I, the screenwriter, have experienced a resurgence of inspiration.

The chaos of the night finally came to an end.

Every surviving player saw the ink-wash text floating in their field of vision:

[Current number of players remaining: 71]

[Second Night's Anomaly: The British Brown Fairy]

[Rules: Please stay away from the mischievous and manipulative goblins.]

[This abnormal settlement is complete. Each surviving player will receive +20 survival points.]

You are safe for now.

Have a pleasant journey!

……

The players breathed a sigh of relief.

Zhao Weilai and the others looked grim as they processed the two pieces of news Weng Yang had told them:

First, the door to the fourth carriage opened, and they were finally able to reach the safe zone.

Secondly, last night, after the goblin was captured, another player died in the same carriage.

Weng Yang's face turned ashen:

"She was strangled to death. I didn't hear a sound in the middle of the night... I think... there must have been several people who covered the victim's mouth to prevent her from making a sound."

Mu Xiao translated the sentence.

Those who understood were all trembling.

People have died in last night's chaos.

What's even more terrifying is that, after this chaos, the last vestiges of trust between people have completely collapsed.

Just like Kim Myung and Park So-na.

The two people kept their distance and didn't speak to each other.

Zhao Weilai turned to look at Weng Yang, who was also looking at her.

They all knew that the real test was never those strange and grotesque monsters.

It was this carriage full of people just like them.

"Let's go."

Zhao Weilai stood in front of the carriage door and spoke in a heavy tone.

The next second, the moment the carriage door opened, a mummy wrapped in white "bandages" sprang out—

"NIO, you've finally arrived! Weng Yang, you're here too! It's great that you're both alive!"

If it weren't for the fact that the "mummy" spoke in Deng Ziwen's voice, Weng Yang would have almost shot him dead.

Some people are both unlucky and lucky—clearly, Deng Ziwen was one of those people.

……

……

……

Meanwhile, outside the instance, Song Mo stared blankly at the news brought back by the two vengeful ghosts.

What does it mean that a small area of ​​spiritual energy anomalies has appeared around the instance as the center?

What does it mean that a nest of fox spirits has appeared near Taiping Cemetery?

What does it mean that a water ghost really appeared in the artificial lake at Jiangcheng University?

What is this "Village of Vincent in Ontario"? Is it true that stray cats are possessed and ghosts gather here?

What does it mean that mud gourds have multiplied and are everywhere?

What does it mean for the official authorities to classify the anomaly as a precursor to a "resurrection of spiritual energy"?

In other words, she actually managed to revive the spiritual energy?

Song Mo, an ordinary screenwriter who works tirelessly every day, only felt a toothache.

……

……

Summers in Jiangcheng are always rainy and gloomy. Judging from the late Song Dynasty, even London might not be as melancholic as Jiangcheng.

"...Whether Deng Ziwen was lucky or unlucky, I have my own judgment."

Song Mo held a toothbrush in his mouth, white foam bubbling from his lips, staring blankly at the sky in front of him.

She saw everything that happened in the instance.

In the dining car, Deng Ziwen finally met his knight in shining armor, Zhao Weilai.

The three members of the Jiangcheng University team reunited.

"puff--"

Song Mo laughed so hard she almost swallowed the toothpaste foam. She quickly bent down and spat it into the sink, unable to stop laughing.

She never expected Deng Ziwen to survive.

As soon as he entered the carriage, he ran into that group of white thugs.

His personal items, amulets, and train tickets were all stolen, and he was also slashed in the stomach.

At that time, Song Mo was staring at the screen of the game, and everyone thought that this kid was going to die in the third carriage.

—After all, the other party had no medicine or equipment and was seriously injured. If they encountered the anomaly on the first night, they would surely die.

Who would have thought that after robbing them, fearing he might die in the carriage and cause trouble, the group actually took advantage of the moment when the "invisible train conductor" was walking towards the fourth carriage to slip him through the gap in the connecting door into the next carriage.

At the end of the Song Dynasty, this was the expression on his face: "...?"

As luck would have it, the fourth section is the designated safety zone for the dining car.

Even more coincidentally, Deng Ziwen still had one prop left that wasn't taken away: an endless supply of toilet paper.

This guy tore the toilet paper into strips and used them to tightly wrap the wound on his stomach, holding on until Zhao Weilai and his group entered the dining car.

At the end of the Song Dynasty, when Zhao Weilai appeared behind the door, Deng Ziwen was sure to burst into tears.

If no one else had been there, this guy probably would have screamed right there.

……

……

"It's so unlucky, so unlucky, and so funny."

After observing for a while, Song Mo found that the copy was running normally, so he stopped monitoring it.

Her time is precious, and every minute and every second must be used wisely.

