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When Abby let out a soft “ah,” Wu Yiliu felt as if she had just started casting [Priest Roman Collar] not long ago— “Time’s up,” she said, turning her head to look at him, her expression a mix of worry and antic.i.p.ation.

He exhaled, straightened his upper body, and leaned back in his chair.

“How did it go?” Wu Yiliu tilted his head, looking at the two on the couch, smiling lightly.

If his experiences had taught him anything, it was this invaluable lesson: sometimes a person’s outward appearance is even more important than what they actually are.

Whenever Wu Yiliu acted as if he had everything under control, he found that others would gradually cede control to him— like now.

“We…we understand,” Cuining said hesitantly. “If it’s really as you say… then we indeed have no need to object.”

“We’ll let you implement this plan, meaning we’re on board, right? You won’t do anything else to us, will you?” Pence asked, still not entirely at ease.

Wu Yiliu nodded. “Of course.”

If these four players were to propose a plan, not only would he be distrustful, but honestly, he didn’t think they could come up with anything good enough to change his mind.

He had asked the players to come up with a plan to achieve this exact result: while they were discussing, hesitating, wracking their brains, and considering all angles, Wu Yiliu could slowly penetrate their thoughts with his ideas.

He occasionally dropped hints and guided the conversation— eventually, when they settled on a plan, it seemed that n.o.body realized that every step was actually Wu Yiliu’s intention.

“That’s settled, then.” Wu Yiliu clapped his hands as if a weight had been lifted, smiling. “It wasn’t easy, but we’re finally on the same side. I’m pleased.”

He looked at Abby— like him, her legs were still tied to the chair. Her hands lay calmly on her knees, pressing down on paper and pen; during their conversation, neither of them had unconsciously untied themselves, indicating no attempts at brainwas.h.i.+ng.

“You managed not to whisper, so you must be sincere.”

As he spoke, Wu Yiliu bent down to untie the ropes from his legs— the “untying” turned from a warning signal into a necessary step in his plan, making him think sardonically that it would be funny if the plan he thought he’d come up with was actually whispered to him by the players.

Of course, he knew that was impossible.

“When did we have a chance to whisper to you?” Pence snorted, almost unable to contain his resentment. “You’ve blocked every angle.”

His unhappiness was understandable.

Wu Yiliu stood, stamping his feet to get the blood flowing again, then leisurely walked over to the couch, observing them for a few seconds.

As people beyond saving, they were excessively lifelike. Their chests still heaved, eyelashes occasionally blinked; due to being strangled, veins bulged on their red foreheads, and their heavy breathing was clearly audible.

Looking down at these bodies, Wu Yiliu couldn’t help but recall Milan’s comment from years ago, “lacking human flavor.” Perhaps she was right.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Pence cried out. “You said you had a few months left, right?”

“Three months,” Wu Yiliu replied, looking at Pence and tilting his head. The mouth was Pence’s, but the speaker wasn’t; he continued to look at Pence as he answered, giving him one last shred of respect.

“That woman has four months left to teleport,” Pence said, speeding up, “and you have three. We players have about five to seven months left… How do I know you’re not lying? What if you all teleport away first?”

If the meat chickens are transported away first and there’s no target to attack, the pocket dimension will begin to settle the success or failure of this mission; this point has also become the part that the few players are most uneasy about, and they have repeatedly confirmed it with him.

“Similarly, I can’t be sure that your transport times are indeed between five and seven months. What if one of you is transported away immediately, and we end up three against three? The meat chickens would be at a disadvantage then,” Wu Yiliu said, shrugging. “But you can verify this with the person who brainwashed Abby and Christo. Before things reached this point, I told them that when posthumans are infected and mutate, they lose their evolved abilities and can no longer be transported. If you infect Cuining, she will stay in the pocket dimension; as long as she’s here and you don’t brainwash her, the pocket dimension will not end.”

Pence’s mouth hung open, speechless, his eyes still staring at the ceiling.

“If there are no problems, then, I will begin.” Wu Yiliu sighed, reaching out to untie the blankets around the two people’s necks.

He helped Cuining up, letting her lean against the back of the sofa, then wrapped his hands around and pulled off Pence’s pullover to dress Cuining in it. He then draped the blanket over her shoulders. Now, all four brainwas.h.i.+ng items were concentrated on her.

