Feng Yushu averted her eyes from Ning Zhe and remained silent for a long while.
Once she understood that a ghost steals identities through "perception," many past events fell into place: the deaths of Xie Sining and Gu Yunqing, Zhang Yangxu's experiences, and even Ning Zhe's pointed taunts of Ye Miaozhu.
The more she pieced together, the deeper her fear and chill grew. Viewed with her newfound knowledge, Ning Zhe's every inexplicable act revealed clear logic and definite purpose, each seemingly reckless choice underpinned by unwavering confidence.
He seemed oblivious to fear or confusion. From a detached vantage, he observed every death, applied pure reason to every bizarre event, unraveled tangled knots to find the critical thread, and sketched the room's elephant in utter darkness.
What sort of person was he…? The more she pondered, the more alien Ning Zhe seemed—too composed for a seventeen- or eighteen-year-old, perhaps not even entirely human.
"You deliberately provoked Ye Miaozhu until she lost control, letting the ghost target her," Feng Yushu whispered. "You tested your rule hypothesis on her life."
"Otherwise?" Ning Zhe smiled. "If I were the ghost, to trigger its killing rule I'd choose the isolated and emotionally vulnerable—most ripe for the taking."
Unless he dispersed the group, the wary would stay clustered, leaving the ghost no opening—and him no way to verify his hypothesis. Fortunately, Ye Miaozhu's impulsivity and emotion sealed the verdict with her death.
"Now that the puzzle's solved, we follow procedure to crack the rules," Ning Zhe said. He released Feng Yushu's hand, gently patted her tear-streaked cheek, and strolled toward a nearby house.
Watching his casual retreat, Feng Yushu realized: rules here are rigid, absolute—no gray zones. Black is black; white is white. This world runs on nonnegotiable binaries. Obeying rules is prerequisite to existence—even gods must comply.
She checked her phone: just past 7 AM, far from noon.
Ning Zhe entered the room housing the Serpent God's image. Feng Yushu no longer questioned him—she understood his plan, and he always had.
Imagine if Ning Zhe continued ravenously sampling every villager's Serpent God offerings: by midday, each family would bring their bowls before the image to find them already half-empty. Who could have eaten them? A stray cat? Mischievous children? Or…
Neither ghosts nor humans can dictate belief, so he must maximize sample size—dash from house to house, devouring offerings—to raise the chance that at least one villager, seeing eaten food, believes the Serpent God itself partook.
"One household—no, one person—believes the God ate the offering, then…" Ning Zhe looked up at the soaring Serpent God image, plucked a string bean with chopsticks, and chewed. "Then I might win."
It was an ideal scenario, uncertain yet his only path. In this rule-bound world, finding any "possible victory" was rare. Even if it led to an abyss, he must press on.
Treading the brink by night, walking on thin ice.
His face was calm, eyes lifeless as stagnant water—until his expression suddenly twisted. He clutched his throat, gasping in pain.
Minutes later, Ning Zhe emerged from the Serpent God's hall and, summoning Feng Yushu, headed to the next house.
Women sense nuance. Feng Yushu noticed his eyes rimmed red, as if he'd cried, quickly wiping away tears. Strangely, seeing his momentary vulnerability gave her an unfamiliar reassurance—proof he, too, felt fear and sorrow, wept alone, then masked it with stoic resolve.
"You cry?" she thought, her gaze softening.
Meanwhile, Ning Zhe was inhaling sharply—the "string beans" were actually green chilis disguised as beans.
"If I were the Serpent God, I'd deem that sacrilege…" he muttered.
They crept through Hejia Village's lanes, sampling offerings at each home. Though each bite was small, repeated visits filled him—and a growing teenager can't sustain such forced feeding. Yet to broaden the sample, he pressed on.
Vigilance accompanied theft: neither allowed the other beyond sight.
"Ghosts have shown they can 'teleport' within the village," Feng Yushu worried. "We can't let him out of sight—or next door might be his end."
Ning Zhe pondered another doubt: only the ghost puzzle was solved; his Serpent God hypothesis remained untested.
"What if I'm wrong?" he wondered. And if the ghost does nothing as he continues, merely awaiting his demise—what then?
Chapters in advance there: patreon.com/Thaniel_a_goodchild