Chapter 220

Chapter 220: Chapter 217: "╭(￣︶￣)ψMo Yan said those words and intended to follow the example of the "Number One Player" by finding a seat to sit in.

He had just counted the number of people; there were precisely thirty. There were thirty seats for thirty individuals, which seemed to be prepared for them.

All the seats close to the Number One Player were already taken, so Mo Yan found one on the outer circle and was about to sit down.

"Don’t sit just yet,"

Su Ming’an held his shoulder, "There’s a problem."

"Ah? But the god-player sat down..."

Mo Yan wasn’t blind.

In fact, any player with a bit of observational skill would have noticed the suspicious rings on the seats.

But the Number One Player sat down.

The Number One Player, who would never follow the wrong path, who would never trigger a crisis in the instance, had taken a seat.

Therefore, as long as they followed the Number One Player’s actions, they would absolutely be correct.

Mo Yan thought so too. Since the Number One Player had sat down first, did it mean that this instance required them to sit in the chairs to begin, or that those who didn’t sit might be punished...

After all, following the Number One Player’s lead could never be wrong.

Quite a few people took their seats following the Number One Player. However, they kept a wary eye on the armrest rings instead of foolishly resting their hands on them. Others preferred to stand on the side and chose not to sit; their caution was greater than their trust in the Number One Player.

Lin Jiang was among them.

Although she appeared extremely timid now, as if a breeze could startle her, she just stood in the corner with her head down, and no one dared approach her.

Everyone was in the guise of non-player characters (NPCs), wearing the faces of NPCs.

If it hadn’t been for Mo Yan running into Lin Jiang at night and identifying her by the blood-red pattern mark, announcing her skill loudly enough for the other Players who hadn’t opened their doors to hear, no one would have known she was Lin Jiang.

But Mo Yan did call out.

This led to... Lin Jiang, who seemed harmless, becoming the target of everyone’s arrows.

Su Ming’an watched this scene, observing the Players as they chose their positions as if seeing the various stands people take.

There were those who followed the fake Number One Player and took their seats, some who stood silent on the sidelines, some who chose to huddle together whispering, and some who cowered in the corner, unable to lift their heads.

Mo Yan stood beside him, the young man with the claymore hesitating as he glanced at the "Number One Player" resting with eyes closed, then turned a hesitant look to the congenial big brother beside him, and chose to remain standing.

...If big brother wasn’t sitting, how could he sit first?

If big brother said not to sit, then he wouldn’t sit!

With that thought, Mo Yan stood his ground.

Then, he heard a burst of exceptionally crisp footsteps.

Loud, clear, like glass striking glass. After the sound, which seemed to be isolated from any human voice, arose, everyone involuntarily fell silent.

The "Number One Player" seated comfortably on the armchair opened his eyes slightly in a showy manner and looked toward the door.

A person wearing a thick mask and dark sunglasses, clad in a burlap sack-like wide white coat that made it difficult to discern their appearance and body shape, holding a lantern, was slowly descending a staircase.

Where no staircase had existed before, one abruptly appeared leading upwards, and this strange individual seemed to emerge from the fourth floor, presenting themselves before everyone.

...This must be the key NPC of this instance.

Like a guide, this person would likely inform the Players about the tasks for the daytime segment.

Facing the gaze of thirty individuals, he walked into the large classroom and then onto the podium.

Setting the glass lantern upon the podium, within the dimly lit sight, its flame became the sole bright spot before their eyes.

"—My dear thirty students, welcome to the White Sand Paradise."

That person suddenly spoke, his voice hoarse and deep as though his throat had been ruined.

"Today is your first day here."

"Morning has arrived, night has passed, and I am content. You’re all very punctual—my dear children, did you sleep well last night?"

He suddenly threw out the question, his masked head slowly lifting as though awaiting a response.

Silence reigned.

The dust in the air spun in the light, and the strange figure stood by the lectern, with flames in the lamp dancing like elves.

In the dark-tinted field of vision, the firelight traced over his white mask, gradually revealing a pattern of thorns.

"I slept very well,"

said someone suddenly amid the silence.

The "Number One Player," the focus of all gazes, sat up straight in his soft chair, a sharp glint flashing in his eyes.

"Thank you for your hospitality," he said.

The strange figure nodded, seemingly pleased with his response.

"...Gods really are different, so calm..."

Mo Yan, shrinking aside to lower his presence, whispered in amazement.

Su Ming’an: "..."

"Since you all rested well, let’s get ready to begin—the morning light has arrived, my children," the strange figure continued, his tone rising slightly with excitement.

He lifted his hand, which was wrapped in bandages.

"First, please take your designated seats," he said.

At that moment, number tags sprouted on the backs of thirty soft chairs.

Number one, up to number thirty.

Thirty tags suddenly stood erect on the chair backs.

The others took notice as well and began moving to their numbered seats, talking amongst themselves.

"Eh? We really do have to sit down, huh... I remember I’m number three..." Mo Yan saw the others start to move and immediately went to find his seat marked with the number three.

Su Ming’an stood still, unmoved.

"Big brother, you said last night you were number one, right? Number one is over there," Mo Yan pointed towards a seat close to the lectern.

But at that moment, Mo Yan noticed something was off.

Another player had taken the seat marked number one.

"Big brother, someone’s taken your spot..." Mo Yan turned to look at Su Ming’an.

Su Ming’an remained motionless.

...He had no idea what his number was.

