Chapter Thirty-Three: All “Truths”
Liu Mengchao smiled faintly, stepping forward as he looked at Ye Yutian and asked, “Did you hear any unusual sounds earlier?”
The moment Liu Mengchao spoke, Ye Yutian’s heart skipped a beat. Was Liu Mengchao really about to abandon him? Ye Yutian kept his head lowered, silent, not daring to meet Liu Mengchao’s eyes, fearing that even the slightest movement would betray everything to him.
Liu Mengchao, however, seemed delighted. The reward pool before him was slowly rising once more.
Current reward pool: 221,000.
“Lift your head.”
Liu Mengchao’s words were as cold as a winter gale, chilling to the bone.
“How would I know?” Ye Yutian shook his head as he replied.
Liu Mengchao noticed that, as Ye Yutian spoke, his eyebrows arched ever so slightly—a clear giveaway. It was a telltale sign that Ye Yutian did know the answer.
Yet, what Liu Mengchao said next did not match what he had observed.
“Ye Yutian… you must understand…” Liu Mengchao’s words were slow, a deliberate tactic to increase the psychological pressure on the one being questioned. For Ye Yutian, the effect was immediate—his hands fell unconsciously to his sides, nervously rubbing his trousers.
Liu Mengchao laughed again. This was self-soothing behavior. People act this way only under immense mental strain. And it was Liu Mengchao who was exerting that pressure.
“When you answered my question just now…” As soon as Liu Mengchao began to speak, Ye Yutian’s head snapped up, his eyes filled with a pleading expression. This was, at this moment, all he could do.
Liu Mengchao shook his head and, amidst the terrified gazes of everyone in the room, smiled. “You’re forcing yourself to think rationally, but in truth, you’re only searching for a reasonable excuse to justify your first instinct.”
“I…” Takashiro Saya looked at Liu Mengchao with fear. It was not the first time she had seen his skills as a psychologist, but each time he stripped her bare with his words, she felt a bone-deep terror.
It was not just Takashiro Saya; every Reincarnator present felt that merely standing before Liu Mengchao was enough to make them tremble.
Liu Mengchao was thoroughly satisfied with their psychological state.
The reward pool rose again.
Current reward pool: 225,000.
He raised his eyes and glanced at the clock, its second hand obscured.
The time above seemed to whisper to Liu Mengchao: Don’t rush. Take your time. There’s still plenty left.
Night, 8:13 PM… and seconds.
Liu Mengchao gazed at the clock on the wall and scoffed dismissively. Seven more minutes—he intended to surpass 300,000 in the reward pool before then. Time, after all, was the most precious commodity.
With this in mind, Liu Mengchao turned to face another person—the one who had not come downstairs when the incident occurred.
Makoto Ito.
Just as when Ye Yutian had spoken earlier, his eyes had not betrayed him, but if Liu Mengchao hadn’t pointed it out, who would have noticed the direction of Ye Yutian’s gaze?
No one.
At this moment, Liu Mengchao himself was the arbiter standing at the center of the scales. Whomever he declared guilty was guilty; whomever he declared innocent was innocent. For sometimes, knowledge itself is power.
“Tell me what happened before the incident,” Liu Mengchao said as he watched Makoto Ito’s expression.
He was pleased—Makoto Ito’s face remained calm. Liu Mengchao enjoyed dealing with skilled actors; the more effort they put into their performance, the more he relished the sense that he was simply watching a fool’s play.
It was a subtle but unmistakable sense of psychological superiority.
“I…” Makoto Ito began.
The moment Makoto Ito opened his mouth, Liu Mengchao noticed the reward pool begin to climb. Was lying to him truly more terrifying than facing the undead?
The pool now reached 230,000.
Makoto Ito took a deep breath, his eyes fixed intently on Liu Mengchao, and spoke cautiously.
“I’ll only say this once…”
Liu Mengchao curled his lip—a classic evasive statement. Still, it suited his purpose.
“Very well, go on.”
Liu Mengchao nodded, allowing Makoto Ito to scrutinize him.
He knew that, contrary to what most novels suggested, people don’t necessarily avoid eye contact when lying. On the contrary, they tend to seek it out more, trying to gauge if their deception has succeeded.
But of course, the answer was no. Liu Mengchao’s gaze was full of amusement, like a wealthy patron in a private box, watching a clown’s performance with idle disdain.
“I’ve been standing on the balcony since six in the evening—I haven’t set foot inside the room. Around seven, I vaguely heard a noise coming from inside.”
Liu Mengchao didn’t even need to look at the system panel to know the truth—Makoto Ito was extremely nervous. Especially when facing him, the tension born of lying in his presence made Makoto Ito slip up.
His eyes were locked on Liu Mengchao, but his fingers pointed in another direction. In his desperate attempt to put on a performance, Makoto Ito failed to realize his body language had betrayed him completely.
“Hmm…” Liu Mengchao nodded slowly.
The reward pool surged upward.
Makoto Ito unconsciously swallowed. He was tense.
But, apart from Makoto Ito, someone else was even more anxious.
Li Xin’s palms were drenched in sweat. If Liu Mengchao declared that Makoto Ito was not lying, then she would be the only one left.
With this thought, Li Xin’s trembling gaze fixed on Liu Mengchao’s lips.
To her, Liu Mengchao’s words now seemed like a silent film—no sound, only the movement of his lips. Yet even from that, she felt herself sinking into a bottomless abyss.
“Makoto Ito is telling the truth.”
Liu Mengchao spoke these words, opening a door to hell for Li Xin right before her eyes.
Reward pool: 250,000.
From this moment onward, the night grew ever more long and silent.
8:15 PM… and seconds.
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This chapter was scheduled for release… By the time you read it, I’m probably catching up on sleep, sprawled over my classroom desk.
Many thanks for the generous rewards from The Tale of Starry Sky, the Mischievous White, Victoriqa 8, yangqiwei, Traces of the Wind, and Fearless.