“Huff… huff huff…”
Granny Li limped along, her wobbling shadow dancing behind her under the pale streetlight.
“Huff…”
Exhausted, she stopped to catch her breath—but suddenly fell silent, staring dead-on at the ground.
Her hunched shadow was still moving. It wobbled and twisted, as if transforming into a strange shape, and then darted toward the unlit darkness beside her.
…What the h*ll!?
Her shadow… ran away!
Granny Li nearly fainted. She stood in the white circle of light, watching in terror as the edge of the lit area distorted and rippled.
Then, like a tide, the shadows rolled back, retreating behind her!
Startled, she stumbled backward. One foot barely lifted before the other scrambled to follow. In her desperate attempt to escape the writhing shadows, she nearly danced a frantic tango in place.
In the chaos, she fell to the ground. When she looked up, she saw something beyond her wildest nightmares—
The shadows on the ground surged toward a bus parked under a streetlight. They swallowed the halo of light and formed a gigantic hand, reaching for the tiny bus.
Granny Li’s mouth fell open. She dumbly looked up along the shadowy hand and saw an even larger, oppressive black figure stretching across the sky.
…Oh Lord, what is that?!
She couldn’t see its full form. Even though she had run hundreds of meters away, she was still far too close.
Granny Li often saw ants while sweeping. They never feared her shoes or broom. Her book-smart grandson once told her that ants couldn’t perceive humans. He gave some complicated scientific explanation she didn’t understand—and didn’t believe.
How could something not notice a giant like her?
But now, she understood.
If the ground-level shadow was a flat sheet of black paper, then the towering figure was like folding that paper upward—and she was the ant that had climbed onto the paper by accident.
Her body trembled uncontrollably. Her old eyes watched in horror as the giant hand picked up the bus like a toy, lifting it into the air. Its fingers curled inward. The bus looked flimsier than a paper model.
Screams erupted from inside.
“Run!!” That strange young man’s voice rang out in her head again.
Startled, Granny Li scrambled to her feet and ran.
…
As the bus was lifted into the air, some players who hadn’t braced themselves were thrown to the floor.
The terrifying sound of metal tearing rang out. Handles dropped one after another. Heavy glass shattered. A player near the door was thrown across the bus as the door buckled inward.
“Ahhh the floating sensation! I’m flying!”
“Holy cr*p, it’s like a roller coaster!”
“So that’s why Quest 2 suddenly dropped to E difficulty? Smash this d*mn bus!!”
“…”
Some players found the fire hammer on the bus and began smashing things madly. Some players found the fire extinguisher and bashed the bus with a loud bang bang. One player held the dead driver’s head and used the skull to attack, while another player, unable to find a suitable weapon, just used their fists, head, and teeth to keep attacking the bus…
The bus’s ground clearance kept increasing, while the space inside was being compressed more and more. The overwhelming sense of pressure and the chaotic noise swept through the entire area, affecting almost everyone around—
Except for Tang Yu, who sat motionless in his seat.
She Qulin grabbed the hanging strap and stepped toward this NPC one step at a time. The darkness made it a bit difficult to see, but it wasn’t a real obstacle. Tang Yu’s panel above his head shone like a firefly in the dark—especially conspicuous.
Staring at that panel, She Qulin couldn’t help but think—why would such a vase-like NPC be the target of protection in a newbie quest?
Besides charm value, did he have anything else special?
She Qulin swept a glance around Tang Yu. From the panel, he saw that Yan Lang was guarding right at his side.
This player who had smashed the window with his bare hands the moment he got on board had left a deep impression on She Qulin. Someone like that should be least able to resist the chaotic melee atmosphere right now.
“Yan Lang, let’s take turns guarding him,” She Qulin said. As expected, as soon as the words left his mouth, Yan Lang gave up his seat next to Tang Yu.
She Qulin sat down in the dark. In his right ear he caught the faint rustle of fabric—this NPC named Tang Yu seemed to shrink back into the corner a couple times.
From the moment he got on the bus, She Qulin had noticed these little gestures of the NPC. It was probably the game company’s design: an NPC’s subtle reaction after being stared at too long by a player. Very detailed.
“Hello, my name is She Qulin.” The cold, precise voice rang out, each word distinct. Even amid the rowdy clamor of the surrounding players, this voice carried a presence that couldn’t be ignored.
Tang Yu remembered who this voice belonged to.
It was the player who had discovered the driver was dead.
He hadn’t dared look directly at these players before, but since the darkness enveloped everything and no one could really see each other, Tang Yu mustered up some courage to raise his eyes and glance at this player’s panel.
Player: She Qulin
【Intelligence】: 9
【Constitution】: 5
【Agility】: 5
【Strength】: 5
【Luck】: 6
【Charm】: 8
One glance was enough—Tang Yu quickly withdrew his gaze, lips pressed tightly shut.
This man was too intelligent, too clever. Tang Yu’s years of experience told him: when faced with those smart people who approached him for no clear reason, it was best to play deaf and dumb.
“Don’t be nervous. We’ll protect your safety.” She Qulin continued, “Can you tell me your name?”
…This player was role-playing, immersing himself fully.
And yet, for some reason, compared to the rowdy, reckless players who loudly called him an NPC, Tang Yu was even more afraid of She Qulin. It was like—like the instinctive fear humans have toward something that looks human but isn’t.
“You seem to know that cleaner from earlier, don’t you?” She Qulin switched topics.
Tang Yu’s breath almost stopped. He felt like a failing student suddenly called on by the teacher. His eyes flicked restlessly, sweeping past the chaotic panels of the other players, landing once again on the blinking red light of the bus surveillance camera.
