Introductions were important.
They shaped the first impressions others had of you.
So Wu Xian decided to leave a less-than-favorable impression.
"Ahem, cough… I'm Wu Xian. I came to Fuyuan seeking medical treatment. My health isn't great, so I hope you all can look out for me."
Wu Xian didn't know much about the Blessed Land and didn't fully trust Qi Zhiyong's one-sided story. He planned to keep his true self hidden for now.
Those standing near him instinctively took a step back upon hearing his words, except for Yue Mei, the nurse, who cast him a concerned glance.
"What's wrong with you? Is there anything I can help with?"
Wu Xian's cheeks flushed slightly. "My kidneys aren't well."
Yue Mei shook her head in pity. That was beyond her help.
No wonder everyone readily believed his story—he looked genuinely ill.
His pale skin and heavy dark circles under his eyes made him appear seriously weak, even without pretending. Not to mention the bleeding gums he'd caused by brushing too hard that morning...
...
While the survivors introduced themselves, Qi Zhiyong kept observing everyone carefully.
He noted He Qiong's arrogant attitude—clearly, like himself, he was a "Chosen." It was best not to provoke him or his two sisters.
The other five were probably ordinary people caught up in the Blessed Land by chance.
Yue Mei had some medical knowledge but was emotionally unstable, likely to falter under pressure, so she couldn't be trusted with major responsibilities.
Shi Ji looked honest and reliable, physically strong—a good helper.
Wen Chao was older and physically weak but calm and knowledgeable. Old-timers like him often proved useful in unexpected ways.
Fang Zhi was young and well-educated, theoretically useful, but his defiant attitude made him reckless—someone fit only to be used as cannon fodder.
As for Wu Xian...
Qi Zhiyong frowned whenever he thought of him.
A strange man—calm in danger, weak in appearance, yet openly provocative from the start. He was essentially worthless.
At that moment, Qi Zhiyong ranked the other eight survivors by usefulness.
"Daylight is precious and relatively safe. We need to use this time to gather intelligence, weapons, food, and drinking water."
"But if you want to survive, remember a few things: Return before midnight—don't wait for dark. Avoid approaching the statues recklessly; danger usually lurks near them. And don't go into overly dark places."
"That's all. Dismissed."
The group dispersed immediately. Some returned to their rooms, others stepped outside to personally verify Qi Zhiyong's claims.
Wu Xian had been eager to explore anyway, a smile tugging at his lips as he headed downstairs.
"Wait, don't go yet."
Qi Zhiyong called after him.
"I have a task for you."
...
"Since everyone's still alive, that means the evil spirits can't just break doors at will. But the tenant in Room 405 was broken into and killed last night. For everyone's safety, I need you to enter 405 and find out why he died."
Qi Zhiyong led Wu Xian to the door of Room 405.
Wu Xian frowned. "Why me?"
Had his poor acting given him away as a detective?
Qi Zhiyong waved him off impatiently. "Don't ask so many questions. Someone has to do it. Didn't you just agree to follow my orders?"
Seeing Qi Zhiyong's expression, Wu Xian suddenly understood.
No matter how the 405 tenant died, anyone investigating inside could meet the same fate. Qi Zhiyong simply thought Wu Xian was the least useful, so he handed him the dangerous job.
Wu Xian let out a self-mocking laugh.
Who asked you to play the fool to trick the tiger?
You overplayed your hand!
...
Though displeased, Wu Xian didn't refuse.
After all, it was a matter he wanted to investigate himself.
Getting exclusive firsthand information might help him survive in this cursed place.
Qi Zhiyong nodded in satisfaction and stepped back to wait for the results.
To his surprise, Wu Xian didn't enter immediately. Instead, he crouched in front of the door, stroking his chin and studying it carefully.
After a short wait, Qi Zhiyong began to grow annoyed.
How long does this kid plan to dawdle at the door?
Just as Qi Zhiyong thought this, Wu Xian bent down and picked up a few large wood chips, patching up the hole in the door. Then he wrapped his hand around the edge and pushed hard.
Qi Zhiyong immediately shut his mouth.
The broken hole in the door closed up under Wu Xian's push, leaving a clear imprint on the wooden surface.
A huge footprint.
Beneath the footprint, a woman's palm print pressed into the mud.
Qi Zhiyong quickly scanned the other doors. Most were clean, but on the door of Room 407—Fang Zhi's room—there was the exact same female palm print.
Suddenly, it dawned on him: the palm print was some kind of mark.
Fang Zhi had been targeted by the evil spirits. He would be the one to die tonight!
After checking the doors, Wu Xian entered the room. Qi Zhiyong hesitated but didn't follow—his own value was far higher than Wu Xian's, so he wouldn't risk himself recklessly.
Without Qi Zhiyong watching, Wu Xian relaxed considerably.
The room's layout was identical to his own, Room 406. Nothing special in the furnishings—except for one striking object.
A cement statue.
Inside the room, next to the bed, a naked woman knelt on the floor, chest thrust forward, arms outstretched, head held high—as if flying. Her arms had been sculpted into wings, lifelike and exquisitely detailed.
Wu Xian approached and poked the statue with a piece of wood.
Suddenly, the statue's eyes snapped open. It blinked wildly at him, tears streaming down, staining the surrounding cement a deep, dark color.
Wu Xian licked his lips. This wasn't a statue at all—it was a living person trapped in cement!
He tried cautiously, "Can you speak?"
The statue kept blinking madly. Wu Xian pried open her lips and found her mouth packed full of cement.
"If you understand me, stop blinking," he said.
But the blinking continued.
Wu Xian sighed.
Her tears and blinking were nothing more than paranormal phenomena. Her spirit was dead. What remained was a living corpse with no self-awareness.
Why she was still alive in this state could only be attributed to the evil spirits' mysterious powers. After all, the figure on the billboard opposite could still stick out its tongue even when its stomach was empty.
Wu Xian searched the room briefly, then picked up a pink-cased phone from the floor. Holding it up to the sunlight, he followed the greasy fingerprints and easily bypassed the gesture password.
"Lu Yuzhu, 26 years old, just two years into her career—the prime of her life."
"This ID 'Domineering Puppy' is her boyfriend? Twenty-five transfers in seven days? Tsk, such a fool—he's obviously a scumbag, playing mind games with her."
"She made over a dozen outgoing calls. Looks like she was desperate for someone to help bear her panic."
Through the phone's data, Wu Xian gradually formed a vivid picture of Lu Yuzhu. He could roughly imagine how a woman like her would react when suddenly trapped in the Blessed Land.
She had responded to that Yu Yinghua last night—maybe even opened the door for her!
What puzzled Wu Xian, though, was why her phone could be brought into the Blessed Land while his own had turned into nothing but paper.
Either the ones controlling the Blessed Land simply wanted to make people suffer...
Or different methods of entry imposed different restrictions.
Regardless of the reason, the phone was now his, and it could prove invaluable.