What a stroke of unexpected fortune — so delightful it felt almost unreal. Erik couldn't stop praising her teammates, deeply grateful for their reliability. She thought to herself that she needed to grow stronger too — to become someone who could see three steps ahead for every move made. After all, one could not always count on encountering such dependable companions in every instance.
Brooks had remained silent, listening intently and analyzing their words. Only now did he speak:
"From the moment we entered this instance, we could have uncovered all its secrets in a very short time — as long as we captured the right NPC. But that would've been unwise. If we threaten or coerce the NPCs for information, they turn into ghosts. Without the right items, that means certain death. It would also alert the entire village, making it impossible to steal the harpoon."
"Brooks, do you have any ideas on how to use the harpoon?" Erik's mind was spinning rapidly.
Since the players were offerings, they stood in opposition to both the village NPCs and the Dragon King. To survive, they had to evade the villagers' persecution and escape the wrath of the Dragon King. They had temporarily managed the first — the latter would depend on the harpoon.
Was it meant to repel the Dragon King during the festival? But then another problem arose: the Dragon King Festival itself was a compromise between the villagers and Yinghua. Even if the players drove off the Dragon King, the villagers would never let them go.
They needed a plan — a way to wield the harpoon to kill two birds with one stone, to end everything once and for all.
Brooks already had a vague idea. "Stealing the harpoon was half the battle won. The villagers are no longer a threat."
Erik sat up straighter, eyes shining. "Without the harpoon, will Yinghua still fear the village?"
Delilah grew excited as well. "Maybe this time, during the festival, the Dragon King will turn on the villagers first!"
"Then we seize the chance to find the portal," Brooks said. "I think there are two possible locations — the shrine, or the center of the river where the Dragon King comes ashore."
Delilah nodded but added a third possibility. "There's also that row of empty houses along the riverbank. Yesterday, the NPCs suddenly chased me and I didn't get the chance to tell you what Josephine and I discovered. We found out those houses have been abandoned for decades — the villagers never go near them. I suspect there's something wrong with those stilt houses. While questioning the old woman earlier, I asked about them — it turns out one of those houses once belonged to Yinghua's in-laws — no, her buyers. The neighboring families had also harmed Yinghua. In the beginning, all of them died — except her buyers."
They thought they had escaped her wrath. But Yinghua ensured they lived in torment instead.
"During the Dragon King Festival, the villagers send the pregnant offerings into the river. At first, I thought the Dragon King consumed them there. But the old woman said the Dragon King pulls them ashore, into those stilt houses once owned by the buyers, and watches as they give birth to human-headed fish — only to eat the offerings bite by bite afterward. Afterward, the villagers collect the remains. The fish are released into the river to drift downstream, and the current brings back a new generation of offerings. The villagers then send them across the river and wait twenty years to bring them back. That's why I think the buyers' former home might also be a portal site."
Delilah's reasoning was sound, and Erik was struck with inspiration.
"Then there's a fourth possible location — the opposite riverbank."
"Exactly!" Delilah nodded vigorously.
Brooks said, "Then here's the plan: we'll first search the shrine and the abandoned stilt houses. If we find nothing, we'll steal a boat and head to the river center. If still no portal, we'll cross to the opposite shore."
Erik and Delilah agreed without hesitation.
As the sky began to pale, the third day in the instance dawned.
Erik asked Delilah, "How did you two avoid the dogs?" She'd caught a sharp grassy scent from both Delilah and Brooks.
"Brooks made a kind of juice. When applied to the body, it masks your scent." Delilah asked in return, "What's that sticky stuff on your hands? Mud?"
In the dim light last night, she hadn't noticed. Now, Erik's face and body were covered in dried mud.
"Yeah. I smeared myself with mud to hide my scent. The dogs couldn't track me. Can you show me what that plant looks like?"
"Of course."
Erik studied it carefully, committing it to memory.
That day, the three of them remained hidden in the trees, quietly awaiting April 4th.
After their discussion, they each moved to separate trees, keeping a cautious distance while maintaining the ability to support one another.
The atmosphere in the village was grim. One offering had already escaped and been captured early by the Dragon King. The remaining three had vanished, and the harpoon was missing. The village chief's face was dark with rage.
"We must retrieve the harpoon, or else our village will—"
*Will what?*
The words faltered on his tongue. He couldn't recall what he was going to say.
