Bai Yu’s voice was not loud, but in the conference room where even a falling pin could be heard, it was like a boulder hurled into a deep pool, sending ripples spreading layer upon layer. Every word struck clearly against the hearts of everyone present.
For the first time, undisguised anger surfaced on An Mu’s face—that face that was always as firm as if carved by a blade. He slammed his palm down on the table with a muffled bang, jolting the cups atop it.
“Nonsense!” he roared, his sharp gaze locking onto Bai Yu like a hawk. “I’ll say it again: you are currently under the highest-priority mandatory recuperation order! Do you not know the state of your own body? This is not the time for you to play the hero!”
“I know it very well.” Bai Yu calmly met his captain’s fury, his gaze not wavering in the slightest. “It is precisely because I know that I have to go.”
He extended a finger and lightly tapped the eerie photograph on the holographic projection—the paper figures escorting the bride.
“Captain, you understand better than I do what we’re facing. A rule-twisting malignant nightmare, and a high-level type rooted in ancient folk customs and collective fear. Its core isn’t the intensity of its energy, but the ‘rules’ themselves. Conventional physical expulsion and energy confrontation will have little effect on it. They may even trigger more dangerous death rules. If we want to break this situation, someone has to be able to delve into the core of its rules, understand them, and even… use them.”
His gaze swept across everyone present before finally returning to An Mu’s face.
“In the Nightmare Investigation Bureau, when it comes to affinity with and analytical ability regarding ‘rules,’ no one is more suitable than I am. Or rather, no one is more suitable than ‘we’ are.”
He spoke those last few words very softly. But Mo Fei and Lan Ce both understood. He meant himself and the terrifying nightmare within him—Hei Yan.
Mo Fei irritably scratched at his short hair, his face filled with conflict and worry. He wanted to rush over and press Bai Yu back into the rest chamber, but he also knew that Bai Yu was telling the truth. Faced with something this strange, that brute strength he was so proud of might not even be able to lift the curtain of the bridal sedan.
“Old Bai…” he began with difficulty. “But your body…”
“My body exists to be used at times like this.” Bai Yu cut him off. His tone remained calm, yet carried a resolution that brooked no doubt.
Lan Ce, who had remained silent all this time, pushed up the glasses on the bridge of his nose. The lenses reflected the ominous red light of the screen. He brought up another set of data, and a cold electronic voice rang out.
“Captain, based on the current intelligence, a preliminary modeling analysis has been conducted. The target malignant nightmare’s danger level is provisionally designated as ‘Disaster-class.’ If a conventional A-rank squad is dispatched, under the premise that the core rules cannot be analyzed, the mission success rate is… 1.7 percent, with squad member survival rates below 5 percent. But if…”
Lan Ce paused and looked up at Bai Yu, his eyes complicated.
“If Bai Yu joins the operation as the rule-analysis core, then based on his past data from handling similar incidents, the mission success rate will rise to 43 percent, and the squad survival rate will rise to 65 percent.”
Cold data was often more persuasive than any words.
A 43 percent success rate was still terrifyingly low, but compared with that despairing 1.7 percent, it was the difference between heaven and earth. It meant that Bai Yu’s participation could pull the entire squad back from the abyss of “certain death” to the cliff edge of “perhaps survival.”
An Mu’s fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles had gone white. Of course he knew all this. He simply could not easily push his most capable and most worrying team member toward the brink of collapse once again. That scene from a year ago remained, to this day, a nightmare he could not erase from his heart.
Bai Yu looked at him and suddenly softened his tone. “Captain, I’m not making a request. I’m stating a fact. For this mission, you need me.”
The conference room fell into a long silence. Only the low hum of the instruments and the heavy breathing of the people present remained.
At last, An Mu slowly loosened his tightly clenched fists. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, the anger in them had faded, leaving only boundless exhaustion and the resolve of a commander.
“Lan Ce.”
“Here.”
“Add Bai Yu to the operation roster. Operation squad members: myself, Bai Yu, Mo Fei, Lan Ce. All other personnel are responsible for the outer perimeter lockdown and logistical support.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Mo Fei.”
“Here!”
“Go to the armory and retrieve the ‘Soul-Calming’ set and the highest-level ‘wakefulness agents.’ Double-check everyone’s equipment. I don’t want anything going wrong at a critical moment.”
