The excessive silence was unsettling, but Su Er wasn’t surprised—he simply assumed the others were amazed he had actually made it back alive.
He didn’t close the door behind him when he entered, which implied someone else might be coming in after him. Sure enough, with about a minute's delay, the blonde woman appeared, walking slowly, a tear in her chest area revealing a cut in her clothing.
It wasn’t revealing in the slightest—the tear was only as wide as a blade, and the surrounding area was stained with a mix of black and red blood.
At that moment, her condition essentially confirmed Ji Heng’s earlier reenactment.
Seeing this, Lu Quanqiu’s first reaction was: So some ghosts still bleed from their vessels when injured.
Then he thought: Who knew Su Er was such a ruthless guy!
During the confrontation in the forest, the blonde woman ultimately chose to save her life by answering the question. Without a doubt, Su Er got the upper hand. He knew how to advance and retreat, not pushing too hard, and instead let the judge save face.
Su Er’s lashes trembled slightly. Before sitting down, he gave a wry smile: “That scumbag was truly despicable. The moment he sensed something was wrong, he set a trap in advance.”
Then he looked at the blonde woman with lingering fear: “Good thing I didn’t go alone.”
The blonde woman’s expression slightly softened. With a scornful tone, she said, “Just a jumping clown. If I could kill him once, I can kill him a second time.”
Su Er played along: “Who would've thought the scumbag would become even more cunning and dangerous after turning into a ghost.” Then he turned to the others. “At that time, a violent wind blew through the forest, trees were uprooted...”
His years of writing 800-character daily compositions weren’t for nothing. He launched into nearly a thousand-word scene description on the spot, packed with intrigue and peril, painting a picture of incredible danger.
In the story, the blonde woman became a near-divine savior descending from the heavens. When he finished, Su Er raised his glass to her: “I will never forget your life-saving grace.”
As for the blonde woman, she reacted like she was hearing about something utterly trivial, nodding dismissively from her high perch.
The top-tier participants remained silent. A few staff members were visibly squirming in their seats. Clearly, it was Su Er and the blonde woman who should’ve felt awkward—but the listeners were the ones who wanted to crawl into a hole.
Was this the legendary phenomenon of secondhand embarrassment?
The sound of bamboo sticks clinking brought everyone—living or dead—back to focus. Mister Rose’s expression had turned icy: “The game continues.”
Su Er carefully asked, “May I ask if the Truth or Dare game can be played more than once?”
His gaze shifted to the big-mouthed man with strength on par with the blonde woman, as if forcing himself through fear: “I didn’t do anything while killing the scumbag earlier, so I lost my chance to ask a question... Can I try again?”
His tone was utterly humble.
The usually man-eating big-mouth man suddenly felt a wave of malicious intent wash over him.
It was Ji Heng who spoke up, glancing at Su Er and softly reminding, “No one falls for the same trick twice.”
A subtle warning that the judge wouldn't be fooled again.
Su Er’s expression didn’t change, but he was stirred internally. When he met Ji Heng’s amused gaze, he quickly realized using the same tactic on every ghost was risky.
He had gotten complacent.
A good student should be good at reflecting and summarizing mistakes.
Mister Rose ignored the exchange and spoke even more coldly, “Who’s next?”
Su Er’s previous actions had unknowingly eased some of the players’ fear of drawing lots. Lu Quanqiu, the most impatient of the group, was already hesitating about participating.
“This could be a good opportunity to switch partners,” Man Jiangshan said, looking toward Qu Qingming before Lu could decide, probing reasonably: “Aren’t you going to give it a try?”
The pointed tone was obvious, but not enough to cause alarm.
Since there was a love killer hidden among them, mutual suspicion among players was common. Man Jiangshan’s attitude seemed more like he was using Qu Qingming as a test case.
Qu Qingming was momentarily stuck between a rock and a hard place. Sophistry wouldn’t work here—as the only one partnered with a ghost, taking no action would all but confirm herself as the love killer.
She smiled calmly and spoke: “How could I pass up such a rare chance? I was just worried it might upset you.”
Man Jiangshan raised a brow: “What’s it got to do with me?”
“If I succeed, I plan to switch to him as my partner,” Qu Qingming said, pointing at Lu Quanqiu with a wink.
The atmosphere suddenly grew tense.
Without delay, Qu Qingming reached out and drew a stick.
Su Er watched the whole process and noticed her fingertips seemed to brush over the bamboo strip’s surface deliberately.
Remembering how Mister Rose had emphasized that the drawing was based on luck, Su Er smiled to himself. The process could be fair, but the moment the stick was drawn… that was another matter.
Qu Qingming openly revealed her result: Wake the Ghost in Your Heart.
The name alone didn’t sound promising.
Mister Rose’s lips finally curved slightly: “Not bad luck.”
Qu Qingming asked, “Can I switch partners?”
Mister Rose shook his head.
Qu Qingming looked visibly disappointed.
The back-and-forth was full of dramatic flair, but Su Er saw through it and kept silent, waiting for the host to explain the game rules.
“Don’t be so quick to feel disappointed,” Mister Rose said, putting the stick away. “Its charm lies in being a group game.”
The moment the word ‘group’ came out, the players’ expressions shifted.
