Since all these rules and superstitions are outdated, what's wrong with me indulging in some me

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"You want to kill someone?" His voice wasn't loud, but every word pierced everyone's ears like nails. "I'll teach you."

He walked toward the nearest servant.

The attendant had the number 37 written on his forehead. He looked about a head taller than Meng Boyuan and appeared young and strong, but at this moment, there was fear in his eyes.

Meng Boyuan walked up to him and stopped. He looked up at his face.

"What are you afraid of?" Meng Boyuan asked.

The servant's lips trembled, and he remained silent. A faint "hoarse" sound came from his throat; he was too terrified to speak.

"You're afraid of dying."

Meng Boyuan spoke for him, his voice as calm as if stating a fact, and then he reached out and placed his hand on the attendant's chest.

"But you never considered that death might be better than life."

Meng Boyuan suddenly exerted force, and an invisible force pierced through the servant's body, causing the servant to stiffen abruptly.

His eyes were wide open, his mouth agape as if he wanted to say something, but only a "hoarse" sound came from his throat. His body slowly went limp under Meng Boyuan's hands.

boom.

His head hit the stone slab with a dull thud.

The surroundings were deathly silent. Everyone seemed to be stunned. The numbers on Meng Boyuan's forehead were rising rapidly. No one expected that this inconspicuous old man would make a move at this moment, and with such swift and decisive force.

Meng Boyuan didn't look at the servant lying on the ground, nor did he look at the people around him. The different and strange looks from the people around him did not change or stop his behavior in the slightest.

He has moved on to the next person.

He was a young slave, in his early twenties, with the number 14 written on his forehead.

He had just narrowly escaped in the first round, but before he could catch his breath, a new threat of death struck again.

He stood in the corner, his back against the stone wall, his hands groping behind him as if looking for something to grab onto.

"No—don't come any closer—" His voice was shrill and piercing, "I don't want to die—I don't want to die—"

Meng Boyuan did not stop.

He walked up to the young slave, reached out, and placed his hand on his forehead.

With a flick of his finger, the young slave's forehead was pierced, shattering along with the number 14.

The young slave's body slid down the stone wall, sat on the ground, head tilted to one side, eyes half-closed, mouth slightly open.

Only then did people seem to wake up from a dream, and screams began to erupt in the lobby.

Some people were running, some were dodging, and some were pushing and shoving. Countless sounds merged into a noisy roar, like a living hell.

Meng Boyuan did not stop.

His steps remained steady as he moved naturally through the crowd. Each time he reached a person, he would place his hand on that person's forehead and flick it gently. The numbers on the forehead would shatter, and the person would fall to the ground.

One by one.

The bolder among them began to imitate Meng Boyuan's behavior, grabbing whatever weapons were at hand and engaging in reckless fighting, and this behavior was starting to escalate.

Lu Changsheng stood there, watching all of this.

He felt he was getting closer and closer to the truth.

But it seems that the most crucial point is still missing.

Countless clues surged wildly in my mind, but they all seemed to be missing a crucial point.

Xiao Yuheng stood below the platform, his black robes motionless amidst the chaotic crowd. His face still held that gentle, jade-like smile, his grey eyes slightly narrowed, like a cat watching ants fight.

His number is still 96.

As stable as a rock.

He wasn't looking at Meng Boyuan. He was looking at Lu Changsheng.

Their eyes met in the chaotic air.

Lu Changsheng's fingers twitched slightly, but the next second, instead of making any rash moves, he withdrew his hand.

He turned around and looked towards the stairwell.

An Zhiyu was already standing in the shadows at the entrance of the hall stairs, her left hand holding a sword and her right hand hanging at her side.

Her face was expressionless, but when she met Lu Changsheng's gaze, she nodded slightly.

Lu Changsheng nodded as well.

They moved at the same time. Lu Changsheng suddenly ran towards the stairs. An Zhiyu went up the stairs first, and Lu Changsheng followed behind her. The two of them walked quickly, one after the other.

Because the hall was so chaotic, not many people noticed for a moment that Lu Changsheng and An Zhiyu had already run away from the hall.

They went up to the second floor.

"Something's not right." An Zhiyu's cold face was serious. "What exactly are these two up to?"

