Jiang Chan took a deep breath and began to climb. The ladder made a slight but worrying creaking sound. Reaching the top, she carefully stepped onto the cold metal frame at the bottom of the chandelier.

We're closer to the ceiling now.

She looked up at the target mezzanine—a triangular gap formed between the top of the chandelier frame and the ceiling, so narrow that it could probably only barely accommodate an adult curled up inside.

Using both hands and feet, like a rock climber, she gripped the cold, grimy metal frame of the chandelier and moved upwards. Rusty metal fragments fell in a rustling sound. Her arm muscles were tense, and she moved with extreme caution with each step.

Finally, she climbed to the very top of the chandelier frame. The mezzanine was right there in front of her. It was filled with thick layers of dust, unknown insect shells, and dried bird droppings. The space was indeed extremely cramped, like a crude coffin made of metal and wood.

Jiang Chan reached out, her fingertips touching the cold wooden ceiling. She focused her mind and activated the "rule perspective" granted by the system.

Buzz...

The world before my eyes had changed. The lavish decorations and dilapidated scenes of the ballroom had blurred, leaving only cold, faintly glowing lines sketched in the void. That was the underlying rule network of the instance!

She looked closely at the location of the interlayer. The grid of rules appeared somewhat blurry here; the lines representing the rules were interwoven unusually loosely near the interlayer area, like a ball of yarn that had been carelessly crumpled, without forming clear boundaries.

In particular, the rules for defining "enclosed spaces" are particularly dim and chaotic.

"A gray area..." Jiang Chan understood. The system's judgment on this unmarked corner was lax!

She pulled something from her bosom—a small, irregular piece of metal that emitted a faint, almost extinguished, milky-white light. The edges were rough, as if it had been forcibly broken off.

She had salvaged this from behind the base of a collapsed wooden statue in the long-abandoned, forgotten chapel on the ship. A "fragment of sacred runes," stripped of most of its power but whose essence remained unchanged!

Jiang Chan carefully adjusted her posture, using her legs and back to secure herself to the tall chandelier frame, freeing her hands. She carefully examined the wooden planks on the inner side of the interlayer near the ceiling, finding a relatively sturdy spot with a larger gap.

She used her fingernail to pick off a bit of rotten wood, then used the tip of a small screwdriver she carried with her to drill and dig into the crevice.

Wood shavings fell softly. A small groove was carved out. She gently and carefully pressed the tiny fragment of the sacred rune, no bigger than a fingernail, into that groove.

The milky white glimmer on the fragment seemed to flash briefly before quickly fading, almost blending into the decaying wood. It was virtually undetectable unless examined closely.

Having done all this, Jiang Chan's lips curled into a cold smile. The core component of the trap was installed!

She carefully retraced her steps, climbed down the chandelier, and then down the ladder. Her feet stepped back onto the worn carpet of the ballroom.

Next, it's time to spread the bait.

She left the ballroom and walked down the corridor into the depths of the crew quarters. She knew there was a place there—a thick oak board nailed to the wall, covered with outdated navigational notices, ship structural diagrams, and the like.

Players often post messages, comments, or warnings on it, using it as a temporary public information board.

Several new notes were pasted on top right now, with messy handwriting:

"A horde of vengeful spirits inhabits the east deck. Keep away!"

"There are bandages in the medical room, but the cabinet door is jammed."

"Looking for a team to explore the lower engine room! We have powerful firepower!"

Jiang Chan ignored them. She went around to an inconspicuous corner in the shadows behind the wooden planks. There was an abandoned tin bucket there, containing some dark brown, viscous liquid that smelled of rust—some kind of solidified and ineffective paint or preservative.

She crouched down, expressionless, and dipped her right index finger hard into the semi-solidified dark brown liquid remaining on the bucket wall. The touch was cold and viscous. Then, she walked to the slightly more open wall in front of the public information board.

Raise your hand.

With his fingers, stained with a thick, dark brown liquid, he painstakingly wrote large, bloody characters on the mottled wall:

The only way out for 'midnight revelry'!!!

Crystal chandelier mezzanine!!!

Divine protection!!!

Only one person allowed!

—Leaves by the one who saw the light

Her handwriting was crooked and illegible, carrying a sense of haste and madness on the verge of death. The dark brown liquid, in the dim light, looked almost identical to real, semi-dried blood! Especially the several huge exclamation marks—they were truly shocking!

After writing the last word, Jiang Chan took a step back, looking at the "blood letter" on the wall, a letter filled with desperate allure. The message was brief enough, yet shocking enough.

"Only one way to survive," "divine protection," "only one person allowed"—every word hits the survivor's weak spot precisely! The final signature, "the one who saw the light," adds even more mystery and credibility.

She glanced around one last time, making sure no obvious personal traces were left. Then, just as she had come, she silently retreated into the darkness and left the crew's activity area.

The bait has been cast.

Next, we wait for the "midnight revelry" bells to ring, and for the panicked fish to fight each other for this only "way out"!