After He Qiong left, the atmosphere grew heavy.
Wen Chao let out a sigh. Fang Zhi frowned silently. Shi Ji and Yue Mei seemed like they wanted to speak but ultimately held back. No one had the heart to continue the discussion. One by one, they dispersed.
Qi Zhiyong's actions today had made everyone wary of him. Though they still addressed him as the team leader on the surface, inwardly, doubt had taken root in them all.
If he could treat Wu Xian like that, who's to say he wouldn't do the same to them after Wu Xian's death?
Qi Zhiyong sat alone downstairs. After a moment, he too sighed.
"Seems like 'Jing Ke' was right after all. I'm really not cut out to lead others. I'm better off as a lone wolf."
"So be it."
Qi Zhiyong had never cared about leadership.
What he valued… was usefulness.
Most people who entered the Blessed Land were doomed to die. No matter how brilliant they were, they could only save themselves.
But Qi Zhiyong wondered—if people were going to die anyway, why not let those with higher value live, and those with less… perish?
Someone like Wu Xian, even if he survived, would just be another lucky survivor.
But if Wen Chao could live… if he had the chance to pass on the knowledge in his mind… the world might actually become a better place.
One by one, the others returned to their rooms.
As soon as night fell, everyone locked their doors and windows tight. No matter what happened outside, no one dared to step out.
Fang Zhi paused in front of his door, his hand trembling slightly.
Only then did he notice—it was unmistakable. A muddy handprint stained the surface of his door.
He didn't believe in ghosts or the supernatural.
But what if everything they said earlier was true? What if… he was the next target?
Wen Chao noticed his unease. His expression shifted.
"You're staying with me tonight," Wen Chao said. "Don't go back in there."
Fang Zhi's face twisted with conflict. He shook his head stubbornly. "Professor, you know I've never believed in superstition. I believe in science."
Wen Chao stomped his foot in frustration and slapped him across the face. "Science exists to explain reality. If it requires you to twist facts to fit your belief, then what you believe in isn't science."
Fang Zhi hesitated, clearly shaken by his teacher's anger.
Just then, Qi Zhiyong came up the stairs and spoke lightly in passing.
"You'd better think this through. No one knows if that mark is targeting the person or the room. If you two share a room, you might both die."
"You—"
Wen Chao started to retort, but Qi Zhiyong had already slipped into his room and shut the door.
Fang Zhi froze, Qi Zhiyong's words lingering in his mind. Then, his expression hardened with resolve. He stepped back into his room and slammed the door in Wen Chao's face. No matter how long Wen Chao called out to him, he refused to open it again.
Wen Chao stood at the doorway for a long time before finally shaking his head in resignation and returning to his own room.
Fang Zhi, this young man… what he believed in was never true science, but a kind of faith—a religion of his own making, constructed from self-righteous logic. He refused to accept anything beyond that worldview.
Even when the truth stared him in the face.
At heart, he was no different from those blind religious fanatics.
Wen Chao had brought him along, hoping to one day change that flawed perspective. But before he'd even had the chance, they were already trapped in this cursed place.
Wu Xian returned to his room carrying a lunchbox, walking to the window to gaze outside.
Across the way, the corpse of the man still hung in place. His dead eyes stared straight at Wu Xian. It was unsettling—but Wu Xian wasn't bothered. The body wasn't going anywhere, after all.
When he first entered the room, the sun was still a good distance from the horizon. Now, it was halfway set. On his phone, the time numbers danced erratically.
"As expected, time in the Blessed Land is distorted… Hopefully it stabilizes tonight."
Fortunately, the phone's display was at least consistently chaotic, making it possible to track time in a twisted sort of way.
As night fell and before the evil spirits emerged, Wu Xian took a piece of greasy pork intestine left in the lunchbox and carefully smeared the fat over the door hinges.
Then he meticulously washed up—shaving his stubble, trimming his own hair, washing his head, face, feet, socks, and underwear. He cleaned himself thoroughly from head to toe.
