Chapter 34: The Monster Has Arrived

In Lin Kuo’s vision, apart from the Lin Zhi who was telling the story and the Lin Zhi standing to the side stroking the cat from time to time, the expressions of the other Lin Zhis were extremely grim.

The materialized ancient pagoda tree from Number 1 Lin Zhi’s story could be burned down, and even the materialized mental illness hadn’t caused any deaths among the participants. But a ghost—that was a different matter altogether.

Ghosts are inherently unsolvable.

Yan Jie casually summarized the movie’s content:
“The protagonist, Sadako…”

He paused, then deliberately emphasized,
“She could kill people with her mind while she was still alive. Her father tricked her into the well and killed her when she wasn’t paying attention. Sadako’s resentment turned into a videotape. Anyone who watches the videotape will immediately summon Sadako and get killed by her.”

The crowd glared at Yan Jie, their eyes filled with resentment.

That’s not how it went!

In the movie, the videotape only triggered a phone call after seven days, and only then would Sadako appear. Plus, there was a loophole—you could copy the tape and show it to someone else to survive.

Yan Jie had twisted the story, sealing off all escape routes.

The old man frowned deeply.
“My goodness, this is truly too terrifying. Number 8’s story—”

Yan Jie cut him off, “I’m not done yet.”

The old man gave an apologetic smile,
“Ah, my mistake. I was too impatient. Guest Number 8, please continue.”

Ignoring the crowd’s hateful and terrified stares, Yan Jie prepared to continue.

“Wait.”
Lin Kuo suddenly spoke up.

The old man shot him a disapproving glance.
“Guest Number 13, when someone is telling a story, the listener should quietly listen. You’re affecting Guest Number 8’s train of thought—and everyone’s listening experience.”

Lin Zhi nervously tugged at Lin Kuo’s sleeve, unsure of what he was planning.

Because the old man had been standing the whole time while everyone else was slouched on the sofa, Lin Kuo could easily pick him out. His gaze locked onto the old man.
“Sorry, I’m scared. Can I hold your cat?”

The old man hesitated.

Lin Kuo added, “I’m afraid I’ll faint from fear. If I faint and miss the story, I’ll regret it.”

His voice trembled, sounding genuinely terrified. Only Lin Zhi—and Lin Kuo himself—knew that this was just a side effect of his depression.

After thinking it over for a moment, the old man finally said,
“Alright then.”

He looked at the black cat perched on the coffee table.
“Shen, go to Guest Number 13.”

The cat licked its paw, as if weighing whether Lin Kuo’s lap was more comfortable than the coffee table. After about ten seconds, it gracefully leaped into Lin Kuo’s lap, curled up, and waited to be petted.

“Bro…”
Lin Zhi looked at Lin Kuo anxiously. She had clearly felt his body stiffen the moment the cat jumped onto him.

Lin Kuo quietly reassured her with a glance, then steeled himself and began petting the black cat. His technique was awkward—he hadn’t done this in a long time. But perhaps because no one besides the old man had ever petted it, the black cat still condescended to purr softly.

Once Lin Kuo quieted down, the old man turned back to Yan Jie.
“Sorry, Number 13 was just scared. But now everything’s fine. Please continue.”

Yan Jie glanced at Lin Kuo and then at Jiang Sheng, who had remained silent the entire time. He smirked.

Jiang Sheng was too young to have seen “The Ring”, or even know who Sadako was. His idea of a ghost was vague at best.

So Yan Jie was sure: the person affected by the materialized depression was Jiang Sheng.

Yan Jie continued, “Because Sadako had a miserable childhood, she always targets children first.”

“Damn it,”
Lin Zhi gritted her teeth. She wanted to get up and shut Yan Jie’s dog mouth herself.

Yan Jie wasn’t just aiming for his own duration and number scores—he was trying to kill Zhang Mengnan too.

Lin Kuo gently pulled her back and shook his head.

Once Lin Zhi quieted down, Lin Kuo continued petting the black cat in his lap. He was allergic to fur, but this cat’s coat seemed fused to its skin—no matter how much he stroked it, no fine hairs floated into the air.