“Understood!” Mo Fei immediately turned and strode out, as though trying to conceal his emotions through action.
“Bai Yu.”
“Here.”
An Mu walked up to him and pressed a hand heavily onto his shoulder. The weight in that grip was immense.
“I have only one requirement.” He stared into Bai Yu’s eyes and said, word by word, “Come back alive. That is an order.”
“…Yes.” Bai Yu was silent for a moment, then nodded.
The mission was thus decided.
Half an hour later, at the Investigation Bureau’s dedicated underground deployment exit, the atmosphere was grim and killing-cold.
The four of them had already changed into specially made black combat suits. The material was light yet tough, with faint energy patterns attached to the surface, capable of isolating them from the mental erosion of malignant nightmares to the greatest extent. Mo Fei carried a huge equipment case on his back, filled with heavy gear for various purposes, and two of his customary high-frequency battle axes hung at his waist. Lan Ce was calibrating a precision instrument on his wrist—the newest model of the “Rule Fluctuation Detector,” capable of preliminarily sensing and analyzing the force field of rule-based malignant nightmares. An Mu was conducting the final communication checks, his expression having returned to a calm as still as an ancient well.
Bai Yu stood to one side, having only slipped a specially made short blade into the back of his belt. The scabbard and hilt were made from a material called “mind-calming wood,” which could soothe the user’s spirit. Aside from that, he carried no heavy weaponry. Because he himself was the most dangerous weapon.
He could feel Hei Yan within him whispering excitedly because of the “feast” that was about to arrive. It was a sensation mixed with cruelty, anticipation, and the delight of an artist about to appreciate a masterpiece.
“I truly can hardly wait, my dear little Bai Yu. Collective fear rooted in ancient ignorance often gives birth to the most delicious ‘rules.’ I wonder what kind of pleasing wail it will make when we tear it apart?”
Bai Yu ignored its whispers and merely turned his gaze toward the profound darkness beyond the deployment exit. A specially modified black armored off-road vehicle sat there silently, like a fierce beast ready to pounce.
“Move out,” An Mu gave the final order.
The four boarded the vehicle in succession. The doors closed, cutting off the bright lights inside the base. Within the vehicle, only the instrument panel emitted a faint green glow, illuminating each grave face. The engine let out a low roar, and the off-road vehicle abruptly charged into the dark tunnel, racing toward the surface.
The vehicle drove out of the Investigation Bureau’s secret exit and merged into the traffic of the late-night city. Outside the windows, neon lights flickered and high-rises stood in dense ranks—a scene of peace and prosperity.
The off-road vehicle headed south, gradually leaving behind the clamor of the city. Streetlights grew sparse, and the high-rises were replaced by low bungalows and stretches of fields. Finally, the vehicle left the main road and turned onto a rugged mountain path. A damp smell began to permeate the air, mixed with mud and rotting vegetation.
“We’ve entered the outer perimeter of the target area.” Lan Ce’s voice sounded in the quiet carriage. “From this point on, communications may be interfered with. Everyone, activate your mental stabilization rings.”
The four of them simultaneously pressed the buttons on the metal rings at their necks. A faint, cool sensation instantly spread throughout their bodies, resisting the invisible erosion from outside.
The vehicle continued along the mountain road for another dozen minutes before An Mu suddenly hit the brakes.
“Stop.”
The beams of the headlights pierced the darkness, illuminating the area ahead. The mountain road that should have continued onward was enveloped by a red fog so thick it could not be dispersed. The fog rolled slowly as if alive, viscous as coagulated blood, completely devouring everything ahead. At the edge of the red fog stood an old stone stele, crooked and weathered. On it, three large characters had been carved in cinnabar that had long since faded.
Luoshui Village.
“…We’re here,” Mo Fei murmured to himself.
Just then, the faint sound of a suona pierced through the vehicle’s soundproofing. That sound drifted slowly out from the blood-colored dense fog.
