Chapter 187: Red Maple Boarding School (24) “I’m Just Someone Who Hates Trouble”

On April 1st, Jin Yusheng organized a murder mystery game in a teahouse, joined by Qi Si and a woman who called herself “Xu Ning.”

Offline murder mystery games rarely have three-person scripts, so the trio naturally chose an online script and randomly picked one called “Three-Day Manor” from a rudimentary app.

Aside from flipping coins and rolling dice, there is little true randomness in the world. Most seemingly arbitrary decisions, from the moment they occur, are influenced by psychological cues, environment, circumstances, and other factors, making them guideable and predictable.

The number of three-person scripts was limited, and those with exactly two males and one female were few and far between. The ratings were also polarized. After layers of screening, the three of them, at that time, coincidentally made the same choice.

Qi Si knew the intricacies behind it, so he had already anticipated Xu Ning’s “clairvoyance” and her prior knowledge of the script information.

This was never a simple game; it was merely certain official organizations noticing him and wanting to approach him through relatively peaceful means to assess his danger level.

Everyone knew what was going on, but they all tacitly understood, as putting certain matters on the table would be very troublesome—and Qi Si happened to be someone who hated trouble.

The script for “Three-Day Manor” was quite interesting.

Three players and one NPC, all with grudges against each other, were coincidentally trapped in a manor, and at night, they brutally murdered their respective enemies.

Each time someone died, the manor’s time would reset, and the deceased would lose their memory of death, reviving the next day.

Until the third day, the police arrived at the manor, breaking the day-after-day cycle; time in the manor no longer reset, and the NPC who died on the final day truly perished.

The three players had to find the murderer of that NPC within a specified time, or they would all face legal repercussions.

Ultimately, Qi Si, as the “murderer,” was logically identified at a perfectly opportune moment, signaling the end of the farce.

During the debriefing stage, the script posed a final question: “If they are all criminals with blood on their hands, can they escape the judgment of justice merely because the deceased revived?”

Xu Ning read out the question, smiling as she waited for Qi Si’s answer.

Qi Si also smiled: “Otherwise? Crimes that leave no evidence don’t need to be judged. Unjudged evils are perfect crimes. After all, law is never equal to justice.”

Xu Ning’s smile remained: “A life for a life is a customary rule. Regardless of whether it causes substantial consequences, the mere act of killing is immoral.”

Qi Si retorted: “Why pursue morality?”

“When the human species was born, the instincts for survival and self-interest were written into our genes. Morality is not etched into any cell, yet it is imposed on everyone due to an illusion called ‘habit,’ forcing individuals to yield and sacrifice for the group; individuals must suppress their primal desires and abandon the pursuit of maximum benefit—but why?”

Xu Ning shook her head: “But you cannot deny that it is precisely the selfless dedication of generations, and the moral choices of countless people around us, that have allowed our society to develop to this point, enabling everyone to live in a prosperous and peaceful environment.”

“Yes, that’s why I never preach my philosophy, nor do I persuade righteous people to become scum like me.” Qi Si slowly poured tea into the tea strainer, and the light brown liquid became clear after passing through the filter. The gurgling sound made his words seem distant.

“On the contrary, I like those fools who are incited to righteous indignation by some vague slogans, and I also admire those righteous individuals who, despite seeing through the essence of morality, are still willing to sacrifice themselves like moths to a flame. But I know clearly that I will never be either of these types of people in my life.”

“For thousands of years and across vast distances, humans have been accustomed to obeying morality, simply because they were mostly confined to very small areas, bound by communities and ties formed by geography and kinship. All their actions and choices would spread within this collective, becoming the consensus of most people.”

“They fear the consequences of immorality, fear being dreaded and guarded against by familiar society, and fear being judged and executed by public order and good customs. The moral codes of benevolence and righteousness throughout history have been stained black by the coagulation of blood. Madmen or geniuses, if they wished to avoid being tied to the stake, had to feign madness and foolishness to conform to the habits of the majority.”

Qi Si paused for a moment, then looked directly into Xu Ning’s eyes, a brilliant smile on his face: “And in an environment with extreme fluidity, where evil does not lead to consequences—for example, in an infinite stream game where new instances appear every seven days and all personnel are randomly assigned—one only needs to kill everyone to easily control the consequences of defying morality within a small scope. So, how feasible is morality in terms of utilitarianism?”

