LABMY CH155

Xu Shu’s corpse lay on the cold, filthy floor. Her cloudy, lifeless eyes bulged, staring at the ceiling, frozen in the extreme shock she had felt before her death.

In this blood-soaked game, she had spent eight hours treading carefully, hiding as if walking on thin ice, barely managing to endure until the sound of the clock chiming—marking the end of the game round.

Yet, she had died at the very moment she felt most relaxed, most hopeful.

She died with her eyes wide open.

At nine o’clock the next morning, the screen lit up, announcing the names of those being hunted in the new round. The remaining survivors who hadn’t seen any sign of Xu Shu had already guessed—she was most likely dead.

The castle was enormous, its rooms tangled in a labyrinthine layout. No one knew where Xu Shu had died, nor was anyone interested in retrieving her body.

As the screen’s mechanical, icy electronic voice read out the names, a man standing by the staircase, wearing a deep blue jacket, with a noticeable beer belly and looking about thirty-seven or thirty-eight years old, immediately turned and ran.

A few people in the hall instinctively lifted their heads, watching the direction he fled in, then followed closely behind.

Jian Yuanbai frowned slightly, just about to move, when someone suddenly broke down, screaming at the screen.

“I don’t want to play this game anymore! Let me go!”

“Please, I swear I won’t say a word about this place! Just let me leave!”

“I don’t want the money anymore! I just want to leave!”

As soon as he spoke, two others in the hall also chimed in, echoing their desire to escape.

With fewer and fewer people around them, watching one person after another die, standing in the hall each time like they were awaiting a death sentence, they could only sigh in relief when their names weren’t called—only to immediately start worrying about whether they would be next.

It was like a sword hanging over their heads, ready to fall at any moment and take their lives.

Not everyone could endure this kind of torment.

Especially now that half of the players had already died. The remaining thirteen were clearly divided into two factions—most had already embraced the game, actively hunting others. Apart from Jian Yuanbai and Shen Tingyue, the four people left in the hall seemed to be the ones who wanted to escape.

On the screen, H wore a half-metal mask, the exposed half of his mouth twisted into an exaggerated grin. He spread his hands, appearing very generous. “You’re the ones playing the game.”

“If you can leave the castle, no one will stop you.”

Li Lijie cursed, “You electrified the iron fence and locked the doors. How the hell are we supposed to leave?”

“This is no different from putting a gun to our heads and telling us we can walk away.”

H snapped his fingers. “That’s why you have to figure it out yourselves.”

“Besides, do you really want to leave?”

“If you win, you can have anything you desire—money, power, beauty, and even…” H suddenly leaned closer to the screen, his voice dripping with temptation. “Life itself.”

H’s grin widened, his expression both ecstatic and insane. “Play! Fall into darkness! Indulge in this game to your heart’s content!”

With a sharp whoosh, the screen abruptly went black, leaving behind a few unwilling participants.

The first person who had begged H to leave turned toward the others, including Li Lijie. “We all want out. Let’s work together.”

He took the others with him and left. Jian Yuanbai glanced at the figure hesitating in the corner and asked, “Are you going with them?”

Lao Zhao’s face was lined with fear, his posture shrinking. “I miss my daughter.”

“I don’t know when my name will be called. I really, I really…” Lao Zhao clenched his dusty, cement-stained work pants with calloused hands, his back hunched. “I really don’t want to die.”

Jian Yuanbai’s gaze followed his movement, landing on his hands—hands that had done years of hard labor, thick with rough calluses, with large, knotted fingers.

After a brief glance, he withdrew his gaze and said to Lao Zhao, “Find a place to hide. Your daughter’s school fees… there may still be a chance.”

Lao Zhao gave a bitter smile and nodded. “I understand. Thank you. Thank you.”

He turned and left, his back slightly hunched, but his steps were steady. Jian Yuanbai watched his retreating figure and suddenly realized—if Lao Zhao stood up straight, he was likely at least 1.75 meters tall.

But his timid, cowering demeanor made him seem much smaller.

Now, only Jian Yuanbai and Shen Tingyue remained in the hall. Jian Yuanbai lifted his head, looking toward the upper floors of the castle.

That man had run upstairs.

This castle had at least a hundred rooms. Within the castle’s grounds, the surrounding gardens and greenery covered an enormous area. Perched atop a cliff, it was a perfect setting for a survival game.

No one would ever discover this place, and no one would ever interfere.

In the past few days, Jian Yuanbai had searched but hadn’t found any signal-jamming devices—nor had he been able to contact his teammates.

His wireless communication device seemed like it would never pick up a signal from the other side again.

Logically speaking, he had been missing for so long that the team should have sent someone to look for him. But now, Jian Yuan was gone.

