"Don't try to sow discord," Officer Li glared at Qiao Jiajin, his voice severe. "You are a moneylender, and I am a police officer. Who do you think people are more likely to believe?"
Qi Xia glanced at the quarrelling crowd. He could tell that Officer Li wasn't lying—he truly was a detective.
But his judgment was flawed.
Perhaps it was a natural instinct, or perhaps it stemmed from his innate sense of justice, but he constantly sought to impose order upon the group.
The intermission was already halfway through, and the once-clamorous crowd gradually fell into silence.
During this time, Qi Xia had repeated the phrase "My name is Li Ming" countless times in his mind, until even he found himself irritated by it.
After all, a shattered corpse lay slumped beside him, making it impossible to find peace of mind.
Blood dripped rhythmically from the table, pooling onto the floor. They had been confined with the corpse for nearly an hour now, and a strange, putrid stench had begun to permeate the air.
Qi Xia cast a listless glance at the lifeless body beside him, noticing that his own trousers had become soiled beyond recognition.
In the immediate aftermath of death, as the body's muscles lose their tension, the inevitable consequence is incontinence.
Even before the full force of decomposition set in, a nauseating stench had already begun to assault their senses.
Qi Xia and another young woman sat on either side of the corpse. The woman, seemingly unable to endure the foul odor, kept her hand firmly pressed against her nose and mouth.
Another ten minutes passed before the goat-headed figure finally spoke. "The twenty-minute intermission is over. The game resumes now."
The young man named Han Yimo steadied himself, took a deep breath, and said, "My name is Han Yimo. I am a web novelist."
"Before arriving here, I was in my rented apartment, writing the final chapter of my novel. The story features over a hundred characters, all of whom needed to make an appearance in the finale, so I was deeply engrossed in my work and failed to notice anything happening outside."
"In fact... I have no idea when the earthquake struck or when I lost consciousness."
Han Yimo's account differed from the others. Unlike them, he seemed completely "independent," and his narrative was startlingly brief.
"That's it?" The muscular man frowned slightly. "You're just going to say 'I don't know' and leave it at that?"
"Since I cannot lie, I see no reason to fabricate a story simply to appease the group," Han Yimo's voice, though quiet, carried a strange sense of conviction.
"Alright… then let's move on." Officer Li's expression remained skeptical as he spoke again. "It's the lady's turn."
"Hey, cop," Qiao Jiajin sneered, visibly displeased by Li's authoritative tone. "We're all 'participants' here—stop acting like you're the leader."
"Someone has to take charge," Officer Li countered. "I've already said it: only one of us is the enemy. The other eight must work together."
"And what makes you think you're the one to lead?" Qiao Jiajin scoffed. "Outside, I might have feared you. But here? For all we know, you could be the 'liar' yourself."
"Enough arguing," a cold, composed woman interjected, silencing them.
From the beginning, she had maintained a logical and collected demeanor, accusing the goat-headed figure of imprisoning them for twenty-four hours.
Seeing that the tension had subsided, she continued, "Regardless of who wins this so-called 'game,' the rest of us will be considered 'accomplices to murder.' That is what you should all be thinking about."
Qi Xia's expression shifted slightly upon hearing this.
If he truly managed to leave this room alive, then he would, in a sense, have "killed" the other eight.
But what other choice did he have?
The card in his possession was undoubtedly marked "Liar." Who would willingly sacrifice themselves so that others could survive?
"My name is Zhang Chenze. I am a lawyer." The cold woman folded her arms, her face devoid of emotion. "Under different circumstances, I would have handed out my business card."
The others failed to grasp her dry humor, but she seemed unfazed by their lack of response.
"Before arriving here, I was organizing court documents. My client had been defrauded of two million yuan—a case of substantial financial loss and grave criminality."
At the mention of "two million yuan," most of the group remained indifferent, but Qiao Jiajin visibly flinched. "Two million?"
"Yes. Two million. People say lawyers are the embodiment of fairness and justice, but we too have personal biases. That man took out a high-interest loan just to support his family—it was deeply concerning. But illegal lending is a separate case, one unrelated to mine."
"When the earthquake struck, I was driving to meet my client. I was on Qingyang Avenue, having just passed the Du Fu Thatched Cottage and nearing Wuhou Shrine. I remember distinctly—I wasn't speeding, barely going forty kilometers per hour, when suddenly, I saw the ground ahead of me split open."
"I hit the brakes immediately, stopping just before the fissure. But the cars behind me weren't as fortunate. They couldn't stop in time, leading to a chain-reaction collision."
"I heard a series of deafening crashes, and before I could react, my car was shoved into the gaping crevice. Then everything went dark, and I woke up here."
Another story concluded, leaving only three more to be told.
"Wuhou Shrine..." Dr. Zhao murmured, deep in thought. "You mean the one in Chengdu?"
"Yes. I work in Chengdu."
It was now evident that the earthquake had affected the entire country.
Judging from these scattered, unfamiliar accounts, determining who was lying seemed an almost impossible task.
"My name is Li Shangwu. I am a criminal investigator from Inner Mongolia."
"Before I found myself here, I was staking out a fraud suspect. Reliable intelligence had confirmed the suspect's exact location."
"The suspect was involved in a major financial scam, amounting to two million yuan—the first case of such magnitude in our city this year."
"My colleague and I had been conducting surveillance from our vehicle for three straight days, waiting for the suspect to make an appearance."
"But our target was even more cautious than we had anticipated. He must have sensed danger, because he never showed himself."
"For three days, we lived in that car—eating, drinking, even relieving ourselves inside. Our nerves were on the verge of snapping."
"But do you know what's even worse for a man than hunger or thirst?"
"Running out of cigarettes."
"We had nothing left. Not a single cigarette. By protocol, we couldn't abandon our post, but the craving was unbearable."
"So, I sent my partner to run and buy a pack while I kept watch on the suspect's residence."
"I never expected that mere moments after he left, the ground would start violently shaking. I tried to step out and assess the situation, but before I could react, someone looped a thin wire around my neck from behind."
"I may be skilled in hand-to-hand combat, but when you're being strangled from the backseat, there's little you can do. My arms couldn't reach my attacker, and the wire was too tight to remove."
The group observed Li Shangwu closely, noting the faint red mark encircling his neck.
"So, I reclined my seat to free my airway, but I was unable to turn around. My size made it impossible—my legs were trapped under the steering wheel."
"Before I could fight back, my assailant struck me on the head with something heavy. I blacked out."
His story cast a shadow of doubt over the group.
His account was entirely different from the others. Until now, every participant had been injured and rendered unconscious by an accident.
Only he had been deliberately attacked.
If they had to single out the most suspicious person in the room—wasn't it him?