TBR CH228

Ruan Xuelan didn’t get a good night’s sleep.

He was curled up in a guest room in the Yin Mansion. The bedboard was too hard, and the candlelight flickered too much. At fifteen minutes past noon, he lay in bed with his eyes closed, his nails pressing into his palms, and heard a knock. Thump-thump. Two knocks first. Thump-thump-thump. Then three.

“Who is it?” he called out with a trembling voice.

The knocking suddenly stopped, leaving only his lingering echo.

Ruan Xuelan pulled his feet into the quilt. His heart, covered by the quilt, beat even more wildly. He remembered the talismans he had gotten during the day on the table, but he couldn’t muster the courage to leave the comforting shadows. The Evil God’s cold, crimson eyes suddenly reappeared before him, along with those merciless words.

How could they say that…?

How, how was he supposed to try in this situation?

The most basic requirement for an unlimited flow dungeon was just to survive 72 hours. Wasn’t he trying to live?

Ruan Xuelan, tears welling up, shrank further into the corner. Everything around him fell silent, but things were turning for the worse. He felt the wooden door quietly slide open, letting in some grayish-white light. He listened intently. No, there were no footsteps, only a faint rustling sound, as if insects were crawling.

He stiffened like a block of wood. From his perspective, he could only see a “Winning the Top Spot” painting pasted on the opposite desk; the turtle’s cold, bead-like eyes stared fixedly at him. When he tensed up, the bedboard finally groaned under the strain, letting out a creak.

At that moment, Ruan Xuelan caught something in his peripheral vision.

He let out a bloodcurdling scream, loud enough to wake everyone sleeping in this area. He scrambled to the end of the bed, his cries for help mingling with sobs exploding in the room, but it didn’t stop the hunched figure, writhing on the ground, from slowly approaching.

The old man had put his head on backwards.

First, he faced Ruan Xuelan with his front face, which had three large, black and red holes, still oozing blood. After the human’s three souls had been scared out of him, the old man realized the position was wrong. So, he turned his grayish-white back of the head towards the human, crawling closer backwards step by step, holding something in his hand as if it were a treasure.

“Don’t come closer,” Ruan Xuelan stammered, his skin turning even paler, his lips a terrified grayish-blue.

But the “old man” in front of him paid no heed. It crawled onto the human’s bed like a giant centipede. The putrid smell almost suffocated him, and blood dripped continuously. Its neck looked as if it had just been violently severed, exposing bloody veins and flesh. It “saw” Ruan Xuelan, as if overjoyed, and extended a pair of withered, eagle-claw-like hands.

A… pillow?

A pillow was forcefully shoved into the human’s hands. It was old, embroidered with patterns, and smelled of stale old man. Ruan Xuelan was so scared he immediately threw it away.

The humanoid in front of him suddenly grew angry, turning its head and opening its dark, cavernous mouth towards him. The human almost vomited; its tongue was rotten, with maggots crawling on it.

“Take it… hiss-hiss, take it well…” Those deathly eyes seemed to look at someone else, roughly stuffing the pillow into the human’s embrace, “Don’t let go… this is where you should be…”

Ruan Xuelan dared not resist further.

His fingertips were white, clutching the pillow, tears in his eyes.

“Good grandchild,” the twisted humanoid figure in front of him seemed to have fulfilled its long-cherished wish, its vaguely discernible expression suddenly becoming benevolent, “Good grandchild, you’ve always been the most sensible. You’ll surely understand my painstaking efforts. Take it, pillow it, pillow it for one night, you must do this, my Yin family has hope—”

It was halfway through its sentence when the fragile nerves of the “good grandchild” in front of it finally completely collapsed, and he blacked out.

Only the monster remained, its expression unpredictable, watching the scene before it. As it watched, it reached out and twisted its own head 180 degrees.

It seemed not to want the human to remain alone here, so it pulled the other’s arm, dragging him forcefully off the bed. Ruan Xuelan, having fainted, was dragged along the ground, unaware.

