“They said ten days, but today should be considered ‘Day Zero,’ right?” Lin Qin switched hands to cover her nose and mouth before adding, “If you leave now, you won’t be able to see the road soon—there aren’t even streetlights here.”
Qi Xia knew Lin Qin had a point, so he quietly walked to the side and sat down on a clean shelf.
He had been too impatient, so much so that he hadn’t even checked the time.
But he couldn’t wait to escape this damned place and see his wife.
To see Yu Nian’an.
To see the girl who loved wearing white.
“Xiao An, I’ll get out of this hellhole soon,” he murmured to himself. “Just wait—we’ll have money soon.”
Qi Xia’s expression was different from the others—there was no panic, no sorrow, just urgency.
As the sky darkened, everyone found clean spots to sit.
Fortunately, the night here wasn’t cold, but they were all hungry, having gone nearly a full day without food or water. Everyone felt weak.
No one spoke anymore. They just watched silently as the dull yellow sun sank below the horizon, plunging the world into complete darkness.
The day’s events felt like a nightmare to everyone. They all hoped that when they opened their eyes again, all the strangeness would disappear.
The entire city seemed to fall into an eerie silence, as if brewing something unseen. In the distance, faint rustling sounds could be heard, but no one could make them out clearly.
It was too dark—so dark they couldn’t even tell if their eyes were open.
Having grown up in the city, none of them had ever experienced such pitch-black darkness before.
“Hey, Scammer, you asleep?” Qiao Jiajin suddenly spoke up from nearby.
“What is it?”
“You think… there are other ‘participants’ here?”
Qi Xia was silent for a moment before answering, “I’ve thought about that too. ‘Human Dragon’ said millions have walked out of the door. Logically, there should be more than just the nine of us…”
Qiao Jiajin also fell silent before asking, “What if that female shopkeeper was someone who walked out of the door before?”
“Huh?” Qi Xia was taken aback—he hadn’t considered that possibility. After all, the woman seemed like she had lived here for years.
But on second thought, it wasn’t impossible. Whether people were taken here ten years early or ten days early didn’t matter. What mattered was that, according to ‘Human Dragon,’ this place would be annihilated in ten days.
They might have different starting points, but the end was the same.
The fortunate thing was, they probably wouldn’t lose their minds like the shopkeeper—after all, they only had to endure this place for ten days.
No matter what, they’d see the ‘result’ in ten days.
“Scammer? You asleep?” Qiao Jiajin asked again.
Qi Xia ignored him this time, turning his head away and focusing on the day’s events.
What was the reason behind all these bizarre occurrences?
Getting no response, Qiao Jiajin didn’t press further and soon fell silent.
Not long after, two other voices spoke up in the darkness—likely Dr. Zhao and Officer Li.
“Dr. Zhao…”
“Yes?”
“I wanted to ask… can a woman who’s severely malnourished still conceive?”
Dr. Zhao paused, understanding Officer Li’s implication. The shopkeeper looked like she hadn’t eaten properly in ages—how could she have given birth?
The others seemed interested too, waiting quietly for his answer.
Dr. Zhao organized his thoughts before saying, “It’s complicated. Chronic malnutrition in women can lead to irregular menstruation, amenorrhea, or even anovulation—meaning they can’t ovulate and thus can’t conceive.”
“So… is this another thing science can’t explain?” Officer Li asked grimly. “That shopkeeper looked like she was in terrible condition.”
“It’s hard to say definitively. In some parts of Africa, people have extremely low nutritional intake, yet birth rates remain high…” Dr. Zhao sighed. “But this isn’t my specialty. It involves individual physiology and key nutrient intake—I don’t know enough to say for sure.”
Officer Li didn’t reply, falling silent again.
The room lapsed back into quiet.
Qi Xia hadn’t planned on sleeping, but without sight, human perception blurs, and eventually, thought itself fades.
To the faint rustling sounds outside, Qi Xia’s eyelids grew heavy.
He didn’t know when he dozed off, but in his dreams, he saw Yu Nian’an.
“Xia, did you know? There are many paths in this world, and everyone has their own.”
“Yes, Xiao An, I know,” Qi Xia nodded in the dream. “I’ll be out soon. Just wait.”
Time passed indeterminately until a deafening bell tolled like thunder, jolting Qi Xia awake.
He scrambled to his feet, finding daylight outside.
The others were just as startled, looking around in alarm—the bell had woken them all.
“What was that?!” Xiao Ran instinctively hid behind Officer Li.
Before anyone could react, a strange coughing sound came from the corner of the room.
It sounded like someone choking on water.
Dr. Zhao turned slowly toward the noise—only to freeze in horror.
Han Yimo lay on the ground, a pitch-black greatsword impaled through his abdomen like a nail, pinning him to the floor. Most of the blade was buried deep, as if driven in with tremendous force.
Blood gushed from his mouth as he coughed violently.
“Hey! Writer!” Qiao Jiajin rushed over to check on him.
“Cough… Qi… Qi Xia…” Han Yimo reached out, his voice strained—not with pain or fear, but confusion.
Qi Xia frowned, crouching down to take Han Yimo’s hand.
“I’m here,” he said, glancing up at the ceiling.
It was completely intact—the sword hadn’t fallen from above.
Han Yimo’s lips trembled, his eyes glistening before he suddenly burst into tears.
“This… this place isn’t right… Qi Xia… cough… This can’t be happening… This ‘Seven Black Sword’… absolutely… cough… can’t… Qi Xia… ‘Seven Black Sword’ isn’t…”
His coughing worsened, making speech impossible. Blood sprayed from his mouth, flooding back into his nose.
After a few violent coughs, Han Yimo stiffened—then went still.
In the throes of suffocation, even a few words had drained all his strength.
After all, how much time do the truly dying have for last words?
Silence followed.
A long, heavy silence.
Everyone knew Han Yimo had more to say, but time had run out. A life had ended right before their eyes.
Seeing Han Yimo’s lifeless gaze, Qi Xia clutched his head, a splitting pain surging through him.
He doubled over, screaming in agony.
“AH—!!”
Before anyone could process Han Yimo’s death, Qi Xia’s scream shocked them anew.
“Scammer, you okay?” Qiao Jiajin asked cautiously.
After half a minute, Qi Xia steadied his breathing. “I’m fine… Check on Han Yimo first…”
Only after confirming Qi Xia was unharmed did the others turn back to the body, their emotions in turmoil.
One thought circled endlessly in their minds:
Were they really dead?
Could the dead die again?
“Han Yimo… was murdered,” Xiao Ran whispered.
The words “was murdered” snapped them back to reality.
Right—the question wasn’t about death after death. It was about the killer.
Han Yimo had still been conscious when found—meaning the sword had only just struck.
In other words, the killer couldn’t have gone far.
And might still be among the remaining eight.
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage