Chapter 67

Chapter 67

Bai Fuling watched the scene unfold before him, waited a beat, expecting a special cutscene to trigger—after all, the player had finally solved the puzzle and made it up here!

But nothing special popped up on screen. On the pixelated rooftop, plain bed sheets billowed in the wind, with the White-haired Youth and Luo Qingyue visible behind them.

The White-haired Youth, chin propped on one hand, squatted on the ground and slapped Luo Qingyue’s face with the back of his hand. “Hey, wake up, 022. Don’t just conk out on me. Don’t you want to play one last time?”

Luo Qingyue, slapped, had a tangled black thread icon pop up over his head, his mind foggy. He stayed curled up, like a giant koala.

Bai Fuling moved his character a couple steps forward. “This fire was your plan,” he typed straight into the dialogue box, so the system would register the puzzle as solved.

“The Crescent Scythe Murder Case—the real culprit is you, or rather, your organization behind it. This isn’t just some simple serial murder case.”

“Oh?” The youth lifted his head, looking mildly surprised, but quickly broke into a smile. “Why do you say that?”

There it was, the classic Q&A part! Finally, time to lay out the evidence. Bai Fuling sat up straight.

At this point, the player was wide awake—his clue bar was already stuffed with info:

Old newspapers, new newspapers, hospital rumors, colored paperclips, crayon drawings, lab data, body parts from the hospital, an unknown heart, NPC testimonies…

Farmer Great Detective mode, engage! The truth is always just one!

Bai Fuling’s character coolly adjusted the angel halo on his head and began his explanation.

“The Liao family’s Kate Injection experiments were completely under your control from beginning to end. You had a hand in starting, stopping, and restarting them.”

“Early on, the Liao family still had some pull, so you could only watch, offer advice, and guide from the sidelines. Later, when the Liao family tanked from medical scandals and rumors, you really took control and used it for your own ends, and later rebooted it.”

“A lot of researchers and doctors were duped in the process. To keep things quiet, you controlled some of the researchers. Like Pang Chengyu’s mom.”

“Luo Qingyue was one of your rare successful survivors—one with a chance to revert from beast to human, with consciousness. So you didn’t lock him up; you let him live normally for observation.”

“The Crescent Scythe Murder Case was a story about a guided, twisted serial killer you created to cover up the research’s truth—but it was actually your work. On one hand, you used it to distract the public and get the human hearts you needed for experiments. On the other, you could take out anyone who might stumble onto the truth or mess with the experiments.”

“And now, you guided and let Liao Zhiqiu set the fire because you wanted to wipe away the evidence here. This experiment is done, or at risk of exposure—”

Bai Fuling paused here. “Mr. Finch, and the Celestial Court you said he’s part of… So you’re bailing because they’re coming?”

The youth raised an eyebrow and said, “You trust the guy who nearly killed you?”

“It’s not about trust,” Bai Fuling said. “I’m just stating the facts.”

The player was now analyzing purely rationally, no emotional bias! Although he didn’t know what the Celestial Court Olbert was part of, he could tell the faction the youth’s organization was up against was hostile.

“You think if they come, it’ll mess up your experiments—they’ll search the place and follow the trail, leaking more of your intel. So you’re wiping the evidence,” Bai Fuling continued. “They’ve already found out the truth about the Cat.”

The youth squinted, then pouted. “Gosh, I suddenly feel like I said way too much to you back then… Strange, why did I say so much?” His tone carried genuine confusion.

An NPC questioning the scripted info delivery? That was a nice interactive touch—made it feel real. Bai Fuling found this response novel.

After all, logically, NPCs answering players’ questions was normal.

Bai Fuling chalked it up to the developers’ playful design and didn’t dwell on it. He then asked, “Oh, one more question—what exactly are you trying to do?”

At this point, shouldn’t the secret be revealed, introducing new lore?

The youth paused for half a second, then laughed in surprise. “You just ask like that? You think I’ll tell?”

“Can’t just say it? Fine.” Bai Fuling figured the truth might still need further exploration. Then he said, “But logically, you should reveal some new clues now—go ahead.”

“…Do you think you’re playing some detective game?” The youth raised an eyebrow slightly.

After a few seconds, he casually shoved one hand into his pocket and changed the subject. “Honestly, I’m pretty interested in you, big brother.”

“Why did you take a bullet earlier without a scratch? But later, our measurements showed you’re no different from an ordinary person.” The youth looked over, a hint of curiosity in his expression. “Why?”

“Because I ate three copies of *CEO Tentacles* to heal?” Bai Fuling said. “If you had that many CEO tentacles, you’d understand.”

The youth: ?

A red question mark popped up above his head. “What?”

“What what?” Bai Fuling echoed, puzzled as to why an NPC would ask about the player’s healing method.