At first, the suona sounded very distant, like the sobbing of wind between mountain valleys. But within only a few breaths, it became much clearer. The tune it played was not any melody familiar to people. When it rose high, it was like the shriek of a vengeful ghost, able to pierce the eardrums and reach deep into the soul. When it fell low, it was like a resentful woman weeping at night, lingering and plaintive, filled with endless sorrow and despair. Stranger still, these two utterly different emotions were perfectly blended into the same melody, forming an eerie harmony that made one’s heart and courage split apart.
“Get out.” An Mu’s voice was steady as ever. He was the first to push open the door, and a cold, damp draft immediately poured in, mixed with a thick scent of rust, as though they had stepped into a slaughterhouse long sealed shut.
The other three followed close behind. Only when they had all stood before the stone stele did they truly feel the oppressive force of the red fog. It was not ethereal like ordinary mist, but like a tangible wall, writhing with an ominous rhythm. The beams of the headlights shone onto it, but not only failed to penetrate, they were instead dyed with a strange layer of blood-red, making everything around them appear bizarre and distorted.
“Lan Ce, data,” An Mu ordered.
Lan Ce raised his wrist and looked at the precision “Rule Fluctuation Detector,” his brows knitting tightly together. “…The readings are chaotic. Captain, the instrument shows that the spatial parameters, energy index, and even the flow rate of time here are all undergoing violent, irregular fluctuations. It’s like… throwing the instrument into a blender running at high speed. I can’t obtain any valid data.”
“So in other words, we’re blind?” Mo Fei tightened his grip on the battle axe at his waist and warily scanned the surroundings. The suona seemed to be everywhere, burrowing into his ears from every direction, filling him with waves of irritation and restlessness. Even the speed of his blood flow seemed to have accelerated.
“Not just blind.” Bai Yu suddenly spoke. His voice was very soft, yet it made everyone’s hearts rise. From beginning to end, he had not looked at the stone stele, nor at the rolling red fog. Instead, he had slightly closed his eyes, as if listening to something.
“This fog… is ‘inviting’ us.”
“Inviting? This is a damn banquet at Hongmen!” Mo Fei spat.
“Heh… what a vulgar metaphor.” Hei Yan’s voice lazily sounded in Bai Yu’s mind, carrying a trace of appreciation. “This is far more elegant than any mortal banquet. Can’t you feel it, my dear little Bai Yu? Every particle in this fog is softly chanting a poem of ‘rules.’ They are saying: ‘Come in. Observe my etiquette. Otherwise, become a part of me.’ What a courteous threat.”
An Mu looked at Bai Yu, asking with his eyes.
Bai Yu opened his eyes and nodded. “We have no other choice. We can only go in. But from the moment we step into the red fog, every movement we make must be careful. Here, the logic of reality no longer applies.”
“Everyone, prepare.” An Mu took a deep breath and made his decision. “Maintain formation. I’ll take the lead, Mo Fei brings up the rear, Bai Yu and Lan Ce in the middle. No matter what you see or hear, without my order, absolutely do not act on your own.”
“Yes!”
The four formed a diamond tactical formation and walked step by step toward the blood-colored dense fog that seemed like a living creature.
The instant An Mu’s combat boot entered the red fog, it was as though he had passed through a cold, viscous membrane. The scenery before them did not change immediately, but everything around them began to feel unreal. The off-road vehicle behind them and the mountain road they had come from were completely swallowed by the dense fog in only a few breaths, as if they had never existed. They were utterly cut off.
The shrill suona sound abruptly increased severalfold the moment they entered the fog. It no longer seemed to come from afar, but as if countless invisible musicians were pressing against their eardrums and playing madly.
Mo Fei’s temples throbbed. He felt as if the rhythm of his heartbeat was about to be assimilated by that eerie tune. Lan Ce’s face also turned somewhat pale; the screen of the detector on his wrist had already become nothing but glaring static.
Only Bai Yu’s expression remained calm. Under the protection of Hei Yan’s power, these direct attacks on the mental level affected him very little. What he cared about more were the “rules” contained within the fog.
“They’re stripping away our sense of direction,” Bai Yu reminded them softly. “Don’t trust your eyes. Follow my steps.”
As he spoke, his footsteps did not pause in the slightest, as if he could clearly see the path even in darkness. An Mu and the others immediately focused their minds and closely followed behind him. In this space distorted by rules, Bai Yu’s perception was far more reliable than any high-tech instrument.
