Giving Interstellar Players a Horror Ghost Game Shock - Chapter 93
Northern Route.
Before Ji Yu and the others from the southern path reached the stone monument.
An Zhi noticed something odd. The in-game comment feed had started acting strange.
Ever since they passed a certain point, the barrage of comments had noticeably dwindled, even though the number of viewers in the livestream had spiked dramatically.
The few remaining messages were mostly complaining that the stream had gotten too dull, demanding something exciting to happen.
Liu Tian, as the main streamer, was clearly getting anxious. He kept interacting with the chat nonstop, trying to stir up engagement.
An Zhi watched this unfold with unease, an ominous feeling growing stronger in her gut.
And right then, Sheng Qingye’s cool hand tapped her on the shoulder.
An Zhi turned slightly, noticing that her teammate’s face had gone a little pale. Sheng Qingye motioned subtly for her to look behind them.
An Zhi cast a quick glance over her shoulder—and immediately tensed. She hadn’t even noticed until now: the young man in the baseball cap, who had been trailing them the whole way… had vanished without a sound!
Seriously? What the hell were these NPCs doing? One after another just ditching them like this?
She cursed silently in her mind and quickly turned back to confirm that Liu Tian was still walking just ahead, right where he had been. Only after confirming that did she finally let out a breath of relief.
Then, without saying another word, she rushed forward and jabbed Liu Tian in the arm.
“Ah! What is it, An jie?” Liu Tian, mid-conversation with his audience, nearly jumped out of his skin when she poked him. He was about to grumble—until he saw it was her and immediately shut up.
An Zhi couldn’t believe how slow on the uptake he was. She lowered her voice and asked,
“Don’t you realize we’re one person short?”
She had originally meant to say who exactly was missing—but only then did she realize: that guy in the cap had never once introduced himself. Not once had he said his name.
Liu Tian looked like he’d been blindsided. His eyes darted between An Zhi and Sheng Qingye, who now wore a visibly tense expression.
“Wait, what? You guys are joking, right…” he began, but then his words stalled. His eyes widened, like he’d just pieced something together.
The very next moment, he threw on an exaggeratedly tense expression—eyes wide, face tight with fake fear.
“A-An jie, what are you saying?” he stammered. “You’re not serious, are you? From the very beginning, it’s always just been the three of us walking the northern path!”
Even though she’d already suspected as much, Sheng Qingye’s heart still lurched at his words. Her SAN level took another hit.
An Zhi frowned, her voice sharp.
“Quit fooling around! Why are you being so weird?”
She realized that Liu Tian seemed to regard what she said as a live broadcast effect, and was deliberately pretending to be frightened to create a terrifying atmosphere.
Liu Tian switched tones instantly and said, a bit aggrieved, “Didn’t you just say to play along? Anyway, we’ve always had just three—wait, no—five people in this group. I’m not making stuff up!”
Ever since the guy in the cap disappeared, the shadows cast by the moonlight and nearby lamps had shown only three long silhouettes on the ground.
But at some point, the lighting had subtly shifted… and five shadows now stretched across the dirt path.
Sheng Qingye tried to stay calm, coaxing gently:
“Think about it carefully. Before we even got to Yin-yang Road, aside from you and Ji Yu, wasn’t there another guy with us? He wore a black cap—I can’t remember his name, but he was definitely there. Remember when you guys were playing ‘Feeding the Spirits’? Didn’t you need an even number of guys and girls to match up—?”
Her expression froze. Her lips tightened into a flat line.
She had just realized something deeply disturbing.
Liu Tian forced a dry laugh.
“You make it sound so convincing. I mean, you’re really committed to the act, huh? But come on… we only have four guys in the club, and none of them wear black caps!”
And just like that, the argument carried on all the way to the stone monument at the end of Yin-Yang Road. No one could convince the other. Now that they’d finally met up with the rest of the club, Liu Tian immediately rushed up, hoping someone could settle this once and for all.
“Ah Yuan! You’ve got to tell An jie—our club really doesn’t have any guy who wears a black cap! I was gonna ask the viewers for help, but the chat’s all over the place. Some say he was there, some say he wasn’t!”
Liu Tian genuinely looked baffled and deeply frustrated, yet the more he thought about it… the more unnerved he became.
“Yeah, exactly! Qingye jie and An jie both said they saw that guy—could it be they ran into something unclean?” said the girl with braids behind Liu Tian, rubbing her arms like she had goosebumps.
“We even wasted time helping them look for him, and in the end, we didn’t even see a shadow,” scoffed a boy with a buzz-cut standing behind An Zhi. He sounded pretty annoyed, and when An Zhi glanced at him for no apparent reason, he glared right back.
