Chapter 81

The female train attendant had undergone professional training—she could easily handle all kinds of sudden situations and doubts. Even if the streamers cursed her out, she would still smile and tell them—

"This really is the final stop, sweetie."

However, Shi Jian delivered a gentle yet lethal blow—she threatened her with “your favorite ships will all break up.”

To someone who lives for shipping couples, even if her own love story ends badly, the ships she supports must not fall apart—not even ghosts are exempt.

The female attendant was caught off guard. She hesitated for a moment—and Shi Jian caught it immediately.

Shi Jian narrowed her eyes and directly pointed it out, “You hesitated.”

She didn’t even wait for an explanation. She turned and informed the other streamers, “This is most likely a fake final stop.”

Shi Jian actually had plenty more savage lines up her sleeve. Beyond that first one, she could’ve gone with: “The ship you stan is fake. They each already have girlfriends and boyfriends. It’s all for hype. Later, they’ll fight each other just to purify their fanbases.”

But Shi Jian judged that it wasn’t necessary to unleash more. What she’d said was already enough to deal with the attendant.

The female train attendant: “……”

The other streamers and viewers: Whoa-ho!

“Quick, look outside!”

Even the most skeptical person wouldn’t question Shi Jian’s method of verifying things anymore—because right after her words fell, a violent change took place outside the carriage.

Originally, the station had been full of people. Although the elderly hadn’t gotten off, many younger passengers had.

Now, all of those passengers suddenly vanished—right before everyone’s eyes, they just disappeared on the spot.

Shi Jian: !

If they’d followed along and gotten off… wouldn’t they have vanished too? That kind of death wouldn’t even get a farewell. No, it would’ve been even more brutal.

After all, streamers and passengers were fundamentally different.

Once the passengers disappeared, the normal-looking platform turned into a giant rectangular pit, densely packed with upward-facing blades and needle points.

It wasn’t hard to imagine—if the streamers had stepped off and the platform vanished, they would’ve dropped straight into the pit, pierced to bits and instantly killed.

【F*ck, this is terrifying. That move is vicious. If it were me, I would’ve gotten off.】

【The platform suddenly disappearing… the streamers would’ve fallen right in, totally unprepared. Ugh… I don’t even want to picture it.】

【Who says it disappeared suddenly? What if the platform never existed at all? The passengers could step on it, so we couldn’t tell.】

【!!! Stop it! It’s summer and my back just turned cold. That’s even scarier.】

Jiang Hai was standing close to Shi Jian. Even though he knew he had no right to pursue her, or even follow her around, as long as they were still in the instance, he wanted to chat with her a little more.

Jiang Hai said, “If dying at this stop is unavoidable, then I’d rather just vanish. At least it wouldn’t be painful.”

“What about you, Shi Jian?”

Shi Jian stared at the glinting blades and needles shining under the sun. She acknowledged that kind of death would be brutal—then said, “I’d choose to fall in.”

She was this pretty. She couldn’t just vanish without a trace. A death without even a goodbye? In a drama, that wouldn’t even count as a side character death—more like a nameless extra.And she was, without a doubt, the protagonist!

Jiang Hai: ???

Shi Jian didn’t pay attention to how confused Jiang Hai was, because she had noticed a new change on the platform.

Her gaze landed on the station sign, and she asked the other stunned streamers, “…Is there something wrong with the station name too?”

The terminal station of Train 4444 was supposed to be Liuxia Station—everyone had seen it written as such just moments ago.

However…

Jiang Xinyue said, “Why did it change to Daxia Station?”

Whether it was because they had exposed the fake station and the flaws started leaking through, they now clearly saw that the name of the fake station was actually “Daxia Station.”

It was just that the way it was written made it look like a 6.

“……”

Why did even a horror game have to pull off this kind of cheap knockoff trick? It was hard not to think of “Kangshifu” and “Kangshuai Fu,” or “Sprite” and “Leibi.”

Shi Jian was sharp. “It’s mocking us.”

Calling them “dumbasses.”

And if they had gotten off here, they really would have lived up to that label.

The train doors usually closed quickly, but maybe the dungeon was unwilling to let the streamers leave just like that—this time, the train doors shut slowly and reluctantly.

