere fell to a low point once again as they scrutinized each other, vigilant and on guard.
A minute was almost up, and Lin Zhen suddenly tossed the handkerchief behind a Morning Star player and quickly ran back to his spot.
The expression of that Morning Star player changed instantly, and he turned around to pick up the handkerchief, chasing after Lin Zhen.
The seated players couldn’t see any issues, and since Lin Zhen was the first to actively toss the handkerchief and had remained unharmed until now, wasn’t it very likely that he was the ghost who had mixed in?
But at this moment, many of their abilities were completely suppressed, and they could only use the most primitive method of chasing one another. In just a moment, Lin Zhen sat back down before being caught. The person chasing Lin Zhen, under the pressure of life and death, directly tossed the handkerchief behind Yan Wei!
At the moment the handkerchief landed behind Yan Wei, he finally understood why this Morning Star player had suddenly chased Lin Zhen so earnestly, thinking Lin Zhen was most likely the ghost among them.
In that instant, a chill swept over him from behind, as if a cold gaze had latched onto him. It was a bone-chilling feeling, and he immediately broke out in a cold sweat, turning to pick up the handkerchief.
In that moment of turning, the edges of the playground blurred into darkness, and suddenly, a pale, soulless ghost face appeared before him!
The ghost face flashed by, and Yan Wei picked up the handkerchief and ran, instinctively wanting to chase after the Morning Star player who had tossed it.
Just a few steps into the chase, he slowed down—this ghost was not only using this game to make them suspect each other but was also toying with them. The reason that Morning Star player had wanted to chase Lin Zhen so quickly was probably because he, like Yan Wei, had been startled by the ghost’s trick.
As he slowed down, that Morning Star player quickly returned to his original spot.
A piercing, ethereal voice suddenly rang out from all directions, carrying an unmistakable hint of laughter: “A minute has passed.”
In the next moment, Yu Feizhou, who was sitting on the ground, felt his pupils constrict, suddenly rolling over as a bone-like object “whooshed” through the spot where his chest had been.
But he dodged this “punishment,” yet the sharp fragment didn’t stop; instead, it shot through the chest of a Morning Star player who had just sat down across from Yu Feizhou!
That person had just sat down, and in the moment the fragment pierced through, his eyes widened, blood splattering from the wound onto Yan Wei’s cheek and onto the pristine uniforms of the others.
That person’s eyes were wide open, his expression frozen in disbelief as he collapsed to the ground.
The game continued.
