Chapter 312: I’ll Knock Your Head Clean Off, You Believe Me?
Rahman was so terrified right now that his soul was practically leaving his body.
Feeling the chill beside him slowly eating into his nerves, he had a sense that there was no escape this time.
Is it this intense right from the start?
Some slower Chosen Ones probably haven’t even figured out the rules yet, right?
So I just came out to check the shelves and I’m already walking into a death trap?
Countless questions swirled through Rahman’s mind, but he didn’t panic. His brain was already racing for a way to survive.
He held his breath, just as Rule 2 said, and without daring to look back, forced himself to take one step at a time, moving slowly back to the counter.
Those few steps nearly suffocated him—he genuinely didn’t dare to breathe.
He was already missing his heart; if he burst his lungs from holding his breath, his already frail body would be in even worse shape.
Once he reached the counter, he could faintly make out a figure through the candlelight, rummaging around near the shelves.
The figure wasn’t very tall. What puzzled him was that it didn’t seem to have any intention of attacking him.
Seeing that, Rahman let out a long, shaky breath—he’d nearly choked to death.
Being scared here wasn’t going to help. He had to find some clues—that was the clearer’s mindset.
Rahman used the candle on the counter to relight the extinguished one, then moved to a spot with a better view. Under the candlelight, he finally saw a guest dressed in black, searching for something.
“Scared me half to death. It’s just a black-clothed guest. I thought it was one of those special customers mentioned in the later rules.”
Rahman’s tense nerves began to settle.
Thinking it over, it made sense. The first arrival was probably some kind of “tutorial” to let everyone get acclimated.
There was no way the Horror Tale World would throw a special, high-level entity at them right off the bat—that would just kill them outright.
The whole “breath of death” and “hands grabbing at my feet” thing was just him scaring himself.
When your subconscious feels terror, your mind fills in all kinds of details on its own.
That thing was essentially just a practice dummy to steel the Chosen Ones’ nerves.
He was an average Chosen One, so of course he got spooked that way.
Some stronger Chosen Ones didn’t even run when their candle was blown out.
After all, they didn’t sense any killing intent or overwhelming power.
That meant the guest who blew out the candle probably wasn’t trying to kill them.
But why did he blow it out? Most Chosen Ones had no idea.
The only one who did know was Zhang Yangqing—the one who slapped that black-clothed guest right across the face.
With a crisp smack, a grumbling voice echoed through the store.
“You got a problem, huh? You blow my candle out again, and I’ll knock your head clean off—you believe me?”
If you weren’t a customer, I’d have beaten you to death already.
How dare you blow out my candle?
You got a death wish, kid?
That Shadow Ghost never expected to get a solid slap the moment it showed up.
According to the expert panel’s incomplete statistics, this Shadow Ghost currently held the record for the fastest eerie being to get hit in the entire history of the Horror Tale World.
The Shadow Ghost was speechless—it had somehow set a record for no reason at all.
As it turned out, Zhang Yangqing recognized this guy for what he was: a Frozen-to-Death Ghost.
Frozen-to-Death Ghosts carry a natural chill with them, which is why the Chosen Ones felt a draft when they appeared.
Note—it’s a chill, not an eerie, bone-deep cold. Any transcendent who could make that distinction naturally wouldn’t be startled.
As for regular Chosen Ones, many were scared out of their wits, and some even knocked over shelves behind them in panic, sending goods scattering everywhere.
But it’s true that this ghost didn’t actually intend to attack the Chosen Ones—it was just looking for its own thing.
Here emerged the first hidden rule: Frozen-to-Death Ghosts don’t like fire—or, more precisely, they don’t like heat.
Because it needed to search nearby, it blew out the candle.
Other Chosen Ones might not know what a Frozen-to-Death Ghost was, but they could at least deduce that “eerie beings that emit cold” don’t like warmth.
That was the detail they’d be logging under Rule 7.
[Rule 7: Never make “them” angry. The angrier they get, the stronger they become.]
As long as you could figure out what each type of “eerie being” disliked, you could avoid crossing them later.
