TEG 2
Chapter 2: Inside and Out
The troupe leader was registering the names of the dead while most of the outsiders—those dragged into this nightmarish realm—were still staring in shock at another faceless corpse.
When the leader slammed the ledger shut and swept his eyes around, everyone involuntarily stepped back half a pace, only to force themselves to stop.
They looked like they wanted to run but didn’t dare.
The troupe leader sneered and slammed his staff on the ground with a heavy thud. His booming voice made their ears buzz.
"You lot! Making noise this late? Have you finished your training for today? The Grand Nuo Ritual is in two days—how much Nuo technique have you learned?"
Everyone shrank back from his venomous gaze.
"Of course," the troupe leader said, clearly not surprised. "Tonight is the last time I'm saying this. If you can't learn the Nuo technique and still think about fooling around, you'll vanish from here sooner or later."
"Only with solid training can you qualify to preside! If you do well, you might even get to play the role of a deity in the Grand Nuo!"
"And once you play a deity, the gods will grant your dreams during the Dream Petition Ceremony!"
"Our Song family troupe is one that actually invites deities! So many people are dying to enter our Nuo Hall and pray for dreams, and you lot, already inside, don't even know to cherish it!"
The troupe leader hoisted his jujube-wood staff. "Enough! Get back to your rooms and rest! If I catch anyone wandering around again, you’ll join these two short-lived ghosts!"
Just as he turned to leave, he stumbled slightly over a corpse’s outstretched arm.
Disgusted, he nudged the body with the tip of his foot. As if remembering something, he turned back with a threatening glare.
"Up at first cockcrow tomorrow to train! Anyone late—I'll make sure they regret ever having a head!"
Thud, thud, thud—he stormed off, every step shaking loose pear blossoms that scattered like snow.
The pressure in the courtyard immediately eased once he left, and everyone let out a sigh of relief.
The night breeze blew against sweat-drenched clothes, sending a chill through their backs.
“...Shit,” Diao Xinsha spat angrily. “You’d better get your heads on straight. If we kill the wrong realm master again, we’re all screwed!”
Zhou Xiangyue, lying on the ground, thought: yeah, that really was careless.
To break a Night Realm, one must kill its master—the central NPC among the many.
However, other non-master NPCs also play key roles in maintaining the realm. If the invaders misidentify the realm master and kill too many of the wrong NPCs, the realm may collapse, crushing all within it into a bloody pulp.
Each Night Realm has a different "margin for error"—usually two, never more than three.
According to the original host’s memory, someone already killed the wrong NPC last night.
Meaning, if they mess up again, the whole realm could collapse, and everyone dies.
That’s bad, Zhou Xiangyue thought.
“Let’s go,” Diao Xinsha said to the scribe and the guy with glasses.
Glasses was about to follow when he suddenly felt a chill crawl up his neck.
It was as if a gaze was coldly watching him from the shadows.
Startled, he spun around. “!!”
“What?!” Diao Xinsha clutched his whip.
“I... I...” Glasses stammered, “It felt like someone was watching me…”
But when everyone turned to look, the courtyard was still and silent under the dark red moonlight. Twisted branches of the pear trees cast ghostly shadows on the walls. Wind carried scattered petals through the air.
Nothing was there.
Diao Xinsha snorted. “Hallucinating already? What a coward. There’s not even a shadow. Let’s go.”
He turned and walked off.
Glasses mumbled an obedient response and shivered like a haunted pup as he followed.
[Calling it now—this whole group’s doomed.]
[Haha, the guy last night was a noob. Got so scared he killed a child NPC right off. Sure, Diao Xinsha slit his throat, but now they’ve used up their only mistake. One more wrong kill and it’s game over.]
[Impressive. You don’t usually see such dumb players make it into a Night Realm.]
[Yeah, definitely the worst team I’ve ever seen.]
The footsteps faded. The courtyard filled with pear trees fell silent once again.
The blood-red moon hung in the sky like a drop of blood, casting its eerie light over the pale petals and crimson bloodstains.
Petals continued to fall like snow, soundless, landing gently on the blood-soaked corpse. The boy’s frail body looked like it might be blown away with the blossoms.
One petal landed on his pale, bloodied fingertip.
A moment later, the fingertip twitched.
The boy, long presumed dead, slowly opened his eyes.
Zhou Xiangyue really didn’t want to lie on the ground anymore. It was cold, damp, and really uncomfortable.
He leaned against the wall to sit up. Wiping the corner of his mouth with a knuckle, he saw blood dripping down his sleeve and fingertips.
His torn sleeve revealed a thin wrist, pale skin laced with bluish veins.
As he stood, petals cascaded from his body like shaken snow.
Zhou Xiangyue picked a blossom from his shoulder and brought it close to his face.
His fingers were barely more colored than the flower.
He gazed at the fully bloomed petal thoughtfully.
Though he had distracted Glasses with the spirit box, he hadn’t been completely confident they wouldn’t hear his heartbeat.
Fortunately, the red moon and falling blossoms diverted their attention.
He could only thank the heavens for helping him out.
Zhou Xiangyue tilted his head up and closed his eyes.
The moonlight dyed his sickly pale face with a faint tinge of red.
After a while, he opened his eyes and took a deep breath.
The night breeze carried a faint floral scent laced with the smell of blood.
Despite his injuries and amnesia in this dangerous realm, Zhou Xiangyue felt an odd sense of joy.
