The Sunlit Resort's structure was simple, divided by a narrow river more than three meters wide that meandered at the foot of the mountain.
Houses lined both banks in even distribution, and in front of each home, strings of dried mushrooms and other sun-dried staples swayed gently in the breeze.
Over 200 villagers lived in the settlement, occupying more than forty houses.
A single stroll along the river was enough to see the entire village. There were no winding alleys or labyrinthine streets to navigate.
The houses were built from locally sourced materials—wood, thatch, and stone.
Perhaps to guard against dampness or ward off venomous creatures, every dwelling stood on wooden stilts, elevating it more than two meters above the ground.
This architectural style wasn't uncommon in reality, where similar villages were often nestled within bamboo groves rather than dense forests.
Ordinarily, the raised spaces beneath such homes served as shelter for livestock.
It wasn't unusual for a groggy resident to descend the stairs in the morning only to find a pig or sheep curled up on the steps in slumber.
But in Sunlit Village, no animals occupied these spaces. Instead, the villagers had transformed them into farmland, cultivating something with deliberate care.
Yet, as the crops had yet to sprout, their nature remained a mystery.
Tan Huihui pursed her lips in disdain. "It's pitch black under the house—what could possibly grow there? Moss?"
Whenever Tan Huihui spoke, her number-one simp, Yang Ye, usually chimed in eagerly. But this time, he stayed uncharacteristically silent, trailing behind the group, as docile as a capybara.
Without her usual echo, Tan Huihui quickly lost momentum and fell silent as well.
Zuo Chengan had a good idea why Yang Ye had suddenly quieted down. He had seen something that had shaken him to the core.
While rifling through the torn clothing of his fallen comrade, Wang Cheng, he had spotted, peeking through the tattered fabric at the man's chest, a pulsating red sac.
The same kind that dangled from the throats of the mountain monkeys.
Smaller, yes—small enough to stay hidden beneath clothing.
To Yang Ye, this wasn't just an unsettling biological anomaly. It was a clue, one that could lead to a hidden side quest within the instance.
The dungeon's primary objective was survival.
Players weren't explicitly required to investigate its secrets.
Yet anomalies like this, the unexplained existence of those red sacs, practically begged for further exploration.
And what did that imply? That the anomaly itself was the key to unlocking a hidden mission.
If he could unravel this mystery, an S-rank rating would be within reach.
Factor in the hidden bonus from a newly discovered instance, and an S+ rating was almost guaranteed.
S-rank clearances were rare, typically reserved for leaders of major guilds—the core strategists of their teams.
As they walked, Yang Ye found himself lost in daydreams, envisioning his rise through the ranks, adoring beauties flocking to his side, and even Tan Huihui, who always looked down on him, serving at his beck and call.
He snapped out of it, forcing himself to focus on how to trigger the hidden quest.
Piecing together intel from fellow guild members who had previously fled the dungeon, he recalled something peculiar. After a certain period inside, players developed red spots on their bodies.
Those spots would gradually swell, transforming into translucent sacs, like blisters, but far more elastic and resistant to rupture.
Back in the Safe Zone, the descriptions of these symptoms had seemed vague and unremarkable.
But now, seeing the phenomenon firsthand, everything clicked into place.
The real kicker? Most players knew about the red sacs, but they didn’t realize the villagers had them too. And if they did, they hadn't connected the dots.
Yang Ye felt like he was standing on the precipice of a grand discovery.
At this moment, he was the only one chasing this hidden quest.
This was his golden ticket, the turning point of his life.
What he failed to realize was that uncovering a clue was only the first step. He would have to trigger the quest, complete it, and survive until the end. Otherwise, his ambitions would remain mere illusions.
…
Meanwhile, Zuo Chengan knew far more than Yang Ye.
Not just Wang Cheng, but every villager bore red spots or sacs on their chests, concealed beneath their garments.
Some villagers had even advanced to the next stage, where tiny fleshy buds sprouted from their sacs, like seeds taking root and growing.
The dungeon's audience—watching through live-streamed eyeball camera feeds—had already documented the progression of these growths across multiple failed attempts by previous players.
They had coined names for each stage:
The appearance of red spots was the Sowing Phase.
The transformation into sacs, the Latent Phase.
The emergence of sprouts, the Germination Phase.
After germination, the sprouts would elongate and eventually bud, entering the Budding Phase.
But what happened next remained unknown. No player had survived long enough to witness the flowers bloom.
Yang Ye remained blissfully unaware, still savoring his small discovery. In reality, he was far from the truth. Even Zuo Chengan, who had deciphered most of the sacs' developmental stages, had yet to trigger the hidden quest—let alone Yang Ye, who had uncovered only scattered clues.
…
Meanwhile, in the Sunlit Resort live-streaming channel, the audience was divided.
Some were veterans who had seen players challenge this dungeon multiple times.
But the majority were newcomers, wide-eyed and eager, spamming the chat with endless questions while using their camera's object-piercing function to satisfy their curiosity.
Most of the time, Zuo Chengan only needed to monitor their chatter. Helpful veteran viewers were always ready to provide explanations.
For instance, when someone asked why former players appeared among the villagers, a swift reply followed: [Old game tradition. If a dead player's body is still intact, the system repurposes them as NPCs.]
Many viewers enjoyed watching the reunions of friends and lovers.
Of course, not all questions had answers. Some mysteries, such as why the sacs varied in size, where the mountain monkeys originated, or how many times a child could suck on an eyeball in a day, remained unsolved.
Unless a player completed the instance or uncovered hidden storylines, certain truths would stay buried.
Some viewers were passionate about unraveling these secrets, deliberately seeking out dungeons no one had yet conquered.
Others preferred pre-solved content, sticking to instances with full guides and mapped-out side quests.
Clearly, the majority of Sunlit Resort's audience belonged to the former category. Their thirst for exploration was insatiable, as if they were all aspiring detectives eager to unravel the village's mysteries in an instant.
The latter group, finding the stream riddled with annoying puzzles, had long since fled to livestreams where "killing is an art."
Zuo Chengan hadn't seen such pleasant comments in a long time.
A glance at the chat revealed viewers fervently theorizing about the village's anomalies, with few obscene or deranged remarks in sight.
Some only tuned into dungeon streams to ogle female players' chests and buttocks, mocking others' mistakes from their omniscient perspective.
But without a complete guide for this dungeon, their attempts to show off often backfired, leaving them humiliated.
Naturally, no one wanted to linger in a new dungeon just to embarrass themselves.
This inadvertently filtered the audience, weeding out a significant portion of the scum. It was an added benefit to tackling unconquered dungeons beyond the higher rewards.
Because of this, Zuo Chengan resolved to take on more new dungeons in the future.
Not for any grand reason—just for the sake of his own sanity. After all, prolonged exposure to garbage comments could contaminate him, too. Then again, he hadn’t been particularly pure to begin with.
…
Soon, the village chief led the players through the entire village.
Just as they thought he was leading them into the forest, he stopped in front of a wooden house. It was identical to the others, built on a raised wooden frame with farmland stretching beneath it, laid out like the rest of the village.
Yet this did nothing to ease the players' nerves.
Then the village chief spoke, and their hearts clenched.