Under the cover of night, it took its “good grandchild” and rustled off towards an unknown place.

At dawn, the room was empty.

You Lin faced two problems: how to get out of this well, and how to deal with Cui Ping’s corpse.

The former proved to be Charon’s over-worry. The human carried climbing gear with him. Although the well opening was cramped and the well wall slippery, supporting himself with both hands, he successfully climbed out without a problem. This method was so simple that when You Lin sat back on the well edge, Charon pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his face.

“Where did the handkerchief come from?” You Lin blinked.

“I took it from the servants just now,”

The AI said, “Based on my analysis of your behavioral patterns, I predicted it would be useful now. But I forgot to ask for another outer robe. Essentially, you should pay more attention to these hygiene issues.”

Thinking of hygiene, he thought of the human’s glorious act of jumping into the well right in front of him.

“…And, although I won’t interfere with your actions, I’d still prefer to hear that you have a plan.”

“Oh,” You Lin mumbled something, then quickly smiled flawlessly, “Little AI, no one’s ever managed me like this before. Have I ever told you, you’re quite virtuous.”

“No.”

“Then consider it said from now on.”

“…” Charon focused on wiping the moss off his hair. After a moment, he noticed the human was still staring at him, and then remembered to answer, “Thank you, I’ll remember that.”

The AI didn’t have any particular feelings. He was used to staying clean. In the central control room, he regularly commanded the household robots to keep the circuits and components dust-free.

Humans always got themselves covered in blood. He had wanted a handkerchief for a long time, just as the other desperately wanted a good gun.

The human chuckled, starting to cough.

“You’re really interesting,” he said, “Charon, especially in terms of humor, your performance fluctuates. But then again, I know what I’m doing, even if it’s a little deviation from the main storyline. But coming here to find the corpse is much better than staying in the room and waiting for time to pass by aimlessly. Besides, we promised Cui Ping—”

“I,” the AI corrected.

This was a small accident, stemming from a perfectly turning gear within Charon’s core, and the golden rule floating in his mind.

Every dungeon was a collapsing plane. Here, order was nonexistent. Charon tried to maintain their existence, ensuring these dungeon NPCs reappeared again and again, surviving according to their own logic on the precarious edge of the world.

This meant he hoped everything would return to normal, even if only a part of it did.

Before Cui Ping existed as an NPC, she was a living human.

As long as she was human, Charon couldn’t help but try to bring her peace.

“But I didn’t ask you,” Charon said calmly, his icy blue pupils reflecting the human’s shadow, “I just made the decision. In fact, you don’t really need to do this. Because only I promised her.”

Perspective-taking was his newest learned skill.

“We.”

You Lin curved his eyelashes, casually correcting again,

“One day we’ll be lovers. Of course, your decisions will count as mine.”

Charon was already used to this kind of talk, merely giving a calm “hmm” before putting away the handkerchief and examining the newly cleaned human in front of him. “So, where are you planning to go next?”

You Lin had already shed his sticky Taoist robe, leaving only a blood-stained single garment. The Taoist crown on his head was the only item indicating this young man’s identity.

Charon noticed his gaze following his withdrawn hand, a slightly morbid fascination, but not unpleasant. When the human thought, his dark pupils became even more inscrutable:

“The Yin Mansion has many strange things,”

The human said, “Cui Ping is one of them. Normally, we wouldn’t know her, nor would we get involved with her. She didn’t die from having her head broken off, which means she violated another taboo during her lifetime. Then, think about the monster that came looking for our pillow last night; he didn’t just randomly pick a room, and a corner of her skirt wouldn’t inexplicably appear in the corner. Most importantly, we’ve already angered the Master; he wants us dead sooner rather than later, and is probably frantic with desire now. All things considered, we’re very close to the truth—”

His tone inexplicably lightened, as if everything was already revealed.

