A certain dizziness.
The clear sound of water came from nearby, the muffled strike of the current audible, her body swaying gently atop the waves.
Jiang Yan frowned, then opened her eyes.
She found herself on a river, beneath her an old, battered bamboo raft. There was a strange scent lingering in the air—not the briny smell of the sea, but something more like the result of fermentation. The swirling mist around her was no longer that dense black, but a heavy white.
The mist was white.
That return to a sense of normalcy made Jiang Yan’s brow ease slightly.
“How are you feeling?”
A concerned woman’s voice from behind.
Jiang Yan turned—Lan Lin.
Unlike before departure, Lan Lin’s distinctive, personal attire was gone, replaced by coarse cloth: a short jacket and long trousers. Jiang Yan looked down and found that her own clothes were identical.
Having been focused on her surroundings, she’d only just noticed.
Now, she could tell the texture was unpleasant—almost abrasive, unmistakably shoddily made.
That indicated two things.
Either the setting’s era was undeveloped, or their status within this space was far from elevated.
The wooden token at Lan Lin’s chest glowed faintly, seeming to sharpen her mind: Jiang Yan’s headache eased a bit.
She exhaled softly. “I’m fine.”
Jiang Yan sat up, looked past Lan Lin. The fog was thick, but she could vaguely see two people lying down on the raft not far away. Further, she couldn’t make out anything at all.
Who could say how long this bamboo raft truly was?
Lan Lin explained, “That’s Mint Candy and Shen Huanhuan. I tried to wake them just now, but it didn’t work. They’ll have to come around on their own.”
Jiang Yan nodded.
She suggested: “Shall we take a look together?”
Lan Lin smiled, “Just what I was about to ask you.”
No telling where the raft might carry them, but their game had begun the instant they entered the energy field. At the very least, they needed to check on their teammates. The two started off together.
The gentle sway of the raft kept their steps slow and their voices soft.
Passing Mint Candy and Shen Huanhuan, Jiang Yan walked nearly ten meters before she found Yu Renwan, who had just woken up. Jiang Yan told her to keep watch on the two who were still unconscious.
After a few more minutes’ walk, Jiang Yan found no one else.
It was only at the very end of the raft that she saw the last person—the buzzcut young man who’d earlier threatened to call the police. He lay spread-eagle on the bamboo, his left hand submerged in the river.
So, there were six people in total on this raft.
There must be another raft, carrying the other five.
For ordinary people, energy fields exceeded the realm of their comprehension.
Jiang Yan doubted that once awake, the buzzcut man wouldn’t cause trouble—accusing them of kidnapping or raising a ruckus about leaving, perhaps.
After conferring with Lan Lin, Lan Lin applied a silencing talisman to him.
“Well, kidnapping charges are now official,” Lan Lin quipped, lightening the mood.
Jiang Yan cooperated with a faint smile.
Shen Huanhuan and Mint Candy woke almost simultaneously. Lan Lin waved her wooden token before their faces, and the confusion in both their eyes faded.
Shen Huanhuan looked around, nervous. “Where’s Xiaoxiao…?”
Jiang Yan: “Didn’t see her. She’s probably on another raft.”
Worrying blindly was useless. Shen Huanhuan shut her eyes, then struggled upright from the raft.
Jiang Yan leaned in and whispered something.
A tense look flashed across Shen Huanhuan’s face; she immediately removed her eye patch.
Because of congenital illness, her irises were usually a pale brownish pink, but now, in her right eye, a faint circle of gold ringed the pupil—a disquieting, strange beauty.
Sweeping her gaze over the six on the raft, Shen Huanhuan shook her head at Jiang Yan.
Jiang Yan let out a breath.
She’d been worried a ghost might have mingled among them, but now it appeared that fear was unfounded.
No ghosts—so much the better.
The buzzcut man was still out. Lan Lin dragged him in front of her for strict supervision.
Time seemed to stretch.
Jiang Yan checked her backpack. She’d packed it full, but now half of it was empty.
Only a few preserved, simple pastries remained. Cream biscuits and chocolate snacks were all gone.
Feeling the side pocket, she found her flashlight still there—but now altered, replaced with a simple, old-fashioned model.
Shen Huanhuan, noticing, analyzed softly: “It feels like a rural setting from last century.”
“These coarse clothes are for fieldwork. Uncomfortable, but bug-proof, stain-resistant, hard to tear. Even your remaining pastries, likely peach crisps or stove biscuits—old-time treats.”
Jiang Yan hummed agreement.
Shen Huanhuan mused on: “But it might actually be modern—the guiding spirit behind this field maybe never left the countryside, so the imagination is limited… Hard to say…”
“I just hope Xiaoxiao’s okay.”
