Mister Sea of Books's brow furrowed ever so slightly—clearly, he hadn't expected Su Er to wreak such havoc on the dungeon.
Shen Jiangbei, usually not one to speak much, couldn’t help but ask, “Why call it the wife’s family?”
It wasn’t rare for players to feign affection and manipulate emotions for the sake of clearing a dungeon, so Su Er wasn’t unusual. What puzzled him was Ji Heng’s choice of words.
Ji Heng replied, “Su Er’s spouse is rather... special.”
Mister Sea of Books hit the mark with a single guess: “The Ghost King?”
At his words, everyone except Ji Heng changed expressions. Wen Buyu was shocked that the host, who never left his room, could know this; Wan Yi and Shen Jiangbei were astonished by Su Er’s sheer audacity.
After receiving confirmation, Mister Sea of Books finally lifted his gaze from his scroll and changed the subject: “The day after tomorrow, there will be a unified vote in the town in the afternoon. The results will be announced the following morning.”
Wen Buyu’s face went pale. “But in previous years, wasn't the voting in the morning and results in the afternoon?”
Mister Sea of Books: “It’s the same.”
“How can that be the sa—” Realizing who she was speaking to, Wen Buyu cut herself off and forced down her protest.
Although Wan Yi and Shen Jiangbei didn’t show it, their gazes darkened. The town was undoubtedly more dangerous at night than during the day—staying an extra night meant a higher chance of falling prey to ghosts.
Then Wen Buyu suddenly thought of something, her expression turning strange. “That voting day just happens to be the day Su Er returns to visit his wife's family.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced at Ji Heng. Could it be they had planned this all along?
Mister Sea of Books lowered his head again to continue reading. For a moment, no one knew whether to stay or go—no one wanted to be the first to speak under such uncertain circumstances. Shen Jiangbei, standing closest to Mister Sea of Books, clearly saw a piece of red paper being used as a bookmark in his book.
Wasn’t that the same type of red paper the Ghost King gave out as a vote?
Mister Sea of Books seemed in a helpful mood today. Calmly, he said, “I found it wedged in the gap by my bedside. Interesting, isn’t it?”
Shen Jiangbei’s expression changed slightly. That night, Wan Yi had said Su Er took refuge in the host’s room. Until now, he’d half-doubted it—but this confirmed it.
Mister Sea of Books casually pulled out a stack of red paper and placed it on the stone table. “There are quite a few in town responsible for monitoring people's words and actions. I am one of them. And as a townsperson, I also have the right to vote.”
At those words, several people seemed to realize something, and their expressions soured.
“If I were to stir up a few others and throw in these voting, I might be able to tip the scale,” Mister Sea of Books said mildly. “But I’d rather spend the time reading. Let’s keep things simple—if another player dies, I’ll hand over these votings to you all.”
With just a few words, the atmosphere turned ice-cold.
Though it was silent, even the wind outside felt too loud. Mister Sea of Books rose and returned to his room, leaving the courtyard full of uneasy stares.
Wen Buyu was the most anxious. If anyone among them turned murderous, she’d likely be the one to die.
“The host did it on purpose,” she said, trying to smooth her nerves by brushing away hair, but accidentally bumped the stone table with her elbow—she didn’t even feel pain. Despair filled her voice. “He must’ve suspected something that night. He might’ve even let Su Er go on purpose—just to wait for this moment!”
Like a rat thinking it’s being clever, only to be caught in a trap when it thinks it's safe.
No one responded. In the suffocating silence, Wen Buyu let out a few dry chuckles. Even if she died tonight, Su Er wouldn’t have it easy either. His recklessness had left behind a fatal flaw—there was no escaping the consequences.
Before her voice could grow sharper from frustration, Ji Heng suddenly said, “They’re just a few votings. What’s there to be so concerned about?”
Shen Jiangbei frowned. “It’s not a small number.”
Ji Heng replied meaningfully, “Su Er told me himself—only five of those votes are usable. The top three and the bottom two.”
Shen Jiangbei asked why.
Ji Heng said, “In Su Er’s own words—he was too nervous at the time and accidentally bit his lip. To distract himself, he left lip prints on the backs of the papers in the middle of the stack.”
In a town that values rules this much, tampering with the sacred voting process—even something like a lip print—would likely be seen as disgraceful. Whoever used those votings would get in trouble.
Ji Heng gave everyone a glance. “I have other matters. I’ll be going now.” Before leaving, he looked at Wen Buyu. She quickly handed him the red paper and box. “I already used what was inside.”
Her expression turned complicated. The item that could block ghost perception—few players had even heard of such a thing. In her lifetime, she’d at least experienced owning one.
Ji Heng left with the box.
Wan Yi didn’t ask what Wen Buyu and Ji Heng had traded privately. He stretched his neck, which had gone stiff, and asked after a moment, “What do you think—how much of that was true?”
Wen Buyu, having spent the most time with Su Er, replied honestly, “The lip prints are probably real. The rest—take it with a grain of salt.”
Wan Yi gave a soft chuckle and looked at Shen Jiangbei. “Were you this sharp back in high school?”
He preferred to believe it was a coincidence. Otherwise, for a newcomer, Su Er’s level of cunning was downright terrifying.
Shen Jiangbei said, “When you were in elementary school, there were probably child prodigies your age already in college. Don’t underestimate anyone.”
Wan Yi clicked his tongue and whispered, “We should really leave this courtyard.”
If Mister Sea of Books discovered the truth behind those red slips, they’d likely become scapegoats.