Lu Changsheng knew, of course, that An Zhiyu was referring to Xiao Yuheng and the old man Meng Boyuan.

If he still can't see that Xiao Yuheng and Meng Boyuan are in cahoots in the current situation, he'd really be a fool.

"No, according to the rules. As the owner of the castle, Xiao Yuheng has the ability to issue rules, but it is only temporary. He can only issue one rule per day, and each rule can only last for 24 hours."

Lu Changsheng frowned.

What was unusual was that Xiao Yuheng announced three rules right at the beginning of the day in the hall.

However, the butler secretly committed murder, violating Rule Two. The castle owner, Xiao Yuheng, decided to cancel Rule Two, thus saving the butler's life.

That illustrates a point.

The first and third rules are the original rules of this castle ceremony. Only the second rule is one that Xiao Yuheng himself specified. The purpose is to make the butler kill as many high-scoring people as possible, and even he himself is one of the butler's targets.

After the matter was exposed, Xiao Yuheng decisively canceled Rule Two, directly saving the butler's life.

So, the problem lies with this banquet.

This "ninth-rank" ceremony is part of the castle's rules, so why is this "ninth-rank" ceremony being carried out at this time?

What is the purpose of this "ninth-level" ritual? What is its aim? Is it to make everyone kill each other?

Countless images of Xiao Qingniao's corpse flashed through Lu Changsheng's mind. He suddenly froze, and a bold conjecture emerged in his mind: was it possible that the killing of Xiao Qingniao had happened more than once?

Does each appearance represent the beginning of a new cycle of reincarnation?

Each cycle of reincarnation seems to begin at the cost of Xiao Qingniao's death.

What is the purpose?

Lu Changsheng was suddenly stunned. He and An Zhiyu exchanged a glance, and An Zhiyu had obviously realized it as well.

What other purpose could there be?

Since even Xiao Qingniao, who achieved a perfect score of 100, didn't have a good ending, then reaching 100 points is a completely impossible path. Since the path to godhood is blocked, the only way is to escape.

If Lu Changsheng and An Zhiyu are not mistaken, everything Xiao Yuheng and the old man Meng Boyuan did was to escape the castle and its rating system.

Lu Changsheng suddenly stopped in his tracks.

An Zhiyu tilted her head and asked:

"What's wrong?"

"Shen Ye," Lu Changsheng said, his voice a little tense, "he's not in the hall just now."

An Zhiyu remained silent for a moment.

The two of them realized at the same time that everyone in the hall, whether servants, slaves, employees, stewards, or even the steward and Xiao Yuheng, was there.

But Shen Ye wasn't there.

Then there are only two possibilities: Shen Ye is already dead, or Shen Ye, because of his status as an outsider, although he entered this rating system, is not subject to any of the castle's rules.

"He's not dead."

When Lu Changsheng uttered those three words, his tone was not one of speculation, but of certainty.

An Zhiyu looked at him without saying anything, waiting for him to continue.

"If Shen Ye is dead, Xiao Yuheng won't be so calm." Lu Changsheng's mind was racing. "He's watching the show from the high platform, his eyes are searching for me. He's making sure I haven't noticed Shen Ye's absence."

An Zhiyu nodded slightly in agreement.

"Furthermore—the butler's killings in the lobby weren't random," Lu Changsheng continued. "Did you notice the scores of the victims?"

An Zhiyu recalled for a moment.

Between seventy and eighty.

"Yes," Lu Changsheng said, "They're from the highest score range. Why?"

An Zhiyu frowned slightly.

"Because people with high scores would threaten him."

"Or—" Lu Changsheng paused for a moment, "it would take up a 'spot'."

An Zhiyu's pupils contracted slightly.

"Spots?"

"The escape slots," Lu Changsheng said. "Xiao Yuheng and Meng Boyuan have been plotting for so many years, not to become gods. They already know that the path to godhood is a dead end. What they want to do is escape. But this 'escape' may not be possible for everyone. The slots are limited."

"So they're eliminating competitors."

"But Shen Ye is an outsider. Although he has points, he shouldn't be completely restricted by the castle's rules. If the number of people who can escape is fixed, Shen Ye's existence will take up one of those spots."

Lu Changsheng paused, his gaze intense.

An Zhiyu placed her hand on the hilt of the sword.

