"The rules didn’t say we couldn’t show the slips, did they?" Li Duo questioned.

"We can't show them, but it doesn’t mean we can’t ask." Bai Li adjusted his glasses, the narrow light glinting off the lenses. He proceeded clockwise around the group, studying each person's expression for any clues.

"Li Duo? Rong Rong? Zhang Bin?..."

The named individuals shook their heads frantically, desperate to dissociate themselves.

Liu Mang gave a cold snort, responding sarcastically, "If someone actually drew the offering slip, do you really think they’d admit it?"

"D*mn it, how else can we try to figure it out? Are we supposed to just sit here and wait to be killed tomorrow?" Bai Li turned furiously.

Seeing himself added to the list of suspects, Li Duo slumped, exasperated. "Why so defensive? What are you hiding?"

"Everyone, calm down; no one’s really going to kill over some game, right?" Lu Wanting tried to soothe them, though her own face showed growing unease.

It was clear her words held little comfort, especially after witnessing the Carpenter’s inhuman presence. Who would sacrifice themselves for someone they barely knew?

Hostility spread unchecked, and the arguing intensified; even a fleeting look could be seized upon and dissected. The situation hung on the verge of collapse.

"Let’s take it one step at a time," Zhang Bin muttered, looking resigned as he slumped back into his chair, his eyes vacant, chest barely moving.

Fang Chen tapped his fingers on the table—a sound swallowed up in the cacophony of accusations.

Seeing no one was paying him any mind, he slammed his hand onto the table. The sharp “bang” cut through the noise, and silence fell over the room.

"Tomorrow morning at eight, everyone meet here," Fang Chen declared.

Meng Qiyan looked surprised. "But doesn’t the added rule say we can’t group up?"

"The exact words were—'Everyone cannot group together.' Besides, the Carpenter did say we could try."

"Are you sure he wasn’t being sarcastic..." Meng Qiyan murmured.

"What’s the worst that can happen if we break a rule?" Fang Chen turned to Liu Mang.

"Everyone will die without exception."

Fang Chen nodded. "But the Carpenter seems to enjoy watching us turn on each other. If we were all eliminated at once, that wouldn’t suit his plans."

Yan Xuan chimed in, "It’s worth a try; gathering shouldn’t be an instant-death trigger."

"Alright..." Liu Mang pressed his fan to his forehead, frowning.

Seeing no further objections, Fang Chen summarized, "Tomorrow at eight, gather in the main hall. Stick together as much as possible; if we must separate, pair up for safety. We just need to watch out for that one person. If everyone turns on each other, it’ll give the offering an advantage."

Though dissatisfaction lingered, it was the best solution for now; no one could be sure what might happen if they ended up alone.

Everyone dispersed, lost in their own thoughts. Soon, the hall was deserted.

In the second-floor lodging area, every door remained shut tight, like hearts no longer open to trust.

Fang Chen paced in his room, mulling over the Carpenter’s words.

If they wanted to leave, to end the offering game, they had to find a way to dispel the fog.

This was the Carpenter’s home, his domain. The fog had to be connected to him somehow. Games like these rarely left players with no chance of escape—there had to be some clue yet to be uncovered.

The Carpenter seemed deeply attached to his wife...

With this thought, Fang Chen decided to check the attic again.

But as he opened the door, he spotted a tall figure waiting at the corner.

Yan Xuan stood leaning against the stairwell, clearly waiting for him.

As expected, Yan Xuan wasted no time. "Are you the offering?"

"No."

"Alright, I believe you." Yan Xuan stretched lazily, as if satisfied. Just as he was about to turn away, he paused, propping a hand on the doorframe with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes—a lazy, yet dangerous look. "Late-night thrill-seeking?"

"Do you know the saying about entering a tiger’s den?" Fang Chen didn’t answer directly.

Yan Xuan clicked his tongue, thinking for a moment. "Don’t go where the tiger is."

"Go get some sleep." As Fang Chen passed him, he patted Yan Xuan’s shoulder and headed upstairs. "I’m just taking a quick look."

There was a hint of purpose behind his casual statement.

The attic door hadn’t been locked since the previous night, still slightly ajar. Fang Chen pushed it open, the creaking "squeak" echoing through the room.

She was still there.

The red-clad woman hung lifelessly from the attic’s central beam, her body slumped and hair disheveled, her back turned to him.

Fang Chen instinctively touched his neck, recalling the eerie sensation of something soft brushing against him the previous night.

A beam of moonlight streamed through the window, casting a pale glow over her form, cold and sorrowful.

In the urgency of last night, he hadn’t had time to thoroughly inspect the room.

“Sorry to intrude.” He offered a slight bow before running his hand along the wall and walking the room’s perimeter.

But, as he expected, there was nothing to find.

Perhaps due to the closed doors and windows, the room quickly became stifling.

Fang Chen moved to the far end, pushing the window open and gazing blankly at the moonlight.

Today, both he and Yan Xuan had noticed something off about the Carpenter. When they’d first encountered him, his clothing had seemed a size too big, sleeves and pant legs rolled up, his hands bare of any adornments. But by daylight, the Carpenter’s clothes had fit, and he wore a ring on his left hand’s fourth finger.

At night, however, he’d reverted to his earlier appearance.

Why?

Lost in thought, Fang Chen failed to notice the corpse’s fingers twitching behind him.

"Liu Mang said the key to winning this game is solving the riddle..."

The hanging corpse began to turn slowly.

“I look through the window at you, gave you everything; why did you abandon me?” If he could uncover why, the fog might finally lift.

The woman’s body convulsed, skeletal hands clawing desperately at the rope around her neck as blood trickled from her facial features. Finally, her head broke free.

The snapping sound shook him from his thoughts. Fang Chen tilted his head to the side just in time.

The woman’s hand crashed into the window frame, bending it, and the glass shattered, raining down in shards.

There was no time to react. She let out a guttural scream, her clawed fingers reaching for his eyes.

"The Carpenter’s strange behavior is probably tied to dispersing the fog. I’ll ask him tomorrow..." Fang Chen murmured to himself, as if oblivious to the impending danger.

A sudden explosive sound erupted behind him. He instinctively turned his head left.

The next second, the corpse’s hand smashed into the window frame, bending it. With a loud crash, the entire pane shattered, scattering in all directions.

There was no time to react. The female corpse let out a piercing scream, her sharp claws slashing toward his eyes.

The threat grazed close. Fang Chen rolled back to the center of the room, grabbing a stool and hurling it with all his strength at the red figure.

The figure froze, momentarily stunned.

Does this thing have a physical form? That makes things a bit easier.

Wasting no time, Fang Chen bolted. His target was the axe in the tool shed. With a weapon, he might stand a chance—otherwise, he’d have to rely on pure escape.

Adrenaline surged through him, pushing him to his limits. Within seconds, Fang Chen reached the first floor, racing toward the courtyard door.

But just as he stepped outside, a grotesquely twisted face swung down in front of him, hanging upside-down.

Time seemed to freeze, his entire body on high alert as danger loomed close.

The corpse’s icy nose brushed past his cheek. Her mouth gaped wide, slick with saliva, as she lunged to bite him.