Ch 66: My Multiverse Supermarket

“Village head, could you make a broadcast for me—ask everyone if they’ve seen my grandson? He still hasn’t come back.”

Late at night, village chief Zhang Shi received a phone call from villager Wang Yaoquan.

Dragged out of sleep, Zhang Shi was irritated. “Isn’t making an announcement in the middle of the night just disturbing everyone?”

On the other end, Wang Yaoquan and his wife, Zhang Gucui, sounded anxious. “But Wang Hui still hasn’t come home.”

“Maybe he went to the arcade and lost track of time?” Zhang Shi guessed.

“Wang Hui never goes to the arcade, and we can’t reach him by phone.”

Zhang Shi wasn’t too concerned.

A thirteen- or fourteen-year-old boy, in the middle of his rebellious years, an orphan at that—sensitive, defiant—wasn’t it normal for him to stay out late sometimes?

Most of the village kids didn’t have their parents around. The grandparents doted on them, too lenient to discipline.

So they’d skip class, or after school they’d wander off to catch shrimp, play basketball, or race motorbikes through the dark.

The ones with pocket money would hit the arcade, or gather at a friend’s house to “do homework” while actually watching videos together.

Take Zhang Run’s son, Zhang Pu, for instance—Zhang Run had caught him sneaking around more than once, beaten him each time, and the boy still hadn’t learned his lesson.

Of course, Zhang Shi couldn’t say any of that aloud. He only said, “I’ll ask around in the village chat group.”

“I already did.”

Zhang Shi opened the group chat. Sure enough, Wang Yaoquan had posted, but there were hardly any useful replies.

Since the village was in the middle of competing for the “Five Beauties Village” title, Zhang Shi decided to get up anyway and accompany Wang Yaoquan to Zhang Run’s house to look for Zhang Pu.

Zhang Pu was doing homework. When they called him out, he looked confused.

“Zhang Pu,” Wang Yaoquan asked, “have you seen Wang Hui?”

“No.”

Zhang Shi asked, “Aren’t you boys always together? It’s the weekend—didn’t you play today?”

“I was with Zhang Ben and Wu Teng,” Zhang Pu said. “Didn’t see Wang Hui.”

Getting nothing from him, Zhang Shi and Wang Yaoquan went to visit Zhang Ben and Wu Teng’s homes.

Both said they hadn’t seen Wang Hui either.

Meanwhile, Wang Hui’s grandmother, Zhang Gucui, had gone door to door asking as well. The roads were dark, the streetlights off, and she even tripped and fell.

When she met back up with Wang Yaoquan, she said, “Maybe we should call the police.”

But if the police got involved, that would make things serious.

Zhang Shi stopped her. “He’s only been missing a few hours. The police won’t take a case until it’s been twenty-four.”

“So what should we do?” Zhang Gucui asked.

Zhang Shi thought for a bit. “I’ll check the surveillance cameras—see where he went.”

The village didn’t have public cameras, only a few installed by residents outside their gates.

He woke several households and checked them one by one.

By the second half of the night, he finally found footage showing four boys—Zhang Pu, Wang Hui, Zhang Ben, and Wu Teng—riding an electric bike together.

That was during the time when most villagers had been at a meeting in the committee hall.

No wonder no one had seen them playing together.

But instead of feeling relieved, Zhang Shi felt a heavy sense of dread.

Zhang Pu, Zhang Ben, and Wu Teng had clearly seen Wang Hui—had even been with him—so why did they all deny it?

If one boy lied, it could mean he was scared of trouble. But if all three denied it, it could only mean they were hiding something serious.

Zhang Shi suddenly felt thankful that he and Wang Yaoquan had split up—he was the only one who’d seen the footage.

“How’s it looking?” yawned the homeowner whose cameras he’d borrowed.

Zhang Shi quickly exited playback and handed the phone back. “Hours of video and nothing useful. My eyes are going blurry.”

The man didn’t think much of it, pocketed his phone, and saw him out.

Zhang Shi went to meet Wang Yaoquan again. “Any luck?”

“No,” Wang Yaoquan said.

Zhang Gucui added, “Maybe we should ask Zhang Pu and the others again. Hui always plays with them. There’s no reason they’d go off without him.”

