The bug smiled.

  Not metaphorically—it actually smiled. Its mouth slowly split open, revealing fine teeth, white and serrated like saw blades. Something human flickered in those pupil-less eyes, carrying mockery, like it was watching a good show. Then it moved, legs scurrying rapidly, crawling into the shadows and vanishing.

  Li Ming knew nothing of this. He walked toward the library, the black note pressed against his chest, cool as jade. His palm sweated, sticky, the paper growing damp.

  "Survive seven days."

  "Current surviving players: 1024"

  "Eliminated players: 873"

  Meaning... eight hundred seventy-three people were already dead?

  "Eliminated... what does that mean?" Li Ming murmured, voice clear in the silent night. "Dead? Or sent back?"

  If dead, then how? Killed by Cleaners? Or... failing in the game meant immediate erasure? Like game over, screen going black, nothing left?

  "Damn."

  He cursed again, voice soft, self-mocking.

  What kind of hell opening was this? Transmigrating as a cultivator was one thing, but now battle royale too? Over a thousand players, only one survivor? Or could multiple survive? If only one, then he'd have to kill everyone else at the end?

  "Stop thinking about this."

  Li Ming forced himself calm, drawing a deep breath. Night wind was cold, cutting his face like knives, but he felt no pain—his nerves were too taut.

  Tonight at midnight, Chen Feng waited at the library. Old Zhou said don't go, he'd handle it. But that black note...

  "Formal game begins now."

  If this was the game's first level, then Chen Feng's matter... was it also part of the game?

  "Or is Chen Feng also a player?"

  The thought made Li Ming's heart skip a beat.

  If Chen Feng was a player, his behavior made sense—threatening him, using him, all to survive. To clear the game, to return to the original world. Then what about Old Zhou? Old Zhou said he'd searched ten years for other transmigrators, so Old Zhou...

  "Also a player?"

  Li Ming stopped, leaning against a roadside tree. Rough bark, deep claw marks like some beast had raked it, exposed wood fibers already blackened. Distant bird cries pierced the night, mournful and sharp, but quickly silenced.

  The night was too thick, even insects stopped chirping. The world seemed dead.

  "If Chen Feng is a player, what's his 'mission'? Stealing techniques? Or..."

  Li Ming couldn't continue.

  Too little information. Guessing was useless. Like coding—you couldn't guess where bugs were, only debug line by line. He needed more data, more evidence.

  "Go to the library."

  He decided, drawing a deep breath.

  Old Zhou said don't go, but Old Zhou's identity was questionable. The black note said Wang Hu was lying, but Wang Hu spoke directly. Chen Feng wanted him to come, but Chen Feng might be a player. Everyone's words could be true or false.

  "Then meet Chen Feng, see what he actually wants."

  Li Ming continued walking, footsteps echoing on stone slabs—tap tap tap.

  The library loomed in the night like a sleeping beast, gray tiles and red pillars, upturned eaves and hanging wind chimes swaying in the breeze, ringing ding ding ding—clear yet eerie. The stone lions at the entrance were missing an ear, the other cracked, looking ferocious in moonlight, like they might pounce any moment.

  Chen Feng had already arrived.

  He stood at the entrance, arms crossed, expression bland, eyes coldly watching Li Ming approach. Two others stood behind him—unfamiliar faces, but by their dress... inner disciples? White robes, cuffs embroidered with Qingyun Sect's emblem, waist tokens gleaming metallic.

  "You're late." Chen Feng spoke, voice flat, no emotion detectable.

  "Not midnight yet." Li Ming checked the sky, the moon high—should be late Hai hour, "Half an incense stick remains."

  "But I hate waiting." Chen Feng approached, looking him up and down, eyes appraising like examining merchandise. "Heard the crystal malfunctioned during your test today?"

  "You saw too."

  "I saw." Chen Feng smiled, something playful in the expression, but eyes still cold. "The crystal showed 'anomaly,' but I still let you pass. Know why?"

  "No."

  "Because you're still useful." Chen Feng said. "But if your value... disappears, that's another matter."

  Li Ming's heart tightened, like a stone dropping into his stomach.

  "So, your answer?" Chen Feng asked. "Help me bring books, or... let Law Enforcement Hall know you went to the back mountain last night?"

  "What books?"

  "*Advanced Qi Circulation Method*." Chen Feng said. "And *Spiritual Energy Circulation Detailed Explanation*. Two books. Tomorrow at dawn, library entrance."

  "What if I say no?"

  Chen Feng was silent several seconds, then smiled. This smile was more obvious, revealing white teeth.

  "You know, Li Ming, outer disciples trespassing forbidden zones get minimum one month confinement. But if..." He paused, eyes turning dangerous, "If also suspected of stealing sect techniques, that's capital offense. Executed on the spot, no intact corpse left."

