Chapter Content
The weighty flesh takes a leap, while the soaring soul plummets to earth.
—Volume I: Spirit and Flesh
The scent of blood is exhilarating.
A saint, smelling it, would mourn the pain of the dead.
A villain, breathing it in, would relish the carnal offering.
Qi Si leaned back in the high-backed chair and took a deep breath, letting the rich, fresh scent of blood fill his lungs.
He held a scalpel, the thin calluses on his fingertips gliding lightly across the blade, wiping away a smear of blood.
"Trust me, I won't call the cops. Please, just let me go..."
Before Qi Si, a man was tied to a chair, his pleas as faint as a dying breath.
"Letting you go isn't out of the question. After all, this isn't some life-or-death grudge match between us."
Qi Si smiled, as if catching up with a long-lost friend. "Frankly, your abrupt arrival doesn't anger me. In truth, I've been looking into you for a long time—Liu Ajiu."
As his name was spoken, the expression on the man's face shifted in seconds from confusion and bewilderment to sheer terror. "Who... Who the hell are you?
"If I did something to someone you know, I had no choice, I can make it up to you..."
Qi Si stepped away from the high-backed chair, placed the scalpel against the man's neck, and sighed. "Shut up. Listen quietly, or I'll chop you up and feed you to the pigs."
The threat bought him a moment of welcome silence.
A gentle smile returned to his face. "No need to be so frightened. I've investigated many people besides you. Before today, you weren't even the most special one on my list.
"At some point, 'you people' began gathering vast amounts of information on supernatural incidents, squandering your entire fortunes, acting like desperate fugitives.
"During that time, strange things happened to each of you, to varying degrees. Take you, for instance. Released from a federal prison due to insufficient evidence, and your hereditary heart condition was miraculously cured.
"I have reason to believe that 'you people' have had some kind of extraordinary encounter: one that carries a certain risk but promises considerable rewards."
Not long ago, Qi Si had been diagnosed with a terminal illness. The doctors said he had three years left, at most.
It was around that time that he stumbled upon a few individuals who seemed to have been involved in supernatural events and had benefited from them.
With nothing better to do, he adopted a "what's there to lose?" attitude and began compiling a list of those who were orphans or otherwise alone in the world—a list of candidates he could "capture for research later."
And the man before him, Liu Ajiu, happened to be on that list. The type whose death wouldn't attract too much attention.
Qi Si had always been a hands-on child, with a far stronger drive to act than most people.
He would do anything—break any law, defy any moral code or public convention—to achieve his goals.
If things had gone according to plan, he would have gathered enough information, formulated a strategy, and then selected an unlucky soul to abduct and silence permanently.
But he never expected Liu Ajiu to barge into his workshop—a studio where he created and collected specimens—wielding a gun and a foul attitude.
Half an hour earlier, the man had pressed the gun to Qi Si's head, muttering like a madman, "I have no other choice. It's just your bad luck. Tell me where the cash is!"
Qi Si had no cash. He also couldn't understand why anyone would try to rob a dilapidated, abandoned warehouse in the middle of nowhere.
He had been forced to raise his hands, feign terror, and then, when the man's guard dropped, launch a surprise attack. It had taken considerable effort to subdue him and tie him to the chair.
His preparations for encountering the "supernatural" were far from complete, but since his subject had delivered himself to his doorstep, killing him or letting him go would be a waste.
And Qi Si was a frugal person.
Now, with a flick of his wrist, he pressed the handle of the scalpel into the wound on the man's shoulder, eliciting a scream like that of a donkey whose kidney had just been stomped on.
He lowered his gaze, his tone innocent and sincere. "A man like you, dying is no great loss. Tell me everything you know, and I might let you live."
The man's head snapped up, then fell again. His lips trembled as he spat out a string of phrases: "Not chosen... can't know... can't say..."
The words were disjointed, as if key parts had been forcefully erased.
Understanding dawned on Qi Si. "You're saying that some power is restraining you, preventing you from telling me what I want to know, is that right?"
The man nodded frantically, his plea almost groveling. "Let me go, and I can help you find a way... get you in..."
Another string of muffled words. Qi Si lowered his head, his fingers tapping an idle rhythm against his thigh, appearing to seriously weigh the man's proposal.
Seconds ticked by. Under the man's hopeful gaze, Qi Si's lips stretched into a wide grin. "You forgot to wear shoe covers when you came in."
The scalpel plunged into muscle and was withdrawn. A slick, smooth sensation was followed by a spray of blood that landed with a soft, gentle touch, soaking his pale fingertips.
