Chapter Thirty-One: There Really Are No Bullets in the Gun (4/4)

As soon as Liu Mengchao set foot on the second floor, he saw Ye Yutian sprawled on the bed, fast asleep.

Thud, thud, thud.

A flurry of hurried footsteps followed behind Liu Mengchao. Qi Xiaoxiao and her group hurried up the stairs. The moment they reached the landing, everyone's gaze immediately fell upon the firearms laid out on the floor.

The prize pool increased.

Current prize pool: 199,000.

Liu Mengchao stood in place, smiling as he watched Hirano Kouta rush excitedly to the weapons.

"This is an M1A rifle," Hirano announced, picking up the black firearm with palpable excitement. "It's the civilian semi-automatic version of the M14, which replaced the M1 Garand after World War II in the US military."

As he spoke, he crouched, pressed his eye to the attached scope, and exclaimed with fervor,

"The 7.62x51 NATO rounds are extremely powerful. One shot to a zombie, and it’ll be instantly obliterated."

Obliterated? Was it truly the zombies they sought to destroy, or the others in this house, just like themselves?

Liu Mengchao watched Xu Zhengdong with amusement, his hands incessantly rubbing together.

The unconscious act of stroking one’s hands was a self-soothing gesture, born of unease in one’s environment.

And what was the surest way to dispel such unease?

Liu Mengchao’s gaze followed Xu Zhengdong as he stepped forward, eyes landing on the rifle lying on the floor.

It was to take up something that brought a sense of security—like a weapon.

"What kind of gun is this?" Xu Zhengdong asked, striving for a calm demeanor as he picked up the other long firearm.

"Armalite AR-110 automatic rifle," Hirano had barely opened his mouth before Qi Xiaoxiao answered, "Or to put it simply, a sniper rifle."

Liu Mengchao knew that people instinctively tried to ease psychological pressure, such as the fear of death. Likewise, the fastest way to close the distance between two people was to face such pressure together.

In social psychology, this was often called collusion. When you did something illicit with another, the shared anxiety of being found out became a catalyst for rapidly drawing closer.

"For example, making harmless little jokes together."

Liu Mengchao lowered his head slightly, gazing at the prize pool before him. The numbers on the display remained unmoving, yet he could feel the tension, as if it were a drawn bowstring—ready to spring forward the moment he let go.

He looked up at the clock on the wall.

Night. 7:59:10.

Unconsciously, Xu Zhengdong gripped the rifle.

The stock of the Armalite AR-110 fit snugly into the hollow of Xu Zhengdong’s shoulder.

"Hirano," he said, without thinking, leveling the muzzle at Hirano Kouta, "how powerful is this gun?"

The moment Xu Zhengdong spoke, Liu Mengchao nearly laughed.

Hirano Kouta’s expression was truly fascinating.

His upper eyelids were raised high, his brows pulled upward and knit together, his lips stretched sideways toward his ears, chin tucked in. Even a first-year psychology student, if familiar with Paul Ekman’s work, could recognize this as the face of fear.

Hirano did not reply.

This, too, was a product of emotion. People often unconsciously slipped into alternate roles. Now, Hirano Kouta and Xu Zhengdong—one teacher, one student.

A student performing poorly would instinctively choose silence in response to the teacher. By default, teachers possessed the advantage of authority. Thus, they often did things that crossed boundaries.

Especially in tense environments.

With this thought, Liu Mengchao quietly closed his eyes, then sidestepped to shield Alice behind him.

He disliked scenes of carnage and didn’t wish Alice to witness them.

"Don’t be afraid. You assembled all these guns yourself—you should know them well," Xu Zhengdong said to Hirano Kouta, as if he were back in school. "I’ve always had high hopes for you as a student."

With that, Xu Zhengdong’s finger, curled around the trigger, moved almost involuntarily. He’d always liked to play little jokes on his students.

Only then did his words emerge.

"See? There aren’t any bullets in the—"

Bang.

The moment the word "bullets" left his lips, Xu Zhengdong felt a heavy blow to his shoulder.

But that was not his chief concern.

A sudden torrent of blood exploded from Hirano Kouta’s body.