It was like someone who had been dead for ages was breathing fresh air for the first time again.
A deep, instinctive familiarity.
Maybe I really did come back from the dead, he thought.
He looked at the wall beside him, now stained with his blood, and used his still-bleeding fingertip to draw on a cleaner part.
One stroke, two, three—
A smiling face.
[Wait, didn’t that player die? Is he a ghost now?]
[Wasn’t someone just saying the realm should’ve closed? Why is it still open? The bugs are getting worse.]
[Honestly, never seen such a cheerful ghost before. 10/10.]
Zhou Xiangyue surveyed the quiet courtyard filled with pear trees and decaying rooms. Nothing seemed unusual.
The walls were made of old bricks with tufts of weedy grass growing from the cracks. The windows were covered in dusty, dark green paper.
Three of the side room doors were ajar, with faded red or green talismans pasted on them. The interiors were pitch-black. Only one large door stood wide open, revealing nothing inside.
There was an old shrine on the inner wall, and in its shadow, a dirty Guanyin statue barely visible.
Something warm pressed against his waist. He reached for it and found a silver token tied at his belt.
Words appeared on it:
Holder: Zhou Qing
Affiliation: None
Rank: None
Description:
Unlucky, reckless, pitiful… honestly, words can’t express how disastrous and bizarre you are. Let’s just use one word—deserved.
The "Spectating Ghost Count" below twitched between 1 and 5.
Zhou Xiangyue: "...?"
[Kept leaving and re-entering. Is the system bugged? Never seen a ghost-mode livestream bug before. Guess I’ll watch.]
[Glad I’m not the only bored one.]
[Same here.]
Staring at the flickering ghost count, a prompt popped up in his mind.
"Store the silver token in your Night Realm inventory?"
"Yes / No"
He selected yes.
With a whoosh, the token vanished.
He focused again, and the inventory appeared mid-air.
[Inventory (Beginner) 3/5]
-
Spirit Box x1
-
Coin Pouch from the Troupe Leader x1
-
Identity Token (Zhou Qing) x1
Zhou Xiangyue smirked.
Who would guess that in those few seconds when Diao Xinsha and the troupe leader leaned close to check his "corpse", he’d pickpocket them both?
Too easy. Almost boring.
[Wait, didn’t someone already take the spirit box? And when did he touch the troupe leader?? That was like two seconds!]
[No way. He got caught stealing earlier. How did he suddenly get this good?]
[Checking the replay now. I think it happened when they bent over. Their bodies blocked the camera.]
[Seriously?! This guy just stole again? Impressive.]
The box he’d taken from Diao Xinsha was a spirit box.
And the one Glasses had taken from the body? That had just been lifted off Diao Xinsha moments before.
Would be fun to see Diao Xinsha realize he’s missing another box.
Zhou Xiangyue almost laughed out loud.
He summoned the spirit box again. It was just a dull metal object with smooth edges and no visible opening.
What did it do?
The moment he wondered, some text appeared:
[Spirit Box: Junk. Scam item. Think you can detect something as rare as a realm core this easily? Sure—stand within three inches of one at midnight and you’ll get a real surprise.]
[Wait, don’t know what a realm core is? Think, genius—this is a Night Realm. It’s your life.]
Zhou Xiangyue: “…What nonsense.”
But at least now he knew—the realm core was valuable. He needed to get it.
Next, he pulled out the coin pouch.
It was old, with a frayed embroidery of a gold ingot, holding three or four bronze coins.
[Description: Worn coin pouch, useless. The coins are funeral money. They drain living energy and bring bad luck. Hold onto them and you’ll become a ghost yourself.]
“Funeral money?”
Zhou Xiangyue chuckled and picked one out.
A chill spread from his fingertip through his bones.
It was a cold that seeped into the soul.
He felt like his body was fading, becoming transparent.
[Haha, stupid, right? That thing drains your life!]
[Called it! Nobody touches the leader’s stuff for a reason.]
[Thought you were slick, huh? Fast hands can’t save unlucky fools.]
But Zhou Xiangyue didn’t drop the coin. He studied it closely.
Why would the troupe leader carry funeral money?
Was there a hidden purpose?
[Look at him, too poor to let go of junk. Rookie inventory only has five slots, and he’s hoarding garbage.]
With a light clink, the coin spun across his knuckles in a blur of moonlight.
Zhou Xiangyue exhaled softly.
Flipping the coin eased the cold a bit.
Oddly, it felt comforting, like muscle memory.
Who liked flipping coins this much?
He suddenly grew curious about his forgotten past.
First, escape the Night Realm.
Then, recover his memory.
Just then, a message appeared in his vision.
[Your "corpse" identity has expired. Due to its special nature, this Night Realm account may not use it again.]
[Explanation: You broke character, idiot. Next time you fake being dead, they’ll see right through you!]
Zhou Xiangyue raised a brow.
He’d let his “dead” status lapse without noticing.
Before he could react, a new message exploded into view.
[Warning!]
[Warning!!]
[This player is deceased. Identity parsing failed.]
[Account flagged as high-risk virus. Termination in 60 seconds.]
Bright red letters flashed on the silver token, mocking him, while a cold voice echoed—
60
59
58
...
With a soft “pa,” the coin landed in his palm.
Zhou Xiangyue: “…”
So Night Realm could just kill him outright.
But chose to be dramatic instead.
