Compared to just ten minutes ago, everything here had changed drastically.
The entire Xingwang Hotel was now enveloped in a chilling ghostly atmosphere. A faint, almost imperceptible stench of decay lingered in the air, refusing to dissipate, surrounding everyone.
At the end of the hallway was a dark red door. Under the glow of the lights, the heavy door presented a color that resembled coagulated blood, half-frozen and unsettling.
Outside the door, everyone had already gathered.
Each person was dressed in identical sharp uniforms, their faces hidden behind pale, featureless masks. The only difference was the color and number on their name tags.
The atmosphere was heavy and oppressive, making it nearly impossible to breathe.
Everyone knew this was the final and most important part of the Xingwang Hotel's entire scenario.
The hotel manager stepped forward and placed a hand on the door.
With a creaking sound, the heavy door slowly creaked open in front of everyone.
Inside was the familiar, spacious hall with a long table large enough to seat fifteen people.
On the snow-white tablecloth were a series of dinner plates.
These were simple, brass plates, looking a bit aged and covered in stains.
Next to the plates was a small candelabra with unlit candles.
Near the door stood a small reception desk with a lit lantern resting on the surface.
This was the same lantern the hotel manager had carried with him when leading them to the staff rest area.
However, this time, it emitted a faint red glow, casting a dim light over the otherwise brightly lit hall.
Everything about it seemed eerie.
The hotel manager turned to face the stream of hosts.
"The banquet will begin in ten minutes. Please bring your utmost enthusiasm to offer perfect service to the guests. If you do well, you will be generously rewarded with tips."
Under the faint red light, the hotel manager's face, pale and blurred, smiled ominously, resembling the corpse of someone long dead, yet his mechanical voice continued:
"First, do not let the guests wait."
"Light the candles on the table before serving the food."
"Please be sure to serve the food before the candles burn out."
The hotel manager did not mention what would happen if these rules were violated, but everyone understood they did not want to find out firsthand.
"The banquet will last one hour. Please make the most of this time and serve the distinguished guests as best as you can."
After finishing these instructions, the hotel manager stepped forward, standing behind the reception desk.
Under the watchful gaze of his black hollow eyes, the hosts gathered and stepped forward to stand behind him.
As Wen Jianyan was about to move forward, his wrist was suddenly grabbed.
"?"
He paused, turning his head slightly to look to the side.
Since there was no mirror, he couldn't see Wu Zhu's figure, only the empty space beside him. But the sensation on his wrist was unmistakable, undeniably real.
The cold hand firmly grasped his, fingers tightening, not allowing him to pull away.
"…What?"
Wen Jianyan lowered his voice to ask.
The other hosts were filing into the room, and he couldn't stand still for too long, or it would attract unnecessary attention.
A silence surrounded him.
Suddenly, Wen Jianyan felt his palm open, and then cold fingertips began to trace something across his palm.
A horizontal line, a flick…
Wen Jianyan froze for a moment, then suddenly realized that Wu Zhu was writing something.
[Don't]
…Don't??
No what?
Before Wen Jianyan could figure it out, the force on his wrist loosened.
The cold fingers disappeared, and his skin was exposed to the air, sending a chill through him.
Wen Jianyan stood still, dazed for a moment.
The other hosts were almost finished walking in.
Wen Jianyan suddenly snapped back to reality, hurriedly following behind them.
Inside the empty banquet hall, the hotel manager, with his pale face and an eerie smile, stood at the reception desk, silently waiting.
The hosts stood behind him, each holding their own thoughts.
Wen Jianyan lowered his eyes, instinctively touching his wrist.
He had expected that Wu Zue would not be able to enter the final banquet hall, given that the instance was still under the control of the nightmare.
In this "prison", the "warden" still existed.
Given this premise, it made sense that Wu Zhu, as a prisoner, could not enter.
However, what Wen Jianyan hadn't anticipated was that before leaving, Wu Zhu would leave him such a "message".
Wen Jianyan lowered his head, gazing at his open hand.
"…"
The warmth from the other person's fingertips seemed to linger in his palm, even though the initial coldness had faded. Now, only an undeniable burning sensation remained, impossible to ignore.