Liu Mengchao watched as the blood, like a burst of sparks, illuminated the entire room.

It splattered the walls.

Liu Mengchao frowned slightly, glancing at the clock.

Night. 8:00 and... seconds.

The seconds were now invisible, obscured by blood.

"This..."

Xu Zhengdong stared in disbelief at the corpse of Hirano Kouta, now slumped before him.

With a clang, the rifle slipped from his hands.

He himself was no slower—collapsing to the floor with a thud.

Only then did the main system’s prompt sound slowly in Xu Zhengdong’s ears.

"Team member Hirano Kouta has died, failed to cross the River of Purification. Two thousand main system points deducted from reincarnator Xu Zhengdong.

Current Xu Zhengdong points: -2500.

After the mission, negative point holders will be eliminated."

Just moments earlier, downstairs, he had been so certain he could rely on this otaku’s skills to survive the horror film. Now—

Now he had killed him with his own hands.

Xu Zhengdong abruptly bent over, feeling along the floor, desperately searching for some evidence that this was all a dream.

"Can’t accept that you killed your teammate with your own hands?"

Liu Mengchao’s gaze swept across the room.

Shizuka Marikawa had already rushed to apply pressure to Hirano Kouta’s open chest wound, but could only keep futilely plugging the gaping hole with her hands, again and again.

The wound was simply too large.

There was too much blood.

"That’s a wound caused by a dum-dum bullet," Saya Takagi said, her face smeared with blood. At this moment, she seemed numb, "There are several spent rounds on the floor, each engraved with a cross. When those bullets hit a body, they don’t tumble—they explode instantly. Anyone struck is doomed."

As she spoke, she fixed Liu Mengchao with an odd stare.

"You know everything, don’t you? Don’t try to fool me. From the very beginning, you, Teacher Xu, Qi Xiaoxiao, Ye Yutian on the bed, that pair of scheming eyes—Makoto Ito and Li Xin. The six of you were in it together from the start."

A twisted smile crept to Saya’s lips, her blood-spattered chest heaving awkwardly before Liu Mengchao.

"I know who did it. I know who killed Kouta. I’m a genius—a genius!"

You’re broken, Saya Takagi.

Liu Mengchao’s gaze passed over her head, coming to rest on the other two men in the room—Makoto Ito, and Ye Yutian, who was now getting up, staring in shock at Hirano Kouta lying in his own blood.

How many times must it be said—shock and surprise are two very different things. The duration of shock lasts no longer than fourteen seconds, then fades after twelve. Any longer...

It can only mean one thing: he’s faking it.

Liu Mengchao slowly paced over to stand beside Saya Takagi.

"State all your questions. You can trust a professional polygraph examiner."

Heartbeats thundered.

Makoto Ito and Ye Yutian grew tense, uncertain whether they had misunderstood Liu Mengchao’s hints, or if perhaps they were the ones he intended to sacrifice.

Almost as if by telepathy, the two exchanged a look.

The prize pool increased.

A smile spread across Liu Mengchao’s lips—he liked the sensation of the rising pool.

Current prize pool: 210,000.

The clock on the wall, as if sensing Liu Mengchao’s intent, seemed to slow its pace.

Night. 8:01 and... seconds.

Blood slowly slid down the wall.

No one spoke.

Dawn was still far away.

———

As for Teacher Xu Zhengdong’s actions, it’s actually quite complicated to explain... I had intended to include it all in this chapter, but that would make it far too bloated, so I only touched on it briefly.

This concerns the causes of emotion.

To use the simplest example: if, when you were young, your father often teased you—though you knew it was well-meaning, you still got angry. When you grow up and encounter the same situation, your emotions will likely react before your thoughts... and so you get angry...

There’s much more to say, but I’ll leave it at that, hmph ˉ)唧

Almost forgot... this is the fourth update today...

That’s ten thousand words for today—this is the end for now.

Thanks to the outstanding donors: ZBYQ Youth, Guyu Wuchen, Pencil in Hand, Arc of Change, Bai Ya, Tale of the Starry Sky, Drug-Addict Ouyang Feng, Outsider 2012, bxeroxb, and Victorique 8!