Xu Ning’s smile lessened slightly, and she said seriously, “You should know that utilitarianism is not advocated.”

“See, you’re talking about things within a moral context again.” Qi Si sighed, flipped his wrist, and poured the tea dregs from the filter into the tea tray. “A small question: There’s a madman who wants to compete with you in killing. Whoever kills more within a limited time wins. If you win, nothing happens; if you lose, he will destroy the world. I want to know, what would you choose?”

Ning Xu pondered for a moment, not answering, but instead asked word by word, “So, if you were in an infinite stream game as you described, you would choose to kill everyone except yourself, right?”

“You misunderstood.” Qi Si smiled very happily. “I’m not a pervert; what good would killing do me? After all, I’m someone who hates trouble.”

…”I’m someone who hates trouble. If you want me to help you kill all the players, you must be prepared to give up more benefits.”

Qi Si’s words echoed in her memory as Zhang Yiyu walked towards the Graveyard, her thoughts in disarray.

The sky grew darker, as if rain might fall at any moment. Tiny water droplets floated in the damp air, condensing on her skin and embedding a palpable chill into her bones.

Figures darted around her, becoming clearer as Zhang Yiyu moved forward.

Gaunt children in tattered gray school uniforms ran and skipped under the grayish-white sky, singing a strange nursery rhyme:

“Evil gods and sickness have descended, granting me death…”

“All of us have died, buried in the earth…”

“The yellow flowers and yellow butterflies of saved souls are gone…”

“Tiny poisonous mushrooms grow from our grave soil…”

“We are devils, and so we lose our names forever…”

The lyrics were jumbled and made no logical sense; but the mere frequent appearance of a few keywords was enough to evoke terrifying scenes and cause unease.

Zhang Yiyu’s steps grew slower, as pale green mushrooms broke through the soil beneath her feet, extending tiny claw-like hands to hinder her progress.

As the wind blew, the ground full of mushrooms swayed like a green wave, each one softly singing a peculiar song.

The Graveyard was ahead, seemingly the home of all things eerie; the further she went, the more obvious the strange signs became. The scent of death was undeniable, and Zhang Yiyu’s danger alert pulsed wildly, bringing the intuition of a beast facing its natural predator.

She finally stopped, fear weaving around her like a net, preventing her from taking another step.

“Why am I saving Qi Si? Especially… why must I risk my life to save him?”

“What about the subsequent plans? Following Jiang Junjue, at worst I’ll die in the later stages of the instance, or be re-contained by the Investigation Bureau after leaving the instance; if I go any further, I might die the next second…”

Once the thought arose, it spread like aquatic plants, as if a sleeping person had suddenly woken from a daze.

Zhang Yiyu remembered that since signing the Contract, Qi Si had only initially taught her a cover story for the cannibalism incident, and had not provided any substantial help since.

He hadn’t even told her a single word about the background or worldview of this instance, treating her entirely as a tool to execute orders, keeping her in the dark from beginning to end.

Instead, it was she who was transmitting clues to Qi Si, helping Qi Si mislead other players with false information, and cautiously moving within the main group, remotely working like a dog for Qi Si.

Indeed, she was in a disadvantaged position, and obtaining Qi Si’s help would require a greater cost. But this cost was far too great, exceeding the value Qi Si could bring her.

Now that Qi Si had lost contact with her, he was likely in dire straits. Did she really need to put herself in danger just for one more teammate?

After all, Qi Si not only seemed unable to provide her with decisive help, but his control over her soul was also almost lost—otherwise, why hadn’t he done anything to her yet?

Thinking this, Zhang Yiyu stepped back. It wasn’t that she had truly seen through Qi Si’s tricks, but rather that the visibly manifest ghosts were clearly more terrifying than the binding of the Soul Contract.

She was about to return the way she came to the concrete building, but the next second, a cold dagger was pressed against her neck, drawing a trace of blood.

Chen Lidong’s reedy voice sounded behind her ear: “Little girl, your accomplice who’s pretending to be an NPC told you to come to the Graveyard to find him, right? If I’m not mistaken, he’s trapped in there and can’t get out, which is why he didn’t even show up for class on time?”

After realizing that 47 might be problematic, Chen Lidong had been searching for this “NPC boy” in the crowd, but the person seemed to have vanished into thin air, leaving no trace.