"Don't?"
What was meant by "don't"?
Don't go in? Don't leave? Or was it some other piece of information?
As Wen Jianyan pondered, the air around him suddenly began to chill. A cold, eerie wind blew from the end of the hallway, carrying with it a sinister, decaying smell that made him instinctively shiver.
Wen Jianyan froze for a moment, quickly lifting his head to look toward the open door.
"Zzz… Zzzzz…"
Under some unknown force, the light bulb at the end of the hallway began to flicker, its brightness ebbing and flowing.
Then came the sound of footsteps from the far end of the hallway.
Tap, tap, tap.
A vague figure appeared in the dim red light, walking step by step toward this side.
In an instant, everyone's heart rate sped up, and they instinctively held their breath.
It began.
Perhaps it was just a sensation, but the once dim light now seemed blood-red, reminiscent of the elevator ride earlier.
In the sharp red-lit hallway, the number of stiff figures began to increase.
One, two, three…
The dense sound of footsteps echoed through the corridor as the "guests," with their stiff movements, made their way toward the door.
The red light illuminated their featureless, pale faces, and even from a distance, it was enough to send a shiver down anyone's spine.
The rotting stench wafted from the corridor, and the temperature in the air seemed to plummet, so cold that it made them shudder.
Everyone heightened their vigilance, nervously standing at attention.
Soon, the first "guest" entered the banquet hall.
Wen Jianyan held his breath, watching its pale face, stiff as if made of wax. It walked toward the hall, seemingly drawn by some invisible force, and sat down at one of the tables.
Next came the second, third, and fourth.
When five guests had seated themselves, the hallway finally emptied.
The lights in the hallway stopped flickering, and the blood-red hue gradually faded, returning to the normal dim red.
The five guests sat motionless at the table.
"Let's begin."
The hotel manager turned to the "official staff" waiting at the side, saying, "The dishes are over there."
It pointed toward a certain direction in the hall.
There, a very noticeable window stood, and inside, many plates were arranged side by side. Each plate held something quietly placed within.
Blond took a step forward, standing on tiptoe to look in that direction.
He froze.
There were no horrific items challenging the limits of human physiology on the plates—no eyeballs, no hearts, no skulls, nothing like that.
Instead, each plate contained a name tag.
Some had black numbers, some red.
Cold and neatly arranged at the center of each plate, they seemed lifeless.
But everyone knew, behind each plate, there was a living person's life.
Blond stepped back and whispered to his teammates:
"It's… It's the name tags."
"By the way, the generous tips you earn from the guests can be taken with you."
The hotel manager seemed to recall something, turning to look at the anchors behind him and calmly saying:
"Of course, you can also choose to take them now and use them."
The anchors from the black team were startled.
But the red team anchors didn't seem surprised at all. They exchanged a quick glance, as if they had anticipated this situation.
The hotel manager continued:
"You can use twenty yuan of tips to exchange for an additional name tag at the front desk. Of course, if your name tag is lost and you can't act, you can ask your partner to go to the front desk to buy a name tag for you.
Of course, each person only gets one chance."
At this, even the red team anchors, who had already been aware of some of the information, couldn't help but feel a slight shock.
Having survived in the Xingwang Hotel scenario for so long, they were now fully aware of the importance of the name tag.
It was intimately tied to the wearer's life. If the name tag was taken, the anchor would fall into a state of false death. If the anchor died, the name tag would disappear as well.
Even the "food" served to the guests at the final banquet was made of human name tags.
In other words, in this scenario, the name tag was life.
Therefore, as long as there were enough "tips," even if someone died during the banquet, they could buy a second life.
Wen Jianyan narrowed his eyes, feeling a slight sense of relief.
Fortunately.
It seemed everything was proceeding as he had expected.
Among everyone, he was the only one who had participated in the Changsheng Tower scenario and realized the connection between the two scenarios.
In Changsheng Building, all the earned ghost money had a way to be spent. However, in the [Xingwang Hotel] instance, there was no such mechanism.
