Hu Xiao’s home internet was very fast, and the game downloaded quickly.
As a professional content creator, Hu Xiao’s branded desktop computer had decent specifications—after all, he needed to edit videos regularly and had some gaming requirements.
He didn’t have a controller, but this game could also be played with a keyboard and mouse.
Being a person who appreciated rituals, Hu Xiao got up to brew a cup of tea, leisurely took a couple of sips, and then launched the game.
He wasn’t quite clear what kind of game this was.
Judging from the name, it should be a game full of Buddhist philosophy, right?
Moreover, it was a game with Chinese cultural themes. From the few promotional images provided by the officials, it seemed to be about reincarnation, rebirth, and deliverance.
Hmm, so it should be full of Zen meaning, right?
Since it was a game full of Zen meaning, shouldn’t he approach it with a calm mind and experience it sincerely?
Hu Xiao found that he had developed a bit of anticipation for this game.
After the black screen, there was first a melodious tune.
This melody was graceful and flowing, yet had a unique melancholic atmosphere, performed entirely with traditional Chinese instruments.
An elderly female voice slowly chanted in a hoarse and lingering tone.
“Lives intersect but never meet, worldly cycles conceal in blood.”
“Seeing flowers bloom but not leaves, two souls hard to join on the Yellow Springs road.”
“The path is long over the Sanzu River, at Naihe Bridge, hearts break entirely.”
“One bowl of tea soup ends previous fate, one foot of clear water moistens the shallow beach.”
Her voice was melodious and prolonged, yet it made people feel a bone-chilling sorrow, as if ghosts were summoning souls.
These lines sounded like poetry verses or folk songs, making one shiver.
The scene appeared—crimson maple leaves falling into a stream, carried away by the current, followed by a trail of fresh blood flowing down the stream, quickly diluted.
The camera moved upward, and a withered hand splashed onto the water surface with a “pat” sound, creating a few ripples, and then remained motionless.
The camera continued to move up along this withered hand, revealing the tattered clothes on the corpse, its horrific wounds, and wide-open eyes.
Though already dead, the wide-open eyes still sent chills down one’s spine.
In these eyes, there seemed to be fear, despair, struggle, and a bit of unwillingness.
The camera continued upward, showing several gaunt, emaciated ankles walking past the lens. A wild dog, its fur completely withered and as thin as a skeleton, with dark red saliva dripping from its mouth, stared with blood-red eyes, looked at the camera, and then left, continuing to search for its next target.
It appeared that these people had completely lost their sanity, becoming mindless killers.
The elderly, hoarse voice sounded again.
“Humans have three hun souls and seven po souls.”
“Those whose natural lifespan has ended are guided by the Black and White Impermanence, stepping onto the Yellow Springs Road, heading to the Underworld to receive judgment from King Yama.”
“Some are reincarnated, some enter the six paths of reincarnation, some enter the Avici Hell.”
The corpse by the small stream suddenly twitched.
The camera didn’t linger on it for long but continued to move, sweeping over the small stream at the edge of the village and the wasteland, stopping at this small village hidden deep in the mountains.
“Until one day, the Black and White Impermanence no longer guided those about to die.”
“Souls wandered in the mortal world, unable to be guided, becoming lonely ghosts wandering on the Yellow Springs Road.”
“Unable to live, unable to die.”
“Over time, these wandering ghosts became increasingly fierce, losing their humanity and memories.”
“The human world became hell.”
The scene changed, showing several innocent people being slaughtered by villagers with pitchforks and machetes, letting out desperate wails.
In a dilapidated temple on the outskirts of a city, a dim golden Buddha light formed a barrier, separating the wandering souls trying to rush into the temple.
Inside the temple, an old monk sat cross-legged on a meditation cushion, facing a wobbling Buddha statue, reciting scriptures over and over.
Not far away, a scholar ran out of an already burning house, stumbling and running wildly, hair disheveled, looking insane.
He shouted and laughed, his voice unclear.
“The wheel of the fire house, immersed in the sea of suffering.”
“Long night of fixation, never able to change.”
“No path to the Spirit Mountain, hands joined in emptiness;”
“The Yellow Springs Road is long, turn back is the shore.”
“Turn back is the shore? Hahahahaha…”
Amidst the scholar’s maniacal laughter, the screen gradually faded to black.
Then, the laughter stopped abruptly.
The elderly voice sounded one last time: “Wandering ghosts roam the mortal world; the six paths collapse, the gates of the underworld open…”
After a somewhat longer black screen.
