Yue Liuyi felt the whole noodle shop drown in moon-silver, and when it faded, a headless hulk crashed down like a felled tree.

Dixue fired just one shot, and the swaggering butcher popped like an overripe gourd.

“So… so strong…” Her voice trembled like a reed in wind.

Ding-dong—out of the tiled floor rose a treasure chest, heavy as a sunken coffer breaking the surface.

But Dixue ignored the gleam, sprinting toward Yue Liuyi like a swift shadow crossing water.

“Little Moon!”

“Don’t worry, I’m okay.” Her words were calm as still lake glass.

“But your blood…” The red ran like spilled threads on porcelain skin.

“This is a virtual world; find a bandage and it’s fine.” Her smile was soft as dawn mist.

“Oh… right!” Dixue helped Yue Liuyi up, scratching her cheek with a sheepish grin like a shy cat. “I thought it was real and panicked.”

“So let thrills stay in games; in reality they bite like winter.” She glanced at her right shoulder and winced like touching cold iron. “Let’s open the chest—there should be tools.”

Victory meant divvying spoils, a harvest after storm; as an elite monster’s chest, its bounty shone brighter than common zombie drops.

There were bullets like neat rows of seeds, medkits like folded white lilies, keys gleaming like brass suns, and several well-made firearms.

Among them, an energy rifle with arcane damage—steady as a metronome and swift as rain—was Yue Liuyi’s favorite.

“LittleSnow, you pick first; you killed the elite.” Her tone was warm as tea steam.

“No need to fuss; I’ll use this one.” Her hand rested on silver like a bird returning home.

“Huh? The starter?”

“Yeah. My hands already remember it, like muscle learning a melody.”

They chose their spoils, tightened gear like lacing boots, and set out again along a corridor of dust and echoes.

Grit sprayed like comet tails, bullet curtains flowed like crimson waterfalls, rooms unfolded like drawers, and traps snapped like hungry jaws.

The two moved in duet: the sniper’s power had gaps like a heartbeat, and Yue Liuyi covered those lulls like a shield of rain.

The energy rifle sang steady fire like a drumline; when high-threat foes surged like dark waves, Dixue cut them down like lightning.

“Little Moon, you’re really capable.” Praise came like a warm breeze.

“So are you, LittleSnow. I’ll count on you.” Her answer was a nod like a bird’s dip.

Step by measured step, like beads on a string, they reached the Celestial Courtyard’s first-floor hall.

A blood-red heart throbbed ahead like a volcano core, and the fog thickened like wet wool pulling at sight and limb.

Yue Liuyi felt her vision dim and feet heavy, a debuff settling like frost over branches.

“Can we fight the final BOSS now?” Her breath was steady as a held bowstring.

Dixue stood ready, silver sniper in hand like a pale moonblade, now bristling with attachments like stars on steel.

“Mm.” Yue Liuyi nodded, a small wave in a calm sea.

“Does it have a weak point?” Curiosity flickered like a firefly.

“Usually it’s tanky as an old tree. Prepare for a long grind.” Her voice drew a line like chalk.

Yue Liuyi lifted her gaze to that distant heart, feelings mixing like rain on ink—this final BOSS was fixed like a carved seal.

Years ago, she fought it too, back on Dreamwood Star, where arcades glowed like lantern streets for bored children.

Dongfang Chen saw that haunted house then, a door of thrills standing in bright noise like a hidden alley.

Even adults couldn’t clear it solo, like a cliff too sheer for one set of hands.

For kids, beating the final BOSS became a sacred task, a banner to carry through summer dust.

Dreamwood Star, on the outer ring, lacked Sky Voyager’s web; no guides fell like rain from screens.

So they carved knowledge from stone, bit by bit—data and weak points like herbs pressed in a notebook, passed around at recess like shared bread.

Together, the little band finally felled the BOSS, laughter ringing like bells over cracked tiles.

(Clearing it before everyone left felt like pouring sunlight into my chest.)

“L-Little Moon…” The call fluttered like a sparrow.

“Hm?” Her answer was a ripple.

Yedie Snow waved a hand before Yue Liuyi’s eyes; the blue-haired girl’s expression was a paradox, a smile like frost and a sorrow like deep water.

“Thanks, LittleSnow… I’m fine. Old memories brushed by like a willow branch.” She shook her head gently, a reed in light wind.

“The final BOSS fears fire; use fire rounds. If the dark wave washes over, run clear fast, like stepping out of tar.”

“Okay. Do we… coordinate like before?” Her eyes brightened like a lantern.

“Mm. I’m counting on you, LittleSnow.” Trust flowed like warm tea.

“Got it. Little Moon, I’ll protect you.” Her promise rang like a polished bell.

They set their plan like stones in a river, and the final battle began like thunder rolling over hills.

The heart had two attack types; first, blood-red barrage, wide as monsoon rain, but shallow as reed scratches.

Bandages and medkits would keep you afloat like small boats in chop.

Second, the dark wave, a vast sweep like a storm-front at ninety degrees; it had no direct bite, but blindness and binds coiled like snakes.

After the wave, the heart contracted hard like a clenched fist, firing a swift dark death beam like a black spear.

