Chapter Nineteen: The Killing Game (Part Seven)

Li Xin glanced fearfully at the slender-necked bottle still sitting on the table. She hesitated, but under Luo Hanya’s and Liu Shanshan’s persistent questioning, she finally spoke.

“Nitroglycerin—a highly dangerous chemical. It’s extremely volatile; exposure to strong light, high temperatures, or even vibrations can make it explode. That’s why it must be stored in a dry, cool place. This is why I wouldn’t let you turn on your flashlights,” she explained with a touch of professional detachment. Afterward, she seemed to be drawn into a painful memory. Her voice trembled as she went on, “It was because I failed to properly manage nitroglycerin that the old man caught me out. That’s why I had no choice but to come here.”

“What?” Luo Hanya was clearly shocked, while Liu Shanshan seemed to grasp the situation, covering her mouth with both hands, her face filled with disbelief.

At this point, Li Xin seemed unable to contain her emotions any longer. Her voice was saturated with misery. “Do you realize? A single drop of nitroglycerin can blow a hole in the ground. But that was three full liters! Because of my carelessness, an entire chemical warehouse exploded. Countless lives were lost in that blast, and afterwards, I ran away out of fear. I’m a criminal!” As she spoke, Li Xin broke down in tears, burying her face in her hands, her expression twisted with pain.

“Why didn’t you turn yourself in?” Luo Hanya asked, unable to understand.

“No…I can’t go to prison. My daughter already lost her father because of my negligence. She can’t lose her mother too.” Panic flickered across Li Xin’s face, but then it was quickly replaced by a fierce maternal radiance.

Luo Hanya sighed, gazing at this complicated woman before him. He could not truly share her pain, but he understood at least a little of the suffering she bore. For a catastrophe of such magnitude, she should have spent the rest of her life quietly atoning for her sins. Yet she was also a mother, and the light of maternal love bound her, leaving her torn, forced to live each moment in the torment of her conscience.

But then Luo Hanya couldn’t help but wonder: did she truly deserve compassion? Perhaps the more fitting sentiment was “pity for her misfortune, anger at her failure to act.” Though she lived in ceaseless pain, all her misery was of her own making—a punishment she brought upon herself, not to be blamed on others.

He shuddered at the thought. After all, nearly every criminal in the world has loved ones. If they all refused to serve their sentences for various reasons, perhaps only those truly repentant would refrain from harming society. But then, how could one ever distinguish them?

Luo Hanya shook his head, brushing away these tangled thoughts and forcing his attention back to the matter at hand.

He looked at the two women before him, both visibly shaken, and felt a headache coming on for no particular reason. It took all his effort to restore them to some semblance of normalcy; one remained lost in a daze, while the other seemed utterly soulless—neither was in any state to be of help.

They conducted another thorough search, but this time, no one dared touch the mysterious chemical reagents scattered about. As expected, they found nothing. The outcome, though anticipated, was still unsettling.

Luo Hanya exhaled a heavy breath, massaging his aching temples. He narrowed his eyes and glanced at Wang Hui. “It seems there’s truly no way to save her. But for those who have committed unforgivable sins, perhaps death itself is a form of release.” He shot another glance at Li Xin, whose suffering seemed worse than death, and pondered in silence.

Time is pitiless. In the blink of an eye, it was 5:50 p.m.—only ten minutes remained until the final vote. Everyone gathered in the main hall. Apart from Luo Hanya and Tan Yue’s groups, all others had found nothing. But what did it matter if anyone had? The impasse could not be broken so easily, and their discoveries offered little more than fleeting hope.

They filed into the conference room. The sight that greeted Luo Hanya and Tan Yue filled them with fury: the voting machine displayed portraits of all present. Apart from Xu Ping, whose image was now dimmed in death, Wang Hui’s portrait bore five votes beneath it.

Somehow, the others had already cast all their votes for Wang Hui. Luo Hanya and Tan Yue exchanged a glance, shrugged helplessly, and with tacit understanding, each clicked on their own portrait, leaving their vote for themselves.

Wang Hui, witnessing the scene, let out a mad, unrestrained laugh—sharp, poignant, tears streaming down her face. The hope for life abandoned, she was utterly fearless in the face of death.

Save for Luo Hanya, Tan Yue, and Bloodhand, the others bowed their heads, unable to look upon Wang Hui’s face, twisted by hysterical laughter, nor at the crystalline tears that fell from her eyes.

The proud girl, the confident girl, the kind-hearted girl—all were gone. Standing before them was only an angel about to ascend to heaven, though she seemed more a demon from hell.

At last, Wang Hui grew calm. She pressed her name gently on the voting machine and smiled serenely, her beauty restored in full. In that moment, even the loveliest flower paled beside her—this was a flower of fatality, blossoming radiantly at the moment of death.

“Farewell, everyone. It’s been a pleasure to meet you all at the last moment of my life. What a strange gift from God this is!” She lifted her head high, radiant and dignified—a blazing sun at the zenith of its glory.

Beep, beep, beep… The death knell sounded, the hymn of paradise. As the last rays faded and the angels bore away the purest soul, all that remained was a pitiful mortal shell—destined now to rot in blood and descend into endless oblivion.

Bang! A deep, final sound. The beautiful flower shattered into a shower of crimson petals, displaying her ultimate beauty—a beauty both cruel and bloody.

No one spoke. It was as if they were praying for this lovely soul, granting her one last moment of peace. Soon Bloodhand, a playful smile on his lips, surveyed the group, humming a tune as he left. He seemed in high spirits, utterly unfazed by the death that had just occurred before him, unconcerned, too, by his own impending fate.

The others, whether calm or panicked, quietly left the blood-soaked room, returning one by one to the dining hall for supper. As Tan Yue passed Luo Hanya, he slipped him a note and walked away as if nothing had happened. Luo Hanya said nothing, simply leaving the hall.

Dinner was lavish, but few could eat. Only Bloodhand devoured his meal with gusto, his face relaxed, while Little Bai, carefree as ever, feasted merrily. The rest picked at their food, unable to swallow much at all.

Luo Hanya was clearly in no mood to eat. He picked up a piece of pastry and slipped out of the stifling hall. On his way out, he glanced at the decorative painting—it was, with bitter irony, The Last Supper. He looked once more at the two brothers gorging themselves, smiled silently, and left.

By the end of the first day, two were out:

Wang Hui, identity: Assassin.
Xu Ping, identity: Civilian.