Chapter 342: It’s Normal to Have Ghosts in the Netherworld

"I was chosen? This can’t be right..." Pan Fan said, his expression filled with resignation.

Just three days ago, a survival game called the Apocalypse Game, where the fate of nations hung in the balance, had suddenly descended upon their world.

Everyone was bound as a "Survivor" and told they had three days to prepare. After three days, a group would be selected from all the Survivors and sent to the Netherworld to survive.

Failure to survive meant their corresponding nation would suffer a terrible penalty, like the annihilation of its people or the visitation of some disaster.

But if they succeeded, they would receive different rewards based on their performance.

Rewards included things like the restoration of resources within their homeland and an increase in the lifespan of their nation’s people.

For both the nations and their citizens, this was nothing short of a miracle.

The reason was simple: their planet had entered a state of resource depletion a hundred years prior.

Both agriculture and industry had stagnated.

Even for the nation’s most powerful figures, the greatest luxury was drinking a bowl of rice porridge that had been preserved for a century.

They could only have it once a month, and even then, it was just a small bowl to savor the taste.

Ordinary people didn’t starve, but the artificial food they ate was disgusting and devoid of nutrition, barely enough to keep them alive.

As a result, few lived past forty. Fortunately, while children, pregnant women, and other designated groups also ate artificial food, their rations were slightly more nutritious.

Even so, it was barely enough to get by. Pan Fan himself was little more than skin and bones; he had never known what it felt like to be full.

The world’s nations had, of course, considered leaving the planet to explore others.

The problem was... they had no resources.

With resources completely depleted, where were they supposed to find what they needed to fly into Outer Space and explore new worlds?

Thus, they were all dying a slow death, simply waiting to wring the last drop of resources from their mother world before they all perished together.

So when the Apocalypse Game appeared, every nation saw a glimmer of hope.

Of course, each nation wouldn’t be sending just one Survivor. For this first time, it was a full one hundred.

As long as a single person made it back alive, the mission would be considered a success.

Furthermore, upon entering the Netherworld, each Survivor would draw a talent to help them.

However, such lenient conditions implied that the difficulty would be immense.

As one of the Survivors chosen for this mission, Pan Fan was naturally unwilling to go.

He wasn’t one of those arrogant types; he knew full well he wasn’t cut out for this. For him, entering the Netherworld was a death sentence.

"Apocalypse Game, let me draw my talent," Pan Fan said.

There was no elaborate drawing process, no grand prize wheel. His talent simply appeared on his status panel.

[D-Rank Talent: Pollution Resistance]

[Effect: Slightly increases resistance to pollution.]

’What... what’s the use of this?’ Pan Fan knew about the quality ranks, of course. When the Apocalypse Game arrived, everyone had the relevant information implanted directly into their minds.

But before he could give it any more thought, he was teleported to the Netherworld.

[Mandatory Mission: Survive for 24 hours]

[Reward: Return]

[Exploration Mission: Increase Exploration Rating]

[Reward: A random national resource will be restored for the Xia Guang Kingdom.]

[Note: The degree of resource restoration is tied to your Exploration Rating.]

Pan Fan was left speechless by the rewards.

’Of course it wouldn’t be so easy. Just getting back alive means no penalty. If I want more, I have to risk my life.’

Pan Fan looked around and found himself standing at the entrance of an old mansion. It seemed he had to go inside.

As for leaving?

He glanced back at the distant fog. Pan Fan had no desire to find out what was lurking inside it.

As he walked closer, the mansion doors swung open on their own.

Pan Fan had braced himself for something like this, but he couldn’t help but jump in fright.

"’Ghosts in the Netherworld... perfectly normal, perfectly normal,’ he muttered. Then he noticed a figure standing not far away."

He blinked, and the figure was suddenly right in front of him.

"AHHH!!!" he shrieked instinctively, nearly jumping out of his skin.

"Shut up. Yell like that and you’ll attract the ghosts," a voice sounded in his ear.

Then, Pan Fan felt a hand clamp over his mouth.

When he got a closer look, his eyes widened in disbelief.

It was for one simple reason: standing in the courtyard of this ancient, traditional-style mansion was an Armored Man.

The scene was a complete stylistic mismatch.

"Calm now?" the person asked again.

Pan Fan nodded frantically. He couldn’t speak, but he could at least show he understood.

Only then did the person lower their hand.

"You’re a Survivor from the Apocalypse Game? What’s going on?" the person asked.

"You are too?" Pan Fan felt like the two of them were a complete mismatch.

"Yes, but my situation is... special. We’ll skip that for now."

"Where did you come from? How did you get here? What’s your talent? Do you have any missions?"

The Armored Man fired off a series of questions like a machine gun.

This made Pan Fan’s expression turn even more peculiar.

’Something’s not right here.’

"You don’t know? That can’t be right. The Apocalypse Game implanted all the information in us," Pan Fan said, looking at Qi Suian warily.

It was like talking to someone who didn’t know basic common sense.

"I’m not from your batch of Survivors, so how would I know?"

"As far as that’s concerned, you should be calling me ’Senior,’" the Armored Man declared.

"Huh? Senior?" Pan Fan’s wariness didn’t lessen in the slightest.

’Who knows what’s really going on with him.’