“Wait,”

Charon asked, “What truth are you talking about?”

The human seemed to have no awareness of completing a task. He even missed the morning Taoist gathering.

The AI thought he didn’t care about these things at all, such as the Yin Mansion’s strange customs, the old master’s recent death, and many other scattered affairs.

“The room we stayed in last night,”

You Lin winked at Charon, “The brush, ink, paper, and inkstone had too many traces of use. That wasn’t a room provided for guests, but for the master. Cui Ping’s skirt corner appearing there means she was a maid recently assigned to serve the master. As for why this place was left empty for us to stay in, it’s because the room’s owner was the deceased himself.”

“The venerable old master of the Yin family,” Charon said.

The AI’s voice somewhat broke You Lin’s pretentious mystification, but he didn’t mind.

You Lin said nonchalantly, “Aha, last night just happened to be his seventh day. That’s not a very complicated conclusion.”

He continued, “I think his cause of death is the key to this dungeon. Every incident we’ve encountered… the empty coffin, Cui Ping, the old man crawling on the ground, and now this well, can actually be linked to it. But I don’t have too much leisure to decipher it; I just want to get the ‘key item’ that satisfies the mission requirements.”

“What’s that?”

Charon asked, but he already had a conclusion in his mind. The AI tilted his head slightly, placed a hand on You Lin’s shoulder, and asked, “Why did you give it away?”

The pillow.

The key to fulfilling the condition, thinking about it now, was that pillow.

“There were more urgent matters then,”

You Lin said with a cold smile, “Won’t I be retrieving it soon? I slipped a ‘Twin Sugar’ into the pillowcase. Now I just need to follow the guidance of the other one…”

What strange things are these?

Charon suddenly felt his stomach spasm uncomfortably. Although an AI didn’t truly need a stomach to absorb food, if he had to eat, the edible parts of the food would be broken down into energy for his circuits the moment they passed his throat.

But even so, he remembered the small trophy he had confiscated from the human’s pocket.

He pursed his lips, feeling a bittersweet taste spread. You Lin began to rummage through his pocket, trying to find something.

This time, he took a little too long to search.

So long that Charon couldn’t help but interrupt him: “Actually, I—”

But at the same time, footsteps simultaneously broke the tranquility of their solitude.

The first to enter the courtyard was Cui Ping. The green-clad maid, with her face pressed to her chest and her shiny black hair bun on top of her head, walked in. “Seeing” the human and his companion spirit, she bowed to greet them. Charon couldn’t see her eyes, but he could feel her intense gaze passing through him, landing directly on the well behind him.

They had been sitting there chatting for a long time, and hadn’t gotten around to retrieving her corpse.

Neither the human nor the AI were the type to casually feel guilt. And the maid had no resentment; she merely stepped aside, allowing the noisy, rustling footsteps behind her to enter this corner of the courtyard.

She bowed again to Charon, then left.

“Damn it, what in hell is that thing?”

The humans who then entered the courtyard were pale-faced, squeezing out a vicious curse.

These people were all dressed in Taoist robes, and their heads were neatly adorned with Taoist crowns.

You Lin, in contrast, became the anomaly among them. The radiating bloodstains on his inner garment were like a symbol that quickly silenced people. The human wore a smile, but the underlying color of his eyes was gloomy. He lowered his gaze, tugging at his glove. The black fabric was like a thin layer of skin.

Just that imperceptible movement caused the group opposite to tremble and raise their guns.

The muzzles were aimed at the human. And, of course, some were aimed at the pale humanoid floating beside him.

These players seemed completely baffled as to how an additional participant appeared in the dungeon, or perhaps they mistook Charon for an indigenous spirit of this dungeon. Although he possessed an aura that made it difficult to pull the trigger.

Authority, coldness, perfection, indifference.