To be precise, there was a system for them in the original Xingwang Hotel, but not in the mirror copy.
Since all the instance mechanisms were blocked by the mirror, no matter whether they entered a clothing store or a mask store, they didn't have to pay anything.
If that's the case, then in this entire instance, ghost money only served one purpose: to "measure the outcome" between both sides.
This item couldn't form any proper "mechanism" in the instance, and a closed loop couldn't be achieved.
After dealing with the nightmare for so long, Wen Jianyan knew that the likelihood of this situation occurring was very low.
Let alone now, they had left the nightmare-created mirror instance and entered a real instance, restructured around the real world.
So, in the upcoming "banquet", these ghost money would definitely have more uses, not just as a measure of victory or defeat.
Could it be like in Changsheng Building, where they could buy props?
No, the likelihood is low.
Wen Jianyan dismissed this possibility in his mind.
The Xingwang Hotel instance was nearing its end, and most of the framework had already been figured out by them. Under these circumstances, introducing an item that had not appeared earlier would undoubtedly disrupt the integrity of the instance and imbalance the strength of both teams.
Therefore, the most likely use of ghost money would be to buy lives.
Or rather… this was its most original, most fundamental use.
Moreover, with the Nightmare's temperament, the price would definitely not be low.
Because only by doing this could it stir the pot, intensify the conflicts…
No one would be spared.
It was important to note that they had worked for two whole days, and the amount of ghost money each team had earned was only in the tens. Even if more ghost money were earned during the banquet, if they were consumed in large amounts, neither side would be able to hold up.
After all, their goal was not just to survive, but to win.
If too many people were lost, forcing them to consume ghost money, it would give the trailing side an opportunity to catch up.
More importantly, once there were more ways to consume ghost money… when the final competition reached its peak, in order to win and to survive, the anchors might even voluntarily reduce the number of their official staff.
This was because the number of anchors who had already become bait was limited, and once they needed more tips to support more "guests," the first target would definitely be their own people.
All the anchors present were experienced professionals, so naturally, they all thought of this.
The atmosphere gradually became dangerous, and the entire banquet turned into something ambiguous.
Wen Jianyan took a deep breath, lowering his eyes and gently rubbing the side of his finger joints.
However… this was actually good news for him.
At the long table not far away, five "guests" sat still. Their bodies were stiff, exuding a cold, eerie aura, seemingly waiting for something.
"Captain, we…"
One member of the Black Team leaned close to the gentleman's ear and whispered.
The gentleman didn't respond.
His eyes, hidden beneath the mask, subtly moved, scanning everyone in front of him.
After everyone donned their uniforms and wore the pale masks, everyone in the room looked almost identical, making it difficult to differentiate between people, let alone identify a specific individual.
What was worse was that the masks worn by everyone had certain supernatural effects. Not only did they interfere with the judgment of ghosts, but they also interfered with the use of system items.
This meant they couldn't use any items to locate the opposing team's captain.
The gentleman looked toward the red team's side, his gaze landing on a red team anchor wearing the [Official Employee 001] name tag.
Clearly, only the opposing team's captain had the strength to wear this name tag, but…
The gentleman's gaze shifted downward, landing on the chest of the person wearing the mask.
Whether it was height, bone structure, or posture, it was unmistakably female.
This was almost completely opposite to Pinocchio himself.
It was obvious that the other side had done this intentionally.
Pinocchio might have used an appearance-changing technique, or perhaps simply given his name tag to someone else in his team to wear…
A smokescreen?
Was it a misdirection? Or something else?
The gentleman couldn't be sure and didn't dare make a rash move.
After all, he had already suffered many setbacks before, so when he saw the red team female anchor blatantly wearing the 001 name tag, he found himself in a difficult position.
This feeling of having his brain infiltrated was truly awful.
"Let's hold off for now." The gentleman frowned, retracting his gaze and whispering his response.
The banquet had just begun. They hadn't fully grasped the internal rules of the banquet yet, so there was no need to engage with the red team at this moment.
The people around him nodded and fell silent.
While they were contemplating, the anchors had already moved.
