exhaustion was evident.
No one wanted to lie on the bed in the rest area and get some good rest more than she did.
She really wanted to experience what it felt like to sleep soundly!
Yuán Qīnglí dragged her weary legs toward the rest area.
Bó Zǐjīn had a surge of anger stuck in his throat, making it difficult to swallow.
He turned his head and glared at Lù Xǐngyún.
His eyes were filled with a mixture of anger and resentment.
"I knew I shouldn't have come looking for you, you absolute lost cause."
It was rare to see a new emotion appear on Bó Zǐjīn's cold brows.
Lù Xǐngyún found it amusing and couldn't be bothered to retort.
He quickened his pace, catching up to Yuán Qīnglí.
With someone who knew the way leading, it only took them five minutes to reach the rest area.
The rest area door, which was open in the afternoon, was now tightly shut.
It resembled a giant beast slumbering in the darkness.
Through one of the doors, a faint light could be seen in the hall. A familiar figure was vaguely visible, supporting her eight long and slender legs.
The eight legs were in various states of repose, appearing quite languid.
Lù Xǐngyún stepped forward and knocked on the door.
There was no response.
Bó Zǐjīn also walked to the wind chimes and rang them.
With both methods employed, there was still no reaction from inside. They were even denied a sliver of a gap under the door.
"Boss Jīn, it's Yuán Qīnglí. Are you in? I'm sorry, we were delayed and have returned late."
After some time, Jīn Wùwù's voice came from inside.
"Sister Yuán, I'm sorry, but I can't open the door for you right now. It's already past eleven o'clock."
Yuán Qīnglí's suspicion grew, and she asked loudly, "Can't you make an exception? Even opening the door for a second would be fine."
"I personally would love to open the door for you, but I can't."
Listening closely, Jīn Wùwù's tone carried a hint of coldness.
Chapter Seventy-five: The Far Shore Circus (29)
"Why not?"
"You each received a copy of the park rules, and the doors cannot be opened after eleven o'clock." Jīn Wùwù's voice was chillingly devoid of emotion.
"Then could you lower a ladder from the second floor? If not, even a rope would do," Lù Xǐngyún suggested constructively.
"I'm sorry, it's not that I don't want to open it, but I have to be responsible for the other guests in the establishment." Jīn Wùwù looked down, ignoring them directly.
Bó Zǐjīn walked to the door, grabbed the doorknob with both hands, and pulled forcefully, saying coldly,
"Open the door."
The loud noise startled everyone, and Jīn Wùwù's alluring shoulders trembled.
She looked up and saw that it was Bó Zǐjīn's doing, and then regained her composure.
Jīn Wùwù tilted her head back and took small steps to the door.
Everyone thought she was going to open it, but Jīn Wùwù spread her arms and
pulled down the curtains covering the door.
Inside, apart from the dim yellow light, no other sights could be discerned.
"Hurry and take cover."
This was Jīn Wùwù's last sentence, filled with sincerity, fear, and a hint of mockery.
Seeing that Jīn Wùwù was not going to open the door, the three of them had no choice but to turn and sit under a nearby tree.
"Have you noticed that Jīn Wùwù can be quite contradictory at times?"
Lù Xǐngyún crossed his arms and leaned casually against the tree trunk, his voice clear and his tone noble and languid.
Yuán Qīnglí agreed, "She seems to want to help us, but she's also afraid of something."
"I'm going in."
Bó Zǐjīn picked up a stone from the ground.
A dominant CEO can never have what they can't obtain.
"I don't like violence, but this time I support you."
Lù Xǐngyún also picked up a stone, but as he turned back, his expression changed.
At the main gate not far away, a metal grille had somehow descended.
The bars of the grille were tightly spaced, as thick as a wrist, making it impossible to break through by force.
"This wretched spider!"
Lù Xǐngyún said indignantly, throwing the stone. It hit with a crisp sound that echoed far into the night.
"Let's go, we need to find a place to hide. It looks like it's going to fog up." Yuán Qīnglí looked up at the sky, which was as black as a glutton's stomach, with no discernible boundary.
"Follow me."
Yuán Qīnglí led the two of them around a corner, disappearing into the dimness.
After confirming there was no one else or any unknown objects nearby, she took a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket.
"Did the Clown give this to you?" Lù Xǐngyún asked after a moment's thought.
"Yes."
Unfolding the paper, the handwriting was a bit messy, clearly written in haste.
"Withering dangerous wall." The three spoke in unison.
"What does that mean?" Lù Xǐngyún was puzzled.
"A riddle," Bó Zǐjīn, uncharacteristically, added, "How did you get it?"
