Chapter 39: Möbius Strip

Yan Jie was a bit distracted and said, “Although Zhang Mengnan didn’t die…”

At that moment, what Lin Kuo thought of perfectly aligned with what had happened the night before—it all fit together without a single gap.

However, due to his recent depression, he had always seemed taciturn in others’ impressions, so even though Lin Kuo was extremely displeased at that moment, it was hard for anyone to notice the gloomy aura radiating from him.

Lin Kuo pondered for a few seconds.
“Wanting everyone to live was wishful thinking. It won’t happen again.”

Yan Jie didn’t understand the deeper meaning behind Lin Kuo’s words.

He picked up the cup of chrysanthemum tea, meant to clear heat and reduce dryness, and took a sip with an exaggerated slurp.
“Good tea! Beauties and handsome guys, you’re all so hot-tempered this early in the morning. Want a cup? I’ll go make some for you.”

Lin Kuo shot him a cold glance—as if looking at an ant—and turned to leave.

The three of them walked up the stairs toward their rooms.

Lin Zhi couldn’t contain the panic in her heart and couldn’t help but ask Lin Kuo on the stairs,
“Ge, a new materialization was born last night. Yan Jie’s duration points are from… the giant python?”

Lin Zhi didn’t care why Yan Jie had duration points.
She was concerned about Lin Kuo.

Yan Jie wasn’t wrong; the materialization wouldn’t appear during the day and would only show up at midnight.

This meant not only would Yan Jie securely hold third place, but he’d also raise the score threshold for third place to 54 points.

And this 54-point threshold for third place was a conservative estimate.

In her anxiety, Lin Zhi nearly tripped on the stairs.

Lin Kuo caught her. “Watch your step.”

More and more fear and unease flooded Lin Zhi’s veins, making her body ice cold.
“Ge, why aren’t you worried at all?”

She thought Lin Kuo hadn’t considered the most dangerous point due to the influence of his depression.

Lin Zhi anxiously reminded him,
“And Yan Jie knows everything. Ge, it’s not just a matter of whether we can catch up to Yan Jie’s score anymore. Since he knows how to create materializations, he can also use his own imagination to make the Mirage choose him for your story…”

Lin Zhi didn’t dare to finish the sentence.

A person like Yan Jie—the imagination he had would always be the most malicious and vile.

And Lin Kuo was a “nice old guy.” How could he possibly compete with Yan Jie when it came to having the Mirage choose a materialization?

Lin Kuo stopped and looked at the two “Lin Zhis” in front of him.

Both versions of Lin Zhi wore varying degrees of worry on their faces.

Lin Kuo lightly pursed his lips and, after a long moment, promised,
“The one who dies won’t be me.”

Lin Zhi took a deep breath.

Although she knew Lin Kuo always kept his promises, she still didn’t dare to relax.
“Ge, have you thought of a way?”

Lin Kuo hummed in affirmation.

Hearing the heavy, slow footsteps approaching from behind him, he cut the conversation short.

All three of them turned their gazes toward the same spot.

Zhang Mengnan’s face was very pale.

When her eyes met Lin Kuo’s, her defenses crumbled.
“Dalao… I’m sorry, I know I was wrong.”

Lin Kuo didn’t say anything. His gaze slid downward.

There were no wounds on Zhang Mengnan’s body.

It seemed that last night had just been a close call.

Lin Zhi really wanted to curse, but she was of a similar disposition to Lin Kuo—she responded better to gentleness than to aggression.

Now that Zhang Mengnan was apologizing so pitifully, Lin Zhi couldn’t bring herself to curse her.

After a long pause, she managed to squeeze out a stiff sentence,
“What are you trying to eavesdrop on this time?”

Zhang Mengnan immediately shook her head. “I’m not, I just…”

After dawn, she had gone to room No. 13 to look for Lin Kuo, but no one was there.
She guessed that Lin Kuo had probably gone to room No. 5 last night.
When she got to room No. 5, she came up empty again.

Figuring that Lin Kuo had gone to the living room to check the scores, she waited at the top of the stairs for the three of them to return.
If nothing unexpected happened, the giant python would come for her again tonight.
The only way to avoid the giant python’s attack was to have Lin Kuo’s group act as a shield in front of her, while she hid in a room with a number after Lin Kuo’s.
But Lin Kuo’s group of three always stuck together.
If something happened to them, it would be just her and Yan Jie left.
How could she possibly defeat Yan Jie?

