TEFSCBSS Chapter 66

Chapter 66: Master Wuzhen Has Been Killed

Xilou Script Store: The Shan Shi Village Scenario

A wide-open plaza was set up with offerings for a ritual. At the very front stood an enormous portrait, nearly five meters tall, depicting an exceptionally beautiful woman.

She was dressed in a flowing red robe, holding a radiant full moon in her hands, casting a soft glow. Surrounding her were rare flowers, exotic fruits, and swirling, auspicious clouds.

Yet, her face remained obscured—just like the entire Shan Shi Village, shrouded in mist, concealing her true appearance.

Wan Niang gazed at the scene before her, eyes filled with intrigue. Zhao Wen couldn’t help but exclaim, “My God, do you know how much effort Boss Zhao must have put into this? This painting—it’s incredible!”

The two crouched in a pile of dry straw, burying themselves within it, leaving only two small holes to peek through, allowing them a clear view of the unfolding scene.

Meanwhile, Wang Bokao and Gu Qing had climbed onto the nearest rooftop, lying flat, making sure not to make a sound.

As for Li Tiechui, he had already blended into the crowd, disguising himself as an ordinary villager.

The village chief turned around, pleased to see that everyone had arrived.

“Is everything ready? right, place the coffin properly, set the prayer mats in place. Leave a few people here to watch over the coffin, and the rest, come with me to invite Master Wuzhen.”

Wuzhen?

Hearing this name, both Wan Niang and Wang Bokao were momentarily stunned. Wasn’t this monk always focused on almsgiving? He hardly ever visited the script store. So why was he suddenly playing a role in this scenario?

Before they could dwell on it, Wuzhen was soon escorted in by the villagers. A line of young monks trailed behind him in quick succession.

Among them was Wufei—the same carefree monk who sold script slots—sticking close to his senior brother.

The village chief greeted them with deep respect. “Master, everything is prepared. Please, let us begin the ritual.”

Wuzhen nodded with his usual honest demeanor. “Begin.”

At his signal, Wufei and the rest of the disciples sat cross-legged on the prayer mats, chanting scriptures and performing the ritual.

The scriptures were incomprehensible, yet the synchronized chanting of more than a dozen monks carried an undeniable solemnity. Their voices grew louder, and strangely, a golden glow began to radiate from them, clashing against the swirling gray-black mist in the air.

(Lighting Crew: Sob, sob, Boss Zhao is amazing, so creative! He even came up with giant paper lanterns and reflective boards! But our hands are so sore from holding those boards—we better get extra drumsticks for this!)

Regardless of whether they were the “villagers” prepared for the scene or the players spectating from the sidelines, they were all completely taken aback by the spectacle.

Wang Bokao muttered under his breath, “Are these two little monks really that powerful?”

He recalled his past experiences in script-killing games. Hmm… thankfully, he hadn’t offended them before. He sighed in relief and made a mental note—next time, he had to recruit these two brothers onto his team.

However, the chanting seemed to carry a hypnotic effect. As the mist above churned and thickened, their vision became increasingly obscured. The entire space gradually sank into darkness.

Time became meaningless in the void—it felt both like an instant and an eternity.

Suddenly, a bloodcurdling scream echoed from the center of the altar.

A chilling, cackling laughter—sharp and eerie—emerged from the direction of the painting.

Everyone’s hearts clenched. But the mist was too dense—none of the players outside could see what was happening inside.

“Ahh—who was it?! Who killed the master?!”

“Oh no! Senior Brother, what happened?!”

“Senior Brother is dead! Senior Brother is dead!”

A wave of panic spread through the crowd. The players quickly realized—the script had reached its inevitable turning point. The ritual host, Master Wuzhen… had been killed.

Then—

BANG! BANG! BANG!

A series of loud thuds echoed from the coffin.

“Oh my god—the coffin is moving! We’re doomed! We’re doomed!”

“The Female Ghost Is Out! We’re Doomed!”

“We’re all doomed!”

The banging against the coffin grew louder with each passing second. Panic spread among the villagers, sending them scattering in all directions. Their frantic movements gradually dispersed some of the surrounding mist.

Wufei and his younger disciples huddled around Wuzhen’s body, wailing and lamenting with such intensity that it almost seemed real.

However, the village chief was furious. He roared, “Why are you all running?! Get back here!”

Terrified by his rage, the villagers hesitated, then slowly stopped in their tracks. Their feet may have stilled, but the fear on their faces was impossible to conceal.

Wufei wiped away his grief, staggering to his feet. His eyes burned red with anger. “Village Chief, you owe me an explanation!”

“An explanation?”

“Hah! My senior brother was murdered in your village. You have the time it takes to burn one incense stick to give me the killer. If you fail…” Wufei’s gaze darkened. “We monks can help you perform a ritual to free you from suffering—or we can send you all straight to hell for a hundred kinds of torment!”

The village chief flinched at his words, visibly shaken by the monk’s intimidating presence. He was well aware of the monks’ abilities and feared their power. His shrewd eyes darted around before he quickly pointed fingers elsewhere.

“Master, everyone in our village is innocent! We all seek transcendence, but today, six outsiders arrived. It must be them!”

“Yes, yes! It must be them!”

“Master, don’t worry! We’ll capture them right now and hand them over to you!”

“Yes! They must pay for their crimes!”

Acting on the chief’s command, the villagers immediately began searching for the players. Thanks to Su Li’s off-field intel and the lighting crew’s subtle hints, they swiftly captured Wan Niang, Zhao Wen, Wang Bokao, and Gu Qing.

The four were dragged to the center of the altar. The village chief, trembling with feigned sincerity, pleaded, “Master Wufei, here they are! Do with them as you see fit! We only ask that you spare your wrath and complete the ritual for us!”

“We’ll deal with the ritual later. But didn’t you say there were six of them? I only see four.”

“Uh…” The village chief hesitated, then turned sharply to his lackeys. “Where are the other two?!”

Just then, a villager pointed at Li Tiechui. “Village Chief! This one’s from our village, but his soul has been swapped! I remember—his body belongs to one of the outsiders!”

“Hmm.” The village chief turned back, eyes brimming with fake innocence as he looked at Wufei. “Master, you can have him too. Do whatever you wish!”

Li Tiechui hadn’t expected the chief to throw his villager under the bus so quickly. He was so furious that he almost flexed his biceps in protest. Damn it! And here I was, trying to help complete the ritual!

But he understood one thing—he was outnumbered. With villagers closing in on all sides, he had no choice but to shuffle toward the altar.

Yet, Wufei wasn’t satisfied. “There’s still one more! Where is the last one?”

The remaining villagers exchanged nervous glances, scanning the crowd for another “swapped soul.” But everyone around them was familiar—none of them were outsiders.

Li Tiechui smirked. He knew exactly where the last player was. But was he going to say anything? Nope. He was having way too much fun watching them scramble.

The village chief’s eyes flickered as he recalled the figure he had stuffed inside the coffin earlier. He hadn’t seen their face clearly, but he knew—it was one of the players.

However, if the ritual was to succeed, that person had to stay inside the coffin.

Fearing that Wufei might kill them before the ritual was complete, the village chief made a calculated decision. He turned back and said, “Master, for now, take these people. We’ll search the village for the last one. I only ask that you find the true culprit and let Master Wuzhen rest in peace!”

Meanwhile, lying comfortably on a soft cushion, surrounded by his wailing disciples, Wuzhen internally sighed.

“Rest in peace? Thank you very much for that. Amitabha.”

Well, it was all for the sake of money, fate, and his dear junior brothers. Surely, Buddha wouldn’t mind if he played dead for a little while longer.