Shen Junxing.
Blue eyes both frightened and pleading, Tang Yu felt the darkness swell and engulf him like a tide.
Impenetrable darkness.
All-pervading darkness.
Darkness that shut out the surrounding players.
She Qulin’s voice fell silent. Tang Yu didn’t know what Shen Junxing had done, but at last he no longer had to hear that player’s probing, deliberate questions. Only…
Staring at the flickering red light on the camera, countless images of himself trapped in surveillance footage surged up in his mind.
Tang Yu unconsciously bit down on his lip.
In the darkness, it was as if a hand slid gently up his neck, brushing past his bobbing Adam’s apple, slipping beneath his mask. The base of the palm pressed against the tip of his chin, fingertips cupping his cheeks and squeezing lightly—
The mask bulged with the sharp contour of fingers beneath.
Tang Yu’s clenched jaw was pried open easily, a faint sound escaping his lips.
The black phone screen suddenly lit up. A message from Shen Junxing. Even though it was just text, Tang Yu could hear in his mind that low, gentle voice, laced with helplessness: “Bad habit.”
In the pitch-darkness, that sliver of light was blinding.
Shen Junxing.
The ever-present Shen Junxing.
The Shen Junxing who always took care of him.
The Shen Junxing he might never have truly known.
Tang Yu clutched his phone tightly, his whole body trembling, even his soul seemed to shiver.
Drip.
A tear fell onto the screen.
Amid the players’ wails and shrieks, a chill seeped silently through the entire bus carriage. It was clearly summer, yet Tang Yu felt as if he were in the dead of winter, submerged in thick darkness. His other senses magnified endlessly.
Holding his breath, a metallic stench pierced through his mask and invaded his nose.
Drip.
His ear twitched. Tang Yu forced himself to ignore the players’ noise and focus on that dripping sound. It was liquid falling—but unlike water, it had a thicker, stickier texture.
The dim bus lights suddenly flickered on. Tang Yu instinctively squinted. By their faint bluish glow, he saw countless streams of red liquid seeping through the cracks in the windows, dripping from the swaying handrails, oozing down the torn metal walls—forming lines long and short, like blood flowing from wounds on the bus.
But that wasn’t the most terrifying part.
Tang Yu’s eyes widened. Every seat in sight was filled with passengers.
A dark back of the head loomed in front of him—more than eight of them already. And these heads carried no player panels.
He turned—and saw a pair of withered hands clutching She Qulin’s throat.
The dying She Qulin twisted his face toward Tang Yu, forcing out a frail question from his throat: “This… was it… you…?”
The next second, She Qulin vanished into air, gone from the bus.
The withered hands fell to their knees. On the seat beside Tang Yu sat a mummified corpse-passenger.
The dim light blinked out. Darkness reclaimed the carriage. Cold sweat drenched Tang Yu just as he heard players’ wild shouts:
“Eat my fire axe!”
“One bite—crunchy!”
“Ahhh don’t come closer, I’ll kill you ahhh!”
“F*ck, which dumb*ss hit me?! No friendly fire in this game?!”
“…”
The lights flickered back on. The corpse beside Tang Yu opened its mouth wide, twisted its face, and lunged at him—
Tang Yu had no time to dodge. He stared, wide-eyed, as the corpse’s skull split apart right before him.
A fire axe quivered where it had smashed the head to pieces.
If he hadn’t seen it himself, Tang Yu wouldn’t have believed such a simple axe could so easily crush a skull.
“She Qulin! Where the f*ck did you go?!” Yan Lang’s voice stopped mid-curse. Then, a sharp intake of breath.
【Congratulations, player Yan Lang has successfully awakened ability: Weak Point Analysis. You have a chance to analyze weaknesses of a target. The larger the level gap, the lower the success rate.】
【You used Weak Point Analysis on the corpse-passenger’s head. You successfully found its weak spot.】
Tang Yu froze as Yan Lang swung the fire axe, smashing the surging corpse-passengers like watermelons.
“Sorry, just got revived.” She Qulin reappeared before Tang Yu’s incredulous eyes. To Yan Lang, he said: “I found that the ghost-passengers only attack when the bus lights are on.”
At that, Yan Lang lifted his gaze. When his eyes fell on the lights, in an instant they turned cold and fathomless, utterly unlike before.
The next second, Yan Lang raised the axe high: “This bus weakens in the dark! Smash the lights!”
The players cheered in reply. Like kids on Halloween wreaking havoc, they joyfully began smashing everything inside.
That struck the bus’s lifeline. Countless corpse-passengers swarmed forward to drag the players away from the lights. A brutal brawl erupted—you die, I live, I die, I revive.
Darkness and dim light alternated. Tang Yu curled up in the corner, blue eyes wide open, watching what should have been a terrifying scene turn grotesque under the players’ presence—a stage play.
The bus’s veins spewed blood like red carpet unfurling across the stage.
Corpse-passengers fell one by one, dismantled like props.
The players, chatting madly, treated life and death lightly, charging recklessly, reviving endlessly, awakening new powers—they were the undisputed protagonists.
And him?
What was he?
When the last light shattered, when the last corpse fell, the bus looked like a wreck from a fatal crash, teetering on the brink.
The bus swayed and slowly dropped from midair. As it finally landed, Tang Yu felt himself land too—like sediment settling in a violently shaken bottle of suspension, left to rest in the dark.
And in that stillness, an answer sank down.
He thought—I’m the audience. I’m just an NPC.