Both the black and red team anchors exchanged a few words and then selected several members to leave their teams and walk toward the tables where the plates were placed.
The entire process appeared simple, but no one dared to relax their vigilance.
The red team had selected Chen Mo, along with two other members from each of their teams.
Chen Mo was experienced, calm, and meticulous. Before joining Wen Jianyan's team, he had been a team leader and was capable of handling most situations on his own.
The other two red teams had made similar choices, sending out their most experienced, well-rounded teammates who had strong survival abilities.
The masked individuals approached the window, each picking up a plate, then turned and carefully walked toward the dining table.
The five "guests" still sat motionless at the table, their old, tarnished copper plates in front of them.
A cold, eerie aura enveloped the entire hall.
Chen Mo, holding his plate, walked toward the table step by step.
The empty plate only held a name tag with a number written on it, making the scene seem particularly absurd.
As the official staff approached, the temperature in the air began to plummet rapidly. Even the other anchors still at the front desk could feel the unnatural chill.
"Zzz… Zzzzz…"
The lights in the hall flickered erratically, disturbed by some unknown force.
What had been relatively bright light slowly dimmed, right before everyone's eyes.
As the anchors holding the trays approached the vicinity of the table, the entire hall was enveloped in a thick layer of darkness. Visibility was reduced to within two meters, with only the lantern at the front desk still barely glowing, like a pair of wide, red eyes staring out.
In the distance, the outline of the dining table could be faintly seen, but no one could tell exactly what was happening ahead.
Blond lowered his voice and said, "…I can't see clearly either."
In the impenetrable darkness, everyone held their breath, waiting quietly. Soon, with a soft "crack" sound, a red candle flame lit up, slightly dispersing the darkness before their eyes.
Everyone was startled and hurriedly looked toward the direction where the candlelight appeared.
One after another, red candles began to light up.
The blood-red dim light illuminated the guests' pale, eerie faces. From a distance, it looked like a terrifying hellish scene.
In the dense darkness and the blurred light and shadows, they could only vaguely see the anchors' movements as they carried the trays, but they couldn't observe anything more clearly.
The air grew heavier with the stench of decay, as if some animal had died in the center of the room, making everyone feel like they might vomit.
In the distance, everyone waited, hearts pounding.
Time passed slowly, each second feeling like an eternity.
Finally, the red candles began to extinguish, one by one, and the power disrupting the lights started to fade.
The darkness in the hall slowly began to lift.
The rancid smell also gradually faded.
Had it ended?
The same thought crossed everyone's mind.
Just as if to confirm their guess, several figures quickly ran toward them.
They were wearing waitstaff uniforms, their faces covered by masks that concealed their features. Beneath the masks, their breathing was frantic and uneven.
It was the anchors, no doubt.
"We're done."
Chen Mo said, breathing heavily.
"What happened?" Blond lowered his voice, asking nervously.
The first person's mission was to personally understand the risks that might occur during the banquet, so the ones who returned alive had to tell their teammates every detail of what had just happened.
"We carried the trays toward the table, and the further we went, the darker it got."
Chen Mo steadied his breath before beginning to speak.
Even now, with everything over, recalling it still made him feel a chill down his spine.
As the light was taken away, the cold, stiff figures of the guests ahead became increasingly clear. Their pale faces, devoid of discernible features, stared unblinkingly ahead, sending a deep sense of dread into one's heart.
"There were matches to light candles on the table," Chen Mo said, "but their purpose wasn't to light the candles. It was to take my blood."
"What?"
The others were shocked.
"In the moment I struck the match, something invisible cut my fingertip," Chen Mo said as he extended his hand to show them the cut on his index finger.
The wound was still fresh, as if it had just appeared, but the surrounding skin was pale, with not a drop of blood coming out.
"And during the burning of the candle, I had the sensation that my blood was still being lost."
Chen Mo's face, hidden beneath the mask, turned pale. As if trying to overcome some psychological trauma, he said with great difficulty, "And when I started bleeding, the 'guest' noticed me."
He still clearly remembered every moment that had just happened.
The blood was consumed from the wound, and the once-still candlestick on the table burst into a cluster of scarlet flames. The eerie red light enveloped him, finally dispersing the thick, sticky darkness around him.