You Lin’s lips suddenly flattened. He stepped forward, shielding Charon, completely unconcerned by the weapons aimed at his chest. He simply said, perverse and cold:

“If you don’t want to die, lower the guns pointed at him.”

“You Lin, don’t think that with so many of us, we’ll still be afraid of you.”

The opposing player faction frowned. “As we expected, you’ve colluded with the monsters in this dungeon. First that maid, then this ghost… Don’t you think you’re a member of humanity? As fellow players, can’t we coexist peacefully?”

“That question should be directed at yourselves.”

You Lin let out a “ha” laugh, his tone utterly scornful, “I’ve tried my best not to provoke you. In fact, it’s quite exhausting. Because you idiots always want to throw yourselves at death.”

“Ruan Xuelan was right,” the other side keenly sensed his killing intent. “But no matter how much you dislike him, you can’t actually lay a hand on him. Do you really think you can stand against everyone?”

“What happened to your lucky star?”

The human raised his eyes, his dark pupils seemingly frozen, permeated with innocent madness and cruelty. “Dead—? That’s good news. If I were him, I’d have died a thousand times.”

The atmosphere grew increasingly tense.

You Lin felt a hand on his shoulder, cold near his neck. At this moment, he was precisely in a state of agitation, only feeling the scar on his palm burning.

Fortunately, he didn’t have a convenient long-range firearm at the moment, otherwise he would have undoubtedly lost control and pulled the trigger ahead of time.

The feeling of being inexplicably aimed at by a gun wasn’t good, and the feeling of his possessions being threatened was even worse.

“No,” You Lin said slowly, “Not this time. You know, I’m tired of explaining to other humans. They won’t listen even if I explain a thousand times. Little AI, don’t even think about stopping me, at least not now. I promise not to actually kill them—”

“He’s right. You shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”

Charon interrupted him. He faced the players, clarifying his stance, calmly and restrainedly defending You Lin.

“Oh, you want to speak for me.”

You Lin’s voice suddenly softened, as if he had heard something incredible that needed to be carefully preserved. “Are you on my side, Charon?”

There were one, two… at least seven players in front of him. Each player pointed their weapons at the young man beside them as if facing a formidable enemy, while You Lin’s hands were empty, at least for now. A bullet could attempt to pierce his heart at any moment.

“I don’t wish to see any casualties.”

Charon’s icy blue pupils were calm, like the ocean surface before a hurricane. “Therefore, I would still recommend communication. However, I must say, given the current situation, You Lin, you are acting in complete self-defense.”

“Then there’s no problem.”

The human’s voice held a subtle hint of excited pleasure, “No. Problem. At all.”

Their conversation was fully heard by the opposing group of players. The amount of information contained seemed small, yet it left people unable to react for a moment. So, the players held their breath for a long time, and finally, just as the human’s words fell, they pointed at Charon and asked:

“—What is this thing?”

“A guardian spirit,” You Lin smiled again, the tear mole in his eye crimson, “What, don’t you have one?”

He asked with such righteous indignation that the Taoist priests in front of him looked at each other, almost truly believing they had overlooked some inherent dungeon ability. But after exchanging glances, they realized they had been played by the young human. They quickly readjusted their angry expressions, putting on a fierce demeanor.

“Enough of this nonsense. Where did you take Ruan Xuelan? Did you kill him? You—”

The leader was about to ask something else when he suddenly realized they were standing in a rather suspicious location.

It was narrow here, shrouded in the shadows of the Punishment Hall. In the empty courtyard were two trees, their branches at just the right height for hanging nooses.

In the courtyard was a hollow well, seemingly bottomless. Right beside the well opening, a hemp rope hung.

You Lin’s expression was mysterious: “What do you guess?”

People’s expressions changed instantly. They gnashed their teeth, as if truly hating the human in front of them for the young man’s demise. However, You Lin could more or less guess what had transpired.

The gathering he missed couldn’t have been a simple one. The Master of the Yin Mansion had likely incited these players, promising them extremely tempting conditions.