After much thought, she could only place her hopes on Lin Kuo.
“Dalao,” Zhang Mengnan’s voice trembled, “I want to make a deal with you.”

Lin Zhi had a bad feeling about this deal and was about to start cursing when Lin Kuo stopped her.
“Let’s talk in the room.”

The four of them went to room No. 5, where they had stayed the previous night.
A faint scent of lavender lingered in the room—the same scent as on Zhang Mengnan.
Knowing that Zhang Mengnan had been looking for him, Lin Kuo spoke frankly:
“I can’t look after you.”

Zhang Mengnan choked, tears falling like broken strings of pearls.
“Dalao, don’t reject me yet. Just listen to me first…”

“You want to trade the giant python’s weakness with me?” Lin Kuo rubbed his uncomfortable nose.
“There’s no need. I know its weakness. I can go to your room tonight, but you have to stay with me.”

Lin Kuo was finally on his guard.
His plan for tonight had always been to eliminate the giant python.
But he couldn’t trust Zhang Mengnan and had to keep her in his sight.

After all, Zhang Mengnan had deceived him before, and her behavior in this instance was completely different from her performance in Intruder.
Furthermore, Zhang Mengnan was in a dangerous situation.
Lin Kuo couldn’t guarantee what she would do to save her own life.

Zhang Mengnan was stunned.
Lin Zhi started to speak but stopped. “Ge…”
Lin Kuo shook his head slightly, then glanced at Jiang Sheng with a solemn expression.

Lin Kuo would not be staying with the two of them tonight, so he would have to rely on Jiang Sheng.
Zhang Mengnan was so scared that she followed Lin Kuo’s group around all day.

Lin Kuo originally intended to give Lin Zhi…
Because they had to fight the giant python at night, Lin Kuo spent the whole day…

The lavender scent on Zhang Mengnan’s body—there was no need for her to recount her ordeal.

A python’s vision is not very good.
It relies mostly on its forked tongue to collect scent particles from the surrounding environment. These scent particles then reach its brain, so a snake’s sense of smell is very keen.
This was the giant python’s advantage—but also its weakness.
What’s more, the giant python was materialized based on human logical imagination.

Lin Kuo asked the NPC for a lot of charcoal and piled it in Zhang Mengnan’s room No. 12.
Zhang Mengnan asked, puzzled, “Dalao… are you going to burn it to death?”

Lin Kuo said, “Suffocate it.”
“…”

After setting up the charcoal, Lin Kuo and Zhang Mengnan stayed in room No. 12 to prevent Yan Jie from sabotaging it.

As midnight approached, Zhang Mengnan couldn’t help but tremble all over.
She ran to the bathroom to get the new aromatherapy diffuser the NPC had placed there.
“Dalao, we should still carry this on us, just in case…”

“Don’t use this.”
Zhang Mengnan hesitated. “But…”

Lin Kuo glanced at her, then stood up without another word and went to the bathroom.
He took the bath towel and hand towel from the metal rack and soaked them with water.
Then he gave the bath towel to Zhang Mengnan, keeping only a hand towel for himself.
Lin Kuo said, “Drape it over yourself.”

Seeing Zhang Mengnan still clutching the aromatherapy diffuser, Lin Kuo said with a hint of impatience,
“The main component of charcoal is carbon. If it burns completely, it will produce a large amount of carbon dioxide.”

Only then did Zhang Mengnan understand Lin Kuo’s meaning.
Because the giant python was, after all, a product of Yan Jie’s imagination, it was also bound by normal human logic.
The python relied on its sense of smell to gather information, so masking one’s scent was only a temporary solution.
No smell in the world is lethal.

What’s truly lethal are poisonous gases.
In a fire, most victims die not from flames but from inhaling the toxic gases produced by burning materials.
For example, carbon dioxide can cause suffocation.

Lin Kuo was preparing to create this gas to suffocate the giant python.
He glanced at the aromatherapy diffuser in Zhang Mengnan’s hand.
Zhang Mengnan immediately threw it away.