She didn’t want to provoke panic, only muttering quietly before dropping the topic.
“The fog’s thinner now,” she noted, changing the subject and looking ahead.
Earlier, visibility was three meters. Now it was closer to five, and the outlines of the surrounding scenery were gradually surfacing.
They were floating along a river through a huge cavern.
The cave was massive: jagged rock formations carved by water lined the walls, but regularly spaced, broad stone slabs—about two meters wide—were set into the upper walls at intervals.
Visibility reached almost seven or eight meters.
Jiang Yan squinted and examined the stone slabs, taking out her flashlight. The downgrade meant fewer watts, but it should be enough for a good look.
She switched it to the dimmest setting.
Lan Lin’s expression looked like she wanted to stop her, but she held back.
The faint light pierced through the mist. Swarms of tiny cave mosquitoes were roused; their buzzing intensified, but the dim beam didn’t provoke flight.
Jiang Yan strained to see further upward.
The light wasn’t enough.
She glanced around; as another group of “stone beds” appeared ahead, she switched the flashlight to full beam and hurled it overhead—
This not only sent the orb of black insects into a frenzy, but threw all the cave’s wall details into sharp relief.
The stillness was instantaneous.
The sight was utterly unnerving.
Those were not stone beds at all.
They were coffins.
Dense rows of blood-red coffins.
Blood-red coffins clinging to the cave walls, plastered over with yellow talismans—so old the vermilion pigment was almost gone, the paper crusted with filthy webs and dotted with dead insects’ remains.
Instantly, swarms of bug-black surged toward the light, raising a stench, snatching at translucent wings caught in the webs. There were so many, their scrabbling sounded like someone crunching plastic wrap underfoot.
Moments later, the flashlight plunged into the river and darkness closed in once more.
Only this darkness felt even heavier.
When the insect noises finally faded, Mint Candy shivered and rubbed her arms. “W-what were those?”
Shen Huanhuan spoke softly, “I think those were hanging coffins.”
“An ancient funeral practice among some southern minorities—common in many places.”
And that was the end of the discussion.
It could only end there.
No one knew what the coffins represented, or whether they meant anything at all.
The atmosphere grew oppressive.
It was then the buzzcut man finally awoke.
He moved noisily, startled when he realized he was in a strange place, and all eyes turned to him.
Jiang Yan was rather sorry—if he’d seen those coffins, the fear might have kept him obedient.
But he wasn’t so lucky.
He woke to find himself on a raft, mute, and instantly assumed he’d been poisoned by a cult. He stared at them in terror.
Lan Lin crouched to explain, but naturally, he rejected all reality, convinced they were brainwashing him. He even attempted to jump in and flee, but Lan Lin quickly seized him.
“It’s for your own protection,” Lan Lin said, “This is no place for arguments.”
The buzzcut man curled in on himself, shuddering.
Lan Lin sighed and ruffled her hair, but the man’s ridiculous antics eased the tension for everyone.
To conserve stamina, Lan Lin got everyone to sit back-to-back in a circle.
Another ten minutes, and the mist lifted considerably, the raft drifting out from the cavern.
A red glow flashed deep in the fog.
Every psychic aboard stood at once, on edge.
A burst of bells rang out.
Three enormous white foxes, each nearly five meters tall, emerged—holding red umbrellas as they swayed upright on the water, glancing back now and then. Their heads were so high they didn’t notice the people.
Once the foxes had passed, the buzzcut man was petrified.
He pinched himself viciously, convinced it wasn’t a dream.
Remembering Lan Lin’s earlier words—‘This isn’t reality, this place has ghosts, only by clearing the mission can you survive…’—his face crumpled.
The worst was yet to come.
As the raft glided into the fog that the foxes had crossed, the somber clang of a gong echoed.
Someone stepped from the distant mist.
A closer look revealed it was not just one but a line of people. The leader wore a straw hat and black, wide Daoist robes, striking a gong with one hand, a queue of indistinguishable figures following.
As they neared, all could see these were rigid, gray corpses, skin covered with vermilion and yellow talismans.
“Clang—”
With each strike, the dead linked arms upon the shoulders ahead. Step by step the robed figure led them in single file across the river, never wetting his feet.
Clang—
The Taoist’s raspy voice rang out:
“Dust returns to dust, earth to earth. Corpses walk Xiangxi—living men stand aside—”
Everyone unconsciously held their breath, terrified he might attack.
But he did not. Like the foxes, he led his corpses on, disappearing into the fog.
Yu Renwan swallowed. “Xiangxi…”
Shen Huanhuan answered quietly, “Hanging coffins did indeed exist there.”
Yu Renwan’s face was drawn.
Lan Lin’s wasn’t any better. She stared out at the endless fog and river, unsettled.
