X
“Still not willing to talk to me?” The sub-personality’s tone was tinged with helplessness, but it carried a stubborn persistence, as if it demanded Lin Kuo’s attention.
“Did I not make myself clear enough? My name is ‘Lin Kuo,’ born the moment you were chopped to death last night. In your way of understanding, I’m the new reward—also the new evil god puzzle piece.”
Lin Kuo furrowed his brow.
Seeing this reaction, the sub-personality pressed on.
“As the evil god’s five senses, don’t you have anything you want to ask me? Hm… okay, how about I share a secret? I can experience the world through your five senses—and I can also read your thoughts… including your death password.”
Lin Kuo pursed his lips.
He couldn’t deny what this thing calling itself a ‘sub-personality’ had said.
In fact, when analyzing which parts of the evil god were represented by Lin Zhi, Zhang Sen, and the Black Shadow, he’d already speculated that the next reward might involve the evil god’s senses.
After all, with everything else laid out, that was one of the few major pieces left.
What he hadn’t expected was that the evil god’s five senses could split off into a personality.
That’s right—Lin Kuo didn’t think a monster was living in his body.
This was a split personality.
He could feel it.
Lin Kuo was naturally quiet and unsociable.
He’d raised his younger sister from a young age, and because of his introverted nature, he’d suffered many silent humiliations and disappointments.
There was a time when he wondered…
If I had a more talkative personality—someone who could easily initiate conversations—would life have been different?
It was obvious now.
This sub-personality was that imaginary self—the one he’d once longed to become.
“Alright,” said the sub-personality, cheerful again.
“We both hate liars and deception. I won’t be the kind of person we both despise. I can guarantee that everything I say to you will be the truth.”
“…f*ck,” Lin Kuo muttered under his breath.
This sub-personality really could read his thoughts.
“Social death?” The sub-personality chuckled.
“As expected of my main personality. No wonder that brain-in-a-jar Zhang Sen couldn’t figure it out. He’s still waiting eagerly for your package to be sent back. Let’s see… where did you send the package? Huh? Even you don’t know. I was hoping to be the first reward to discover your death password… a bit of a shame.”
Lin Kuo, half-distracted, finally spoke—not to the sub-personality, but more like talking to himself.
“Fortunately, I’m not you.”
The sub-personality went silent for a moment.
“…”
Lin Kuo reopened the paper in front of him and began scribbling:
Lin Zhi — Power — Restricted range of activity
Zhang Sen — Cunning/Mind — Restricted waking time
Black Shadow (code name) — Form — Cannot appear in human line of sight
Defective Product — Five Senses —
“Main personality, I say…” the sub-personality began.
“Shut up.”
Lin Kuo ignored him again.
The pen paused on the page, the ink forming a dark blot.
To confirm a thought, he glanced at his phone.
In the livestream, the water friends were actively discussing the latest deduction:
[What does this mean?]
[Is the scummy streamer’s brain really this fast??]
[Ahhh my brain isn’t enough—how did he deduce that the defective product is the new reward?!]
[Weakly calling for God S]
[! Right! God S is still in the room—God S, protect me, I’m scared to death!]
Lin Kuo looked away.
Just as he suspected—no one in the livestream knew about the sub-personality.
Even the ‘customers’ of the main god system didn’t seem to have the authority to perceive it.
Presumably, the other rewards couldn’t interact with the sub-personality either.
But the sub-personality was clearly part of the “Death Password” instance.
Lin Kuo could only think of one explanation.
More importantly, he remembered the sub-personality’s exact words:
“Become the first reward to find your death password.”
Not “kill you with it.”
A small difference—but it held weight.
From this phrasing, Lin Kuo deduced:
The sub-personality couldn’t test his death password.
It couldn’t kill him.
Combine that with:
And what did that equal?
Lin Kuo wrote the final note on the paper.Thus, the content on the paper was completed:
Lin Zhi—Power—Restricted range of activity
Zhang Sen—Cunning/Mind—Restricted waking time
Black Shadow (code name)—Form—Cannot appear in human line of sight
Defective Product — Five Senses — Must obtain control of the body to be effective.