“What are you looking at? If it weren’t for you guys wasting time, we would’ve gotten here sooner!”
“…”
An Zhi swallowed the urge to snap back.
She agreed with Sheng Qingye’s earlier assessment—these NPCs might be important, maybe even holding clues for progressing through the game. For now, it was best not to fall out with them.
But ever since the guy in the black cap disappeared, she’d had this nagging feeling that something was off with their five person team. A strange kind of imbalance she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
That thought made her instinctively glance toward Ji Yu’s team of four across the way… only to realize—
It wasn’t just her team. That other team felt weird too.
The discomfort gnawed at her nerves, scraping at her mind with something unspeakably uncanny, and yet she couldn’t figure out why.
Maybe she was staring for too long, because the buzz-cut guy standing next to Ji Yu started to look uneasy, his face going pale.
“An jie, why are you staring at us like that…?” he whispered like a mosquito.
Ah Yuan chimed in too, trying to lighten the mood.
“Yeah, An jie, he’s already super timid—you’re scaring everyone here.”
Ji Yu glanced at the buzz-cut NPC he had no memory of and suddenly felt excited as if he had found a timid partner.
He’d always known—anyone would shrink under An Zhi jie’s pressure. Finally, even the NPCs were on his side!
Although, weirdly enough, he couldn’t remember this NPC’s name… or ever seeing him before. But never mind—from now on, this NPC? He’s under Ji Yu’s protection.
Meanwhile, Zhang Wen had been oddly quiet for a while. Her face looked pale, though no one could tell if she was feeling sick or just spooked.
After a brief pause, she asked in a low voice,
“An jie, why are you so sure there’s someone missing? Did something feel… off?”
Before An Zhi could answer, the buzz-cut guy butted in, voice full of mockery.
“She told us if the guy in the cap didn’t exist, then we wouldn’t have had the right number of people to play ‘Feeding the Spirits’—ridiculous. I think she’s not thinking straight!”
The girl with braids blinked her dark eyes thoughtfully, and a trace of concern flickered across her face.
“Maybe An jie just remembered wrong… There’s no one missing. We had four guys and four girls when we played earlier, and Qingye jie stood aside and didn’t join in… So the numbers totally check out.”
“We’ve… only had nine people from the start.”
Listening to the two of them back-to-back, An Zhi was struck speechless.
She still felt something was wrong—but couldn’t find a single point to argue against.
Sheng Qingye didn’t get the chance to speak up. Her brows furrowed deep in thought, clearly piecing something together.
“Okay, okay, let’s not push this further,” Ah Yuan cut in brightly, sensing the mood turning.
“An jie’s probably just exhausted. Once this livestream mission is over, you should go home and get some rest.”
She then clapped her hands together and switched the subject with practiced ease.
“It’s only a little past 11. Still early! Why not take advantage of this perfect spooky night and play a few more supernatural games?”
“As before, we’ll split up the streams. My dorm just happens to be in West Building 13, so girls—come with me! Let’s play the most famous spirit-summoning game on our campus—Pen Fairy!”
The moment she said that, the system triggered a new quest.
Congratulations, players! You’ve triggered the third forbidden game: Pen Fairy.
Current storyline progress: 1/3 (The Divide Paths of Yin-Yang Road — Incomplete. Progress Locked.)
You’ve unlocked 10% exploration of Wenhe University! Keep exploring the eerie campus at night to unlock more progress!
📝 PS: Exploration rate affects ending outcomes, NPC safety, and player safety. Please pay attention!
⚠️ PPS: Low exploration rates may trigger bad endings — but the strong may defy fate.
T/L Notes:
Dear Readers,
I sincerely apologize for the recent lack of updates. Lately, I’ve been overwhelmed with academic requirements and research papers—an experience I know many fellow graduate students can relate to. I had initially hoped that the summer term would be a bit more relaxed, but unfortunately, it has turned out to be even more demanding than expected.
Because of this, I haven’t been able to update my novels as frequently as I would like. I truly feel sorry, especially to those who have been patiently and continuously supporting my work. Your support means the world to me, and it pains me not to be able to keep up with your expectations.
Please know that I deeply value the quality of my writing, and I don’t want to publish rushed chapters that might compromise the stories you’ve come to love. That’s why I’ve decided to temporarily put most of my translation novels on hold until the end of my summer term on July 25.
Additionally, for the next three weeks, I will be away on fieldwork in a remote area with no access to electricity or Wi-Fi, so I won’t be able to post updates during that period either.
For this week, I will update three chapters of Interstellar, but the rest of my novels will resume once my academic responsibilities are completed.
Thank you so much for your patience, understanding, and continued support.