Author: 木尺素 / Mu Chisu
Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/
Chapter 153
On the roof of the office building, the spot that looked like a lightwell was covered with ivy. Through the gaps in the leaves they could see wire mesh inside.
Qi Liuxing slashed several times with his sword. The foliage fell to the ground, but the wire remained intact.
He Xiaowei quickly fished a pair of pliers from his pack and finally cut the mesh open. Only then did everyone get a clear look at the sealed shaft itself—it really was an elevator shaft.
According to the building’s original design, the elevator should have reached straight to the roof, so an enclosure one door high had been built up here.
But the elevator was of a very old style—distinctly different from a modern one. Three sides were concrete walls, while the door was a rusty iron grille that looked more like a jail cell than a lift, giving off an eerie vibe. The grille required a hand-crank mechanism to open.
He Xiaowei tried yanking the grille for a long time but couldn’t force it open. He then gripped the crank, attempting to turn it, but the gears were rusted solid.
Seeing this, Zhou Qian took a can of lubricant from his bag. “Try this.”
He Xiaowei poured the whole can over the crank. The trick worked, and soon he could turn it.
As he strained, the grille door let out a loud creak—“ga-ching, ga-ching.”
With that, the lattice elevator door slid open.
Noticing He Xiaowei’s next move, Zhou Qian immediately warned, “Careful, don’t step inside.”
“Mm-hm, got it.” He Xiaowei halted and turned to Zhou Qian. “So what now…?”
Zhou Qian didn’t answer right away. He walked to the shaft, shone his flashlight inside, and found it empty—no elevator at all.
Had He Xiaowei stepped in, he would have plunged the full seven stories.
Zhou Qian angled the beam downward and bent to peer in. What he saw surprised him—the bottom was pitch-black, as though a monster’s gaping maw had swallowed every glimmer of light.
The shaft was astonishingly deep—far more than seven floors.
He heard a rustle beside him and turned to see Bai Zhou.
Bai Zhou had produced a rope. With a clang he tied one end to the grille, looped the rest around his waist.
Meeting Zhou Qian’s gaze Bai Zhou said, “I’ll go down for a look.”
Zhou Qian frowned slightly but said nothing more.
Stepping up, he gripped the rope. “Be careful. Call me at once if anything happens. You still have that butterfly pollen—if worst comes to worst I can get to you right away.”
“Mm, don’t worry.”
Bai Zhou fitted a head-lamp, leapt into the shaft, and began descending slowly.
To protect players, the rope payed out at a very slow speed.
Even so, it felt like ages before Zhou Qian sensed a tug on the line.
Then Bai Zhou’s voice came through the earpiece. “Nothing unusual so far. Leave two people up top. Anyone else interested can come down.”
“I’m coming.” Zhou Qian glanced back. “Xiaowei Ge, you’re afraid of ghosts—you and Hidden Blade stay here. Xiao Qi, you and I will go down.”
Zhou Qian and Qi Liuxing each took a rope. After double-checking the grille’s sturdiness, they entered the shaft together.
The depth was indeed far beyond seven stories.
While descending, Zhou Qian used a measuring device to calculate.
When they finally reached bottom, he checked the tool: “137.5 meters.”
Qi Liuxing asked, “Find anything?”
Their voices echoed loudly in the narrow shaft.
Zhou Qian adjusted to it and whispered, “From the roof down, starting at the seventh floor mark, it’s 137.5 meters to the bottom.
“Before climbing up I measured the building height—each floor, including ceiling thickness, is about 5.5 meters.”
Qi Liuxing instantly caught on. “137.5 meters equals twenty-five floors; subtract the seven visible floors and the shaft is eighteen floors deep! Could this symbolize… the eighteen levels of hell?”
“Let’s keep looking.”
After landing on the ground, Zhou Qian shone his light toward where the elevator door should be.
A grille ought to have been there too, but Bai Zhou had already cranked it open.
At that moment, Bai Zhou stood in pitch darkness, his figure haloed faintly by the lamp on his head. He was staring at something ahead, tall and straight.
Zhou Qian led Qi Liuxing over and lifted his flashlight—only to see a startling sight:
Before the three of them yawned a vast pit.
Down its center ran a tunnel, damp traces glistening—an underground river of sorts, destination unknown.
On either side of the river—directly under the office floors—two large pits spanned roughly the same footprint as each floor above.
The pits had been evenly divided into three sections each making a total of six smaller pits.
Five were heaped with piles of white bones with only one lay empty.
The bones were stacked neatly into mounds almost forming small hills. From this, there must have been countless remains.
Most grotesque, every skeleton lacked a skull—only bodies lay here, the necks severed cleanly, as if by a seasoned executioner.
After inspecting the bones, Zhou Qian turned his light on the lone empty pit.
Down here, safe from other players’ eyes, he swapped to a higher-wattage torch and saw that its floor was covered with spells and strange symbols.
Sweeping the beam back over the five bone heaps he spotted something new—each pile had a number carved beside it.
Those numbers were years.
Checking them carefully, he found they matched the years the shipping company had posted losses.
That was odd.
“Interesting,” Zhou Qian narrowed his eyes. “We thought in the first five years the company lost money every July because storms sank their ships, so later the boss began sacrificial killings to placate the sea god, and sure enough after five straight losses, sacrifices stopped the accidents and profits flowed.
“But it turns out mystical coincidences aren’t coincidences at all—they’re engineered. It seems…”
He looked at Bai Zhou.
Meeting his gaze, Bai Zhou clearly shared the thought and continued, “It seems the truth is the other way around.”
