Chapter 48: Flesh Eating |
Su Po's story came to an end.
At last, Qi Si understood. The prerequisite—"know the truth and you can escape the ghosts' attacks"—was nothing more than a play on words.
The so-called truth, the core rule, was that the villagers could not kill for meat themselves. Under this constraint, as long as there was enough "divine meat" to stave off hunger, the other game mechanics could only inflict limited, non-lethal harm.
The players, ignorant of this fact, were guided by the instance's plot and clues. Driven by fear and ingrained habits, they either made promises to the ghosts or secretly harmed one another.
Without having promised anything to the ghosts, refusing to offer meat would have resulted in no harm. But without concrete information, who would dare take that chance?
Besides, in the eyes of many players—including Qi Si himself—trading someone else's flesh for crucial information was a bargain with immense returns.
The fear of the unknown, the selfish genes etched into evolutionary history, the game-theory mindset, the chains of suspicion... the Weird Game certainly had a masterful grasp on human nature.
As this thought crossed his mind, Qi Si felt a sense of release.
He was always the one luring and deceiving others; to be nearly misled by the Weird Game this time... wasn't that an interesting experience in its own right?
A faint smile touched Qi Si's lips as he moved silently toward the shadows at the edge of the courtyard.
Zhao Feng, having found no opportunity to distinguish himself earlier, dropped A'Xi and hurried after him. "It seems the evil god's corpse is in the west of the village," he offered, eager to contribute. "And that black-robed Taoist... the people on the forums say the Main God wanders between instances, acting as a link. He's probably the Main God's avatar."
He then watched as the young man ahead of him stopped, turned, and offered an approving smile. "Excellent. Leave me your address and phone number. After the instance, I'll petition the guild master and consider you for membership in the guild."
Zhao Feng was momentarily stunned. It was all happening so smoothly that it felt like a dream, one that might pop at the slightest touch.
He had always held a high opinion of himself, yet for the past few days, he had been following "Chang Xu" around like a lackey, nodding and bowing, all for the singular purpose of joining the Sila Guild.
And now, that wish was finally coming true...
"Thank you! Thank you so much!" Zhao Feng gushed, careful not to betray a hint of arrogance. He knew that the closer one gets to success, the more cautious one must be to avoid snatching defeat from the jaws of victory.
Qi Si seemed to appreciate his reverence, his smile taking on a pitying edge. "Why thank me? I just saw you had potential and wanted to recommend a talent to the guild. If you earn the guild master's favor in the future, I might be the one relying on you."
Relying on *me*? *You'll be lucky if I don't stab you in the back,* Zhao Feng scoffed inwardly.
Recalling the past few days, he sneered internally, yet the reverence on his face grew even more sincere.
He watched as Qi Si, seemingly oblivious, even placed his hands on the sides of his neck to straighten his collar. The gesture only felt more ironic, hardening his resolve to exact revenge once he was in a position of power.
The very next second, however, a searing pain, sharp as a knife, exploded from the back of his neck. A spray of warm liquid erupted, then trickled down his spine.
He saw the black-haired young man slowly retract a blood-soaked blade, his eyes curving into a smile. "I'm sorry," Qi Si purred, "but you've outlived your usefulness. Besides, I've found that I have a rather low tolerance for untidiness..."
He opened his mouth to scream a curse, but all that came out was a guttural "hrrk, hrrk," like the rasp of a broken bellows.
Decades of memories churned in his mind—the cons, the scams, the murders. He had imagined countless ways to die, but never like this, so unceremoniously, at the hands of a pretty boy who looked like he couldn't hurt a fly, killed by a tiny razor blade...
His strength vanished in a rush, and Zhao Feng crumpled to the ground. All he could do was glare with eyes that would not close, trying to burn his murderer's face into his mind.
"Remember, the man who killed you is Chang Xu. If you want revenge, don't go after the wrong person... though I suppose dying in the game means you won't get a chance to become a vengeful spirit, right? Looks like you'll just have to hope for better luck in the next life."
Qi Si shamelessly pinned the blame on Chang Xu, another one of his victims. He was confident that even in the underworld, the police officer would be more than capable of teaching Zhao Feng a lesson.
He savored Zhao Feng's gaze, which burned with a fire that could almost singe, and waited patiently for him to draw his last breath. Then, he knelt and searched his pockets, pulling out the cross-shaped item.
After seeing the note in the item description—[This item is bound and cannot be transferred]—Qi Si lost interest. He tossed the cross back onto Zhao Feng's chest, then began dragging the body away to find a suitable hiding spot.
...
The temperature inside the ancestral hall continued to drop. A chilling, terrifying atmosphere seeped into the air, strand by insidious strand. Even Zhu Ling, after a quick survey, couldn't help but shiver.
"Zhu Ling, I'm scared. Let's get out of here..." Zhou Yilin pleaded softly, clinging to Zhu Ling's arm.