He froze. A wave of dread swept over him — he felt as though he had forgotten something vital.
His mind instinctively recoiled from the thought, dragging itself back to safer ground.
Alone in the room, no one saw — not even the chief himself — the momentary transformation of his body: from man, to rotting corpse, and back again.
Once calm returned, he stepped outside and resumed barking orders, urging the villagers to search harder.
But it was all futile. The players, safely hidden, remained patient. They would not emerge until the final moment.
They endured the penultimate day. At last, the final one arrived.
Delilah and Brooks each used a standard healing kit, restoring themselves from hunger, chill, and lingering ailments. They were ready to face what lay ahead.
Erik, perched in her own tree, had not starved herself. A few stretches and movements were enough preparation. She touched her neck — the bruises from when Nora's mother had strangled her still throbbed with icy pain, hurting even to swallow. For days she had used warming patches to ease the cold, but the chill lingered in her bones. She resolved to buy a supernatural healing pack after clearing the instance.
The Dragon King Festival would begin at dusk.
That afternoon, Erik climbed to the treetop and, steadying herself, used binoculars to observe the village. She saw the villagers gathering outside the shrine — men, women, children, elders — all assembled.
"It's starting!" she called to Brooks and Delilah.
They needed time to descend. The three of them set off immediately.
On the way, Erik glanced several times at the harpoon. Brooks had strapped it across his back with vines. It looked old and rusted. Over the past two days, Brooks had never offered to let them inspect it, and neither she nor Delilah had asked. There was an unspoken understanding.
It was the most vital item in this instance. From the way Brooks had behaved since entering, it was clear he trusted them — but only to a point.
She didn't mind not being trusted. If it were her, she'd hide such a critical item too — tuck it into a supermarket aisle if need be.
They moved with great caution. Fortunately, the NPCs seemed to have fully withdrawn — the group encountered no danger and made it into the village safely. On a slope overlooking the settlement, Delilah handed Erik the binoculars again.
Erik scanned the village and found the shrine empty.
"They must've already taken the offerings to the dock."
"Let's go."
The trio headed first for the shrine.
Its doors stood wide open. Not a soul was in sight. They didn't know whether the guardian Brooks had mentioned was still inside. It was Erik's first time seeing the stilted structure that served as the shrine — it truly resembled a fishing net, wide-mouthed and ready to trap prey.
Delilah took a deep breath and hurled a stone up the steps. It clattered onto the wooden floor inside.
No reaction.
Erik climbed up, cautiously peeking inside.
A wave of damp, fishy air hit her. The room was wide and open, no inner chambers. Everything was in plain view.
No one inside. She gestured to the others and stepped in first.
She saw the fishing net, the harpoon, the offering table — and the bedding of the supposed guardian.
The harpoon?
Up close, it looked nearly identical to the one Brooks carried.
A fake?
Doubt swirled in Erik's mind. What if *both* harpoons were decoys?
"They look the same," Delilah muttered, frowning.
Could they both be fakes? What now?
"This one's fake," Brooks said as he entered, lightly brushing his fingers over it.
"How can you tell?" Delilah asked quickly.
"It's just a prop," he said with calm certainty.
Delilah opened her mouth, then closed it again.
"That's good," Erik said. "The villagers must have used it to deceive the Dragon King. The portal isn't here — or perhaps it hasn't appeared yet. We should leave someone to wait."
"I'll stay," Delilah offered. "The villagers will return once the festival ends. If the portal hasn't shown by then, I'll come find you."
"Alright," Brooks nodded. "Erik and I will go to the dock and the abandoned houses. We'll find a chance to steal a boat."
Erik and Brooks set off toward the dock. From a distance, they could see a crowd — the entire village had gathered by the river, kneeling like statues in the pouring rain.
Through her binoculars, Erik scanned the river and spotted several fishing boats already far out — black specks in the distance.
"Let's wait a little longer."
Aboard one of those boats, Weston, Emery, and Josephine had regained their senses in a final moment of lucidity. They screamed in terror and anguish. Bound tightly with coarse ropes, their arms and legs were spread out, bodies helpless and prone. The villagers, silent and unmoved by their cries, rowed steadily toward the heart of the river, never once attempting to silence them — intent only on delivering their offerings to the Dragon King.