If he hadn't died in that instant, then from now on—he'd live well.
A man should treat himself with dignity.
"So… this is the second night. I wonder what will happen."
Wu Xian found himself looking forward to it.
Warm sunlight poured down as a family of three stood outside an apartment building. They were here to buy a home.
Their son had been admitted to a prestigious university, and they had decided to settle down in this city—to start anew.
But now that they were standing at the entrance, hesitation set in.
The slightly plump, gentle-looking mother clutched her son's arm. "Ah Zhi, maybe we shouldn't buy this place… I heard from the neighbors that it's haunted."
Fang Zhi waved his hand impatiently.
"There are no such things as ghosts. People are just scaring themselves. So what if the cabinet door opens on its own? It's probably just a design flaw. This apartment is for me anyway. Just trust me—believe in science."
"This place has a great location, close to school, convenient transportation. Getting it for this price is a real steal."
"But…"
The woman was still uneasy.
"But what? If you don't believe me, then why send me to school at all?"
The gray-haired man beside her chuckled. "Of course we believe you. If we can't trust our top student, who can we trust?"
Neither of the parents had much education. Their son was the pride of the family—the only one to achieve academic success. Their future depended on him. From now on, all the major decisions would be his to make.
The father and son stepped into the building to finalize the purchase agreement with the real estate agent.
The woman lingered at the doorway for a moment, then smiled.
"Alright… I'll trust our son."
"Don't trust him!"
Fang Zhi jolted awake from a nightmare, clutching a bottle of liquor. His face was pale, drenched in cold sweat—completely unlike the bold, dismissive version of him seen during the day.
He sat there dazed for a few moments, then took several swigs of the alcohol and slapped himself twice across the face. Gritting his teeth, he growled low and fierce:
"Even if the whole world is scared, I won't be!"
"No matter who believes it—I won't! There are no ghosts, no monsters in this world!"
He grabbed several plastic bags and wrapped them tightly around his head, leaving only small openings for his eyes and nose. Then, armed with a spray bottle of alcohol disinfectant, he took position by the door and waited.
Time crept by, second after second.
At last, the knock came.
"Hello? Is anyone in there? Please, let me in! I'm Yu Yinghua, the innkeeper's wife—my husband's gone mad! He's trying to kill me!"
Creak.
The door opened.
Fang Zhi stood there, staring directly at her, eyes cold and unblinking.
Outside stood a middle-aged woman, her body smeared with mud—some dried, some fresh. Her face was caked in blood-tinged dirt, and her mouth was stuffed with soil and ashes, staining her teeth a ghastly black.
The woman tilted her head, slightly confused.
Something's not right.
No one should open the door that easily—wasn't he even the slightest bit wary of a trap? And why, instead of being frightened by her appearance, was he looking at her with that deeply unsettling gaze?
And that plastic bag over his head… was he already a suffocated spirit?
Ssssss—
Before Yu Yinghua could figure it out, Fang Zhi sprayed her down with disinfectant. Then, without a word, he yanked her inside by the arm and sat her down on a chair.
"You must be infected with some kind of virus, right?"
"Don't worry. I'm not a doctor, but I can help you."
"Let me run a quick examination. I don't have much equipment here, but I can do a preliminary—"
The ghostly Yu Yinghua was completely bewildered by Fang Zhi's relentless activity.
"Ahhh!"
When he raised a makeshift stethoscope fashioned from a cup and pressed it against her chest, Yu Yinghua let out a high-pitched screech. Then, contorting her limbs in an unnatural way, she scurried out of the room at inhuman speed.
"Wait—don't go!"
Fang Zhi ran out after her, but she had already vanished.
The chandelier in the corridor swung gently, casting flickering shadows in the dim yellow light. The hallway exuded an eerie unease—just standing there sent a chill straight into one's bones.
Fang Zhi leaned against the wall, looking up at the light with a strange smile.
"Ha… hahaha…"
The laugh sounded more like sobbing.