They walked through the red fog for an unknown length of time—perhaps a few minutes, perhaps several hours. Here, even their sense of time had become hazy and unclear. At last, the fog ahead seemed to thin somewhat, and the outlines of several buildings could be faintly seen.
It was also at that moment that the suona became even more piercing, as if announcing something.
Immediately afterward, the rustling sound of paper scraping against the ground arose. The sound was orderly and uniform, approaching from afar and entering their ears.
“Conceal yourselves!” An Mu immediately signaled.
The four quickly flashed behind a withered tree shrouded in red fog and held their breaths.
A strange procession slowly “walked” out of the dense fog ahead of them.
It was precisely the wedding procession they had seen in the photograph.
Walking at the very front were two paper figures about the height of a person. They had been crafted so lifelike that they looked almost real, dressed in ancient constable attire. Two extremely incongruous round patches of rouge had been painted on their faces with cinnabar, and their mouths were split open, outlining stiff and eerie smiles. Each carried a white lantern in hand. On the lanterns, a large “囍” character was written in black ink, but what seeped out from within was a ghostly green glow like will-o’-the-wisps. The green light shone on their paper-pasted faces, making their smiles appear even more sinister and terrifying.
Their steps were strange. Rather than walking, it would be more accurate to say they were “floating.” Their feet hovered about an inch above the ground, and as their bodies swayed, they produced a rustling sound against the ground covered in rotting leaves, as if they had no weight at all.
Behind the two paper figures clearing the way was a grand sedan carried by eight bearers. The sedan was an auspicious bright red, embroidered with golden threads depicting dragons and phoenixes bringing good fortune, but that red was dark and dull, like dried bloodstains. Carrying the sedan were four equally tall paper figures. They wore the short garments of sedan bearers, their bodies rocking rhythmically back and forth with each step, the range of motion so exaggerated that they seemed ready to fall apart at any moment. The sedan curtain was tightly closed, making it impossible to see what sat inside.
At the end of the procession followed a dozen or so villagers. They all wore washed-out blue cloth clothing, and without exception, their faces bore the same stiff smiles as the paper figures. Their eyes were hollow, staring straight ahead, like a group of puppets controlled by invisible strings. Their movements were equally rigid; every step seemed to have been precisely calculated, uniform and orderly without the slightest disorder.
This silent and eerie procession slowly passed before the withered tree where they were hiding, accompanied by the shrill sound of the suona. Mo Fei’s heart climbed into his throat. He could even smell the scent emanating from those paper figures: old paper mixed with the odor left after incense and candles had burned.
However, just as the procession was about to pass completely before them, an abrupt change occurred.
The paper figure at the very front, the one holding the lantern, suddenly stopped. Immediately afterward, the entire procession stopped as well, and the suona sound came to an abrupt halt.
Time seemed to freeze at that moment.
“Crack… crack… crack…”
Amid the sound of bones shifting out of place, the stopped paper figure slowly turned its head. Its neck twisted to an unimaginable angle. In the end, that face painted with an eerie smile was aimed directly toward the withered tree where they were hiding.
It had “seen” them.
Mo Fei’s muscles instantly tensed, and the veins on the hand gripping his battle axe bulged. An Mu seized his shoulder, the force so great it nearly crushed his bones, and stopped his impulse with a look.
“Don’t move.” Bai Yu’s voice sounded in their minds. This was the short-range mental link established through the mental stabilization rings. “It isn’t ‘looking’ at us. It’s waiting.”
“Waiting for what?” Mo Fei growled through the mental link.
“For us to make a mistake.”
The paper figure simply “stared” at them in silence. Beneath the ghostly green light, the smile on its face appeared incomparably wicked. It made no further move, but the pressure brought by this silent standoff was more terrifying than any direct attack.
“Oh, what an interesting little game.” Hei Yan’s voice was filled with interest. “It is testing whether you understand ‘etiquette.’ Hiding and skulking before the host’s wedding procession is extremely rude behavior for ‘guests,’ you know. Now that it has stopped, it is giving you a chance to correct yourselves.”
“What do you mean? It wants us to go out?” Mo Fei could hardly believe it.
“And after we go out?” Lan Ce analyzed calmly. “Attack? Negotiate? Or… surrender without resistance? Any wrong choice could trigger a death rule.”