Well, maybe it was for immersion and realism. But actually, the player didn’t need to explain in detail—and couldn’t.

Bai Fuling steered the topic back to the task, nodding. “I’ve completed my deduction of the whole incident.”

The subtext was: time to hand out the quest reward or settle the score. Bai Fuling opened his task panel to check.

“Cat’s Secret” progress: 99%

“Sweet Dream” progress: 99%

Both showed 99%. Bai Fuling felt a flicker of doubt: What was the remaining 1%? Where was the gap?

Before him, the youth stared at him for a moment, then smiled. “Do you need a compliment?—Your deduction was brilliant, big brother.”

“But,” the youth added, “maybe you won’t get a chance to share it with anyone else.”

He pulled his hand from his pocket, now holding a syringe, and jabbed it into Luo Qingyue on the ground again!

Bai Fuling: How many shots has Luo Qingyue taken now… That’s an overdose! Poor Cotton Spirit.

Luo Qingyue, curled up, shuddered violently. The youth pushed the liquid in, then looked up. “You got one thing wrong—a very important point.”

He twirled the empty syringe in his hand, pocketed it, and stepped back two paces. “—You think the victims were our doing?”

Wasn’t it? Bai Fuling was taken aback. A single slash to the throat, heart removed, no extra clues—such a formulaic approach seemed planned and purposeful.

Another explosion echoed in the background, black smoke thickening. The fire had spread at an incredible speed, and flames were already licking the rooftop’s edge!

Why was the fire so fast? Bai Fuling was startled for a moment. Wait, the game didn’t pause during puzzle-solving?!

Well, that must be a hint. Bai Fuling thought calmly, deducing from it that they had deliberately set accelerants. “There are accelerants in the building.”

The youth didn’t confirm or deny. He shrugged and backed toward the edge.

The heavy, rhythmic roar of helicopter blades sounded from above. Bai Fuling saw a gray, inconspicuous helicopter in the sky, lowering a rope ladder. The youth grabbed it.

Bai Fuling now understood why the kid was on the rooftop and why he wasn’t worried about the fire. He’d already planned his escape!

“The cases in the newspapers—we just helped clean up and cover the tracks, that’s all.” The youth smiled. “He’s left for you—we don’t need him anymore.”

“Goodbye.”

The helicopter roared away, the explosions in the hospital drowning out its noise.

Bai Fuling stood there, watching the kid disappear into the distance, and calmly snapped a screenshot.

Since the game didn’t save its own cutscenes, the player had to screenshot it themselves.

Then his attention shifted back to Luo Qingyue ahead.

A sudden gust of wind knocked over several drying racks, spilling white sheets all over the ground. Luo Qingyue, curled up on the floor, was half-covered by one of them.

The wind howled. After a moment, the white sheet bulged upward, and the person beneath crawled out, pushing the sheet aside with a hand—the nails on that hand were unbelievably sharp, even sharper than before.

Especially the index finger’s nail, which was longer than the others. It looked like—

Like a protruding blade.

Staring at the pixelated close-up of those nails on the screen, a thought hit Bai Fuling.

One slash to the throat… that “slash” might not have been from a real knife!

No murder weapon didn’t mean it couldn’t happen—if the body itself was the weapon. Even without such obvious deformation, the earlier level of nail transformation would have been enough to cut a throat.

Not far away, Luo Qingyue staggered to his feet, a string of dots floating above his head.

Through the pop-up dialogue box, Bai Fuling saw the character’s portrait: slit-like pupils.

His mouth wasn’t closed, because his overgrown teeth had pushed through his lips, tearing at the edges. The corners of his mouth were even torn, with red pixels—blood seeping out.

This extreme deformation was definitely a first!

It had never gotten this bad before, or Luo Qingyue would have noticed the tears in his mouth when he was lucid.

Because of too many injections? Overdosing never ends well. The researchers wouldn’t have done this before.

But now, they had ditched this place, ditched Luo Qingyue, so none of it mattered anymore.

No need to consider the test subject’s tolerance; they could just run one last experiment freely.

Bai Fuling looked at the person before him. The name above his head was red. That meant he was an aggressive enemy.

In this state, the Tranquilizer Gun probably wouldn't do anything, Bai Fuling guessed. And with this level of frenzy, would the player’s tears even have any effect anymore?

To confirm, he opened the character encyclopedia and checked.

All the information on Luo Qingyue’s page had turned into a mess of red crayon scribbles. No affection level or description was visible, and even the border glowed red.

Alright, alright, just as expected. This was the unavoidable boss fight at the end of the quest? The player weighed what weapon to pull out.

Before closing the character encyclopedia, Bai Fuling took one last look at the portrait—on that distorted face, there seemed to be a few blue pixels.

…Was he crying? Bai Fuling froze. Was he even still conscious?