Chapter 47

Chapter 47

The staff at the Black Tower were indeed optimistic; their trainees' insight and logical thinking were top-notch, making such problems a mere trifle.

"I don't think it's that simple," said the young man from the Command Unit. "That brief scene revealed so much information. Finding Grandma Jacar isn't that difficult." He continued, "The key clues were spoiled by the submerged wooden board before the iron gate. Connecting those with the dialogues, one could identify the suspicious characters in no time."

Considering everyone's mental resilience and the pressure of the one-minute countdown, discerning which was the monster might be a challenge for ordinary trainees, but it was far from 'high difficulty' for the officially dispatched ones.

So there had to be another trick up its sleeve.

Sure enough, Ji Xinghai paused only briefly before flipping over the doctor's card. On the back was the shadow of a black witch baring her fangs, while the other two cards faded into the darkness.

As the saying goes, all is fair in love and war, and when in doubt, one can always start from the angle of interest to reverse-engineer the initial problem.

Grandma Jacar, as a monster used to scare children in Slavic culture, primarily feasted on them. Therefore, the orphanage's greatest value to her was as an 'unprotected and easily accessible source of children.'

In essence, a pantry.

And this pantry was irreplaceable.

Why was that?

This was a peculiar orphanage. The old matron maintained its existence by selling grown children to black factories. She wasn't good, but she didn't sell the children for herself, which is why she had little money when arrested.

An orphanage with such unsavory secrets wouldn't dare to investigate too closely if children went missing. This made it convenient for Grandma Jacar to hunt.

This explained why 'children of a certain age disappearing for three years without alerting the police.'

Losing such a prime location would make it hard for Grandma Jacar to feast whenever she pleased. For this reason, she would sacrifice some of her own interests to ensure the orphanage remained intact.

Understanding Grandma Jacar's purpose allowed for the analysis of the four candidates.

Given that the orphanage needed the matron to sell children to survive, what motivated these individuals to be here?

Did they want the orphanage to continue? Why?

The gardener stayed at the orphanage because he couldn't find work after prison, and his appearance left him with few options. Yet, when trouble arose, his first instinct was to leave and return home.

For someone who had decided to depart, whether the orphanage survived or not held little significance.

Eliminate that option.

The housekeeper remained for similar reasons. However, she definitely wanted the orphanage to continue, as she had nowhere else to go, making its existence crucial.

This allowed her to tolerate the annoying children.

It also excluded her from being Grandma Jacar. After all, who despises their food?

The nun was a relatively complex character.

Initially driven by goodwill to help lost lambs, the reality of the orphanage's financial struggles and potential closure meant the children would fare even worse.

Thus, the nun knew about the matron's actions—sacrificing older children to fund the orphanage's expenses.

Now, with the matron arrested, the burden fell on her to sustain the orphanage, causing her considerable distress and leading to thoughts of merging with another orphanage.

Therefore, the nun was unlikely to be Grandma Jacar.

That left the doctor.

Young and accomplished, selflessly contributing to the orphanage, registering as staff later on, all to preserve this orphanage. His timing was suspiciously coincidental, roughly three years before the children started disappearing—either a saint or something sinister, too suspicious!

Moreover, he didn't reside within the orphanage, making it convenient for him to handle the children taken out.

These deductions flashed through his mind in an instant, as effortless as breathing or drinking water. Ji Xinghai felt no surprise at guessing correctly, merely looking at the card as the two-dimensional witch gave him a strange smile.

Viewers wondered how he could immediately identify Grandma Jacar, yet rejoiced at passing this stage. However, before they could cheer, the scene changed again.

"Hmm?" Sitting on a small bed, Ji Xinghai tilted his head, examining his hands. Despite the dimness of the room, he could tell they were those of a child, seemingly under ten, thin and malnourished.

He checked his clothes—a patched linen nightshirt, seemingly unwashed for a long time.

Ji Xinghai instantly realized something. He tried to locate his backpack but felt nothing, even the 'Gourmet Canon' was restricted.

"…" Fortunately, he didn't rely on this so-called special ability; otherwise, he'd be cursing now.

Ji Xinghai threw off the covers and got up, jumping on the floor and throwing a punch. His form was still there, but the punch lacked force, confirming that his physical condition had regressed to that of a malnourished child.

Of course…

With such elaborate orphanage settings and numerous NPCs, how could it let him pass easily with such high production costs?

Identifying Grandma Jacar was nothing. Facing a monster as a purely malnourished child and overcoming it—that was the real test the instance presented.

Viewers worried for Ji Xinghai, but such changes were insignificant in his long and complex career.

Just his body turned into a child, losing other aids, but at least his mind was intact.

Ji Xinghai surveyed his surroundings: with his abilities restricted, this small instance required more reliance on tools and strategies, and this room was his most reliable safeguard.

The room was small, sparsely furnished, with two storage boxes, a small square table, and a stool.

On the table was a chipped clay bowl, an oil lamp, and several matches. Lighting the oil lamp, he finally saw the room's general appearance.

More dilapidated than in the dim light, a door, a window, a bed, a small square table and stool by the window, cobwebs in the corners, and a rat scurrying quickly across.