Disposing of a body wasn't easy these days. Quicklime, hydrogen peroxide, hydrofluoric acid—none were easy to come by. But for Qi Si, it wasn't that difficult.
At twelve, he had nothing, yet he still managed to kill someone without his parents ever finding out.
Looking at the man's wide, unseeing eyes, Qi Si felt a sense of satisfaction. He stroked his chin, mulling over methods of disposal.
Without warning, a dispassionate, electronic voice echoed from the depths of his mind:
[Contracted player death detected. Screening vicinity for qualified candidates.]
Qi Si narrowed his eyes.
A thick white mist began to rise in the small room, and the light dimmed several shades, casting everything in the hazy ambiguity of pre-dawn twilight.
Before the dead man, a black metal card slowly materialized, hovering in the air, shimmering in and out of view.
Gilded patterns were etched onto its surface. A closer look revealed them to be the sprawling branches of a giant tree, which seemed to flow with life as the light flickered over them.
Qi Si reached out and grasped the metal card. A line of silver text appeared in the empty air before him:
[Weird Game Invitation Letter]
Weird Game? What was that?
Qi Si's gaze lingered on the unfamiliar term.
As if sensing his confusion, a flood of non-narrative information bypassed his cognitive processes and poured directly into his mind.
The Weird Game was created by an entity called the "Rule." It selected qualified players from all over the world and dropped them into instances filled with bizarre phenomena and urban legends, where they had to solve mysteries and complete tasks.
It was a deadly game teeming with ghosts and monsters. If a player failed a task or died within an instance, their existence in the real world would also be erased.
But with great danger came great opportunity. Players who successfully cleared an instance would earn a large number of points; with enough points, any wish could be granted.
Qi Si finally understood what the man he'd killed had experienced.
He had entered the Weird Game, completed tasks to earn points, and used them to fulfill wishes—including destroying evidence of his crimes and curing his heart disease.
[You have killed the player "Liu Ajiu." You have priority in choosing whether to inherit his game qualification.]
The cold, electronic voice sounded again, enunciating each word with precision:
[Are you willing to become a player and enter the Weird Game?]
Qi Si stroked the silver bracelet on his right wrist and asked casually, "Can you cure my illness?"
[In the Weird Game, you can obtain everything you desire. Wealth, power, health... all are within your reach.]
[The only thing you need to face and overcome is your fear of the weird.]
The silver text was as seductive as it could be.
Qi Si tapped his chin. "How many points does a wish like curing a terminal illness usually cost? Roughly how many instances would I need to clear?"
[Sign the contract, and you will learn in due time.]
Qi Si raised an eyebrow. "I know very little about this so-called 'Weird Game.' Can I take a few days to decide?"
[Please make your decision within five minutes, or you will be deemed to have forfeited your qualification. All memories related to the game will be erased, and you will never be selected as a player again.]
Emphasizing urgency and exclusivity—classic tactics of deception and inducement. It screamed of being a trap, a scam.
But Qi Si figured that with only three years left to live, he didn't have much to lose even if it all went wrong.
He did not fear a grand, theatrical death, but he refused to let a disease snuff him out in obscurity.
Dying without a body to bury, or a fate worse than death in this Weird Game—any ending was better than the utterly boring one of dying from illness.
Besides, a "survival game" and "horror instances"... it all sounded rather fun!
The calculation took less than a second. A brilliant smile bloomed on Qi Si's lips, like a child who had just discovered a fascinating new toy.
He fixed his gaze on the silver words hanging in the air and repeated, enunciating each word clearly, "I am willing to become a player and enter the Weird Game."
[Contract signed. Player information loaded.]
[Loading instance... Load complete.]
1. This story focuses on puzzles and game theory, with less emphasis on horror. It's more "suspense" and "mystery" than "supernatural." Readers seeking pure fright should proceed with caution.
2. Qi Si is a psychologically dark, degenerate pervert with an inhuman worldview. Normal human beings should proceed with caution.
3. This is a dark novel, somewhere between a story about a ruthless, self-serving protagonist and one about a deceptively dangerous character, leaning more towards the latter. Readers with low psychological tolerance should proceed with caution.
4. The author frequently revises the text, so please support the official version. All plot points should be considered final only on the official platform.
5. The author writes for the love of it and will not abandon the story, but updates will not be fast (think of other famously slow authors). If this bothers you, proceed with caution.
6. Reading tip: Anyone can lie, especially the protagonist. Do not blindly trust anything any character says.
7. This book is based on original characters. The earliest verifiable creation date is July 31, 2022 (on the author's LOFTER of the same name), though the actual conception was even earlier. Those inclined to make unrelated comments, please check the timeline first. (smile)
(End of this chapter)