That was the standard method for an ordinary Chosen One.
Zhang Yangqing, however, recognized exactly what it was—which was why he slapped it.
He not only knew the strength of these eerie beings, but also why they had that strength.
This Frozen-to-Death Ghost, if Zhang Yangqing wasn’t mistaken, had died in the winter snow while braving a blizzard to go somewhere.
It had perished from the cold halfway there, holding onto a deep obsession—a destination it never reached—which was why it became this eerie form.
This one didn’t carry much “resentment”—just a lingering obsession.
Generally speaking, it wouldn’t harm anyone unless you provoked it.
Of course, when it runs into someone of Zhang Yangqing’s level who does provoke it, it can’t do much about it—the power gap was just too big.
Why was this Frozen-to-Death Ghost so weak? Because its resentment was shallow.
For example, those who died from revenge killings, torture, or in extreme agony—when they turned into eerie beings, their combat power was terrifying, and they were highly unpredictable.
That was also what Rule 7 was hinting at—it’s just that the other Chosen Ones didn’t know that yet.
The sharper ones would eventually figure it out after encountering yellow- and red-clothed guests and slowly gathering intel.
Inside the Horror Tale World, the Frozen-to-Death Ghost that got slapped seemed to sense Zhang Yangqing’s overwhelming power and didn’t dare to make a scene.
After all, the slap had caught it completely off guard.
The force of that hit even caused cracks to appear in its neck.
A terrifying person like that—could you afford to mess with him?
So, after mumbling an apology, it said to Zhang Yangqing, “Boss, I’d like to buy a string of bone prayer beads.”
“Then follow me. They’re near the counter.”
Zhang Yangqing had to constantly remember to play his role as a store clerk.
He needed the turnover, and black-clothed guests could be talked to normally.
Soon, the two reached the counter area. Zhang Yangqing pointed to the spot, and the ghost happily went to grab the beads itself.
It seemed to know the price—it took out some money from its pocket and was about to leave.
But at that moment, no Chosen One would let it go.
A tutorial NPC finally shows up, poses no real threat, and you’re going to let it leave without asking for information? That’d be a huge waste!
But asking for information came with its own nuances.
Before that, the Chosen Ones would first call it back, confirm that the money matched the price on the inventory list, and then start probing for intel.
They also had to be careful not to trigger Rule 8.
[Rule 8: Don’t talk to “them” too much, or “they” will cling to you.]
So the questions had to be short.
Rahman organized his words and asked three questions:
“What is this place?”
“Where did you come from?”
“Do you know anything about organs?”
The black-clothed guest said this place was an unnamed graveyard hill, and it came from a nearby burial ground.
As for organs and such—it had no idea.
After saying that, the black-clothed guest stared at the Chosen One, as if asking: Anything else you want to ask?
But none of the Chosen Ones would violate the rule here. Rahman had a gut feeling that over-communicating might lead to bad outcomes.
Zhang Yangqing’s interpretation was more detailed: these eerie beings have obsessions or unfulfilled wishes.
Normally, they’d try to fulfill them themselves, but if you talk to them too much, they might ask you to do it.
At that point, if you agree, you have to follow through—because if you deceive them, they’ll just grow stronger and come after you. That’s the logic of ghosts.
If you refuse outright, then the eerie being will think: I told you all this, and you still won’t help me?
It might not hurt you directly, but at some critical story moment, it could get you killed.
That’s why the rule warns against excessive conversation.
That was the surface-level understanding—and even that was already beyond what other Chosen Ones had considered.
But Zhang Yangqing had an even deeper interpretation.
Reading just the second half of this rule, you could also interpret it as: if you want a particular eerie being’s help, you can talk to them more.
Whether you can complete their task, and whether it’ll end up killing you—that’s for the Chosen One to judge.
Zhang Yangqing was just so familiar with how these things formed and their capabilities that he could easily deduce what needed to be done.
Other Chosen Ones hadn’t even fully grasped the rules yet, let alone thought that far.