This effectiveness meant:
Only when the sub-personality controlled Lin Kuo’s body could it search for his death password, show up on livestream, or communicate with other rewards.
And thanks to the restrictions set by the main god system, even if it controlled the body—even if it knew the death password—it still couldn’t test it.
It couldn’t kill him.
Was the answer really that simple? Was it… me?
In conclusion, there was only one way the sub-personality could kill Lin Kuo:
By telling other rewards Lin Kuo’s death password, exiting the body, and waiting for Lin Kuo to take back control—
Then letting one of the other rewards execute the death method.
Lin Kuo thought that “the villain dying from talking too much” was indeed an eternal truth.
It was also the main reason why the sub-personality had earned the title “defective product.”
The sub-personality glanced at the words defective product and felt… deeply offended.
Although he could read Lin Kuo’s thoughts and inner activities, he didn’t show any signs of anger.
“What you’re thinking is all correct. I’m proud of you. So, my main personality, do you know how I can gain control of your body? To gain control…”
“Do you know?” Lin Kuo responded with a thought rather than words.
Even ghosts need to pick people with low yang energy to possess. You want to take over when I’m unconscious.
The sub-personality laughed.
“That’s right. But there are many kinds of unconsciousness. You need to sleep—I don’t. How many days do you think you can last? Even if you’re strong enough to go without sleep, can you guarantee you won’t be killed by other rewards the moment a new round starts? You’ve written so many fake but cruel death passwords. Weren’t you ‘chopped to death’ just last night? Once you lose consciousness, it’s my turn on stage. Looking at it this way, isn’t it particularly, particularly easy for me to take control?”
“And then?” Lin Kuo asked.
The sub-personality responded gleefully, “Praise me.”
“…No,” Lin Kuo refused flatly.
But his tone was a little unnatural.
Some of the sub-personality’s behavior was clearly dredging up Lin Kuo’s buried past.
His academic performance had always hovered around average to above average.
After every exam, seeing other students praised by teachers or parents, he had felt envy—a quiet, painful yearning for affirmation from adults.
Even if Lin Zhi waved his test paper and kept saying “Brother is amazing,” it wasn’t the same.
Now, the sub-personality was influenced by Lin Kuo.
It saw him as an elder or authority figure and desperately wanted his approval and praise.
The sub-personality grew petulant and shouted threateningly, “I won’t keep the death password a secret for you, even if you are my main personality!”
Whatever.
Lin Kuo tuned out the voice in his mind and shifted his attention back to the nearby paper.
He had fabricated 24 fake death passwords just to buy time to uncover the true nature of the instance.
With those passwords as a smokescreen, he had at least 24 days of safety.
But back then, he hadn’t expected that the rewards would piece together into an evil god.
Worse—Zhang Sen was now convinced the shipping address for the shower head had been faked.
He was just waiting for the package to bounce back.
The sub-personality tsk-tsk-tsk‘ed in mock sympathy.
“Between a rock and a hard place. There’s no situation more precarious than yours.”
Lin Kuo rolled his eyes and shot back irritably, “Correct yourself. You’re surrounded by me.”
The sub-personality caught the thought.
For a second, he was stunned.
Then excitement flooded his voice.
“Are you crazy? Are you really going to do this?!”
Lin Kuo didn’t answer.
He got up, grabbed his phone and the note, and stuffed both into his coat pocket.
Then he stepped out of the room.
While he had been focused on writing his analysis about stopping the evil god, there had been constant noise coming from outside.
Yesterday, Lin Zhi had violently smashed the door. Since then, the soundproofing was poor—everything outside came through clearly.
Now, Lin Kuo followed the sound to its source.
Sure enough, it was Lin Zhi.
Thankfully, this time the commotion wasn’t something unbearable.
Perhaps because Lin Kuo had returned home, Lin Zhi wasn’t in a violent state.
She looked… almost ordinary.
She was moving the small-leaf red sandalwood potted plant under the living room clock.
Lin Kuo wasn’t sure if she hadn’t noticed him or simply didn’t care, but she was focused entirely on repositioning the plant.