  "Threatening me?"

  "Business." Chen Feng corrected, tone flat. "You help me bring books, I handle Law Enforcement Hall for you. Fair trade, mutual benefit."

  "What do you want those two books for?"

  "Don't ask what you shouldn't." Chen Feng said. "Tomorrow at dawn, don't be late. Remember, no tricks. My people... are always watching you."

  Then he turned to leave.

  "Wait." Li Ming called out. "If I bring the books, can you guarantee Law Enforcement Hall won't trouble me?"

  "I guarantee." Chen Feng didn't turn back, footsteps tap tap tap. "In Qingyun Sect, my words carry some weight. Some things... what I say goes."

  "What if..." Li Ming paused. "What if I discover those two books have problems?"

  Chen Feng's footsteps stopped.

  "What problems?"

  "Like..." Li Ming said. "Like these two books have 'bugs'?"

  The air solidified for a moment.

  Wind passed the library's eaves, wind chimes ringing, breaking the silence.

  Chen Feng slowly turned, eyes sharpening like knives: "Do you know what you're saying?"

  "I know." Li Ming said, tone calm, no retreat. "Techniques have bugs, not from negligence, but from seals. Right?"

  Chen Feng stared at him for a long time. In moonlight, his expression was unclear, but those eyes... terrifyingly cold.

  "Who told you?"

  "Doesn't matter." Li Ming said. "What matters is, you want me to bring out techniques with bugs, so you must tell me—what are these bugs?"

  Chen Feng was silent.

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  The two inner disciples behind him exchanged glances, hands resting on waist weapons, waiting for his signal—if he nodded, they'd act.

  "You..." Chen Feng spoke, voice soft. "Who are you exactly?"

  "Li Ming. Outer disciple. Mixed five-element roots." Li Ming said. "Three months without breakthrough, suddenly Qi Refinement Layer One yesterday. You think this is normal?"

  "Not normal." Chen Feng admitted. "But in Qingyun Sect, abnormal things happen all the time. You're not the only one."

  "Like?"

  "Like..." Chen Feng paused, eyes drifting elsewhere, like remembering. "Like some techniques were deliberately written this way."

  "Why?"

  "Because some things... mustn't be learned." Chen Feng said. "Complete techniques would make people... see things they shouldn't. Would make people... go mad."

  "See what?"

  Chen Feng shook his head: "I can't say. Saying it benefits neither of us. Some things... once known, you can't turn back."

  "Then you still want me to steal them?"

  "Because I have my reasons." Chen Feng said. "Like you have yours. Everyone has reasons, everyone has things they must do."

  Li Ming fell silent.

  Chen Feng was right. He had reasons too—he wanted to survive, to clear this game, to know the truth. Even if the truth was terrible, even if it would make him regret.

  "Fine." Li Ming said. "I'll help you bring them. But one condition."

  "What condition?"

  "Tell me who you are." Li Ming stared at him. "You're not an ordinary inner disciple. Your knowledge of techniques far exceeds normal. And... you know about the game, right?"

  Chen Feng froze, then smiled. This smile wasn't playful, but... resigned?

  "Who I am doesn't matter." Chen Feng said. "What matters is, do you want to survive."

  "Yes."

  "Then do as I say." Chen Feng said. "Tomorrow at dawn, library entrance. Don't bring anyone, don't tell anyone. Or else..."

  "Or else what?"

  "Or else those 873 eliminated players—that's your fate."

  Li Ming's heart jumped—thump thump thump.

  "You know... about the game?"

  Chen Feng didn't answer, turning and leaving. His silhouette stretched long in moonlight, like a shadow, quickly vanishing behind the library.

  "Tomorrow at dawn. Don't be late."

  His voice echoed in the night, then gradually faded.

  Li Ming stood there, watching their backs disappear, palm covered in cold sweat.

  Chen Feng knew about the game.

  Then he... was also a player?

  If he was a player, why threaten another player? Why not clear the game together?

  "Damn."

  Li Ming cursed softly, turning back.

  After a few steps, he felt—

  Someone watching him.

  Not Chen Feng, not Old Zhou, not Cleaners. This gaze... more familiar, more like...

  "Wang Hu?"

  Li Ming turned.

  Wang Hu emerged from shadows, face pale like he was injured—a wound on his left arm still bleeding, staining his sleeve.

  "You..." Li Ming frowned. "What are you doing here?"

  "Warning you." Wang Hu said, voice trembling. "Don't trust Chen Feng. He's..."

  "He said the same about Old Zhou." Li Ming said. "Then who can be trusted?"

  "I..." Wang Hu paused. "I'm different from them."

  "How different?"

  "Because..." Wang Hu rolled up his sleeve, revealing his arm.

