[Every urban legend you know is a scenario I've already played through.]
My name is Lu Jian. I was a web novelist who worked himself to death, and when I opened my eyes again, I had become a cannon-fodder NPC in an eerie world.
Here, a red-clad schoolgirl comes to claim your life, a midnight elevator leads to the underworld, and water ghosts seek substitutes... Every scenario is an inescapable death trap.
But no one knows that these lethal rules and strange tales all came from my failed web novel, A Thousand Ways to Die.
As everyone struggles to survive the horror, I pull out my “script.”
The red-clad schoolgirl? Chapter three. She's afraid of the yellow hard hats worn by construction workers.
The endless elevator? A loophole from story seven. Press the door-open button three times and you can glitch it.
Thanks to my foresight into the “script,” I go from an NPC doomed to die to the “mastermind” in the players' eyes.
Until the world's Supreme God descends and pulls me into the ultimate dungeon.
What it shows is something I never wrote, something that exists only in the deepest part of my memory: the scene of my own death.
Only then do I understand:
What I wrote was never a story.
It was...my own fate.