“It’s too late now,” Zhang Shi said. “Let’s wait till morning.”

Their commotion had already annoyed the villagers.

There were over two hundred households in the village—not all kin. With modern changes, widening wealth gaps, and old land disputes, neighborly warmth had long faded.

In the old days, if a child went missing, the whole village would search.

Now, not only did no one help, they complained about being disturbed at night.

Knowing this, Zhang Gucui and Wang Yaoquan didn’t insist on continuing the search.

The next morning, Wang Hui still hadn’t returned home.

By daylight, the same villagers who’d been indifferent at night suddenly became lively in the chat group, sending voice messages full of speculation:

Some said maybe traffickers had taken him and they should put up posters. Others guessed he’d gone back to school and told them to call his teachers. Some even suggested checking the river—maybe he’d gone swimming.

After a sleepless night, Wang Yaoquan and Zhang Gucui were exhausted. Hearing all this sent them into a panic.

Zhang Shi snapped, “Stop scaring people! If you want to help, go look—don’t stir up fear online!”

In the end, they really did find Wang Hui’s body in the river.

The police arrived.

After investigation, the supposed accident was ruled a homicide.

The truth came out:

Zhang Pu, Zhang Ben, and Wu Teng had been bullying Wang Hui for a long time. They’d extorted his lunch money at school, and when back in the village, they’d order him around like a servant.

Wang Hui had no parents. His grandparents were old—unable to protect him, unwilling to listen to his troubles. So he’d kept everything bottled up.

He did have an aunt, but she was married out of province and only visited during holidays to check on her elderly parents. To him, she wasn’t someone he could turn to.

So, no one in Dawn Village knew what Wang Hui was going through.

Maybe some kids knew, but when they told their parents, the adults brushed it off—just warned their own children not to hang out with those boys.

That only made Zhang Pu and his gang bolder.

On Saturday morning, Zhang Pu called Wang Hui out again.

He told Wang Hui to get money from home—he needed to buy cigarettes.

Wang Hui said he’d already asked too often, and his grandparents were starting to notice.

“Tomorrow’s Monday,” Zhang Pu said. “Your folks will give you lunch money anyway.”

“That’s my food money,” Wang Hui said. “If I give it to you, I’ll have nothing to eat.”

“Then ask your aunt.”

“No.”

Zhang Pu had always been proud and domineering. Seeing Wang Hui refuse to obey, he ordered Zhang Ben and Wu Teng to beat him up.

He snatched Wang Hui’s phone and transferred out all the money.

When Wang Hui resisted, Zhang Pu grabbed a brick from the corner of the greenhouse and smashed it against Wang Hui’s head.

Blood gushed out; Wang Hui collapsed unconscious.

Zhang Ben and Wu Teng were terrified and wanted to run for help, but Zhang Pu barked, “If anyone finds out, the adults will skin us alive.”

Panic and cruelty overtook him. He ran home, fetched a shovel and a hoe, and ordered them to dig a hole to bury Wang Hui.

When Wang Hui stirred halfway through, Zhang Pu, afraid he’d scream for help, struck him again and again with the shovel—until his face was unrecognizable, until he stopped breathing.

The three buried him, tossed the phone into a filthy drainage ditch, and washed their hands clean.

Zhang Pu told them coldly, “You never saw Wang Hui today. Understand?”

Their hands were already stained with blood. If they wanted to live, they had no choice but to obey.

When they got home, villagers asked why they were so dirty. They said they’d been playing a “tunnel warfare” game.

In the countryside, kids often came home filthy from rough play, so no one suspected anything.

If the police hadn’t noticed inconsistencies during questioning—and pried open Zhang Ben and Wu Teng’s mouths—they might have hidden the truth forever.

*

“How could a dungeon this simple terrify S-rank players?”

Public Hall.

After the announcement that the S-rank dungeon [Dawn Village] had been cleared, the place buzzed with excitement.

But once players saw the leaked walkthrough, confusion spread.

The case seemed straightforward; how could so many A- and S-rank players have failed it?

“Simple? Hah.” The person selling the walkthrough sneered. “You think killing the S-rank ghost Wang Hui means you’ve cleared it?”