Because Zhang Sen had occupied her thoughts, Lin Zhi had forgotten to separate the plant from its iron stand.
As she dragged it across the floor, the iron stand clanked loudly against the furniture.
That was the noise Lin Kuo had heard earlier.
The scene triggered something in his mind.
He looked toward the balcony connected to the living room.
Then he turned his gaze sharply back to Lin Zhi.
Today was a sunny day.
People who liked gardening often moved their plants into the sun, then back into the shade once the exposure limit was reached.
But Lin Zhi wasn’t doing that.
Instead, she seemed to be avoiding the sunlight—repeatedly moving the plant to shadier spots.
But the house faced the sun.
No matter where she placed the plant, sunlight would eventually spill over it.
Lin Zhi was starting to look irritated.
Lin Kuo continued watching her carefully.
One of Lin Zhi’s hobbies had always been tending to plants.
Their house had many potted ones, and because of her heavy study schedule, Lin Kuo often helped care for them.
But…
In all his memory, there had never been a small-leaf red sandalwood plant in the house.
Small-leaf red sandalwood was famously resilient.
Just touching soil could bring it back to life—it stayed evergreen in all seasons.
It was popular with gardeners because it was so low-maintenance.
But Lin Zhi had once said she found such plants boring—“too easy.”
She’d never bought one.
So when had the Lin Zhi, with a restricted range of activity, managed to bring one home?
Lin Kuo racked his brain—and suddenly realized something.
That potted plant had been there since the moment he entered this instance.
He simply hadn’t noticed.
He had been too focused on searching for clues.
If not for the loud commotion today, he still wouldn’t have noticed the small-leaf red sandalwood that had appeared out of nowhere.
So now the question was:
Why was that plant there?
And what did it have to do with the instance?
The sub-personality piped up again, eager for attention.
“This is a tricky one. Wanna guess?”
The interruption snapped Lin Kuo back to reality.
He thought for a moment and then said to Lin Zhi,
“The bathroom doesn’t get much sun.”
Lin Zhi froze—then her eyes lit up with joy.
“Ah! The bathroom!”
She immediately dragged the plant and its iron stand into the bathroom.
Lin Kuo seized the opportunity.
He grabbed the emergency cash from the house and left.
First, he went to the security booth to return the 100 yuan he owed the guards.
The guards were gathered, gossiping.
They were talking about how the community’s cleaning lady—always the first to arrive—hadn’t shown up today.
Her phone wasn’t answering either.
They also mentioned that there’d been a power outage last night, the generator had failed, and the surveillance system had been down all night—completely useless.
No one knew if the cleaning lady had even made it home.
Lin Kuo said nothing.
After returning the money, he made a trip to a small supermarket near the community entrance.
He picked out a kitchen knife and a whetstone.
After paying, he walked further to a hardware store and bought the thickest hemp rope and a medium-grade roll of duct tape—not the best, but serviceable.
With all his items, he made his way back home.
He didn’t glance around as he walked. His eyes remained straight ahead.
Not until he entered the elevator on his apartment floor did he finally raise his gaze—to the surveillance camera.
The lens seemed to flash as he looked directly at it.
Without changing expression, Lin Kuo raised the kitchen knife in view of the camera.
With his thumb and middle finger, he made a casual flick—
The blade sang out with a sharp clang inside the elevator.
The sub-personality was amused.
“Isn’t this a bit much? Showing off to a walking CPU like Zhang Sen?”
Lin Kuo replied, “Without Zhang Sen, what can you do?”
“Hmph, don’t speak for him,” the sub-personality said.
“Telling him your death password isn’t my first choice. I’d pick the Black Shadow. It’s useless in most ways, which makes it the safest. Of course, if you create a new reward, I might consider handing the password to them.”
Lin Kuo: “With this kind of internal discord, does the evil god even know what kind of team it has?”
The sub-personality chuckled darkly.
“You forget—I can read your thoughts. Don’t try to bait me. I won’t lie to you… but I have every right to stay silent.”
After a pause, the sub-personality spoke in a tempting tone.
“So, don’t you want to consider getting rid of the Black Shadow first?”