Chen Mo had just sighed in relief, ready to proceed with the next part of the task, when suddenly, he felt a cold sensation on his back.
The feeling of being "watched" overwhelmed him, sending a chill down his spine.
Instinctively, he turned his head, and at that exact moment, he locked eyes with a pair of cold, black, emotionless eyes.
It was a guest.
Listening to Chen Mo's recount, Wen Jianyan fell into deep thought.
As he had previously suspected, the essence of the banquet was similar to the fourth floor of the Prosperity Building.
Both the red light that attracted ghosts and the offerings made to the ghosts followed a very similar mechanism.
Before lighting the candle and serving the guests, the anchors wore masks that concealed their breath, confusing the evil spirits into not recognizing them as humans. However, when they used their blood to light the candle, they provided an opportunity for the ghosts to feed, while simultaneously revealing their presence.
If they didn't serve the meal representing the human soul during this time, the serving staff would be treated as food and attacked by the evil spirits.
This was why the hotel manager had said that they needed to light the candle on the table before serving the guests and that the food had to be delivered before the candle burned out.
If the first condition wasn't completed, the eating rules wouldn't be triggered.
If the second was missed, the staff would instead become the meal.
Therefore, the real danger lay in the short span of time between lighting the candle and serving the guests.
It seemed simple, but in reality, it was fraught with danger.
It was important to remember that before this, the confrontation with the evil spirits had been separated by a nightmare-induced illusion. Now, however, there were no such barriers between them and the evil spirits.
In other words, they had to face a hungry, emotionless evil spirit up close in this brief moment… While the time wasn't long, it was more than enough for the anchors to find themselves in a perilous situation.
They had just sent three people, but only two had returned.
This meant that the one who hadn't returned was likely already dead.
"…Anyway, that's roughly what happened," Chen Mo succinctly summarized his heart-pounding experience in just a few brief sentences.
Although his description was concise, from his unstable tone and quick breathing, it was clear that he hadn't handled the situation lightly.
The level of danger during this process was something even a veteran anchor like him considered to be a close call.
Wen Jianyan glanced at the account.
Chen Mo had earned them a small tip of five yuan for this round.
He raised his eyes and casually glanced at the black team.
They were also quietly discussing something among themselves.
It seemed they had more or less figured out the rules for serving the guests at the banquet, and their actions would likely be less cautious than before.
Wait a minute.
Wen Jianyan suddenly seemed to realize something.
He furrowed his brows and scanned the other team again.
Like them, the black team had also sent three people, but based on his earlier observation, it seemed only two had returned.
This meant that, in total, they had sent six anchors, but only four had returned.
However, there were five guests!
At this moment, Wen Jianyan's pupils shrank. He suddenly turned his head and looked in the direction of the dining table.
The darkness was still gradually dissipating.
Empty, with the long table covered in white cloth, the four cold, rigid guest figures had already disappeared. However, at the end of the table, one figure remained.
It sat upright at the table, the candle beside it already extinguished, a bright, blood-red stain remaining.
The plate in front of it was drenched in blood, and two pale human faces were quietly placed there.
It was as though these faces had just been torn off a human, the edges mangled with blood and flesh, uneven, with thick, sticky blood dripping down.
The faces seemed to have undergone a terrifying experience in life, their hollow eyelids and mouths wide open in terror, their expressions twisted. Death had frozen that fear, and the lingering bitterness and resentment almost seemed ready to burst from the flesh and break free.
The darkness continued to fade.
The figure sitting at the table became clearer.
"…!"
The moment Wen Jianyan saw the shape of the guest, his pupils contracted, and he almost forgot how to breathe.
It was a woman.
She wore a white dress, her features blurry, and her eyes hollow. Even from a distance, just looking at her was enough to send a chill down one's spine.
It was her!!
The owner of the notebook, and the woman who had been controlling their movements in the mirrored world earlier.
As Wen Jianyan was still in shock, Chen Mo's tense voice rang out, "Damn it, look outside the hall."
