Chapter 17: My Name Was Stolen

Li Yinan and Xiaoyu were already prepared.

They knew the incense ash would affect both sides equally, so they had retreated to a safe distance before Lin Kuo began sprinkling it.

As the two cups of incense ash were scattered, the other side, previously transparent, finally appeared before their eyes.

Just as Lin Kuo had suspected, the other side consisted of six people—five men and one woman.

They were caught completely off guard.

Under the dim corridor light, their expressions froze, then slowly began to crack.

Murmurs followed:

“They’ve discovered us, damn it!”
“What do we do?”
“Kill them! Kill all the intruders!”

Hearing that, both Li Yinan and Xiaoyu shuddered.

Lin Kuo glanced briefly down the stairs, then turned back and said to the girls, “Based on the pattern of the previous nights, they’ll need about one to two hours of preparation. You should use that time to counterattack. Kill as many as you can.”

His words came quickly, but his tone remained unnervingly calm.

“Kill as many as you can”—as if they were just some crucian carps waiting to be gutted.

“There’s incense ash on the floor. Don’t step on it—it’ll leave footprints and expose your position.”

Worried that saying too much would affect their morale, he simply added, “Call me if you’re in danger.”

Li Yinan nodded, grateful.

She didn’t want Lin Kuo to worry about them.

“Boss, don’t worry.”

Receiving comfort instead, Lin Kuo felt slightly awkward.

He rubbed his nose, gave the two girls a final look, and took the remaining cups of incense ash up to the third floor.

As soon as he stepped onto the third floor, a nauseating smell hit him.

The thick stench of blood and incense ash, mixed with the reek of rotting corpses, nearly made Lin Kuo gag.

His eyes instantly watered. He couldn’t even breathe properly.

But he had no time to adjust.

Every second he delayed increased the danger the girls faced on the second floor.

The third floor of the villa.

Unlike the first and second floors, there was no corridor here, no series of rooms—just a single, open space.

No electric lights.

Only the red moonlight spilling in through a few windows provided any visibility.

Scanning the room, Lin Kuo spotted several uneven shapes near the edge of his vision.

Narrowing his eyes, he realized they were human bodies lying on the ground.

The smell makes sense now, he thought grimly.

Judging by the blood and decay, they were long dead.

He didn’t see anything else of value in the room.

So, he forced himself to approach the corpses.

There were three bodies.

Judging from their height and features, Lin Kuo identified them as Zhu Hai, Wang Miao, and the scar-faced man.

The butler had apparently moved the bodies of the previously eliminated players up here.

He’d already examined Zhu Hai and Wang Miao’s bodies before, so he gave them only a quick glance and focused instead on the scar-faced man.

Liang Sihong had been right.

The scar-faced man had died horribly.

His mouth was torn open at an angle no normal human could achieve.

A peach wood sword had pierced straight through his mouth.

Peach wood swords weren’t even sharp—but the blade had gone through him with sheer brute force.

The thought of such a brutal death sent a chill through Lin Kuo.

He lowered his gaze.

Surviving the second floor might be even harder than I thought…

As the thought formed, sudden sounds of chaos echoed from below.

Frenzied footsteps. Screams.

Lin Kuo froze—and immediately turned back toward the stairs.

Halfway there, the screams stopped abruptly.

Not too suddenly, but enough to suggest a conscious silence—like someone realizing the noise might draw him down.

“I hope they’re okay…” he muttered.

Instead of heading straight down, he detoured to one of the third-floor windows.

The light here was too dim.

He couldn’t trust his eyes in this gloom.

He yanked back the curtains to let in more moonlight.

Then, after a moment of hesitation, he also opened the window.

The stench was unbearable.

Without some fresh air, he might actually pass out.

He slid one pane of glass over the other along its track.

Whoosh whoosh whoosh—

The rollers on the track made a faint sound.

His hand still on the glass, he suddenly paused.

The sound hadn’t stopped.

Then the airflow ceased—abruptly.

He took his hand off the glass and stepped back slowly.