A hit meant instant down, the BOSS’s killing stroke like night swallowing a candle.

Back then, Dongfang Chen and his friends died countless times to that combo, trapped at the center like flies in amber.

No clever coordination could save you; control locked tight as iron chains.

At last, Dongfang Chen found the counter—fire, a purging sun.

The heart feared flame, especially at the instant of contraction; fire ammo forced a stagger like a hiccup in machinery.

The death beam still followed, a snake striking, but the window to run opened like a door unlatched.

The bind’s choke loosened, not so mortal, like a rope wet and slipping.

Yue Liuyi and Dixue weren’t ordinary; their reflexes moved like sparks, and rhythm settled into their bones like drumbeats.

Dixue in particular struck the contraction window within one second, fire bullets threading the core like needles into silk.

The fight turned into attrition, a slow tide; neither took mortal danger, like two walkers under steady rain.

(I really hope we can win together!) Her wish fluttered like a prayer flag.

The health dropped like sand from an hourglass; under crisp teamwork, the BOSS neared the brink like a cliff edge.

Vessels snapped like taut strings, the surface charred like burnt bark, and the heart pulsed wild, barrage raging like crimson hail.

“LittleSnow, I’ll pull aggro. When it staggers, shoot the core above—the red dot. Only that clears the stage.” Her words were arrows.

“Huh? But you’ll get hit by the BOSS…” Concern tightened like a fist.

“It has to be this way… That’s why one person can’t clear.” Resolve shone like flint.

“No, I won’t let Little Moon get hurt, even if it’s virtual.” Her refusal stood like a gate.

Dixue pouted, then fixed on the core like a hawk sighting prey—it was tennis-ball small, drifting with erratic pulses like a red firefly.

Aiming was hard, the wobble unruly as a drunken leaf, but Yedie Snow’s certainty burned like a candle in wind.

She rose, leveled the silver sniper like a straight horizon, and pulled the trigger.

The bullet traced a fire-red line like a comet, struck the core, and light surged from within like dawn breaking stone.

Rotten skin tore like old paper, flakes peeling away like charcoal scales; black fog thinned like smoke in rain.

Blood energy shrank like a tide retreating, and the ground shuddered like an awakening beast.

“Huh?” Yue Liuyi froze, her mind resetting like a clock; Dixue felt like she had toggled god-mode.

“Not good, it’s collapsing!” Panic flashed like lightning.

Dixue scooped Yue Liuyi up, sprinting a hundred meters like a storm-wind.

“Um, LittleSnow… where are you going…?” The scenery streaked backward like painted silk pulled fast.

“Running. This place is crashing. It’s dangerous.” Her voice cut clean as ice.

“Mm, no need—just a cutscene… You won’t get hurt. It ends and we’re fine.” Calm settled like settling ash.

The Celestial Courtyard’s ceiling caved like brittle slate; black fog dissolved, and a night sky bloomed like jeweled velvet.

Stars glinted like gemstones sewn on satin, healing light pouring over a ruin once soaked in blood, like rain blessing dry fields.

A diamond-inlaid azure chest appeared where the heart’s remains had been, quiet as a bird landing.

“So pretty…” Dixue’s feet slowed like the end of a dance.

“This is the final reward for clearing.” Hope warmed like a hearth.

“Huh?”

Dixue set Yue Liuyi down; together they walked to the chest like pilgrims to a shrine.

“Let’s open it.” Her smile curved like a moon.

“Mm!”

“Three, two, one!” Their voices braided like twin strings.

They pushed gently; the chest opened with soft glow like dawn behind curtains, revealing a plain silver pistol like a river pebble.

Compared to earlier gear, it looked modest, no ornate shine, no tuned lines, just quiet metal like a simple ring.

Yet Yue Liuyi stared, stunned, as if struck by a bell in a temple.

(This… it’s a physical reward!) The thought blazed like a lantern.

Every Horror House simulator hid a silver pistol in its frame, locked like treasure behind rules, revealed only under specific conditions.

No-damage BOSS clear—the dream trophy Dongfang Chen and his friends chased like kites, but never caught, the wind too strict.

(We could celebrate… but everyone’s gone…) The ache spread like winter in a room.

Yue Liuyi stood blankly, wanting to cheer with old companions like clinking cups, but those who knew its worth were gone like ships over the horizon.

Dixue was a first-time player, likely unaware; the thought drifted like light smoke.

“Is it a physical reward? Must be precious! That’s great, Little Moon.” Her joy sparkled like water in sun.

“Huh? LittleSnow, how did you know?” Surprise lifted like a startled bird.

“I saw your face and understood. Let this keepsake be yours.” Her kindness fell like petals.

“Then… Dixue doesn’t want it?” The question hung like a soft bell.

“Nope. I already got my most precious treasure.” Her grin curved like a crescent.

“Eh? Where? There’s only this keepsake in the chest…” Her gaze searched like a fisher scanning water.

Yue Liuyi peered again, finding no second prize, only empty glow like quiet moonlight.

“Hehe, it’s right in front of me.” Her voice danced like a breeze.

Watching Yue Liuyi still search, Yedie Snow stepped in and hugged her, arms closing like soft wings around a quiet heart.