Her eyes fell on the skeleton and the broadsword on the floor. "Shouldn't we... take him with us?"
Zhu Ling's eye twitched. She shook her head. "Let's just... let him rest in peace. With his sword here to guard him, the ghosts won't dare touch his remains..."
She trailed off, not entirely convinced by her own words. Still, the thought that she hadn't stooped to looting the dead gave her a renewed sense of righteousness.
Although she had been forced into this zero-sum game and had indirectly caused Yang Yundong's death, she wasn't a bad person at heart. She had never intended to harm anyone... Once she returned to the real world, she would be sure to burn a few sticks of incense for him.
Zhou Yilin nodded eagerly, seemingly oblivious to Zhu Ling's inner conflict. "Okay, okay, Zhu Ling. Let's just hurry back!"
This girl is so timid, Zhu Ling mused, she probably won't last long in the Weird Game. She sighed internally, her expression betraying none of her thoughts.
She patted the shoulder of Zhang Licai, who was still slumped on the floor in the midst of an existential crisis. "We're leaving," she said, then took Zhou Yilin's arm and strode out of the hall, heading back toward Su Po's house.
Back in the hall, Zhang Licai sat alone in a daze. Another fifteen minutes passed before he finally snapped out of it, his eyes darting left and right.
Seeing that he was alone, he quickly snatched up the broadsword lying beside Yang Yundong's bones.
[Name: Rusty Broadsword]
[Type: Item]
[Effect: Deters ghosts]
[Remark: This is a blade that has killed many, yet its last owner used it for protection. Even at the brink of death, he never turned its edge on his own kind. "And that's why he's dead," a certain evil god remarked, feeling pity but no remorse.]
Zhang Licai scanned the pop-up description in a single glance and subconsciously rubbed his smooth, bald head. "Rest in peace, Brother Yang," he murmured. "I'll make sure your belongings get out of this instance."
He slung the broadsword over his back, stood, and stepped out of the ancestral hall, retracing his steps.
The path was filled with the rustle of wind and grass, and Zhang Licai jumped at every sound. Looking over his shoulder constantly, he turned the short walk into a thirty-minute ordeal.
By the time he finally returned to Su Po's courtyard, Qi Si had already finished bathing. He emerged from the woodshed in a fresh set of clothes, his hair still dripping wet.
Zhang Licai watched Qi Si run his fingers through his hair and couldn't help but grumble to himself: *The world's gone mad. What kind of grown man is fussier than a teenage girl?*
Then, he noticed that something—or someone—seemed to be missing from the courtyard.
"Where's Zhao Feng?" Zhang Licai asked.
"He's probably back in his room," Qi Si replied, tucking a few strands of his damp fringe behind his ear. He sounded uncertain. "He told me he wanted to go rest for a bit, so I went to take a shower on my own."
Zhang Licai didn't suspect a thing and went straight to push open the door to their room.
The moment the door opened, the thick stench of blood assaulted his nostrils, an immediate and unsettling warning. Zhang Licai, not yet processing it, walked brazenly into the room. When he saw what was inside, he froze on the spot.
There, in the center of the room, sat a blood-splattered wooden bucket. A human figure was crammed inside, limbs contorted at angles impossible for the living. Only a head poked out, eyes wide and staring lifelessly toward the doorway.
It was Zhao Feng!
Zhang Licai let out a strangled cry and collapsed, his backside hitting the floor with a thud.
Hearing the commotion, Qi Si walked over. He seemed just as horrified by Zhao Feng's gruesome death, the calm mask he had maintained for so long finally showing a crack.
His face grim, he stepped forward, wrapped a corner of the bedsheet around his hand, and skillfully began to arrange the corpse's final expression.
As the gash beneath the corpse's neck became visible, he drew a sharp breath. "This wasn't a ghost... It was a person. Zhao Feng was murdered..."
Zhu Ling and Zhou Yilin, drawn by the noise, came over, supporting each other.
Zhu Ling glanced at the bucket from a distance, then fixed her gaze on Qi Si. "Did you kill Zhao Feng?"
Qi Si let out a cold laugh. "So eager to sling mud in my direction... I don't know which one of you killed him, but don't you find such a blatant lie utterly laughable?"
The grief in his eyes was painfully authentic, his words bitten out with fury. For a moment, Zhu Ling wavered, beginning to doubt her own judgment.
But she quickly recognized the danger. She shot a look at Zhou Yilin beside her and retorted sharply, "Yilin and I have been together this entire time. How could we possibly have had an opportunity to kill anyone?"
But Zhou Yilin seemed oblivious to the signal. She was trembling like a leaf, her head bowed, her gaze fixed on a spot on the floor. She remained silent, her lips pressed into a thin line.
As the atmosphere grew heavy and stagnant, Su Po's voice cut through the tension from the dining table, jarringly cheerful. "Dinner's ready! Come and eat!"
Having just witnessed a murder scene, no one but Qi Si was in the mood to eat. Nevertheless, the players silently took their seats at the table and ate in silence.