Yan Jie’s story went on.
He described in vivid detail how many people Sadako had killed and the gruesome ways she had done it.

The newbies lowered their heads, uneasy.

Number 2 had already told his story, so he had a baseline. He secretly compared his perverted serial killer to Yan Jie’s ghost story—but Number 3 was trembling, his eyes filled with despair. He imagined the scene vividly: Sadako climbing out of the TV…

The veterans, however, realized Yan Jie’s true intent—he was stalling for time.

If the Number 2 boy hadn’t gone first, Yan Jie wouldn’t have given anyone else the chance to tell a story today.

Lin Kuo kept petting the cat, his anxiety gradually lessening.

His mind, which had been in chaos for a long time, finally started to clear.
He recalled the paper Lin Zhi had summarized yesterday.

Under [Clues That Need to Be Verified], there was still one unchecked item:
“Does the cat see the storyteller’s story through its third eye?”

So while Yan Jie told his story, Lin Kuo quietly covered the black cat’s third eye.

The cat’s head was small; he could easily cover it with one hand.
Everyone else was too focused on the story—and their own survival—to notice his small action.

Until the old man said,
“Number 8’s story is very exciting, but unfortunately there are only 20 minutes left before the session ends. We still need to score, so please wrap it up, Number 8.”

Yan Jie nodded.

After talking so long, his lips were cracked and dry.
But seeing that he’d achieved his goal, he smiled—a smile more terrifying than the ghost he’d just described.

“Sadako’s curse grew stronger. She could kill even without a videotape, and do so invisibly. Eventually, she became basically unsolvable. I hope I never meet her.”

He had infuriated everyone.

Even the players who’d sided with him now glared in silence. But Yan Jie was the most experienced veteran here—so they only dared to be angry, not speak out.

The old man collected the papers and smiled at everyone.
“I’ve heard many good stories, but Guest Number 8’s will definitely get a high score. Let’s score it now.”

Lin Zhi raised her hand.

The old man tilted his head,
“Guest Number 1, do you have a request?”

“I have a question.” Lin Zhi blinked innocently.
“Can we give a negative score?”

The old man smiled,
“I think ‘0’ is already low enough.”
His words did not directly say whether negative scores were possible.

Lin Zhi wasn’t disappointed, just angry.

Lin Kuo and Jiang Sheng hadn’t told their stories yet. If negative scores were really allowed, who knew what Yan Jie might do in retaliation?

Yan Jie’s face twisted for a moment, then he smiled at Lin Zhi viciously.
“Beauty, don’t you think you’re going too far?”

Lin Zhi wasn’t afraid and glared back.

Actually, she regretted asking that question.
She knew exactly what kind of person Yan Jie was.
Even if she didn’t give him a negative score, it’s not like he’d be grateful.

Still, she really wanted to.

Lin Kuo held her back.
“Don’t.”

He had a bad feeling.
The old man’s words always carried hidden meanings.

It was the third day of the instance. Their interactions with the old man were no small matter. The rules about storytelling and scoring were clear—but things like duration score and number score were vague and ambiguous.

If giving a negative score triggered unintended consequences, it wasn’t worth it.

“Don’t mess around,” Lin Kuo warned.

Lin Zhi muttered,
“Okay, I know.”

Soon, Yan Jie’s final score appeared.

The old man announced:
“Guest Number 8’s score is ’30’. Congratulations.”

Yan Jie:
“Thank you.”

The old man smiled again.
“Lunch is ready. Everyone can eat after a rest.”

He looked at Lin Kuo.
“Guest Number 13, can you return Shen to me?”

Lin Kuo handed the black cat back.

The old man took the drowsy cat and happily went to set up lunch.