Yuán Qīnglí briefly recounted what had happened, omitting the details of the interview.
"A paper with a riddle usually conveys one of two types of information: a crucial clue that cannot be passed openly, or an agreed-upon time and place for a meeting."
Bó Zǐjīn looked serious, which was quite handsome. "Important clues are usually passed between relatively familiar people, accompanied by a decryption table, similar to Morse code. Since this is your first meeting, it's likely the second scenario."
Yuán Qīnglí: "Then where is this time and place?"
"These are two words, which can determine a time and a place. What do these two words make you think of?"
"For 'withering,' I think of the animal menagerie; the animals have lost their freedom, their spirits withered."
Lù Xǐngyún possessed a compassionate aura. "As for 'dangerous wall,' it must be a wall on the verge of collapse. So, we should look for a wall in the animal menagerie?"
"I think it's the rose garden. 'Withering' generally refers to plants, and 'dangerous wall' aligns with Lù Xǐngyún's viewpoint."
"But you've both suggested locations. What about the time?"
The two were dumbfounded.
"Withering dangerous wall... withering dangerous wall..." Lù Xǐngyún began to mutter.
Half a minute later, his tongue twisted. "Until zero dangerous wall."
Like lightning tearing through the sky, Bó Zǐjīn's eyes gleamed. "I know, 'Until zero dangerous wall', go to the dangerous wall at midnight. And 'dangerous wall' reversed is..."
"Rose," the two exclaimed.
To the rose garden at midnight!
"Let's go."
Chapter Seventy-six: The Far Shore Circus (30)
As soon as they turned the corner into the dimness, cold sweat soaked through all three of their backs.
Although they didn't look back, they could all feel the coldness behind them.
It was the piercing gaze of a hunter upon its prey, a gaze like a sharp sword piercing through their chests and embedding itself in their hearts.
The three exchanged glances, all sensing that something was wrong. This must be why Jīn Wùwù refused to open the door.
"Scatter."
The three dispersed quickly, Yuán Qīnglí running forward, circling a large tree. In her peripheral vision, she caught a glimpse behind her.
The world had become completely dark, the path she had run through had vanished, leaving only darkness.
Following her heart, Yuán Qīnglí half-crouched.
Something seemed to scrape past her head. The tree beside her had a hole at the height of her chest.
As the tree was penetrated, the edges of the hole began to rot.
Wood gradually turned into liquid, slowly forming a drop of viscous amber that fell to the ground.
Yuán Qīnglí was shocked. What kind of attack was this!
It was traceless. If she hadn't been alert, her chest would have been impaled.
*Whoosh.*
Yuán Qīnglí scrambled forward in a flurry.
The ground where she had just crouched now bore a shallow pit the size of a coin.
Yuán Qīnglí's gaze grew colder. The attack had come from the front, and now it was from above. Who was this person?
*Whoosh.*
Yuán Qīnglí nimbly dodged again.
*Whoosh.*
No, there was something behind her too.
The sound grew louder and brighter.
Yuán Qīnglí could see the materialized sonic wave passing through her head.
*Thud.*
"Ah!"
A figure shrouded in black mist approached. It wasn't quite right to call it a figure; it was more like a puddle of mud, like a snail.
The black mist covering its body turned into a viscous, tar-like liquid, rolling along the ground like a tire, slithering.
Yuán Qīnglí wanted to escape but found herself completely paralyzed.
She couldn't even move her eyelids.
The black mist slowly approached, straightened up, the viscous liquid rippled, caved in, and formed a large mouth.
It was over.
The black mist, smelling of rotten eggs, swallowed Yuán Qīnglí's head.
Yuán Qīnglí's eyes were open, and the dim world outside finally disappeared below her nose.
In the darkness, she saw a glimmer of light, approaching with a dazzling brilliance.
It was a hammer.
Yuán Qīnglí's eyes widened, perhaps the only organ she could move besides her heart.
The drill bit stopped about three inches above Yuán Qīnglí's forehead.
Then, another light appeared.
A hammer.
The hammer came down with immense force, devoid of mercy.
"Ah!" A scream rose from her heart, and excruciating pain struck her forehead.
"Ya!" The other party was skilled; in just two blows, Yuán Qīnglí felt that the warmth on her head was gone.
It was as cold as a winter day, like taking off a hat after wearing it with short hair.
Her skull had been opened.
Yuán Qīnglí seemed to smell her own brain, seeing red and white, her pulse beating violently, making bubbling sounds like a boiling hot pot.
Another light!
A terrifying premonition.
Yuán Qīnglí knew this light would be her doom.
Indeed, it was a soup spoon.