That was the advantage of a home-field Chosen One.
When facing this black-clothed guest, the questions the Chosen Ones asked were generally similar—though there were many small differences in detail.
A tutorial NPC like this couldn’t possibly know that much.
Still, the Chosen Ones now had a general idea of their environment and were beginning to get used to the atmosphere.
“Wow, so they just dump me right into a graveyard hill? This round is brutal—but it looks kind of interesting.”
Rahman’s occupational habits seemed to be kicking in.
Whenever tombs and graveyards were mentioned, he got the urge to go explore them.
After all, Rahman was an archaeologist by profession—compared to someone like Hu Liuqi, who was a grave-robber, he just had an official license.
He’d definitely been down there plenty of times.
He wondered if there were any hidden quests inside—that got him a little excited.
Just then, the chime by the door snapped him out of it and yanked his thoughts back from the clouds.
Dingling!
Dingling!
This time, the chimes rang in quick succession—seemed like more than one person had entered the store.
After dealing with the first black-clothed guest, Rahman and the other Chosen Ones were no longer as tense as at the start.
Some of the bolder ones even started asking the incoming guests what they needed.
Because a guest dressed in white had come up to the counter.
She appeared to be a female eerie being, head bowed, with long black hair covering her face.
As she approached, Rahman caught a whiff of something musty.
Her footsteps were very light, and her body barely swayed as she moved.
It was as if she were gliding horizontally.
In this pitch-black place, that was just unsettling.
Through the candlelight, Rahman could see a face so pale beneath her black hair that it made your heart skip a beat—especially the bloodshot eyes hidden behind those strands of hair, as if one glance would plunge you into an abyss.
Her body was soaking wet, and water kept dripping from her hair, drip-drop, drip-drop.
Not just Rahman—many Chosen Ones instinctively recoiled when faced with this kind of terrifying eerie being.
Just as Rahman was debating whether to ask her something, the white-clothed guest spoke up first: “Boss, do you have a burial shroud? I need one.”
“Yes, yes, yes—they’re on that shelf over there.”
Rahman pointed in a direction. He’d inventoried the goods, so he knew exactly where the item this female eerie wanted was.
But then the same female eerie said, “I’m all wet. Could you please package it up for me?”
Here, Rahman really wanted to refuse—he had a bad feeling about this.
But danger and opportunity often went hand in hand, because not every Chosen One was as knowledgeable as Zhang Yangqing on his home turf.
A Chosen One’s normal line of thinking: agreeing to an NPC’s request increases favorability; completing an NPC’s quest yields unexpected rewards.
Maybe if he didn’t agree, he’d miss some key detail?
With that thought, Rahman picked up the candlestick and was ready to go package the burial shroud for her.
After all, as a store clerk, that was probably part of his job.
And then came the fatal detail.
There had been two chimes earlier—meaning aside from this white-clothed guest, another guest had also entered the shop.
Maybe that other one was hiding in the shadows, waiting for him to fall into a trap.
Rahman had a thought: was this female eerie trying to lure him out of the counter area so he’d violate some rule and get killed by another eerie?
With that in mind, Rahman didn’t rush out from behind the counter. Instead, he kept shifting positions, trying to locate the other eerie in the dim candlelight.
Strangely, though, he couldn’t see the other eerie anywhere.
The general store was fairly large—after all, there were items like coffins and such.
There were plenty of so-called blind spots—unless you walked right up to them, you couldn’t see what was in there.
“Are you having some trouble? Or is there something inconvenient?”
The white-clothed female guest asked, seeing that Rahman wasn’t coming out from behind the counter.
“No, no—I’ll go get that burial shroud for you right away.”
Even knowing the risk, Rahman decided to give it a try.
After all, this was the Horror Tale World—it’d be strange if there were no danger.
And who knows? Maybe this woman knew something useful.
Stepping out from behind the counter, Rahman crept carefully toward the shelf where the burial shrouds were kept, keeping an eye out for any other guest suddenly popping out from a corner.
