Giving Interstellar Players a Horror Ghost Game Shock - Chapter 92
Seeing how excited the guy in the baseball cap was, already dreaming about his grand future as a star ghost-hunting streamer, An Zhi didn’t quite have the heart to burst his bubble.
But if she let him go on rambling, they’d completely lose sight of Liu Tian. And in a game like this, once an NPC steps out of your field of view, there’s no guarantee they’ll still be the same person when you see them again.
So, after three seconds of polite patience, An Zhi shoved the cap-wearing guy aside and pulled Sheng Qingye along to catch up.
As she moved, she sighed helplessly, “Do you people always have to tempt fate on purpose? And when exactly did you even talk to Liu Tian? I didn’t hear a thing. Don’t tell me he’s been walking this fast on purpose just to leave us behind and boost the livestream drama?”
The guy didn’t seem offended at all by her shove. He picked up the pace and followed after them, murmuring to himself in confusion,
“Now that you mention it… why did Liu Tian only tell me about it? Huh, oh well—must’ve thought I was the most trustworthy one.”
Sheng Qingye lifted her head sharply and silently committed that line to memory.
The group quickly caught up to Liu Tian, unaware that behind them, in the shadows cast by the rows of locust trees, something ghastly had briefly appeared: densely hanging bloodied corpses, swaying on the branches.
A few of them gave a twitch, then thud!—dropped from the trees, vanishing the next second as if they were never there.
Viewers, already too terrified to even type comments, felt their hearts leap into their throats. Only when nothing happened for a while did they slowly start breathing again and then, cautiously, the chat began to stir back to life:
【Aaaah so many corpses so many corpses!! Are they all waiting for the players to join their dead man’s party?? 😱】
【I nearly passed out just now… Thank goodness they didn’t actually go along with it. At least someone here still has a working brain.】
【Seriously, what kind of person agrees to a shady idea like that in a place like this? Splitting off from the group with a creepy NPC?? Are you TRYING to die?!】
【Sure, Liu Tian’s alone now and looks like the most at risk, but hey—he’s got millions of viewers connected through his phone. If you count digital souls, he’s got a whole army on his side! Way safer than going ghost-hunting with Hat Guy!】
Unspoken but crystal clear. These comments were aimed at the streamers who had agreed to the “split-up for drama” idea.
In every run of the game, players entering the northern path would initially follow Liu Tian and the guy in the baseball cap. And then, almost like clockwork, the cap-wearing NPC would suggest “creating some livestream tension.”
Most players immediately turned him down—because, well, you’d have to be a fool to split up in a cursed game.
Unfortunately, some fools did think there was some secret event or hidden reward involved… and agreed.
The result? The moment they followed the guy in the baseball cap into the woods, they never came back.
“AAAAHH—!” The bloodcurdling screams of those players echoed in the livestreams as horrified spectators watched on.
【Too tragic…】
One by one, viewers bailed out of those now-terminated streams at lightning speed, switching to other players or, better yet, to the southern route.
Which was when they noticed something strange.
【Wait a minute. Northern path is a bloodbath, but the southern path… is weirdly calm??】
The stream featuring An Zhi, Sheng Qingye, and Ji Yu continued.
In the southern path.
Right now, Ji Yu had shamelessly wedged himself between the two female NPCs, completely ignoring their exasperated looks. He absolutely refused to bring up the rear.
Ever since entering this horror game, his imagination had been working overtime.
Just now, seeing the two women streaming ahead of him while he lagged behind, he vividly pictured a scenario: he’d look up, and they’d both be gone, dragged away by ghosts without a sound.
No way. No way in hell was he going out like that.
He’d never accept a Game Over screen with that kind of ending.
Of course, Ji Yu couldn’t see the barrage of comments flying through the live chat. He had no idea just how many creepy, twisted things were unfolding on the northern path, hidden beneath a veneer of calm.
But if he were to be completely honest, nothing particularly terrifying had happened on his side so far.
Sure, the wind had picked up a bit, and the background audio had gotten a little spooky, but overall, it had been a pretty smooth walk.
That was, until they crossed a certain point—like triggering some kind of hidden mechanism. In an instant, the entire road changed.
The already stunted locust trees suddenly bent their branches even lower, as if weighed down by something heavy and ominous, like fruit rotting on the vine.
The moon, which had been casting a gentle, silvery glow, turned dim and hazy all at once, forcing them to rely entirely on the beam of their handheld flashlights.
But what sent chills straight down the spine was the change in the ambient sound. The eerie background noise warped into something even more grotesque, like the soundtrack itself had shifted into a new, darker movement.
Startled by the abrupt shift, Ji Yu flinched hard, involuntarily slowing his pace… and promptly fell behind the fast-moving NPCs. He had to jog just to catch up.
“Why are you walking so fast?! Wait for me! And—look around you! The trees are getting really weird!”
Zhang Wen, the ponytailed NPC, turned around and kindly reached out to pull him forward. Then, following his gaze to the surroundings, her expression wavered.
“You’re right… it didn’t look like this earlier, did it?”
“What are you two talking about?” Ah Yuan piped up cheerfully. “You’re imagining things! You can’t expect all trees to grow the same way, right? Maybe these ones are just more malnourished or something.”
She was as optimistic and as stubborn as ever, completely unfazed.
“Come on, pick up the pace! We’ve got to beat Ah Tian’s team to the finish line!”
Zhang Wen frowned.
“That reminds me, didn’t you say earlier that winners have to treat everyone to a late-night snack? So why are we rushing over? If the winner ends up paying, what’s the point?”
Ah Yuan gave a crafty wink. “I said that on purpose. Think about it, they’re probably thinking the same thing and intentionally dragging their feet. So we’ll get there first. And when we win, I’ll just say I misspoke earlier. Boom! They buy us supper. I’m a genius, aren’t I? Hahaha!”
“…”
Even in the middle of a horror game, Ji Yu couldn’t help but stare at her, a thick line of black speechlessness hanging over his head.
If Sheng Qingye ever found out that the riddle she had been pondering so seriously this whole time was just this, she’d probably go into shock on the spot.
As expected, the group reached the stone monument first.
The stone marking the outer edge of the “finish line” looked like a jagged chunk of natural rock, rough-edged and unpolished. Carved into its face were three bl00d-red characters that seemed to bleed under the moonlight:
Yin-Yang Road.
Ji Yu finally exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
He’d braced himself for something awful to happen on the road here. But in the end, it was surprisingly smooth. Even the darkening surroundings had become tolerable once his eyes adjusted.
Two minutes passed as they waited at the stone. Viewers in both the game and livestream chat were starting to get a bit antsy.
Then, at last, shadows flickered into view down the northern path.
Ji Yu immediately became excited as he was finally going to meet up with his teammates.
But as the figures drew closer, his excitement faded into confusion.
Wait… that headcount doesn’t look right.
At that moment, the group approaching from the opposite side broke into a run. They must have seen them too.
Before Ji Yu could process it all, Liu Tian’s anxious voice shouted out:
“What do we do, Ah Yuan?! Sister An has gone crazy. She keeps insisting we’re missing someone!”