Chapter 42 Drawing Lots

No one considered going upstairs, but it was already dark. Venturing into new territory at this hour didn't seem wise, and who could guarantee that upstairs would be any safer?

Soon, the people responsible for drawing lots were chosen: Miao Qing from Group 1 and Jiang Zhao from Group 3, both leaders of their respective groups. Just as everyone thought Jiang Cheng from Group 2 would be sent, Jiang Cheng tossed his head and looked at Fatty, saying, "The organization needs you now."

"Oh, okay," Fatty waddled forward, nodding his big head.

Mu Wanming found a crumpled piece of paper from somewhere, tore it into three roughly equal strips, and took out a pen. She was about to mark them when Miao Qing interrupted.

"We'll do it," Miao Qing said politely, but his eyes were full of distrust towards Jiang Zhao and his group.

"As Mr. Miao wishes." Jiang Zhao smiled, took the paper and pen, handed them to Miao Qing, and explained, "My previous unpleasantness was because I was possessed by a ghost. It won't happen again. I hope we can cooperate sincerely in the future. I will show you my sincerity."

"We hope to see Mr. Jiang's sincerity. Our goals are the same: to survive." Seeing Jiang Zhao offer an olive branch, Miao Qing was happy to accept it. After all, the mission hadn't officially started yet, and it wouldn't benefit anyone to make things too difficult at this point.

Jiang Zhao nodded amiably and then looked at Jiang Cheng. He knew that this person was the core of Group 2 and the most difficult to deal with. "Little friend Jiang..."

"Live through tonight before you talk about anything else." Jiang Cheng didn't even bother to acknowledge him. This man was capable of using someone else's name from the start, and would sell out his teammates if faced with danger. Expecting him to cooperate sincerely was like believing Fatty could fly.

"Achoo!" Fatty suddenly sneezed.

Jiang Zhao's face turned red and then white. Although he still wore that kind smile, it looked somewhat distorted.

Bai Xiaojie first carefully checked each slip of paper and, finding no problems, used a pen to lightly mark one of them. Then, she folded the three strips into small squares, shuffled them, and placed them on the ground. "Because I prepared them, your two groups will draw first." Everyone understood that Bai Xiaojie was doing this to avoid suspicion.

Jiang Zhao's gaze lingered on the three squares for a few seconds before he reached out and took one, but he didn't open it immediately. Instead, he held onto the slip of paper and looked at Miao Qing and Fatty, obviously waiting for them to draw together.

"Brother Wang," Miao Qing said to Fatty, reminding him, "It's your turn."

"What are you dawdling about? Hurry up!" Mu Wanming rubbed her arms. She felt uneasy here. She'd rather be inside a room than standing in the corridor.

The sky outside was already darkening, and the end of the corridor was shadowy, as if something was standing in the darkness.

Fatty squatted in front of the remaining two slips of paper and, without much hesitation, grabbed one.

Miao Qing picked up the last one, but before he could open it, he saw Fatty unfold the slip of paper he'd drawn on the ground, scratch his head, and say in a simple and somewhat embarrassed manner, "Um... I drew the marked one."

The unfolded paper had a check mark on it.

Even Huai Yi could see some clues now. It seemed that Brother Fugui wasn't very good at fighting in Scarlet Night. His abilities hadn't been shown yet. How to describe it? He was like Scarlet Night's mascot, with ridiculously high agility and luck.

Moreover, this aura seemed to infect those around him. During the time he'd been with Jiang Cheng and Fatty, the door in his body had been much quieter. He even felt a sense of being healed.

"Little friend Wang is very lucky," Jiang Zhao praised insincerely.

"Losers must accept their fate," Miao Qing said, putting away his slip of paper and standing up.

For now, the doors that seemed to have problems were not the three connected ones. Jiang Cheng chose two adjacent rooms for Fatty and Huai Yi, and Jiang Cheng lived across from them so that he could take care of them if something happened.

Soon, everyone had chosen their rooms. Miao Qing volunteered to take one of the two doors suspected of having problems, while Jiang Zhao's group continued to draw lots until Mu Wanming walked out with a face full of resentment. Clearly, she had won the "prize."

Just as Mu Wanming took a deep breath, opened the remaining door suspected of having problems, and was about to walk in, an old voice sounded, "Wanming." Jiang Zhao quickly walked over. "Let me switch with you." He pursed his lips slightly, a rare hint of sincerity flashing in his eyes.

Mu Wanming was stunned. "Master..."

Jiang Zhao patted her arm and said with a wry smile, "Go on. You don't have much experience. Let me take this door for you."

"Thank you, Master." Mu Wanming went to Jiang Zhao's original door. Jiang Zhao had already opened it, revealing a black crack. In addition to her joy she was inevitably moved, her master still cared about her.

Ouyang Huanbin snorted and then went into his room.

Jiang Cheng's room was small, simply furnished like a hotel: a bed, a table near the window, and an armchair. The window was narrow and the lighting was poor.

Jiang Cheng tried it and the window could only be opened about one-fifth of the way before it got stuck. Even a head couldn't fit through the gap. In the real world, Jiang Cheng would think it was because they were worried about someone falling out of the window, but here, his first reaction was that it was to prevent the people in this room from escaping.

With this thought in mind, he began to inspect the room with a specific purpose. The lights in the room flickered, providing limited illumination. The situation only improved slightly when Jiang Cheng found a few candles in the drawer.

He continued rummaging through the drawer and found a few pieces of cloth and a box of nails.

When he moved the chair, he found it surprisingly heavy. After a careful inspection, he was surprised to discover that it was actually an iron chair, painted with a wood-colored coating. In the dim environment, it was impossible to detect without touching it.

Moreover, there were traces of repeated friction on the front end of the chair's armrests.

Next, he found scratches on the lower part of the chair legs, concentrated on the two front legs, while the two back legs had none.

Slowly, a picture appeared in Jiang Cheng's mind. Someone had once been trapped in this iron chair, their hands and feet fixed, probably with iron handcuffs and shackles.

And these marks were left by the person's constant struggles.

As he ran his fingers over the scratches, for a moment, he seemed to feel the person's pain and despair.

What exactly is this place?

Jiang Cheng couldn't help but stand up, his gaze strangely directed towards the corridor. Could it be that these rooms were all used to imprison people? Was this not a residence before, but a prison for confining criminals?

But there was no reason for a prison to have such elaborate decorations downstairs, and the overall layout of the building didn't seem like it either.