Chapter 1

Volume 1 Chapter 1: The Human World Trial Game

“Player K27216, Tang Cuo, confirmed dead on April 1, 2019, New Calendar, at 23:05.”

“Human World Trial Game cleared: failed.”

“Survival duration: twenty-four years, zero hours, eighteen minutes, and six seconds. Rating: A. Initial character points awarded: -5.”

“Ding—please collect your survival assessment report.”

In a hazy white fog, Tang Cuo listened to the male broadcast voice coming from nowhere, his face expressionless. He figured he was probably dead—he’d died on the street five minutes ago. The only things nearby had been an unconscious drunk and a stray dog, both quietly waiting for him to go cold. But in the blink of an eye, he was here. The blood on his body remained, but his wounds were gone, and he had none of his personal belongings.

He looked around. Nothing but white fog in every direction, with visibility limited to about five meters around him.

“Ding—please collect your survival assessment report.” The broadcast voice didn’t sound electronic. It was clear and clean, like a young boy’s.

As a private investigator—even a third-rate one—Tang Cuo never lacked the ability to assess a situation. So he concluded he was probably dreaming, and everything before him was a dying hallucination.

Besides, dead people didn’t need reports.

“Ding—please collect your survival assessment report.” The broadcast continued urging him, clearly prepared to keep repeating itself until Tang Cuo acknowledged it.

Tang Cuo simply sat down, because standing was a bit tiring. After a while, the broadcast finally changed its content.

“Player K27216, passive survival attitude, warning issued once, 1 point deducted. Current character points: -6. Please collect your survival assessment report immediately.”

As the voice faded, a book comparable to an English-Chinese dictionary slammed heavily onto the ground in front of Tang Cuo. It had a thick black hardcover, with Tang Cuo’s name and player number embossed in golden ornamental script.

Tang Cuo opened it and read one page before his face turned dark. The book was densely packed with records of his life, and one entry even read—

Tang Cuo, age seven, February 27, 2002, 9 PM, fought with a vicious dog at Taijian Lane, Gusu District, Suzhou City. Frightened passersby, 0.5 points deducted. Refused rabies vaccine, 5 points deducted.

“Tsk.” Tang Cuo knew he and dogs were destined to never get along, but what was wrong with this idiotic point-deduction system? Refusing a rabies vaccine actually cost 5 points, and in the end he’d been held down and forced to get it anyway.

He flipped straight to the last page and saw the report’s assessment of his brief life—Defiant of authority, passively lazy, determined to be a heretic and brave in courting death. Recommendation: cherish life, survive past twenty-five.

Tang Cuo’s face darkened further. He snapped the book shut, not wanting to look at it a second longer. But the moment he closed the book, the scene before him suddenly changed.

A speck of golden light appeared in the white fog. Tang Cuo looked up and saw its true form—a golden bell the size of a baby’s fist, shaped like a clock bell.

The bell rang, and the white fog churned.

“Ding—”

“If survival is a game, are you ready?”

“Please remember the First Law of Evernight City: Survival is justice.”

“Enjoy your survival!”

As the voice faded, Tang Cuo suddenly felt darkness before his eyes, followed by a spinning sensation. The whole process lasted about five seconds. When Tang Cuo’s vision returned, he found himself standing on a circular plaza, surrounded by a dense crowd of people—at least several thousand.

Among them were men and women, old and young. Closest to Tang Cuo was a frail little girl in a hospital gown, bald, looking about eleven or twelve. She was crouching on the ground, tightly clutching her head.

A bit farther away, there was an old man with a deeply lined face and graying hair, a neurotic middle-aged man covered in blood constantly checking whether his limbs were still attached, an irritated woman in red, and others.

The plaza was large, paved with one-meter-square black stone slabs, their surfaces polished smooth. It was nighttime, the darkness deep, yet the plaza was brightly lit—because a massive golden bell floated directly above it, containing what seemed like a small sun inside, illuminating the area as bright as day.

A bell. Another bell. Tang Cuo somehow felt this bell was the same one from the white fog space.

Looking further out, forty-nine black stone pillars encircled the plaza. These pillars were strange—their shafts were thick, requiring at least three people to encircle them, and they stood at least thirty meters tall. The shadows of the pillars converged at the center of the plaza, creating an immense sense of oppression.

It was like being watched from above by a god, the soul compressed into a tiny space, constantly shrinking, constantly prostrating, until it became a speck of dust.

