Carnivore (XII) Sunlight

The scene before his eyes was veiled in a faint, reddish haze, colors overturned into filthy clumps that overflowed against the dim backdrop.

Qi Si felt as if he had been split in two; one half of him was coaxing and whispering, urging him to abandon resistance, to sink into the abyss and obey his instincts.

The other half of him had ascended to the crown of his head like a soul leaving its body, freezing high in the heavens to look down upon his own flesh with a cold, mocking detachment, describing the objective scene to him.

'At this moment, you are trapped within a Nightmare illusion. The aroma of meat you smell is the stench of rot, and the delicacies you crave are the oozing pus of a corpse.'

That high-and-mighty version of himself spoke thus, his tone mysterious and pretentious, like a god delivering a decree.

The [Humanoid Evil Spirit] identity card hung high above his head, red and black phantoms intertwining as they poured into his spirit body.

In an instant, Qi Si locked eyes with a pair of scarlet pupils through layers of demons and ghosts, and his memories returned like a tidal wave.

In last night's dream, a voice had declared with solemn gravity: "You are the fruit born of the world's greatest malice, bearing the heaviest sins bestowed by fate..."

"For me, and for yourself, kill all the blasphemers. You shall continue to win, until you die upon the stage where the final movement plays..."

The voice dissipated in his ears, and the scarlet in the distance shattered like glass struck by a heavy blow, transforming into a torrential rain of blood.

Qi Si remembered now; he had been immune to all forms of hypnosis and hallucination since long ago, and he could always remain lucid in his dreams—provided he wished to.

He had once built palaces and pavilions in his dreams, and had even sketched out the likenesses of deceased acquaintances, but he knew clearly that they were all false, always able to dissect his own psychology from the sidelines with cold, mocking detachment...

For a very long time, he had not liked this.

[Identity card hidden effect "Lucid Dream" has been triggered; it cannot be activated again in this instance.]

[Note: Evil Spirits do not dream. You are not human; how can you use human methods to escape pain?]

The chaotic darkness deep within his sea of consciousness seemed to be cleaved open by a flash of blood-red light, and reason once again seized control.

The sense of terror was born only to dissipate, gone before he could even savor or contemplate it.

Qi Si hunched his back and let out a low laugh: "If I actually put that thing in my mouth, I'm afraid I'd be so disgusted I'd kill myself on the spot... By comparison, I still think being alive is better."

The pungent, fishy stench rushed toward him; this was the true scent of the slime covering the floor. Qi Si felt fortunate that he had regained his senses in time, and had not actually taken a bite of the tumor the village chief had become.

The aroma of meat had long since dissipated, leaving only the nauseating stench of pus. His consciousness gradually cleared under the multiple stimuli, and the chaotic images slowly settled.

The identity card in the upper right corner of his vision had faded significantly, its once-vibrant colors dimmed.

Qi Si leaned against the doorframe; a brief moment of exhaustion made it difficult for him to stand straight, forcing him to rely on the wooden structure to support his body.

The other players were in a much worse state. Yang Yundong, Zhao Feng, and Zhu Ling were sprawled in disarray. Fortunately, they still maintained a shred of consciousness; though drool brought on by gluttony hung from their lips, they had not actually consumed the slime.

The tattooed woman and Zhang Licai could not help but reach out to grab the slime on the ground, bringing it toward their mouths. Their hands pushed and pulled in a state of extreme agitation, clearly locked in a struggle with their own willpower.

Allen was already completely prone on the ground, greedily sticking out his tongue to lick the slime flowing across the floor. He swallowed the slime in large gulps, his throat bobbing as he gulped it down whole.

Qi Si watched as flesh-colored pus began to seep from Allen's skin, identical to the surface of the tumor inside the main house. His limbs began to deflate as if melting, gradually losing their original shape until they merged with the slime on the ground.

Soon, only his upper body and head remained prostrate on the floor, his mouth still mindlessly gulping down the substance.

Noticing Qi Si watching him, he raised his head, his gaze filled with utter confusion: "Why aren't you eating? Aren't you hungry?"

As he spoke, he began to flow slowly toward Qi Si.

"I'm not hungry. If you're hungry, just eat quietly by yourself." Qi Si took a step back and made an ill-timed joke, "Though given your cultural background, your parents probably never taught you that one should 'not speak while eating, nor while sleeping'."

It was unclear how much Allen understood, but he persisted in his persuasion: "Such good things, it's better to eat together..."

Qi Si pretended not to hear him and continued to scan his surroundings with his eyes: "Don't you notice that something is wrong?"