Shen Tingyue heard him speak and turned his head slightly to glance at him.

Jian Yuanbai said, “You weren’t here the first time, so you don’t know what the rules say.”

“The exact wording is: One, from 9 AM to 5 PM, and from 6 PM to 2 AM, are the designated game periods. Two, outside of the game periods, it is forbidden to kill players who have survived the previous round. Three, violators will have their names announced to all players and will become a target for pursuit, regardless of the game period.”

“In other words, according to the rules, the one-hour gap from 5 PM to 6 PM, and the seven-hour gap from 2 AM to 9 AM, are supposed to be safe periods.”

He smiled, but his gaze was icy. “However, someone killed after 2 AM, yet their name was not announced to everyone. Even more suspiciously, their name did not break the sequence and appear ahead of time. This rule is fake.”

“If this rule is false, then the most crucial aspect of this game—the game period—is also false.”

“There is no such thing as a game period. Killing can happen anytime, anywhere.”

Shen Tingyue pinched his chin and struggled to think. “But even if we know this, what does it change?”

Jian Yuanbai explained, “The killer must also know that this rule doesn’t exist. Right now, he is following the sequence of names to kill people in order to keep others from realizing that this rule is false.”

“When only three or four people are left, his chances of winning will be very high.”

“Because the others will subconsciously obey the rule, lowering their guard during the so-called safe periods.”

“Every time names are announced, we are kept a certain distance apart. That’s to prevent people from hearing their name unexpectedly and not having time to escape.”

“But if someone isn’t the target of this round, they will subconsciously relax their vigilance—just like how I got close to Jia Qi with only a few sentences.”

Jian Yuanbai continued, “Someone who deeply understands that the rules are false can use this to hunt others in the later stages of the game.”

He walked to the large clock at the staircase in the hall and knocked on it. “At the beginning, we heard this clock chime once near the chimney structure beside the main castle building. The sound was weak and unclear.”

Shen Tingyue thought back and suddenly remembered. “I recall now—it was when Li Lijie came down from that top floor full of skeletons, and you were reading the diary.”

His expression froze slightly. Thinking back, he suddenly remembered something rather alarming.

At that time, he had spoken in front of Li Lijie.

That should have been insignificant because he had already bitten Jian Yuanbai’s neck and sucked his blood twice by then. His strength had recovered somewhat, and no matter what sound he made, as long as he maintained the appearance of ‘Lu Yongye,’ Li Lijie’s brain would automatically interpret his voice as Lu Yongye’s.

But Jian Yuanbai…

Shen Tingyue cautiously studied Jian Yuanbai and saw him staring at the clock.

Jian Yuanbai said, “Back then, I already found it strange. A game that emphasizes the game period so much, yet the clock marking the period’s end doesn’t chime very loudly.”

“The sound can be heard inside the castle, but the farther you are from the castle, the fainter it gets—easily ignored. If you sleep inside the castle, you won’t be woken up by it.”

“This clock, just like that piece of paper, was deliberately arranged. Whoever realizes the trick behind it first will gain an advantage.”

Shen Tingyue nodded, half-understanding. He praised, “You’re amazing.”

His flattery earned him a crisp flick to the forehead. Jian Yuanbai clicked his tongue. “Knowing this doesn’t change anything. If we want to end the game, it seems we have to stop following the mastermind’s plan.”

Shen Tingyue covered his reddened forehead, pouting in grievance. “If it doesn’t change anything, then why flick me? So annoying.”

Jian Yuanbai extended a finger and waved it in front of him. “Wanna bite?”

Shen Tingyue’s eyes lit up, and he nodded enthusiastically. “Mm!”

He grabbed Jian Yuanbai’s finger and eagerly stuffed it into his mouth. His tiny sharp fangs pierced the fingertip’s skin, and he sipped at the blood oozing out in small mouthfuls.

His finger was enveloped in the warmth of a moist mouth, and a soft tongue kept licking at it. No matter how many times this happened, Jian Yuanbai still felt a little uneasy.

He didn’t even have a wife, yet his fingers and neck had already been licked and bitten multiple times.

Lowering his gaze, Jian Yuanbai looked at Shen Tingyue, who was holding onto his hand and sucking his blood like it was a treasure. His thoughts immediately steered themselves in a familiar direction.

I am his adoptive father.

What is an adoptive father?

Basically, a second parent.

This kind of relationship—getting bitten twice—what’s the big deal?

Was he supposed to just let Shen Tingyue starve?

Besides, if he didn’t let Shen Tingyue bite him, was he supposed to let him bite someone else?

Fingers are connected to the heart, and as his fingers were being licked and sucked, Jian Yuanbai felt a faint itch in his chest. But at the same time, he firmly reminded himself:

Absolutely impossible.