Tang Cuo deeply disliked this feeling.

The surroundings remained noisy, with崩溃的哭嚎—hysterical wailing—and increasingly suppressed whispers rising from various spots, like ten thousand ducks screaming madly in his ears.

The woman in red gave a light snort but offered no opinion. The old man, who looked like he already had one foot in the grave, came over to greet Tang Cuo.

“Young man, where are you from?” he asked.

Tang Cuo didn’t answer immediately. In his peripheral vision, a flash of white light left behind a dazed young man dripping wet. Only then did Tang Cuo look at the old man and say, “Car accident.”

The old man paused briefly, then touched the wrinkles on his forehead as if trying to smooth them out, and said with a helpless smile, “So you’re a clear-headed one, much better than the rest of us. I’m old, didn’t have many days left anyway. Living to this age, you could call it a natural death. But who’d have thought I’d open my eyes and end up here.”

He held up three fingers toward Tang Cuo. “About three hours now.”

He carefully pointed at the others. “That little girl, poor thing—cancer, couldn’t be saved. That one covered in blood has only been here about half an hour, still crazy. Looks like a car accident too.”

All of them had died today.

As for the woman, the old man shook his head—clearly he hadn’t managed to strike up a conversation. But just as Tang Cuo looked over, the woman impatiently looked back and said, “We’re all dead anyway, just wait for the King of Hell to judge us. Those who should reincarnate will reincarnate, those who should go to hell will go to hell. What’s there to talk about?”

The old man disagreed, his forehead wrinkles piling up like dried tree bark. “What kind of King of Hell collects people like this? There’s no such tradition from ancient times to now—it doesn’t fit our ancestors’ principles. Did you all hear that voice? Saying something about a game—”

He stopped mid-sentence because he’d finally noticed the survival assessment report in Tang Cuo’s hands, his cloudy eyes full of shock.

“Yours is…” He even unconsciously switched to a respectful form of address.

The woman was startled too. She also held a report, but she was young—her not-quite-thirty-year life had only filled a book the thickness of a language textbook, and that was thanks to her rebellious youth. She’d seen the old man’s too—at his age, it was only slightly thicker than hers.

But this guy? He was younger than her, right? What had he done in his short twenty-some years?

Neither of them spoke, unable to sort out their thoughts for a moment. The sudden silence made the car accident man and the girl in the hospital gown look over too, and everyone fell silent together.

The atmosphere was a bit awkward.

Tang Cuo’s face was expressionless—he didn’t want to explain, he wanted to hit someone. Just then, a clear, energetic voice suddenly cut in, shattering the silent atmosphere instantly.

“MomaaaAAA!” The voice wasn’t just sudden—it was extremely lively, just like its owner—a big boy in a green dinosaur onesie, sixteen or seventeen, with a ruddy complexion and vigorous energy.

Everyone around turned to look at him in unison—a whole crowd of several dozen people. He immediately froze, his young face painted over with five colors of surprise, nervousness, fear, and delight, finally settling on one sentence.

“Holy shit?” He blinked.

The old man was rubbing his temples—old age really couldn’t handle noise, his head was aching. The others reacted differently; most turned their heads back, no longer paying attention. Only Tang Cuo remained unchanged from start to finish.

The dinosaur boy grinned awkwardly and scratched his head, looking left and right, seeming somewhat at a loss. The old man sighed and waved him over, and he immediately came close.

“Young man, where are you from?”

“Free shipping zone, free shipping zone! I just said yesterday I wanted to go traveling, and boom, I traveled here! Pretty far, right?”

“Yeah… how did you die?”

“Probably sudden death! Died just like that. See, I’m still in my pajamas—bought them on Taobao for 39.9 with free shipping, coral fleece… I didn’t even make it to the hospital!”

“That’s a pretty unfair death.”

“Right?!”

Tang Cuo crossed his arms, feeling like he’d just listened to a comedy routine.

The old man introduced the two to each other. They were all freshly dead—when you’re out and about, making more friends was never a bad idea. In just that short time, several more people had appeared on the plaza. More and more panic and noise converged together, with no telling how long it would last.

Tang Cuo had never thought about what the afterlife looked like. But what concerned him most wasn’t the existence of this world—it was the wording in the broadcast.

