Chapter 146: Memories of the Wax Museum (Part 5)

Chapter 146: Memories of the Wax Museum (Part 5)

Not to mention Li Qiulang, who was directly addressed by name, even the players like Qi Chanyang were stunned for a moment. By the time they regained their senses, a scream was heard, followed by Li Qiulang being smashed into the pile of wax figures, turning into a beam of white light, disappearing before everyone.

"Damn... what are you doing?!" One of the six "players" couldn't help but curse.

Jie Fangcheng just turned his head to look at him.

"I knew something was amiss."

The "player" who spoke was stunned for a moment, and the next second followed in Li Qiulang's footsteps.

In the eyes of the onlookers, it seemed as if both were killed by Jie Fangcheng himself. In reality, to differentiate between killing them himself and letting the real instance NPCs kill them, Jie Fangcheng held his sword high and struck hard, but slightly shifted the blade to its backside when striking down, hitting them away with the back of the sword.

This move was subtle, even the two who were struck didn't notice anything amiss. Upon landing, they only felt a disintegrating pain all over, before being transported out of the game.

The departure of the two individuals in beams of white light drastically changed the faces of the remaining four "players".

Others left corpses when they died, but only they vanished in a flash of white light when they died, a clear indication that something was off.

What did the NPC mean by "I knew something was amiss"? Do they know they are "players"?

Jie Fangcheng's cleaning plan hadn't stopped. After downing two individuals, he gracefully swirled his giant sword, creating a flower pattern with it, then turned around and charged at the other four individuals.

The four unarmed individuals were panic-stricken, creating a mess, while at this moment, the players finally snapped back to reality.

Liu and Qing promptly stepped in front of the four individuals.

"What are you trying to do?!”

Jie Fangcheng is a heavy hitter, a titan, the top player in the game; everyone fears him. However, these six player NPCs are essential for them to complete the instance. Surely even Jie Fangcheng can't just barge in and kill these critical NPCs without reason, can he?

Yet, Jie Fangcheng only responded calmly, “I suspect we are trapped in a game, becoming NPCs in it, and these people are rather odd.”

His words only served to confuse everyone even further.

Zhang Dao'an had deduced the situation of this instance not long after entering: their roles had been swapped. They had now become NPCs in some game, and these six NPCs were the actual players in that game.

Everyone was already aware of this scenario, so what was the point of Jie Fangcheng emphasizing it?

What was the point indeed…

The faces of the remaining four player NPCs changed dramatically in unison.

How did they find out?

What is this, an NPC awakening of consciousness?

After uttering that sentence, seemingly completing his mission, Jie Fangcheng circumvented the stunned Liu and Qing standing protectively in front of the four individuals, and swung his sword. The four of them were sent flying simultaneously.

The surrounding wax figures pounced like a pack of hyenas towards the direction where those individuals had fallen.

A flash of white light.

The entire first floor hall fell silent, with only the distant discontented growls of the wax figures who had lost their prey before even managing a few bites.

"What… what exactly are you trying to accomplish?" Liu and Qing murmured, breaking the silence.

Just after these “players” perished, a scene reminiscent of a game-over screen suddenly materialized before everyone.

Their pupils were engulfed by a blood-red backdrop, as several lines of text appeared before them.

【Unfortunately, your team failed to clear the instance this time.】

【You failed to obtain crucial evidence in the game [True Wax Museum], unable to unveil the secrets of the wax museum, and did not meet the minimum requirements to initiate the next main storyline.】

【You have acquired the achievement: Sudden Death (attainable if death occurs within three hours of game entry) in the game [True Wax Museum].】

【You did not secure the achievement: Survive until Dawn in the game [True Wax Museum].】

【You did not secure the achievement: Destroy the Evidence in the game [True Wax Museum].】

【You did not secure the achievement: Conceal the Evidence in the game [True Wax Museum].】

……

【You did not achieve the "Isolated and Unsupported" accomplishment in the game [Real Wax Museum] (NPCs remaining: 10+2).】

Seeing the final unachieved accomplishment, Jie Fangcheng lifted his head to look at Zhang Dao'an beside him,

Zhang Dao'an's expression remained as usual.

