You made all the streamers on the internet kneel before you when you were asked to make a game.

Send lamp oil?

The crowd looked at each other in disbelief.

"Your lights... are about to go out..."

"Without oil...you'll die..."

That voice was full of "benevolent" temptation.

The experienced driver glanced instinctively at the kerosene lamp on the table.

The lights were indeed flickering slightly, as if they might go out at any moment.

But how can you believe such nonsense?

The voice of the scalpel also rang out at the right time, reminding some of the seasoned drivers who had been misled.

Don't believe it.

"It didn't call our names."

One sentence instantly sobered the veteran driver, sending a chill down his spine.

so close!

I almost fell for their trick!

The people inside the room ignored the sounds outside the door.

The knocking and talking outside the door lasted for about five minutes.

Seeing that there was still no response from inside the house, the sound gradually faded away.

The woodshed fell silent once more.

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, as if they had been completely exhausted.

But before they could even catch their breath...

"when--!"

A melodious yet piercing gong sound shattered the night sky above the village—it was the fourth rule!

[A grand opera will begin at midnight tonight. At that time, the sound of gongs and drums will signal the start. All audience members must be seated on time; absences and early departures are not permitted.]

"What do we do?" the experienced driver asked anxiously. "If we go out now, won't we be breaking rule number one?"

Professor Chen frowned and pondered.

There is a priority among the rules.

"The first rule is the survival rule under normal circumstances."

"And the fourth rule is a mandatory rule for special events."

"The sound of the gong is the signal that an event has begun."

"The signal has been given, and the first rule is likely temporarily invalid."

"If we don't go out now... the consequences will probably be much more serious than being approached by the ghost knocking on the door."

His words silenced everyone.

Yes.

One is "must not", and the other is "must".

Which is lighter and heavier, at a glance.

"Walk!"

Lancet stood up and was the first to walk towards the door.

The others had no choice but to bite the bullet and follow.

They opened the door and went out of the woodshed.

The sight outside made them gasp in shock.

The once deserted village streets are now densely packed with "people".

Those are all "villagers" of this village.

They were dressed in all sorts of worn-out clothes from the Republican era.

Some were missing arms, some were missing legs, and some had their heads drooping on their shoulders, teetering on the verge of collapse.

Their faces were expressionless, completely numb.

The pale green lantern light shone on their bluish-white skin, making them look incredibly eerie.

Upon hearing the gong, these "villagers" came out of their houses.

Then they lined up, taking stiff steps, like puppets controlled by invisible strings, and walked step by step toward the stage in the center of the village.

The sound of stiff, uniform footsteps echoed on the bluestone pavement.

"Sneak in," Professor Chen said in a low voice.

"Follow behind them, don't speak, don't look up, and don't make eye contact with any 'people'."

Everyone did as instructed.

They cautiously joined the end of the procession of ghosts, mimicking their manner, heads bowed, as they walked step by step toward the enormous stage.

To their left was a female ghost wearing a cheongsam with a large hole in the back of her head.

To their right was a male ghost wearing a long robe, his neck twisted at a 180-degree angle.

The stench of decay and earth emanating from them constantly stimulated their sense of smell.

Their cold bodies would occasionally brush against their arms.

Brother Long could only hide tightly in the arms of the ghost bride, close his eyes, and rely on the familiar, cold aura emanating from his wife to counteract the nauseating sensory impact around him.

Fortunately, his wife couldn't live without him.

Otherwise, just walking this route would make him feel like his sanity would drop to zero.

Soon, they arrived at the audience seats below the stage.

It was an open-air seating area made up of long wooden benches.

The "villagers" took their seats one by one in a predetermined order.

In no time, the huge audience seats were more than half full.

Professor Chen reminded him again.

"Don't sit in the first row, those are reserved for VIPs."

"Don't sit on either side, it's too conspicuous."

"Find a spot in the middle and blend in."

The group crouched down and, in the dim light, found a few empty seats in the middle row and sat down close together.

Brother Long plopped down on the stool, feeling its icy coldness.

He secretly glanced to the side out of the corner of his eye.

On the left sat an old man without a chin, drool dripping from his empty jaw onto the ground.

On the right sat a pale-faced woman, tightly holding a "baby" wrapped in a floral cloth in her arms.

The "baby's" face was bluish-purple and swollen, clearly indicating it was a stillborn infant.

Brother Long instantly withdrew his gaze, activated "Best Actor Mode," and curled up in the Ghost Bride's arms, remaining motionless and pretending to be a corpse as well.

Just after all the "audience" had taken their seats.

"Clang!"

On the stage, the sound of gongs and drums rang out once again.

The grand show begins.

Several paper effigies dressed in theatrical costumes walked out from backstage with stiff, unnatural steps.

They came to life.

They opened their mouths and sang a mournful and eerie opera-style song.

The song being performed was an ancient opera called "Yinshan Sacrifice".

The lyrics were broken and unclear.

However, both The Lancet and Professor Chen astutely gleaned several key words from it.

"The Earth Immortal Temple... Seeking longevity..."

"Blood Moon Night... Open the Gates of Hell..."

"Sacrificial offerings...living human hearts..."

The clues once again pointed to the mysterious "Earth Immortal Temple".

Just as everyone was intently trying to glean more information from the lyrics.

On the stage, the paper effigy playing the young male lead suddenly stopped singing.

Its eyes, marked with ink dots and devoid of white, slowly turned toward the audience.

Then, it spoke in a sinister, androgynous voice.

"Today, we have distinguished guests arriving."

"By order of our ancestors, we have specially invited five distinguished guests to come up on stage...to grace us with their presence."