The No. 1 Hunfen King in the Entire Server [Interstellar] Chapter 6

“Calm down, calm down.”

Liu Cheng held back the furious Feng Haozhong, who was ready to charge at Lin Jing.

Blondie, now able to sleep alone at night, groggily dragged himself out. “What’s happening now?”

With all the noise, the village chief woke up as well. His usual expression, as though everyone owed him millions, looked even more sour as he descended from the second floor, ignoring the group gathered in the ancestral hall.

He opened the door.

Outside stood a young man in his twenties. The moment he saw the village chief, he collapsed to his knees, sobbing incoherently. “Village chief, I was wrong! I shouldn’t have disobeyed you. I was wrong! My father… he’s gone mad. He’s truly gone mad!”

Everyone moved closer to see.

The young man held a rope, and at the end of it crouched an old man. His hands were bound, and his mouth was taped shut. He wore a filthy, darkened garment that hadn’t been washed in who-knows-how-long. Disheveled and wild-haired, his cloudy eyes were filled with resentment and numbness as he glared at them.

The young man was trembling with fear, muttering incessantly as he handed the rope to the village chief. His lips quivered as he spoke. “He disappeared during the day. I thought he was trying to escape down the mountain again. But he was hiding under my bed all along. In the middle of the night, he tiptoed onto my bed and tried to strangle me. When I opened my eyes, his face was right there.”

The young man, filled with regret, choked out, “I’ve brought him here. I was wrong, village chief. I was wrong.”

The village chief’s face remained cold as he took the rope, ignoring the young man’s cries of remorse. He only barked, “Get lost!”

The young man fled without hesitation, scrambling away in terror.

Now, all eyes were on the old man.

Crouching on the ground like an animal, he exuded an indescribable eeriness.

The village chief approached him and tore off the tape covering his mouth.

“Cough, cough—” The old man, having been silenced for so long, coughed violently as if he might hack up his lungs. His hoarse, broken voice clawed at everyone’s nerves. “Ungrateful son… ungrateful son…!” His fingers trembled with rage, his expression oscillating between numb resentment and uncontrollable fury. His voice cracked like brittle paper, alternating between deathly stillness and fiery anger. “Ungrateful son… cough, cough… beast!”

The village chief impatiently interrupted, “Now that you’re here, behave.”

The old man seemed to realize something. His wrinkled, aged face turned ashen with despair. His eyes glazed over as he muttered, almost deliriously, “I’m not dead. I’m not dead. I’m really not dead…”

The village chief scratched his ear, then looped the rope around the old man’s neck several times. Like he was walking a dog, he dragged the man upstairs to the second floor.

The onlookers were stunned. The two girls clutched each other’s hands tightly, their faces pale.

The village chief cast a mocking, warning glance at them. His murky eyes seemed to sneer. “Go back to sleep. You’ve got five days left.”

Five days. It felt like a death sentence ticking down.

The group remained silent.

Downstairs, Lin Jing spoke nonchalantly. “I think I’ve figured out what the village chief is hiding on the second floor.”

Blondie, still in shock, murmured, “The second floor is full of people.”

Lin Jing glanced back at him, a thought suddenly coming to mind—about the scarred man in charge. Maybe there really were eight men.

The next day, the village chief didn’t come downstairs all day.

As planned, the group decided to explore the forest on the western slope.

Having been there before, Feng Haozhong warned, “The fog gets really thick. We might get lost, so let’s make markers along the way.”

Liu Cheng nodded in agreement. “Yeah, and we should stick together.”

The group discussed what to use as markers as they walked.

The outer edges of the forest were filled with regular trees, but deeper in, the trunks grew massive, their diameters swelling from several dozen centimeters to over a meter. They blocked out the sky, and their roots, covered in moss, twisted above the ground like giant veins. Rotting wood and mushrooms littered the ground, teeming with ants and pale worms.

The light dimmed, and a faint mist began to rise.

Lin Jing, bringing up the rear, walked leisurely alongside Xu Wanzhi.

“Xu Wanzhi.” For the first time, he called his name seriously.

“Hmm?” Xu Wanzhi responded softly. The dim green light of the forest and the creeping fog reflected off his black clothes, lending him an air that eerily harmonized with the sinister beauty of the surroundings.

Lin Jing felt a flicker of doubt but masked it with a casual tone. “Are you here in the game involuntarily, like me?”

Xu Wanzhi replied calmly, “You could say that.”

Lin Jing smirked. “That explains it. You don’t seem too concerned about winning or losing.”

“Winning or losing?” Xu Wanzhi echoed the words softly, a faint, mocking smile tugging at his lips before fading. He fingered the beads on his wrist and, with an indifferent but serious gaze, asked Lin Jing, “Do you want to win?”

Of course.

Lin Jing was honest. “Yeah, I’ve had some rotten luck in real life. I need to win a hundred matches in a row.”

He hadn’t checked the leaderboard when he entered the game, but he figured he’d need at least 2,000 points to make it into the top ten.

He continued, “You’re not trying to win? Then why did you join the game?”

Xu Wanzhi’s tone was flat. “To watch.”

Lin Jing: “What?”

Xu Wanzhi chuckled faintly. “To experience the game.”

As the country’s most popular game and a fair evaluation mechanism, The Immortals attracted players either to improve their mental strength or, like Xu Wanzhi, purely for entertainment.

It seemed Xu Wanzhi fell into the latter category.

Feng Haozhong was right—the deeper they went, the thicker the fog grew.

The temperature dropped as well. The white mist thickened, becoming almost tangible.

The group walked deeper into the forest, their fear mounting with every step, and held their breath in silence.

In the unnerving stillness, the faint sounds of rustling could be heard—like venomous snakes flicking their tongues or the slow crawl of insects over dry branches.

At first, Blondie was happily chatting with two girls. But as the atmosphere turned eerie, he quickly remembered how much he relied on his Brother Lin.

“Brother Lin,” he called out hesitantly, his courage waning in the dense fog that obscured all visibility.

“I’m here,” Lin Jing responded from just ahead.

Hearing his voice, Blondie sighed in relief. For some reason, despite Lin Jing’s seemingly unreliable demeanor, being near him brought a sense of security.

Suddenly, the world fell eerily silent.

Blondie moved forward and vaguely saw a figure in the fog. It resembled Lin Jing, who seemed to be turning his head and speaking softly to someone, his profile gentle and smiling.

“Brother Lin!” Blondie called out in delight, rushing forward to pat Lin Jing on the shoulder. But the moment he touched him, he froze. Instead of the familiar feel of fabric, his hand met something rough and cracked—like tree bark.

The silence around him was oppressive, and the fog felt suffocating, blinding him in a sea of white. When Blondie came to his senses, he realized he was standing in front of a tree. His hand was pressed against its surface, and to his horror, it seemed stuck.

A faint giggle echoed through the forest—childish, ethereal, and haunting. Something cold and wet dropped onto his head.

Blondie looked up and nearly fainted from fright.

A skinned infant, barely half a year old, clung to the tree above him. Its bloodied flesh was encased in a thin, translucent membrane, and its mouth was filled with rows of sharp teeth. Drool dripped from its open maw as it slowly crawled down the tree toward him.

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