You made all the streamers on the internet kneel before you when you were asked to make a game.

Chapter 22 Toasting

Brother Long's brain was working at full speed.

The rule is that "you cannot refuse when elders serve you food."

He ate it, and although he felt nauseous, he survived.

Now, the rule for "toasting" is that "father and son drink together and finish it in one gulp".

If he doesn't drink this muddy water, something bad will definitely happen to him.

But if you drink it...

Brother Long glanced at his "father's" bluish-purple face and felt that the ingredients in this glass of wine were most likely related to formaldehyde.

What should I do?

The viewers in the live stream were even more anxious than he was.

"Brother Long, don't drink this! Drinking this stuff will definitely cause trouble!"

[Drink! You have to drink! Not drinking is unfilial! That bastard planner will definitely make your death even more miserable!]

Is it possible to pretend to drink it? Like spilling it on the ground?

[The person upstairs is naive. Try pouring the wine in front of your parents and see if they break your legs!]

The sweat on Brother Long's forehead had soaked through his hair.

He looked at his "father's" empty eyes and his stiff hand holding the wine glass.

Time is passing by, second by second.

The chilling aura grew stronger and stronger.

Brother Long could even feel that his "mother's" dark, hollow eyes were also turning towards him.

An invisible pressure, like a mountain, pressed down on us.

If he drags this on any longer, even if he doesn't drink, he'll be scared to death by this atmosphere.

Fight!

Brother Long gritted his teeth and made a snap decision.

He picked up the wine glass in front of him with trembling hands.

"Father! You're right!"

Brother Long shouted at the top of his lungs, in a tone of heroic sacrifice.

"Our son's back! It's time to have a good drink with him!"

He stood up, holding his wine glass in both hands, and bowed deeply to the middle-aged man.

"Father! I salute you!"

After saying that, he tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and gulped down the murky liquid in the cup.

A smell mixed with soil, rust, and rotting plant roots instantly filled his mouth and nose.

That taste was a hundred times better than the "chicken leg" from before.

Brother Long felt as if his soul was about to be suffocated by the smell.

But he held back.

He gritted his teeth, letting out a wild howl, and forced down the entire glass of "wine".

After finishing the drink, he turned the cup upside down, leaving not a single drop.

"Dad... I've finished drinking."

Brother Long's voice was trembling.

He felt like his stomach no longer belonged to him.

The middle-aged man, whose face was bluish-purple, seemed quite satisfied.

He tilted his head back and drank the liquid in the glass in one gulp.

Then, he slowly put down his wine glass.

"Good...good son."

A strange smile appeared on "Father's" face.

His bluish-purple skin seemed to have relaxed a bit.

The crisis... is over?

Brother Long breathed a long sigh of relief, feeling as if he had just been pulled out of the water, his whole body drenched in cold sweat.

Just as he was about to sit down, something unexpected happened.

Suddenly, the middle-aged man put down his chopsticks, stretched out a stiff hand, and slowly patted Brother Long's shoulder.

"My son, you've grown up."

"I know... I'll be filial to my parents."

His voice was still hoarse and unpleasant.

But his actions made the hairs on Brother Long's body stand on end.

That hand was icy cold, devoid of any human warmth.

It's like having a piece of zombie flesh frozen for hundreds of years draped over your shoulder.

Even more terrifying is...

Brother Long saw that his "father" had left a clear bluish-purple handprint on his shoulder when he patted him.

That handprint was the exact same color as the one on his "father's" hand.

It didn't look like a handprint.

Instead, it was his "father's" skin that was imprinted on his clothes, and even... seeped into his body.

[Warning! You have been infected by "corpse energy"!]

Your health is slowly decreasing!

A line of bright red notification flashed frantically in Brother Long's eyes.

Brother Long's pupils suddenly contracted.

He glanced down at his shoulder.

The bluish-purple handprint was clearly visible and emitted a faint stench of decay.

Holy crap!

Brother Long finally couldn't help but swear.

What the hell is this thing?

Having a drink now results in a debuff that causes continuous health loss?

You dog of a planner, have some decency!

