Chapter Seven: Yet Another Dilemma

After a long silence, Chen Chen finally spoke. “So, all fear comes from a lack of firepower…”

I forced a wry smile, awkwardly replying, “Have you ever considered that we might die here tonight?”

I stubbed out my cigarette and lit another. “Maybe that shadow saved our lives, but if we could really escape this damned game, what would dying even matter?”

I was momentarily stunned. Who would have thought such a loaded, meaningful sentence would come from an eighteen-year-old kid?

“Yeah, I suppose that’s what it means to say that living is worse than dying…”

We both exchanged a smile, a silent understanding passing between brothers, drawing us closer. It wasn’t until nearly nine o’clock that we helped each other down the mountain.

I shared a cab home with Chen Chen, dropping him off first. Staring out at the city’s endless nightlife, an inexplicable irritation gnawed at me.

Exhausted, I stumbled into my apartment, collapsed onto the sofa, switched on the television out of habit, and cooked a packet of instant noodles, eating with relish.

Suddenly, a nagging sense that I’d forgotten something important crept up on me. I smacked my forehead and muttered, “The forum… the forum…”

I set aside my bowl and chopsticks, hurried into my room, and booted up my computer.

To my surprise, luck seemed to favor me this time—the forum admin had actually replied to my private message.

“Come find me. Building 7, Xinghai New City.”

Just that simple line reignited the hope within me, and I couldn’t help but think, “Whatever so-called Ghost King there is, I’ll get to the bottom of it…”

This message was like a long-awaited rain in a drought—comforting, exhilarating, and thrilling all at once.

That night, I finally slept soundly for the first time in ages.

The next morning, I woke up early, probably too excited to sleep in. It felt as if a warm current was surging through my body, giving me newfound strength.

I lit a cigarette, considering whether to message Chen Chen and ask him to come along. But recalling how terrified he’d been the night before, I decided I couldn’t drag him into danger again.

Just as I set my phone down, my eyes fell on the white stick I’d tossed aside. Suddenly, my curiosity was piqued.

This was the very stick that had tripped me up yesterday. I’d brought it home simply because it looked intriguing, but at a closer look now, it seemed anything but ordinary.

It was thirty centimeters long—white with crimson patterns, streaked with delicate designs. The main motif was a majestic phoenix, regal and fierce, gazing into the distance. Inside the stick, some kind of liquid shimmered, flowing like water.

I didn’t have time to admire it further—there were more important things to do. A glance at the clock: seven thirty already…

There was no time to lose. I tidied myself up, changed clothes, fastened the small knife Chen Chen had given me at my waist, and headed out, satisfied, catching a cab to Xinghai New City.

Xinghai New City was an enclave of luxury villas, home to the city’s wealthy elite.

“Could the forum admin really be a millionaire…?” I wondered.

The taxi sped through the city. Soon, I arrived at the grand gates of Xinghai New City, right in the city center.

I smoothed my hair, dusted my clothes, took a deep breath, and strode inside.

The place was as lavish as rumored—countless recreational facilities, a swimming pool, a zoo, a golf course…

Building 7 was easy to find, nestled among the front row of villas.

I circled the villa once—it looked lifeless, but otherwise no different from its neighbors.

I pressed the doorbell, waiting anxiously for someone to answer.

After a while, no one came, not even the faintest sound from within. I was about to press again when a voice drifted from the yard: “Come in, the door’s not locked.”

Looking closely, I saw the door was indeed ajar, a small gap left open.

I gently pushed it open and followed the direction of the voice.

Sitting on a stone bench in the garden was an elderly man, his back to me, serenely sipping tea. I’d expected someone young, or at least a middle-aged man—not this.

“Come, sit.”

The abrupt invitation startled me; I nearly reached for my knife.

I hurried over, studying the old man as I walked.

He was dressed in a traditional robe, his long white beard rivaling that of a legendary warrior.

I sat facing him, momentarily speechless, unsure what to say.

At last, the old man broke the silence.

“Do you know about the Ghost King?”

“Yes, yes, I’d like to learn…” I began, about to mention the horror game, but the memory of my classmates’ deaths made my heart shudder.

Just then, my phone vibrated. I glanced at the old man—seeing no reaction, I quietly checked my phone.

“Let me remind you again: Tell no one about the game!”

A chill ran down my spine. Was the Ghost King watching me, aware of my every move? Or was it just coincidence?

“Don’t worry. No one followed you, and nothing else came along,” the old man said, setting down his cup and fixing me with a sharp gaze.

I stared back calmly, undaunted, saying nothing.

“Good, young man. You have courage and backbone!” His stern eyes softened, and I could even detect a hint of pride in his expression.

“Grandpa, can you tell me about the Ghost King now?”

He laughed heartily. “Ha ha ha! I’m not long for this world—what harm is there in telling you?”

His manner was reminiscent of an ancient master from martial arts legends.

He continued, “The Ghost King, as the name suggests, is the ruler of the Ghost Realm. Ghosts and humans are mortal enemies…” His voice grew angry as he spoke, as if he wished to tear the Ghost King apart with his own hands. For a moment, a powerful aura swept over me—this old man was clearly no ordinary person.

After a moment of quiet sorrow, he went on, “Every thousand years, the Ghost Realm chooses a new Ghost King…”

I was hanging on his every word, when suddenly he fell silent and sipped his tea.

I was desperate—“Please, sir, you have to keep going—”

The old man burst out laughing again.

“You, boy, are just like him…”

I was left bewildered, not understanding whom he meant.

Looking at him again, I realized his figure was growing faint, as if he might dissipate into thin air at any moment.

“Don’t be surprised. I died five hundred years ago. This is but a remnant of my soul…”

Before I could ask more, he fixed me with a complicated look.

“Child, the future rests with you…”

With that, his form vanished completely on the wind, leaving only the half-finished cup of tea as proof he’d ever been there at all.