The duration of twenty-four years, zero hours, eighteen minutes, and six seconds was the length of his brief life. The time of death and the life records in the report all matched. If Evernight City really existed, it sounded like an afterlife.

But the Human World Trial Game—where did the “game” come from?

Tang Cuo died a violent death on the street, so the game was cleared: failed. Did that mean his twenty-four years of life had been a survival game? Just for him, or for everyone?

This half hour of experience was too bizarre—even Tang Cuo couldn’t judge. Meanwhile, Chi Yan had already thrown his initial nervousness and fear to the back of his mind and was crouching on the ground coaxing the little girl.

“Oh right.” He suddenly had a flash of inspiration and grabbed his pajama hood, tearing at it forcefully. With a rip, he even tore a hole in the back.

People nearby looked at him strangely, thinking he’d been scared stupid, that his brain wasn’t working right. But he was still grinning happily, holding the green dinosaur head out to the little girl. “Here, you wear it. It’s pretty cold at night.”

The girl froze, covering her bald head, forgetting to take it for a moment. The others were the same—after their initial shock, they turned away without a word. Some looked lost, some showed compassion, some were dejected, and some seemed to draw a bit of comfort from Chi Yan’s gesture.

A small act of kindness is like a firefly in the darkness—it always makes people feel a little better.

Time slipped quietly by.

Waiting is a rusty dull knife, constantly grinding away at pitiful nerves.

“I can’t take it anymore! I want to leave this place, I can’t stay in this hellhole any longer, I want to go back, go back… I want to go back!” A middle-aged woman with blood on her forehead suddenly went mad, stumbling and shoving through the dense crowd, rushing out of the plaza.

Tang Cuo narrowed his eyes. This wasn’t a normal space—apart from the plaza illuminated by the bell, everything else was an eerie, thick darkness.

What disappeared along with the middle-aged woman was the sound of her footsteps after rushing out of the plaza. The moment she stepped beyond the light, she was swallowed by the darkness, vanishing into thin air.

Everyone was scared, faces full of fear and inner worry, but no one dared follow and take a look. And just two or three minutes after the middle-aged woman disappeared, a piercing scream suddenly came from the thick darkness beyond the plaza.

Like ghostly claws scraping across a glass window.

The entire plaza fell silent as if everyone’s throat had been gripped, the atmosphere abruptly freezing. The next moment, the familiar bell sound rang out, shattering the stagnation and making everyone’s heart skip a beat.

“Ding—”

“Real-time broadcast: Class of 20190401, a total of 6,315 players have completed the Human World Trial Game. Overall rating: F. Average points: 13.”

“On such a wonderful night, the once-daily Evernight City entrance ceremony is about to begin. Now let us warmly welcome the great and kind Mr. Crow to give a speech!”

Before the voice finished, an exasperated voice suddenly cut in.

“No, today’s Mr. Crow doesn’t want to be kind at all! Mr. Crow is angry, very angry! You are truly the worst class I’ve ever had—overall rating only F! Average points only 13! Thirteen! What an unlucky number!”

Everyone looked up, searching uncertainly for the source of the voice. Soon, someone spotted a crow jumping with rage on one of the stone pillars to the east.

“Worse every year, truly worse every year! You live so poorly, yet you have the nerve to die! Let me see—car accidents, drowning, hanging… oh dear heavens, there are even two here who slit their wrists for love. Hey, you two are really something.”

A young couple was called out publicly and immediately let go of each other’s hands in fright.

“Mr. Crow is angry and must punish you. I can’t let you just swagger into Evernight City—that would be too unfair to the other players who work hard. Let me think, how should I punish you? Let me think carefully…” The crow paced back and forth on the stone pillar, back and forth, wings folded behind its back, every shake of its head looking comical and ridiculous.

But no one could laugh.

The crow was comical, but the faces of most people present were even more comical than his.

“Got it!” The crow suddenly raised one wing high and announced joyfully, “Let’s play Lucky Wheel!”

As the words fell, a massive wheel with a ten-meter radius appeared out of thin air above the crow. The wheel was divided into seven sectors of different colors and sizes, each containing different content. A ring of colored lights surrounded it, identical to the kind of lucky wheels often seen in arcades.

The broadcast voice rang out again: “Easter egg game triggered—Lucky Wheel. This round of the Lucky Wheel has four spins total. Players will receive punishments or rewards based on the wheel’s results. Survival is hard, luck comes first. The game begins now!”