To put it plainly, Zhang Dao'an's thought process was rather simple: these player NPCs, relying on their ability to respawn endlessly without any penalties upon death, had entered the game with a playful and unserious mentality, adopting a cavalier attitude towards everything around them.

For them, the game was just that, a game. But for Jie Fangcheng and other infinite-loop players, death within the game was final; there was no concept of resurrection.

It was too unpredictable to foresee what kind of actions these "players" devoid of death penalties might undertake.

What if they suddenly found the boiler room interesting? Since they wouldn't truly die, they might just dive straight in, right? What if they found the game intriguing after completing it and wished to start over?

For them, death was merely a prelude to a fresh start with the flick of a finger.

If death in the game had always been so trivial to them, they wouldn't take the game seriously; they'd act recklessly, not following the game's intended path at all.

This was fatal for the infinite-loop players like them, and what Jie Fangcheng was doing was escalating their death penalties.

Agony!

Death in the game wasn't painful, but Jie Fangcheng's attacks targeted the soul. As long as the soul existed, his attacks would be eternally effective.

They had to make these people realize that this game wasn't like the others where death came without penalties.

In other words, they needed to be beaten until they feared death, urged to complete the game quickly, not wanting to revisit it.

Only in this way could they ensure that these players wouldn't replay the game for bizarre reasons.

The doubts about what Zhang Dao'an and Jie Fangcheng were planning became clearer to many players upon witnessing the present scene of unachieved accomplishments.

"What does the last one, [Isolated and Unsupported], mean...? Does it imply that to achieve this, we all have to die?" someone murmured.

Hearing this, a wave of cold sweat broke out among the crowd.

If they followed the current instance hints step by step to unravel the secrets of the wax museum... could they truly succeed in completing it?

Even if they achieved what they perceived as the perfect ending, would it be considered "perfect" from the perspective of those player NPCs?

With so many accomplishments yet to be achieved, wouldn't the player NPCs feel unsatisfied, restarting the game without having attained them? Would they continue to cycle through this instance again and again, just like real NPCs, until death?

Was this truly the difficulty level of a public instance? How could normal players possibly realize that they were inside another person's game?

After the six player NPCs exited the instance, the surrounding wax figures also ceased movement.

"What should we do?" someone asked apprehensively, "Are we about to enter another cycle immediately? How can we successfully complete this instance?"

Qi Chanyang was also momentarily shocked, then looked at Zhang Dao'an and Jie Fangcheng beside him, both of whom were extraordinarily composed.

Of course, Zhang Dao'an's calmness stemmed from anticipation, his lack of urgency was because he had already devised a strategy to complete the instance.

Jie Fangcheng's composure largely stems from Jing Daoan's tranquillity.

With that brain of his, could there be any possibility he hasn't figured out a way to clear the level?

The calm demeanour of the two to some extent influenced the surrounding players, who, after a brief panic, began to ponder on other matters.

"Why hasn't it started yet? How long do we have to wait?"

"Since we have nothing better to do, why not look for clues? By the time of the next save... oh, we'll lose our memories during the next save, so is it useless to look for clues now?"

A few people were chattering and discussing, while Jing Daoan was silently navigating amongst the wax figures, pausing to study each one intently.

Jie Fangcheng was idly listening to a group of players transitioning from their initial exclamation of "this dungeon is so difficult" to later discussions of "I have a brother who owns a massage parlour with excellent techniques; let's go there together after exiting the dungeon."

The blood-red screen remained persistent in front of the players, initially causing unease and anxiety, yet observing the boss of the game nonchalantly sitting there, supporting his chin with his hand, sometimes even yawning out of boredom, his relaxed posture hardly resembled someone in a dungeon but more of a backbencher in college, seemingly about to doze off.

