Chapter 22: Loss Of Control
“Besides that, the most important point.”
“After the sacrifice ends, absolutely do not go to the altar!”
“If you really encounter any weirdness, you can go to the ancestral hall to hide.”
Qu Xiang’s taboos aren’t many, but they can’t be considered few either; summed up, they are roughly: keep a low profile, stay quiet, don’t do unnecessary things, don’t go to places you shouldn’t.
The altar is very dangerous, the ancestral hall relatively safe.
“It doesn’t sound like very difficult things.”
After A Luo left, everyone sat together to summarize.
“Just, in A Luo’s mouth, the ancestral hall is a safe point—is this point credible?”
Lu Jinzhao looked at everyone’s expressions; clearly, they all had doubts about this.
“Perhaps the trap of this platform mission is right here.”
Altar and ancestral hall, huh.
“The altar only becomes dangerous after the sacrifice ends—should we go take a look now?”
“Indeed, just in case, let’s go take a look first now.”
Lu Jinzhao had no opinion on this; based on the clues obtained so far, the danger point of this mission should revolve around the sacrifice, and going ahead to understand the venue was not wrong.
On the way to the altar, she heard someone muttering:
“Do you think it might be the kind where normally the altar is safe and the ancestral hall is dangerous, but today it’s reversed?”
Not impossible.
Based on her observation of the ancestral hall, the accumulated dust wasn’t just one or two months’ worth; it could be concluded that normally no one was allowed in or out of this ancestral hall.
But this was just one of many possibilities.
Lu Jinzhao noted these possibilities one by one in her mind; this was her first time at a Class C platform, and currently it seemed that somewhat higher difficulty platform missions didn’t have dangers as straightforwardly displayed as in Class D instances, but required passengers to notice them themselves.
What she needed to do now was figure out as much as possible where the danger might come from.
Perhaps because the sacrifice was imminent, the villagers were especially cautious about this day; even in broad daylight, few human figures could be seen on the countryside paths.
Everyone was at home preparing for the evening sacrifice, probably also instructing the children not to go out casually.
It was called an altar, but it was actually just a temple at the rearmost part of the village.
The area seemed about the same size as the ancestral hall, guarded outside by two middle-aged men who looked forty or fifty, and occasionally people would go in and out carrying things, probably setting up something.
After simple communication, the man allowed them to enter the altar, but clearly warned not to touch the statue, not to damage any arrangements, and to leave after just looking for a bit.
While Lu Jinzhao was slightly sighing in her heart at how smoothly things were progressing—unexpectedly not blocked—at the moment she entered the altar and saw the so-called statue, she couldn’t help but frown.
The entire altar enshrined only one statue, located right in the center of the altar; however, unlike the tall statues normally found in temples, it looked about the same proportion as a real person.
Whether due to exquisitely skilled carving or some other reason, this statue had an overwhelmingly strong “living people” sense, even causing a certain uncanny valley effect, yet its facial features were somewhat weird.
An indescribable sense of disharmony, weirdness, made people who looked directly at it unable to help but want to look away.
Rather than calling it a statue, it was more like a ghost statue.
Weirdly distorted, ghostly aura.
No wonder it needed to be suppressed; this thing didn’t look like anything good at first glance.
After everyone entered the temple, they obediently didn’t touch the things inside, mostly observing with their eyes.
Lu Jinzhao noticed that the people setting up inside were also observing them; this wasn’t strange, after all, on the day of sacrifice, strangers coming to the village would pique anyone’s curiosity for a glance.
But among these ordinary villagers’ gazes, there seemed to follow a cold, extremely strong sense of presence, gaze that was utterly discomforting.
While Lu Jinzhao was observing the surroundings, she couldn’t help turning her head toward the source of the line of sight, but unexpectedly, with one turn of her head, she actually met eyes with that weird “statue.”
Lu Jinzhao’s heart jolted.
The statue—was looking at her?
Or rather, at them.
“This place… isn’t quite right.” She heard a companion whisper lowly: “Let’s get out after looking; I feel we can’t stay here long.”
It seemed not just her; others also felt this weird sensation of being watched.
After leaving the altar, the pink-haired girl Wei Ling affirmed: “Can confirm, the problem is with the altar, or rather that statue.”
“That thing is probably the ghost.”
Ye Jingyun, who had been by her side, had some doubts: “Then shouldn’t we not have entered the altar?”
Wei Ling shook her head: “We still need to go; figuring out the situation is very important.”
At this moment, she who had seemed somewhat carefree before suddenly became reliable, but the next second, she dropped the serious expression, and lightly told Ye Jingyun in a relaxed tone: “Don’t worry too much; if something’s going to happen, there’ll be signs—you’ve been through four platform missions, don’t you get it?”
Ye Jingyun beside her nodded, her mindset relaxing somewhat with Wei Ling’s words.
“Right, this kind of long time-limit mission generally has dangers manifesting slowly as the plot advances; at least now we know where the danger comes from.”
However, inside the platform, things never go as wished.
And danger always comes especially fiercely.
When everyone dispersed to explore the village, agreeing to meet at the temporary lodging for lunch, at the rendezvous, one person never came back.
“Where’s Li Haoyang?”
“Lunch time’s almost past, and he still hasn’t come back?”
Someone shook their head: “No.”
“What about the people who went out with him? Why didn’t you come back with him?”
“We were originally going to the village chief’s house to check it out; Li Haoyang was walking at the back, but suddenly he ran off without a word—we couldn’t catch up, lost him, and later couldn’t find him no matter what; it was almost time to meet, thinking maybe he’d come back on his own, but in the end…”
In the end, the person still hadn’t come back.
Things suddenly became off.
“Did he show any strange behavior before that?”
The person asked recalled this, their complexion also turning ugly: “No!”
“That’s the problem—he stayed with me the whole time after entering the platform; I can confirm, absolutely none!”
“It was just sudden, like he went mad, running off without a word!”
“Just like suddenly seeing a ghost.”
At this point, his tone was full of incredulity: “But we’re not newcomers to platforms; even seeing a ghost shouldn’t make us panic like that, running off alone without a word.”
Indeed, that was something only newcomers might do.
And his words made the originally not-too-heavy atmosphere become oppressive.
“An anomaly, appearing this early…”
And there were still at least 20 hours left!
How were they to get through them?
What had Li Haoyang, who suddenly ran off, encountered?