Wen Jianyan controlled the storm of emotions rising in his chest, forced himself to look away from the table, and turned to follow Chen Mo's direction.
He didn't know when it had started, but the lights outside the hall began to flicker intensely once again.
This time, the flickering frequency was even more intense than before.
In the dim, red-tinged light, several figures gradually emerged. Faces as pale as masks moved under the light, drawing closer toward them.
The dark, stiff, upright shadows almost blended into the darkness.
It was the second wave of "guests."
One, two, three…
Wen Jianyan silently counted in his mind.
This time, there were seven in total.
More than the previous group.
Wen Jianyan's heart skipped a beat.
In an instant, he recalled the size of the long table.
"!"
It was as though he suddenly realized something, and he couldn't help but feel horrified.
These "guests" attending the banquet didn't come all at once, but in waves. A single table could accommodate fifteen people, which meant they might soon need to serve fifteen "guests" at once!
Once the blood-burning process began, the mask's disguise would fail.
Even if the anchors promptly served the ghosts they were responsible for, sending them away, if there were ghosts in the two adjacent seats and the anchors failed to serve them…
Then the anchor would face not just one ghost in such a short distance, but two, three…
Or even more!
A strong sense of crisis surged through Wen Jianyan, making his breathing quicker.
At this moment, he finally realized why the nightmare had been so merciful, offering them a chance to buy their lives with tips.
Apart from guiding more conflicts between the anchors, making the final battle between the two teams even more uncertain, there was another, more important reason.
That was, the difficulty of this banquet was so high that, without this system in place, once the number of anchors reached a certain critical point…
No one would survive.
Wen Jianyan clenched his teeth and said softly, "This time, Yun Bilan, Zhong Shan, Xi Zi, and Mu Bai go."
Yun Bilan's ability was well-known, and Xi Zi and Mu Bai were the captains of two other red team squads, so their strength was unquestionable. As for Zhong Shan, though a bit slippery, he was a master at survival.
"Remember every key point that Chen Mo mentioned. Prioritize guests near your teammates, so after lighting the candle, you can help each other. Then, choose guests with empty seats around them to avoid being dragged down by another anchor's mistake, causing you to face two or even three ghosts."
"Remember, after lighting the candle, activate your items immediately. Try not to use your talents; we still have a tough battle ahead, and it's not worth wasting your talents in this situation."
"Finally", Wen Jianyan took a deep breath and turned his gaze toward the table.
On the long table, only one guest remained motionless in their seat. The plate in front of them held two torn-off faces, cold and stiff.
"Stay away from that guest; no matter what, do not serve it."
This guest was no ordinary entity.
It wasn't just because it had killed two anchors. More importantly, from what Wen Jianyan had learned so far, it was the source of all this strange occurrence. It was the cause of the small town turning into a dead city and the terrifying ritual beginning.
Though it used the same body, Wen Jianyan didn't believe it was the same teacher who had given him the box in the well. That teacher had merely been a container and tool for it; it had been nurtured in human flesh, but was not truly human. It was a more sinister and terrifying existence.
Even though it had become a "guest," its terror was on a whole new level.
So, out of caution, Wen Jianyan did not want his teammates to face it directly, but preferred to wait and observe for a while longer.
Soon, as he spoke, the second wave of guests had already entered the hall, walking with slow and eerie steps to sit at the long dining table.
"Go ahead, be careful," Wen Jianyan's voice was low, almost a whisper.
The others nodded and stepped forward, heading towards the table.
Similarly, the Black Team sent out their second wave, four people as well.
The process was almost identical to last time. As the anchors picked up their trays and began walking toward the table, the lights in the hall started to flicker violently. A thick, almost impenetrable darkness descended, shrouding the entire hall.
The anchors left at the front desk could no longer see what was happening in the distance; they could only smell the increasing stench of decay. This time, the rotten smell was even worse, so pungent that it made them gag even from afar.
The direction of the table, faint red candlelights began to flicker on one by one.
One, two, three…
Eight candles lit up.
Wen Jianyan felt his heart start pounding fiercely, thudding against his ribs.