Lin Kuo answered coldly,
“Not considering it.”
Lin Zhi, Zhang Sen, and the Black Shadow—Lin Kuo had evaluated all three comprehensively and decided:
Zhang Sen would be the first to go.
First of all, Zhang Sen had almost no physical strength.
Second, he was too cunning—he already knew the death password would return to the art academy’s locker after a certain number of days.
No matter how you looked at it, Zhang Sen posed the greatest risk.
And he just so happened to live upstairs.
Lin Kuo lowered his head and glanced at the kitchen knife in his hand.
He didn’t know whether a psychological attack would work on Zhang Sen.
But at the moment, he couldn’t think of any better plan.
He pressed the elevator button for his own floor—in full view of the surveillance camera.
Once the elevator arrived, he stepped out and walked straight home without pausing at the security checkpoint.
He unlocked the door with his key.
The sub-personality chimed in smugly,
“Believe it or not, that waste product who thinks he’s smart just because he has a brain? He’s already opened the door for you.”
Lin Kuo ignored him.
As he turned the key, the sub-personality continued,
“My main personality is truly amazing. When smart people fight, it’s all about who’s smarter. Clearly, in this match, my main personality is in the lead. You guessed Zhang Sen would try to bait you into killing him by making it easy—but he didn’t know you had already figured out his restriction conditions and planned to strike when he was under restriction.”
The sub-personality didn’t hold back his praise.
“Great! Perfect! Nice!”
“Be quiet,” Lin Kuo said.
Click.
The door unlocked.
Inside, Lin Zhi stood by the entryway. She had already confirmed that the small-leaf red sandalwood wouldn’t be exposed to sunlight in the bathroom.
Now she was glaring at Lin Kuo venomously.
“Ge, you ran off without saying a word. Were you trying to hide the death password outside?”
Lin Kuo glanced past her and into the house.
The living room clock read 10:00 AM sharp.
He did a quick mental timeline:
At around 4 AM last night, when Lin Zhi was mincing meat, Zhang Sen had called out to him from upstairs.
So Zhang Sen had been awake from midnight to 4 AM.
At 8 AM yesterday, Lin Kuo had gone to the art academy—and Zhang Sen had been spying on him through surveillance.
So from 4 AM to 8 AM, Zhang Sen must’ve been asleep.
From 8 AM to 5 PM, Lin Kuo had been interacting with Zhang Sen, who was fully awake.
That left 5 PM to midnight as Zhang Sen’s next sleeping period.
Lin Kuo mentally summarized:
It wasn’t a huge window—only 3 hours more than a normal 8-hour sleep cycle.
But for Lin Kuo, it was enough.
He looked back at Lin Zhi.
“The death password is gone. I went to find it. Didn’t I promise to die in your hands?”
Lin Zhi was thrown off by the response.
Lin Kuo entered the house and washed his hands before heading into the kitchen to cook.
Knowing that a tough battle was coming after 5 PM, he made himself a proper meal—something nourishing, heavy with carbs.
After eating, washing up, and putting away all the pots and pans, he sat down to sharpen the kitchen knife.
Lin Zhi stood nearby, watching him.
Maybe it was because this instance required too much acting and lying—Lin Kuo’s sweet talk had become more practiced, more convincing.
“Sharpening the knife for you.”
Lin Zhi tilted her head in confusion, then smiled happily—as if Lin Kuo had promised her something wonderful.
“Ge, then you have to sharpen it very sharply.”
“Okay.”
Lin Kuo’s tone was flat. Calm.
No joy, no sorrow.
He focused on the whetstone, sharpening the knife until 4:30 PM.
Then he stopped.
He’d been sitting for too long. His back was sore.
He stood up and did some stretches, then glanced at the clock.
4:45 PM.
Time to kill Zhang Sen.
He returned to the bedroom and changed into a clean, well-fitted outfit.
As he walked to the door, he casually said,
“I think I remember where I dropped the death password. I’ll go find it for you.”
Lin Zhi was thrilled. Her long tongue curled mid-air.
“Then hurry back!”
“Mm.”
