Chapter 2: Beginning with the Codename

Qian Cangyi let out a sigh of relief and muttered to himself, "Good thing it was just a hallucination..."

Given the current situation, he would rather believe it was a problem with his own mind. If the characters he saw were real, it would mean he might have encountered a ghost. Although Qian Cangyi was not a staunch atheist, the idea of ghosts was something he had never truly considered facing himself.

"Maybe it's just from staying up too late? Looks like I really need to get some rest," he thought uncertainly. The words on the whites of his eyes still unsettled him.

"Three o'clock in the afternoon. If no specific date is mentioned, it's almost certainly today."

"What is supposed to happen at 3 p.m. today?"

He sincerely hoped nothing would happen at all.

...

On the stark white wall, as the second hand of the clock passed the number twelve, three o'clock in the afternoon arrived. The long wait was finally over.

Qian Cangyi held his breath, his heart involuntarily quickening its beat.

Everything in the room remained normal—no blood words appeared on the walls, nor was there any other eerie occurrence.

Gradually, a smile appeared on Qian Cangyi’s tense face.

"I’ll rest well for the next few days. Staying up late really is a big no-no."

Just as he was about to stand up, his body suddenly froze in place, uncontrollable.

Wh-what is going on?

Qian Cangyi tried to call for help, but he couldn’t even open his mouth.

In that instant, his heart leapt into his throat. Recalling the words on his eyeballs, he suddenly understood—it had all been an illusion just now.

Without his control, his body began moving toward the door.

Although he did want to leave, the whole process was entirely detached from his will; his body was being controlled by some mysterious force.

His uncontrollable body descended the stairs as usual, unnoticed by anyone. After exiting the apartment building, his body turned left and continued forward.

Can anyone hear me? Can anyone hear me?

Qian Cangyi tried to call out to passersby, but he still couldn’t make a sound. Despair enveloped him like thick fog.

He felt like a marionette, every move entirely manipulated by someone else.

Only when he arrived at the nearby bus stop did his body finally stop.

Someone... please save me?

---

Qian Cangyi pleaded silently in his mind, but it was all in vain.

The sky was heavy with dark clouds, and at the bus stop stood only Qian Cangyi alone.

Half a minute later, a pitch-black bus slowly rounded the corner not far away.

The bus had a very strange design—only one door, a jet-black body, no windows, and no windshield, giving it the appearance of a moving coffin.

From any angle, it was impossible to believe that a person was driving it.

A surge of intense fear gripped Qian Cangyi, making it difficult for him to breathe. He wanted to run, to scream, but it was useless. His body remained beyond his control.

The black bus stopped precisely in front of him, and the door opened.

Looking inside, the interior was filled with thick black mist, making it impossible to see anything.

Qian Cangyi approached the door and, seconds later, stepped aboard.

Throughout the process, no matter how much he tried to command his body, all efforts fell into an abyss of silence.

The moment the door gently closed, control of his body returned to him.

Qian Cangyi took a deep breath, inhaling deeply, then looked toward the driver’s seat.

The figure in the driver’s seat wore a black hood, shrouded completely in black mist, his features indistinguishable.

Just as Qian Cangyi was about to speak, intending to ask the driver to stop, a calm male voice interrupted him.

“Don’t shout. It’s useless.”

Qian Cangyi turned his head toward the source of the voice—the bus interior.

A circular fluorescent light illuminated the cabin, where the seats had been replaced by two black sofas with a black rectangular coffee table between them.

On the sofa to the left of the table sat a short-haired man in a black trench coat—the voice had come from him.

“What did you just say?” Qian Cangyi asked, wanting to clarify what he had heard.

The man on the sofa turned his head, his face rugged, his eyes sharp as an eagle’s.

Seeing that Qian Cangyi remained skeptical, he continued:

“From the moment you were chosen, you lost the right to refuse.”

“I’m not your guide, and I don’t know why this is happening. Believe it or not, that’s up to you.”

Qian Cangyi didn’t respond immediately. Rather than waste time debating belief, he decided to try for himself.

Better to rely on oneself than to beg others.

He turned to look at the mysterious driver and extended his right hand. As his fingers neared the black mist, the flesh on his fingertips gradually dissolved, leaving only bones—yet without any pain.

This!

Such a terrifying sight made Qian Cangyi quickly retract his hand, which immediately returned to normal.

---

Now, disbelief was useless.

Qian Cangyi stepped up onto the bus and sat on the right-side sofa, his gaze scanning the black coffee table for clues.

The edge of the table bore exquisite bright red diamond-shaped patterns, but nothing else stood out—no markings to identify the maker or origin.

Then his eyes moved to the sofas, but there was no difference—no pattern adorned them.

Even now, Qian Cangyi clung to the last thread of hope.

This must be some sort of prank.

He sighed softly, then looked up at the man in the trench coat and asked,

“May I ask your name?”

As he asked, he appraised the man from head to toe.

The trench-coated man had short hair; his black coat was clean but worn slightly at the cuffs. He wore black trousers and black boots. His cold, aloof demeanor combined with his dark attire made him seem unapproachable.

The man was also studying Qian Cangyi.

Looking directly into Qian Cangyi’s eyes, the trench coat man replied,

“You can call me ‘Eagle Eye.’ It’s a code name I chose for myself.”

“I suggest you pick a code name too. It makes communication easier.”

Qian Cangyi glanced down at the coffee table. Though he didn’t know the reason, using code names was certainly better than using real names.

Several usernames flashed through his mind before he settled on one. He answered,

“Call me ‘Azure One.’”

Eagle Eye nodded, leaned slightly forward, and said,

“Azure One, you’re probably curious why we use code names.”

“This was told to me by other players; I’m not sure of the exact reason.”

“In any case, we follow what those before us have done—it’s an unspoken rule.”

Qian Cangyi nodded but said nothing, waiting for Eagle Eye to continue.

Just now, Eagle Eye had answered some of his questions and might tell him more.

If they babbled endlessly on first meeting, anyone would grow weary.

In other words, the number of questions he could ask was limited.

The situation didn’t seem dangerous right now, so rather than ask blindly, it was better to wait for the other to clarify the key points first, and then ask once he had a preliminary understanding.