Put down the candlestick? Why?

Xiao Cheng's mind went blank for a moment, and when she came back to her senses, she noticed that there was an extremely strong smell of blood in the air.

From very close range came the faint, desperate wail of Player Number One, sounding as if he was about to die, mixed with his heavy, labored breathing as if he were leaking air.

"Number Six!"

Fang He shouted again, bringing her back to her senses.

Xiao Cheng felt the sticky sensation on her hand and jerked back as if waking from a dream. She looked down, staring blankly at Player Number One, who was covered in blood on the ground, with an incredulous expression.

“No…this must be wrong,” she said firmly, looking up at Fang He, trying to see the familiar expression on that familiar face.

Unfortunately, no.

Fang He took the candlestick, now stained crimson, from her hand and said in a calm, almost indifferent tone, "You shouldn't have hurt him so badly."

"It's Mosquito Woman, or something similar." Xiao Cheng tried to remain calm, but Fang He's strange attitude still made her feel uneasy.

It seems something has been overlooked...

No, it was eerie from beginning to end.

She took a deep breath and recounted the whole story of reading the book and the Mosquito Girl: "I just intended to use the candlestick for self-defense, and before I knew it, it had turned into this. He did this because of the Mosquito Girl. If you still don't believe me, you can go and ask Number Two for confirmation."

"Consult Number Two for verification." Fang He repeated noncommittally, then nodded slightly. "And then?"

"And then of course..." Xiao Cheng's words suddenly stopped.

Her pupils contracted sharply, and her gaze went past Fang He's shoulder to stare blankly at the second woman, who was nailed to the wall and died with her eyes wide open.

Of course, dead people cannot serve as witnesses.

Xiao Cheng forced herself to calm down: "I didn't kill Number Two, and I didn't lay a hand on Number One either. I don't know what happened, Fang He. Do you believe me?"

But before Fang He could answer, he heard the calm voice of Player Number Three coming from the doorway.

"No, Number Six," he said calmly. "After all, we have both witnesses and physical evidence. It's an undeniable fact. What more is there to argue about?"

Xiao Cheng completely ignored him and continued to look at Fang He seriously: "You left from the basement, and then I went back to my room and encountered Mosquito Girl. It hasn't actually been that long. I'm still not clear on the current situation, but..."

“No, you’re wrong.” Fang He’s expression turned deep, and he gave her a meaningful look. “It’s not that not much time has passed.”

Xiao Cheng was slightly taken aback; she felt as if she had overlooked something.

Then Fang He continued, "Perhaps you've forgotten the time, but... it's already midnight, the 6th."

The novelist scheduled the seminar for midnight, but Fang He and his group waited for a long time without seeing Xiao Cheng and the other two. So, at the novelist's suggestion, they went to the basement to look for them.

I never expected to witness this scene.

Player Number One was still gushing blood, his face was unrecognizable, and his breathing was getting weaker and weaker until he stopped making any sound. Only his chest was rising and falling slightly, proving that he still had a breath left.

Xiao Cheng stopped arguing and silently lowered her gaze, staring at Number One's blood-smeared face.

"So, is there anything else you want to say?" Fang He sighed softly.

Outside the door, the novelist, dressed in formal attire, walked in, pinching his nose, and looked at the scene inside with a sigh.

"Oh dear, this is truly..." He hesitated, glancing at Xiao Cheng, "It's unbelievable that such a tragedy would happen here. But now that the murderer has been caught, as the owner of this place, I suggest we lock her up for the time being. Let the dead rest in peace, the injured be healed, and then..."

"And then continue your inferior creations?" Xiao Cheng suddenly sneered, snatched the candlestick from Fang He's hand in the blink of an eye, and then stabbed it into his chest.

As she forcefully dragged her wrist downwards, the wound widened, almost ripping open her entire abdominal cavity. A thick, metallic smell of blood instantly filled the air. Fang He stared wide-eyed in disbelief: "You...you..."

A crisp sound of paper being torn rang out in the air, and all the surrounding scenery vanished, turning into countless tattered pieces of paper. Swept up by the hurricane, they engulfed Xiao Cheng and the novelist.

Fang He remained in the same position, as if frozen in place. The red blood gradually turned into black ink, pouring outwards until it dried up completely, turning into a thin paper figure that floated lightly to the ground, appearing weightless.

The novelist met Xiao Cheng's gaze, a look of keen interest on his face: "So how did you find out?"

Xiao Cheng didn't answer, his face expressionless as he flicked the blood off the candlestick and coldly asked, "So when was this trap set? Was it after Mosquito Girl's death and her entry into the basement, or was I already trapped in your creation long before?"

"However, I guess it won't be that early. After all, judging from this poor imitation, it's clear... you can't write the real Fang He."

"So the most reasonable guess is that the medium that brought me into the book was the blood of the Mosquito Woman?"

The novelist was not angry at all. Instead, he nodded with great appreciation: "You're right. You were even the first one to come to your senses. You are indeed a guest I have admired from the very beginning."

"But what's the use of that?" He waved his hand, and suddenly hundreds of phantom images of books appeared behind him.

The pages rustled incessantly as the novelist spread his arms wide with satisfaction: "They're all in my works. Can you find them? Can you bring them out? No, after all..."

He threw his head back and laughed arrogantly: "After all, in my world of absolute creation, I am the master, I am the king!"

Xiao Cheng watched his figure gradually become ethereal and indistinct.

She knew this wasn't his true form, but that didn't stop her from venting her anger by forcefully stabbing the candlestick into his forehead.

The shadows of books and people shattered instantly, and the surrounding fragments of pages suddenly froze completely, floating in the air.

The pages of the book were printed with fragmented sentences.

Xiao Cheng casually tossed aside the candlestick and patiently searched through the pieces one by one until she finally spotted that familiar name.

Fang He.

The moment her fingers touched it, the shards of the book burst forth with an exceptionally dazzling white light, enveloping her entirely and pulling her into the fragments.

Xiao Cheng felt a sudden dizziness, and the scene before her eyes changed abruptly.

The exceptionally luxurious circular hall features six robust jade pillars.

In the very center of the hall stood a huge circular wooden table, surrounded by six chairs. In the inner circle, a puppet dressed in an elegant white tailcoat raised a half-glass of red wine and nodded to her.