Chapter 5 Who Am I 4

Lin Xiangjun couldn't help but size up the man in the hoodie again with a look of surprise.

"When he was about to hit me, you were nowhere to be seen. Now you jump out to play the good guy? Is your sense of justice intermittent?"

"You!"

"Hey, I'm right here." Lin Xiangjun waved her hand dismissively, as if she had touched something filthy. "Don't shout so loud, or you'll call that security guard back over here in a moment."

The incident where the security guard ate someone's arm raw had clearly had a massive impact on Zhuo Xing. Upon hearing the words 'security guard', he subconsciously shrank his neck.

"However, I'll definitely feel a bit guilty, so I'll open a bottle of champagne to commemorate him after I get out." Lin Xiangjun pointed a finger at him. "No need to be envious. If you're gone too, I'll open red wine to commemorate you."

"Red wine is more expensive," Lin Xiangjun emphasized.

What was that supposed to mean? Was she saying he'd be getting a better deal?

Zhuo Xing wanted to argue back, but the rule against swearing was a major handicap for any argument. Plus, Lin Xiangjun had no interest in humoring him and had already turned to walk toward Building 1. His words got stuck in his throat.

"Forget it, don't chase after her." Aunt Wang grabbed Zhuo Xing's arm, stopping him from rushing after her in his anger.

She glanced at Lin Xiangjun's departing back and lowered her voice. "She was looking at this bulletin board for a long time just now. There should be information we can use on it. Let's look at it first."

"Aunt Wang." Zhuo Xing did have a brain after all, and he quickly regained his composure after being held back. He knew that if he rushed up in an emotional state to argue, it would be easy to lose control and swear. He took a deep breath and turned to look at the bulletin board instead.

They were in a ghost story now; survival was the priority.

"She's not the important one right now." Aunt Wang felt relieved seeing Zhuo Xing calm down. She wasn't highly educated, but she wasn't a fool either; she knew Zhuo Xing was just emotionally unstable from the fright. "The most important thing right now is that ghost story thing you mentioned. We have to find a way out, right? We can't end up like Sun Tao."

"You don't want to lose an arm or a leg for no reason, do you? That would be a lifelong disability!"

Zhuo Xing shuddered at Aunt Wang's emphasized tone.

That's right. Sun Tao hadn't looked at the rules or searched for clues; he had just said one swear word, and then both his arms were gone.

Zhuo Xing looked back. The armless Sun Tao was lying on the ground, half-dead. Beside him, the old security guard stood with his hands behind his back. Sun Tao's right hand, which hadn't been finished yet, was stuffed into his pocket, with a long section sticking out.

The arm had only recently been torn off, so the nerves were still twitching. The fingers jerked rhythmically, as if someone were reaching out of the guard's pocket to beg for help.

He shivered violently.

Sun Tao had lost both arms and couldn't even maintain basic balance; he definitely wouldn't survive.

That old man reminded him of a photograph he had seen long ago: a vulture standing next to a starving African child, just waiting for the child to die so it could swoop in and feast on the corpse.

Sun Tao would eventually be eaten clean, bite by bite. He himself was aware of his fate; his face, pale from pain, was full of despair as he looked at them with a plea for help.

"Sa... save..."

Save him? Who could save him?

The old security guard seemed to sense something and followed Sun Tao's gaze to look at Zhuo Xing.

There was a greed for food in that smiling gaze, like an amphibian lying in wait in a muddy ditch—cold and damp.

Zhuo Xing shuddered again and hurriedly looked away.

"Right, we have to find the clues."

Zhuo Xing muttered to himself twice.

He had collected quite a bit of information before coming in, so he naturally knew that gathering clues was the key to breaking the situation and leaving.

Panic was only temporary; the desire to survive would always prevail.

He looked back once more at Sun Tao, who lay on the ground between life and death, and the vulture-like old guard standing beside him, then turned his head to look at the residential area ahead.