As he moved, the candle flame flickered, casting dancing shadows that grew and shrank across the store, making his skin crawl.
Rahman walked slowly, and the white-clothed guest followed behind him.
Just as he reached the shelf and began packing the shroud, exactly what he’d feared happened.
Another eerie silently approached him and said, “Boss, that burial shroud in your hands—I had my eye on it first. There’s my handprint on it.”
The sudden voice startled Rahman badly.
Now he was standing in the middle of the shelf aisle, with two eerie beings flanking him, as if blocking his only escape.
The audience was sweating for him—he was a SSSS-ranked clearer, after all—don’t die such an absurd death.
Rahman turned his head. This one was even scarier than the last.
This eerie was also dressed in white, also soaking wet, also female in appearance—but with short hair.
Without the hair covering her face, you could see that her features had rotted and warped.
Her facial features were already decaying and foul-smelling.
When she spoke, the flesh on her face seemed like it could fall off at any moment.
She gave the impression that she’d been submerged in water for a very long time.
Other Chosen Ones—Rahman included—would make that same observation and note it down. Zhang Yangqing, however, knew both of them were Drowning Ghosts.
Since they were dressed in white, their resentment probably wasn’t intense—most likely they’d died by accidental drowning rather than being killed by someone else.
Here, Zhang Yangqing also had a way to tell at a glance which one was stronger.
Eerie beings also needed to cultivate. With the same “talent,” the one who’d cultivated longer was stronger.
To gauge how long they’d cultivated, you’d judge by how long they’d been submerged.
The short-haired one was naturally stronger than the long-haired one—her skin had already started to rot.
Other transcendents might not know this method, but they could still sense that the newcomer had a more menacing aura.
Ordinary Chosen Ones couldn’t tell at all—because both of these were much stronger than average Chosen Ones.
Among “non-malicious” guests, these two were considered the more formidable types.
The Chosen Ones also knew that “no malice” didn’t mean they’d never attack—if you angered either one, you’d definitely get attacked.
Rahman first looked at the burial shroud in his hands and didn’t find any marks.
It felt like the short-haired female eerie was just claiming that to get the item.
Then Rahman glanced at the long-haired female beside him, as if asking her what to do.
His approach was clever—no matter who he gave it to, he’d offend the other.
Making an eerie resentful was never a good choice.
Only by letting the two eeries sort it out themselves—you two decide and tell me—could he avoid breaking the rules.
Even if one of them got beaten to death right there, he wouldn’t have violated any rule.
Seeing that she might lose the item she wanted, the long-haired female obviously wasn’t happy. Instead of arguing with the short-haired one, she turned to Rahman and said, “Boss, this shroud was packaged for me. You need to keep your word.”
Hearing that, Rahman’s eyes went wide.
Oh great. My little clever trick not only didn’t work—it made things worse.
What started as a simple “buying clothes” issue had now escalated into a matter of “credibility.”
Breaking your word would get you resented.
One careless slip and you’d trigger Rule 7—and then he’d be as good as dead.
It wasn’t even that hot out, but Rahman was drenched in sweat—because this was the first major dilemma of the Horror Tale World.
Both of them were dead set on making him decide, and there was no way to pass the buck.
Seeing the looks in the two female eeries’ eyes growing more terrifying by the second, Rahman knew he had to make a choice.
But who to give it to?
The stronger one?
That didn’t seem right either—it all felt like a trap.
Suddenly, Rahman had an idea.
He “clumsily” started packaging the burial shroud, then “accidentally” dropped it on the floor.
He frantically bent down to pick it up, and “without noticing,” the candlestick in his other hand slipped and conveniently fell onto the shroud, burning it.
He wasn’t worried about the flame going out—after all, both of these were white-clothed.
To put out the fire, Rahman stomped on the clothes aggressively.
The once clean and beautiful shroud now had holes and was covered in Rahman’s footprints.
This made both female eeries show looks of disgust.
Then Rahman really went full actor mode—since he’d started the act, he had to see it through.