"Which floor does Shen Ye live on?"

"Fourth floor. At the end of the corridor, on the same floor as Madam Song."

The two of them didn't say anything more, turned around at the same time, and ran towards the fourth floor.

The wall lamps in the stairwell were still on, casting small patches of dim light on the stone steps. Lu Changsheng ran ahead, with An Zhiyu following behind, their footsteps echoing in the empty stairwell.

The corridor on the fourth floor was similar to that on the third floor, and Shen Ye's room was at the end of the corridor.

The door was closed.

Lu Changsheng walked to the door, didn't knock, and directly grasped the doorknob. The brass felt cold to the touch as he turned the doorknob.

The door wasn't locked.

The moment the door opened, a rusty smell wafted out.

The room lights were on, and the light from the wall lamps shone on the deep red carpet, where a dark red pool of liquid was slowly spreading.

blood.

blood.

Lots of blood.

Madam Song lay in the pool of blood, her eyes half-open, her pupils dilated, her mouth slightly open, as if she were saying something she hadn't finished.

There was a larger pool of blood under the back of her head, mixed with some grayish-white, viscous substance.

Lu Changsheng squatted down and examined her wound.

"Blunt blows," he said. "At least three to the back of the head. The first one would be fatal; the next two would be superfluous."

An Zhiyu stood by the door, her gaze sweeping across the entire room. The bed was neatly made, the blankets folded squarely, the pillows placed at the head of the bed, and there were no signs of a struggle.

"Shen Ye is not here."

An Zhiyu said that her gaze paused, and she walked to the side of the coffee table because there was a very shallow, almost invisible bloodstain next to the coffee table.

"It must be Shen Ye who is injured."

Lu Changsheng followed the bloodstain. The bloodstain stretched from the carpet to the doorway, seemingly heading towards the stairs.

But An Zhiyu didn't move. She glanced at the heavy curtains to the side and gave Lu Changsheng a look.

someone.

Lu Changsheng nodded calmly. An Zhiyu's sword was already drawn an inch from its sheath, the silver blade gleaming coldly in the darkness.

Then the curtains were lifted.

Shen Ye.

His face was as white as paper, his forehead was covered in sweat, his right hand was covering his left arm, the sleeve of his left arm was covered in blood, and blood was dripping down from between his fingers.

Upon seeing Lu Changsheng, Shen Ye visibly breathed a sigh of relief, his eyes brightening slightly.

"Was it Mrs. Song who did it?" Lu Changsheng asked.

Shen Ye nodded, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"She came to see me." His voice was very hoarse. "She said she knew about Niao Niao and wanted to help me."

He paused for a moment, a bitter smile curving his lips.

"I thought she genuinely wanted to help me. I let her in."

Shen Ye's breathing became a little rapid.

"She walked past me from behind. I thought she was going to get some water. Then she took out a knife and tried to kill me. Luckily, I know some martial arts and dodged it, but then she slashed my arm."

"I didn't want to kill her either, but it seems like I hit her too hard the first time."

Shen Ye looked at Madam Song, who had recently died, on the carpet, his face filled with bitterness.

"Then I was afraid that someone else would come in and kill me, so I hid."

Lu Changsheng nodded. This Shen Ye is quite clever. He even knows how to fake bloodstains to make people think he has escaped. If An Zhiyu hadn't been so perceptive, she might not have been able to find out.

Lu Changsheng looked at Shen Ye's pale, almost transparent face and remained silent for a moment.

"Mr. Shen, are you able to escape?"

Shen Ye was stunned. His lips moved, but in the end he nodded.

"Yes," he said.

Lu Changsheng's eyes lit up slightly.

"I tried it." Shen Ye's voice was low. "Last night, after the banquet ended, I went to the main entrance on the first floor."

"No one stopped me. No rules held me back. Nothing was in my way. My hand was already on the doorknob; all I had to do was press down and it would open."

He paused for a moment, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

"But I didn't push him away."

"Why?" An Zhiyu asked.

Shen Ye closed his eyes, as if recalling that moment.

"Because of Niaoniao," he said, "the matter of Niaoniao hasn't been fully investigated yet, and I always feel that I can help you in some way."

His voice suddenly choked up, as if something was stuck in his throat, something he couldn't swallow or spit out.