Chapter 24: Out of Control (3)

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“Besides that, there’s one most important rule.”
“After the ritual ends, under no circumstances are you to go to the altar!”
“If you encounter anything strange, you can take refuge in the ancestral hall.”

In Qu Village, the taboos were many yet concise: keep a low profile, stay quiet, don’t do unnecessary things, and don’t go where you shouldn’t.
The altar was extremely dangerous; the ancestral hall was comparatively safe.

“That doesn’t sound too difficult,” they said as Aro left, and the group gathered to summarize.
“However, Aro called the ancestral hall a safe point—can we trust that?”

Lu Jinchao looked around and saw doubt in everyone’s eyes.
“Maybe the trap for this platform mission lies there.”
The altar and the ancestral hall...

“The altar only becomes dangerous after the ritual. Should we check it out now?”
“Indeed, just in case, let’s take a look now.”

Lu Jinchao had no objections. Judging by the clues so far, the danger seemed connected to the ritual. It made sense to familiarize themselves with the site in advance.

On the way to the altar, she overheard someone whisper,
“Do you think it might be the other way around? Usually, the altar is safe and the ancestral hall dangerous, but today it’s reversed?”

Not impossible.
From her observations, the dust in the ancestral hall had accumulated over months, indicating it was usually off-limits.
But that was only one of many possibilities.

Lu Jinchao filed all these thoughts away. It was her first time at a Class C platform mission. So far, it seemed that higher difficulty missions didn’t lay their dangers out plainly like Class D dungeons; passengers had to sense them on their own.

Her task now was to discover where the danger might arise.

Perhaps because the ritual was imminent, the villagers were especially cautious. Even during the day, the rural paths were nearly deserted.
Everyone was preparing at home for the evening ritual and probably warned children not to wander.

Though called an altar, it was actually a small shrine at the village’s far end.
Its size was roughly the same as the ancestral hall. Two middle-aged men, appearing to be in their forties or fifties, guarded the entrance. Occasionally, someone carried items inside, likely setting things up.

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After brief communication, the men allowed them inside but strictly forbade touching the deity statue, damaging any setup, and said they could only observe briefly before leaving.

Lu Jinchao was quietly pleased at how smoothly things were progressing—no obstruction so far. Yet upon entering and seeing the so-called deity statue, she couldn’t help but frown.

There was only one statue in the entire altar, placed at its very center. Unlike the grand statues usually found in temples, this one was roughly human-sized.

Whether due to exquisite craftsmanship or some other reason, the statue looked unnervingly lifelike—so much so that it triggered a kind of uncanny valley effect. Yet its facial features were strange, even unsettling.

An indescribable sense of disharmony and eeriness made anyone who looked at it want to look away.

It felt less like a deity statue and more like a ghostly effigy.

Twisted, bizarre, and ominous.

No wonder it needed to be sealed; this thing did not look like something to be trifled with.

The group entered the shrine obediently without disturbing anything, mostly observing with their eyes.

Lu Jinchao noticed that those who had arranged the shrine were also watching them. That wasn’t strange—any stranger visiting on the day of the ritual would naturally draw curious glances.

But among those ordinary gazes, there was a cold, overwhelmingly present, deeply unsettling stare...

Unable to resist, Lu Jinchao turned her head to find the source—and unexpectedly, her eyes met those of the eerie “deity” statue.

...

Her heart jolted.

The statue was watching her?

Or rather, watching them.

“This... doesn’t feel right,” a companion whispered. “Let’s get out of here after we’ve looked around. I feel like we shouldn’t stay long.”

Clearly, others felt that strange sensation of being watched too.

After leaving the altar, the pink-haired girl Wei Ling confidently said, “It’s definitely the altar—or that statue—that’s the problem.”
“That thing is probably a ghost.”

Ye Jingyun, who had been by her side, looked concerned. “So, should we have avoided entering the altar?”

Wei Ling shook her head. “We still have to go. It’s important to understand the situation.”

At that moment, the previously somewhat careless Wei Ling suddenly seemed reliable. But the next second, she eased into a more casual tone, addressing Ye Jingyun, “Don’t worry too much. If something bad’s going to happen, there’ll be signs. You’ve already been through four platform missions—don’t you get it yet?”

Ye Jingyun nodded, her mood relaxing a bit with Wei Ling’s words.

“Right. These long-duration missions usually reveal dangers gradually as the story unfolds. At least now we know where the danger comes from.”

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However, things rarely went smoothly inside the platform.

And danger always arrived with overwhelming force.

When the group split up to explore the village, agreeing to regroup for lunch at their temporary lodging, one person never returned.

“Where’s Li Haoyang?”
“It’s almost time to eat, and he’s still not back?”
Someone shook their head. “No.”
“What about the people who went out with him? Why didn’t you come back with him?”
“We were originally going to visit the village chief’s house. Li Haoyang was at the back, but suddenly, without a word, he ran off. We couldn’t catch up, lost him, and no matter how we searched, we couldn’t find him. We waited until the meeting time, hoping he’d come back on his own, but...”

But he still hadn’t returned.

The situation suddenly took a turn for the worse.

“Did he act strangely before this?”
The person’s face darkened. “No!”
“That’s the problem. He stayed with me the entire time after entering the platform. I can confirm, there was nothing!”
“Then suddenly, like he went mad, he ran off without a word!”
“Like… he saw a ghost or something.”

He sounded incredulous. “But we’re not newbies entering a platform for the first time. Even if we saw a ghost, we wouldn’t panic like that and run off silently.”

Indeed, such behavior was more typical of a beginner.

His words cast a heavy shadow over the already tense atmosphere.

“An anomaly, and this early...”

There were still at least twenty hours left!

How were they going to survive?

What had happened to Li Haoyang when he ran off?