Fifteen minutes later, the train came to another stop, and the announcement rang out again: “The final stop, [Liuxia Station], has arrived. Passengers, please gather your belongings and disembark in an orderly fashion…”

Shi Jian looked outside. The station sign was normal now. The elderly were crowding at the front, scrambling to get off. Behind them followed helpless but resigned young people.

Jiang Xinyue let out a relieved smile. “We’ve reached the real final stop now, right?”

Shi Jian confirmed, “We should have.”

And the very next second, the joyful “beep beep beep” of the dungeon-clear notification sounded in their minds, indicating that they had indeed arrived at the real final station.

The instance was cleared. They were about to leave Train 4444.

On the platform—

Wang Shufen and her boyfriend were hugging tightly. Her boyfriend lifted her off the ground as she cried and laughed at the same time. Li Xu gently wiped her tears, saying something inaudible, but clearly heartfelt—words he must’ve been holding back for a long time.

Shi Jian also saw the elderly man from the sleeper car.

He was leaning on the station railing, gazing out at the blooming fields of rapeseed flowers.

The rapeseed flowers really were in full bloom. The vast golden fields were beautiful under the blue sky and white clouds.

Another passenger pulling a suitcase passed by Shi Jian while calling her parents. She was a university student who had been away for half a year and missed her family dearly. Now, she was finally going home. Her parents were waiting outside the station with snacks for her.

…

“Oh, right—Shi Jian, I have something to tell you.”

While waiting to leave the instance, the streamers’ faces were noticeably more relaxed. One male streamer called out to Shi Jian.

Viewers: Is he about to confess to her?!Let go of that wife—let them come instead!

Shi Jian hadn’t interacted much with this streamer and didn’t know why he was looking for her, but she still gestured for him to speak. “Go ahead.”

Turns out, he wasn’t here to confess anything. He had personally witnessed Shi Jian’s double kill—because he was the one hiding under the bed at the time. Now, facing her, his demeanor was more like that of a fan.

But this wasn’t the time to ask for an autograph, so he hurriedly said, “Earlier, it was too chaotic, and I forgot to tell you. I saw something glowing on you—something with tentacles that flung a person away…”

Shi Jian instantly became alert. She stared at the male streamer, slightly on guard.

Monster Mom.

Why was he bringing that up?

The male streamer waved his hands. “I don’t mean anything by it. Do you know what that was…? I just happened to hear about it.”

Shi Jian really didn’t know. After failing to get a call through, she’d quickly regained her composure, but deep down she’d always had doubts about it.

She hadn’t expected that this guy might actually have answers.

So she quickly asked, “What was it?”

The male streamer replied, “It’s a kind of mark—a protective mark.”

He sighed in amazement. “I heard other streamers mention it at the transfer station. Apparently, a high-ranking player was favored by a powerful ghost in a dungeon, and the ghost placed a mark on him. The mark didn’t trigger any phone alerts, but when he was in danger, it activated and blocked a fatal attack.”

“They said the mark was probably single-use. After that, when the guy got hurt again, it didn’t activate anymore—but even once is insane.”

Shi Jian was stunned: So when she left Qingshan No. 1 High School, Monster Mom planted a mark on her…

She had been completely unaware. If Du Zhifan hadn’t tried to harm her, she still wouldn’t know to this day.

Shi Jian asked, “Will the ghost be affected? Will it get hurt?”

The male streamer had just been wondering why all the lucky encounters happened to other people. He was caught off guard by Shi Jian’s sudden question and looked a bit dumbfounded.

“Probably… not?” he said uncertainly.

He didn’t really know, either.

Shi Jian was a little disappointed—she’d only gotten part of the answer, not the part she truly cared about—but she still sincerely thanked the male streamer.

The platform was like a miniature society, where family, love, and friendship all played out.

There were young couples in love, elderly people seeking beauty, homesick university students… In the story, they had died in a train explosion, never able to reach their destination—but at least this time, they had arrived safely and on time.

Shi Jian looked away. Right before the wave of dizziness hit her, she pulled out her phone and said into it, “I want to file a complaint.”

This was something she had planned for a while. Since no one knew whether Monster Mom was safe, she’d go find someone who could answer her.

Shi Jian figured the person in the Judgment Room might be able to give her that answer.