In a room full of carbon dioxide, wouldn’t a unique aromatherapy scent just make her a living target?
After throwing it away, she glanced at the swaying shadows of trees outside the window.
The wind was picking up…

Zhang Mengnan asked uneasily, “What… what if the charcoal doesn’t burn completely?”

“That’s even better.”

When charcoal burns incompletely, it produces carbon monoxide—a common and deadly asphyxiating gas.
Aside from cyanide and hydrogen sulfide, carbon monoxide is one of the most dangerous.

Zhang Mengnan looked at Lin Kuo as if he were a towering god.
Lin Kuo ignored her and began to light the charcoal.
Zhang Mengnan helped.

Just before midnight, the charcoal began to burn.
Lin Kuo went into the bathroom, turned on the shower to wet the entire room, then folded and soaked the towel again.
Zhang Mengnan draped the bath towel over herself.

She looked at the towel, then at Lin Kuo’s, and said embarrassedly,
“Dalao… thank you. And I’m really sorry for tricking you last time.”

“Mm.”

Just as Lin Kuo was about to say something, a rustling sound came from outside.
The giant python was here.
Zhang Mengnan’s face instantly paled.

Lin Kuo said, “You stay here.”
Zhang Mengnan nodded.

Lin Kuo opened the bathroom door, leaned against the doorframe, and looked up at the window.
The lens in the giant eye reflected Lin Kuo’s shadow.
Perhaps due to the unpleasant smell in the room, the giant python didn’t flick its tongue out.

Without hesitation, Lin Kuo kicked the door hard.
Bang—
The noise startled the python.
Its forked tongue shot out toward the sound.

Even though the room was already filled with smoke, and Lin Kuo was covering his face, he could still smell the stench from the python’s tongue.
The foul, rotten odor made his stomach churn.

But that wasn’t the only problem.
The scent particles collected from Room No. 12 seemed to make the python’s brain judge the room as dangerous.
The yellowish-brown muscles around the giant eye writhed, and white gas sprayed from its nostrils—but it never made a second attempt.

The charcoal burned more intensely.
The white walls were now scorched black, and even through the towel, the air was suffocating.
Lin Kuo frowned, rushed to the bed, and picked up the aromatherapy diffuser, which was scorching hot.

The heat burned his fingertips.
Ignoring the pain, he pried open the cap and poured the perfume on himself.
It contained alcohol, which made the liquid cling and burn like a brand.

As pain flooded his senses, the python smelled the lavender again.
Its tongue darted toward Lin Kuo.
He quickly retreated, dodging just in time—but his hand brushed against the tongue.

Barbs. The tongue had barbs.
His hand was instantly torn.
But the discovery was more important than the pain.

He picked up a piece of half-burnt charcoal with the towel.
When the tongue came in again, he hurled the charcoal-wrapped towel at it.
The barbs hooked it instantly.

The snake retracted its tongue—along with the towel and the charcoal.
Moments later, it collapsed, falling straight backward.

Lin Kuo rushed to the window.
The giant python, about fifty-six meters long, thrashed in the garden.
It smashed trees and walls, its scales flying like glass-shattering shrapnel.

Lin Kuo didn’t stay by the window.
He opened the door.
Fresh air flooded in, reviving his lungs.

He called to Zhang Mengnan hoarsely, “Let’s go.”

They staggered to Room No. 7, the farthest room on the third floor.
Zhang Mengnan collapsed on the floor, too weak to stand.

Lin Kuo checked the window.
The python was still moving, but its struggles weakened…
and then it stopped.

The clock read 2 AM.
The python had lasted 26 hours.

Yan Jie’s duration score was fixed at 26.
Adding his 30 story points: 56 total.

Zhang Mengnan was still in first place.
Lin Zhi was second with 61.
Yan Jie third with 56.
Jiang Sheng only had 26.
Lin Kuo had just 3.

Then he remembered something.
He picked up a pen and began to write ‘1’ on his palm—but paused.

He closed his eyes and replayed the entire instance in his memory.
He observed from a third-person view.