There were still about ten minutes before Zhang Sen entered his next sleep window.
Lin Kuo took the emergency stairs to avoid corridor surveillance and climbed up to the floor above.
Just like the sub-personality had predicted—
Zhang Sen’s door was wide open.
Lin Kuo stopped in front of it and scanned the interior.
The house was quiet. The curtains were drawn. The lights were off.
Only a few small fluorescent bulbs lit the space faintly, casting dim glows that couldn’t push away the gloom.
The sub-personality whispered,
“Looks like he’s prepared too. I’m honestly a little excited to see your game with them.”
Lin Kuo frowned.
He didn’t enter immediately.
Instead, after some thought, he pulled out his phone and sent a message to Ah Wen.
[Lin Kuo]: Ah Wen
[Lin Kuo]: Can I ask you for a favor?
The reply came almost instantly:
[Like Sweet Wind]: Brother, of course!
[Like Sweet Wind]: It’s my honor.
Before Lin Kuo could even send a thank you, a video call came in.
He exhaled—relieved.
Truly, communicating with Ah Wen was simple and comfortable.
Unlike the sub-personality, who didn’t inherit the evil god’s brain and kept leaking information by accident.
Just now, he had said “they.”
That meant—besides Zhang Sen, the Black Shadow was here too.
And the Black Shadow’s restriction was: “cannot appear in human line of sight.”
A video call with Ah Wen…
Just like using a livestream to test ghost rules in a low-level instance—it would force the Black Shadow into hiding.
He was exploiting a rule loophole.
The sub-personality groaned.
“Ugh, I really am tempted to accept the title of ‘defective product.’ I’ve leaked too many clues in the short time I’ve known you. But to think you’d come up with this workaround… I don’t even know what to say. The Black Shadow did appear in front of the live stream last night, after all… Tsk. Your logic is far-fetched but workable.“
He was right.
The livestream audience had seen the Black Shadow, but their gaze had no real effect on it.
Now, with Ah Wen’s camera acting as a proxy eye, the Black Shadow could no longer appear freely.
Sheng Wen, on the other end, naturally understood the plan.
Though his surroundings were even darker than Zhang Sen’s, he didn’t hesitate to help.
He should’ve known better than to assign that “heart-to-heart talk” punishment to Lin Kuo last time.
Instead of deep bonding, all he got was suffering.
“Brother… I’m watching you. Be careful,” Sheng Wen said.
For a few seconds, the bullet comments froze.
The audience in the stream collectively short-circuited:
[Who is this?]
[Wait… is that ‘Like Sweet Wind’?]
[‘Like Sweet Wind’ is a guy?! HOLY—]
[I was really tense before… thank you, ‘Like Sweet Wind,’ for giving me emotional whiplash.]
[What’s so complicated? ‘Like Sweet Wind’ = dedicated tool character, confirmed.]
Lin Kuo didn’t care about what was happening in the chat.
Phone in hand, he stepped inside.
Zhang Sen’s home resembled a surveillance hub—
Multiple monitors, some showing flickers of movement.
Two or three computers. Several security feeds.
The monitor directly in Lin Kuo’s line of sight was scrolling with dense lines of code.
He couldn’t understand any of it. But even so, it looked impressive.
The floor was scattered with discarded express boxes.
Under the faint corridor light, Lin Kuo could make out the shipping labels.
On every box, it said:
Lin Kuo
Below that, a line of tiny printed words:
“Look to your left.”
Lin Kuo looked to his left.
In the darkness, Zhang Sen’s ferocious laughter rang out, and the wooden stick in his hand came swinging at Lin Kuo.
But Lin Kuo had been prepared.
Knowing Zhang Sen lacked strength and was about to enter his sleep state, Lin Kuo simply blocked the blow with his arm and easily snatched the stick away.
He realized—the stick was thick and heavy. Zhang Sen had seen Lin Kuo provoking him through surveillance, deliberately left the door open to lure him in, and was planning to knock him out and wait until after midnight to reassign a new death password.
Lin Kuo didn’t hesitate.
He swung the stick back with full force.
He didn’t know how much strength he’d used—only that the base of his thumb had gone numb.