Once Among the 13 people, the ones with scores were as follows:

Name: Lin Zhi
Number: [1]
Duration Score: 0
Number Score: 0
Story Score: 15
Total Score: 15
Ranking: 3

Name: Duan Lei
Number: [2]
Duration Score: 0
Number Score: 0
Story Score: 10
Total Score: 10
Ranking: 4

Name: Yan Jie
Number: [8]
Duration Score: 0
Number Score: 0
Story Score: 30
Total Score: 30
Ranking: 2

Name: Zhang Mengnan
Number: [12]
Duration Score: 36
Number Score: 0
Story Score: 15
Total Score: 51
Ranking: 1

Name: Lin Kuo
Number: [13]
Duration Score: 3
Number Score: 0
Story Score: 0
Total Score: 3
Ranking: 5

Yan Jie had surged to second place, knocking Lin Zhi to third. Lin Kuo had fallen out of the top three entirely.

The others were emboldened.
The story score was the key.
With just their stories, they could defeat Lin Kuo’s team of three and Zhang Mengnan’s group too—and they hadn’t even told their stories yet.

If they came up with something more terrifying and unsolvable than Sadako, they could win easily.

Yan Jie looked at Lin Zhi like he was looking at a corpse.
“If nothing unexpected happens, your score won’t change anymore. What a pity, such a pretty girl.”

Lin Zhi shot back,
“Your family probably only has one person on the household register, right? So you don’t have to worry about your whole family getting cursed when you talk like this.”

Yan Jie was in high spirits and didn’t get mad.
“Little girl, with a sharp tongue like that, aren’t you afraid of not being able to get married? But I get it—it’s just impotent rage.”

Lin Kuo wanted to punch him.
But Yan Jie still looked like Lin Zhi in his eyes, and he couldn’t bring himself to hit him.

So he silently took note of the debt and whispered to Lin Zhi,
“Let’s go back to the room.”

***

The three of them returned to the room.
A story session and so much social contact had exhausted Lin Kuo.

After catching his breath, he said,
“Yan Jie must have discovered something.”

Lin Zhi didn’t want to admit it, but she had to.

Yan Jie’s story was too impossible.
There had to be a reason he wasn’t afraid of the ghost attacking him.

“Give me the paper.”

Lin Zhi handed it over.

Lin Kuo quickly browsed through it, but his head was foggy and heavy. His mind just wouldn’t turn.

Lin Zhi leaned in.
“Bro, Zhang Mengnan said Yan Jie knows people in the Upper District. Could he have some life-saving item?”

Lin Kuo froze.

Then he suddenly remembered—he still had an online love interest.

He immediately sent Sheng Wen a message, telling him not to donate anything to him.
Afraid Sheng Wen would think he was being ungrateful, he added:

[Lin Kuo]: I can still handle it for now.
[Sweet as the Wind]: I know, big brother.
[Sweet as the Wind]: You’ve been in a bad mood lately. Try venting a little. If you’re willing to confide in me, I’ll be happy to listen.

Lin Kuo started typing a polite response, but then realized—
Sheng Wen was exploiting a bug in the Main God System, gently hinting at the solution to depression: venting, confiding, talking.

That’s why psychologists set up sessions for conversation with patients.

Because he’d been drowning in his depression, steeped in guilt and self-blame, he’d missed the clues.

Sheng Wen had been reminding him all along.

That song, “The Sun Never Sets,” had been a hint too.

When you’re depressed, listening to music, talking to someone, or venting is better than bottling it up.

If Sheng Wen hadn’t repeatedly nudged him, Lin Kuo might have forgotten that he used to deal with his bad moods by drawing.

Just like yesterday, Lin Zhi went downstairs to get food for the two of them.

When she came back, she also brought the drawing board, sketch paper, and various types of pens that Lin Kuo needed.

Lin Kuo didn’t even care about eating. He sat by the window and began to draw.
His hand hovered in mid-air for a long time, unsure what to sketch.
Eventually, he thought, Wasn’t this desire to draw influenced by Sheng Wen?
In that case, he might as well draw Sheng Wen.

Although he didn’t know what Sheng Wen actually looked like, Lin Kuo already had an image of him in his heart.
He outlined a face shape according to his imagination.
But just as he was about to add facial features, Lin Kuo hesitated—and gave up.

He was worried.
What if Sheng Wen isn’t good-looking?

It wasn’t that he was shallow. He—he liked Sheng Wen no matter what he looked like.
He just didn’t want this drawing to create pressure for Sheng Wen.