His formidable power coupled with an apparently amicable temperament soon redirected the players' conversations towards him.

Some flattered, commenting "Boss, you're incredibly powerful, that unique green light is spectacular"; some tried to curry favour by mentioning "I have a brother who is a part of Ronghua, called so-and-so, do you know him, boss?"; and others offered sincere suggestions, "Boss, I know someone who's great at customizing clothes, they can cover the light on your outfit with material dye, or even change the color if you like... oh, you prefer the green?"

Initially, Jie Fangcheng engaged in small talk, but soon felt as uncomfortable as an introvert forced into team-building activities and decided to join Jing Daoan in exploring the wax exhibit.

As Jie Fangcheng approached, Jing Daoan was staring intently at a wax figure resembling an elderly man.

The wax figures were indeed lifelike, with the elderly figure in front of them even having visible pores on the wax skin, gray synthetic hair, dressed in luxurious purple silk Chinese tunic suit, resembling a typical elder who might have just returned from a morning exercise in the park.

"Found anything?" Jie Fangcheng asked.

It was a casual inquiry, but surprisingly, Jing Daoan had indeed noticed something amiss.

"Look at his shoes."

Jie Fangcheng looked down.

The elderly figure, dressed richly, had shoes covered with considerable mud.

"The outfits of the wax figures here don't indicate poverty, yet the footwear of the younger ones remains pristine, whereas many of the older figures have mud-streaked shoes."

Hearing this, Jie Fangcheng also began inspecting the figures and found Jing Daoan's observation to be accurate.

"Also, these elders have calluses on their hands, and their skin condition suggests they might have engaged in agricultural work during their younger years. Moreover, there's a uniform preference in their clothing style; they favor silk garments. I noticed some elders even share the same brand of clothing."

Jie Fangcheng queried, "What does this imply?"

"It suggests that these elders likely hail from the same place," Jing Daoan hypothesized, gazing upwards, "I guess... they might belong to the same village as the assistant manager upstairs."

Although the conjecture seemed somewhat baseless, Jie Fangcheng knew from experience how terrifying Jing Daoan's "guesses" could be. Before verbalizing, Jing Daoan would have processed numerous possibilities, vocalizing only the most probable theory deduced after careful deliberation.

"Shall we check the second floor?" Jing Daoan suggested.

"Sure."

Saying this, the two made their way towards the second floor through the crowd of wax figures.

Although the people on the first floor were chatting, their attention remained firmly on the two individuals.

Seeing them heading upstairs, several others also rose to their feet.

"Big brother, are you guys going upstairs to find clues?"

Once we return, it's going to reset anyway, and we will lose our memory. What's the use of finding clues then?

Does the big boss have some different method up his sleeve?

Everyone was still very curious about how the big boss plans to clear the level; at this moment, they also followed suit and headed upstairs.

The second floor.

As soon as they stepped onto the staircase leading to the second floor, someone couldn't help but wave their hand in front of their nose.

"What is that smell?"

It was an indescribable stench, like something had been soaking in water for a long time and then fished out again.

The smell wasn't overpowering. While they were on the first floor, the prevalent scent was that of the wax, but now that they had reached the second floor, this new odor hit them.

The second floor housed six rooms in total. Two of them were locked. Before inviting Xie Fangcheng and the other to come in, Qi Chanyang and a few players had sneakily unlocked and checked these rooms while the assistant manager was not paying attention.

There wasn't anything special, just some clutter, old clothes, and old furniture. The unlocked room stored common tools used for making wax figures, with boxes filled mostly with wigs in the corner.

Of the remaining rooms, two were bedrooms - one belonging to the assistant manager and the other to the store manager, whom they hadn't yet met.

Another room was a workspace where the assistant manager constantly stayed. When he opened and closed the door, Qi Chanyang caught glimpses of what seemed like a study, with a large table and apparently, a refrigerator.

The foul odor emanated from this workspace.

