Chapter Two: The Stranger
3
The tension in the convenience store eased slightly.
Zhao Yan leaned against the cash register, sizing up the group.
Old Zhang was inspecting the doors and windows for security, his method visibly professional as he tapped here and felt there. The female doctor—her name was Erin, a medical doctor from MIT now working at a biotech company—was treating Zhao Yan's back wound with the convenience store's first-aid kit. Her hands were steady as she disinfected, applied ointment, and bandaged the wound in one fluid motion, without a single tremor.
"The wound isn't deep, but it'll need stitches. This is all we can do for now," Erin said. "You mentioned the barrier has less than ten minutes left?"
Zhao Yan glanced at the countdown: 00:06:33.
"Yeah."
"Is that monster still out there?"
Zhao Yan peered through the crack. The headless demon still stood across the street, six weapons dangling limply at its sides. The mouth at the top of its spine opened and closed, as if chewing air. "Still there."
"Which means it'll break through in ten minutes," Erin's voice remained calm. "We need a plan."
"What can we do?! There's a monster out there! All we have is this junk!" Wang Hu kicked the shelf, sending snacks scattering across the floor.
"Calm down. Every game has rules. The monster must have weaknesses." Zhou Ming suddenly spoke up, having regained his composure. He even straightened his suit collar and tie. "Since this is a livestream, the viewers must know something."
His words jolted Zhao Yan into action. "Chen Mo," Zhao Yan turned to the programmer kid, "you mentioned having sharp eyesight and being able to read the bullet comments clearly. Did you spot anything useful?"
Chen Mo kept his head tilted back, staring at the sky-screen without blinking once."Most of it was nonsense... but a few things kept repeating: that Prajna hates salt. Also, the Blue Lantern likes stories—if you tell her a good one, she might help. Plus..." He paused, his voice trembling slightly. "The replacements might not even know they've been swapped, but there'll be signs... like... a gray aura around them."
"Gray aura?"
"Yeah, the bullet comments said the replaced person gets covered in a faint gray mist, but you need special tools or specific lighting angles to see it."
Everyone instinctively looked down at themselves, then glanced at each other, seeing nothing unusual.
Countdown: 00:04:17.
"Salt!" Zhao Yan suddenly snapped to attention, pointing at the shelves. "Convenience stores definitely have salt!"
Everyone sprang into action, turning the shelves upside down. Chips, instant noodles, and rice balls scattered everywhere. Finally, deliveryman Liu Qiang found a whole box of table salt in the seasoning section, all in small packets.
"Is this enough?" Liu Qiang asked, holding up the box.
"Open them! Scatter it all at the door! Sprinkle some by the windows too!" Zhao Yan shouted.
Bag after bag of salt was torn open, its white grains scattered haphazardly in front of the shelves blocking the door. The windowsill was also covered thickly, the air thick with the salty scent.
Countdown: 00:02:44.
The Prajna outside stirred.
It slowly turned, the mouth at the top of its spine clicking like teeth chattering. Six arms rose simultaneously, six weapons gleaming coldly under the neon lights.
It began to advance, step by step. Though slow, each stride sent faint tremors through the floor.
Countdown: 00:01:59.
"Grab whatever you can find! Anything that can be a weapon!" Old Zhang yelled.
Old Zhang grabbed a fire axe himself—the standard convenience store issue, brand new, its blade gleaming coldly. Zhao Yan took one too, weighing it in his hand. It felt decent.Liu Qiang pulled a utility knife from his pocket—a delivery driver's self-defense tool. He snapped out the blade; it looked sharp enough. Lisa simply kicked off her high heels, ten-centimeter stilettos sharp as needles, and gripped them in her hands. Wang Hu rummaged under the cash register and pulled out a paper cutter. He weighed it in his hand, muttered, "It'll do."Zhou Ming yanked a mop, snapped the handle clean off, and kept the metal-tipped end—at least it was a weapon. Chen Mo still clutched his laptop bag, which might as well have been a brick by now, but he refused to let go. Only the painter remained, leisurely sketching away, utterly unfazed by the chaos outside.