Thud.
A body hit the floor in the dark. The stirred air brushed against the hem of Lin Kuo’s clothes.
He turned, shut the door, and felt along the wall for the light switch.
Pa—
Bright light filled the room.
Lin Kuo squinted until his eyes adjusted before looking down at Zhang Sen.
Zhang Sen lay twitching on the ground.
His forehead had caved in, but no blood seeped from the wound.
His body twisted spasmodically, but his face showed no pain.
His eyes rolled in their sockets. He grinned viciously.
“Why?! Why did you look to the left?!”
Lin Kuo glanced down and kicked an express box at his feet.
A silent response—Wasn’t I just following your instructions?
Zhang Sen was furious.
“No! You’re a smart person—shouldn’t you be on guard?! Didn’t your mother teach you not to believe people’s words so easily?!”
Lin Kuo’s face darkened.
Then, he quietly lifted the kitchen knife in his other hand.
Zhang Sen: “…”
“I’m sorry,” Lin Kuo murmured.
His misty pupils gazed downward.
“My mother passed away early. She didn’t have time to teach me.”
From the video call, Sheng Wen let out a faint sigh.
He thought, It’s okay. I’ll teach you in the future.
Lin Kuo, unable to hear that promise, raised the kitchen knife and struck repeatedly.
Fortunately, no blood appeared around Zhang Sen’s body.
That helped ease Lin Kuo’s psychological burden.
After several chops, Zhang Sen stopped moving.
Lin Kuo nudged him with his foot, then glanced around the room for a clock.
The surveillance monitors showed the time—16:58.
Not yet 17:00.
Zhang Sen hadn’t entered his sleep state yet, but now he was completely motionless—as if truly dead.
From entering the apartment to killing Zhang Sen had taken only eight minutes.
It felt too easy.
Lin Kuo felt a flicker of unease.
He asked the person in the video call,
“Ah Wen, what time is it?”
“Seventeen o’clock.”
Sheng Wen knew Lin Kuo wanted precision. Instead of saying ‘five,’ he gave the exact hour—to clearly distinguish afternoon from morning.
“Thank you.”
Lin Kuo stared down at the body.
If Zhang Sen stopped moving before 17:00, he was truly dead.
If he remained motionless after, it was possible he had simply entered sleep mode.
He checked the screen again.
16:59.
Lin Kuo frowned.
The situation was tricky.
With the time so close to the threshold, he couldn’t confirm if Zhang Sen had died or was just sleeping. And Zhang Sen was cunning—he might be playing dead.
So Lin Kuo hacked him a few more times.
If Zhang Sen was pretending, this would make him pretend forever.
If he was already dead, well—better safe than sorry.
The sub-personality’s jaw dropped.
“My main personality has such a violent side—it’s a bit scary. I mean, I don’t like that self-important waste either, but this is brutal. I can’t watch anymore. He’s really dead, okay? Don’t torture him—and don’t torture yourself. You should be thinking about me now. It’s 5 o’clock. Seven hours left before the new beginning. The Black Shadow won’t leave. Are you going to keep the video call on the whole time? You’ve already borrowed so many points from Ah Wen. Planning to go into debt forever?”
Lin Kuo’s face clouded slightly.
A trace of hesitation appeared between his brows.
Sheng Wen noticed it instantly.
He’d already suspected something was off with Lin Kuo—his muttering during the livestream, the impossible deductions about the fourth puzzle’s restriction…
Now, seeing that faint expression, he understood everything.
He lowered his voice.
“Brother… don’t turn off the video call.“
Lin Kuo blinked and looked at the phone.
Sheng Wen asked gently,
“What’s wrong?”
Lin Kuo said honestly,
“I think your voice sounds familiar. Like… I’ve heard it somewhere before.”
Sheng Wen: “…Ahem. Reminder—it’s not our first voice or video call.”
Lin Kuo: “…Oh.”
Sheng Wen added,
“Don’t worry about the points. Keep the call on. Be good.”
Those two words—“be good”—made Lin Kuo’s ears itch faintly.
“…Okay.”
The sub-personality butted in.
