Among the six, Lin Yu trusted Xia Yue more than most.

Frankly, the least suspicious was Chen Zhuo—that kid wore his heart on his sleeve.

Second place? Probably the fragile-looking Xia Yue.

But trust was a luxury Lin Yu couldn’t afford.

Xia Yue clearly hadn’t fully trusted him either.

Besides, maintaining his "arrogant genius detective" persona meant he couldn’t rummage around openly in front of her.

Yet rummaging was exactly what he needed to do.

"The letter mentioned crates—human crates with supplies, and wolf crates with weapons..."

Lin Yu scoured the engineering room. Beyond the generator, the space was cluttered with useless junk.

No crates.

Just the stench of diesel, blaring alarms, and decades-old dust that left him coughing.

"Two minutes wasted. Move on."

Stepping into the hallway, he inhaled sharply—then zeroed in on the door opposite the staircase.

"Now that’s a proper door."

Lin Yu muttered under his breath as he surveyed the castle layout. The fortress had two staircases—a grand spiral staircase at its core connecting all three floors, and a zigzagging service stair along the periphery.

The second floor alone housed over a dozen chambers and hidden compartments. With time pressing, Lin Yu had to prioritize nearby rooms.

This spatial challenge was precisely why they'd been forced to split into groups. Covering this massive castle together would have been impossibly inefficient, leaving no room for error in their tight schedule.

Approaching the heavy door, Lin Yu read its tarnished plaque:

"Kitchen."

Without hesitation, he pushed the door open.

The moment he stepped inside, a metallic tang assaulted his nostrils.

"Damn, when was this place last cleaned?" Lin Yu wrinkled his nose. "No wonder 'sanitize kitchen' is on the task list."

The walls bore dark reddish stains—what might have been long-dried blood. The floor was worse, smeared with grime and more suspicious patches.

But the countertops were the real nightmare.

Chunks of rotting meat lay scattered about.

And suspended from hooks—dismembered limbs, desiccated and twisted, vaguely humanoid but not quite.

A visceral shudder ran down Lin Yu's spine.

"What kind of deranged lord lived here? This kitchen looks like a butcher's backroom."

"Owns a damn castle but can't hire a cleaning crew? At least get a chef with basic hygiene standards!"

Lin Yu suppressed his nausea and leaned closer to inspect the dismembered limb.

Caked in dried blood and partially decomposed, it was hard to determine its origin. From afar, it had seemed vaguely humanoid—but up close, the proportions felt all wrong.

Not wanting to linger, Lin Yu quickly exited the kitchen.

As he stepped out, his eyes caught a brown crate tucked in an alcove nearby.

"A crate—and it's brown!" Lin Yu's pulse quickened.

The letter had specified: red crates were for wolves. As a human, those would be useless to him.

But this? This was a human crate.

He approached and flipped the latch. The mechanism clicked open effortlessly, as if recognizing him.

Inside: a vacuum-sealed loaf of bread and a bottle of water.

"Rations. Guess whoever left these knew the kitchen wasn't exactly... sanitary."

Lin Yu tore open the packaging and devoured the bread, washing it down with the water.

Sustenance secured.

He then hurried back to the engineering room.

Key point: He couldn't let Xia Yue know he'd opened a human crate.

Why?

Because while humans were the "good" faction, the wolves had a critical weakness:

They didn't know each other.

The letter had hinted at this:

"A wolf's disguise may fool even their own kind."

In other words, the two wolves were playing blind.

Thus, proving his "humanity" to Xia Yue served no purpose. If she were a wolf, she wouldn't attack until she confirmed whether he was her ally.

But as Lin Yu re-entered the engineering room, a new concern struck him:

"Why isn't Xia Yue back yet?"

Time was running out.

Lin Yu had been mentally counting—eight minutes since Xia Yue left. Over two minutes past his five-and-a-half-minute safety threshold.

Their task completion window was shrinking fast.

Did something happen to her?

He was debating whether to search the first floor when—

BANG!

The engineering room door flew open.

Xia Yue stood there, breathless, clutching a small can of lubricant. Her hair was disheveled, sweat glistening at her temples. Her white coat was smudged with grime.

"Sorry...!" She hurried forward, panting. "The oil was stored way up high—took forever to reach it."

Up close, Lin Yu noticed her flushed cheeks and how she kept tugging at her collar to fan herself. The picture of exhausted vulnerability.

For a split second, he almost comforted her—

Then he remembered: arrogant detective persona.

Cue the performance.

Lin Yu let out a dismissive "Hmph."

"Barely acceptable."

He snatched the lubricant and, with practiced ease, located the generator’s intake valve. The task was done in seconds.