“Dong!”
“Dong!”
Two dull thuds, a beam of light penetrated the black screen.
This was from the first-person perspective of someone who had been buried.
Soon, the camera switched to outside the grave.
This was a desolate mass grave, broken tombstones lying crooked on the ground or buried in the yellow, withered grass.
There were many open coffins in the mass grave. These coffins were all very low-quality, thin wooden coffins, already broken beyond recognition.
Some coffins contained incomplete skeletons, perhaps gnawed by hungry beasts, while others were empty, containing only soil washed in by rainwater.
A large number of corpses were casually discarded in the mass grave, most with missing limbs or severed heads.
The extremely thin coffin lid was smashed with two holes, and a withered but still somewhat muscular hand emerged from the hole, pushing the coffin lid aside with great effort.
A pale-faced, dead person sat up in the grave.
…
Hu Xiao looked at the tea in his hand, then at this rather unfriendly intro CG, feeling that his expectations might have been slightly off.
This wasn’t a Buddhist philosophy game at all!
There was a big problem!
Hu Xiao was somewhat tempted to give up—after all, he had just downloaded the game and could refund it anytime.
But on second thought, he decided to play a bit more. What if the game was good?
“Hmm? You can even write your epitaph?”
“What a bizarre step, skip it.”
Hu Xiao instinctively wanted to skip it, but found that he couldn’t—he had to input some information to continue.
He originally wanted to input three periods, but felt it might be inappropriate, so he decided to input two Chinese characters instead.
Hu Xiao thought for a moment and casually typed: “Hehe” (嘿嘿).
He didn’t think much about it, just choosing the first interjection that came to mind.
After selecting, the game officially began.
Hu Xiao controlled the game character, heading straight toward the small monsters ahead.
Three seconds later.
The game character let out a scream and fell to the ground. The screen turned gray, prominently displaying two Chinese characters: “Hehe” (嘿嘿).
Hu Xiao: “???”
He was a bit confused about what had just happened.
I had such a long health bar just now?
How did my health bar completely disappear after just being touched twice by the small monsters?
Is there a bug in this game?
Hu Xiao, unwilling to accept defeat, respawned and once again climbed up from the mass grave, charging toward the monsters in front.
“Hehe.”
“Hehe.”
“Hehe.”
Hu Xiao fell into a daze. After a few minutes of stupefaction, he pushed the keyboard and mouse forward, leaned back in his chair, and sank into thought.
What was going on?
Why was my character as fragile as paper, gone with just a touch?
Could it be that I’m not approaching the game correctly?
Or is there something wrong with how I’m playing?
With confusion, Hu Xiao opened the water army chat group, wanting to ask about others’ experiences.
However, the others in the group were just as confused as Hu Xiao.
“Has anyone finished downloading ‘Return to Shore’? My computer specs are too low, it’s very laggy, and then I lagged for a moment and died.”
“My computer is also laggy, and I also died inexplicably.”
“This game’s requirements are high. My computer can’t handle it either, it’s like a slideshow.”
“Hehe, my computer can handle it. To be honest, you’re not dying because your computers are laggy…”
“Damn, what kind of stupid game is this? The first monster can one-shot you?”
“How are you supposed to play this?”
“I don’t know, anyway, I’ve already refunded it. The boss didn’t specify whether to give a good or bad review, right? I’ve decided to directly give a one-star negative review!”
“Is it necessary to give one star? Aren’t you going to give it a second chance?”
“My laptop can’t handle this game, I’m planning to find an internet café later.”
“This boss is quite generous. Isn’t it a bit irresponsible to directly post negative reviews just because of this? After all, he didn’t say to post negative reviews, just to evaluate based on first impressions.”
“Yes, and my first impression is that this game is terrible.”
“But it could also be because of your computer’s issues, right?”
The group had started arguing.
Hu Xiao scratched his head, feeling a bit dizzy.
This was the first time he had seen everyone in the water army group discussing something so seriously…
Previously, the group was like a well-trained army. Someone would give an order—like a comment to like or share, or to collectively attack a certain account, or to quickly unify their talking points—and everyone would obey promptly and react quickly.
However, today, the group seemed to have turned into a marketplace, with everyone expressing their own opinions.
One group of people had played the game briefly and wanted to give negative reviews.
Others felt that they owed it to such a generous client, believing they should try harder to play the game and not be so irresponsible.
Watching everyone arguing, Hu Xiao was also confused.
What to do when facing a water army civil war? Waiting online, quite urgent!