  On his arm, a line of text. Not a tattoo, like... carved? The wound had healed, but the text remained, gleaming faint golden in moonlight, flashing:

  "Player 487"

  Li Ming's eyes went wide, mouth forming an O.

  "You're also..."

  "A player." Wang Hu said, lowering his sleeve. "I arrived three months before you."

  "Then Chen Feng..."

  "Also." Wang Hu said. "But he... is different. He already..."

  "Already what?"

  "Already stopped being human." Wang Hu said, voice soft, like afraid of being heard. "He accepted the 'system's' mission, became... an Executor."

  "Executor?"

  "Players who help the game eliminate other players." Wang Hu said. "A type of Cleaner. But Cleaners are NPCs, Executors are... fallen players."

  Ice ran down Li Ming's back, like cold water flowing down his spine.

  "Then why are you..."

  "Why still alive?" Wang Hu laughed bitterly, resignation in the sound. "Because I learned to play dead. I pretended to be eliminated, but actually... I'm still here."

  "How did you fake it?"

  "Modified my own 'status code.'" Wang Hu said. "Changed alive = True to alive = False. The system thought I was dead, stopped sending Cleaners to hunt me."

  Li Ming froze.

  This operation... he could do it too? With his system, modify his own status?

  "But there's a side effect." Wang Hu said. "Living people can't sense spiritual energy. I've faked it for three months, cultivation hasn't increased at all, still Qi Refinement Layer Two. And... system functions are limited, many unusable."

  "Then why did you find me?"

  "Because you're new." Wang Hu said. "New players have advantages. You haven't been marked by the system, haven't been targeted by Cleaners, you still have a chance."

  "What chance?"

  "Chance to clear the game." Wang Hu said. "I searched three months, discovered something—this game isn't battle royale."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Not only one can survive." Wang Hu said. "Multiple can survive, but... requires cooperation. Only multiple players cooperating can find the method to clear."

  "Cooperate with whom?"

  "Other players." Wang Hu said. "But the problem is, you can't tell who's a player, who's a Cleaner, who's an Executor. Everyone's acting, everyone's disguised."

  "Chen Feng is a Cleaner?"

  "He's an Executor." Wang Hu said. "More troublesome than Cleaners. Cleaners are NPCs, follow programs, have patterns. Executors are... fallen players, they have human thinking, human cunning, harder to deal with."

  Li Ming fell silent.

  "So your advice?"

  "Trust no one." Wang Hu said. "Including Old Zhou, including me. Only trust yourself. Your judgment, your intuition, your system."

  "Then why help me?"

  "Because..." Wang Hu paused, eyes drifting elsewhere. "Because I owe someone a favor."

  "Whose favor?"

  "A... player who already died." Wang Hu said, voice soft, carrying a choke. "Before he died, he told me if I met a new player, help them. He said... someone had to do it."

  "How did he die?"

  "Killed by Chen Feng." Wang Hu said, fists clenching. "I saw it with my own eyes. Chen Feng pierced his heart with a sword, then... smiled telling me he was an Executor, he did it to survive."

  Li Ming clenched his fist, nails digging into flesh, palm bleeding.

  "Then why are you still alive?"

  "Because I ran fast." Wang Hu said. "And because... I learned to hide."

  "How to hide?"

  "Code disguise." Wang Hu said. "You have it too? The booklet Old Zhou gave you."

  Li Ming's heart tightened: "How do you know?"

  "Because I have one too." Wang Hu said. "Every new player, someone gives them one. Might be Old Zhou, might be others, but... someone always gives. This is... our rule."

  "Then who's helping players?"

  "Guides." Wang Hu said. "But Guides... aren't all good. Some are Cleaners in disguise, trying to trick players into exposing themselves. Some are Executors in disguise, trying to pull players down. And some... are real, wanting to help players clear."

  "Then how to tell them apart?"

  "Look at code." Wang Hu said. "Cleaner code is complete, player code has bugs. Because we're 'outsiders,' this world's rules don't apply to us."

  "But Old Zhou said..."

  "What did Old Zhou say?"

  "Old Zhou said Cleaner code is complete, player code has bugs." Li Ming said. "Same as you."

  Wang Hu was silent several seconds, something like confusion flashing in his eyes.

  "Then judge for yourself." Wang Hu said. "I shouldn't have come tonight, too risky. Chen Feng may have already found me. If he knows I'm still alive..."

  "Then you..."

  "I'm leaving." Wang Hu said, turning to go. "Remember, tomorrow go to the library, don't bring real books. Bring fakes."

  "Fakes?"

  "Techniques can be copied." Wang Hu said. "With your system, you should be able to copy. Copy a fake for Chen Feng, keep the real one."

  "Why?"

  "Because those techniques... might be useful." Wang Hu said. "Techniques with bugs might be... weapons. Weapons against this game."