Wang Zixuan, who had been hiding in silence, grabbed the middle-aged woman's arm as if catching a lifeline: "Aunt Wang, what do you think we should do?"

Aunt Wang didn't know either.

But Wang Zixuan was just a teenager, so it was normal for him to be afraid. She could only pat his shoulder reassuringly and try her best to comfort him: "There must be a way. Let's go in first and take it one step at a time."

While the three of them were busy comforting and encouraging each other, Lin Xiangjun had already reached the bottom of the building.

Before she even entered, the old red-painted gate opened with a creak, revealing the empty, pitch-black hallway behind it, looking just like the gaping maw of some monster.

When she took a step forward and got close to the entrance, she could feel the cold, musty wind blowing out of the hallway.

She didn't rush in blindly. Instead, she cautiously scanned her surroundings. After confirming no one was around, she pulled her cards out from her crotch.

This action was a bit unseemly, but Lin Xiangjun had no choice.

The bottoms of a cycling suit are very form-fitting, so any foreign object feels very prominent. When she first woke up, she felt something hard in her crotch. At that time, her heart had nearly stopped, thinking that entering the instance had somehow shortened her chromosomes.

Later, once she calmed down, she took advantage of a moment when no one was looking to feel around. Only then did she realize it wasn't some extra body part, but the offerings she had burned for herself earlier.

In the original novel, it was written that offerings appeared in the female lead's pocket as Tribute Cards. However, Lin Xiangjun was wearing a short-sleeved top and cycling bottoms—she didn't have a single pocket or bag on her. The game had no choice but to stuff them in her crotch.

It was a bit vulgar.

With mixed emotions, Lin Xiangjun flipped through the pile of Tribute Cards.

The cards were mostly similar: black backgrounds with a white dividing line in the middle, a picture of the offering on the right, and a description on the left.

She couldn't tell if it was because they were cheap or what, but the text was white and the offering pictures were just a few white lines. Although the drawing technique was superb and the overall look fit the aesthetics of the eerie world, Lin Xiangjun still had to call it stingy.

The pile of cards could be roughly divided into four types: a Black Gold Debit Card containing all her underworld currency, paper figurine cards, item cards, and Tribute Cards.

Her luck was decent. Out of the six hundred and twenty-three paper figures she sent out, they brought back a total of one hundred and twenty-three item cards of various grades. Among them, there were three of the highest 'SS' grade. The remaining five hundred were all paper figurine cards with their heads bowed low.

Burning paper figures had three possible outcomes.

First, the paper figure successfully finds an item and safely returns it to her. Once the item is delivered, the paper figure itself dissipates, leaving behind an item card.

Second, the paper figure fails to find an item but encounters no accidents while searching or returning. In this case, the paper figure becomes a paper figurine card. When used, it provides a paper figure servant. These servants aren't very strong and can be damaged, but they are obedient and loyal, making them convenient for daily chores.

Third, the paper figure fails to find an item and meets with an accident during the search or return. It might have gone to a dangerous place and been torn apart by something eerie, or it might have been robbed while bringing an item back. Either way, the body is damaged to the point it lacks the strength to return. In this case, there is neither an item card nor a paper figurine card; the master gets nothing.

This time Lin Xiangjun's luck was good. The paper figures that didn't bring back items weren't lost either; after a bit of tidying up, they could continue working for her.

There were one hundred and twenty-three item cards, five hundred paper figurine cards, and several Tribute Cards, divided into three piles. There was also a bank card, which was the most important, so Lin Xiangjun gripped it directly in her hand.

She briefly flipped through the one hundred and twenty-three item cards and almost laughed out of anger.

Powerful? This was it?

"A clump of hair that can never be cleaned up," "A rusty screwdriver," "A banana peel that is 100% guaranteed to make you slip"...

Most of the items were C-rank, meaning they were basically useless but carried a bit of an eerie attribute. They were pure white elephants—useless to keep but a pity to throw away.

There were only about ten item cards that were actually usable and helpful.

Unbelievable.