Bai Yu did not speak. His mind was racing, combining and analyzing every detail before his eyes with the hints Hei Yan had provided. Etiquette, guests, wedding…
He suddenly noticed one detail. Although the paper figure was facing them, the focus of its ink-dotted eyes was not on any one of them, but on an empty patch of ground about three steps in front of them.
There did not seem to be anything different about that spot.
“No… that’s not right.” Bai Yu’s pupils contracted slightly. On that patch of ground, the fallen leaves seemed to be piled more sparsely than the surrounding area, faintly forming an inconspicuous circle.
“It’s the ‘standing position,’” Bai Yu quickly said through the mental link. “This isn’t a multiple-choice question. It’s a procedure. We are ‘guests.’ Now that we’ve encountered the ‘host family’s’ procession, what we should do is… make way, and stand where guests should stand, respectfully welcoming the procession as it passes.”
“How can you be sure?” An Mu asked.
“Intuition, and… its gaze,” Bai Yu explained. “It isn’t looking at us. It’s looking at that spot. It’s prompting us—or rather, ordering us—to stand there.”
“That’s too risky! What if it’s a trap?” Mo Fei objected.
“We are already inside the trap.” Bai Yu’s tone allowed no doubt. “Not following the rules is the greatest risk. Captain, trust me.”
An Mu looked deeply at Bai Yu, then finally nodded. “Do as you said. I’ll go first.”
“No, I will.” Bai Yu stopped him. “Hei Yan is the only means we have to resist the rules to a certain extent. If my judgment is wrong, my chance of survival is the highest. I’ll stand in that position first. You observe the situation before moving.”
After speaking, without waiting for An Mu to object again, he took a deep breath and slowly walked out from behind the withered tree.
The instant he revealed himself, the surrounding temperature seemed to drop by several degrees. The dozen or so puppet-like villagers all turned their hollow gazes toward him in unison. It was a gaze devoid of any emotion, as if they were looking at a lifeless object.
Under immense pressure, Bai Yu kept his eyes forward and walked step by steady step to the circular area he had identified. Then he stopped, lowered his head slightly, and assumed a respectful posture.
The moment he stood in place, a miracle occurred.
The eerie smile on the paper figure’s face seemed… to widen by a fraction. Its twisted neck turned back with cracking sounds, facing forward once more.
The crisis seemed to have been resolved.
Seeing this, An Mu, Mo Fei, and Lan Ce immediately understood that Bai Yu’s judgment had been correct. They hesitated no longer and walked out from behind the tree one after another, imitating Bai Yu as they stood in the positions behind him, forming a line and lowering their heads solemnly.
Once all four of them were in position, the halted procession moved again.
The suona sounded once more. The paper figures took stiff steps, carrying the bridal sedan and leading the villagers behind them as they slowly passed before the four. This time, none of them looked at them again, as if they truly were merely a few guests by the roadside who had come to offer congratulations.
Only after the entire procession had passed and vanished into the red fog ahead did the four of them simultaneously let out a breath. Only then did Mo Fei realize that his back was completely soaked with cold sweat.
“Damn… this is more thrilling than fighting an S-rank manifested malignant nightmare,” he cursed under his breath.
“Welcome to the world of rules.” Bai Yu’s face was also somewhat pale. That step just now had staked the lives of the entire squad.
“What do we do now? Follow them?” Lan Ce asked.
“We have no other choice.” An Mu looked in the direction where the procession had disappeared. “We have already been ‘marked’ as guests. If we don’t follow them to attend the wedding, I’m afraid we’ll trigger even more terrifying rules. Move.”
The four set out once more, following the clear traces left by the procession as they headed deeper into the red fog.
This time, they had not gone far before the fog ahead completely dispersed. An ancient, dilapidated village appeared before their eyes.
At the village entrance stood a mottled wooden archway. The three characters “Luoshui Village” upon it were already blurred beyond recognition. On the two pillars of the archway, one side was pasted with white funeral couplets, while the other was hung with large red silk flowers. Red and white mixed together, indescribably strange. The houses in the village were all old-style buildings with black-tiled roofs and mud walls. At every household’s entrance hung a white lantern identical to those carried by the wedding procession, emitting a ghostly green light.