Allen's head let out a chortling laugh: "What could be wrong? It's clearly delicious..."

He buried his head once more to feast on the slime.

At the same time, seemingly aware that Qi Si remained unaffected, clusters of flesh-colored slime gathered and surged toward the main house, climbing up along Qi Si's heels.

The courtyard gate in the distance had closed at some point, and the gaps were blocked by semi-solid slime. The ground as far as the eye could see was covered in a layer of flesh-colored membrane, undulating flexibly to obstruct every conceivable path of retreat.

Qi Si maintained a state of near-indifferent calm, silently surveying his surroundings. Fragmented images and scenes flashed before his eyes like photographic silhouettes.

--The canopy blocking the sunlight, the main house with its windows pasted shut, the tumor curled up on the bed...

--The villagers only appeared at night...

The clues were arranged in an orderly fashion; the hint was already very clear.

Qi Si noticed that the main house had a massive window facing south, sealed airtight with paper, but with enough force applied to the center, it could be broken through quite easily.

And the south was where the sun rose.

The moment his reasoning completed its deduction, his actions reacted swiftly. Qi Si snatched the broadsword from the hands of the collapsed Yang Yundong and threw it toward the south-facing window behind the tumor.

He used every ounce of his strength. The broadsword turned into a gray shadow that pierced the window lattice, followed by a "pop" as the window was punched through, and then the sound of glass shattering.

Pale sunlight shone in from outside; though weak and feeble, it nonetheless represented a glimmer of light.

The originally gloomy and chilling main house was illuminated. The warmthless sunlight shone impartially upon every corner of the room—the dim, the clean, the chaotic, and the pure—all bathed in the soft, listless daylight.

A piercing scream rose high, its tail end fading at a speed perceptible to the human ear, finally turning into a powerless moan.

The tumor-like village chief went limp like a balloon drained of air, his flesh-colored surface rapidly becoming transparent. His half-melted face twisted hideously into various expressions, appearing both angry and terrified. His mouth, which had almost merged with his body, opened and closed, muttering something.

Qi Si leaned in to listen, only catching a short phrase: "The gods curse us..."

He wanted to hear more of the dying words, but the village chief's tumor had already completely melted into a pool of translucent fluid. It was crystal clear in the sunlight, while the shadowed areas took on the appearance of white gelatin, looking exactly like the bowl of God Meat that Granny Su had served the night before.

Qi Si seemed to have thought of some novel joke, the corners of his lips curling upward uncontrollably.

He stepped forward, pulled the stuck broadsword from the south-facing window, and casually slashed at the gel that the village chief had transformed into; as expected, golden liquid overflowed from the gash.

At this point, it was certain that the village chief had completely turned into the God Meat that the players needed—harmless, uncontaminated, and edible.

It was hard to say whether such an ending was good or bad, but it was certainly full of drama and dark humor.

With a smirk, Qi Si carried the broadsword back to the entrance of the main house, where he saw Yang Yundong still slumped on the ground.

The moment the sunlight shone into the courtyard, the mental confusion caused by the tumors and mucus came to an abrupt halt; the players' consciousness began to recover slowly, though it would take a while before they could fully regain their mobility.

In the vast courtyard, Qi Si was the only one capable of standing upright.

In other words, he now held the power of life and death over these players.

Realizing this, Qi Si lowered his eyes to look at the broadsword in his right hand, his left hand resting at his side, tapping rhythmically against his leg.

He began to ponder with a look of feigned seriousness.

As long as he killed everyone before him and then returned to Granny Su's residence to kill Zhou Yilin, he would undoubtedly complete the deal with the God-level NPC and simultaneously trigger the minimum death toll mechanism, clearing the instance directly.

However, this would be equivalent to abandoning the instance completion rate and the world-building.

After all, once he became the sole survivor, the instance would directly guide the player into a muddled NE ending, and many death points containing clues would never be triggered.

There were still four days left until the instance ended, and there were quite a few mechanisms that required human lives to verify; killing them all here would be a waste.

Moreover, as a veteran player on his third instance, he didn't know if they had any trump cards; if he forced them into a desperate struggle, the losses might outweigh the gains.

It took only a second to weigh every detail. Qi Si half-closed his eyes to mask the malice brewing beneath, then casually tossed the broadsword back beside Yang Yundong.

Under the sunlight, he swept away his previous gloom, his smile bright and clear: "Many thanks for the loan of the blade, Brother Yang. It was very useful."

Yang Yundong caught the broadsword and let out a heavy breath, his back already soaked in cold sweat.

He looked up into Qi Si's eyes, hesitated for a long time, but ultimately said nothing.