Chapter 6: Ted Bundy and Henry Lee Lucas

No one expected Lin Kuo to make a throat-slitting gesture at the audience.

Moreover, Lin Kuo was just a newbie.

In their eyes, newbies should be subservient to them.

The livestream’s bullet chat reached a climax:

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[The grass on the grave of the last person who acted this cocky is already two meters tall.]
[??? Does this streamer know what he’s doing?]
[Asking for death, I guess. Just waiting for him to bite the dust.]
[I’m never donating a single item to him in this lifetime.]
[If it weren’t for God S, I really wouldn’t have entered this stream. So mad!]
[Doesn’t seem to have much ability, but has quite the temper. Leaving the stream, not taking this crap.]

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Sheng Wen snapped out of his daze.
He raised an eyebrow.

Interesting.

If Sheng Wen hadn’t seen Lin Kuo’s file, he never would’ve imagined that the aloof and prickly Lin Kuo also had a silly and sweet side.

At that moment, a system prompt popped up on the livestream interface, blocking Lin Kuo’s face:

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[You have met the minimum time requirement for a room manager. Do you wish to register as the room manager for this stream?]
[Yes] [No]

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Sheng Wen was about to close the prompt.

His fingertip nearly touched the ‘×’ in the upper right corner of the box—but then he paused.

In the Walled City, aside from clearing instances to earn points, there were many other ways to accumulate them.

For example, being a room manager could earn corresponding points based on time served.

The job mainly involved banning viewers from posting bullet comments containing instance clues and monitoring the streamer for any behavior that insulted the Main God System.

His earlier bullet comment—no death doors—had actually violated the rules.

It had only gone through because the stream didn’t have a room manager yet.

Of course, not everyone could become a room manager just by meeting the time requirement.

Qualifications were also taken into account.

As the No. 1 on the points leaderboard, Sheng Wen didn’t care about the measly points earned from this role. What he was after was something else.

Becoming a room manager granted access to the streamer’s Walled City ID.

Walled City Chat was similar to WeChat in the real world.

Sheng Wen had been in the Walled City for too long.

Now that he had finally found something interesting, he didn’t hesitate long and clicked Yes.

Lin Kuo, still inside the instance, indifferently glanced at the bullet comments that were essentially curses.

Just as he was about to toss his phone back into his pocket, it vibrated with a notification:

“S has applied to be your room manager.”

Lin Kuo frowned.

The group had already begged the viewers for help several times, but to no avail.

By now, they were all dejected.

Li Yinan hadn’t held much hope either.

In her mind, Lin Kuo was the life-saving boss.

And based on a woman’s sixth sense, Li Yinan felt that Lin Kuo was no worse than the God S Liang Sihong had mentioned.

She had also seen Lin Kuo’s throat-slitting gesture just now and was a little worried about him. “Boss… what should we do next?”

Lin Kuo was trying to figure out how to reject S’s application, but the Walled City livestream interface had no option to refuse.

In fact, the streamer-side interface was extremely simple.

Besides being able to see the bullet chat, there were almost no other functions.

Hearing Li Yinan’s question, Lin Kuo looked up at her.

He had a younger sister himself, which was why he couldn’t stand seeing Li Yinan bullied by the scar-faced man.

And after observing everyone’s character, he felt that Li Yinan could be trusted.

Seeing her worried face, Lin Kuo put down his phone.

His gaze shifted from Li Yinan to Liang Sihong, and he asked, “Have you seen The Morgue?”

Liang Sihong nodded.

Almost everyone who entered the Walled City had seen God S’s The Morgue instance.

The video was still available in the Walled City livestream library, viewable in full for 100 points.

Lin Kuo asked, “He found the ghost on the first day. Why didn’t he do anything?”

Liang Sihong smiled bitterly. “Do you think it’s that easy? In the face of this kind of supernatural power, we’re the fish, and the ghost is the knife.”

The group’s expressions darkened.

But Lin Kuo said, “If that were the case, the survival rate couldn’t have reached 70%.”

The scar-faced man cursed and interrupted, “No, it’s not that. What’s the point of dwelling on this? Aren’t you so amazing? Analyzing the doors of life and death like a pro. Then think of a way to get through this instance!”

Lin Kuo shot him a warning glance.

After the man sullenly shut up, Lin Kuo continued looking at Liang Sihong.

Lin Kuo’s features weren’t particularly sharp—his years of feigned indifference had just given him a detached aura.

Under that gaze, Liang Sihong suddenly understood why Lin Kuo had earlier looked at him with that “no wonder you’re so useless” expression.

He knew Lin Kuo was speaking with a hidden meaning, but he still couldn’t grasp exactly what it was.

Liang Sihong gave in. “Just say what you mean.”

Lin Kuo shifted his gaze away.

He tapped his fingers on the dining table as he pursed his lips.

“The notorious serial killer Ted Bundy…”

Everyone turned to Lin Kuo, not understanding why he was talking about Ted Bundy at a time like this.

Lin Kuo suppressed his inner frustration.

“Ted Bundy had two main methods of killing. One was breaking into homes to murder, and the other was luring victims into his car.”

The group was even more confused.

Only Liang Sihong gradually became excited.

He understood what Lin Kuo meant and added, “To avoid being a victim of Bundy’s first method, you could reinforce your doors and windows and not open the door to strangers. To deal with the second method, just don’t take rides from others.”

Lin Kuo neither confirmed nor denied it, but continued, “There was also an indiscriminate killer—Henry Lee Lucas. He had no specific killing method, nor a fixed crime scene. His crimes spanned across all U.S. states, and his presence was even found in Europe and Japan.”

Faced with that kind of random killing, it was impossible to take preventative measures.