"Dr. Erin, take this." Zhao Yan handed her the fire axe he was holding.
Eileen shook her head, reaching instead for a can of pepper spray from the shelf. "You're the fighter. Take the axe. This is enough for me to defend myself."
Zhao Yan didn't insist. Time was running out.
Countdown: 00:01:30.
Outside, the demon was getting serious.
With a series of cracking sounds, the creature's spine rotated a full circle. Its mouth, filled with sharp teeth, suddenly opened wide, unleashing a deafening roar—
"Aaaaaaaaargh!!!!"
This wasn't sound—it was a solid shockwave! The convenience store's glass windows shattered with a crash, shards flying in like bullets. Many people instinctively covered their heads. The shelves blocking the door shook violently, the carefully stacked formation cracking open.Wang Hu, closest to the window, took several shards of glass squarely in the face. He howled in pain as blood streamed down his cheeks.
Countdown: 00:00:45.
"Hold it! Don't let it break through!" Old Zhang roared, braced his shoulder firmly against the shelf, his muscles taut as steel.
Zhao Yan, Liu Qiang, and Zhou Ming threw themselves against it too. The four of them gritted their teeth and pushed with all their might. But then came Banruo's second roar, even more ferocious than the first. The shelves were forced back half a meter. The salt scattered on the floor was blown into a chaotic mess, much of it gone.Zhao Yan felt his insides shaking violently. A metallic taste hit his throat, and he quickly swallowed the blood—now was no time to falter.
Countdown: 00:00:20.
Banryo charged forward.
Six arms unfurled behind it like a giant red spider, each step thudding the floor with a "thump." Its speed created afterimages, its target clearly the convenience store's front door.
00:00:05.
Zhao Yan gripped the fire axe tightly, his palms drenched in sweat.
00:00:03.
Hannya leapt upward, raising all six weapons simultaneously to bring them crashing down upon the shelves.
00:00:01.
Zhao Yan could see the rust on the axe blades, the tongue writhing in its mouth, and a black heart beating inside the gash on its back.
Then—
The countdown hit zero.
The protective barrier vanished.
Banruo's axe struck the metal shelving without resistance, splitting it open with a loud crack. Snacks and drinks spilled everywhere.
"Get out of the way!" Old Zhang yelled, shoving Zhao Yan aside.
Zhao Yan rolled on the spot, dodging the follow-up slash. Old Zhang swung his fire axe at Banruo's blade. With a clang, sparks flew everywhere. The ex-soldier's strength was no joke—he'd actually managed to block that blow, though his arm was trembling slightly.
"Damn it! Slash at its back!" Old Zhang yelled.
Zhao Yan instantly understood—the weakness Chen Mo had mentioned was that gash on its back!
He scrambled to his feet and charged at Banruo's flank. Sensing the attack, Banruo's spine twisted violently as its maw expelled a jet of black gas. Zhao Yan instinctively held his breath and sidestepped. The black gas grazed his arm, instantly corroding a hole through his clothes. His skin burned fiercely, as if scorched by fire.
But he didn't stop.
Three steps, two steps, one step—
Zhao Yan leapt upward, raising the fire axe high above his head. With every ounce of strength, he brought it crashing down toward the vertical gash on Banruo's back!
Splatter.
The axe blade sank deep into flesh, and black, viscous blood instantly sprayed across his face.
Banruo's body suddenly froze, motionless.
The next second, it let out a shrill scream so piercing it seemed inhuman, making ears ache. Black blood gushed from the wound like a fountain, spraying Zhao Yan from head to toe. Yet he gripped the axe handle tightly, pressing down, pressing harder—
The wound tore open wider.
He saw the black heart inside, still beating. A yellow talisman was stuck to it, with the character "怨" (resentment) written in blood.
Without hesitation.