He didn’t know if this was related to the role he was playing, but he indeed had not received any message about his number, and when Mo Yan mentioned it last night, he had simply made up the number one.

...But now it seemed his bluff was about to be called.

"You go ahead and sit down, I’ll look around some more."

He didn’t look at Mo Yan again, nor did he engage further to avoid attracting attention.

He pretended he was unable to find his own numbered seat for the moment, his gaze sweeping across the chairs. When almost everyone was seated, he found a forgotten seat and sat down.

The seat was "Number Thirty."

No one occupied it, which probably meant it was his.

...Even though he didn’t know why the system hadn’t informed him at the beginning that he was "Number Thirty."

The chair’s cushion was just right, neither too soft nor too firm. Sitting down felt comfortable, like lying in an armchair. But a sense of danger lingered in his mind.

He glanced at the suspicious bracelet on the armrest and placed his hands on his thighs, prepared to use Spatial Displacement to bolt at any moment.

If the nighttime phase was so perilous, he didn’t believe the daytime portion would be without danger.

He was the last to take his seat, and the other players looked equally uneasy.

He noticed Lin Jiang was number twenty-one, and her whole body seemed to tremble as she took her seat.

And the moment he sat down, the screen in front of him lit up.

The panel lingered in front of him for quite some time.

The other players must have received the same information and were all silent, as if looking at the panel in front of them.

Su Ming’an quickly read through these lines and then felt puzzled.

...Since everyone has a number.

Why does he...

And just then, the deep blue light screen flickered slightly.

Then, lines of blood-red text slowly emerged.

["Doctor" roles are 2 people; "doctors" need to empathize with "students" and "heal" them, so "doctors" are hidden among the thirty people.

"Doctors" can draw a genuine profile of a "student" every day during the daytime and make judgments, deciding whether they are eligible for "healing". "Doctors" may execute the bad students who have been judged as untreatable during the night.]

The rules were long but relatively simple overall.

Students have two paths: they can stay vigilant at night to counter the doctors, avoid being killed, and then report to the headmaster during the day, becoming settled "excellent students".

At the same time, they can choose to counter-kill the doctor, become the next doctor, and then have the opportunity to take the initiative at night, obtaining other unspecified instance conditions.

The second path is relatively risky because becoming a doctor also means they must make "judgments" about that file and then deal with people who have been judged "bad students" each day. One careless move, and they might be counter-killed, all for naught.

Su Ming’an thought for a while.

He was quite curious about how the judgment method mentioned in the rules—"doctors can draw a genuine profile of a student every day and make judgments to decide whether they are eligible for "healing""—worked.

Give a file to the doctor and then let them make a subjective decision?

From a "doctor’s" perspective, to directly judge whether a person is guilty? Whether they are a good person?

...Just hearing about this method of judgment made it seem flawed.

It fits the consistent standards of this broken game.

He carefully re-read the rules.

...Overall, two identities seemed to have the upper hand.

One is the student with strong abilities who can ensure they are not killed.

And the student who turns on the doctor on the fourth or fifth day to become the doctor.

On the contrary, students who were weak and unable to strike first, and those unlucky enough to become doctors on the first day... they were the most disadvantaged.

Especially those wretched souls who became doctors on the first day... Not only did they have to dutifully assassinate students every night but also ensure they weren’t counter-killed, making sure their judgments were not mistaken. Should they execute an innocent student, or if they spared a guilty one, they would also "be judged as negligent"...

Blood-red text continued to emerge, seemingly revealing the remaining hidden information to him.

——Please be a "good doctor" who is just, fair, merciful, kind, professional, and full of dedication, showing empathy for the students ╭(￣︶￣)ψ

Very well.

The wretch is none other than myself.

Su Ming’an finally understood why he didn’t have a Number in the beginning.

He looked at the white coat in his temporary props bar.

This white coat was found in the wardrobe of his initial room, hidden under layers of blue and white patient garments. Before, he had wondered why there would be a doctor’s coat underneath the patient clothes; now he understood.

It turned out he was disguised as a "doctor."

Hidden among the students, "empathizing" with them, yet possessing the power to determine their life or death as a doctor.

White Sand Paradise...

This place, like a sealed academy, also harbored the presence of a "doctor."

At night, this place was haunted by eerie creatures, with flickering lights like wandering ghosts, and a slight misstep could trigger the Instant Death Judgment.

During the day, there were oddities wrapped in bandages, their faces obscured with thick masks, calling out to them as "children," their tone laced with a bizarre fervor.

In rooms akin to large classrooms, the soft chairs had iron rings for securing criminals.

In their private rooms, notebooks lying on the tables were stained with blood.

If his guess was correct... Sёarch* The Nôvelƒire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Su Ming’an lifted his head.

Outside the window, he saw a blood-tinged dawn, its light slowly pouring down and illuminating the odd figure before him, casting the dark blackboard behind him in a bright light for an instant.

Through that light, he saw the twisted, eerie blood-red text on the blackboard, intertwining like the roots of a tree, like torn bloody thorns.

The strange figure on the podium slowly lifted its head, its eyes behind the sunglasses seemingly making eye contact with him.

...This so-called "White Sand Paradise."

Su Ming’an coughed.

The air was permeated with the smell of disinfectant, a constant presence no matter where you were.

In front of him, a brand-new interface was slowly emerging.

He waved through the fuzzy particles in the air, watching the blood-written characters slowly appear on the panel, his mind already pondering.

This "White Sand Paradise," its full name, should probably be called...

"White Sand Mental Asylum,"

Indeed.