No one could guarantee that the person walking toward you was safe.

Perhaps as you brushed past him, he would remember your face and mark you as his next target.

Liang Sihong said excitedly, “The ghost in The Morgue had specific killing conditions! It took God S two days to figure them out—after that, no one else died.”

He looked at Lin Kuo anxiously. “Is that what you mean?”

With things spelled out this far, even if the others weren’t that sharp, they roughly understood Lin Kuo’s point.

Lin Kuo nodded. “It’s certain the intruder is a ghost. Whether it’s mixed in with us or exists separately, our first priority is to determine whether it’s a Ted Bundy or a Henry Lee Lucas.”

Whether it had killing conditions or killed indiscriminately—this distinction was crucial.

Liang Sihong hesitated, then voiced another thought. “But whether or not it’s mixed among us is also important.”

Lin Kuo interrupted, “Look at the window.”

Everyone turned to look. And in just one glance, the color drained from their faces—their blood seemed to freeze.

At some unknown point, the sky outside had gone completely dark.

In this instance, daytime was pitifully short.

They hadn’t even eaten lunch or dinner yet. And according to horror movie logic, ghosts always commit their crimes at night.

Which meant Lin Kuo was right.

Compared to figuring out if the ghost was among them, it was more important to figure out what kind of ghost it was.

The darkness outside dimmed the dining room’s light considerably.

Wang Miao’s teeth were chattering. “So, is it a random killer or not? If not, what are the killing conditions?!”

The scar-faced man had even forgotten his conflict with Wang Miao and echoed, “Right, right, right!”

Everyone looked at Lin Kuo.

Their eyes were filled with hope, as if he were a living Bodhisattva sent to save them.

They were all relying on him to survive.

But Lin Kuo had no such awareness.

He shook his head. “It’s too late.”

Heavy, slow footsteps echoed from the corridor.
Lin Kuo recognized them—it was the butler.

They had wasted too much time.

And the instance hadn’t given them much time to begin with.

Yet they’d squandered it begging livestream viewers for help.

Now, the only clue they had left was the six egg yolks on the table.

As Lin Kuo finished speaking, the butler arrived at the dining room.

Upon seeing them, the muscles on the butler’s face twitched uncontrollably again.

The gloom of the corridor and the dining room’s light cast a sharp contrast of shadows on his body, making him look eerie—his resentment more pronounced.

“It’s dark… I… I’ll take you all to the second floor to rest.”

Even this sentence, the butler spoke haltingly.

Lin Kuo kept his eyes on him.
For some reason, he felt the butler was afraid.

The dining room fell silent.
Everyone looked at each other but made no move.
The butler grew impatient. “If you’re not willing to rest, I won’t bother with you anymore.”

He turned to leave.

They now had no choice.
Although they didn’t know what awaited them on the second floor, the dining room lights had gone out completely—swallowed by darkness.
It no longer felt safe.

Lin Kuo stood up and glanced at Li Yinan before following the butler.
Li Yinan understood and quickly got up.
Once the two moved, the others followed one after another.

Chaotic footsteps echoed in the corridor.
The butler exuded an extremely unpleasant aura, so no one dared to follow too closely.
Only Lin Kuo walked right behind him, silently observing the man’s back and gait.

The staircase to the second floor was located in the room with the living room.

The second floor’s layout was the same as the first: a seemingly endless corridor flanked by closed doors, each carved with peach wood patterns.

The butler refused to go any farther after reaching the second floor.
He only said, “Don’t go out casually at night. Everyone, please return to your rooms to rest.”

Then he fled as if escaping.

Now Lin Kuo was even more certain the butler was panicked.
He was still pondering what the butler might be afraid of—while the others were already infected by this plague-like terror.

In the deathly silence, a strange sound emerged:

Da da da da da da da da da.
Da da da da da da da da da.

The scar-faced man, on the verge of breaking down, roared, “Don’t f*cking run around!”

Li Yinan closed her eyes, too afraid to make a sound.

The seven of them stood in the corridor.

Except for Lin Kuo, the rest were nearly paralyzed with fear, their legs weak.

No one had moved.

These footsteps didn’t belong to them.

Liang Sihong composed himself. “The second floor should be all bedrooms. Everyone, just pick one. But I suggest we pair up. That way, we can look out for each other and improve our survival chances. There are seven of us, so one person can form a group of three. Any objections?”

Lin Kuo wasn’t as experienced as Liang Sihong in this aspect, so he had no objections.

The second-floor corridor was filled with terror.

Coupled with the strange footsteps, Liang Sihong didn’t want to linger.

He added, “This isn’t the time to worry about propriety between men and women. The two girls should probably separate. After all, men are physically stronger. But if either of you minds, pretend I didn’t say that.”

Li Yinan, of course, wanted to be with Lin Kuo.
Lin Kuo had no opinion.

The other girl also wanted to pair with Lin Kuo, but considering the relationship he and Li Yinan had shown, she was afraid Lin Kuo wouldn’t protect her in a crisis. So she chose to join Liang Sihong and the scar-faced man.

Wang Miao then teamed up with the remaining boy.

After the teams were assigned, everyone was about to enter their rooms.
Before they did, Liang Sihong said, “If anyone has an accident tonight, please try to leave a clue—even a small one. It could help those who survive.”

Silence.

It was a good suggestion.

Leaving a clue would be invaluable to the others. But who could guarantee they’d have the chance in an emergency?

Liang Sihong sighed. “If I’m the first to go, I’ll leave a clue too.”

“Okay.” Lin Kuo agreed.
Only then did the others nod with sullen faces.

After speaking, he pushed open a door and walked in.
Li Yinan quickly followed.