Chapter 101: The Misty Inn

What is called an illusion might be another distinct reality hidden deep within our hearts.

Luohanai, Level 16,

Please select the game mode you wish to join.

You have chosen single-player survival mode: Nightmare. Please confirm.

Confirmed, script generation in progress.

Loading begins, please wait.

"Crackle, crackle." Without the usual welcoming words, only intermittent electric current sounds kept ringing out.

"Click!" Like a jammed radio suddenly coming back to life, countless different tones suddenly flooded Luohanai's ears—tender from children, crisp from youths, gentle from girls, coquettish from women; some sharp and frantic, others calm and steady. Like a group of utterly different people suddenly flooding into a room, each murmuring their own phrase: "Welcome to the Horror House!"

Because the previous death game had not taken long, Luohanai felt inexplicably restless in his heart. His fevered chest seemed wrapped in a chill, icy current, chaos and agitation filling his mind. Luohanai decided to enter the single-player nightmare script once more, hoping the thrilling narrative would distract him from his unease.

Loading complete. You are currently in single-player survival mode: Nightmare.

This mode provides a script introduction, with a chance of side hidden quests and special endings appearing.

The script clearance reward is a random draw of one tarot card.

The script introduction is about to begin; the game will start immediately afterward.

A very ordinary road appeared before Luohanai, with verdant green mountains on both sides, dotted at the foot with ponds and farmhouses. Beside the road stood a bus stop that had evidently not been repaired in many years, its surface rusted and creaking "pa pa" in the breeze, while an old bus slowly departed, belching black smoke.

The system voice then rang out: This is a very ordinary little town, quiet and remote, uncontested with the world. You once lived in a bustling city; you have come here to deliver something to the Misty Guest Inn. Please find the Misty Guest Inn quickly. The nights in this village are very unsafe.

The script's introduction was unusually simple. Luohanai moved his limbs almost simultaneously, and he heard the system voice prompt that the main task had been triggered.

Opening the game menu, the task bar displayed the main task: this task was even simpler than the script's introduction—just five words, go to the Misty Guest Inn.

Luohanai took a deep breath of the nameless town's air. Surrounded by mountains, the air here was exceptionally clean, a fresh, invigorating blend mingled with the cool sea breeze. The restlessness in his heart lightened considerably, and his spirits rose at once.

"This is another script? Won't it be haunted?" Luohanai glanced around at the rustic surroundings, which seemed to date from over a hundred years ago.

"Still need to deliver something? Where's the thing?" Luohanai instinctively reached behind. Sure enough, there was a travel bag. Inside, besides a bottle of mineral water and instant noodles, lay only a black box.

"Black box? What a strange thing." Luohanai held the box, gazing at the rustic black casket with interest. He lightly tapped it a few times, and it produced a clear echo.

Luohanai unintentionally glanced at the pond ahead. Its clear water accurately reflected the image of him holding the black box. He raised an eyebrow, staring at the wooden casket mirrored in the water, and smiled lightly. "It really does look like an urn."

Luohanai continued along the small path. Not far ahead lay an old street paved with blue stone slabs, flanked by white-walled, black-tiled houses. The street surface featured ancient teahouses, wine shops, tailor shops, and rice stores. Looking at the small alleys and the leisurely people strolling the lanes, Luohanai felt as if he had instantly returned to an old street from the Republic of China era over a hundred years ago—primitive yet clear and secluded, yet bustling with life.

Luohanai strolled unhurriedly, entering a teahouse where a group of elderly men gathered, holding teacups and chatting. Several young men and women were also there, whispering together and discussing something quietly. He casually picked an empty seat, ordered a cup of hot green tea from the tea servant, and sipped slowly while his ears strained to listen to the conversations around him. However, he could not understand a single word of the local dialect spoken by the old folks, and could only guess their moods from the tones of their voices.

After listening for some time, Luohanai felt as if he were reading a celestial book. Finally, he could not help interjecting, "Everyone, please, may I ask a question?"

All the old men understood Mandarin. An elderly gentleman with white hair and a youthful face said, "Ask away. I know everything about Youmeng Town."

This was Mandarin heavy with a Zhejiang-Gansu accent, sounding quite difficult to understand, yet far stronger than the previous dialect.

Luohanai nodded and silently muttered in his heart, "The Misty Guest Inn in Youmeng Town is indeed like a fine place for ghosts." On the surface, however, he remained calm, cupping his hands, stepping forward, and asking softly, "Old sir, I don't know if you know of a place called the Misty Guest Inn."

A few seconds later, the teahouse fell into complete silence. Everyone stared at Luohanai with strange, unnerving eyes, as if looking at a lunatic. Even the young men and women who had been chatting heatedly stopped talking and fixed their gazes on him.

The air seemed to solidify. That sentence of Luohanai's had clearly caused some serious consequence.

Luohanai narrowed his eyes slightly, pretending to look bewildered at the people around him, waiting for someone to break the silence.

Almost two full minutes passed in stillness. Only then did the old gentleman finally speak. "Youmeng Town has no Misty Guest Inn."

"What? None?" Luohanai feigned utter shock, though laughter rang coldly in his heart.

"No Misty Guest Inn," the old man insisted.

Luohanai no longer paid attention to the old man. He had already noticed the expressions on the surrounding faces. When they heard the four words "Misty Guest Inn," all of them revealed looks of terror, showing that they feared the Misty Guest Inn and absolutely refused to let anyone mention it, which was why they denied its existence. If they had truly never heard of the Misty Guest Inn, there would have been no need for them to react this way, as if facing a formidable enemy.

But why were they doing this? There must be some hidden truth they did not want others to know. Although there were no large-breasted beauties before him, Luohanai still felt his blood surge. He coldly smiled, staring at the old man, "Why are you so afraid of this Misty Guest Inn?"

"What did you say?" The old man looked frightened.

"Sorry, old sir. I didn't mean to make you angry. I am only curious why you are so taboo about the Misty Guest Inn. But please rest assured, I harbor no ill intentions. I also have unavoidable reasons for needing to go to the Misty Guest Inn. I hope you all understand one another and help a little, pointing out a bright path for this young man to reach the Misty Guest Inn. If I have caused any trouble, I can only say I am sorry."

The teahouse remained deathly silent. People looked at one another but said nothing. At this moment, even the old street outside had gathered many onlookers, crowding at the windows to peer inside, all eyes fixed on Luohanai. Endless repression squeezed in inch by inch, yet Luohanai felt no fear at all, looking nonchalantly at the crowd surrounding him from within to without.

It was again that old man who broke the silence. "You should go. Quickly leave Youmeng Town and stop inquiring about anything related to the Misty Guest Inn. Little brother, I am doing this for your own good. You are young; cherish your life."