Mister Rose first clarified the game’s nature, claiming the danger level wasn’t high—but the grin on his face was unsettling: “The key is whether any of you dare to gamble.”
Lu Quanqiu asked anxiously, “What do you mean?”
Mister Rose raised a hand to signal patience. After a moment, a bead the size of a crystal ball appeared in his palm.
The bead was beautiful, its surface covered in a faint glow, very much like the legendary luminous pearl.
“Everyone has secrets in their hearts. This can reveal the secret you least want exposed at this moment.”
Seeing many people instinctively sit up straighter and edge away, Mister Rose continued, “The bead will determine the most valuable secret. The winner will receive a death exemption pass for this instance.”
Su Er clearly heard Lu Quanqiu beside him sharply draw in a breath and asked, “Even if I fail the task, I won’t die?”
Mister Rose nodded with a smile.
Su Er said no more, silently growing wary… It wasn’t an instant clear, only a death exemption—clearly, there was more to it.
As the one who drew the lot, according to the host, Qu Qingming had to participate first, whether she wanted to or not. As for the others, it was entirely voluntary. If no one else joined, Qu Qingming would automatically win.
Mister Rose gently pushed the bead forward and added, “It’s just a defective product. Each time, it can only reveal up to ten characters, so it can’t expose a secret in full detail.”
Upon hearing this, everyone reacted differently, privately weighing the risks.
Qu Qingming lightly placed her hand on the bead, and a line of text immediately appeared on its surface: Can't let others discover my ugliness.
Immediately following that, a number popped up, showing the value of the secret: 69.
Lu Quanqiu was shocked. “Is that out of a hundred?”
The score seemed incredibly high.
Others might not know, but Su Er understood very well—this single sentence could potentially be evidence that Qu Qingming was a ghost. Unfortunately, just as Mister Rose had said, the ten-character limit severely restricted what could be revealed, so the bead’s output was rather vague.
After Qu Qingming finished, Lu Quanqiu immediately placed his hand on it.
Man Jiangshan cursed, “Bastard.”
They both shared the same biggest secret, but Lu Quanqiu had acted first. By the time it was her turn, the secret’s value would be gone.
But whatever she said now, it was too late. The allure of a death exemption was far too great—enough for Lu Quanqiu to reveal his biggest trump card without hesitation, even if it meant risking fallout with his partner.
—I know where the altar is.
Score: 71.
Qu Qingming’s smile faded slightly, and the way she looked at Lu Quanqiu became unreadable.
Mister Rose also furrowed his brows for a few seconds, realizing something might be amiss.
Everyone else might be fooled, but Su Er—who hadn’t been drinking—was just thankful he hadn’t taken a sip, or he’d probably have choked on it.
From the corner of his eye, he noticed Ji Heng, who had been calm and composed this entire time—clearly, he had already realized the flaw. The crystal bead could reveal a person’s innermost secret, but it couldn’t judge the truth of that secret.
Take Lu Quanqiu, for example. He firmly believed he had found the altar, so the bead judged that belief as his deepest secret.
Ji Heng’s calm demeanor vanished in an instant as he raised an eyebrow, feigning slight surprise: “You actually found the altar?”
Lu Quanqiu kept his mouth shut and sat down again, acting like a man holding a world-shaking secret.
At that moment, all attention was on him.
As for Man Jiangshan, though she had already guessed the truth, she still placed her hand on the bead as the third participant. The same words appeared as Lu Quanqiu’s, but the score was 0.
A secret revealed to the public was no longer a secret.
A flicker of irritation appeared on her face as she sat down with a cold snort.
After her, there was a brief lull.
Mister Rose swept his gaze around the room. “One more minute, and the game will end.”
The most anxious person now was undoubtedly Lu Quanqiu. As long as Su Er and Ji Heng didn’t participate, the death exemption would be his!
Su Er understood Ji Heng—he was unlikely to participate. For a top-tier player, even the smallest secret could cause a stir. The real question was whether Su Er himself should join.
Zhu Yun, the stun gun, his parents’ deaths… A flood of unsolved mysteries surged up in his mind.
And what if the bead revealed something like: “The altar is a cheap knockoff”? That would be mortifying.
“Don’t overthink it.” Ji Heng glanced at him and said coolly, “It’s just secrets wrapped in a fancy package. What this thing reveals isn’t your secret—it’s the thought you subconsciously don’t want exposed.”
Su Er was momentarily stunned.
Ji Heng’s lips curled slightly. “If you don’t understand yourself, go test it. Even if there’s a price, it’s worth it.” He paused, then added, “But if you believe a brief moment of confusion won’t affect your future path, then there’s no need.”
Human progress often begins with self-awareness.
Mister Rose squinted, seemingly displeased that the true nature of the bead had been exposed.
Su Er fell silent for several seconds, caught in a brief struggle. Finally, he sighed and placed his hand on the bead.
Because of his emotional detachment, he often didn’t even know how he viewed ghosts, the instances, or even the game itself…
He truly wanted an answer.
“Tell me…” Su Er murmured to himself, unsure whether he was asking the bead or interrogating his own soul, “…what am I really thinking?”
The bead flickered twice—unlike the others, it didn’t immediately show a response. Only after a short pause did it slowly reveal a single line of text under everyone’s gaze—
“All of you here are trash.”
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