SWBG - Chapter 12

He Nan reminded: "After using the magnifying glass, you might see some illusions. But as long as you don't use it continuously, resting for about a day will let you fully recover."

With the veterans either openly supporting or silently acquiescing, Wang Meng Yuan—stripped of voting rights—could only accept this sudden arrangement. Fortunately, the item's side effects were still bearable. Holding the magnifier, he crouched to meticulously examine the corpse and its surroundings before finally standing up on trembling legs, pale-faced as he shoved the item back into He Nan's hands.

He Nan stepped forward, grabbing Wang Meng Yuan's collar nervously: "What exactly did you see..."

"Blergh—"

A single misstep leads to eternal regret. When He Nan looked back, his clothes were already splattered with vomit. But he couldn't even scold Wang—after all, it was he who had breached their personal space first.

Wang Meng Yuan kept retching. Rationally, he wanted to stop this humiliating display, but emotionally he couldn't handle it—knowing a teammate had died was one thing; inspecting the graphic details of their demise was another. Especially when it was so... vividly presented. He'd resisted several times before finally succumbing to his physiological reflexes.

Gu Jing Sheng watched with some sympathy. After a night of digestion, all that remained in his stomach was water and black bread crumbs—just consuming that stuff had tested one's willpower and manual dexterity. Now seeing it expelled so... artistically, it seemed at least half of last night's suffering had been in vain.

Having resolved his primary bodily conflict, Wang Meng Yuan finally mustered the energy to report his findings: "I saw many bloody claw marks and some grayish-black coarse hairs."

He Nan: "Claw marks? From what animal?"

Even with the boost from a six-star item, Wang Meng Yuan couldn't answer questions beyond his knowledge base.

Yao Ruo Ling, however, had a guess:

"Since it's grayish-black coarse hair, perhaps..."

Baby-face: "Wolf."

Gu Jing Sheng: "Dog!"

"..."

Faced with this disagreement with the veterans, Gu Jing Sheng sought common ground: "Actually similar—both canines."

The baby-faced man seemed disinclined to engage, and even the usually gentlemanly He Suo Wen wore an uncharacteristically complicated expression.

He Nan sided with the veterans: "I also think wolf. Dogs couldn't possibly be this lethal."

Gu Jing Sheng countered: "A poodle, sure—but what if it's a husky or samoyed?"

The baby-faced man's gaze at Gu Jing Sheng was even colder than his expression.

Gu Jing Sheng retreated half a step, promptly becoming a hero who knew when to yield, switching sides without hesitation: "...I vote wolf too."

Now that consensus had been reached from phylum down to species, the baby-faced man deigned to speak: "Everyone knows about werewolf, right?"

Yao Ruo Ling grasped his implication, disbelieving: "You mean there's a 'werewolf' among us?"

The baby-faced man suddenly smiled, like winter's lingering snow melting: "Even now, you still think this is just a low-level instance?"

As Yao Ruo Ling and He Nan fell silent, Gu Jing Sheng shouldered the transitional role: "Mr. Shang means the instance's difficulty has increased for some reason."

The baby-faced man nodded: "In [Happy Board Game], this isn't uncommon."

...They can't even keep server stability? How has this shady business not been review-bombed?!

Yao Ruo Ling: "Assuming you're right, does that mean when night falls, the werewolf can freely kill villagers?"

Baby-face: "Not freely. There must be specific kill conditions—only players meeting them would die. But I haven't figured out what yet."

"Perhaps you have figured it out, but won't tell us," He Suo Wen said mildly.

The baby-faced man narrowed his eyes: "Are you implying I'm the werewolf?"

He Suo Wen shrugged: "I just think anyone could be. And your argument now obviously increases suspicion among survivors, creating chaos."

He Nan shook his head frantically: "At least us guides couldn't possibly be werewolves..."

Yao Ruo Ling didn't defend him, stating coldly: "Not necessarily. At least all your rookies are dead now. Logically, Cao Wan Yan and Liu Han Ru should've trusted you most—making them easy targets."

He Suo Wen sighed: "And Miss Cheng. I dislike suspecting you, but you are suspicious too."

"If I were the werewolf, you wouldn't need to worry," Gu Jing Sheng said. "Among the remaining players—even counting Mr. You—who could I possibly defeat solo?"

Reasonable and convincing.

After a pause, He Suo Wen said slowly: "As a formal player, you may have your own trump cards."

Gu Jing Sheng liked this hypothesis, smiling: "Then I'll take your auspicious words."

Yao Ruo Ling, who hadn't much suspected Gu Jing Sheng, now gave her a sidelong look—this girl was alone, weak, yet absurdly calm in crisis. She almost wanted to ask who gave her this courage—was it Liang Ru?

He Nan forced a smile: "Miss Cheng has excellent mental fortitude."

Gu Jing Sheng said earnestly: "I think you should relax too. We've all died before—what's left to obsess over?"

"..."

Liu Han Ru’'s room yielded no further clues. He Suo Wen deliberately stayed behind to close the dead man's wide-open eyes before leaving.

Cao Wan Yan's room did have a clue—albeit limited. He Suo Wen found a note reading "The orange fruit tree is", torn midway with a dark red stain resembling blood.

Gu Jing Sheng avoided looking at it too much, lest her long-cured OCD relapse.

Ma Cong's room was "rich" in contents, but frustratingly irrelevant—from eggs hidden in bedding to bird droppings on the floor, it only proved his tireless efforts to diversify his diet.

With time left after searching the cabins, players wandered around. The farm NPCs ignored them—whether due to unmet dialogue conditions or the designers simply not programming responses beyond ellipses was unclear.

Gu Jing Sheng had considered checking the main house's kitchen—if no clues, at least better food. Finding a sandwich in a [seemingly royal broken jar] would be lucky; scooping out spoiled soup would be worse than enduring black bread. But after two steps under Chef Sam's cleaver-wielding gaze, she promptly retreated.

Old Ivan appeared at exactly the same time as before. He Suo Wen, true to his word, didn't abandon persuading the NPC for extra transport despite the morning's events. Old Ivan readily agreed—whether due to He's flattery or post-baby-face incident enlightenment about peaceful coexistence.

That day, the carriage took them halfway up the mountain before turning back.

Two days of hiking left office-bound Wang Meng Yuan sore. He sighed: "Though not reaching the summit in one go, every bit counts."

Gu Jing Sheng nodded—extracting NPC benefits unscathed was the touchstone of player skill. Those who could were veterans—like the Shang-named baby-face, or the vision-impaired He.

Wang Meng Yuan: "But with so many colors left, which should we choose today?"

Gu Jing Sheng blinked: "Not many left. Most are confirmed, and we have one clue about the orange tree."

Wang Meng Yuan blanked—perhaps his earlier vomiting had depleted his brain's fuel: "Red is No.8, yellow No.3, blue No.2 confirmed yesterday. Then clues imply green is next to blue, but No.3 is yellow, so green must be No.1, then..."

Gu Jing Sheng: "Then from 'between gray and black isn't white' and 'between blue and black isn't orange', we deduce black is No.4, gray No.6."

Wang somewhat understood—gray and black trees were separated by one tree, same for blue and black. Since blue was confirmed as No.2, then black would be 2+1+1=4?

"Why couldn't black be No.10? Counting clockwise, it's also one tree apart from blue."

Gu Jing Sheng: "Then gray would be No.8, conflicting with red."

The deduction wasn't complex—just that consecutive deaths had distracted players from the game itself.

Yao Ruo Ling muttered: "I'd almost forgotten this instance was originally about identifying fruit colors."

Gu Jing Sheng comforted her: "Perseverance leads to victory."

He Nan added: "Since orange can't be No.5, guess among 7,9,8. Others can guess No.5's color—only red, cyan, or white remain. We have enough people."

Gu Jing Sheng glanced at him: "I think we needn't be so conservative now."

She continued: "Players don't need correct numbers—just eliminate wrong ones. With four colors, four numbers, and two known conditions, there are 3×3×2×1=18 possibilities. We can assign two people to No.5 guessing cyan/white, two for No.7/9 guessing cyan, and two for No.9/10 guessing orange. With luck, we solve all remaining colors at once. At worst, we confirm two."

—Since No.5 can't be orange, it's either cyan, white, or red. If cyan/white, we have an immediate answer. If red, deduced from the first two guesses being wrong. This method conserves manpower versus He Nan's approach.

She sighed regretfully—per Old Ivan's strict rules, baskets must be submitted simultaneously. Either submit one for color-matching judgment, or all ten at once. If only they could adjust based on mid-process feedback, success would be guaranteed.

"..."

Silence fell.

Gu Jing Sheng looked around puzzled: "Did I say something wrong?"

Baby-face and He Suo Wen: "No."

He Nan: "We'll do as you say."

Yao Ruo Ling said with complex emotions: "Next time we're in an instance together, I'll remind myself to let you take charge from day one."

More deaths of players... who is the culprit?