Chapter 3

Three Knocks for Humans, Four for Ghosts

"Found some bananas. Can spare you two."

Lin Ye tapped open the lord’s chat window.

"Corpse oil?" came the instant reply.

"Not much left. Only five units."

"Five’s fine!"

After a pause, the lord agreed. Initial reserves plus this should suffice—no need to burn the lamp all night.

"Deal."

Human nature could be trickier than ghosts, but simultaneous trades prevented scams.

The exchange finalized swiftly. Two bananas and five corpse oil units vanished from Lin Ye’s pack, replaced by bundled incense sticks.

​​[Incense]​​

Type: Tool

Grade: Ceremonial

Quantity: 20

Description: Spectral entities find its scent irresistible. Prolonged exposure may subtly enhance their power.

"Not bad," Lin Ye muttered, about to close the chat when a private message flashed:

"Got more bananas, bro?"

A female lord.

"A few left."

"Could you spare one?"

"Why?"

"Need it."

Huh? Seriously? Now?

"Damn, sis. Getting cravings in this atmosphere?"

"Starving."

"Yeah. You sound really hungry."

Lin Ye rummaged his pack as he typed—not that he had extras.

"Two then. But curious—won’t it be… dirty?"

Duh.

"Who eats bananas without peeling?"

…Wait.

Eating them?

My bad. Misread that.

"Your earlier message…?"

"I meant… eating them too."

Back to business.

"You know the stakes. Even for a girl, no freebies. Trade only."

"But my upgrade reward was a skillbook. Already learned it. Can’t trade."

"Then no deal."

Lin Ye moved to end the chat.

Night deepened. Sleep beckoned. Tomorrow meant more grave-digging.

"Wait!"

Sensing his impatience, she rushed: "I’ve… got something else." Hesitation bled through her words.

"What?"

"Red… Red Dragon."

Dragon?

Day one? How?

Lin Ye snapped alert.

"Not that kind of dragon!"

"What kind, then?"

Candle Dragon? Winged Serpent? Primordial War-Beast?

"It’s… ugh… embarrassing. Just check."

She slapped an oversized adhesive strip into the trade window.

First glance: shoe insole.

But the faint crimson hue at the center seemed off.

Zooming in, Lin Ye froze.

Ah. That’s why she blushed.

Long silence. Then:

"So… authentic?"

"Swear! I was on my period when transported. Brought one pad."

"Fine. One-time trust."

The trade closed in haste. Silence followed—her dignity in tatters.

Midnight swallowed the burial grounds. Cloud-veiled moonlight cast sickly silver across the dead earth. Upgraded lords slept; those still on burial mats shivered.

Lin Ye settled in. Organizing tools in his coffin’s corner, he lay down. The corpse-oil lamp flickered out. Darkness clamped shut.

Rustling weeds. Distant shrieks. The coffin’s damp rot clogged his lungs. Sleep wouldn’t come—yet tomorrow’s dangers demanded rest. He forced his eyes shut.

So much had crashed through his life since sunset’s arrival. A reset button for exhaustion.

Just as drowsiness crept in—

Thud! Thud! Thud! THUD!

Four knocks hammered his coffin lid.

Lin Ye’s blood froze.

Four.

He knew he’d looted ownerless graves today.

So who was knocking at this hour?

His brain raced.

Survival manual rules: night belongs to the "neighbors."

Four knocks meant ghosts.

Opening the lid? Death.

Staying put? Suspicion meant worse death.

Lin Ye inhaled. Steeled his voice:

"Who’s there?"

"Rise and shine! Boss is treating us to late-night chow," croaked a sandpaper voice outside.

Chow? Unclear menu.

But the word us was the lifeline.

They saw him as one of them.

He was safe. For now.

"Give me a sec."

Play the part, then.

Lin Ye slathered his skin with remaining corpse oil. With the burial shroud draped over him, he double-checked the disguise. Flawless.

He cranked open the lid.

Even braced for horror, the sight nearly emptied his guts.

Two corpses waited beside his grave mound.

Corpses? No—walking ones.

Rot gnawed at their limbs—skin gangrene-green, muscles sloughed off bones. Exposed joints jutted through necrotic flesh, oozing yellowish pus. One’s femur pierced its knee like a broken flagpole.

Hurk—

Lin Ye gagged.

"Something wrong, brother?" one corpse rasped.

"Fine," Lin Ye choked. "Just… remembered my hometown specialty."

"What dish?"

"Cowboy casserole."