Chapter 29: The Death of Cheng Shi

The Death of Cheng Shi

It was strange—Cheng Shi’s eyes held no sorrow.

Or rather, he didn’t care at all about Bai Ling’s death.

He continuously accelerated his metabolism, trying to use the magic of time to erase the control effects of his negative status.

But unfortunately, the real world wasn’t a turn-based game; while Cheng Shi struggled, the guard didn’t idle.

As a singer, inflicting negative status effects was his specialty—he kept casting his spells, squeezing the little remaining space Cheng Shi had to survive.

Soon, Cheng Shi felt his strength fading; in the tug-of-war at the edge of death, he was overwhelmed and utterly shattered, left only to wait for death.

The guard stepped up to Cheng Shi, saw he was motionless, eyes vacant, and sighed:

“Crawlers beneath the earth should stay beneath the earth—but sometimes, crawlers have their uses. I both like you and hate you. Ah, what a contradiction.”

But before he finished speaking, the guard suddenly raised his sword and stabbed downward, piercing Cheng Shi’s chest with the speed of thunder.

Giving him not a single chance to turn the tide.

“Ssssh!”

The blade pierced his heart.

Cheng Shi’s eyes flew open, his pupils contracting sharply; within seconds, the light in his eyes collapsed entirely.

One second before his vision plunged into darkness, he saw the door directly opposite suddenly burst open with a “Bang!”—a familiar face appeared before him.

“Brother Cheng!!??”

It was A Ming.

But he was too late.

Cheng Shi smiled bitterly, then closed his eyes forever.

A Ming had barely entered the room when he felt the thick presence of [Order] energy; seeing his two fallen teammates, he went berserk and charged at the stunned guard.

“Kill you! Kill you!!”

“How is this possible? This is the domain of [Order]—how can you be unbound?!”

“[Order?] I AM [Order!]”

This was clearly blasphemy, yet A Ming received no divine punishment.

He muttered furiously under his breath, his face twisted with ferocity; in a flash, he appeared behind the guard.

The guard couldn’t react in time—his face contorted in terror; he seemed about to shout, but before a sound escaped, a bloodied dagger plunged through his back.

Then, it pierced straight through his chest.

A murky yellow light flickered briefly along the dagger’s edge; the guard stared at the blade tip protruding from his chest, spat out a foul stream of blood, and died with eyes wide open.

“Brother Cheng! I’ve avenged you!”

A Ming’s voice was distorted and choked; he kicked the corpse aside, collapsed onto the floor, eyes hollow.

At that moment, Fang Shiqing rushed in with Xu Lu through the door.

A Ming looked up at them, tears still glistening in his eyes.

Xu Lu, seeing the gruesome scene, turned pale, clutching Fang Shiqing’s sleeve tightly.

Though she disliked Cheng Shi, their shared identity as players made her feel a pang of sorrow.

Fang Shiqing stared at the scene before her—the dead Bai Ling and Cheng Shi—and bit her lip until it turned white.

Almost bloodless.

“How could this happen...”

But she quickly snapped back, turned, and shut the door firmly:

“What happened?”

“I don’t know—I arrived a little late. I was exploring the second floor when I heard noises from this room and rushed over. When I came in, Brother Cheng and Birdy...”

A Ming seemed consumed by guilt; he rubbed his hair, head bowed, pounding the ground.

“Who’s on the bed?”

No sooner had he asked than Xu Lu’s face changed; she pointed at the bed and gasped:

“Him! The one destined to die in the prophecy—it’s him!”

Fang Shiqing trembled, turning back to Xu Lu in disbelief.

She suddenly realized—the corpse on the bed was likely the Duke, the man who had been missing all along.

Xu Lu, seeing the scene matched the vague prophecy exactly, muttered dazedly:

“So it wasn’t us who were meant to die... but the Duke. Then that Cheng guy...”

Though the prophecy didn’t mention any player dying, two players were now dead.

Given the scene, only two possibilities existed:

Either Cheng Shi stumbled upon the guard’s murder and was silenced.

Or the guard caught Cheng Shi in the act of murder, and Cheng Shi failed to kill him back.

Which one it was...

No sooner had Fang Shiqing voiced her theory than Xu Lu lowered her head and said:

“I think... the guard saw Cheng Shi kill someone...”

Fang Shiqing’s expression hardened, a flicker of contempt crossing her eyes; her voice turned cold:

“Why?”

“He might have wanted to steal the Duke’s identity... He... seemed like the kind of person who would.”

She knew speaking this now was unwise, yet for some reason, she summoned the courage to voice her suspicion.

Fang Shiqing frowned but held back her anger.

“Sister Fang... what do we do now?”

Fang Shiqing checked her watch—nearly seven hours had passed; only five hours remained.