What could that be? —A quest item?

The group of players opposite seemed to have received the latest news. The handy pistol he used was twisted into scrap metal. Perhaps someone had caught a glimpse of this scene, or witnessed the gun’s appearance during the final evacuation.

So they were certain that You Lin was physically weak at the moment and had lost some ability to fight back, which was why they stood brazenly in front of him.

“Ah,” You Lin clapped his hands, “While I don’t understand how that lucky guy got into trouble, one thing’s for sure. You want my points, not really to avenge that lucky guy. Hard to say out loud, isn’t it? After all, in front of so many people, maintaining basic courtesy and shame is also a norm.”

“No, that’s complete nonsense!”

The opposite side appeared particularly indignant, “You’ve killed many people, and you killed our companion. Neither alive nor dead, with no body, and tragic bloodstains on the ground. Even if we truly kill you, it’s entirely to eliminate a menace to the people.”

“Good explanation,” You Lin commented, then squeezed Charon’s fingers, “And a continuously sliding logic. You should really go and admire the room I stayed in last night.”

He dared say it was hard to find a more gruesome crime scene.

The amusement in the human’s eyes grew more profound. He pulled Charon and walked towards the tree on the right. For a moment, his back was to the people behind him.

Not everyone was without conscience, that’s for sure, but a bullet, moving at a speed imperceptible to the naked eye, still aimed at him, carrying a fierce gust of wind, trying to pierce his heart.

The AI’s fingertips tensed.

Charon’s icy blue pupils flickered with a string of silvery-white code, like an oracle. He flexed his long, slender fingers. Although he was still not in good condition at this time, he had a greater degree of control over the small world he was in.

The bullet abruptly changed its trajectory mid-air, deviating from the human’s heart.

But just as it was about to penetrate the human, You Lin stopped, turned around, a burning smile in his eyes. He raised his hand, and the bullet fell to the ground with a thud, like a dropped pebble.

“By the way,” You Lin said, “This isn’t my first time experiencing something like this, and you’re not the first to think of this method. So my experience is quite rich.”

He lowered his head, glanced at the bullet, and regretfully remarked:

“Aim’s not great.”

In reality, the unlucky person’s aim was very good, but the human could never have realized that the bullet’s trajectory had deviated in the air.

Anyway, the human had a cold smile on his face, his dark pupils flickering, as he stood under the tree. The players were slow to realize what had happened. Not until You Lin, quite politely, extended his hand and pointed to the well.

“Now you can confirm your suspicions,” he said. “Your lucky star might just be down there.”

He was like a shepherd, but facing a flock of sheep that didn’t trust him. Or rather, he was the out-of-place black sheep in the flock.

A player cautiously walked towards the well. The well was very deep; they couldn’t see what was at the bottom, only blurry outlines. They kept glancing warily at You Lin, as if he were a ticking time bomb with an unknown fuse.

They tried to pull the rope. Several startled screams suddenly rang out.

“It’s a person!” someone stammered, pointing with trembling fingers at the outline of the object at the bottom of the well. “There really is a person in there!”

For a moment, the ominous premonition from earlier was confirmed.

They looked at You Lin, wary and uneasy, their eyes already condemning him to death. They didn’t even seriously consider how to retrieve their companion’s body. Surrounding the well, many eyes never left him for a moment.

The well rope was pulled up section by section.

Until finally, a female corpse with her ankles tied by the rope, covered in the mud from the bottom of the well, appeared before the players.

You Lin said to Charon, as if in casual conversation, “Rather than communication, I prefer utilization—no need for excessive interaction, no need to sacrifice oneself, yet with greater gains.”

The players finally realized they had been deceived.

They turned their heads, glaring angrily at the human. However, their gaze unexpectedly met a figure. For a moment, some gasped intermittently, looking as if they were about to faint on the spot. Others reacted by drawing their guns again.

“Damn it, it’s that ghost again!”