Finally, he paused at the moment he first saw Lin Zhi.
He finally discovered what was wrong.
When Lin Zhi entered the instance, his reaction upon seeing her was too ordinary.
He didn’t curse the Lord God system, nor was he overjoyed that Lin Zhi had finally changed back from her evil god state.
There was no excitement of a sibling reunion.
This was wrong.
So, Lin Kuo changed his answer and hesitantly wrote the number ‘2’ in his palm with the pen.

Zhang Mengnan looked confused.

Lin Kuo didn’t explain.
He just stared at the ‘2’ in his palm.

Was this the second time?
He wasn’t sure.
But he couldn’t afford to be wrong.

He sat like that, staring at his palm, until the next day.

The next day—Sunday—the final story session began.
Lin Kuo didn’t go downstairs until nearly 10 AM. Sweat had already blurred the ‘2’ on his palm.
He entered the living room, his palm still raised. Lin Zhi and Jiang Sheng exhaled with relief at his arrival.
Yan Jie, however, offered sarcastic applause: “Looks like I overestimated you.” Smirking, he added, “What now? My total is 56.”

Lin Kuo ignored him and checked the display: Jiang Sheng’s total score read 36.
The old man beamed at Lin Kuo. “Guest No. 13, the Sunday story session has already begun. Are you ready to tell us your story?”
Lin Kuo nodded. Everyone—except Yan Jie—was sweating bullets, wondering how he might catch up in time for settlement the next day.

The old man gestured invitingly: “Guest No. 13? Please begin.”
Under the crowd’s expectant gaze, Lin Kuo began slowly: “The story I want to tell is…”
“The Möbius strip.”

Zhang Mengnan’s eyes lit up; tears seemed ready to fall. She seemed ready to kneel before him.

Lin Kuo withdrew the clue paper from his pocket, tore a corner off it, twisted the strip 180°, and held the ends together. A Möbius strip took shape in his blistered hands.

“A normal sheet has two sides—but a Möbius strip has only one…” He met the ‘Mirage’ gaze directed at him. “An ant following along can never escape one side…”

Using the strip to illustrate, he explained: “Assuming an ant’s speed is 5 cm per minute: after five minutes, it returns to the starting point—but it must keep walking. Five minutes later, it returns again; third time… it returns yet again.”
He paused, then stated calmly: “Time is looping.”

At that moment, a vision coalesced in his mind. Each participant, he realized, walked on their own Möbius strip—not the paper strip in his hand, but the entire instance

The starting point of the instance was the meeting of the 13 participants in front of the manor.
Their Möbius strip unfolded at that moment.
The time loop Lin Kuo set up was to connect the start of the instance on Monday to midnight of the second Monday.
That is to say, at midnight tonight, Lin Kuo’s ‘Möbius strip’ would be materialized, and the time loop would begin.
The next day, the 13 of them would gather again at the beginning of the instance, at the manor meeting.
The real deadline of the instance was 10 AM on the second Monday, but Lin Kuo’s time loop avoided it.
Knowing that Lin Zhi didn’t understand the Möbius strip, Lin Kuo put down the paper strip in his hand and drew two timelines on the paper with a pen.
Normal time: Monday (instance starts) — Tuesday — Wednesday — Thursday — Friday — Saturday — Sunday — Second Monday 10 AM (scoring ends).
Time loop: Monday (instance starts) — Tuesday — Wednesday — Thursday — Friday — Saturday — Sunday — Back to the first Monday (instance starts).
Lin Kuo shot a cold glance at Yan Jie, then looked at Lin Zhi. “Understand?”

Though bewildered, Lin Zhi and Jiang Sheng nodded uncertainly.

Standing straight, Lin Kuo concluded, “My story is finished.”

Yan Jie considered the implications—and paled. If Lin Kuo’s story materialized, Yan Jie’s personal score would loop endlessly: 0 → 30 → 56, repeating indefinitely. Meanwhile, Lin Kuo’s duration points would accumulate across loops—as long as he didn’t escape the loop.
Yan Jie snapped, “I object to this story.”

The old man shook his head: “This is philosophical in nature—very different. It invites deeper thought. Now—we’ll score Guest No. 13’s story.”