He picked up the tattered, ruined shroud, stuffed it into a bag, and asked, “Sorry, who was it that wanted this shroud? It’s a little flawed, but it’s still wearable, you know.”
That sentence completely killed any interest the two female eeries had in the item.
It’s torn to shreds, and you call that “a little flawed”?
Since they hadn’t paid yet, the clothing still belonged to the store.
They weren’t going to make a huge fuss over a shroud that the clerk had damaged by accident.
And just like that, Rahman had perfectly dodged this death condition.
To avoid being cornered by the two female eeries again, Rahman took the opportunity while they were still disgusted to make a run for it.
He went straight back behind the counter, and only once they’d picked what they wanted did he collect payment.
He wasn’t going to wade into that muddy water again.
Seeing Rahman’s performance, the Pyramid Nation audience went wild.
Rahman’s colleagues said outright: A SSSS-ranked Chosen One is just on a different level from the others.
Quite a few Chosen Ones were trying to avoid conflict with the two.
But some just didn’t get it. They thought too simply—or rather, they were too eager to increase favorability and unlock quests.
Because only by reaching a certain level of favorability could you get access to special quests.
This round, the Maple Leaf Nation’s Chosen One started making some truly baffling moves.
He figured there were plenty of burial shrouds on the shelves, so he tried to persuade the two female eeries to pick another one.
As you’d expect, both refused—they wanted that specific one.
Then the Maple Leaf Chosen One decided to “play mediator.”
He said to the short-haired female eerie: “This shroud clearly doesn’t have the handprint you mentioned. This lady asked for it first, so as the clerk, I have to give it to her. Sorry.”
He spoke politely enough, but the short-haired female eerie was so furious that her hair started whipping around wildly, and water kept seeping from her terrifyingly pale skin.
There was a mark on the shroud—it’s just that ordinary people couldn’t see it.
The short-haired female looked intimidating up close, but she didn’t attack. Instead, she stormed off in a huff.
With that, the Maple Leaf Chosen One earned a “thank you” from the long-haired female.
After paying, the long-haired female left satisfied.
Seeing the money in the drawer slowly grow, the Maple Leaf Chosen One looked quite pleased with himself.
After all, Rule 4 said turnover was the key to survival.
Since that was the case, more money meant better odds.
These eerie beings didn’t seem all that scary—he was even considering “upselling” products and maybe even bringing in more customers.
The Maple Leaf Chosen One felt like he was thriving in this round and might even get close to a hidden quest.
The Maple Leaf audience had no idea if their Chosen One would unlock a hidden quest—but he’d already unlocked danger.
Their Chosen One had pleased one, but offended the other.
To put it simply: the one he pleased probably wouldn’t help him. After all, it was just a piece of clothing—she felt she deserved to get it.
In the end, she paid for it—it was just a transaction.
The Chosen One hadn’t really done her any special favor.
But the one he offended? She was definitely going to get revenge.
In this round, the Chosen Ones’ approaches varied wildly.
There was even one truly bizarre move: the Turban Nation’s Chosen One—whether out of stupidity or cleverness—came up with a “solution”: grab a pair of scissors from the counter, cut the burial shroud in two, and give each female half, charging half the price.
What he didn’t realize was that many items in the store—once taken apart—were useless.
The two female eeries just thought he was an idiot and didn’t bear him any serious grudge.
Sure, they were a little annoyed, but at most they wouldn’t actively go out of their way to harm him.
If the Turban Chosen One needed help later, they’d definitely stay out of it—but they wouldn’t stab him in the back either.
And so, the Turban Chosen One managed to survive this round—for now.
After watching the other Chosen Ones’ wild and varied approaches, the audience immediately switched to the Dragon Kingdom’s screen to see how this home-field powerhouse would handle it.
Most felt that Rahman’s solution was about as standard as it got.
But after watching Zhang Yangqing’s approach, they realized this answer was way beyond standard.
In front of the big screen, Zhang Yangqing heard what the two had to say, tossed the burial shroud onto the floor, and said:
“You two fight over it—whoever grabs it, gets it.”
Everyone: . . .
