So, how should one indulge with abandon?

Chen Sheng wore an expression as if he'd seen a ghost. He had just finished playing the loyal friend who’d take a blade for his comrade, and now, so soon, he was the one getting stabbed in the back? How could retribution come so quickly? Normally, it waited until you were old and withered, didn’t it? This healing game wasn’t very meticulous! None of this matched reality at all!

No, perhaps there was something else at play here. After all, Yan Shidong, that good fellow, was a “save point”... How could a save point ever lead players into a trap?

So, Chen Sheng decided to ask for details.

He soon learned that the tour bus he had been riding, after leaving him behind, had mysteriously crashed not long after. The entire bus had tumbled down to the foot of the mountain and was engulfed in flames, reduced to a charred shell, with no survivors.

“So all my companions are just gone?” Chen Sheng’s expression grew even more incredulous. That boy, clad in black and looking every bit the young detective—he’d just died off screen? Wasn’t that a bit too arbitrary?

“Though, being burned black does kind of suit his aura...” Chen Sheng muttered to himself, then asked, “You said the bus crash was mysterious. How so?”

“That stretch of road isn’t narrow at all—it’s wide and clear. But out of nowhere, the bus swerved sharply as if to avoid something, then crashed. By the time rescuers arrived, the entire bus had already burned to a shell in a very short time. Normally, even if there were flammable materials on board, it would take an hour or two to burn like that. And buses like that don’t even allow fireworks onboard,” explained the police officer who had been speaking.

Hearing this, Chen Sheng couldn’t help but recall the moment before he’d boarded, when a hand had yanked him back. Could that have been a sign?

“I wonder if I triggered some mechanism in this healing game, or if this was all planned by the game designer.” For a moment, Chen Sheng couldn’t make sense of it.

If this were real life, it would be clear—either ancestral protection or a ghostly intervention. But either way, it wasn’t exactly good news; both meant there were spirits at work.

“Hmm, it’s more likely I triggered some game mechanism. And given the healing direction of this game, it probably wants me to vent my negative emotions through this event.”

Chen Sheng nodded slightly. He was convinced his deduction was right. It had to be so. After all, a healing game wasn’t only about filling every moment with sweetness and light.

Humans have two sides: one of light, one of darkness. When light reaches its extreme, it becomes darkness.

To put it more fantastically, there’s a gentle, adorable little girl—or rather, a ghost—living in everyone’s heart.

“So, how exactly am I supposed to ‘enjoy’ this?” Chen Sheng fell into deep thought, but when he couldn’t figure it out, he simply followed the group of officers back to complete the handover.

It was during this process that Chen Sheng first met the chief of the Shangjiang City Police Department—the uncle of Yan Shidong. Throughout, he surreptitiously observed the faces of Yan Shidong and his uncle, searching for any sign of conspiracy.

After all, if they were truly plotting against him, they should betray themselves with some oddity of expression.

The “NPCs” in this healing game were all so lifelike, so vivid, it was impossible not to treat them as real people.

Of course, this was all just part of playing the game well—he didn’t want to miss any clues.

In the end, though, he found nothing.

Yan Shidong, upon seeing him, was beside himself with joy, rushing up to embrace him.

“I brought back the item,” Chen Sheng said, pulling the box from his pocket, ready to hand it over. But both Yan Shidong and his uncle recoiled several steps as soon as they saw it, staring at the box as if it were some monstrous beast.

Chen Sheng was baffled.

The box was so light—could it really contain poison? Or some kind of airborne toxin?

Noticing Chen Sheng’s confusion, Yan Shidong’s uncle cleared his throat and said, “There’s no problem as long as it’s inside the box. It’s just that its reputation is so fearsome—I’ve heard countless stories about it since childhood. Now, seeing it in person, I can’t help but be afraid.”

This was meant as a logical explanation for their earlier odd reaction.

Curiosity piqued, Chen Sheng asked, “What’s inside?”

“It’s a painting—the Delusion Painting,” Yan Shidong’s uncle replied, his demeanor instantly growing uneasy as he uttered those last words.

Chen Sheng nodded. It seemed this “chief NPC” really had been frightened by this so-called Delusion Painting.

“What’s the story behind it?” he asked.

“You don’t know?” Yan Shidong looked at him in shock.

Chen Sheng shook his head. He was a player who hadn’t even read the game materials and had just jumped in.

So Yan Shidong explained, “The Delusion Painting looks just like a child’s casual scrawl.”

“Like Van Gogh possessed?” Chen Sheng interjected.

“Who’s Van Gogh?”

A reasonable question. Chen Sheng let it pass. “So, what then? Does something come out of the painting?”

“No, but whoever looks at it will have countless delusional thoughts arise from the depths of their heart. What those delusions are, I don’t know. But anyone who has seen the painting dies mysteriously in the end.”

“This thing is useful for that recent strange event?” Chen Sheng couldn’t help but ask. The Delusion Painting sounded like an evil artifact targeting humans—bringing it back would only empower whatever uncanny force they were up against.

“Ghosts who look at the painting will die just as mysteriously,” Yan Shidong’s uncle replied.

Chen Sheng glanced at the box in his hand, eyes widening.

So this thing was “1v9”—no allies, just eliminating whatever it encountered.

“Chen, you should go back and rest. You’ve had a long, hard journey,” said Yan Shidong’s uncle, a clear hint to take his leave.

Chen Sheng had been about to go, but on hearing this, he was displeased.

What about the reward?

Wasn’t this supposed to be a quest for leveling up?

He’d completed everything—so why wasn’t he being rewarded?

“No reward for me?” Chen Sheng rolled up his sleeves, ready to throw a punch if the answer was “no.”

These “NPCs” wanted to pull some capitalist nonsense about unpaid overtime? Not a chance!