Nighttime is hell-level, daytime is beginner-level.
After enduring a night of torment, the players were all on the verge of collapse. Zhao Tiezhu was so tired he could barely keep his eyes open, while Sun Goudan was still dazed and hadn't fully recovered. Zheng Dajuan's condition was fairly decent—she provided the second-lowest amount of emotional value, with the lowest being Zhao Tiezhu. After last night's cycle of dream loops, Wang Erma had become numb; specifically, he couldn't stand to see anything in black, gray, or red. As for Li Cuihua…
She was completely drained. Most of the items she'd purchased were already used up, and her fear and hatred of bugs had deepened. She could never forget the sensation of stepping on them, nor the nausea and despair of being surrounded by a swarm. Even though it had only been an illusion, and she hadn't been pulled back into it after waking up, she still couldn't sleep—tormented by nightmares of insects. Even now, while talking with the other players, she couldn't help but stay alert, watching the ground around her, always feeling like a bug might crawl out at any moment.
"Tomorrow… tomorrow we have to clear it," Li Cuihua murmured in a daze. "If we fail again tomorrow and have to keep waiting… I'll kill myself."
Bugs, bugs—she could endure one night, even two, but only if there was hope of clearing the game on the third day! If she really had to go through seven days of this… God help her—she'd rather pay 500 points to escape it.
"They're just bugs, aren't they? You said it's all an illusion—can't you just pretend they don't exist?" Zhao Tiezhu couldn't understand.
Li Cuihua glared at him. "Then you switch with me."
"Huh? You can switch that kind of thing? If you really can, then sure, let's switch. What's so scary about bugs?" Zhao Tiezhu thought. As a kid, he'd caught all kinds of insects—real ones. Compared to that, ghosts and supernatural stuff were definitely scarier!
Sitting before the screen, Mu Anqi nodded slightly. "Then let's switch it up. Increase the difficulty of the second night a bit. Oh, and switch around the other players' nighttime trials too—otherwise, if they get used to last night's illusion, we won't be able to squeeze much emotional value out of them tonight." Since the story's timeline had been shortened, every second had to count to maximize emotional extraction.
As for the daytime… the players still needed time to rest and recover. If they were constantly terrified, they'd grow numb or reckless, which would actually make it harder to draw out their emotions. After each round of squeezing, giving the players a buffer period to recover would ensure that the next round yielded emotions in full force!
"Killing the evil spirits is actually pretty easy—you just have to endure until it's over…" Mu Anqi let out a deep sigh. Of course, before the players even encountered the evil spirits, they would be forced to participate in a "social death performance" mixer, organized by an "NPC" who refused to reveal their name, wore a black-and-white mask, and was completely shrouded in a black cloak. There was absolutely no physical danger—though it might wound their fragile hearts and nerves that couldn't take any more torment.
Still, after experiencing the first night, the players would definitely be filled with dread for the nights to come. They might even develop an exaggerated perception of the final boss, the "Mountain God." Who knew what kind of expression they'd have when they actually went up the mountain and discovered that clearing the level only required performing a few acts and then killing the evil spirit? Either way, clearing the level would surely yield another wave of "speechless" emotions from them.
"No one should die, right? It's all just psychological damage…" Mu Anqi thought hesitantly. If Wu Sansheng were to enter this instance, she'd be absolutely unbeatable.
"The players don't know your setup," Ji Huaichu said softly, twirling a strand of Mu Anqi's hair between his fingers. "You didn't leave them any clues to understand the dungeon. They can only passively accept everything that happens, bearing greater mental and emotional pressure."
Mu Anqi fell silent. She imagined herself inside this game and realized that the revised version was even more infuriating than the "Drama of Fate" created by the Dramatist before. Ah, if she were thrown into that insect illusion…
"I have to buy some mental protection items!" Mu Anqi shuddered. "As soon as this game ends, I'm going back to the Nirvana Space to get them! And I'm buying incendiary bottles too!"
Who knew if there might be some ghost obsessed with insects or one skilled in crafting disgusting illusions lurking in the Black Mirror Vortex?
Ji Huaichu patted Mu Anqi's back to comfort her.
Meanwhile, the players in the game still wanted to uncover information about the Mountain God's marriage or what had once happened in this village—but unfortunately, they found nothing. Dramatist watched the players rack their brains trying to gather intel and, for once, fell into rare silence. After a moment, she murmured, "I'll refine the story and background after the game ends…"
At the very least, she needed to leave the players some clues. Hmm… perhaps she could add a female ghost modeled after her, wandering the village—even appearing during the day. Whether the players could discover the clues would then depend on their own actions.
It would be best not to place the Mountain God's purified divine water on the mountain anymore—better to make it something the players could find a way to obtain themselves. A Mountain God temple could be set up in the village, where players would have to pass several trials and then defeat the boss guarding the temple to obtain the divine water and cleanse the pollution. That way, the players would explore more of the game and the playtime would be extended.