“I’ll interrupt. I know they say it’s better to demolish ten temples than ruin one marriage, but this is not the time for love-talk! Even if Mr. Earpregnancy Voice wants to stay on video with you forever, the new beginning doesn’t just come at midnight. As long as the death password isn’t eliminated, there will be a reset. What then? You’re in danger! Can you have some sense of self-preservation? I’m not as weak as you think!”
He repeated himself three times for emphasis.
Lin Kuo rubbed his ear and said to the shadowy figure in the video,
“I… I won’t waste too many of your points.”
This instance would likely end soon.
The man on the other end replied softly,
“Mm. Not a waste.”
“Thank you.”
Lin Kuo then lifted Zhang Sen, light as a feather, and carried him to the bathroom.
He tossed him into the tub and shut the bathroom door.
Then he fetched a chair, brought it to the bedroom, and locked the door from the inside.
He sat down and pulled out the hemp rope and tape he had bought that morning.
He laid the tape across the bed, tied himself up, and used his jaw to finish the final complicated knot.
Then he leaned forward, placed his mouth to the tape, and sealed it shut.
He didn’t notice the slight eyebrow raise from Sheng Wen on the video screen.
Now fully bound, Lin Kuo relaxed his body and prepared to sleep.
Before closing his eyes, he glanced one last time at his phone.
With Ah Wen’s gaze on him, the Black Shadow couldn’t appear.
He owed Ah Wen a huge debt.
He thought: I must earn more points. Pay him back—with interest.
The sub-personality sighed.
“Alright, you’ve tied yourself up and gagged yourself. When I take over your body, I’ll still be stuck like this. Can’t move, can’t speak. Smart—now I can’t betray you, or tip off the Black Shadow or Lin Zhi. But have you thought about how you’ll escape? Is this really safe?”
Though he knew the sub-personality could read his mind, Lin Kuo still replied:
“Only I know how to untie the knot. When I’m asleep, you can’t read my thoughts. Without the evil god’s mind, you can’t open it. Even if you memorize how it was tied, you still need your teeth—which you don’t have. When I wake up, the tape’s stickiness will weaken. I can push it open with my tongue—you can’t.”
Sub-personality: “The first time you’ve ever said this much to me—and it’s all to insult me? Fine. Then let’s see who’s better. Good night, main personality.”
Lin Kuo closed his eyes.
It was the earliest he had ever tried to sleep, but he was exhausted—especially after last night’s near-death experience.
Though tightly bound and uncomfortable, he fell asleep quickly.
The moment he did, his body opened its eyes.
The sub-personality tested his movement.
Then sighed.
Too tight.
He couldn’t move.
He studied the knot—Lin Kuo hadn’t lied.
He truly couldn’t untie it. Not without help.
So the sub-personality gave up.
He stared at the phone screen.
“Mmm…”
He tried to hum—to get Sheng Wen’s attention.
But a calm, cold voice came from the speaker:
“Behave yourself.”
The sub-personality sneered.
Boring.
Fine. Let’s make our own fun.
He began counting silently:
1, 2, 3… 60.
1, 2, 3… 60.
1, 2, 3… 60…
Time passed, minute by minute.
The surveillance time ticked forward—
17:58
18:58
19:58
20:58
21:58
22:58
23:58
24:00
Splash—
Zhang Sen sat up from the bathtub, dripping wet.
His body moved stiffly.
Then he stood up, opened the bathroom door, and walked straight to the bedroom.
He could feel the connection—that resonance between rewards.
Knock, knock, knock.
“Formless waste, tell me Lin Kuo’s death password.”
Inside, the sub-personality’s eyes curved.
He hadn’t lied to the main personality.
Zhang Sen was indeed dead.
But ‘chopped to death’ was not his death password.
So naturally, just like Lin Kuo, he resurrected.
Even bound and gagged, the sub-personality couldn’t help but laugh.
Hehehehehehehehe…
The excitement doesn't stop here! If you enjoyed this, you’ll adore I’ll Raise the Villain Who Killed Me.. Start reading now!
Read : I’ll Raise the Villain Who Killed Me.
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