Han Jiao had no idea she’d caught Wen Renxi’s attention. Her mind was entirely on her mission, and she wasn’t concerned about the villagers… not until she entered Shangyang Village, anyway.

Shangyang Village, the mission destination, was where the real horror lay.

She tried to recall everything she’d read about the “Snow Wedding Gown” dungeon. The story took place in the isolated mountain village of Shangyang.

Shangyang was ancient, its customs vastly different from the outside world. While modern society had progressed, Shangyang still had figures like the “Wealthy Hu”—who even used that title anymore? And Hu held a special status in the village.

Their mission was to help Hu find his missing daughter-in-law, Zaoya, and ensure she married his deceased son, Hu Jizu. It sounded simple, but Hu Jizu was dead.

The local custom dictated that a man dying unmarried would be lonely in the afterlife. Hu, a prominent figure, wanted a good match for his son and had been arranging it since Hu Jizu’s death. Zaoya, the village beauty, was his pick.

Zaoya had run away on her wedding day.

They had to find her and hand her over to Hu for a marriage to a dead man.

Han Jiao seethed. As a woman, she hated this. But failure meant death for everyone.

Besides, Zaoya was already dead. Shangyang was just a Nightmare Realm.

Wen Renxi kept her eye on Han Jiao. Compared to the others, Han Jiao was a terrible liar, making her the perfect target.

Her instincts were right.

Han Jiao’s quick glance at her stats was telling. Others might dismiss it, but Wen Renxi had seen too much.

A system? Or something similar?

And what were they so afraid of? What was so dangerous about Shangyang? Yet they wouldn’t abandon the mission.

They have a task. They’ll pay a price if they fail. Death? Trapped? Wen Renxi wasn’t sure.

Plus, their odd, out-of-place vibe compared to Professor Huang and his team…

Players.

Fourth disaster people?

Probably a horror game, or they wouldn’t be so freaked.

Wen Renxi pieced things together, then looked away.

Too bad I don’t know their objectives or Shangyang’s dangers. I need info.

She was just a student here for fieldwork. She didn’t want to die. She needed to know Shangyang’s secrets.

Her gaze returned to Han Jiao.

Yeah, she’s the easiest to manipulate.

“Today’s the day Mr. Hu’s son gets married. You can all join the feast. It’s a big deal here!” the driver said to Professor Huang.

“The bride’s lucky. If Mr. Hu’s son hadn’t passed, she wouldn’t have this chance. Marry him, and she’ll be a rich widow in the next life!”

Wen Renxi, focused on Han Jiao, still caught the driver’s words.

“Huh? Uncle, next life? Doesn’t she become a rich widow now?” Wen Renxi asked, feigning curiosity. Her soft voice made her seem naive.

“Of course! She’s Hu’s lawful wife!”

“Hey, this is a happy occasion. Should we bring gifts?” the man next to Wen Renxi asked.

The driver’s face turned grim. “Eat, but don’t be too cheerful. Our customs are different. Break a rule, and you’ll be kicked out.”

As helpful as a chocolate teapot.

Something was wrong with Hu marrying his dead son. No wonder the driver was warning them.

It was getting weirder by the minute.

Entering Shangyang made it worse.

“It’s their culture. Respect it,” Professor Huang snapped, glaring at the man.

Shangyang was small, just over a hundred households. Hu’s place was the only one big enough for them to stay.

Despite the “wedding,” Hu’s house was draped in white mourning banners.

The driver left, accepting a pack of cigarettes from Professor Huang. He leaned in, whispering, “It’s Mr. Hu’s son’s seventh-day memorial and wedding. Don’t cause trouble. Eat, and mind your own business. Irritate Mr. Hu, and we’ll kick you out.”

Wen Renxi had figured it out from the white banners.

Professor Huang, unsurprised, explained, “It’s their custom. Don’t interfere. Living brides wear red, or at least something with red. But for this, they have a special white gown.”

“It’s unique. Apart from the color, it’s like a normal wedding dress. We’re lucky to see it.”

A white gown—a wedding dress and a funeral shroud.

The Snow Wedding Gown.

Wen Renxi knew: it was a ghost marriage.

So much for “unique customs.”

“Don’t worry, Professor. We won’t disturb their traditions,” said the bespectacled Shao Xiaofeng. The others nodded.

Their mission was to make sure the wedding happened.

Wen Renxi’s hand gripped the knife at her back, then loosened.

Don’t act rashly. They’re wary for a reason.

Han Jiao rolled her eyes at Professor Huang’s lecture.

“Don’t be dismissive. If you let the bride escape, they’ll find a replacement,” Huang warned.

“Okay, Professor.”

Hu was too busy to entertain guests. He sent a butler to show them to their rooms.

“It’s our young master’s big day. Dinner’s tonight,” the butler said, leaving.

The others quickly claimed rooms. Wen Renxi engineered it so she and Han Jiao were roommates until the end.

The door closed, and Han Jiao relaxed, feeling safe.

She dismissed Wen Renxi.

Just a villager, not even from here. Probably cannon fodder.

Today was Zaoya and Hu Jizu’s wedding. Zaoya would run. She needed to catch her fast, before the others did.

Only one could complete the mission. Failure meant death.

“You seem confident,” Wen Renxi said behind her, making Han Jiao jump.

“What?”

“You seem determined to finish this mission.”

Wen Renxi knew competing was key, so she baited her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Wen Renxi chuckled, looking smug.

Han Jiao: “???”

Wait!

That reaction!

Crap! She’s a player?!

Han Jiao finally realized. They’d ruled her out because she seemed weak.

“Your face is priceless,” Wen Renxi said, looking innocent. Han Jiao wasn’t fooled.

“You’re a player?”

Wen Renxi just looked at her, smug.

“We talked, and you didn’t react. Playing us is funny?” Han Jiao, feeling betrayed, lashed out.

She had chosen Han Jiao for a reason.

Level 60, but inexperienced. A cash cow carried through the game.

Anyone else would have been suspicious.

And they didn’t think a villager would figure them out.

“Just amusing how you compete but still share info,” Wen Renxi said.

Han Jiao was speechless.

They had held back, but they hadn’t turned on each other.

“Like you know so much. There’s only a bit online about ‘Snow Wedding Gown.’ Don’t act like you have secrets,” Han Jiao retorted.

Wen Renxi didn’t bite. She knew Han Jiao was fishing for info.

“A bit more than you. You’ll figure it out,” she said.

You’ll figure it out meant, “You’ll have to find things out the hard way.”

“Do you know where Zaoya runs to?”

Wen Renxi went silent.

Zaoya, the bride, would run.

Their mission was to catch her. Not to save her.

Zaoya wore white, a funeral shroud.

The butler said there would be a wedding night. How did the living and dead consummate? Probably a burial.

“Live in the same room, die in the same grave.”

The driver said, “Marry Hu’s son, and she’ll be rich in the next life.”

Next life.

Did marrying a dead man mean she wouldn’t be his widow?

No.

“Next life” meant Zaoya wouldn’t survive.

Their mission: return the escaped bride for a burial.

Buried alive? Or after death?

Wen Renxi’s hand tightened on the knife.