Chapter 70: Dragged Out and Executed

Chen Fan covered his face, not daring to utter another complaint. If this script had been set in a palace intrigue drama, the inspector before him would probably have sneered, “You petty wench, how melodramatic.”
Chen Fan might have even retorted on the spot, “Your Majesty, please grant justice to your humble concubine.”
As the only one left below the police line, Chen Fan’s vote would decide who would ultimately become the speaker, and thus determine the course of the entire game to follow.
This realization made the burden on his shoulders feel suddenly much heavier.
“Player 1, routine check, only Player 6 is below the line, so logically, you’ll be in the Prophet’s first badge list. The rest of you, continue.”
“Player 2, civilian. I came up just because I don’t want to vote. Next.”
...
Chen Fan watched every suspect’s expression carefully, trying to read something from their faces, but failed.
“Forget it, just stick to the logic,” he muttered to himself.
All the speeches in the first round offered no clues—everyone simply claimed to be a good guy, an ordinary civilian, and no one had claimed any special role. There were only Players 8 through 12 left to speak, and Chen Fan figured that surely someone would jump out and counterclaim soon. There was no reason for four wolves to be above the line and none to reveal themselves.
Player 8, Kang Jixuan, finally managed to loosen the hemp rope a little, his arm deliberately rubbing back and forth against the brick to make a noise. “Trust me, Player 8, I’m the Prophet. Last night, I calculated and decided to check Player 10’s identity. The tortoise shell divination says he’s good. Player 6 is in my first badge list, and I’m forcefully going for the badge.”
“He’s really playing up the clairvoyant act,” Chen Fan sighed.
In the shadowy prison, a shifty, sharp-chinned charlatan with an eight-pronged mustache pretended to divine, muttering mystical incantations, before a copper coin clattered onto the tortoise shell, revealing the number and identity of a player.
What a scene...
“Player 9 speaking—not the Prophet. Let’s see if anyone else jumps in. I’ll just say one thing: I’m an expert with the Hanyang rifle—one shot, one Japanese invader.”
Chen Fan of course knew what the Hanyang rifle was: manufactured in 1896 at the Hanyang Arsenal, it had been a mainstay from the warlord era through the end of the resistance against Japan. Chen Fan liked to call it the “domestic AK-47.”
So Player 9 was clearly hinting that he was the Hunter. But Chen Fan couldn’t help but wonder, with a rifle that big, how would this guy take someone out if he was eliminated?
“This is the foreign concession. Watch your words. Guards, slap him twice.”
The inspector waved his hand, and two burly men behind him strode forward. This time, the unlucky one wasn’t Chen Fan, who secretly snickered. Lucky for that guy he was a man—if it had been a girl, she’d have started sobbing before the slap even landed.
The inspector turned his head and caught Chen Fan snickering. “Player 6, gloating over there? You get two slaps as well.”
“Damn, is there no justice left?” Chen Fan protested as he stood, but was quickly subdued and efficiently given two smacks.

*“Slap, slap.”*
“Inside the police station, I am the law,” the inspector said, lighting another cigarette and speaking earnestly. “The sooner we solve this, the fewer will die. Continue.”
Player 10, Kang Jixuan’s sister Kang Jixuan, shrugged and shook her head. “Brother, you’re just worried you can’t tell what I am, so you want to check me first, right? Anyway, I’m not the Prophet. Let’s wait for Players 11 and 12.”
All eyes turned to those two. Players 11 and 12 seemed to exchange a glance, then, without a word, both withdrew.
“Four wolves above the line, and they all chickened out? Not even one bold enough to fake claim?” Chen Fan felt something was off.
The voting round went exactly as expected: Chen Fan cast his vote for the sole Prophet in the room, Player 8.
Player 8 was successfully elected speaker, but the joy was short-lived—
*“Spurt—”*
A mouthful of blood sprayed out. Luckily, Chen Fan wasn’t sitting across from him, or he’d be drenched in gore.
“Knew it, saw this coming. No wonder no one counterclaimed. Badge goes to confirmed good guy, Player 10. Player 6 below the line is probably a good role. Four wolves above, the rest of you figure it out yourselves.” His voice was weak and fading. Kang Jixuan didn’t last long—his whole body collapsed in the middle of the court.
“Oh my, someone just died?” The inspector feigned shock.
Chen Fan muttered suspiciously, “Wasn’t there supposed to be a death in this scenario?”
“What kind of food have you been giving the suspects?” The inspector walked over to Kang Jixuan, nudged him with a toe, but there was no response. “Well, he’s really dead.”
A constable replied seriously, “Reporting, Inspector, the food is a week old, and the water’s ladled straight from the river.”
The inspector shook his head in mock sympathy. “Why don’t they ever get any meat? How can you be so cruel? Well, now look—food poisoning. Fine, get two men to drag him out. Don’t let him stink up the place.”
“Come on, since when does expired food make you cough up blood? This is obviously poison,” Chen Fan muttered, watching the corpse being dragged away, his face full of disbelief.
“Player 6, are you doubting my judgment?”
The inspector’s chilling tone made Chen Fan tremble. He turned his head slowly and shook it with all his might.
“Oh, very well,” the inspector smiled. Only then did Chen Fan breathe a sigh of relief. “Then your facial structure must be off. Let me help you reshape it myself this time.”
“I just want to say—”
*“Slap, slap, slap, slap, slap.”*

“Hmm, you look much better now. The bitterness is gone from your face, and my annoyance has vanished too.” The inspector paused, satisfied, and returned to his seat.
“If I make it out alive, I swear I’ll petition the officials to delete this scenario for good,” Chen Fan thought, his face so swollen he could barely open his eyes. He felt one step closer to becoming a breeding boar.
“Dead right speaks.”
Kang Jixuan took up the speaker’s badge, looking relaxed, as if it had been an enemy who died.
“Player 9 here. I’ll just say, I’m biu~biu~biu, you all argue it out, I’m following confirmed good guy.”
“Follow the dead man’s advice, stick with the confirmed good, end of statement,” Player 11 said tersely, offering nothing of substance.
Chen Fan counted: apart from Players 11 and 12, who hadn’t spoken above the line, the rest were all good guys, plus himself. The civilian pool was massive.
Now, with Player 9 likely the Hunter, Player 10 confirmed as good, the others all looked like troublemakers. It seemed like anyone they chose to push out would likely be a wolf.
“Player 6 speaking—if we’re going by deductions, I think Players 11 and 12 are highly suspicious. You four wolves all went above the line, then knifed the Prophet at night, betting the Witch wouldn’t save, or confident you could knife and block the badge list. Today we listen to Player 10’s vote. Next.”
Chen Fan, a casual player, couldn’t see any deeper clues. Everyone seemed to have agreed to “row the boat” together, each one more perfunctory than the last—no one spoke for more than ten seconds.
“Player 11 surrenders. Tonight, knife Player 9. We have a huge advantage. Don’t be afraid.” Player 11 blew himself up on the spot, exchanged a glance with Player 12, and patted the other’s shoulder before leaving.
Hearing a confession, the inspector leapt to his feet. “Guards! Drag this prisoner out and shoot him. If you reveal your accomplices, maybe I’ll let you all die together by the same Hanyang rifle.”
“I—refuse!” Player 11 rose calmly, striding off to his doom.
*Bang, bang, bang.*
Chen Fan heard the shots and thought to himself, “What a bloodthirsty way to resolve exiles in this scenario.”
“That’s it for today. Guards, take the remaining suspects back to their cells.”
At the inspector’s command, Chen Fan was once again thrown back into that cold, closed, and shadowy jail.