As they gradually left, the courtyard returned to silence.
Inside the house—
Mister Sea of Books was reading a military strategy book. The tactics were cunning and worth pondering. This particular chapter praised a well-matched battle.
“Tch—”
To him, the most efficient method was sowing discord—breaking enemies from within with minimal effort. What fun was there in direct confrontation?
Just like using red paper to make players turn on each other. Why waste energy watching over them constantly?
He idly flicked at the pile of red paper. One sheet was jostled to the side, and sunlight from outside fell across it, making the paper appear thinner. A casual glance—and suddenly, his gaze froze. Turning the red slip over, he saw a dark crimson lip print on the back.
Realizing something, he quickly flipped through several more. Without exception—every one of them was the same.
Choosing the Guard Chief was a serious matter—bloodstains were one thing, but the lip print was the real fatal flaw. If Su Er used it as leverage on voting day to bite back, things could get troublesome.
The thin paper was crumpled into a ball and tossed aside. A dangerous glint flashed in Mister Sea of Books’ eyes. “No wonder he was in such a rush to ‘marry himself off.’”
To Su Er, this place might be even more dangerous than the Ghost King's old estate.
In the square courtyard, Su Er was sweeping up ashes from the ground, collecting the brazier along the way.
The sun had finally risen fully into the sky. After washing his hands, Su Er brewed some tea and knocked on the door of a room.
The old woman’s voice was thick with exhaustion. “Who is it?”
Realizing it was a pointless question, she didn’t want to open the door but was afraid he might force his way in, so she got up and opened it.
Su Er said, “This is the tea-serving part of the ritual.”
The old woman’s face darkened. “You had a ghost marriage—what tea are you serving?” She trailed off, eyeing the cup suspiciously.
“There’s no drug in it,” Su Er said. “That would be completely unnecessary.”
A young man brimming with energy and an elderly woman near the end of her life—the physical disparity was obvious. The old woman knew she couldn’t stop him if he tried to snatch the pendant, but her suspicious nature wouldn’t let her relax.
After a whole night on edge, her throat was indeed sore. She took a sip of the tea, secretly wondering how this man had survived the night.
Su Er left the tea set behind and stepped back out into the courtyard. The old woman’s wariness of him hadn’t lessened—her expression shifted uncertainly before she slammed the door shut.
The rustling of tree leaves sounded soothing to Su Er. After spending so long in this instance, the deathly stillness of night was suffocating—he preferred a world full of sound.
Creaaak.
The wooden gate let out an unpleasant sound as it opened, interrupting Su Er’s thoughts.
The outer door had only been half-closed. Once it opened fully, Ji Heng walked in, carrying some pastries.
Su Er hadn’t eaten much since the previous night. He usually didn’t care for overly sweet things, but now, popping one into his mouth after another, he actually found them quite enjoyable.
It only took about three minutes to fill his stomach. Since it wasn’t safe to speak openly in the courtyard, Su Er pointed toward the room next door, and they both headed inside.
Brushing the crumbs off his hands, Su Er’s expression turned serious. “The most urgent thing is handling the matter with the item.”
Tonight, the skeleton would definitely bring up the old topic again—insisting he take the pendant from the old woman.
Ji Heng glanced at his lips, where faint wounds could still be seen moving as he spoke. Thinking of the lip prints on the red slips, he shook his head. “Manipulating the votings—only you would think of that.”
“Biting my lip was an accident,” Su Er said, realizing a second later what Ji Heng was referring to. He rolled up his sleeve. “I scraped against a whip while climbing over the wall that night—most of the blood came from that.”
Otherwise, with that many red slips, sticking a lip print on each one by biting his lip would’ve been agonizing.
Fingers gently traced the edge of the wound, Su Er’s face chilled. The whip wound had been a gift from the Guard Chief. Right after entering the instance, he’d been whipped for no reason—lowering his combat power, and making it painful to even sleep at night.
Unfortunately, time was tight. There was no chance to settle that debt.
Ji Heng said, “Dealing with the pendant actually isn’t that hard. Just switch it out.”
Su Er thought for a moment. “Have someone make a similar one and swap it with the one the old lady’s wearing?”
Ji Heng nodded. “As long as the Ghost King doesn’t examine it closely, he probably won’t notice. The real issue is…”
Su Er rubbed his temples. “How do we deal with the Ghost King?”
Last night, the Ghost King had pressed him hard with only one goal: Su Er had to personally take the pendant from the old lady.
It was rare to see a trace of frustration on Su Er’s face. Ji Heng chuckled. “Rules are rigid. People are flexible.”
Just like this rule-bound world, which was full of loopholes and shadows.
Su Er felt like he was on the verge of grasping something, but couldn’t quite put it into words.
Ji Heng’s expression grew solemn. “The voting is scheduled for the day after tomorrow. Normally, we’d have to survive two more dangerous nights.” He paused, a smile playing on his lips—though if you looked closely, there was a hint of menace in his eyes. “But what if the voting gets moved up?”
Su Er was startled.
“Just a hypothetical…” Ji Heng said. “What if the Guard Chief suddenly falls gravely ill? Just like a nation can’t go a day without a king, this town can’t go a day without a Guard Chief.”
That would force the vote to be held earlier.
After a few seconds of stunned silence, Su Er stepped forward and grabbed his hand, calling him brother with heartfelt warmth.
Ji Heng raised an eyebrow.
Su Er’s face radiated with the rare joy of finding a kindred spirit. Moved, he said, “Brother, so you’re not a good person either!”
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