“Void?”
Li Ran turned his head in surprise, looking at those ghostly shadows within the barrier.
“Infected beings who die inside the instance resurrect in the Dark Palace. Most have their memories wiped and exist like walking corpses. Some Voids retain their memories and personalities from life, and some Voids are sent back into the world,” Zhao Yingzhi said.
The information Zhao Yingzhi provided was immensely important—practically explosive. It unveiled the structure of the world and the long-standing mystery that had plagued them.
It also confirmed Li Ran’s earlier suspicions.
The original inhabitants of Happy Homeland were actually evolved from past players.
This indirectly proved that the eerie world had always been selecting humans to enter the world, and not just from Earth.
“How do you know all this?” Li Ran asked.
“Sister Yang Ping told me,” Zhao Yingzhi turned her head to look away.
(She's lying.)
The golden finger gave a prompt, but Li Ran didn’t expose her.
How could Yang Ping possibly know this information? She only retained memories from her last day alive, endlessly looping through them.
Even if Zhao Yingzhi didn’t say it, Li Ran could guess—the other soul inside her told her. As for what was used to pry that soul's mouth open, that was anyone’s guess.
It seemed that the soul inside her was not simple.
“Then what’s the difference between a Void and a native inhabitant?” Lu Zhaohui asked.
Li Ran explained, “The natives are like Voids implanted with identity memories. They don’t know they’re Voids—on the contrary, they live as if they were human.”
Hearing this, Lu Zhaohui suddenly understood. No wonder they ignored the transformation of natives into monsters, as if nothing had happened.
“This is even worse than hell. In hell, at least there’s reincarnation after death. Here, death means eternal imprisonment,” Lu Zhaohui said with horror.
Zhao Yingzhi added, “That’s not entirely correct. Players who die without being infected by the virus are truly dead. Only virus-infected players become Voids after death.”
Li Ran looked at Zhao Yingzhi in surprise. If she hadn’t returned from the Dark Palace, they wouldn’t have learned such critical information.
He couldn’t help but think of those “awakened” natives.
Had Su Bingyao awakened her player memories?
“The ‘Boundary Gate’ mentioned in the video is actually a doorway to the dark world—it might be hidden deep within the Dark Palace,” Zhao Yingzhi said.
Li Ran looked toward the void outside the barrier, a chill running through his heart. “Is that the dark world?”
If the dark world was seen as a vast realm, then within it existed countless eerie world. Each world corresponded to monsters of a specific level. The Dark Palace was the danger zone of the newbie village, and Happy Homeland was the safe zone.
But even this so-called safe zone had nearly wiped out all players.
What puzzled Li Ran was why the video version of Su Bingyao said that the only way to survive was to find the Boundary Gate. Wouldn’t entering the Dark Palace into the dark world be more dangerous?
Could the Boundary Gate actually be an absolute safe zone?
Even Zhao Yingzhi couldn’t answer that question.
Only by truly reaching the Boundary Gate would the truth be known.
“Where did you get the camera?” Li Ran asked.
“Sister Yang Ping picked it up while taking me to deliver food,” Zhao Yingzhi replied.
A thought suddenly occurred to Li Ran—to take the video back and show it to Su Bingyao. But he quickly killed that idea.
He was terrified that Su Bingyao might reveal something in front of her—or tell him some secret—and end up getting “erased” like a madman.
Li Ran looked up at the gloomy sky. It felt as though a pair of eyes were watching him from deep within the clouds.
“Today is the eleventh day. At midnight three days from now, Eternal Night will begin. The Night of Madness starts then. If we don’t find a place safe enough to survive those nights, entering the Dark Palace will be our only option!” Li Ran said.
Lu Zhaohui’s face turned serious as he replied, “Brother Ran, I felt fine before, but now that you said that, I feel like someone just pressed the countdown button.”
They all had that feeling—suddenly realizing time was running out.
Zhao Yingzhi pursed her lips, then walked toward the small car. “I’ve got something to do. I’m leaving first.”
Li Ran felt it too. What had once felt like a long time now felt like just a few short days left.
“Brother Ran, I’m heading back too.”
“Alright.”
Li Ran remained where he stood, his eyes piercing through the barrier and into that void world.
“The Boundary Gate?”
He could no longer access the Safe House through the dark portal. When the Night of Madness came, if there were no other safe zones, breaking into the Dark Palace would be the only option.
The “Boundary Gate” mentioned in the video was of utmost importance.
If that clue was true, the Boundary Gate could be the only hope for a player’s survival.
Li Ran thought of someone who might be able to answer his questions about the “Boundary Gate.”
With that thought, Li Ran took out his phone and made a call.
“Hello, Captain Zhang? It’s me.”
“That mission’s on hold? Oh, no worries, I wasn’t in a rush anyway.”
Captain Zhang referred to the mission involving an old swindler. Originally, the plan was to act according to schedule, but due to a new situation—children disappearing in the neighborhood—the mission was shelved.
This was the first time Li Ran had encountered a suspended mission. If this were a game, it would be considered a program error or a bug.
That mission appeared dim and inactive on his mission panel.
“By the way, Captain Zhang, I’d like to ask you about something. Are you available right now?” Li Ran asked over the phone.
“I’ll come to you.”
Li Ran went to the address Captain Zhang provided and waited outside a house.
Captain Zhang was dealing with a case inside, so Li Ran had to wait outside.
“Xiao Feng, take the statement.”
“Okay.”
After finishing up, Captain Zhang walked over to Li Ran at the door.
“Another missing kid?” Li Ran asked.
“One kid a day for three days in a row. The higher-ups keep pressuring us, and the police are overwhelmed,” Captain Zhang replied, with dark circles under his eyes. He lit a cigarette to stay alert.
Li Ran declined the cigarette and asked quickly, “No leads at all?”
Captain Zhang shook his head and sighed, “The culprit’s cunning—choosing remote areas with no surveillance and using luring techniques. The targets are kids aged 4 to 10.”
Earlier, while Li Ran was standing outside, he heard the child’s mother crying her heart out inside. That’s how he knew immediately another child had gone missing.
Captain Zhang looked up at Li Ran. “So, what did you come to ask me?”
“I want to ask you about the Dark Palace,” Li Ran said.
Captain Zhang’s expression changed instantly. His attitude shifted sharply as he replied, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Li Ran wasn’t surprised. He smiled faintly and said, “What if I can provide a clue about the missing child case?”
Captain Zhang’s brows visibly relaxed. He’d been completely drained by this case—pressure from family, the community, and superiors. He hadn’t slept well in days.
Hearing that Li Ran might have a lead came as a big surprise.
“Can you provide a clue?”
(End of Chapter)