Perhaps because everyone had been motionless for so long, a sudden gust of sinister wind swept past the carved windows outside the hall, carrying what looked like ashes from joss paper. The dragon-and-phoenix candles on the Eight Immortals table suddenly crackled and burst into clusters of blue-violet flames.
With the gust came a chill from deep within the old mansion. It rolled in from outside, then seemed to have a will of its own, actively worming its way into people's bones and making everyone present shiver in unison.
"!!"
"All right!"
Seeing the change outside, Wu Yong, the bearded man from the Contamination Control Bureau, wiped at the nonexistent sweat on his forehead, then slapped the table to urge everyone to stop dawdling.
"Let's not waste any more time."
"Now... there are less than fifty minutes left. Hurry up!"
As he spoke, he looked around at everyone seated there, signaling with his eyes.
"..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
However, apart from a certain troublesome little girl, everyone just looked at one another, then gazed longingly at the dishes on the table. Nobody seemed willing to be the first to "order."
"Ahem—"
Seeing this, Wu Yong could only let out a sorrowful sigh. Then he stood up, intending to pick any two dishes.
However...
Looking at the dazzling array of dishes, the table laden with delicacies, the glistening fatty pork knuckle, the lion's head meatballs glowing with an eerie red light, and the fragrant amber-colored soup, he agonized for a long time, yet still couldn't decide what to choose.
He might not be afraid of dying, but he didn't seem eager to die just yet. So he couldn't help feeling at a loss, unsure where to start.
After all, nobody was a fool. There were seven people present and fourteen dishes,