Combined with Ms. Medina’s words, it was almost certain that 47 was the “Bad Kid” who burned down the Archives, not only escaping punishment but also letting player Yamakawa Nobuhiro take the blame and die.

Generally speaking, NPCs would not actively design or kill players outside of the death rules, otherwise the game would be too unfair. Even if Yamakawa Nobuhiro himself triggered a death point, it shouldn’t have been a death by “taking the blame”… What was even more suspicious was Zhang Yiyu.

If her mission truly included killing the “Philanthropist,” then she could easily identify the corresponding person based on details. From the activation of the mission last night until now, such a long time, it was impossible for her to have taken no action.

Chen Lidong was inclined to believe that she only later learned of the “Philanthropist’s” existence, and the source of this information would definitely not be the system interface.

Only Zhou Datong and 47 knew about the special identity of the “Philanthropist,” and now Zhang Yiyu also knew, which most likely meant 47 had told her; and an NPC had no standing to leak secrets to other players.

Unless… 47 wasn’t an NPC at all.

This conclusion was too outlandish, and Chen Lidong wasn’t entirely convinced at first.

Until Zhang Yiyu furtively left the group, providing the last piece of the puzzle for his suspicion.

It should be noted that Zhang Yiyu usually stuck close to the main group; there was no way she would suddenly recall some crucial clue and go off to investigate alone.

Either she knew some information that the players didn’t through some secret means; or she was going out to find someone, someone who had disappeared.

The existence of team-up items was not a secret; although currently it seemed only the Sera Guild had a complete production line, other players might still be able to form teams through various means… Chen Lidong’s mind conjured up Qi Si’s various behaviors from the beginning of the instance until now, including that eerie phrase last night, “They are all dead, buried in the earth.”

Thinking about how he had been too scared to move last night, he sneered, “47, you really played us for fools. Seeing how happy you are pretending to be an NPC, I wonder if you’ll still be in such a good mood when I kill you.”

Chen Lidong had always thought highly of himself and had never been so thoroughly tricked. At this moment, he only wanted to tear Qi Si, who had deceived him for an entire day, into a thousand pieces.

He followed closely behind Zhang Yiyu, also leaving the main group, tracking her all the way under the cover of an invisibility item, and then ambushing the girl in the final stage.

“Tell me, what are you doing here, and what are your plans?” Chen Lidong caught the drop of blood from Zhang Yiyu’s neck with his thumb ring, staring at the red glow on it as he threatened, “This item is called the 【Ring of Truth】. If you lie next, it will turn blue, and I’ll kill you.”

Zhang Yiyu’s shoulders trembled continuously, and her voice also shook: “Si… Si Qi told me to find tombstone number 47 and open the coffin behind it.”

“He’s in the coffin?”

“Shou… should be…”

“What’s he doing in a coffin?”

“I don’t know, I really don’t know…” Zhang Yiyu felt utterly unlucky. First, she was tricked by Qi Si, and just as she realized it, she was caught by Chen Lidong as Qi Si’s accomplice, truly wronged.

Seeing Chen Lidong’s clearly disbelieving gaze, she hastily defended herself: “I only met him in this instance. He didn’t tell me anything, just forced me to sign a Soul Contract to work for him… But I just found out, he seems to have lost contact with me and can no longer control me…”

Chen Lidong stared at the thumb ring in his hand. The jade surface glowed with an eerie red light, confirming the truth of Zhang Yiyu’s words.

An inexplicable sense of superiority arose in Chen Lidong’s heart: that player named “Si Qi” really didn’t know how to treat people; he had to resort to dirty tricks to force other players to do his bidding.

Unlike him, who had Zhou Datong completely submissive, calling him “Brother Chen” with respect and admiration.

Chen Lidong looked at Zhang Yiyu with a half-smile: “You don’t know what Si Qi wants to do, but as a witch, you must know healing witchcraft, right?”

Zhang Yiyu looked pitiful: “I don’t know, I don’t know anything…”

“How can you not know anything when I ask? Are you trying to fool me?”

Zhang Yiyu trembled: “Wuwuwu… I really don’t know anything…”

“Forget it, you lead the way. I want to see what tricks Si Qi is up to.” Chen Lidong looked at Zhang Yiyu, who was trembling with fear, and pushed her back.

Zhang Yiyu flinched, looked up at the ghostly figures ahead, then down at the dagger pressed against her neck, and finally made up her mind, moving step by painful step deeper into the Graveyard.