Thinking this way, Lin Kuo changed his mind.
He would draw himself.
If he had the chance to go to Upper C District later, he’d give this self-portrait to Sheng Wen.

With this thought, Lin Kuo’s pen started moving, fast and unhesitating.
When someone draws their own portrait, they often get stuck because they can’t remember the details of their own face.
But Lin Kuo’s pen moved surprisingly smoothly.
He was completely immersed in the process.
And as he drew, his mind gradually cleared.

His thoughts returned to Yan Jie.
Yan Jie was selfish.
That much had been clear from his behavior at the story session.
A person like that would never reveal all their clues to the group.
Yan Jie had mentioned three important clues:
Only the most terrifying existence in the story would be materialized.
The materialization would last for as long as the person’s duration score.
Killing the materialization would transfer the duration score to the killer.

Earlier, Lin Kuo had been too clouded by depression to think critically.
Back then, he’d relied on instinct to feel that Yan Jie’s words couldn’t be fully trusted.
But he hadn’t been able to figure out exactly why.
Now, as his mind cleared, he finally found the reason.

The third clue—“killing the materialization allows you to obtain the duration score”—was too precious.

Would Yan Jie really reveal something like that?
Wouldn’t he be afraid someone else might kill a materialization and steal Zhang Mengnan’s duration score?

At 12 noon today, Zhang Mengnan’s duration score was already 36.

Whoever got that ’36’—as long as their story score wasn’t too terrible—would basically be guaranteed a spot in the top three.
So why would Yan Jie leak this information?

Lin Kuo paused in his drawing.
He reached for the paper on the table.

With his pen, he directly crossed out one of the ‘to be verified‘ clues:

[If someone else destroys the materialization, they can take the duration score for themselves.]

No. That was definitely false.

Yan Jie had made it up to mislead them.

He wanted the participants to kill the materialization—not to gain points, but to stop the duration score from increasing.

That way, Zhang Mengnan’s 36 would be frozen, and Yan Jie could tell a more powerful story and secure his ranking.

In order to get the group to believe his third clue, Yan Jie had first shared the first two as bait.

Lin Kuo stared at the paper.

The biggest contradictions were still in the section labeled [Questions that have no answers for now].

He looked at the list of unresolved questions and frowned slightly.

Maybe there will be answers tonight…
But whose materialization would appear?
Would it be Number 2’s?
Or would it be Yan Jie’s?

Late at night, Duan Lei, who had gotten number 2, looked at the clock in the room uneasily.
The hour hand pointed to 11, and the minute hand pointed to 6.
It was now 11:30.

There were still 30 minutes left before his story materialized.

Duan Lei’s heart pounded in his chest.
He had an indescribable sense of foreboding.
He glanced at the door, then got up and locked it from the inside.

His bare feet on the cold floor made him shiver.
Duan Lei quickly wrapped himself in the quilt and climbed back into bed.
His mouth was unbearably dry.
He reached out from under the quilt, fumbling for the water bottle by the bed.
After finding it, he unscrewed the cap with trembling hands and poured the water into his mouth.

He drank the entire bottle—but his thirst still wasn’t quenched.
It left him feeling restless, uncomfortable.
He carefully lifted the quilt, glanced at the clock.
Still 11:30.
There were 30 minutes left.
So he dared to get up and rush to the bathroom.
He turned on the faucet and drank directly from his cupped hands.

His stomach was bloated from the water, but the thirst still didn’t go away.
Duan Lei was on the verge of breaking down.

Has the materialization already started?
Could it be affecting me?
He panicked.
With so many mental illnesses in one story, thirst could be a reasonable symptom, right?
No.

Duan Lei immediately rejected that thought.
Impossible!

The one affected by Zhang Mengnan’s materialization was that kid.
So the one affected by his own story’s materialization couldn’t be him.

Besides, he had checked the clock before coming into the bathroom.
There were still 30 minutes left!
He was just scaring himself.
Right. That was it.

He kept comforting himself.
He forced himself to stop drinking and decided to go back to sleep.
Sleeping early was the safest option.
He still remembered:
Tonight’s materializations weren’t just his own, but also that bastard Number 8’s.