“Isn’t it? You kill the final boss, you clear the dungeon—that’s how the game works!”

“And who told you Wang Hui was the final boss?”

The players froze. “He’s the strongest monster in the dungeon—if not him, then who?”

“You’ve never played an MMO before? Some dungeons have a dozen bosses, and the hardest one isn’t always the last. And think about it—why is it called Dawn Village?”

“So…the real problem lies in the village itself?”

*

The case of Wang Hui’s death was gruesome. Because it involved minors, the authorities forbade any public discussion, online posts, or media interviews about it.

But in the age of social media, countless content creators swarmed in to chase the story.

The villagers, harassed and fed up, begged the village committee to drive them off so they could have peace again.

Zhang Shi, the village head, was furious.

He’d heard that Dawn Village had originally been selected as a “Five Beauties Village,” but the title had been revoked because of this incident.

Without the title came the loss of government subsidies.

And as village head, Zhang Shi bore responsibility for the tragedy that happened under his watch.

As he scrambled to handle the aftermath, one night on the village road, he was suddenly attacked from behind—by Wang Yaoquan.

Wang Yaoquan had found out by accident that Zhang Shi had already seen the surveillance footage showing Wang Hui leaving with Zhang Pu and the others.

But Zhang Shi had said nothing—and had even tried to cover it up.

Zhang Pu had confessed: they’d buried Wang Hui’s body in the vegetable greenhouse.

Then Zhang Shi had come to their house, saying he’d seen footage of them together that morning.

Panicked, Zhang Pu made up a story about splitting up after shopping at the supermarket.

Zhang Shi didn’t press further and asked casually if they’d been swimming in the river.

Zhang Pu said no.

Zhang Shi left, but Zhang Run—Zhang Pu’s father—grew suspicious and forced the truth out of him.

Zhang Run was horrified by his son’s cruelty but also knew that if word got out, their family would be ruined.

So before anyone discovered the greenhouse, he and Zhang Pu moved the body to the river under cover of night to make it look like an accidental drowning.

But of course, the police saw through it.

Zhang Pu, his father, Zhang Ben, and Wu Teng were all arrested.

If not for the neighbor who casually mentioned, “The village head also looked at the footage that night, but he said it was too long and he was too sleepy, so he probably didn’t see that part,”

Wang Yaoquan might have kept believing Zhang Shi was innocent.

But he didn’t believe it. He couldn’t understand why Zhang Shi would hide the truth.

At first, Zhang Shi denied it all—until Wang Yaoquan, crazed with grief, tried to drag him down with him. Then Zhang Shi finally confessed.

From the moment he realized Wang Hui had likely been killed, Zhang Shi had been scheming to downplay the incident.

People die every day, he’d thought. Some deaths make no noise at all.

A drowning sounds quieter than a murder—it wouldn’t make the news.

So he’d hinted to Zhang Pu what to do.

But he’d underestimated the police.

It’s easy enough to tell a drowning from a killing.

Still, since he’d pretended ignorance, Zhang Run and his son never suspected he’d guided them, so they never named him.

When Wang Yaoquan found out, rage and despair consumed him. He confronted Zhang Shi, and the two struggled for the hatchet—until Zhang Shi slashed an artery.

Wang Yaoquan died, and Zhang Shi, wounded and bleeding out, collapsed on the road.

When they were found, both bodies were long cold.

*

Public Hall.

Chen Jiaoyan asked, “So…the key figures in this dungeon were Zhang Shi, Wang Hui, and Wang Yaoquan?”

An Fengxuan looked up from her comm device and said slowly, “Not Wang Yaoquan. Zhang Gucui.”

“His grandmother? How could it be her?”

“The pain of the dead,” An Fengxuan said quietly, “is left for the living to bear.”

Most players had focused on the S-rank ghost Wang Hui, ignoring countless clues.

Some noticed the village head’s odd behavior, but no one imagined that the seemingly dutiful Zhang Shi carried such a heavy sin.

Nor had anyone paid attention to the old woman who, every night, sat at her doorway waiting for her grandson to come home.

【Author’s Note】
Note: The events of Dawn Village are fictional and not based on any real incidents.

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