Giving Interstellar Players a Horror Ghost Game Shock - Chapter 76

An Zhi was feeling a little tortured.

She had so much to complain about—but no one around to hear it.

She stared blankly at the screen of the camera in her hands, eyes unfocused, lost in thought.

Then suddenly, a comment floated across the screen.

[Poor Sister An, left all alone by the others (つ﹏<) ]

…Huh? What’s going on? How could she see comments through this thing?

Curious, An Zhi leaned in closer and finally confirmed it—besides the selfie sticks and phones the four NPCs were using, this device was also connected to a livestream room. The screen was a bit smaller, but it could show comments.

So they had opened two streams under the same club name—probably in case they needed to split up later.

Most of the viewers had obviously run off to watch the spirit game with the NPCs, so this stream only had a few chatters casually talking with her.

An Zhi found it surprisingly interesting. The AIs she used to deal with were always stiff and robotic. She never imagined entertainment AIs had gotten so advanced.

She could say anything—so long as it stayed within the game’s setting—and the responses would come back just like she was chatting with real people.

Meanwhile, on the other side, the two boys and two girls had already poured the chicken bl00d onto the bowl of rice and were circling around it, chanting.

It didn’t take long before the bl00d began to overflow, seeping from the rim of the bowl and dripping onto the ground.

Zhang Wen’s eyes went wide, and her voice trembled—whether from excitement or fear was unclear. “Look! It’s really overflowing!”

The chat went wild, the comment feed exploding like the viewers were right there with them, witnessing the legendary arrival of a ghost.

Ah Yuan acted scared on the surface, but inwardly she was quite pleased with herself.

Of course the bl00d would spill out—it was only natural. She had filled the bowl almost to the brim and poured on a ton of liquid. The rice was bound to expand. Not just bl00d—even rice could’ve spilled over.

But she kept those thoughts to herself. After all, wasn’t their club’s whole gimmick to make money by pretending to be spooky?

Ah Yuan, as the president of the Paranormal Research Club, naturally took the lead when it came time to ask the ghost a question.

She thought for a moment, then deliberately lowered her voice and asked something eerie:

“Dear spirit… during our exploration of the Yin-Yang Road… will something happen to one of us?”

There was no response.

But that was fine. When she had crouched down earlier to place the paper, she had subtly signaled Liu Tian to move the camera away so it wouldn’t catch her hands. She’d quickly slipped on gloves and used chicken bl00d to draw a circle on the paper—just enough to make it look legit.

What she didn’t see was that behind her, at some unknown point… a pair of bare feet had silently appeared.

—

On the other side—

After chatting with the comments for a bit, the feed quieted down again. Maybe the viewers had walked away from their screens?

Just then, An Zhi heard Ah Yuan’s voice asking the ghost a question. She let out a sigh of relief—finally, it was almost over. She was bored to death waiting alone.

But a few seconds after Ah Yuan finished speaking, she heard her voice again—light and soft, but strangely close:

“It’s over now. Come on over.”

An Zhi was just about to turn around when a golden comment floated across her screen:

[Don’t turn around!]

Her movements froze.

Behind her, that voice sighed softly, then said in a hushed, coaxing tone, “An Zhi… come on… we’re all waiting for you…”

An Zhi twitched. At this point, she felt completely stuck.

Why didn’t the chat warn her sooner? She was already halfway turned! Now she was stuck mid-turn—should she finish the motion or not?

Then again… wasn’t she here exactly to experience thrills like this?

With that thought, she made up her mind—and turned around.

—

Behind the four players, a little girl in tattered clothes was squatting by the white paper.

She was too far away to make out clearly.

The girl tilted her head, as if thinking about something, then—under An Zhi’s horrified gaze—calmly broke her own index finger.

Thick, black bl00d oozed out, and she began to write on the white paper with it like it was nothing.

Suddenly, as if she sensed something, a thin red line appeared along her neck—and her head rotated a perfect 90 degrees to stare straight at An Zhi.

An Zhi’s scalp prickled at the sight of the snapped finger. She instinctively held her breath, locking eyes with the girl without looking away.

It was her habit—when facing a strong enemy, she would always meet their gaze. Looking away felt like admitting defeat.

The girl suddenly smiled. Then she raised her other, unbroken finger—and pointed… at An Zhi’s head?

An Zhi felt a strange tickle on her scalp.

It felt like something was dangling above her… gently brushing against the top of her head.

She swallowed hard, and slowly—very slowly—tilted her head upward…