The spoon touched her brain, and Yuán Qīnglí's body trembled from the depths of her soul.
The spoon showed no mercy, scooping directly...
"Tsk, tsk, tsk."
Yuán Qīnglí heard a smacking sound, as if savoring a delicacy...
She felt as if her fragmented self was thrown into an abyss.
An ineffable horror and despair.
"Ahhhhhh!"
In a daze, the world before her eyes returned to normal.
No hammer, no spoon, no rolling black mist, no strange person.
But Yuán Qīnglí's body felt like a deflated balloon.
She collapsed on the ground, her head throbbing.
Getting up with difficulty, her entire body felt as if she had just been in a sauna, drenched and cold.
Yuán Qīnglí reached up and gently touched the top of her head, gasping for breath. Her skull was still intact.
Was that just a nightmare?
Leaning against the wall, she staggered around, and finally saw that splash of vibrant red.
A faint fragrance wafted into her nostrils with the breeze, the sharp pain shattered and gradually dissipated.
"Yuán... Qīnglí, is that you?" a pained groan came from behind her.
Chapter Seventy-seven: The Far Shore Circus (31)
Yuán Qīnglí turned around to see Lù and Bó, who had also clearly suffered.
The dim light made their pale faces even more noticeable, and the wetness on their bodies was unstoppable, indicating they had also endured unimaginable pain.
"Are you alright?"
Lù Xǐngyún supported Bó Zǐjīn, his voice trembling.
After they scattered, he still had to find the lost traveler, a truly arduous experience.
Yuán Qīnglí shook her head.
"Heh heh," Lù Xǐngyún gave a bitter laugh. "I was just having my heart and liver dissected and made into skewers; it was quite fragrant. What about you two?"
"Thigh barbecue," Bó Zǐjīn said sparingly.
Even he, who was usually full of energy, struggled to speak.
"Brain hot pot."
"This person is quite the gourmand; hot pot, barbecue, oden, all the dishes are covered." Lù Xǐngyún, for a brief moment, had the presence of mind to joke, his languid tone a way of finding humor in hardship.
The three stood there, inhaling the fragrance for a while, like three addicts.
"Let's go."
The intense pain had come and gone quickly, but the pain in their hearts would likely be a lifelong nightmare.
...
From a corner of the garden's mottled wall, a figure emerged: a large-eyed, aquiline-nosed character with wide sleeves – the orange clown they had met earlier.
Where the orange clown's chest had been, there was now a patch of crimson.
Yuán Qīnglí and the other two did not approach immediately.
First, after experiencing the night's recruitment event,
Yuán Qīnglí understood that while these clowns might not be top-tier villains, it didn't mean they were good.
The line between bad and evil was blurred.
The orange clown saw the cold-faced trio and slowly blinked, revealing what he thought was a friendly smile.
His mouth, drawn with red greasepaint, stretched all the way to his ears. Even with this slight smile, it looked sinister and unfriendly.
"Hello."
His throat sounded as if it had been cut by a knife, his voice hoarse and unpleasant.
Yuán Qīnglí held up the paper strip in her hand and narrowed her eyes,
still cautious.
"I gave that to you." The orange clown nodded slightly and took two steps forward.
As he approached, the scent of blood from his chest grew stronger, reaching their noses.
His chest ached intensely. The orange clown took a deep breath, coughed a few times, and the pain subsided slightly.
The furrow in his brow slowly relaxed.
His voice was not loud, but clear enough for them to hear.
"You can trust me. I am on the side of the tourists. Or rather, all of us red clowns are on the tourists' side."
"Red? But you're clearly orange." Bó Zǐjīn's imposing figure cast a shadow over the clown, exuding a powerful sense of pressure.
"I am red."
As the orange clown finished speaking, he made an unexpected move!
He reached out, began to lift his "skin suit" from his chest, and then, gritting his teeth, ripped it open.
Through the dim light, the three found it strange that he was removing his clothing starting from the chest, and with such apparent pain.
With a sound like tearing fabric, blood dripped onto the ground.
The heavy scent of blood dyed the air.
He had ripped off his own skin...
Revealing a red body!
The three widened their eyes in shock.
So bloody and terrifying!
They had always assumed these clowns wore different colored uniforms, never imagining that these clothes were their actual bodies.
Soon, the clown, enduring the pain, put his skin back on.
He paused, his gaze falling on Yuán Qīnglí. "If you feel unwell, be sure to seek help from a red clown immediately."
Yuán Qīnglí recalled the people she had seen in the service hall; there were no red clowns among them.
Perhaps it was because she had seen so many clowns of various rainbow colors – orange, yellow, green, etc.