Without Cuining’s support, Pence had already slumped down the sofa, leaning his head on the cus.h.i.+on, exposing part of his neck—a huge Adam’s apple bulged, and a newly grown stubble under his chin.

Wu Yiliu bent down, his fingers gently landing on Pence’s throat.

With a slight effort, there was a “crack” sound, and Pence’s unsuspecting throat bone broke like a dry twig under his fingertips. Pence’s throat made a couple of gurgling sounds, his body involuntarily convulsing a few times, as Wu Yiliu’s fingers pressed deeper. Eventually, a line of blood oozed from the corner of his mouth, followed by his last breath. He moved no more.

Wu Yiliu straightened his back, unconsciously twisting his fingers.

Pence was already beyond saving, his death might even serve some purpose.

He had said that meat chickens generally don’t kill each other, but that’s under normal circ.u.mstances.

He checked Pence’s vital signs and said, “He’s completely dead. Although everyone should be clear about the situation, let me repeat the main point. Now in this pocket dimension, there are four players, three meat chickens.”

There was no sound in the room—other than the voices of the characters on the television behind him, the camping cabin was as quiet as if he were alone.

“That is to say, if you don’t carry out the teleport plan and have other thoughts halfway, wanting to move against us… then when the pocket dimension ends, one of you will definitely lose.”

Wu Yiliu’s idea was this: although he couldn’t see the players, they could perceive each other; he wanted to make the players watch and guard against each other.

Of course, if there were one fewer meat chicken, their vigilance would be even more stringent—but there was no way around that, he couldn’t kill Abby.

“None of you want to be the last one to lose, right?” Wu Yiliu said, raising his voice slightly. “However, there are always those who see an opportunity and want to act, thinking they will definitely win, disregarding others, thus ruining the entire plan…”

That “Abby” was obviously such a person.

“So, I’ve put all four brainwas.h.i.+ng items on Cuining,” Wu Yiliu said. “I’ll give you some hints next. If someone wants to secretly brainwash a ‘meat chicken’ and occupy a target, you don’t need to be in a hurry.”

When Wu Yiliu spoke to this point, his gaze swept across the room, and he saw a floating human chin next to Cuining, as if the person was leaning forward, engrossed in listening. He knew this was a warning and hint from the pocket dimension to the ‘meat chickens,’ and though he had seen it a few times before, he still found it somewhat disconcerting.

Pretending not to notice, he continued, “Because according to the brainwas.h.i.+ng methods of the pocket dimension, you can completely ‘reverse-brainwash’ – all you have to do is whisper the truth to us.”

“So… so that’s why you were asking how to brainwash earlier,” Cuining said, wrapped up tightly and sitting on the sofa, murmuring in amazement.

“Yes, just consider us as territories that must be contested,” Wu Yiliu said with a smile. “You all know that there must be someone among you who can’t help but be eager to make a move on us, trying to secure a ‘meat chicken’ for themselves. So, you’d better be on guard at all times to ensure that we haven’t been quietly brainwashed.”

“You two are safe, at least,” Cuining mumbled.

Wu Yiliu wanted to create this situation: If they weren’t brainwashed, the players could leave smoothly; if they were brainwashed, one player would be defeated.

The chin floating beside Cuining suddenly moved up and down a few times, seemingly speaking. After it disappeared, Cuining spoke up. “Christo wants to ask you, how can we keep an eye on your safety if we all leave the cabin?”

“It’s simple,” Wu Yiliu replied. “You four just need to stay together at all times. If someone’s whereabouts are unknown, no matter how long, hurry back to the cabin to observe our situation, ensuring we haven’t been brainwashed.”

That’s right – this was the agreement reached between the players and the ‘meat chickens’: after killing one ‘meat chicken,’ the players would leave the camping cabin and wait for teleportation. For safety, the television would keep playing a looped video; Wu Yiliu and Abby could wear earplugs and ignore the TV, but any player entering the cabin would risk infection.

The plan seemed to cover every aspect and appeared highly feasible – it didn’t seem to leave any room for either side to sabotage the plan, and, in theory, everyone should be able to get out smoothly.

Lin Sanjiu couldn’t explain why a chill crept into her heart.