C3 chapter 3

Asher came to a place that no one could figure out. It was his room.

He tried to open the door, which turned out to be unlocked. In the room, nothing changed after his departure.

Closing the door, Asher felt his heart skip a beat. He drew a deep breath, knelt, and probed his head boldly beneath the bed.

Abruptly, a deathly white face come to his fore. Their nose tips had touched. The rich stench of decay burrowed steeply into his nostrils, and the pupil-less malevolent eyes were gazing at him.

Asher cracked a grin, pretending to be calm, “Hello, could I ask you something, please?”

People always did all kinds of stupid things in their lives, but hardly had someone pursued to chat with ghosts. So Asher’s bold behavior would have shocked his teammates if they knew what he was doing.

They were not newcomers and had some knowledge about ghosts, namely the ghosts were divided into two kinds: one remained a sliver, whisper of consciousness, and the others were totally unconscious.

The former desired for revenge or to achieve their goals. Normally, their targets were not the participants of the game. But they lacked feelings so they did not pay attention to lives, which meant if they killed a player without intention, it was nothing different for them to step on an ant. They did not kill people on purpose, but their actions were out of control.

The latter were more horrible. They were harsh spirits, losing all consciousness and being caught up in endless resentment and malice. Weakness, scruple, and emotion had left their soul. What they chased was to obliterate everyone in this game, so that the dead would turn into their kind forever.

In such a case, players never initiated to contact the ghost, as if no one wanted to put a knife on his neck.

However, Asher got this information from nowhere. But through his judgment, the ghost under his bed was harmless for she had no intention to hurt him. Otherwise, he would have become a cold corpse. Instead, she gave him the vital note.

Asher looked into her eyes. Her pupil-less eyes were wide open, exuding suffocating malice, and the rich stench was frantically creeping into his nostrils. Her face appeared to be ghost white, with long hair covering her body.

She grinned at Asher as if being ready to attack him at any time.

Her black, long hair, like a serpent, climbed stealthily from his ankle towards his belt.

An eerie and grave ambiance was spreading in the small room.

But fear and panic didn’t capture Asher. In fact, he had been prepared for the worst situation, even though he was sure the ghost was less likely to kill him. He came to request her help stemming from his inner drive.

Staring her wide-open mouth, full of sharp teeth, a thread of black spittle slipping from it, Asher was quite calm, asking, “Are you Ada Bush, the hostess?”

Hearing that, her hair paused to approach, but the goo from her mouth continued to drop. However, her mind was apparently absent for a while.

She withdraw her hair from Asher’s body, then recede quickly into the deep darkness beneath the bed, and eventually vanished.

Never had a word slipped from her lips all along.

Asher doubt it was likely that the ghosts in the games were unable to talk.

Standing up, he checked his ankle, which was printed with some blue bruising, and even began to bleed. He realized that it was unwise to come into contact with the ghosts.

He forced a bitter smile to his rashness, knowing what he had done was in vain.

Then, to his surprise, a photo was present quietly beside his feet.

With satisfaction, he went out of the room, covered the door, and headed for another destination.