Ah, but her current energy wasn't quite enough. She'd wait until this game ended, check the evaluations, and then decide whether to make the changes right away. If her energy still wasn't sufficient… she could just run a few more games first to accumulate some.
Dramatist wanted to keep improving the game—creating a drama that was both profitable and engaging, ideally one that could clearly depict the threads of fate. But for now, her abilities were limited, and so were the ideas in her mind. She carefully glanced at Ji Huaichu; General Ji had mentioned before that if the game performed well, she would be given a token allowing her to enter other ghosts' games to gain experience and learn from them. To be honest, she was really looking forward to that.
The happy, warm, and safe daytime eventually passed.
Zheng Dajuan sighed and slowly walked home. No matter what happened tonight, she was determined to rest well—after all, tomorrow would be the key to clearing the game. If tonight turned out not to be an illusion but an actual ghost attack… then she'd just accept her fate.
Her intuition told her that tonight's scenario wouldn't be the same as last night's. After all, given the game's twisted sense of humor… if the players encountered the same illusion every night, they'd soon become resistant to it. Since it was an illusion, no matter what she faced, she just needed to stay calm and respond with composure.
After an utterly ordinary dinner, Zheng Dajuan diligently washed the dishes, boiled some water, and did a simple wash-up before returning to her room to rest. She lay on the bed; the night was long and silent. She wanted to fall asleep but couldn't, only managing to half-sleep in a state of clear awareness.
The endless darkness enveloped her—and then she began to hear sounds outside the house. It sounded like scuffling, or perhaps someone pacing back and forth. Zheng Dajuan's face remained calm, wearing an expression of "peaceful sleep," completely unmoved.
The faint noises outside grew louder, as if an argument had broken out. She heard the sound of a vase shattering, furniture overturning—and then came a girl's crying and a sharp scream. The angry shouting grew even louder, and the woman's and child's cries became more and more heart-wrenching—
They were the sounds from her memories.
Zheng Dajuan opened her eyes, staring blankly at the ceiling. After taking a deep breath, she turned over and closed her eyes again. That memory was indeed the nightmare of her childhood—something that ignited her deepest anger and resentment. She had always been furious yet silent, submitting to violence. Over time, she grew numb, becoming even more resentful toward her mother while also hating herself for her own helplessness.
It continued… until she grew up, until that night when the man came home drunk, and because her mother had been a little slow to greet him, he began to beat her again. Whether it was the alcohol or something else, this time the man swung a liquor bottle—when the screams, tears, alcohol, and blood all mixed and flowed across the floor, the "Zheng Dajuan" standing hesitantly at the bedroom door suddenly became calm. Her whole life, it seemed, had nothing worth holding onto—no bright memories, no pink-hued crushes, not even a safe, carefree childhood. Her world was forever overcast, forever filled with arguments, crying, and violence.
The misfortune of her family made her unable to lift her head at school. She was insecure, timid, and lacked courage. She didn't know how to talk to her classmates, didn't even dare to speak loudly—because at home, that would earn her a beating. She was the most withdrawn one. But in that moment, just after receiving her university admission letter, "Zheng Dajuan" suddenly became utterly calm. She walked straight to the kitchen—her trembling hands and weak legs stopped shaking somewhere along those brief two minutes. She picked up two knives: a kitchen knife and a fruit knife.
She had never been so calm before. Holding the knife, she stepped out and saw her mother lift her head—her face beneath the disheveled hair was covered in blood. Zheng Dajuan couldn't make out her mother's expression, but it didn't matter. She raised the kitchen knife and brought it down hard on the man's neck, the man who had turned his back and seemed about to kick her fallen mother.
The blade struck the back of his neck. She wasn't very strong; the first swing barely made him react. A second later, he cried out in pain, reaching for the back of his head, trying to grab her. Zheng Dajuan didn't stop. Soon came the second strike, then another—until the man stopped resisting. Only then did she pick up the fruit knife.
She killed herself—after the man was well and truly dead. Calmly, she called the police and an ambulance for her mother. Even while waiting, she quietly wrote a "suicide note," simply stating the facts. When she held the pen, her hand trembled again, but her mind was clear and exhilarated. She wasn't afraid—she felt relief.
The dark clouds that had hung over her world finally dispersed, and under the sunlight, she met her death.
"It was a nightmare, and also a beautiful dream." Zheng Dajuan turned over and slowly drifted off to sleep. Outside the door, two indescribable monsters gradually faded away—and with them vanished the thick, lightless darkness of the night.
Zhao Tiezhu, who wasn't afraid of bugs, was jolted awake by a slick, icy sensation. Dazed, he lifted his hand—only to see an enormous, bloated leech clinging to his arm, sucking his blood. Terrified, he flung his arm violently, and a swarm of tiny black spiders tumbled out from his sleeve. He pushed himself up in bed with a jolt, his hand crushing countless small white eggs of unknown insects beneath his palm…