The viewers in the live stream were stunned.

[Corpse aura corruption? Holy crap, this setting is awesome!]

[This game even has an addiction effect? Oh no, Brother Long is probably doomed.]

[This handprint is so damn realistic, I can feel the chill through the screen.]

So, eating paper vegetables deducts sanity, and drinking corpse wine reduces health? If you keep playing this game, you'll just die!

Happiness Apartment, Room 404.

Hao Ren looked at the clear handprint on Brother Long's shoulder and gave him a kind smile.

"This is nothing."

"The real show is just beginning."

This "corpse aura" effect was something he designed specifically.

It won't kill the player directly, but it will continuously put psychological pressure on the player.

Watching my health level drop little by little, and feeling the ever-present stench of death.

This slow, agonizing march toward death is far more terrifying than a single, sudden shock.

in the game.

Brother Long wanted to take off his clothes and wipe away the handprint.

但他不敢动.

Because his "father's" hand was still on his shoulder.

And his "mother's" dark, hollow eyes were always "staring" at him.

He felt like a frog being targeted by two venomous snakes; if he moved, he would be devoured instantly.

In this suffocating atmosphere.

The "daughter-in-law" who had been quiet all along, with her head covered by a red veil, finally made a move.

She slowly picked up a teapot from the table.

He poured a cup of red tea, as red as blood, into the empty cup in front of him.

Then, she stood up.

With stiff and strange steps, he walked step by step to Brother Long.

She presented the blood-red tea with both hands and held it to Brother Long's lips.

New rules have been introduced!

[Rule Three: When the bride serves tea, she must not raise her head or make a sound.]

Brother Long stared blankly at the cup of "tea" in front of him, which reeked of a strong, bloody smell.

Come again?

Are you trying to kill us all?

We've eaten and drunk.

Do you still want to drink tea?

Moreover, the rules this time are even more bizarre.

You must not look up or make a sound.

What does this mean?

Brother Long didn't dare to look up.

All he could see was a pair of feet wearing bright red embroidered shoes, which stopped in front of him.

The shoes are embroidered with a pair of lifelike mandarin ducks.

But the eyes of the mandarin ducks were embroidered with black thread, exuding an indescribable evil aura.

A chilling aura of resentment, even colder than the aura of a corpse, rushed towards them. Brother Long knew that this was the resentment of his "wife".

He had already learned that lesson in "The Red Veil".

If you drink this tea, who knows what even more terrifying consequences it might trigger.

If I don't drink...

Brother Long clutched the nitroglycerin pills in his pocket tightly, his palms sweating profusely.

What should I do?

The two rules, "No looking up, no making a sound," weighed on him like two mountains, making it hard for him to breathe.

Being unable to look up means he cannot observe the "bride's" expressions and movements, and cannot anticipate danger.

Being forbidden to make a sound meant he could not beg for mercy, could not communicate, and could not even scream.

He could only passively accept whatever was about to happen.

This feeling of completely losing control nearly drove Brother Long to the brink of collapse.

He stared at the blood-red cup of tea being brought to his lips, his body trembling uncontrollably.

The chat room fell into an eerie silence.

Everyone held their breath.

This cup of tea could very well be the last straw that breaks Brother Long's back.

"Brother Long, don't drink this! I think there's something wrong with this tea!"

There's definitely something wrong with this! Have you ever seen red tea? This is fucking blood!

[But the rules are written: the bride is to be served tea. Although it doesn't say you have to drink it, it seems like not drinking it would be a death sentence.]

I feel the key lies in the last two rules: "No looking up, no making a sound"—that's the trap!

What if he looks up or makes a sound?

No one can answer this question.

But everyone had a terrifying premonition.

Brother Long also thought of that.

Games designed by dogs never offer easy options.

Every rule is a trap.

He is now facing not a choice between drinking or not drinking.

The question is... how did they die?

Did they drink this blood tea and get killed by what's inside?

Or will he violate the rule of "not looking up or making a sound" and be killed by the paper bride in front of him?

That cup of tea remained quietly hovering near Brother Long's lips.