“You two go out first. Guard the door. As comrades, we must see them off properly.”

A Ming glanced at Fang Shiqing, suddenly remembering she too was a Singer.

Singers record stories, and the protagonists of those stories are often all kinds of people.

Of course, also all kinds of dead people.

So they excel at singing funeral dirges, reciting elegies.

Xu Lu thought this ritual might waste time, but seeing Fang Shiqing’s resolute face, she bit her lip and stepped toward the door.

A Ming followed close behind, head bowed, face hidden.

As Fang Shiqing passed him, she patted his shoulder in comfort.

Once the two exited and shut the door, her sorrow vanished instantly—replaced by a surge of fury.

She opened her book, tore off a page, and flicked it lightly—the entire room froze instantly; even the fluttering curtains halted mid-motion.

No sound remained—not even breath.

Then she walked to Cheng Shi’s side, stared at the corpse pierced through the heart, and laughed bitterly.

Fang Shiqing recalled the moment in the thick fog when she’d woken up in Cheng Shi’s arms and felt a slip of paper tucked against her chest.

At the time, while no one was looking, she’d secretly read it.

It read:

“Respected Lady of the Flame,

Though I stand beside you, even now,

Do not look at me. Do not smile.

This is a plea for help—from my future self.

If I die and you happen upon me, please save me.

Any healing spell can pull me back from hell. I beg you, for the sake of the moment I once was a Flame-Bearer candidate, lend me your aid.

Your humble servant is eternally grateful.

Also: Three travelers must be cautious.”

Now, looking down at the corpse at her feet—he was dead.

How did this bastard predict his own death?

“How could you trust me so blindly?

How could you be certain I’d come to save you?

You rejected me—didn’t you fear I’d reject you too?

Bastard!”

Fang Shiqing scolded Cheng Shi at length, her brows furrowed.

The space was silenced—no one could hear, as if in a silent trial.

Yet in the end, she resigned herself, tore another page from her book, crumpled it, and pressed it against Cheng Shi’s wound.

The moment the page touched the wound, it dissolved into a green glow pulsing with [Life], flooding into Cheng Shi’s body.

The corpse, moments ago lifeless, instantly opened his eyes.

“Ugh—huh—ugh—huh—”

Loud, ragged gasps echoed—but no one heard them.

Watching Cheng Shi’s ridiculous gasping, Fang Shiqing couldn’t help but smile.

Fresh air flooded his lungs; the long-missed sensation of the living world surged through his limbs—he greedily drew in several more breaths.

He’s alive!

He’s come back to life!

The first thing he did was look up—not at Fang Shiqing—but pulled out his watch to check how much time had passed.

When he saw only twenty-some minutes had passed since his death, he exhaled a long, heavy breath, relieved.

He released all the pressure in his heart.

Then he looked at the dead Bailing, and the guard with eyes wide open, unblinking in death—and suddenly laughed.

A silent laugh, like a clown in a silent film.

The thigh really can be relied upon.

Or rather—the City Defender truly can be relied upon!

Fang Shiqing saw Cheng Shi laughing to himself, ignoring her entirely as his savior, and angrily kicked him twice.

Cheng Shi quickly scrambled up, clasped his hands together in thanks, then pointed to Bailing beside him.

Fang Shiqing’s face darkened, pointed to the book in her hand, and mouthed:

“Wasting pages—you’re a priest, you save her yourself.”

Cheng Shi sighed, then snapped his fingers.

With the silent snap, Bailing’s crushed body slowly regained fullness; within a few breaths, her eyes opened again.

Retroactive Healing—a gift from 【Time】!

The moment her clear eyes opened, they filled with shock. She stared blankly at Cheng Shi and murmured:

“It’s... really... true...”

Fang Shiqing read her lips, turned her head in confusion toward Cheng Shi, as if asking, “What’s true?”

Cheng Shi spread his hands, indicating he had no idea.

Bailing, seeing the big shot still pretending ignorance, giggled foolishly along.

The bloodstains on her body didn’t vanish with the retroactive healing, but the bloodied dress added a certain allure to Bailing.

“Reborn,” she seemed even more... alluring.

Fang Shiqing frowned, sensing something was not simple.

The stench of 【Corruption】 had grown stronger.

Her gaze flickered between Cheng Shi and Bailing, trying to discern what had passed between them.

But Cheng Shi concealed it perfectly—no trace of suspicion could be found.

Bailing, however, was terrible at pretense; her eyes clung to Cheng Shi like spun thread, staring in a way that made one feel sick...

No one knew what she was thinking.

Fang Shiqing naturally had no idea what Bailing was thinking—because right now, her mind was filled entirely with the scene she and Cheng Shi had shared inside the cabinet.