Infinite Murder Mystery Game: The Beauty with a Delicate Palm

Qin Zheng slapped Su Huaishan on the shoulder, and he cried out in pain. The two fought from the back of the car to the front.

Su Mian discovered something. She went over to the trunk and pulled out a small picture book. Judging from the cardboard cover and the handwriting, it was a handicraft she made when she was a child.

十二生肖守护神

Sleeping

"The twelve zodiac animals help each other and will never be separated."

Her pupils contracted slightly as she opened the small booklet made of cardboard. With each page she turned, her heart skipped a beat.

child time.

The left half of the double-page spread features a hunched-over, fierce-looking "fighting rat," while the right half contains information about it.

"The leader of the guardians is tall and mighty, a role model for everyone. He is the Rat."

Su Huaishan was born in the Year of the Rat, as was her father. When Su Mian was a child, she drew this picture book, depicting the rat as tall, mighty, and capable of standing alone.

She just wanted her father to be stronger. In her memory, her father was always beaten and scolded by her mother, and he seemed weak and incompetent.

I never had the concept of being "afraid of my wife" growing up, so I naturally assumed that my father was weak.

So she drew the mouse to resemble whatever she wanted her father to be like.

Another page turned; it was the hour of Chou (1-3 AM).

A bluish-black ox, head bowed and eyebrows lowered, a small silver ring hanging on its horn, its eyes casually sketched with a few strokes, as if the brush suddenly broke when it reached this point.

The small print next to it reads:

"Uncle Ugly Ox is the most serious and meticulous. He helps me check my homework and can spot the mistakes at a glance, but he never tattles on me."

"Sister Rabbit doesn't like to talk; she likes to daydream."

Su Mian's hands turned the pages faster and faster, and her breathing became more and more rapid. Everything about her coincided with the arbitrators she had met. Although the setting was too naive, it was still very consistent.

Why do I have no recollection of it? Because it happened when I was a child, and I don't usually have the urge to sleep around. I'm usually like a "dead person" when I do sleep.

Everything I did was forced upon me by the kindergarten, and then I threw it away. This book is still here, probably because my parents secretly took it.

She stopped when she turned to the hour of Si (9-11 AM).

The picture shows a snake coiled up, with densely drawn scales, one grid at a time, in dark brown. In her childhood drawings, this snake had a triangular head, a blood-red tongue, and sinister eyes.

The writing on the side was done with great force, the pencil marks were embedded in the paper, almost puncturing it.

"The scariest guardian spirit ever!!!"

"The snake is incredibly long, hiding in the grass. It hiss ...

Su Mian stared at the snake.

She remembered that summer evening, in her grandfather's vegetable garden, under the tomato trellis, a red-tailed python slowly crawled by.

It is actually very small, about the thickness of a finger, half a meter long, with an oval head, and it crawls very, very slowly.

But she screamed in fright.

Her father ran over, picked her up, let her ride on his shoulders, and showed her how the snake slowly swam into the drainage ditch.

That was the first time Su Mian had ever seen a snake, and it terrified her so much that she would often have nightmares about a black snake lunging at her and biting her.

As for whether the bite incident actually happened or was a nightmare, Su Mian can no longer remember.

"Mianmian, get in the car! What are you standing there for?"

Su Mian abruptly closed the picture book and walked absentmindedly to the car.

As the car started moving, evergreen trees rushed past behind us, and fragmented memories flooded back like a tide.

She couldn't tell whether it was fate or coincidence; those things from another world seemed to be both near and far from her.

The truth seemed within reach, yet it always slipped away into the fog, just a hair's breadth away.

"The player's memories form the framework of the infinite flow world."

"All dungeons, all games, including game rules, are the dark side of the human heart, or a nightmare that appears by chance."

It turns out that everything the bookstore owner said was true.

You are inherently connected to that world. Humanity is part of the creation of another world, a spiritual world, a spiritual world that is constantly forgotten and rewritten.

Created by humans, it should have benefited humanity, so why does it filter out those who provide nightmares?

They should have been forgotten.

A voice told Su Mian, but she had already thought too far ahead, unable to extricate herself from a kind of nihilism, falling into a winding vortex.

Was the creator god also human?

If the Twelve-Hour Arbitration Committee is an imagined entity, why does it claim to be a higher-dimensional being?

If the human population were to drastically decrease, could the infinite flow world still be maintained?

Can she go back into the other world?

She has very few points left.

The end of the world may not have come with a sound, but it may have been lurking and hiding until people realized that there was no way out.

The wind blew, making my eyes sting. Su Mian rolled up the car window, and the view outside became blurry.

Then someone else fell straight down without warning and disappeared from sight.

-

In the world of infinite flow, there is a place known as the forbidden zone for players: outside the fog.

Each instance has a place beyond the fog. Some instances are small and can be seen after a few steps, while others are large and players may never be able to leave the boundary and never see it.

In the void beyond the mist, without the protection of any items, one could be burned to ashes by an unknown object and ultimately reduced to ashes.

As for resisting with one's body, that's something I wouldn't even dare to think about.

Beyond the mist of a certain instance, large amounts of blood dripped down, and the air was filled with a thick smell of blood and burning.

"You brat! Only you could break through the mist with a mortal body like that. Come back with me now!"

At midnight, standing in the mist, leaning on his cane and gritting his teeth, he had just fed a lot of human flesh, which brought this stubborn donkey into human form. No matter what he said, he couldn't stop it from rushing into the mist every day.

What are the consequences of a mortal entering the mist? At midnight, looking at the red-haired man's burning body, it could no longer be called a "body".

The flesh was licked away inch by inch by the invisible fire, first blistering up, then bursting, blood and charred fat mixed together and flowed down, the bones crackling in the mist, repeatedly baked by the high temperature.

There was no fire outside the fog, but it was more like torture than being roasted by fire, mixed with some kind of electric current, tormenting one's spirit from the inside out, and causing muscles to atrophy.

The man didn't shout.

My throat was burned when it first rushed out, but it healed and I learned to close it tightly.

He just gritted his teeth, his jaw clenched until it turned white, but his eyes held an unfathomable turbulent sea, like a beast that had been repeatedly tortured but refused to die completely.

How many times has this happened already?