Zhao Yan released the axe handle, plunged his hand directly into the wound, seized the icy heart, and yanked it out with all his might—
Pulling it out along with the talisman.
Banruo's agonized screams abruptly ceased.
Six arms fell limply to the ground, weapons clattering in a heap. The two-meter-tall body swayed, then crashed forward with a thunderous thud, smashing into the earth and kicking up a cloud of dust.
Motionless.
Zhao Yan knelt on the ground, gasping for breath, still clutching the black heart that had ceased beating. Black blood trickled down his fingers, dripping onto the ground where it mingled with the white salt, turning into an eerie gray.
The scene fell into an eerie silence.
Then, the sky screen above exploded.
[Holy shit!!! That was insane!]
[The rookie just one-shot Banryo?! Are firefighters this badass?]
[That axe swing was so badass! Perfectly hit the weak spot!]
[Thanks to that guy with glasses who saw the bullet comments saying the weak spot was on the back!]
[China's team pulled off a clean move—zero casualties!]
[Don't celebrate too soon—we still haven't found the Replicant.]
The comments flooded in at lightning speed as the view count surged to 480 million.
Zhao Yan caught his breath, tossed the black heart aside, and pushed himself up from his knees.He looked at his teammates: Old Zhang gave him a thumbs-up, his eyes brimming with admiration; Erin frowned at the corrosion wounds on his arm, already holding iodine solution; Chen Mo breathed a sigh of relief, his legs giving way as he sat down; Liu Qiang, Lisa, Wang Hu, Zhou Ming—all wore the dazed expressions of survivors.
Only the painter.
He was still painting.
But he wasn't painting the fallen Prajna, nor the chaotic convenience store.
He was painting Zhao Yan.
On the paper, Zhao Yan stood covered in blood, a fire axe clenched in his hand, with the fallen Prajna behind him. But strangely, a faint, almost invisible layer of...
gray mist.
The artist lifted his head, his gaze complex as he stared at Zhao Yan. His lips moved.
"You..."
He managed only one syllable.
Outside the convenience store, faint clapping suddenly echoed.
Clap, clap, clap.
The rhythmic, laughter-laced clapping sounded eerily out of place in the still night.
Everyone abruptly turned their heads toward the window.
Aoi Lantern had reappeared without anyone noticing. She sat atop the floating lantern, suspended mid-air outside the convenience store. Clapping softly, she gazed at them with a satisfied smile, her pale face radiating contentment.
"Not bad, not bad. That opening scene was quite entertaining," she tilted her head like a mischievous child. "So, here's your reward."
She reached into her robe and pulled out a pale blue, faintly glowing scale. With a gentle toss,
The scale drifted through the broken window, floating slowly toward Zhao Yan before hovering in midair, carrying a faint chill.
"This is the 'Ghost's Eye' scale. It can see through three layers of disguise," Lantern Qing smiled, her eyes crinkling. "Use it well, because..."
Her gaze drifted slowly over the nine people in the convenience store, her smile deepening with hidden meaning, like a cat toying with a mouse.
"Among you," she continued, "there truly is a 'ghost' hiding."
With that, she and the lantern slowly faded into the night, leaving only a final, lighthearted whisper: "Enjoy the game."
The scales landed softly in Zhao Yan's palm, cool to the touch and faintly trembling.
All eyes fixed on the scale in Zhao Yan's hand, then shifted to look at each other.
Three chances.
Can see through disguises.
Among nine people, find the well-hidden "ghost."
The countdown ticking on his wrist continues:
05:51:33.
Five hours and fifty-one minutes until dawn.
Zhao Yan clutched the icy-cold scales in his hand, a sudden chill breaking out on his back.
This chill didn't come from the night parade of ghosts outside, nor from the fierce battle moments ago.
It came from this cramped convenience store, packed with "living people."
He didn't know who the replacement was, nor whether these three chances would be enough.
But he knew this: from this moment onward, the trust between them lay shattered beyond repair.