Even with that small movement, his gaze remained fixed on the window.

The window he had opened… was now closed again.

Someone else is here.

He silently tightened his grip on the rinsing cup, ears straining.

The window in front of him moved again.

The glass slid along the track—thud!—and closed completely.

Lin Kuo didn’t hesitate.

He flung the incense ash forward.

But he was too close.

Some of it rebounded onto himself.

“Lin Kuo!” the figure he hit shouted, annoyed.
“Are you f*cking sick?”

Lin Kuo’s lips tightened.

Standing before him—clearly visible now—was the scar-faced man.

The man glared at him with bloodshot eyes, mouth grotesquely twisted.

“Can’t you feel the wind? I told you I hate the cold! Are you trying to pick a fight with me?!”

Lin Kuo wanted to say, Sorry, I didn’t know ghosts get cold. But he had no desire to argue with a dead man.

Seeing his silence, the scar-faced man scowled. “What’s with that look?” Then, suspiciously, “What was that stuff you just threw on me? Trying to test it on me first?”

He didn’t realize he was already dead.

Lin Kuo said nothing.

He didn’t want to remind him, in case it triggered an attack.

The scar-faced man kept rambling, a gaping hole in his face visible with every word.

“It’s already the third night. Just two more and we’re out. I’m gonna sleep for days when this ends. Oh right—where’s everyone else? Liang Sihong, Li Yinan, Xia Xinyu?”

Lin Kuo stared at him.

Then he asked calmly,

“Where are Wang Miao and Zhu Hai?”

The scar-faced man blinked.

“Who?”

“Wang Miao. Zhu Hai.”

“Never heard of them.”

Lin Kuo frowned deeply.

“What about Ah Jian?”

“Who?”

“Chen Jingjian.”

Again, the scar-faced man shook his head, completely unfazed.

“I’m warning you, Lin Kuo. Don’t mess with me. I can take on ten of you. Got that?”

Seeing Lin Kuo stay quiet, he grinned smugly.

“Scared now? Ha! Don’t play hero again if you’re gonna chicken out. Just now… I found something weird. I was gonna show you so you could analyze it.”

“Mmm. Go ahead,” Lin Kuo said.

The scar-faced man’s twisted expression twitched.

He pointed with a trembling hand.

“Over there. There are people.”

“Where? One or two? Men or women?”

“Two. Both men. You seriously can’t see them?”

Lin Kuo quickly processed the new information.

It’s Wang Miao and Zhu Hai.

That much was certain.

But just as he was about to ask more, the scar-faced man suddenly fell silent.

The fear on his face faded.

He stared at Lin Kuo with a cold, eerie intensity.

“There are three bodies behind you.”

Lin Kuo’s heart dropped.

The scar-faced man whispered, “The one on the far right… looks real familiar. Lin Kuo, is that body mine?”

A chill ran down Lin Kuo’s spine.

“The one who died was Chen Jingjian,” he said softly. “What does that have to do with you?”

The scar-faced man froze.

It all clicked now.

The clues, the memory loss, the inconsistency.

Lin Kuo had no reason to linger.

He turned to leave.

But just as he walked a few steps, the scar-faced man suddenly screamed behind him.

“No! That is me! I’m already dead! My name was stolen…“

Lin Kuo didn’t look back.

Cackling echoed behind him.

“It’s okay… it’s okay… Your name is Lin Kuo, right? If I kill you—then I’ll be Lin Kuo. Hahahahaha! If I kill you, I’ll be Lin Kuo!“

With that, he lunged.

But Lin Kuo was ready.
He shot forward in a blur.

As he ran, he flung more incense ash behind him.
In the rising cloud, Wang Miao and Zhu Hai slowly became visible—greedy, hollow eyes locked on him.

Liang Sihong once said: Humans are insignificant against the supernatural.

Even after Lin Kuo had made distance, the scar-faced man closed in within seconds.
Teleportation… It’s hopeless.

He calculated quickly.
Twenty meters from the stairs.
Three enemies.
All far faster than he could run.

Probability of being caught—100%.