Chapter 17: Little Peter

Page 1/3

The wearer is afflicted with a constant undead plague—an ominous description that needs no further contemplation to recognize its peril. Recalling the state he was in when previously infected by the undead toxin, Xiao Yang decisively abandoned any thought of trying on these undead flesh boots. It would be better to trade away these ominous boots in the next multiverse exchange. Though he himself could not wear them, they might still be worth some spirit coins.

Putting away the zombie flesh boots, Xiao Yang gently patted Little Bone’s head. “Little Bone, you’re amazing!” His praise made the little creature lightly rise onto its toes. Next, Xiao Yang wanted to see what exactly was drawing these prisoner zombies to gather here.

An iron door appeared before him. Approaching it, Xiao Yang tried to push, but the door did not budge. Standing on tiptoe, he peered through a small window in the door to glimpse inside. Beyond was seemingly a break room: several empty iron beds, a table with a burnt-out candleholder, an iron chest, and in the corner, a prison guard slumped against the wall clutching his stomach.

This guard was probably the reason these prisoner zombies congregated here—there was at least one living person. Xiao Yang called out to the slumped guard but received no response, only the steady sound of heavy breathing.

He was stuck—unable to open the door, and the possibly still-living man inside gave no reply. Retracting his gaze, Xiao Yang contemplated. This godlike game was not purely a game, yet it incorporated many game elements. To open the iron door, a key was needed. This room appeared to be a guard’s rest area—so where might the key be?

Surveying the corridor’s corner, Xiao Yang spotted a prisoner zombie whose skull he had split open earlier—or more accurately, a zombified guard. Blood-stained clothes identified him as the same kind as the slumped figure inside. Ignoring the grime, Xiao Yang searched the corpse and found in the chest pocket a slimy key and half of an unknown map.

Grasping the key, he inserted it into the lock. With a click, the iron door swung open.

Page 2/3

The room was dimly lit. Xiao Yang placed the lantern hanging from his waist on a nearby long table. He remained vigilant, tightly gripping his short wilderness axe and scanning the room with watchful eyes.

He had set down the dark-dispelling lantern to better judge if any threats lurked inside. If none appeared, the lantern’s light would grow brighter—a sign of its restorative mode.

As time passed, Xiao Yang noticed the lantern’s glow intensify. Good—no immediate danger. Of course, this did not guarantee absolute safety; adversaries might be hiding or lying in wait. Yet, the brightening light brought some comfort.

Xiao Yang focused his attention on the long table, where the melted candle wax surrounded an opened black notebook. He refrained from rashly approaching the possibly living prison guard.

Something was very wrong here. Judging from the decay on the prisoner zombies’ bodies, these creatures had been dead for some time, implying a significant amount of time had passed since the cataclysm that turned this place so perilous.

Amid this, the presence of an injured yet living guard, immune to Xiao Yang’s divination, was abnormal. It wasn’t that nothing could be detected—it was that this figure could not be targeted for probing at all. Extremely irregular.

His gaze fell on the open black notebook—a diary belonging to a newly recruited guard named Peter.

March 21st:
Today I began my first night patrol. But for some reason, the prison’s night feels especially cold. I miss my mother so much—I wonder how she’s doing.

April 13th:
Warden Valentin was furious today. Apparently, a rat in the sewers stole something important from him. He issued a bounty for the rats. He should have done this long ago. Every day I hear those rats gnawing in this prison.

June 5th:
Mom sent me a bag of black bread today. I’m so happy. The food in Blackstone Prison is decent, but I always miss the special sour taste of the black bread from Windmill Town.

June 6th:
Page 3/3

Warden Valentin ordered us to haul the prisoners’ bodies to the incinerator. We’ve been doing this for half a month now. The entire Blackstone Prison reeks of burning flesh. Rumors are circulating about the dead rising again.

No! These aren’t just rumors—the dead truly have risen. Damn it, why is this happening? More and more people are turning into those monsters... Those prisoners! They have all become monsters. I can’t let them out. I can’t let them out—if they escape, it’s all over!

Many entries in the diary were badly stained by melted red wax, making them illegible. Only a few pages remained somewhat clear, but these few provided Xiao Yang with valuable information.

He finally understood why the prisoner zombies clustered here—someone still hoped to do something amid the great crisis.

Xiao Yang was unsure whether the information from this skeletal dungeon was real or entirely fabricated.

Approaching the slumped figure in the corner—the prison guard barely moving and seeming near death—he recognized the young man’s face. From the nameplate on the chest, Xiao Yang had known his identity since entering.

From his backpack, he took out a bag of hardened black bread and placed it before the figure.

“Peter, eat some black bread. Your mother brought it for you.”

At these words, the figure against the wall stirred, slowly lifting his pale, bloodless face. Yet his eyes suddenly sparkled with life.

He reached out, grabbed a piece of black bread, and murmured repeatedly, “Mother!”

At this moment, Xiao Yang’s divination finally worked on Peter. Casting the probing spell, he received one name:

“Lingering Obsession.”