Plaid Shirt was dead.
Right in front of Jiang Qian, a bullet had struck him squarely in the forehead.
Yet no gunshot had been heard at the scene.
An eerie atmosphere instantly fermented in the air.
The elegant noblewoman seated to Plaid Shirt's left immediately screamed and fled from her seat. She then covered her cheek and turned back, looking both surprised and flustered.
Even the muscular handsome man on his right stood and backed away, consciously keeping a wary distance from the square-faced fat man on his other side.
No one had torn off the mask yet because they still did not know who was an enemy and who was an ally.
In other words, the outcome was uncertain, and no one dared act rashly.
Plaid Shirt's death was a dividing line that tested everyone's identities.
Everyone's gazes gradually converged on Jiang Qian...
At the center of attention, Jiang Qian's mind was racing:
Plaid Shirt had been the first to introduce himself. Though his words had been meaningless, they revealed certain leanings: healthy in body and mind, full of positive energy. Was that a hint that he belonged to the righteous camp?
When the other man mentioned "health" and "specializing in curing unhappiness," Jiang Qian immediately thought of the "Pill" card he had failed to obtain.
At least among everyone's statements, he had heard nothing that sounded more like the "Pill" card than that.
So was that why Plaid Shirt had been the first to die?
"Glasses" corresponded to the "Detective," with the ability to inspect others' hidden cards;
"Pill" likely corresponded to a pharmacist or doctor-type ability, whether poison or antidote... Strange. If he was a pharmacist, couldn't he save himself?
Was this the legendary "cannot save yourself on the first night"?
Jiang Qian had no way of