Upon reaching the door, Xie Fangcheng, without any lock-picking tools, kicked the door of the workspace open decisively.

A burst of strong, nauseating odor instantly engulfed the entire wax museum, accompanied by a chilling draft.

Pale light streamed from the now-broken door, and as people took in the sight inside, they couldn't help but step back involuntarily.

"Damn!!"

Inside the room, the assistant manager sat motionless on a low stool, the flashlight he constantly held set aside by his feet.

His head slightly lowered, his rigid face held a soft, even benign smile as he gazed at the "person" in his arms.

It was the decaying corpse of a young girl, about ten years old, freshly removed from the refrigerator.

The little girl lay cradled in his arms, her rotting flesh partially covered with wax, the coagulated wax shell revealing glimpses of discolored decay underneath. Her body was pallid, with seams visible at her limb joints and neck, as if she was a doll that had been pieced back together. Dressed in a lovely red floral dress, she lay serenely in the assistant manager's embrace, her expression tranquil, as if immersed in a sweet, naive dream.

Under the pallid glow of the light, an elderly man cradles a little girl in his arms, their figures leaning on one another, creating an oddly serene and tender tableau—if one could overlook the fact that the girl was dead, and the old man was nearing his end.

Zhang Daoan glanced at them before his gaze drifted downwards.

"She is thawing."

Xie Fangcheng also cast his eyes to the ground.

Drip, drip.

In this otherwise frozen reality, the iced-over body of the little girl seemed to be the only thing yielding to time, as viscous liquid mingled with yellowish fats slowly dripped from her.

Hearing Zhang Daoan's words, everyone instinctively stepped back, except for Xie Fangcheng, who took a step forward instead.

Unperturbed by the stench pervading the air, he approached the ghastly corpse, crouching down to observe the little girl up close.

Eventually, her tightly shut eyelids began to lift, revealing a pair of eyes rolled back, exposing whites marred by a network of blue veins.

With rigid movements, the girl turned her head to "look" at Xie Fangcheng, her hand reaching out stiffly as if intending to seize his throat.

Faced with this horrifying sight, Xie Fangcheng could only sigh.

He reached out, gently laying his hand over the young girl's eyelids.

"You've suffered enough."

Two streams of fatty, yellow tears seeped from her eyes, accompanied by a distant cry that seemed to echo with a tinge of anguish and resentment.

When Xie Fangcheng removed his hand, the little girl slipped back into a deep slumber.

Zhang Daoan handed him a handkerchief, which he used to wipe away the liquid that had adhered to his hands.

Those gathered around exchanged uneasy glances.

Unable to hold back his curiosity, Qi Chanyang asked, "What just happened??"

The usually nonchalant Xie Fangcheng remained somewhat silent this time, simply shaking his head in response.

"Let's look for clues."

Since getting to know him, Qi Chanyang had always found Xie Fangcheng to be an expert in idleness, capable of merriment, food, and sleep—a true master of drifting through life, driving the meticulous and serious Qi Chanyang nearly mad with his inherent lax nature.

For the first time, Qi Chanyang felt a pervasive and suffocating heaviness emanating from him.

Yet, in the next moment, that feeling seemed like a fleeting illusion as Xie Fangcheng, who suggested that everyone should start looking for clues, settled into a chair, reverting to his usual languid demeanor.

Qi Chanyang: "..."

Zhang Daoan turned his head to look at Xie Fangcheng, his eyes swirling with unspoken thoughts. However, when Xie Fangcheng met his gaze, he quickly averted his eyes once more.

The workspace was not extensive, adorned with nothing but commonplace tools scattered across the table. At a glance, it was evident that there were no significant clues to be found here.

Everyone began a meticulous search across the room, resembling a sweep over a carpet. Shortly, someone discovered a hefty bundle of grid paper used for writing practice.

This stack of grid paper resembled those found earlier in the deputy manager's bedroom, evidently purchased in the same batch.

