EM CH47

Chapter 47: Walking Straight Into the Trap

Yu An’s startling words snapped the kneeling husband and wife beneath the bronze platter out of their grief. Reaching both hands high, the wife desperately tried to snatch her child back from the shamaness’s arms, while the husband turned his tear-streaked face toward the source of the voice.

The villagers broke into a heated murmur, convinced this outsider was desecrating the sacrificial rite and ought to be beaten to death on the spot. Amidst the scuffle, Yu An’s hood was yanked off. Lifting his eyelids, he revealed his left eye—still embedded with the silver-tier Drawing Into Reality core, leaving it devoid of a pupil and glowing faintly pale across the sclera.

Yu An was already accustomed to wearing a sullen scowl; paired with a cold, ruthless expression and a pupil-less left eye, his demonic appearance sparked an immediate wave of panic across the isolated, superstitious town.

Urged on by the crowd, several burly young men lunged forward. Clamping a hand over Yu An’s mouth and binding his wrists behind his back, they tossed him down into a root cellar, rolling a heavy boulder over the entrance to seal it shut before gathering to debate how to dispose of the outsider.

Roughly three meters deep, the cellar floor met Yu An’s fall with unforgiving stone bricks. Stunned for several seconds, he only belatedly registered the aching pain radiating through his bones. Pitch darkness surrounded him, thick with the briny stench of cured meats, while precious vegetables sat stockpiled on wooden racks.

Curling his body tightly with immense effort, Yu An pulled his knees hard against his chest and worked to loop his bound arms from behind his back forward beneath his legs. His shoulder joints popped with a crisp click; clenching his jaw against the sharp pain, he bowed his head and began gnawing at the cords around his wrists.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t nearly as freezing down here as aboveground. The solid earth shielded against the blizzard and conducted heat poorly, retaining a modest degree of warmth. Even so, it was only relative—the bitter chill steadily chipped away at the Pure Black Hood’s defenses, leaving Yu An’s limbs icy and his blood feeling as though it were thickening in his veins.

At this rate, he would freeze to death long before those villagers finished debating an execution method.

If the interviewer showed up right this second, I wouldn’t chop his hands off, Yu An mused groggily.

Looking back, he hadn’t actually known the interviewer for very long. Perhaps because they had crossed paths in the dead of winter—and Yu An hated the cold most of all—Zhao Ran’s skin was always warm; pressing against him anytime, anywhere allowed an unyielding heat to seep straight through his clothes.

This ignorant, insular town was infuriating. Yu An began weighing which fate was worse: dying silently alongside slabs of frozen meat, or having his hands claimed by the interviewer and staying trapped beside him for eternity.

Then again, what’s so bad about becoming a pair of hands? That bunch of little hands has minds of their own and can move freely. I wouldn’t do any chores, I could pin all the blame on the interviewer whenever I go out and cause trouble, and whenever I’m in the mood, I could cling to him and cop a feel to my heart’s content—what could he possibly do to me?

Doesn’t sound bad at all. Sounds even better, actually.

Thinking this far, Yu An felt a twinge of regret for not grabbing Zhao Ran’s hand when falling off the cliff; he shouldn’t have ventured into danger all alone. Stubborn as ever, though, he refused to admit it.

The pixelated infant poked its head out of Yu An’s coat pocket, blinking vacantly as it surveyed the surroundings.

Finally biting through the leather cord binding his wrists, Yu An shoved the troublemaking little thing back into his pocket, grinding his teeth in irritation: “Still kicking, you little jinx.”

Yu An wanted nothing more than to toss this noisy bundle of pixels into the pile of frozen meat to vent his frustration. Yet with the cellar sealed tight by a boulder, his sole hope of getting out rested entirely on the pixelated kid.

Jogging and hopping in place while rubbing his limbs to keep his body temperature from plummeting too rapidly, he suddenly caught the faint sound of trickling water.