Soon, the faint red flames flickered out one by one, and the darkness enveloping the hall began to dissipate, with light slowly returning.
In the dark, four figures ran toward this direction.
All of them had survived.
Wen Jianyan let out a sigh of relief.
He flexed his fingers, realizing that his palms had become sweaty without him noticing.
But just as they were about to approach, one of them suddenly stumbled, falling to his knees with a loud thud, startling everyone.
It was as though the restraint had been released. His mask fell off with a clatter.
Underneath the mask was a bloody, mangled face.
It was Zhong Shan.
He was dead.
Wen Jianyan felt a chill run down his spine, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up.
He slowly raised his head, looking toward the dining table.
The darkness had almost completely dissipated. This time, five of the eight figures at the table had disappeared, leaving only three.
It was obvious that Zhong Shan's face was now in one of their plates.
The Black Team had also lost two people.
Wen Jianyan narrowed his eyes beneath his mask.
If this had been an initial encounter with death, the rate of attrition would have been understandable. But given that they had already figured out the rules of the banquet and had been extra cautious, yet still lost so many people, something didn't sit right.
Moreover, the Black Team, like them, had the same information, so they too would have been cautious and wouldn't have sent any average members.
Yet despite that, they still lost people.
If that's the case…
It was clear that the guests here were of varying levels of danger. Ordinary ones could easily be sent away, but the more terrifying ones, like the woman in white, would make it incredibly hard to survive in a confrontation with them.
Wen Jianyan turned his head again and looked toward the table.
The darkness had almost entirely dissipated.
This time, three guests remained at the table.
Each of their plates contained bloody, face-like skin, emitting a foul, rotting odor.
"Here they come again."
Blond murmured.
As though not giving them any chance to rest, the lights outside the hallway flickered again, and in the crimson, cold corridor, several figures began to appear.
"This time…" Blond's voice faltered slightly, trembling as he said, "There are ten."
Ten guests.
And this time, three guests remained at the table, meaning only two seats would be vacant.
Wen Jianyan couldn't help but shiver.
He knew that this was one step closer to the terrifying scene he had predicted earlier.
Suddenly, from behind him, a sharp "creak" rang out, like the sound of a chair leg scraping against the floor.
"?!"
Everyone was startled, quickly turning to look in the direction of the sound.
Under the horrified gaze of all, a guest slowly stood up. The chair behind them was pushed backward, making a sharp noise against the floor, causing everyone's heart to skip a beat.
It was the woman in white with the blurred face.
She stood up.
In front of her, a bloodstained brass plate held three faces.
…
Staring at her face with no distinct features, a cold sweat broke out on everyone's back.
Wen Jianyan felt it too.
But after standing up, she didn't move further.
She simply stood motionless at her seat, like a corpse long dead, quietly waiting for something.
No one dared to take this strange behavior lightly.
"…"
Suddenly, Wen Jianyan seemed to realize something and paused for a moment.
Before the banquet began, in addition to reminding them to light the candles before serving and to finish serving before the candles went out, the hotel manager had given them another reminder.
To be exact, this was actually the first rule he had told them.
[Do not keep the guests waiting.]
Staring at the white-clad woman standing silently in front of her seat, Wen Jianyan felt a cold sweat run down his spine.
What would happen if they kept her waiting?
"This time, I'll go."
Wen Jianyan said quietly.
He had to send this guest away during this serving session. If not, they might encounter a terrifying scene that they didn't want to face.
On the Black Team's side.
"Captain, what do you think?" The team members looked uncertainly at the white-clad woman standing in the distance, lowering their voices to ask Anis and the gentleman.
More footsteps of guests were approaching in the corridor behind.
No matter what, these ten new guests were about to enter the hall.
The gentleman glanced subtly at the Red Team's area, then spoke lightly: "I think, this time, Pinocchio won't be able to stay seated."
He remained his usual elegant self, saying casually:
"Even if he doesn't act himself, he'll make the team members closer and more capable act—this is a good opportunity."
"Naturally."
Anis moved his lips and gave a sinister smile beneath his mask. He stretched his shoulders and said:
"Let's go. This time, we'll act together."