However, upon flipping it open, the handwriting within deviated drastically from the deputy manager's neat script. The letters were askew and uneven, some strokes heavy while others were light, clearly the work of a genuine child.

Notably, at the start of each page, there existed a column graced by the deputy manager's handwriting.

The elderly individual had conscientiously penned down a sample character in the opening grid of each page, intended as a reference for the child's imitation. The child's efforts, albeit not sophisticated, bore an unmistakable earnestness, each character meticulously crafted. Some grids showed signs of fervent erasing, perhaps to correct a mistake and rewrite.

Could the author be the child embraced by the elderly figure?

It was unclear how much time had been devoted to this handwriting practice, but it had accumulated into a considerable pile of grid papers.

Eventually, amidst the numerous pages, the handwriting of a different individual emerged.

It was seemingly the manager's handwriting, sophisticated and aesthetically pleasing, indicative of formal training.

He had filled nearly half the booklet with exemplary characters, a gesture that held an almost decree-like reverence to the illiterate grandfather and grandchild, preserved meticulously with tape.

A semblance of a broader narrative seemed to be unfolding from these findings.

A tale of a grandfather devoid of literacy striving to survive with his granddaughter, finding sanctuary and education under the benevolence of a wax museum manager.

Yet, what transpired subsequently to leave the young girl in such a state?

As the group continued their search, Zong Daoan approached the peacefully reclining grandfather and child, directing his gaze towards the deputy manager's neckline.

There seemed to be a necklace hanging there.

Zong Daoan reached out.

With a swift "swish", his hand was suddenly scratched, leaving the usually astute professor momentarily stunned, retracting his hand in a reflexive jerk.

The little girl, who had been resting serenely in the old man's embrace, opened her eyes once more, glaring menacingly at him with sharp, bared teeth, akin to a protective puppy guarding its owner.

Jie Fangcheng, who had been seated all along, exclaimed in alarm, rushing to inspect Zong Daoan's wounded hand.

The young spirit met a gruesome end, now a malevolent entity. The scratch left a profound gash, deep enough to reveal the bone beneath, blood oozing ceaselessly.

Zong Daoan, however, remained stoic, his expression unchanged. Yet when he consumed a healing potion, the wound displayed no signs of mending.

This was to be expected... considering Jie Fangcheng personally knew this restless spirit, having been the one to send her to the underworld.

"Look at you, acting so impulsively," he remarked.

It was unclear whom Jie Fangcheng was addressing. He gently patted Zong Daoan's bleeding hand, managing to staunch the blood flow, though the wound persisted.

"There's no helping it; you'll have to heal naturally. Medicines won't work," he explained. "Her attack is akin to mine, targeting the soul directly, rendering external interventions ineffective."

After tending to the wound, Jie Fangcheng gently tapped the female ghost on her head.

"What are you doing? Daring to act up while I'm here? Be careful, or you might not even get to be a ghost!"

His status should have bestowed upon him considerable deterrent power. Yet, the little ghost looked at him, blinked, and then shut her eyes again.

Jie Fangcheng sighed and reached to remove the necklace from the deputy manager's neck, passing it to Jing Dao'an.

"You wanted this?"

Jing Dao'an accepted it, humming in affirmation as he examined the necklace, his mind seemingly elsewhere.

"You recognize her?"

Jie Fangcheng scratched his head, glancing left and right before coughing softly.

"Kind of," he muttered, leaning closer to Jing Dao'an, whispering, "Don't judge this little ghost too harshly. She's man-made, just a weapon. A lot of the sins shouldn't be attributed to her."

Jing Dao'an nodded, "Manager Jie had a moment of compassion, sparing her life?"

"Not exactly. Letting her wander would cause trouble sooner or later... It's quite complex. For now, she's like an undocumented resident of the netherworld," Jie explained, his brow furrowing and then relaxing, "It seems she was summoned as an assistant by the Book of Life and Death, although I don't know why she didn't become a player like Lang Gu, but rather an NPC of the instance."