“Wait, how did it start already?!”

The plaza erupted in chaos. The crow looked down at it all from above—the more chaotic everyone was, the happier he seemed. He flapped his wings, hopping from one stone pillar to another, then to another. With every flap, the wheel spun faster.

The psychedelic colored lights left afterimages, like a multicolored halo wrapping around everyone’s fate.

Chi Yan pressed close to Tang Cuo, carefully tugging at his sleeve. “Bro, Brother Tang, did you see the punishment contents written on that wheel? What do they all mean…”

Tang Cuo didn’t answer.

But Chi Yan couldn’t stop talking. He’d clearly seen the large sectors on the wheel read things like “Misfortune Thirteen,” “Ten Thousand Arrows Piercing the Heart,” and so on—none of which sounded good.

But reality always delivers what you fear most. With a “ding,” the wheel stopped abruptly, and the red pointer was clearly pointing at the sector Chi Yan had seen—Misfortune Thirteen.

“Hee hee!” The crow was overjoyed, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. “I hate 13. 13 is not a good number. I announce that all people with 13 points—you’re dead!”

The next instant, screams erupted everywhere.

One spot, two spots, three spots—pure black holes appeared beneath people’s feet without warning, like giant beasts opening their mouths to swallow people alive. In the blink of an eye, dozens of people had vanished from everyone’s sight.

Many didn’t even see the process of being swallowed—they only saw those dark holes gaping open, bottomless, and then—piercing screams.

There were also those who, in their desperation, managed to grab the edge of the hole. Faces pale as they listened to the screams around them, they struggled to climb up while frantically calling for help: “Save me, hurry, save me! Save me!”

People nearby reacted, some faster, some slower. The bold ones rushed forward to pull them up. But before they could get close, the person began to scream, expression terrified and even distorted.

“Who’s pulling me?! Let go! Help meeee—”

The rescuers froze. The next second, the person seemed to be dragged down by something, their screams rapidly receding until they echoed back.

“Ahhhh!” The timid ones had already started screaming. The demon of fear made them imagine countless cruel and horrifying scenes. Sometimes the unseen is the most terrifying.

Chi Yan felt like he’d fallen into an ice cellar, his whole body rigid, mouth open but unable to speak. Tang Cuo’s expression was grave, brows slightly furrowed, but there was no fear in his gaze—he was staring fixedly at the crow.

The crow was laughing. He started hopping from pillar to pillar again, from one to the next, to the next. Like a mischievous, wicked child, he shook his head as he spoke: “You’re all too cowardly! Cowards can’t survive in Evernight City. How about this—let the great and kind Mr. Crow sing you a song. With a song, you won’t be afraid anymore!”

The wheel continued spinning. In the sea of screams, the song poured down.

“Gods, lambs, and crows,
Play happily together on the cliff.
They sing and dance,
Flowers bloom from the stones.
God says, look—
It’s my flower.
A lamb eats it,
Hurry up and die.
Gods, lambs, and crows,
No more flowers in the world.
One lamb falls off the cliff,
Two lambs fall off the cliff,
Three lambs fall off the cliff,
Four lambs fall off the cliff,
Five lambs fall off the cliff,
Six lambs fall off the cliff,
Seven lambs fall off the cliff,
All dead now,
All dead now.
The crow says,
Disobedient children are all dead!”

The song wasn’t long, but it repeated over and over, never stopping. The cheerful tune combined with the eerie lyrics made souls tremble.

Then came hysteria.

“What kind of hellish place is this?!”

“What do we do? We’re all going to die, going to die!”

“I’m scared…”

“Stop singing!”

“Stop singing already!”

But the song continued.

“…A lamb eats it,
Hurry up and die.
A lamb eats it,
Hurry up and die…”

“Ding!” The wheel finally stopped again, the red pointer pointing at a small blue sector marked -2. The crow looked up, shaking his feathers with considerable regret. “What a pity. All players’ points reduced by two.”

But soon he cheered up again, tilting his head. “No matter, we still have the next round!”

Author’s Note:
“Song of Gods, Lambs, and Crows”
Inspiration source—Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None
Classic horror nursery rhyme elements. If you’re interested, you can also check out Terror Nursery Rhyme and Yet Another Beautiful Disaster from Who’s the Murderer. This novel is tentatively scheduled to update at 8 PM every night.
Happy April Fools’ Day!