Every July the company’s vessels met disaster, triggering huge compensation.
After five years the boss began sacrifices and things improved.
That felt too mystical, too convenient—why always July? Was there really a sea god?
Flip the story and everything fits.
The July disasters weren’t fate or divine wrath—they were man-made.
Zhou Qian said, “We have limited clues, so follow them. Every case has a serial killer. This one too.
“If the motive was to calm the sea god, the corpses should match the years the company profited. They don’t. Instead, each loss year has a mound of bodies.
“So killing coincides with losses. Why? Shouting ‘stop thief’ while being the thief—quite a twist.”
“The cargo ships set out. At sea someone kills the crew and steals the freight, then blames it on storms or tsunamis.
“The murdered sailors’ bodies are secretly brought here. Everyone assumes they were lost at sea.”
After a pause he added, “Earlier, with the storm theory in mind, I rechecked the ledger notes and confirmed it.
“If ships are hijacked, why is it never uncovered and always chalked up to accidents?
“Likely there’s an inside man aboard who, before the ‘accident’, sends false distress signals pointing to bad weather.”
“Someone able to plan all this and stash so many corpses here… the killer is very likely the boss.
“By boss I mean the general manager who runs operations, not the shareholders. Zhou Ge—”
Zhou Qian looked at Bai Zhou. “The ‘boss’ office you saw on the second floor was really the GM’s?”
“Mm,” Bai Zhou replied. “The sign said ‘General Manager’. I didn’t know the company had other owners, so I called him boss.”
“Exactly. The cabinet we opened downstairs held only financials. I checked the annual reports—three shareholders, none handle day-to-day. They hired a GM.
“See the scheme? The company isn’t his. He draws a salary yet steals its cargo. While the firm bleeds money, he profits by fencing the goods.”
“Hold on,” Qi Liuxing said. “If you rob and kill at sea, why not just dump the bodies overboard? Isn’t that easier?”
Bai Zhou answered, “These talismans—and the items I found on the second floor—show he’s superstitious. I first thought he sacrificed to stop losses. Now it seems he used the spells merely to ward off vengeance.”
“Right. The GM sometimes sailed with the ships,” Zhou Qian said. “He was scared—afraid the dead would become water ghosts and drag him under. I’d say…
“He cut off their heads so their spirits couldn’t see, think, or find the way home—or the way to revenge.
“This shaft descends eighteen floors—probably symbolizing the eighteen hells. The victims are killed by the GM in life and crushed under an array in death—the killer wants them forever unable to rise and retaliate.”
With the shaft explored, Zhou Qian planned to have Little Dragon scout the underground river later for more clues.
He was about to suggest the three leave when he noticed Qi Liuxing stiffen. After a moment the boy let out a heavy sigh.
In the darkness Zhou Qian couldn’t see his face, so he raised a dimmer torch and aimed it at him.
Under the muted light the youth’s lips were heavily pursed and expression solemn.
“What is it?” Zhou Qian asked.
“I…” Qi Liuxing lowered his head slightly. When he looked up, his expression was calm again. “Nothing. I was just thinking how frightening human nature is.”
After a silence Zhou Qian said, “But you still trust me, don’t you?”
Qi Liuxing glanced at him and nodded.
Zhou Qian went on, “Human nature is scary, yet sometimes lovely. This is what you guys taught me that. So Xiao Qi, you and Xiaowei Ge have taught me many positive things—I don’t want only negatives left for you.
“Growing up is cruel, but not entirely so. I don’t have time now to untie your knots—we’ll talk after the instance.”
He patted the boy’s shoulder. “By the way, Ke Yuxiao’s case isn’t so simple. His oddity in Flowers of Evil keeps nagging me—there’s something I’ve overlooked. Also—”
Staring into Qi Liuxing’s eyes he said, “Don’t feel burdened. We’re not here solely for your revenge. This hidden instance must have a big reward.
“Zhou Ge even said the game chose me, opening hidden content specially. I already collected the Four Days of Creation items—no reason to miss the fifth.
“For now, let’s head up.”
He bit the comm mic, grabbed a rope, and was about to climb when Bai Zhou suddenly lunged over.
From behind, Bai Zhou wrapped one arm around Zhou Qian’s waist and hauled him back, retreating until they were clear of the shaft, back against the cold wall.
Then he raised his other hand and, before Zhou Qian could speak, covered his mouth.
Qi Liuxing had no idea what happened, but reflexively drew his sword on Bai Zhou, eyes full of threat—afraid some supernatural force had possessed him.
But he immediately met Bai Zhou’s steady gaze.
In the darkness Bai Zhou removed his hand from Zhou Qian’s mouth, placed a finger to his own lips for silence, then pointed upward toward the shaft opening.
“Sorry,” Qi Liuxing mouthed, sheathed his sword, and slipped aside, body taut, fully on guard.
At that very moment, on the roof.
Hidden Blade and He Xiaowei had guns pressed to their heads.
The two assailants wore purple wristbands.
Amid crisp footsteps, another person with a purple band appeared, gun in hand—a strikingly beautiful woman.
Tall and icily elegant, she glanced at the men’s wrists, smiled, and tossed a purple wristband at Hidden Blade’s feet. “You’re wearing nothing. Now you’ve seen this. Within three minutes you must put it on, or the system will kill you instantly.”
She looked at He Xiaowei and tossed him another. “Threatening your friend with system rules saves my bullets. As for you—if you don’t switch to purple my people will blow your brains out. Well? Move.”
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