When the score sheets were handed out, Lin Zhi hurried to give Lin Kuo a 5. Naturally, Jiang Sheng and Zhang Mengnan followed suit. Yan Jie looked at his own sheet, pale-faced—but didn’t dare score any lower.
It didn’t matter: if time truly looped, Lin Kuo’s accumulating duration would eventually overtake him.
Yan Jie considered the moment Lin Kuo once said, “Wanting everyone to survive was wishful thinking…”

Originally, Lin Kuo planned to cap his story score at 30. But Yan Jie’s resistance forced his hand: he now had to aim for 58 points. By midnight that night—before the loop reset—Jiang Sheng’s total would top 58, giving third place to Jiang Sheng and Lin Kuo trailing Yan Jie by two points. That wouldn’t do.

The old man announced: “Guest No. 13’s total score is 20.” Lin Kuo checked the screen—his score: 23.
Then the old man seemed to remember something: “Oh, right—this is the last story session. Tomorrow at 10 AM, final scores are revealed.” He told them lunch would be in thirty minutes.

Lin Kuo sat beside Lin Zhi. She opened her mouth to ask a question, but Zhang Mengnan shook her head subtly and signaled Yan Jie was nearby. “He can read lips. We’ll talk after lunch back in the room.” she mouthed. Lin Zhi had no choice but to keep quiet.

Time passed agonizingly. Yan Jie glared at the screen, watching Jiang Sheng’s duration creep upward—toward 48, even before midnight’s loop. Yan Jie seethed at the impending unstoppable materialization.

Lunch finally arrived. Yan Jie stormed off in silence.
At last, Lin Zhi spoke. “Ge, how did you know the Mirage would pick your imagination to materialize?”
Lin Kuo answered, “Because of the depression. The time loop would torment me the most—so the Mirage would latch onto my suffering.”

Lin Zhi’s eyes filled with tears as she finally understood. Lin Kuo added: “Tonight I’ll go to room No. 1.”

At this point, another question arose in Lin Zhi’s mind. “Doesn’t the materialization only attack the person in the room with the next number? If so, then there’s a bug.”
Lin Kuo shook his head and explained, “We can see other materializations, which means the materializations are real. Last night’s giant python also only attacked room No. 12, but the scales it flung out while struggling could harm others. You can think of it as the materialization subjectively attacking the person with the next number, but in reality, its damage is effective against everyone.”
Lin Zhi seemed to understand but was hesitant to speak.
Lin Kuo glanced at her. “Actually, materializations can be divided into two types. One type has strong lethality, like the little boy Sadako. The other type has weak lethality, like the depression. The Lord God system will balance the instance’s points of interest. If a strong lethality materialization could also move around during the day, this instance wouldn’t be just two stars. And if a weaker lethality one could only attack at night, this instance also wouldn’t reach two-star difficulty.”
Lin Kuo’s depression had been ongoing, affecting him day and night.
It was only after his depression improved that he realized this.
Jiang Sheng understood. “Lin Kuo-ge, so your materialization will persist day and night. That’s great!”
Lin Zhi finally couldn’t help but ask, “But the most important point, ge, how do you know we aren’t in a time loop right now?”
Lin Kuo put down his donut. “We are in a time loop—this is the second cycle.”

The room went silent.
Lin Zhi stammered: “Ge…”
Lin Kuo explained: “If I can think of using a time loop now, then I must have thought of it before… in the first loop. That’s why the ‘2’ on my palm—it represents the second loop. The first loop’s number felt overly familiar, ‘1’; the ‘2’ felt strange. I stared at it to imprint it on my memory.”

Zhang Mengnan finally said, “So you now know how many duration points each loop grants?”
Lin Kuo nodded.
He guessed: since a week of loop corresponds mentally to 24 hours, each loop yields 24 duration points. To reach exactly 58, he must finish the third loop at 8:37:49 PM on Wednesday.

That night, he went to room No. 1. At midnight, he closed his eyes. His depression dissolved—and for the first time, he slept.

He woke up in a narrow alley inside the city walls. After a few steps, he saw the manor again.
Someone called out: “Lin Kuo‑gege.” It was Jiang Sheng, who joined him, walking toward the manor. Someone was crying nearby.
Jiang Sheng asked, “Lin Kuo-ge, do you know this sister?” Lin Kuo did not reply.