After hastily stuffing a few mouthfuls of food and pinching their noses to swallow the "divine meat," the four remaining survivors left the table one by one.
Back in his room, Qi Si leaned over a corner, his expression flat as he spat out the divine meat he had only pretended to swallow.
...
Elsewhere, Zhang Licai stood frozen at the door to his own room, lost in thought.
He had been roommates with Zhao Feng for two days, after all. And while he condemned Zhao Feng on a moral level for killing Yang Yundong, he had no intention of making an enemy of him.
Just moments before, on his way back, he had been mentally rehearsing the best way to interact with Zhao Feng.
He never expected Zhao Feng to just turn up dead, and so bizarrely.
Zhang Licai felt no schadenfreude, no sense that "evil had met its just reward." Instead, a cold dread crept up his spine, as if a sword of Damocles now hung over his own head, ready to fall at any moment.
As he stood there, lost in his thoughts, he heard Qi Si's voice from behind. "You can't stay in this room anymore. Come to mine."
Zhang Licai's initial reaction was to reject the idea that Qi Si was the murderer. After all, it was obvious to anyone with eyes that Zhao Feng followed Qi Si's every command.
What could Qi Si possibly gain by killing him?
He didn't dwell on it any further and immediately nodded in agreement.
He couldn't stand to be in a room where someone had just died for another second.
Qi Si led the way. He stood aside at the door to let Zhang Licai enter, then followed him in and bolted the door shut.
Hearing the bolt slide into place, Zhang Licai's heart leaped into his throat. He spun around hastily, only to see Qi Si leaning casually against the door panel. "I killed Zhao Feng," Qi Si announced calmly.
"What?"
The murderer just confessed on his own? What kind of twisted game was this?
Logically, if things had progressed to this point, wasn't the next step to silence him permanently?
Zhang Licai's mind went blank. His legs gave out from under him, and he stumbled back against the bed. "You... I... I don't know anything!"
Qi Si had never intended to hide a fact that was obvious to any discerning eye. His earlier clumsy performance had been nothing more than a smokescreen for Zhu Ling's benefit, staged at Zhou Yilin's request.
Looking at Zhang Licai, who seemed on the verge of fainting, he offered a placating smile. "What are you thinking? If I truly wanted to kill you, you'd already be a corpse."
Zhang Licai swallowed hard, his legs still shaking. "What... what do you want from me?"
Qi Si patted his shoulder and sighed. "There's no need to be so afraid. In truth, you and I have no direct conflict of interest. I just wanted to sit down with you, talk things over, and lay out the facts and the stakes."
"Zhu Ling wanted to harm Yang Yundong, so she ordered Zhou Yilin to alter his clues. Zhou Yilin holds a private grudge against Zhu Ling, so she's playing along while looking for a chance to strike back. I am an egoist, and to secure the greatest benefit for myself, I would kill every last one of you without hesitation."
"Once a conflict begins, no one can remain safely outside the vortex. And you've already seen that Zhou Yilin and I have formed a partnership to deal with Zhu Ling. I'm curious, under these circumstances, which side will you choose to join?"
Zhang Licai's chubby face went as pale as a waterlogged bun, and not just because of Qi Si's terrifying words.
He wasn't entirely ignorant of the undercurrents swirling beneath the peaceful surface. He just preferred to play dumb, to be the amiable peacemaker who would side with the victor once the dust settled. But now, he was being forced to take a side. He could no longer be a spectator...
The advantage held by Qi Si and Zhou Yilin was obvious, but what if? Why couldn't he just continue to play dumb and clear the instance in blissful ignorance?
Qi Si saw Zhang Licai's hesitation. With a smile, he drew the blade from his bracelet and pressed it into the other man's right hand. "Of course," he said, "you could always try to kill me. That would leave Zhou Yilin and Zhu Ling on equal footing, and you... you would become the final weight on the scales, the one to decide the outcome."
He took hold of Zhang Licai's right hand and guided it to his own neck. "Just one downward slice," he coaxed, his voice a seductive whisper. "A spray of blood, and you'll transform from a pawn being pushed around the board into the kingmaker who decides the entire game. Whomever you choose will win."
Zhang Licai's breathing grew ragged. His right hand trembled, and the edge of the blade scraped a thin, red line across the young man's pale throat.
Crimson beads of blood seeped into his shirt collar, blooming into a pale pink cloud and adding a touch of sinister beauty to the scene.
The black-haired young man suddenly lowered his eyes and let out a soft laugh. "Such a shame, though. I've already got a handle on this instance's final secret. If I happen to die before the end, I'll..."
He let the sentence hang in the air. Zhang Licai leaned in. "You'll what?"
"Oh, nothing special," Qi Si said, his lips curling into a malicious smile. "If it really looks like I'm going to die, I'll just make sure to destroy the crucial clues first."
"And then," he added, "no one gets to clear this instance through the standard route."
Comments 2