Chapter Forty-Seven: The Seven-Day Game

Seeing that time was almost up, I took the initiative to speak to Chen Chen, who was still staring blankly. “Let’s go. We should head up.”

Chen Chen glanced at me and nodded.

So, the two of us walked side by side toward the stairs.

“Children, no matter what happens, don’t shout or scream…” As I was about to step onto the stairs, the middle-aged man sitting at the information desk below spoke up.

When I turned around to look at him, he was still listening to music, showing no sign of anything unusual.

“Forget it, let’s just go,” Chen Chen whispered at my side.

We made our way upstairs without any obstacles, reaching the fourth floor smoothly.

Along the way, we encountered many strange patients—some acting out plays for their own amusement, some singing opera alone in their rooms, all sorts of oddities…

But when we reached the fourth floor, it felt different from below.

The lower floors had been noisy, but here, there was not a sound.

I followed Chen Chen to Room 401. I glanced at the time—exactly one o’clock.

I knocked on the door and called inside, “Is anyone there?”

“How could there be no one?” No sooner had I finished speaking than a sharp male voice rang out from within.

Chen Chen and I exchanged glances, then gently pushed the door open and entered.

The room was spotless, even filled with the scent of chrysanthemums. It was clear this man wasn’t truly insane.

Looking toward the window, I saw the man sitting with his back to us, humming a tune, one leg crossed over the other.

“I am Lin Yao. I’ve come to visit you,” I said politely, though my hand had already slipped into my ring to grip the Snow Blade, just in case.

“Sigh. In this world, even Lin Yitian’s son has been dragged into that boring game…”

“I know why you’re here, to find my brother, Li Ping’an, right? He’s already dead.”

“And I’ll be gone soon myself~”

His words left me stunned. Why did it seem like everyone in the world knew my father?

But I didn’t have time to dwell on that. I noticed Chen Chen’s face had already turned grim.

“I beg you, please point us in the right direction,” I said, deeply bowing to the man.

“If you trust me, go to Wanjin City and look for the Soul Stone. It will give you the answer.”

I studied the man intently, but throughout, he never turned to face us, so I never saw his face clearly.

“Thank you,” I said, and then pulled Chen Chen with me as we left the room.

Outside, I turned to Chen Chen and asked, “What’s wrong? You look terrible.”

Her eyes were vacant and her breathing ragged, as if she’d just been through an ordeal.

“My information says Li Ping’an isn’t dead—he’s alive and well. How could he be dead?”

“And, as soon as I entered the room, a force suppressed my whole body. I couldn’t speak.”

I was no longer surprised by such things; I’d been through it several times before.

This only proved that the man in 401 was a master.

“Enough for now. We’ll investigate later. Let’s go,” I said, supporting Chen Chen.

She nodded weakly, her face pale, and followed me down the stairs.

Again, our path was unimpeded. The patients continued their singing, acting, and performances as before.

After a while, Chen Chen’s color began to return and she no longer needed my support.

As we left the hospital, the man at the information desk suddenly called after us, “Take care, you two. There’s still a long road ahead.”

I didn’t pay much attention at the time, only recalling it later.

Chen Chen and I walked side by side along the dusty road, neither of us speaking.

This trip had been fruitless, and naturally, our spirits were low.

“Hey, Lin Yao, do you think if we find out who the Ghost King is, we’ll actually be able to defeat him?” Chen Chen, head down as she walked, suddenly asked me.

Could we really defeat the powerful Ghost King? Not to mention everything else—his ability to kill from afar alone was terrifying enough.

Even if we found him, with our current strength, he could probably kill us as easily as crushing a mouse.

“I don’t know. Maybe. Even if we can’t and he kills us, it’s better than living in fear every day…”

Chen Chen gazed at me resolutely and nodded firmly.

…

We walked on until we reached the main road, hailed separate taxis, and went home.

Of course, Chen Chen and I had also discussed our next steps. Wanjin City was quite a distance away; a round trip by car would take two days, and we didn’t even know what the Soul Stone looked like or where to find it.

So, we decided to gather more information and wait until the Ghost King granted a break.

In the meantime, all I could do was train diligently to prepare for the Ghost King’s game.

Accompanied by the roar of the car engine, I made it home. I had already called Nan Gongxi, and she was waiting for me at the door when I arrived.

It was already past three. After eating some leftovers, I collapsed onto the sofa to rest—really, just to sleep.

“Brother, what do you do every day?” As soon as I lay down, Nan Gongxi, sucking on a lollipop, hovered beside me.

“Me? I’m just trying to survive…”

She muttered an “oh,” probably not understanding.

Since Nan Gongxi, this little spirit, had come to live with me, the house finally felt alive again. I was no longer so lonely.

But she was, after all, a ghost—she couldn’t live like ordinary people. I had asked her once if she had any dreams, and she answered without hesitation:

“To live once more.”

…

These days, apart from training and practicing martial arts, I spent my time playing with Nan Gongxi.

Of course, I was also dealing with serious matters.

I had asked Second Uncle to look into the Dong family. According to him, the Dong family wasn’t particularly powerful themselves—it was the sect behind them that mattered.

So, I decided that once I reached the Spirit Blossom stage, I would visit the Dong family myself.

On the last night of the holiday, I was watching TV with Nan Gongxi when, after a long silence, my phone’s message alert went off.

“Classmates, the coming games will only get harder, so you’d better be prepared.”

I couldn’t stand his disgusting tone, so I replied directly in the group chat, “What’s tomorrow’s game?”

“Tomorrow’s game is a seven-day survival challenge. I’ll explain the specific rules tomorrow.”

Seven days? The Ghost King was really raising the stakes. Unsurprisingly, several lurkers in the group voiced their dissatisfaction.

“Seven days? Why not just make it a whole year next time?”

“You’re getting more twisted by the day, huh.”

“When will this stupid game end? Will any of us even survive?”

Yes, those were the questions I wanted to ask too.

“What’s wrong? Is something bothering you?” Nan Gongxi, ever sensitive to emotions, noticed my troubled expression and asked.

“Ah, it’s nothing. I just don’t feel well,” I replied, rubbing my face.

Seeing I didn’t want to talk, she didn’t press further, only telling me, “Life is the most important thing—nothing matters more…”

(Family, that’s all for today. I’ll post a huge update at the end of the month.)