The translation adheres to the provided guidelines, translating each line without additional explanations or background context, maintaining the original narrative flow and tone.

The two storage boxes were small; one contained a few patched clothes identical to the ones he wore, while the other held odds and ends that seemed salvaged. There were pebbles, shards of glass, thin hemp ropes, half a handkerchief, and remnants of bones.

He picked up a piece of glass for closer inspection; it was rectangular and about five to six millimeters thick. He ran his fingertips along the edge, finding it sharp enough to be useful.

In the live stream, viewers watched as the small figure sat on a stool under dim lighting, skillfully chipping away at the edges of the glass with a pebble.

A thin glass blade would easily shatter, and its sharp edges could cause injury, but in Ji Xinghai's hands, it behaved obediently.

With left and right strokes, the glass was slowly shaped into a sharp point. Then, he bound the other end with the handkerchief and hemp rope until it could be securely held.

"This is too crude. Can't Brother Hai use his demon blade anymore?"

"It's not just that. I think he can't even access the weapons in his game inventory, otherwise, he wouldn't be making his own."

Viewers had already deduced his current predicament from his series of actions.

Not only could he not use his shotgun or axe, but he couldn't even retrieve his demon blade. The Hungry Academy was indeed targeting him!

They should show those envious fools what being first place meant and the burden it carried. All their achievements as students were well-deserved.

"Damn it, we knew the Hungry Academy wasn't playing fair. After identifying who Baba Yaga is, they force him to fight her with a child's body. It's worse than facing the Weeping Angel Cemetery next door."

"What's the setting for Baba Yaga again? Will this glass dagger even be effective?"

"Doubtful."

Viewers with access to the internet took the opportunity to search for information on Baba Yaga. As a classic Slavic witch, her physical combat capabilities were unclear, but she definitely possessed magic and could fly and teleport.

She typically rode on flying stones or mortars, chasing lost children through the forest. Legend had it that she also had a mobile house with two legs, which obeyed her commands.

On the screen, Ji Xinghai had finished crafting the dagger. He tidied up the table, blew out the oil lamp, and crawled back into the small wooden bed in the darkness, pulling the blanket over himself and feigning sleep.

"That's it? No further preparations? I remember Brother Hai knows exorcism spells. Why not carve them onto the house now? With his child's body, relying solely on this crude glass dagger against such a witch seems overly confident."

"Perhaps he's afraid of alerting Baba Yaga. Once she's on guard, the difficulty will increase even more."

Tap, tap, tap, tap. In the sudden background noise, moonlight fell on the windowsill, casting long, willow-like shadows that danced wildly on the curtains.

The live stream suddenly fell silent as viewers held their breath, staring at the writhing shadows like living creatures.

'Snap!' A bony hand rested on the window, its long nails tapping.

Creak—

The metal latch on the glass window lifted itself gently and turned to the side, the window slowly opening. The curtains were pulled apart by an invisible force, revealing a bony arm reaching into the open window.

Bathed in moonlight, the shadow of a white-haired, emaciated woman appeared, holding a rough mortar in one hand.

She looked frail, yet when she reached out, she left deep finger marks on the wooden windowsill.

Using her spindly limbs, the woman climbed into the room like a large spider. Her hair danced in the air, clinging to surfaces like tentacles, filling the air with a strange, damp smell.

Mice hiding in small holes in the corner seemed startled, squeaking twice before retreating deeper into their burrows.

The child on the bed sensed something, sleeping restlessly and turning over.

The woman closed her eyes and took a deep breath, her face contorted in ecstasy at the scent of the child's tender flesh. Under the moonlight, her black shadow crept closer to the child curled up on the bed.

Finally, the white-haired woman stood by the bedside. Her hair writhed like a living thing, the air thick with a musty, rotten odor reminiscent of someone with unbrushed teeth, carrying an indescribable stench.

"Squeak, squeak." Suddenly, the mice in the hole emerged, wriggling on the ground before moving in a controlled manner toward the emaciated woman.

Ignoring the mice, she extended her bony arm, veins bulging like tree roots, ready to clamp down on the pitiful prey on the bed. But the prey suddenly opened his eyes.

With a 'whoosh,' a less-than-sharp glass dagger plunged deeply into the woman's throat, slicing through with such force that it severed most of her neck, exposing red tubes and writhing flesh inside.

"!" Baba Yaga grabbed the dagger embedded in her neck, her protruding yellow eyes glaring at the resisting prey. Yet, no blood flowed from the wound.

Her hair, like spider silk, writhed even more violently and grew rapidly.

The woman slowly removed the glass dagger. At the wound, veins and flesh writhed, entwined, and reconnected. Meanwhile, fine white hairs sprouted on her face, arms, and all exposed skin, rushing toward the child on the bed like a woven spiderweb.

"Regeneration?"

"This can't be! Baba Yaga in classical legends isn't like this! Could this be Monster Catalogue No. 352's Baba Yaga?" Someone with a deep understanding of monsters suddenly thought of a very troubling possibility.

"Baba Yaga has subtypes?"!