They were both men.

Getting his hand bitten—so what?

It wasn’t like he was gay.

He was straight.

A steel-reinforced, unshakable straight man.

Because he had bitten his finger and drank some blood, when Shen Tingyue finally released Jian Yuanbai’s hand, his cheeks were flushed, and his eyes sparkled with happiness.

The next second, his smile froze on his face.

Jian Yuanbai spoke with a half-smile, “You even bit my finger. Now tell me, where in the castle did you appear?”

He needed a place where absolutely no one would find him to carry out what was coming next.

The little vampire clearly hadn’t yet learned the dangers of human nature. Just for biting an extra finger, he was now being forced to reveal his lair.

Jian Yuanbai returned to his room, took out pen and paper, and began drafting a plan.

The feasibility of this plan was low, but he had no choice but to try. He couldn’t contact his rescue teammates, nor could he just sit back and let the killing game continue.

Even though he already had a location in mind, he still made sure to try every possible way to pry information out of Shen Tingyue.

The naïve and bewildered little vampire hesitated anxiously, his eyes brimming with tears, wanting to speak but stopping himself.

While Jian Yuanbai was drafting his plan, three people gathered in front of the castle’s iron gate.

A bus had been parked across the iron gate. On top of the bus, short cabinets were stacked to form a certain height. Two people held the cabinets steady while one person carefully climbed up.

Li Lijie held onto the cabinet but hesitated. “Shouldn’t we try to think of another way?”

“This jump… it’s too risky.”

To avoid touching the electrified wire fence, they had to be higher than the gate itself—at least two stories high.

Beyond the iron gate, there was nothing to cushion a fall. If they jumped, they wouldn’t die, but they would definitely be crippled.

They had thought about tossing a mattress over to break the fall, but in practice, it was impossible.

Mattresses were heavy. One person could lift one, but no one was strong enough to stand on an unsteady two-layered cabinet and throw it over.

And if they accidentally touched the electric fence, the consequences would be fatal.

Among the three, the tallest was the bald man. He spat on the ground. “Another way? What other way is there?”

“If we stay in the castle, we either kill or wait to die. As for that nonsense about everything that happens here never getting out, I don’t believe it.”

“I don’t want to die, and I sure as hell don’t want to get out of here only to end up in prison.”

He already regretted everything. He had been arrested for molesting a woman from his village while drunk, leaving a criminal record. The police had told him it would affect his son’s background check for a government job. He had come here because someone had promised that not only could they erase his record, but they would also give him a lot of money—any woman he wanted, he could have.

The bald man cursed inwardly. Money was useless if he didn’t survive to spend it. As for his son, if he couldn’t be a government worker, he could do something else—his father’s life wasn’t worth gambling over.

He had wanted to force someone else to jump first, but he worried that if they made it out, they wouldn’t call for help.

Glancing at the other two, his face twisted. Just his luck—he was the tallest of the three.

And the other two cowards had no intention of jumping.

Steeling himself, he reminded them again, “Hold steady. Don’t worry, once I get out, I’ll call the cops and send help for you.”

Li Lijie and the short-haired woman both nodded.

With a loud thud and a pained scream, the bald man landed on the ground, clutching his leg and howling in agony—his leg had broken.

He gasped for breath, then propped himself up with his good leg, turning back toward the iron gate. “Throw me the wooden board and the rope. I need to bind it.”

“As soon as I find someone, I’ll borrow their phone and call the police.”

He had deliberately not thrown the board and rope over earlier to avoid any risk of getting electrocuted.

Li Lijie, having witnessed him jump and break his leg, quickly climbed up and flung the dismantled wooden board and rope over the iron gate.

The bald man had grown up in the countryside, accustomed to climbing trees and jumping from heights. He had landed with caution, choosing his position carefully. Though his leg was broken, as long as he secured it with the wooden board and got medical attention in time, he would be fine.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, he quickly tied his leg and limped away without looking back.

Call the police?

For such a large castle with so many people gathered here, whoever was behind it must be powerful. He wasn’t stupid enough to get involved.

Dragging his broken leg, he could barely walk fast. Gritting his teeth, he simply dropped to the ground and crawled on all fours.

This way, he moved faster.

As he left the castle’s boundaries, his figure slowly disappeared into the dark forest. Focused on crawling and enduring the pain, he failed to notice that the mist around him was growing denser.

The pain made time stretch unbearably long. Just as he was about to collapse from exhaustion, he suddenly saw a light ahead in the forest.

His spirits lifted, and he scrambled forward with renewed energy.

Almost there, just a little more. Soon, he would escape this cursed place and return to his carefree life.

Crawling out of the forest, he looked up—

And in that instant, his expression froze.

Before him stood—

A towering, ancient castle.