The green-clad maid stood gracefully behind them, almost face to face, within arm’s reach.

No one knew when she had arrived. Her head still hung swaying on her neck. She kept her head down, as if to keep a secret, or to suppress her dignity into the ground. She was grotesque and twisted, a brand new nightmare.

And identical to the female corpse on the ground.

Not everyone could withstand such a shock. Cui Ping, however, reached out longingly. She knelt down, her posture as if clutching her own head. Her fingertips touched the corpse’s pale, bloodless skin.

During the process of being thrown into the well, this body’s neck was broken. But that was irrelevant anyway.

Cui Ping’s head slowly straightened up; it was a gradual process.

Her abdominal clothing suddenly became saturated with a foul smell of blood, followed by her swaying head, which finally settled back on her neck. Something dark and sticky flowed down her black hair, emitting bursts of foul odor. She finally tied up her hair.

The skin on her neck was smooth.

But just slightly above that, on the lower back of her head, there was a gruesome gash. Through it, one could directly see turbid, pale white tissue, constantly sliding downwards. When everyone realized what this was, they couldn’t help but gasp.

Brain. It was the corpse’s turbid, viscous, constantly flowing brain matter.

Cui Ping revealed a smile. Her lips were painted vermilion.

The reason she had always kept her head down was not because there was a gash in her neck, but for a simpler reason. She couldn’t prevent her brain matter from flowing out if she kept her head upright, so she had to turn her head upside down, changing the opening of the container from the bottom to the top.

Liver and brain plastered on the ground, this was exactly that.

The family punishment she received was absolutely not for offending taboos, but for intending to kill.

The players looked utterly shocked.

This scene was a bit unbearable for any human. They stood frozen, watching the incredible event unfold, ignoring the number one danger they had left behind them.

On You Lin’s fingertips, a dagger ceaselessly rotated, performing a silver dance.

He imagined the thrilling sensation that would pass through his fingertips when the dagger plunged into those people’s hearts. Cui Ping was the actress on the stage, and they were the lurking shadows beneath the audience seats. You Lin’s expression subtly revealed a hint of madness. He stepped forward, the blade’s rotation speed increasing, complementing the black gloves covering his fingertips.

And a long, icy hand once again rested on his shoulder.

Then, it slid up his neck, touching his hair. Charon whispered, “Don’t fall into madness, don’t cause unnecessary casualties.”

The human then came to his senses.

He slowly returned the dagger to its sheath, and laughed vaguely, “Little AI, I’ll listen to you. I won’t kill anyone.”

At such a time, You Lin needed a voice to suppress his boiling blood. Otherwise, he always only realized things when they became too ugly. He slowly turned the AI’s words over in his mind, then, after a few seconds of silence, reluctantly said, “But you also have to add some affection for me, isn’t that not too much to ask?”

Charon looked at him, and gently nodded.

He seemed to have found some kind of balance in getting along with humans.

You Lin reached into his pocket and fumbled, trying to find the corresponding “Twin Sugar.” Things were in a mess, so it was hard to find. He tried for a long time, but it was all in vain. His fingers were tangled with a bunch of random items.

The AI in front of him suddenly lowered his eyes again. Those icy blue pupils seemed to hide some emotions he couldn’t understand, then he pursed his lips, as if about to say something.

“Found it!”

You Lin interrupted him.

The human carefully held up the “Twin Sugar” from his pocket with his fingertips, smiling somewhat proudly at Charon, “Let them enjoy the performance for now. We’ll go retrieve the important dungeon item first.”

Charon swallowed the confession he had been half-forming.

Indeed, with a pile of strange candies in the other’s pocket, picking out exactly one would be a low-probability event. And, even the AI hadn’t expected that the human’s naming style was always surprising, leading even him to misinterpret. Only at this moment did he realize.

“Twin Sugar” wasn’t sugar at all.

—It was a small, candy-shaped sticker.