There Must Be Something Wrong With This Game!

The sound from the television was sharp and piercing, making Duan Fei and Jinghong instinctively cover their ears.

Wails of grief erupted from all four rooms simultaneously. The surround-sound effect filled the space with a woman’s screams, sending the terrifying atmosphere skyrocketing.

When the sounds finally stopped, Duan Fei lowered his hands from his ears and noticed a new object had appeared beneath the hallway lamp ahead.

Bloody footprints circled the object several times, as if intentionally highlighting its importance.

Leading Jinghong, who kept her eyes squeezed shut, Duan Fei slowly approached and saw it was a small, black sedan. The model was old, likely an early Santana, giving it a rather nostalgic feel.

Judging by the tenement-style building, the setting seemed to be the nineties. The residents of this kind of company-provided welfare housing likely couldn’t afford such a car.

If this car was connected to the family here, then the Profession of the head of the household could probably be guessed.

A driver.

And likely one who chauffeured some important official.

Picking up the small, black sedan, Duan Fei saw the item information appear on it.

"Damaged Sedan: Uncontaminated, Gray (Worn), Cannot be taken out.

Description: A gray, damaged sedan. It looks like a toy, but the craftsmanship is incredibly realistic. It seems to have been in a serious car accident. Upon closer inspection, you will discover that its brake line has been cut."

’The brake line was cut?’

Looking at this information, and combining it with the news report he’d heard earlier and the wife’s bizarre behavior, a story began to take shape.

The husband, who was driving, took his wife out, intentionally cut the brake line to stage a car crash, and used it to commit insurance fraud.

However, Duan Fei didn’t jump to that conclusion. Instead, he led Jinghong through the rest of the floor before heading down to the next one.

For some reason, he had a feeling this instance wasn’t that simple.

After all, the key hadn’t appeared, and the first objective, "Go Down," wasn’t complete yet. He felt there had to be something more interesting below.

The time on the next floor was even later.

A full moon hung high in the sky, the hallway lamps were off, and the entire building seemed to have fallen into a deep slumber, allowing the surrounding silence to ferment.

Turning on his phone’s flashlight, Duan Fei found that the bloody footprints were gone from the floor.

But the surroundings had become exceptionally dilapidated. The railing on the right was covered in rust.

The lights in the rooms were off. Only the televisions were on, casting a faint glow.

Knowing there were no more bloody footprints, Jinghong let out a sigh of relief. She then opened her eyes and said earnestly, "I’m not scared."

"I know."

"I’m really not scared!"

"There’s something on the wall..."

Jinghong slowly and calmly closed her eyes. "I am not scared," she said with great seriousness.

"...I give up."

Using his phone to illuminate the scene, Duan Fei looked into the room and saw they were still eating.

But the boy’s clothes had changed. His original padded cotton jacket was now a hospital gown.

Furthermore, the boy’s head had been shaved, and a wound snaked across his scalp like a centipede.

The television was now covered in dust. The husband’s face was overgrown with stubble, and the mother had turned into a paper doll, still bleeding profusely.

Now it looked as if the paper doll was feeding the husband and child with her own blood, allowing them to continue living.

The television was still on. A figure, hidden behind the screen of static, repeated the same word over and over: "Guilty... Guilty..."

The facts of the case seemed to be getting clearer.

But the clearer they became, the more Duan Fei felt that something was wrong.

This instance seemed to be deliberately hinting at one thing: the husband was guilty.

He cut the brake line. He deliberately crashed the car with his wife and son inside. He killed his wife for the insurance money and left his son gravely injured. He is guilty.

At that moment, the television’s volume suddenly blasted to its maximum. The TVs on this floor, on every floor, echoed each other, shouting in unison: "Guilty! Guilty!"

Amid the landslide of shouts, Duan Fei lowered his head, said nothing, and continued downward.

The moment he stepped onto the next floor, the chorus of "Guilty" from the entire building vanished.

The surroundings grew even darker. The hallway lamps were gone, but the rooms were still bright.

Inside the room, the three of them were still eating, only now the paper-doll mother had become a wax figure.

The top of her head was burning, and the melting wax rolled down like tears, dripping into the food before her.

As time passed, the wax figure continued to melt until it collapsed into a puddle on the floor, like a pile of rotten flesh.

And by the door, Duan Fei found the second item.

A pair of wire cutters.

The wire cutters looked small and delicate. Anyone could have used them to easily snip a brake line and then wait for an "accident" to happen.

"Wire Cutters: Uncontaminated, Green (Excellent), Can be taken out.

Description: A pair of wire cutters imbued with resentment. Even a child could operate them easily. His fingerprints are on them."

After reading the wire cutters’ Description, Duan Fei started to understand a few things, but he still needed to investigate further.

He continued downward.

On the next floor, time instantly fast-forwarded to day. Amid the bright light, the room inside looked like a chaotic scene.

The wife in the room was now censored by a mosaic. The food on the table was censored. The man and boy’s meals were also censored.

This was no longer a subtle hint.

The instance was now blatantly revealing its hostility toward the man, all but pointing at his back and screaming, "You’re guilty, you murderer!"

Looking at the scene in the room, Duan Fei could feel an intense hatred.

Someone harbored a profound hatred for the man, and for the boy, and was trying to transmit that emotion to Duan Fei and Jinghong, to make them believe the man was guilty too.

After traversing this floor, Duan Fei and Jinghong found no stairs leading down. Instead, where the stairs should have been, they discovered a new item.

A handgun.

"Handgun: Uncontaminated, White (Common), Cannot be taken out.

Description: An ordinary handgun containing one bullet. Shoot the sinner. This is the end of your journey."

At the same time, the door to apartment 1 on this floor swung open, as if inviting Duan Fei and Jinghong to enter.

Stepping into the room where time stood still, Duan Fei saw a trail of footprints slowly light up on the floor, leading directly behind the husband.

As if afraid Duan Fei wouldn’t understand its intention, the television flickered to life. The figure hidden behind the screen said, "Do it. Take the shot."

From beginning to end, the husband had barely changed.

Other than his beard growing longer, his expression remained indifferent. Nothing around him seemed to disturb his mood, or his meal.

Looking at the man up close, Duan Fei saw he was probably just thirty, but already weathered by life. His face held an indifference to life and death that was completely unlike that of a criminal who would murder his wife for insurance money.

Standing behind the husband, Duan Fei raised the handgun and aimed it at the back of his head.

The figure in the television held its breath, waiting for the thrilling moment.

But then, it heard Duan Fei’s voice.

"Is that really what happened?"

Then, Duan Fei put down the toy car, turned the gun, and fired a shot at it.

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