Pressing his ear flat against the stone floor, he heard water flowing quietly beneath the cracks of the cellar masonry—there had to be an underground stream near the town. Touching the stone bricks with his fingertips, they didn’t feel icy at all; in fact, a faint, barely perceptible warmth radiated upward.

“Vegetables…” Yu An closely examined the wilted, yellowing greens stored on the wooden racks. In an arctic wasteland deprived of sunlight for half the year, where did an isolated town get fresh vegetables?

Based on the clues uncovered in his diary earlier, a lake lay deep within Riyu Town—and combined with the interviewer’s description, that body of water was actually an ocean. Inside the game, the clear exit for the Lost Town stage sat beside a lake, offering players two routes: either defeat the Lake of the Dead Parasite, or use nimble micro-controls to navigate a treacherous, craggy footpath around it.

However, Yu An was physically linked into the scenario now, relying entirely on real bodily movement; “micro-controls” simply didn’t exist. Falling into an icy lake in-game merely cost a chunk of HP and a respawn, whereas here, brute-forcing through with HP wasn’t an option—plunging into freezing water meant dying of hypothermia long before clawing back onto shore.

It appeared the exit out of Riyu Town very likely lay near the dwelling of the “deity” worshipped by the townsfolk. No matter what, he had to find a way over there.

Just as Yu An was deep in thought, the boulder sealing the cellar shifted and rolled slowly aside.

Stepping vigilantly into the shadows to use the darkness as cover, Yu An tilted his head upward to observe.

A man poked his head furtively into the cellar shaft, lowering a mutton-tallow lantern into the depths to search for the imprisoned outsider.

Illuminated by the lantern’s glow, Yu An recognized his face: it was the father of the infant chosen by the shamaness. Climbing cautiously down the wooden ladder step by step to the cellar floor, the man swung the lantern around in search.

As the light swept across the wooden racks, a face emerged within the narrow pool of illumination.

Sitting cross-legged atop a vegetable shelf, Yu An rested his chin in his hand with a cold, sullen scowl, staring icily at the man as his pupil-less left eye emitted a pale glimmer in the gloom.

Startled back two paces, the man forced himself to stay composed. Lowering his voice, he pointed at the pixelated baby inside Yu An’s pocket and asked, “Are you truly willing to trade with us?”

His accent was thick; Yu An barely caught a few words resembling English, making communication difficult—though Yu An had no desire to say much anyway.

With deeply sunken eye sockets and pale irises brimming with tears, white breath misting with every exhale, the man bowed devoutly. Cradling the Armor-Piercing Awl dropped in the snow during the earlier scuffle in both hands, he offered it respectfully before Yu An, murmuring thickly: “We are all sinners undergoing punishment.”

“Give me the lantern and your coat too.” Taking the Armor-Piercing Awl from his hands, Yu An seized the mutton-tallow lantern along with it and tugged the bearskin coat straight off the man’s shoulders, draping it over himself. Only as the flame’s warmth baked his hands did his numb joints regain their flexibility.

Once warmth began returning to his body, Yu An finally weighed the man’s words seriously: “Why do you say that?”

“Our ancestors committed a cruel transgression, so generation after generation we are imprisoned within this cursed town. This is the punishment we deserve,” the man answered in a heavy tone.

“Why not just leave? There’s a train platform not far outside town.”

“A train…?” A yearning look flickered in the man’s eyes; he seemed to roughly grasp what the word meant. “So walking outside leads to one, that close by…”

“Everyone who leaves the town dies—they drop dead the very instant they step beyond the town borders. All we can do is use long poles with hooks to drag the corpses back and bury them far away. Those who run too far out of reach of the hooks are buried beneath the blizzards outside town.”

“What transgression did your ancestors commit?”

Hesitating as though holding something back, the man shook his head: “I don’t know. My grandfather never told me.”

“Did you come from Annular Town?” the man asked. “Word has it their population is thriving and resources are abundant.”

Annular Town was the very next stop after Riyu Town; the distance couldn’t be far, so it ought to be an impoverished little town as well—logically, the difference shouldn’t be great.

