Chapter 22: Phantom of the Past
With her familiars close by, Xu Zhi didn’t need to issue commands through the game console. So when she saw the man panicking and trying to flee, she simply called out to Yi. The black serpent lurking in the shadows seemed to sense her will and appeared at the entrance to block his escape.
Sometimes, it wasn’t just Xu Zhi who could sense the emotions of her familiars—her familiars, too, seemed able to pick up on her thoughts and feelings. This created a remarkable synchronicity between them.
The man grew visibly terrified at the sudden appearance of the serpent. The snake, far beyond his understanding, left him momentarily speechless. Only when Yi coiled around him and dragged him into the cafeteria did he begin to struggle, though futilely.
Xu Zhi kept a close eye on the man’s condition. She noticed that the more his body came into contact with the red flesh and blood scattered throughout the cafeteria, the more the black threads in his eyes intensified. By the time he reached the center of the room, he had lost all traces of human awareness—his eyes had turned fully black. He had become another madman.
But as a “newborn,” his combat ability was far inferior to those who had lingered in the school. Even with his hands unbound, he was completely incapable of harming Yi.
Seeing that he had fully succumbed, Xu Zhi no longer hesitated. With a simple squeeze, Yi crushed the man to death.
What concerned Xu Zhi more than the man’s death was that the flesh on the ground, even after several hours, showed no signs of drying or darkening. It was as fresh as if it had just been ripped from a human body.
Suppressing her nausea, she knelt down to examine the severed limbs. Aside from the clear signs that they had been violently torn apart, she noticed that some of them bore deep triangle-shaped carvings, like those made by a small blade. The wounds were deep, but due to the blood covering everything, they were easy to miss at first glance.
“Do these symbols mean something?”
Xu Zhi didn’t know the answer—but she had a “cheat” that probably did.
After thoroughly surveying the scene and confirming she’d gathered enough information, she opened the game console.
Sometimes the narrator wouldn’t offer information unless she first discovered certain clues or touched on specific details.
Sure enough, the narrator appeared the moment the game booted up.
[You seem to be growing accustomed to this new life, yet change is ever-present. What have you uncovered this time?]
[Ah, phantoms of the old days.]
[Mysterious symbols. Ancient and brutal rituals. People lost to madness, yearning and calling for something.]
[They are the most fanatical of the Red Chalice cult’s believers—zealots who long to resurrect the glory of the past and return to days long gone.]
[Unfortunately…]
[What you see is but one form of an ancient ritual. The old knowledge has long been lost, and this rite is no different—fragmented, powerless, and devoid of spirit.]
[Even so, it is not something mortals should gaze upon. One glance is enough to plunge the weak-willed into madness.]
[Beware. The thing this ritual seeks to summon is not something you can currently contend with.]
[But worry not—at this scale, not even a projection of it can manifest. They haven’t figured out the proper method… yet.]
This time, the narrator spoke at unusual length, which made Xu Zhi realize she may have stumbled upon something truly important.
“Do I need to destroy this stuff?” she asked after the narrator went silent.
[Without fresh offerings, the rite is already withering. By morning, it will have lost all vitality. If you’re concerned, destroy the symbols carved into the remains.]
“So those madmen—no, those zealots—set up a crude trap just to supply this ritual with fresh flesh?”
The narrator didn’t respond, but Xu Zhi felt that must be the case.
While their bloodlust was undeniable, there was no reason to gather people just to slaughter them. Likely, the goal was twofold: to satisfy that urge, and more importantly, to feed the ritual.
In fact, the ritual might have been the primary objective. That bespectacled man even went as far as to restrain the mindless zealots from killing too soon.
“Destroy the symbols on the limbs,” Xu Zhi ordered her familiars.
It was a simple task for them. Yi crushed the body parts into pulp with a sweep of its coils, and Gouzi slashed through the markings with a single swipe of its claw.
Once the place had been thoroughly destroyed and the narrator remained silent, Xu Zhi led her two familiars out.
There wasn’t enough time left in the day to send them out for another 7-hour hunting session. One issue with the current system was that once the auto-hunt function was enabled, it could only run in strict 7-hour blocks. It was rigid and clunky, and Xu Zhi hoped the next upgrade would improve on that.
People are never satisfied. At first, she’d thought the auto-hunt feature was perfect. Now, she found it too restrictive. Why couldn’t the game be just a bit more ideal?
Since sending them out wasn’t an option, and they were already out and about, Xu Zhi decided to make a quick detour to the bookstore.
There were plenty of bookstores near the secondary school. Xu Zhi picked a well-known chain.
After the incident in Cloud City, all stores had shuttered. The bookstore was locked, but that wasn’t a problem for someone with familiars. After breaking in, she tested putting a random book into the game’s storage—and it worked. But each book took up a whole slot.
She did the math. She had only 30 inventory slots, not enough for too many books. Luckily, she had two “porters.” She could stuff the books into bags and have them carry them instead.
After nearly two hours of searching, Xu Zhi brought back around 80 books.
“At this pace, it’ll take at least two months to read all these.”
Back at home, surrounded by books, she muttered to herself.
That was the optimistic estimate. Her comprehension and memory were far better than before, but she couldn’t count on being left in peace to read. Who knew when the next crisis would arise?
That night, as midnight approached, Xu Zhi and her familiars fell into slumber. Though her body remained somewhat frail, her mind had become far stronger than that of ordinary people. Five hours of sleep was enough to keep her sharp all day. Even extended periods of intense reading didn’t mentally fatigue her.
She had come to realize her strength likely didn’t lie in close-quarters combat.
As she drifted off, her only lingering thought was about tomorrow: she planned to use one of the cores to craft a new spiritual body. But the only usable cores she had were one of the [Heart] attribute and several of the Cup type.
Would entering a Cup-aligned spirit body affect her personally? That question gave her slight pause—but not enough to stop her.
So far, the game console had never deceived her. She was willing to take the risk.
She could give 7 hour orders like hunt for 5 hours and come back home