Duan Lei made up his mind.
No matter who knocks on the door tonight, I won’t open it.
For safety, he even moved the TV and shoved it into the closet.

Now it was fine.
No matter which materialization appeared, it couldn’t get to him.
After doing all this, Duan Lei checked the time again.
Mmm. Still half an hour left.
He was a good sleeper.
Half an hour was enough to fall asleep.
When he woke up, he’d have a new duration score.

With this thought, Duan Lei turned to go back to bed.
But as soon as he took a few steps, he froze.
His mind went blank.
He had looked at the clock three times.
First, on the bed: 11:30.
Second, before going to the bathroom: 11:30.
Third, just now: 11:30.

The clock hadn’t moved at all.
A chill ran down Duan Lei’s spine.
What’s going on…?
Is Sadako here?
Panicking, he backed away from the closet—away from the TV.
He walked toward the window instead.
It was the farthest spot from the closet.
His room was only on the second floor.
If he really had no choice, he could still jump out.

Even if he broke an arm or a leg, that was better than being strangled to death by Sadako.
He hurried to the window, pulled open the curtain, preparing to jump.
But the scene behind the curtain nearly made him faint.

A little boy was crouched behind the curtain, staring up at him blankly.
“You’ve been found.”

Duan Lei’s head buzzed.
His voice trembled uncontrollably.
“Wh-who… who are you?”

The little boy said,
“I’m a monster.”

“A… a monster?”

The boy nodded,
“I have autism, depression, schizophrenia… I’m an anti-personality, anti-social monster.”

Duan Lei threw up in fear.
Only the most terrifying existence in the story would be materialized.
Back then, he had only cared about the duration score.
He had completely forgotten that the real horror in his story wasn’t the illnesses—it was the boy who had all of them.

The little boy tilted his head.
“Is it your turn now?”

Duan Lei barely managed to speak.
“Wha…”

The little boy pointed to the clock.
“Hide. If I can’t find you in 30 minutes, I won’t kill you.”

Duan Lei’s eyes went black.
“That clock is broken!”

The little boy lowered his head.
When he looked up again, he wore a strange smile.
“Then I’ll definitely kill you.”

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!”

***

Lin Kuo’s drawing hand paused.
Lin Zhi and Jiang Sheng had clearly heard the screams too.
Lin Zhi sat up from the bed,
“It’s Number 2!”

Lin Kuo was about to speak when he heard heavy, slow footsteps outside the door.
Then—knock knock knock.

Lin Zhi and Jiang Sheng’s faces went pale.
“Bro…”

Lin Kuo shook his head, signaling them not to speak.
Then he whispered,
“It’s not door number 4.”

Number 4 was Jiang Sheng’s room.
Lin Kuo listened carefully.

The knocking wasn’t clear, but he was certain—the door actually being knocked on was door number 3.

Number 2, Number 3… The next would be Number 4.
And the three of them were currently in room number 4.

Lin Kuo tiptoed to the door.
Through the small crack, the knocking became clearer.

He was even more certain now—it was door number 3.
Perhaps because no one had opened it for a long time, the knocking changed.

Thump thump thump—
It sounded like someone hammering on the door.

Since their room was right next to number 3, and since Lin Kuo wanted to see what was going on, he signaled Lin Zhi and Jiang Sheng to hide.

Then he slowly opened the door just a crack.
Through the gap, he saw it.
Lin Zhi was smashing the door of room 3, muttering “The monster is here” with each hit.

Lin Kuo stared at this doppelgänger of Lin Zhi.
He silently repeated the phrase “The monster is here,” as if thinking of something.
Then he closed the door, ready to write down his discovery.

But when he turned around, he saw Lin Zhi fiddling with the TV inside the room.
Lin Kuo’s tone became stern.
“Didn’t I tell you to hide?”

From the bathroom, Lin Zhi’s voice replied,
“Bro… I am hiding. I’m in the bathroom. Jiang Sheng is here too.”

Her voice was shaking.

“So… who’s the ‘Lin Zhi’ you saw?”