Opening the Long Night

Suddenly, Zhang Anzai was startled by a sound: "Thump!"

It was actually the sound of a drum.

He turned his head to find that Chen Xing, in this atmosphere and state, had actually turned on the radio. Before Zhang Anzai could react, he heard the bass and guitar.

"The Fisher King still wants... to continue being the Fisher King."

This was a song already halfway through.

He quickly realized why this song had appeared at this moment.

After figuring out Chen Xing's mechanism of existence at the gas station earlier, although Zhang Anzai was still somewhat afraid of the strange guy beside him, he at least dared to do many things inside the car.

Including turning on the radio to listen to music while driving toward Highway 45 once again.

"This guy even learned this..."

Chen Xing remained somewhat single-minded when it came to isolated operations that didn't involve other matters; he likely assumed that driving this stretch of road meant he had to turn on the radio to listen to music.

However, for some reason, Zhang Anzai did not stop him, simply listening to the melody in his ears while continuing to cut paper.

The old rock music in his ears was, strictly speaking, a product of a different era than current rock, but truth be told, Zhang Anzai was quite familiar with it.

"And the harbor is nowhere to be found."

Zhang Anzai threw open the car window with a whoosh and flung a handful of paper money into the air.

The song and the guitar interlude poured in, then were blown far away along with the rushing wind, trailing long and thin into the black mist that loomed in the rear.

The song, with its steady rhythm and non-abrasive vocals, echoed inside the cabin.

"The twilight is vast upon my chest."

Zhang Anzai's hands moved up and down, and he released a paper swallow.

The black mist behind them surged upward like a giant mouth, chasing after the suddenly flying swallow.

Listening to the guitar solo that followed, Zhang Anzai scattered another handful of paper money, which he had lit on fire before tossing it out.

There wasn't much paper left in the notebook, and Zhang Anzai's hands were so exhausted he could barely hold the scissors.

But when he turned to look.

Surrounded by flickering flames, that handful of paper money was scattered by the sound waves of the guitar, burned into piece after piece of debris, flying even more like real butterflies than the paper butterflies he had just cut.

The black mist rolled in from behind, having long since obscured most of the sky, as if the sky, covered in countless dark clouds, had suddenly shattered and was about to crash down upon them.

Yet, at that very moment, three sticks of incense burned out in front of the bag of soil he had dug up.

This was the third batch since they began their escape.

As the last bit of incense ash fell onto his lap, the remaining faint glow of fire inside the car extinguished completely.

However, at that exact moment, Zhang Anzai suddenly felt a strange sensation, as if his body, which had been suppressed and drained of blood, suddenly regained feeling.

He breathed heavily, clearly hearing the beating of his heart in his chest: "Thump-thump... thump-thump..."

He looked up and saw that the surrounding darkness suddenly seemed less dense. He leaned his head halfway out the window, the song pouring into his ears along with the wind.

He saw the real night sky and saw quite a few stars.

"This is... we broke through?"

Zhang Anzai looked back and saw the road behind them calm as usual, the starry night sky pressing down upon the endless highway and wilderness. Those nightmarish ghost mists and evil spirits that had chased him for so long seemed as if they had never appeared.

He suddenly felt a strange sense of unreality, then blinked.

"Ah—" A sharp shriek pierced his ears.

He saw that patch of black mist returning, only now it was pressed entirely against the ground and still sinking, with the evil spirit itself having half its body submerged into the asphalt.

The bizarre, fierce ghost had only half its body left crawling outside; it scratched the asphalt with terrifying claws, opened its jaw—which had split into three sections—and let out that cry at him.

After that, the ghost never appeared again, no matter how long he stared at the receding road through the howling wind, or how many times he blinked.

"It seems... the soul-calling ritual worked. We aren't in the ghost-loop environment anymore. We really escaped."

"Whoosh!" The car accelerated again, and the wind rushed in violently.

Many paper scraps that had been stuck to Zhang Anzai's legs and arms were blown away. He couldn't muster the strength, nor did he have the heart to tidy them up, simply gathering his things in a rough manner.

Zhang Anzai let out a long sigh of relief. Calculating the distance, there wasn't much left to go until the Highway 45 sign.

"It's up to you, Chen Xing. We'll be out soon."

Chen Xing, beside him, continued to drive quietly as always.

The song ended quickly, and the feeling of a boulder-like darkness pressing on Zhang Anzai's chest was truly gone.

On the radio, the host of the music program was chatting about trivialities that wouldn't affect him.

Zhang Anzai's consciousness slowly drifted away from his exhausted body, returning to his original form. Here, he could suffer less from the car's jolting, making it easier for him to rest properly.

Additionally, because that fierce ghost had constantly slowed their progress on the road, it was already past 6 o'clock.

Zhang Anzai silently turned off the computer, packed his things, pushed the door open, and walked toward the office.

Since it wasn't yet time for work, he had stepped out early out of concern for any other unforeseen changes; this counted as voluntary overtime, and he was the only one doing it, with not a soul around him.

Halfway there, he suddenly froze.

Although he had shifted most of his consciousness back to this side, he was only primarily operating this body; he was not yet capable of blocking out the senses of his other body.

Therefore, he heard a question mixed into the singing: "Friend, the people on the radio all have names, and I have a name too. What is your name?"

His consciousness returned to the instance, where the surroundings remained pitch black, save for the horizon where the Highway 45 sign was already visible, illuminated by a sliver of morning light that had yet to turn a warm red.

"Treading the gray trajectory, filled with the reflections of the abyss... I have already shouldered a lifetime of hardship, regret, and sighs..."

The music on the radio had switched to Gray Trajectory, and it was quickly approaching the dual-guitar solo at the end.

Zhang Anzai, however, remained lost in thought over Chen Xing's question, not looking at the road stretching toward the edge of his vision outside the window.

He realized that Chen Xing's intelligence seemed to have grown once again.

After a moment of contemplation, he did not leave his player alias, but instead stated: "My name is Zhang Anzai, your friend."

Chen Xing remained silent as always, just like when they had first met.

"Vroom!" The car engine roared once more, and the sedan finally surged past the Highway 45 sign; this time, the sign did not vanish behind their vehicle.

The road in the distance seemed the same as it had always looked, but the place the road led to was entirely different.

Zhang Anzai's player body was pulled out of the instance.

He therefore decisively switched his consciousness back to his original body first.

The company remained quiet, and he had just acted like a normal employee who had stayed up late and was feeling a bit sleepy, resting against the wall.

This was not strange, as many of the potions affordable to newcomers had side effects, so many people looked this sickly first thing in the morning.

Today was not Monday, so it might be slightly unusual, but back then, many people would crawl back before their deadlines looking exactly like this.

They were all people who could shout that they had stayed up late for the company and risked their lives for the company.

Zhang Anzai took the stairs two at a time as he rushed to the office, pretending to catch up on sleep as he slumped over his workstation.

Having been busy all night, it was finally time for the settlement.