  Then he turned to leave.

  "Wait." Li Ming called out. "One last question—why help me? You don't even know me."

  Wang Hu stopped, back to him. Wind blew, leaves rustling.

  "Because I don't want to see anyone... die before me like he did." Wang Hu said, voice soft. "When he died, he smiled telling me not to give up, not to be beaten by the game. He said... we could definitely clear it."

  Then he vanished into the night, quickly out of sight.

  Li Ming stood there, watching his back disappear, clutching the black note.

  "Survive seven days."

  "Current surviving players: 1024"

  "Eliminated players: 873"

  1024 players, 873 already dead.

  Then the remaining 151...

  "How many are real players, how many are Cleaners in disguise, how many are Executors in disguise?"

  He found no answer to this question.

  He turned back.

  As he reached his room door, he found another note slipped beneath.

  Li Ming bent to pick it up—white paper, ordinary, but the handwriting...

  "Wang Hu is lying. He is the Executor."

  No signature, no time.

  But the handwriting... same as Old Zhou's. Neat, old-fashioned, like calligraphy.

  Li Ming held the note, palm sweating so much the paper grew damp.

  Wang Hu said Old Zhou couldn't be trusted, Old Zhou was a Cleaner.

  Old Zhou said Wang Hu couldn't be trusted, Wang Hu was an Executor.

  Then who was real?

  Or... were both lying? Or did both have some truth?

  "Damn."

  He cursed, pushing open the door.

  Everything in the room seemed normal. Bed, table, wardrobe, all in original positions. The oil lamp still burned, flame swaying, stretching shadows long.

  But something... was different.

  In the air, a strange scent. Very faint, nearly undetectable, but Li Ming could sense it—the smell of blood.

  He walked to the bed, sat down, closed his eyes.

  The system interface appeared before him, pale green text flickering in darkness:

  [Cultivation] Qi Refinement Layer One 1/200

  [Functions] Code View, Technique Analysis, Bug Fix, Counter-Tracking

  [Status] Disguise active (Cleaner detection difficulty +50%)

  [Restriction] 30% system function disabled

  "Counter-Tracking..."

  Li Ming remembered this new function.

  Could trace Cleaner locations in reverse.

  "If I use this function, track Wang Hu..."

  He hesitated.

  Using it meant the other party would know he was tracking. But not using it, he'd never know if Wang Hu spoke truth or lies.

  "Gamble."

  Li Ming drew a deep breath, concentrating, activating Counter-Tracking.

  The system interface flashed, then displayed a line of text, golden, conspicuous in darkness:

  [Tracking result] Target: Wang Hu

  [Identity] Player (surviving)

  [Status] Disguise active (disguise level 73%)

  [Threat level] Low

  "Player... real?"

  Li Ming relaxed.

  But the next second, the system popped another notification, red and flashing:

  [Warning] Multiple disguises detected

  [Hint] Target may be hiding true identity

  [Recommendation] Use advanced scan (requires unlock)

  "Advanced scan..."

  Li Ming frowned.

  What needed unlocking? He checked the system interface, finding a new grayed-out option:

  [Advanced scan] Locked (requires cultivation: Qi Refinement Layer Three)

  "Need two more breakthroughs..."

  Li Ming laughed bitterly.

  This game really pressed every step, each level harder than the last. Like coding—fix one bug, ten more appear.

  He lay on the bed, closing his eyes. The blankets still held dampness, somewhat cold, but he couldn't care anymore.

  Tomorrow at dawn, go to the library.

  Bring real books or fake ones?

  Trust Wang Hu or Old Zhou?

  What exactly was Chen Feng? Player? Executor? Or... something else?

  Those 873 dead players... how did they die? Killed by Cleaners? Erased by the game? Or...

  These questions echoed in his mind like an infinite loop, impossible to escape.

  But he was too tired.

  Six days since transmigration, he hadn't slept well once. Every day tension, calculation, danger—even closing his eyes feared someone stabbing from behind.

  "Sleep first..."

  Li Ming closed his eyes, trying to relax.

  Consciousness slowly blurred.

  In the final moment before losing awareness, he heard a voice, like coming from far away, or emerging from deep in his mind:

  "Player 1025, welcome to the game."

  "Your mission is..."

  The voice vanished, as suddenly as it appeared.

  Li Ming fell asleep.

  He didn't know that after he slept, the black bug in the room's corner crawled out again.

  It crawled to the bedside, watching Li Ming's sleeping face, something strange flashing in those pupil-less eyes. Then...

  Its body began transforming, six legs slowly disappearing, black shell cracking, becoming a slip of paper.

  The paper fell to the floor, bearing only one line, golden characters glittering in darkness:

  "Don't sleep. Someone is in your dream."