So she subconsciously assumed there would be red ones too...
Human subconsciousness was truly terrifying.
She hadn't noticed the peculiarity just now!
"Why would you do this?" Lù Xǐngyún was somewhat impressed by the clown's effort to endure the pain.
"Perhaps you will understand better if I explain it this way."
The orange clown said, "Because danger is everywhere, we red clowns disguise ourselves as other colors. From beginning to end, we are on the tourists' side. I will not harm you. However, there is some unknown entity that prevents us from helping you. Once discovered, our fate would be... extremely tragic."
A look of painful memory flashed across the clown's face, clearly indicating that his companions had suffered terrible torment.
"Please believe me."
Even though the clown's tone held a hint of pleading, the group remained skeptical.
Chapter Seventy-eight: The Far Shore Circus (32)
Yuán Qīnglí connected this to her own experiences and Mù Yíngshān's.
She asked, "Can you tell us what 'unwell' refers to?"
"This 'unwell'... you can understand it as a mental attack, or mental contamination.
After being contaminated, some people develop a mental form of corruption. Those with stronger mental power are more likely to experience physical discomfort.
For example, abdominal pain, chills, or vomiting blood. They can endure it for a few days. Weaker tourists will suffer from both mental and physical attacks, and without timely treatment, they will quickly..."
"Wait, today... have you already been contaminated?"
The orange clown's pupils contracted slightly, then he nodded to himself. "That's right. Otherwise, why would you be in the service hall?"
The three watched him talk to himself, unsure of what to say.
This clown seemed even more naive than his painted face suggested.
Even so,
the adversarial stance between players and NPCs meant Yuán Qīnglí and the others did not reveal more information.
The orange clown's expression turned solemn as he looked at Yuán Qīnglí. "Judging by your current condition, you should have received proper treatment. Be extremely careful, you cannot afford a second mental contamination. Otherwise, the consequences would be unimaginable... even we couldn't help you then."
Strange, she hadn't been treated by a red clown at all.
Just as Yuán Qīnglí was about to ask if it was related to that strange creature they encountered on the way, the orange clown's face changed drastically. "It's here!"
Heavy, viscous footsteps *pat*, *pat* landed on the ground, as if dragging something.
At this moment, the sky was completely enveloped in thick black mist. The pervasive breathing sound was like dozens of people crowded around them, giggling and staring.
Dense, accompanied by rhythmic breathing.
It was a feeling of being watched.
As if eyes were everywhere, piercing through the fog in the darkness, blinking with curiosity.
Dark, beady eyes stared at you, crowded together, whispering and discussing, wanting to leave their mark on you.
Yuán Qīnglí and the other two felt a chill run down their spines.
Looking at the orange clown's expression, it wasn't much better. He raised his index finger and made a shushing gesture.
The slightly dried blood on his white glove was the only splash of color in the gloom.
Yuán Qīnglí came to her senses quickly.
Beside her, Lù Xǐngyún seemed unaffected.
Only Bó Zǐjīn frowned, clutching his bow tie with his left hand, his expression disturbed.
Something seemed to be exploding and spreading in his mind.
"Bó Zǐjīn, let me go! And let yourself go..."
"Heh, your current infatuation is worthless in my eyes."
"I want to go to the sea and die there."
"Bó Zǐjīn, Bó Zǐjīn, Bó Zǐjīn! You deserve to die more than I do!"
The clown quickly moved in front of Bó Zǐjīn, dipped his index finger in the red on his chest, and drew a small red flower on Bó Zǐjīn's face.
At the same time, he muttered incantations.
Yuán Qīnglí heard the heavy *pata* footsteps receding, heading in the direction of the rest area.
She understood then and confirmed her suspicion.
If the owner of those footsteps was heading for the rest area, it explained Jīn Wùwù's refusal to open the door and her driving them away with the iron grille.
"Bó Zǐjīn, are you alright?"
Lù Xǐngyún's voice pulled Yuán Qīnglí's attention back.
Bó Zǐjīn's face was icy, pale with a sharp chill.
He glanced sideways. "I'm fine. You should worry about yourself."
His ambiguous tone indeed indicated he had recovered his senses.
Lù Xǐngyún noticed Bó Zǐjīn's gaze fixed on his nose.
He reached up and touched it.
A nosebleed.
The orange clown's gaze flickered between Yuán Qīnglí and Lù Xǐngyún, his expression shifting from surprise to joy.
However, the emotional changes were so rapid that they were hard to catch.
"Is your blood like Tang Monk's blood?" Yuán Qīnglí approached.
The orange clown smiled gently.