There were seven veteran players who were pulled into the London instance this time, all of whom were members of the Jiangcheng University team.

Besides Zhao Weilai and Liu Guilan (the clay sculptor), who already have professions, Song Mo actually favors two of the remaining five:

One is Fu Qinqin, who looks quiet and gentle, but actually has selfish motives and plans for herself.

The first night was unusual; she was the first player to discover the rule that "tickets must be carried with you at all times."

The other one is Ding Feifan.

This person is somewhat complicated, and in a sense, Chow Sang Sang was killed by him.

But he also saved several strangers when chaos broke out in the instance.

As for the remaining three players—she'll observe them further. There are countless players, and her attention is precious; she doesn't have the energy to spare for others.

Song Mo tapped the tiles on the sink with his fingertips, pondering for a few seconds.

The progress of domestic dungeons is still too slow.

Players' awakening of their class is entirely random, and they have to figure out their skills on their own, so their growth rate is clearly not keeping up with the rate at which ghosts are proliferating.

A copy has already been released overseas.

The Tokyo Night Parade of One Hundred Demons, the New Jersey Demons, and the Texas Weeping Ghost... are indiscriminately killing people in real life.

Although there is no similar situation in China yet, problems will inevitably arise sooner or later if players' growth rate is too slow.

We need to give players some extra support.

Song Mo calculated that she still had enough screenwriting points left to create two more small-scale dungeons, or three more realistic scripts.

With her actions, ten [Random Class Cards] were respectively added to the currently running [Peaceful Cemetery], [High School Ghost Stories], [Wishing Livestream], and [London Death Subway] instances—

Ten random job cards, the highest quality is green and the lowest quality is gray. Who gets a job depends entirely on luck.

Of course, having a professional player doesn't mean you're invincible.

Song Mo counted on his fingers and optimistically estimated that he should be able to get two skill 10-pulls after this dungeon ended.

After submitting the professional card, Song Mo turned and walked out of the restroom.

A fluffy, exquisitely shaped gray squirrel, about the size of a kitten, was perched on the windowsill.

Upon seeing Song Mo approach, the mouse immediately squeaked twice, left behind a crumpled note, and fled.

"A message delivered by the rat servant?"

When Song opened the note at the end of the Song Dynasty, he indeed saw crooked, rat-like characters:

"My lord, I have already begun to speak and write like a human. You, the central mouse (crossed out) Rat Bu, respectfully submit this."

The cemetery is bustling, a huge bustling market, with officials and people everywhere, come and see...

Song Mo read the letter quickly, skimming through it, before finally grasping, with a mixture of guesswork and confusion, what the "rat servant" meant.

It is learning human writing. Taiping Cemetery is bustling, very bustling. There are also people from the Special Investigation Bureau asking her if she wants to go see it.

Song Mo, the man from Lezi, made his decision in just 0.01 seconds.

……

……

The VIP tarmac at Jiangcheng Airport is under extremely tight security.

Three warning lines were set up tightly.

The outermost ring is for airport security, the middle is for armed police, and the innermost ring is for medical personnel in white coats.

Even airport ground staff are not allowed to get close.

At 4:07 a.m., a white Gulfstream G700 slowly landed on the runway.

The fuselage had no markings except for a small red cross printed on the tail.

Clearly, this is no ordinary private jet, but a converted in-flight ICU.

Inside the cabin, all the luxury seats were removed and replaced with a full set of intensive care equipment—ventilators, electrocardiogram monitors, hemodialysis machines, and ECMO.

There was even a small emergency pharmacy in the corner, filled with anti-tumor drugs, analgesics and emergency medicines.

You could say the entire cabin is a mobile intensive care unit.

The cost of the modification alone was as high as 80 million RMB.

The cost of a single flight to Wuhan, including route application, fuel, crew, and bribing officials, can easily reach tens of millions of yuan.

Inside the cabin, the elderly man, wearing a ventilator, had his eyes half-closed, but beneath his wrinkled eyelids lay an extreme will to survive.

"I...I can't wait...for them to come in...I, I'll go first..."

The old man was breathing rapidly, his eyes gleaming, and his face was filled with fear of death.

He gripped the sleeve of the person next to him with all his might, spitting out each word with utmost force:

"Special... Investigation Bureau, give me anything I want, I'm willing to donate my entire fortune, as long as they let me enter the dungeon..."

This pampered businessman, yet tormented by illness, seemed to burst forth with boundless vitality the moment he mentioned the word "copy."

Similar situations are still occurring.

……

Chen Xi, from the Special Investigation Bureau, stood outside the training room, looking up at the sky.

Airplanes took off and landed overhead along their flight paths, unusually busy compared to usual, their near-rapid roars seeming to foreshadow:

Jiangcheng is about to become the eye of the storm.