Either way, getting out of here came first.

At the town pier, a small wooden fishing boat lay moored against the shore. Several men with black cloth hoods pulled over their heads were busy loading the carefully selected offerings aboard. Cradling the chosen infant in her arms, the shamaness stood at the water’s edge chanting incantations to bless the vessel transporting the tributes.

A faint rustle of wind brushed past her ear. Turning her aged, wrinkled neck in alarm, the shamaness watched a pale eye snap open abruptly out of the pitch-black night behind her.

Darting out from the shadows in a flash, Yu An seized one of the shamaness’s arms with his left hand and pressed the Armor-Piercing Awl straight against her throat, taking her hostage and forcing her step by step toward the pier.

Having no idea who had released him, the shamaness trembled violently from head to toe in shock, her lips still stubbornly muttering her ritual chants.

“Let me aboard the boat. I’ll go listen to the divine oracle in your place,” Yu An threatened quietly beside her ear.

Daring not to refuse, the shamaness nodded to the boatman, allowing Yu An to step onto the skiff laden with offerings.

Ignorant, reckless outsider—going before the deity means certain death anyway. Standing on the pier, the shamaness watched the small boat drift away with a venomous glare.

The water’s surface was mirror-calm without a ripple, resembling a tranquil lake rather than the sea. Hooded in black cloth, the boatman uttered not a single word, focusing solely on rowing.

Hugging his knees on the deck, Yu An sat beside the pixelated infant and the chosen baby lying side by side, both sucking their thumbs in peaceful sleep.

Parting the still water, the skiff passed through a narrow estuary where waves grew noticeably stronger. Stopping his oars, the boatman gazed ahead into the distance before silently hopping onto a spare dinghy tied astern, unfastening the towline, and rowing noiselessly back toward the town.

The silent boatman’s silhouette dissolved gradually into the night. Picking up the chosen baby, Yu An reached out and placed it gently upon the coastal rock agreed upon with its father. Returning calmly amidst the pile of offerings, he pillowed his head on his arms and lay down beneath the thick, warm bearskin pelt, listening to the gentle lap of water carrying the boat adrift.

After an indeterminate stretch of time, the dense storm clouds blanketing the sky parted completely. Nebulae swirling at the far reaches of the universe seemed close enough to touch, glittering galaxies wheeling slowly overhead.

The night grew luminous. Winding ribbons of blue aurora diffused across the heavens, brilliant bands of light reflecting inside Yu An’s pupils.

Sitting up to look around, he saw the small boat gliding as though suspended in midair, weaving between towering icebergs and jagged reefs. The water beneath was crystal clear, bioluminescent plankton drifting leisurely below. Braving the chill to dip his hand into the water, those glowing tiny creatures slipped between his fingers, leaving behind fleeting trails of shattered light.

As if endowed with a will of its own, the current pushed the skiff forward, drifting slowly into a cavernous hollow carved inside an iceberg. Overhead, translucent layers of ice supported clear water where glowing plankton swam freely; throughout the entire ice cavern, jagged shards of ice refracted dazzling fluorescence.

It was surprisingly warm inside. Crawling out from beneath the bearskin, Yu An stretched out a hand to feel the warmth in the air before leaning over the gunwale to trail his fingers through the tepid current.

It would’ve been nice if the interviewer were here—this spot is actually pretty good for a date. Leaning over the side splashing water playfully, Yu An had completely tossed his unilateral breakup with Zhao Ran to the back of his mind.

Tap. A light knock echoed against the gunwale.

The small boat halted inexplicably. Though the seawater continued flowing steadily past, the skiff remained dead still in the center of the channel.

Puzzled, Yu An searched for what had snagged the boat. Turning his head, he abruptly spotted a hand resting over the wooden gunwale.

Five slender, snow-white fingers, water droplets still dripping from the fingertips.

“…?” Rubbing his eyes hard, Yu An looked back again—only to find nothing there at all.