"Spit it out, or I’ll kill you," the Armored Man threatened.

Pan Fan really wanted to show some backbone and say, ’Go ahead and kill me if you have the guts.’

But then, a colossal, one-eyed ox with a white head and a serpentine tail stood up, its single eye staring right at Pan Fan.

"Ignore it. It’s just my summon," Qi Suian said plainly.

That one sentence was enough to make Pan Fan cooperate. He spilled all the information at once.

Given the circumstances, it would be incredibly easy for the other man to kill him.

After listening to the setup, Qi Suian could only conclude that the Apocalypse Game really knew how to play games, even masquerading as some kind of contest for national supremacy.

The Survivors probably weren’t strong. The real threat was the Netherworld, where Qi Suian was.

He suspected that the Netherworld and the Mortal Realm, where the Survivors came from, were likely not part of the same world.

’That son of a bitch...’ Qi Suian couldn’t help but curse under his breath.

The reason was simple: he figured the Apocalypse Game was orchestrating things from the safety of the Mortal Realm, while he was stuck in the Netherworld.

As for the Survivors, they would be teleported back to the Mortal Realm after their time in the Netherworld was up.

It was as if the Apocalypse Game had started a remote livestock farming operation.

This meant Qi Suian couldn’t even go after these Survivors to cause them trouble.

It had probably resorted to this because it couldn’t deal with Qi Suian directly.

This made Qi Suian grind his teeth in frustration. After holding him in a cold war for so long, it had just decided to ignore him and move on.

"Senior... is there... anything else you want to ask?" Pan Fan asked cautiously.

When Qi Suian didn’t answer, Pan Fan naturally grew anxious.

’This guy was clearly not someone to be trifled with.’

"Nothing else," Qi Suian replied. He truly had no more questions.

He had no idea how the teleportation worked.

In fact, Qi Suian himself had been trapped in this mansion for three days.

He’d clashed with the mansion’s female ghost hundreds of times.

She couldn’t kill him, and he couldn’t destroy her.

He could toss her into the Melting Furnace to burn her, but it wouldn’t kill her. After three minutes, she would inexplicably disappear, only to reappear later.

She was basically an NPC on a fixed respawn timer.

He’d also figured out her special abilities: the cold breath on the neck followed by a deadly head-twist, the drag-and-drown from the well, and the look-up-and-get-hanged-by-your-neck trick inside the house, among other ways to die.

These kill methods ignored all stats and attributes; as long as the trigger conditions were met, they would activate.

However, whether they could actually kill someone, or if that person would revive afterward, were not part of the package.

As long as you didn’t trigger them, you could wander around the mansion without any issues.

"Well, good luck. I hope you make it out of here alive," Qi Suian offered, genuinely.

He had considered trying to piggyback on Pan Fan’s return trip, but he knew without even thinking about it that the Apocalypse Game would never allow that.

So, all he could do for now was observe.

As for helping? Forget it. The fact that he hadn’t killed the Survivor, Pan Fan, was already an act of mercy.

"Senior, I just need to survive for twenty-four hours."

"It would be a small effort for you," Pan Fan said obsequiously.

’It’s not shameful if it helps me survive.’

Qi Suian just shook his head. "I’m not helping."

"However, I can give you a few tips." Qi Suian mused for a moment. ’Suddenly sending a Survivor my way... could this be some kind of protagonist halo effect?’

"If you feel cold breath on the back of your neck, don’t turn around. Just walk forward."

"And the well in the garden..."

Qi Suian briefly ran through the list of precautions with Pan Fan.

As long as the guy didn’t deliberately go looking for trouble, he should basically be able to survive for twenty-four hours.

As for getting a higher Exploration Rating for more rewards? That wasn’t Qi Suian’s problem.

But even with the warnings, he wasn’t optimistic about Pan Fan’s chances of surviving the full twenty-four hours.

The reason was simple: the mansion seemed to harbor some kind of rule-based "pollution." The longer one stayed, the more one would be submerged in its influence.

Qi Suian himself was unaffected. He had extremely high resistance, perhaps even immunity, to this kind of pollution.

For example, back in the Spirit Root World, he had laid eyes on the indescribable Spider God and come away completely fine, still alive and kicking.

It was probably related to his own unique nature.

After all, the precursor to the Profound Virus was related to the Profound God. Though its ceiling was low, its origins were unimpeachable.

Plus, Qi Suian had seen it all, so his resistance had naturally grown high.

However, for an ordinary person like Pan Fan, if he couldn’t find a way to counteract it within the mansion, Qi Suian estimated that he would fall into a state of delirium and auditory hallucinations within ten hours at most.

At fifteen hours, he’d go mad. And around the twenty-hour mark, he’d be dead.

As for how Qi Suian had discovered this pollution? It was because of "Investigative Interference," of course.

He’d also discovered a lot of other bizarre things. For instance, the mansion’s main door couldn’t be opened from the inside, but if you were outside, it would open automatically once you got within a certain range.

It was basically a rule-based automatic door. Qi Suian cursed it as being completely and utterly redundant.

"Thank you, Senior! Thank you so much!" Pan Fan thought Qi Suian was actually a pretty good guy. He said he wouldn’t help, but he still warned him about all the dangers.