And yet, beside these white lanterns that represented funeral rites, every family’s windows were pasted with bright red “囍” paper cuttings.
The entire village was like an absurd play that forcibly blended weddings and funerals together. It was so quiet that there was not the slightest trace of living presence. Only that omnipresent suona sound echoed above the village.
That wedding procession was following the only bluestone road in the village, slowly making its way toward the depths of the village.
“Look there.” Lan Ce suddenly pointed beneath the archway at the village entrance.
There stood a new stone stele, much newer than the weathered one at the village entrance. The writing upon it had been written in a bright red liquid that seemed not yet dry.
【Rules for Attending the Wedding】
One: Those who come are guests. Please follow the wedding procession forward. Do not make noise. Do not fall behind.
Two: The bride is beautiful. Guests may view her freely to show their praise.
Three: The groom is hospitable. If the groom offers a toast, please be sure to drink it, to show your respect.
Four: The wedding banquet is abundant. Please enjoy the food at the table to your heart’s content. Do not waste anything.
Five: The village elders are all people of deep fortune and blessing. If you encounter them, please kneel and pay respects.
Six: The paper figures are friendly guides. Please obey their directions.
Seven: There are no children in the village. If you hear a child crying, please immediately seek help from a paper figure.
Eight: The auspicious hour has not yet arrived. The groom is sleeping. Please do not disturb him.
There were eight rules in total, each written in that blood-like liquid, emanating an ominous aura beneath the ghostly green light.
“This damned rule stuff again…” Mo Fei looked at the stone stele and felt his scalp go numb. “And there’s definitely something fake in here!”
“No. This time, perhaps… they are all true.” Bai Yu stared at those rules, his voice carrying a gravity unprecedented even for him.
“What?”
“In the ‘Strange Dream Café,’ there was opposition between the maker of the rules and the victims, so the rules could be tampered with. Some were true, some were false,” Bai Yu explained. “But here… the entire village seems to have been completely assimilated by the malignant nightmare. The rules here may not contain any ‘deception.’ It is simply stating facts. It’s just that the consequences of obeying these ‘facts’ may not be something we can bear.”
“For example, the second rule: ‘The bride is beautiful. Guests may view her freely,’” Bai Yu’s gaze fell on that line. “It sounds like a trap, but perhaps its original intent really is for you to look. And the act of ‘looking’ itself may trigger some deeper rule we don’t yet know about.”
“This is becoming… more and more interesting.” Hei Yan’s whisper carried an excited shiver. “It isn’t setting riddles for you to guess. It is telling you the rules of the chessboard, then inviting you to play a proper game against it. If you lose, you become a chess piece. I am beginning to like this place.”
While they were studying the rules, the wedding procession that had already gone some distance away stopped again.
The puppet-like villager at the very rear of the procession slowly turned around. Its hollow gaze fell upon them. Then it extended a stiff hand and beckoned to them.
It was urging them to follow the procession.
“Let’s go,” An Mu said in a low voice. “The first rule: ‘Do not fall behind.’ We don’t have time to study this here. We can only observe while moving.”
The four dared delay no longer and quickly caught up with the procession, merging into that group of walking-corpse-like villagers.
As soon as they entered the procession, a thick odor mixed with the stench of rotting corpses and the scent of incense and candles wrapped around them. They could only imitate the villagers, lowering their heads and taking stiff steps as they slowly moved forward with the procession.
Mo Fei walked behind Bai Yu, forcing himself not to look at the strange faces of the villagers around him. But at that moment, out of the corner of his eye, he inadvertently glimpsed the side profile of a “villager” walking diagonally ahead of him.
It was a very young man. Like the other villagers, he wore ill-fitting blue cloth clothing and had a stiff smile on his face.
But that side profile… Mo Fei found it incomparably familiar.
His heart clenched violently, and his pupils instantly shrank to pinpoints. He remembered. That was one of the members of the D-rank investigator squad An Mu had shown them in the conference room half an hour ago—the squad that had lost contact!
That young investigator, who should have been scouting the perimeter but had ultimately gone missing, was now shockingly dressed in a villager’s clothes, wearing an eerie smile, and had become one member of this funeral-like wedding procession.
At that moment, Mo Fei’s breath completely stopped.