"This one is Pi Ruan."

…

As each name was called, the number of sticks in the signing bucket dwindled. The shock on Lin Qianqian's face instantly morphed into terror. She didn't understand how Wang Fugui dared to do this. Wasn't he afraid of accidentally drawing a death stick?

Besides... besides, how did this even work? Shouldn't the rule for drawing lots be that each person takes a turn?

In her view, these so-called life-and-death sticks were just like the famous Russian roulette, a gambling game where lives were on the line. The rules of the latter involved placing a bullet in the cylinder of a revolver, spinning the cylinder randomly, closing it, and then having the participants take turns pointing the gun at their own heads and pulling the trigger.

The one who survived to the end was the winner.

But this fatso didn't play by the rules!

His behavior was like pointing a gun at himself and firing multiple shots in a row. Lin Qianqian was overcome with a strange sense of panic. She suspected… no, she was almost certain that this fatty was going to empty almost the entire cylinder, and then leave the last bullet for her.

Was he crazy?

How dare he?

Wasn't he worried that…

Lin Qianqian's inner turmoil reached its climax at this moment. Her heart was in her throat because Wang Fugui had drawn another black stick, leaving only two sticks in the bucket.

Clutching the third-to-last stick, Wang Fugui said in a low voice, "This stick is for all those who have been deceived by the upper echelons of the Night Watchers."

"They were all young people, full of enthusiasm, hoping to make the world a better place with their efforts, even at the cost of their lives, but in return, they were deceived and exploited until their last ounce of value was squeezed out and they were discarded like garbage."

At that moment, countless faces flashed through the fatty's mind—members of Deep Red, and even Xu Yi, Liu Guo, Hua Luo, An Xuan… these ordinary people who were not so ordinary.

They faithfully carried out the oaths they had sworn when they joined the Night Watchers, and most of them never realized that they were living in a giant lie, even until their deaths.

Just as someone had once lamented, they were not afraid of death, but afraid of being deceived.

Lin Qianqian didn't feel anything in particular about the fatty's words. She wasn't someone who could be easily swayed, but at that moment, a strange feeling suddenly arose within her.

Curiosity.

Yes, it was curiosity!

She stared intently at the two remaining sticks in the bucket. She was very curious, extremely curious, about what could be more important to Wang Fugui after this near-final declaration.

After all, the next stick would be the last.

Under Lin Qianqian's tense gaze, the fatty reached out his hand. He became cautious as he drew the last stick, but Lin Qianqian could clearly feel that it wasn't the fear of drawing the wrong stick that made him apprehensive. He was suppressing, suppressing his inner emotions.

Only at this moment did Lin Qianqian realize that she had never truly seen through this man named Wang Fugui.

Slowly drawing out the last stick, the fatty's fingertips trembled, "This stick… is for the Doctor."

"You brought him into this world, but after he truly developed emotions and had a family, you took it all away, just to plunge him into despair."

"How cruel. Did you ever consider his feelings?"

"Of course not. How could you high and mighty people consider the feelings of a 'tool'? You're used to it." The fatty laughed, tears streaming down his face. "Because you're a bunch of cold and selfish bastards."

After seeing the stick that the fatty had drawn, Lin Qianqian broke down, "No, no, that's impossible… You cheated! Wang Fugui, you're as damned as that Jiang Cheng. You cheated!"

"You're the one who deserves to die! It's you!"

Looking at the hysterical Lin Qianqian, there was no trace of pity in the fatty's eyes. He clutched the drawn sticks in one hand and held the signing bucket in the other, walking step by step toward Lin Qianqian.

Young Master followed closely behind him, his mouth slightly open. His sewn-shut eyes seemed to still be able to see the scene before him, "staring" at Lin Qianqian, who was collapsed on the ground.

"The Doctor can't be schemed against by someone like you, but you shouldn't have mentioned him to me. Whether he's okay or not, I won't let you go, and neither will Luo Tianhe."

Looking down at Lin Qianqian, the fatty slowly released his left hand. More than a dozen black sticks fell like arrows, landing in front of Lin Qianqian. Then, under Lin Qianqian's despairing gaze, he placed the signing bucket with the only remaining stick in front of her.

Staring at the only stick left inside, Lin Qianqian trembled like a sieve. The next moment, she didn't know where she found the strength, pushing the signing bucket away fiercely and running backward.

She didn't know where to run, but she had to get out of here!

She wouldn't die. How could she die? She was much stronger than this Wang Fugui!

The signing bucket was knocked over, and the only remaining stick seemed to have a life of its own. After falling out of the bucket, it landed perfectly, sticking straight into the ground, its red end pointing upwards, like a tombstone.

Lin Qianqian plunged into the endless mist and quickly disappeared, but the fatty wasn't worried at all. After all, this was the Path to the Underworld, as Lin Qianqian herself had told him. It wasn't so easy to leave.

He had won this round.

Sure enough, a shrill scream soon came from the mist, along with the sounds of kicking and struggling. A moment later, Lin Qianqian emerged, dragged out by the hair by several headless corpses.

She was no longer as high-spirited as before. Her appearance was extremely miserable, her clothes were tattered, and she was covered in blood. Her left arm and right leg were twisted in strange positions, dragging limply on the ground, clearly broken. Her eyes were filled with despair.

As she gasped for breath, blood foam kept pouring from the corners of her mouth.

"Cough… cough, cough…"

"Let… let me go…"

As the headless corpses lifted Lin Qianqian's body and stuffed it into the coffin, she continued to beg, but she no longer had the strength to struggle. As the coffin lid slowly closed, Lin Qianqian's world also went dark.

"Bang!"

"Bang!"

…

Thick, finger-sized black nails were hammered into the coffin by the headless ghosts, sealing the lid tightly onto the coffin. Finally, with a piercing wail, the eight headless ghosts returned to their respective positions and lifted the coffin together, taking large strides forward.

Young Master reached out his hand one last time and pointed the fatty in the direction of the coffin-carrying procession, then slowly retreated into the mist, his figure quickly disappearing.

The fatty hurried forward, following behind the coffin-carrying headless ghosts, and soon discovered a strange scene. These headless ghosts weren't walking at all, but were simply treading in place.

It wasn't them that were moving, but the road beneath their feet.