…

In the blink of an eye, Shi Jian found herself in the Judgment Room. She was seated in a cold metal chair, across from an even colder uniformed man with a pixelated face.

Before he could even speak, Shi Jian felt his gaze land on her—and straightened up, speaking first.

“I don’t actually have a complaint.”Shi Jian looked at him with a charming smile and asked, “I didn’t quite catch the last thing you said last time—could you repeat it?”

The uniformed man paused slightly before replying in a flat, mechanical tone, “If you come again without a legitimate reason, twenty thousand points will be deducted.”

Shi Jian put on an expression of sudden realization. “Oh, I see. Got it. I heard it clearly this time.”

She unilaterally declared her reason completely legitimate!

What, she couldn’t come back just to clarify something she didn’t hear clearly?

The uniformed man didn’t comment. Shi Jian knew that continuing to talk would make her seem overly deliberate, but if she didn’t speak now, she worried she really would have to spend points to return.

So she asked the uniformed man across from her, “If a ghost placed a protective mark on me, and that mark activated—would she be hurt because of it?”

“And… is there any way I could see her again?”

The uniformed man stood tall, like a pine tree. Shi Jian rarely met anyone whose posture was as impeccably managed as hers.

But his words were far from pleasant.

Tapping a closed steel pen twice on the wooden desk with his long, well-defined fingers, the man said, “Miss Shi, don’t try your little tricks—they’re clumsy.” He saw through her instantly.

“I’ve told you before, I am always impartial. Don’t try to play games or pull strings.”

“I will never disclose dungeon-related information to you… and the Judgment Room is not your personal garden.” A clear warning.

It wasn’t a place she could come and go as she pleased.

Other streamers and ghosts avoided the Judgment Room like the plague. Since Shi Jian discovered it, this was already her third time entering. Except for the first time, she had come of her own accord each time after.

Inside, Shi Jian was screaming: Clumsy?! Did he just call me clumsy?!

The uniformed man’s rejection was merciless and final, leaving no room for negotiation. Anyone else would’ve given up by now.

But Shi Jian leaned forward slightly, her delicate brows furrowed, and looked at him with hopeful eyes. “You really can’t tell me?”

Her eyes were bright and clear, black and white in perfect contrast, shimmering under the light. She looked like a high-breed Ragdoll cat—full of schemes, yet so beautiful that you could forgive anything.

The man didn’t respond. He remained unmoved, so Shi Jian blinked her eyes again, her long lashes fluttering.

He finally opened his mouth, this time speaking faster.

“The ghost’s mark is a spiritual projection. The separated spirit body won’t have much impact on the original body.”

“And also—I quite like a line from the Song dynasty’s Zhang Xie the Top Scholar: ‘If it’s fated, you’ll meet even across a thousand miles. If not, even face-to-face, you’ll pass like strangers.’”

With that, he lowered his head and resumed flipping through documents, signaling clearly that the conversation was over.

Shi Jian’s eyes instantly lit up.

In summary: Monster Mom wasn’t hurt. And if fate allows, they will meet again.

There was still hope!

Shi Jian had gotten the answers she came for. She sincerely thanked him, “Thank you… Mr. Pixel-Head.”

She hadn’t meant to call him that—it just slipped out because she didn’t know his name, and he really did have a pixelated face. In her excitement, the words just blurted out.When leaving the Judgment Room, even though the man’s face was heavily pixelated, Shi Jian still felt an undeniable gaze fixed on her.

Shi Jian briefly felt a pang of guilt: He probably didn’t pay attention to that nickname, right?

But Shi Jian only noticed for half a second before she was back at the transfer station.

Learning that Monster Mom wasn’t hurt and that there might be a chance to meet again lifted her spirits.

Besides that, Shi Jian had a new pleasant surprise—

After finishing this dungeon, she leveled up, advancing from a low-level streamer to a mid-level streamer!

And a new item appeared in her inventory.

It was that chainsaw.

Before entering the dungeon, Shi Jian wanted a handy offensive weapon. Although high heels were a growable item, trying to escape or fight ghosts wearing them was troublesome.

But Shi Jian didn’t like any of the items she could buy with points, and the ones she liked were too expensive, so she had to wait.

However, now she got her weapon without spending a single cent.