Would it really be this easy?
Since when are supernatural beings ever merciful?
Jiang Yan spoke: “None of them touched the water.”
Lan Lin turned. “What?”
Jiang Yan: “Even while walking on the river, their shoes stayed dry.”
There was something wrong with the river water.
With a start, Lan Lin looked back at the buzzcut man.
She remembered: While unconscious, he’d soaked his hand in the river.
Jiang Yan looked as well.
She said evenly, “Mind if I cut off your left hand?”
Sheer terror dawned on his face. He waved frantically, gesturing for everyone to look: his left hand was bone-dry.
But then he seemed puzzled and lowered his gaze.
At the base of his thumb was a one-centimeter wound.
Maybe nerves had dulled in his panic, but until now he hadn’t felt a thing.
He let his hand drop, oblivious, but Jiang Yan pounced and gripped it tightly.
He was perplexed, but Jiang Yan didn’t look at him, only at the wound.
From it, a red beetle-like bug was slowly crawling out.
His face went instantly rigid.
One, then two.
Three, four, five…
A stream of beetles kept pouring from the wound—the sight unbearable. The man silently screamed in horror; unable to make a sound, he could only gape, mouth blocked by some invisible force.
Soon, bugs began crawling from his throat and then his eye sockets.
Jiang Yan said at once: “He’s doomed. Get him off the raft!”
She moved to kick him into the river—Shen Huanhuan’s palm flashed gold, ready to help.
This man was clearly not going to survive; soon the bugs would multiply, and if they started gnawing the raft, everyone would die. But Mint Candy suddenly stopped them.
“I’m good at healing—I’ll try, maybe he’ll survive!”
She pasted talismans on his eyes and the wound, chanting urgently.
To the naked eye, the wound slowly closed.
The agony eased from his face.
Mint Candy lifted her face, a little proud, “See?”
Saving a life should bring pride.
That is, if it worked.
Mint Candy was about to keep chanting when, abruptly, the man’s body began to swell like a balloon. She barely had time to react; Shen Huanhuan yanked her back, and at the same instant Jiang Yan kicked the man into the river.
But it was still a moment too late.
As his body neared the water, it exploded. The majority of the red bugs spilled into the river, the rest onto the raft.
A bout of chaos followed.
Finally, Lan Lin drove the bugs to the raft’s far end, and Jiang Yan split the raft in two.
Mint Candy was pale. “Sorry, I, I…”
Jiang Yan: “You sealed all the exits. The bugs had nowhere to go, so he could only swell up.”
Mint Candy dropped her head. Lan Lin patted her shoulder.
“Your intent was good, just be more careful next time.”
And that was the end of it. Though some crimson organic matter was left on the bamboo, none paid it much mind.
The buzzcut man died a gruesome death. Everyone became hyper-aware of avoiding the water.
Tense, watchful.
They drifted through the fog, landed at an unknown shore, and nothing else happened.
Only, far behind, came a single, faint, despairing scream.
Sharply hopeless.
Shen Huanhuan feared it might be Shen Xiaoxiao, and was on edge until the second bamboo raft docked and she saw her sister.
The twins breathed out as one.
The group gathered, head-counting.
All the psychics survived. Of the three ordinary people swept along, two were dead: the buzzcut man and an unknown girl. Only a mentally shattered man was left.
He muttered constantly under his breath, but no one could spare him sympathy now.
Jiang Yan scanned the area. There was a little wooden sign at the shore.
[Auspicious Land, The Most Beautiful Xiangxi]
Auspicious land?
Yu Renwan muttered, “A place full of corpses, and they call it auspicious… If that isn’t self-aggrandizement…”
Shen Xiaoxiao’s expression was deeply approving.
She briefed them quickly on how the girl had died. Their raft had trailed closely behind, so they’d seen the three foxes and the corpse-herder. By grim luck, the girl awoke as the corpse procession passed. Faced with the terrifying sight, she screamed.
Every zombie immediately turned toward her. She went glassy-eyed, stood, walked into the water, placed her arm on a zombie’s shoulder, and joined the parade; step by step, she followed them into the mist, vanishing completely.
Shen Huanhuan looked wistful.
Only Lan Lin could perform the silencing spell, and she’d been on their own raft. The girl had just been unlucky.
Then again, has any ordinary person here been lucky?
Shen Xiaoxiao shook her head too.
She looked up. The white mist had nearly dissipated, revealing their surroundings.
An old, dilapidated school.
A few classrooms are dimly lit. In a fifth-floor window, a black shadow seemed to be staring out at them.
At the same moment, the words [Auspicious Land] on the sign vanished.
Newly inked characters appeared:
[Welcome to Wuhai High School.]
[All new students must arrive and complete their enrollment procedures by midnight.]