Then a familiar voice said: “How could this manor kill us? If you can’t live, at least enjoy your time here…”
He spoke again: “Lin Zhi, come here.”

“Holy shit!” Lin Zhi rubbed her eyes. “Is it really you, Ge?!” She jogged over.
He looked at Lin Zhi and Jiang Sheng and said, “Remember: at 8:37:49 PM on Wednesday—push me from that window. Not a second off.”

Lin Zhi trembled. Jiang Sheng was solemn. After that, Yan Jie hollered from behind, “Hey! The door’s open!”
Lin Kuo froze. He stared at Lin Zhi. Under his look, she whispered, “I… I know.”

Lin Kuo: “Lin Zhi, Jiang Sheng—at that moment, my thinking is too slow. Only you can help me. And there’s only one chance.”
Lin Zhi cried silently. Jiang Sheng solemnly nodded, “I understand.”

The loop repeated—until Wednesday night. Lin Zhi and Jiang Sheng guided the deeply affected Lin Kuo to the fourth floor.
Lin Zhi checked the time: “It’s 8:37.”
“In 49 seconds, I’ll kill my own brother with my own hands…” she whispered.
Lin Kuo looked at the two of them and asked irritably, “What are you whispering about? What I asked you to do…”
Jiang Sheng and Lin Zhi ignored him.
Jiang Sheng was counting down.
Because freefall would take another 2 seconds, Jiang Sheng also counted those 2 seconds. “10, 9, 8… 3, 2, 1.”
Lin Zhi pushed.
Bang—

Lin Kuo jolted awake, his head buried in the bed. He noted the door number: 1.
Relief washed over him—before he bolted to room No. 5. Inside, Lin Zhi sat in pain over a test paper. “Why is it English this time…”

She blinked when she saw him. “Ge, weren’t you in room 1 waiting for the loop?”
She grabbed the paper and bolted to the living room.

On the display,

Name: Lin Zhi
ID: [1]
Duration Score: 26
Population Score: 20
Story Score: 15
Total Score: 61
Rank: 2

Name: Jiang Sheng
ID: [4]
Duration Score: 48
Population Score: 0
Story Score: 0
Total Score: 48
Rank: 5

Name: Yan Jie
ID: [8]
Duration Score: 26
Population Score: 0
Story Score: 30
Total Score: 56
Rank: 4

Name: Lin Kuo
ID: [13]
Duration Score: 38
Population Score: 0
Story Score: 20
Total Score: 58
Rank: 3

Lin Zhi threw herself at Lin Kuo. Tears glistened in her eyes: “Ge, we did it!”
They stayed and finished the paper by 6:30. Jiang Sheng’s duration score climbed to 58, moving him into third place.

Then bold text appeared on screen:
[Scoring has ended]
[Instance has ended]

A mechanical voice declared:
“Materialized Stories instance has ended. Results are being calculated. Estimated time: 10 seconds.…”

At the same time, a floating panel appeared in front of the three of them:
[Instance: Materialized Stories
Difficulty: Two stars
Participating Players (Currently Remaining) Scoring Situation:
Zhang Mengnan, first in total score
Lin Zhi, second in total score
Lin Kuo, Jiang Sheng, third in total score
Yan Jie, fourth in total score (soon to die)

Points Situation:
Zhang Mengnan ×800 points (instance reward)
Lin Zhi ×500 points (instance reward) ×100 points (newbie reward)
Lin Kuo ×300 points (instance reward)
Jiang Sheng ×300 points (instance reward)

Additional Reward Recipients List: Lin Kuo, Lin Zhi, Jiang Sheng (Materialization reward recipients’ wishes after evaluation by the Lord God system)
Evaluation estimated for twenty seconds—]
Seeing this, Lin Kuo had a gut feeling that something was wrong.
Would the Lord God system be so kind?
He didn’t believe it.
Twenty seconds later, new text popped up on the floating panel:
[Reward Recipient Jiang Sheng: Allowed to go to Lower City District A]
Reward Recipient Lin Zhi: Allowed to go directly to Lower City District B, and reside at 23 B District, 7-708
Reward Recipient Lin Kuo: Sheng Wen is allowed to unlock all instances in Lower City District B]

“…”