The Hand of Confession – Chapter 147

Volume 5: Days of Applying Makeup to Corpses

Lying

You lied.

On the black and white computer screen, three figures walked into the hall and vanished from the surveillance footage as quickly as they’d appeared. The shocking thing was—each person had a pitch-black head made of hair perched on their neck, making it impossible to distinguish them in the video.

The date in the top right corner of the video was September 5th, 10:03 AM, while the date in the bottom left corner of the computer was September 5th, 10:40 AM.

Shen Maomao covered her mouth, stifling a cry, a shiver running down her spine. She touched the back of her neck with her other hand, barely able to speak: “We…”

Guan Qiwen, his face equally shocked, finished her sentence: “We’ve been possessed by Feitouman,¹ but we didn’t even know it.”

“But… why don’t we feel anything?” Shen Maomao asked, suppressing her fear.

Lou Jingmo, the calmest of the three, said: “Check the book.”

Guan Qiwen immediately flipped through the book to the page about Feitouman.

Besides the introduction, the book also contained many anecdotes about Feitouman. They hadn’t expected to encounter this kind of monster before, so they hadn’t paid close attention to the details. Now, Guan Qiwen quickly scanned the page, summarizing: “It says that because this monster’s head and body are often separated, you can see the blood inside at the neck, like entangled red threads. The possessed person won’t remember what happens after their head detaches.”

“I don’t feel anything looking at this page. The Feitouman must have already gone out!” Shen Maomao said as she pulled open her collar for Lou Jingmo to see her neck. “Lou-jie!! Look!!”

There was indeed a circle of red thread on her neck. The crimson line resembled a perfect necklace, making her skin appear even more delicate and translucent. Lou Jingmo’s gaze fixed on the snowy white skin and the two protruding collarbones, almost unable to look away.

If there were a crystal pendant resting right between the collarbones, with a delicate jawline above and the gentle swell of breasts below… it would be absolutely perfect…

“Lou-jie? Are there red lines or not?!” Shen Maomao, seeing her staring at her neck without speaking, imagined all sorts of terrifying scenarios and panicked. “Can I still be saved? Just tell me straight!”

Lou Jingmo snapped out of her trance, averting her eyes and coughing awkwardly. Her voice was a bit hoarse: “Cough… there are red lines, but you should still be salvageable.”

Guan Qiwen also undid the buttons of his work uniform, pulling at his collar and saying, “What about me? I have them too, right?”

“Let me see… huh?” Shen Maomao was about to turn around to look when Lou Jingmo pulled her back.

Lou Jingmo didn’t speak but reached out towards her neck.

Shen Maomao, thinking she had a way to deal with the Feitouman, straightened up and raised her chin to give her a better view of the red lines.

In the next second, Lou Jingmo tilted her head slightly and buttoned her third button.

Shen Maomao: “???”

Lou Jingmo’s expression was serious, as if she were about to negotiate a billion-dollar deal, completely focused on the struggle with the buttons on Shen Maomao’s chest.

Shen Maomao’s mind went blank. She lowered her eyes, watching Lou Jingmo’s slender fingers flitting across her chest. Her warm breath seemed to penetrate her clothes, tickling her skin.

She could almost hear her own heartbeat—thump-thump-thump-thump, beating rapidly against her eardrums.

Lou Jingmo meticulously fastened the top button, only satisfied when the snowy white skin was completely covered by the dark blue uniform. Then, she affectionately adjusted her collar: “Go ahead.”

Shen Maomao blushed for some reason and turned to Guan Qiwen to hide her embarrassment: “Let me see yours…”

Guan Qiwen’s face was indifferent: “No need. I already saw it myself on the screen. There are red lines.”

Shen Maomao apologized awkwardly: “Don’t misunderstand. Lou-jie is under the Wutong’s influence, and I’m the only other woman here. Our relationship is purely platonic.”

Guan Qiwen: “Uh-huh.”

Lou Jingmo rubbed her thumb expressionlessly, the delicate sensation still lingering on her fingertips. She couldn’t quite tell whether her actions were due to the Wutong’s influence or the dark, hidden desires within her own heart.

Shen Maomao looked at her neck: “Lou-jie, do you have them?”

Lou Jingmo came back to her senses and said firmly: “No.”

Shen Maomao: “Huh? You were possessed in the surveillance footage too!”

Lou Jingmo: “Because I haven’t slept.”

After possessing a human, the Feitouman would sneak out while the host was asleep to find another sleeping person, wring their head off, and devour them. But as long as one stayed awake, their head wouldn’t detach, and they wouldn’t encounter other Feitouman.

This method probably only worked for someone like Lou Jingmo.

“You’re too strong… I can’t do that.” Shen Maomao said admiringly. “Lou-jie, aren’t you tired?”

Lou Jingmo turned back to the video footage and said casually: “I’m used to it.”

Shen Maomao immediately closed her mouth, swallowing the words of comfort that had risen to her lips.

Lou-jie didn’t need pity, nor did she need comfort.

But she still couldn’t help but feel distressed.

Feeling like a third wheel, Guan Qiwen quickly turned the page and continued: “The book says that the possessed person’s body will wither and die on the seventh night, and their head will become a new Feitouman. After leaving the host’s body, the Feitouman will return before dawn. If it can’t return in time, it will wither and die.”

Shen Maomao: “So it dies, but what about the host’s head?”

Lou Jingmo: “Naturally, it dies too.”

Shen Maomao clutched her neck with both hands as if trying to strangle herself: “Damn, I don’t want to sleep either. I didn’t know the first few times, but if it doesn’t make it back, I won’t even know where to cry.”

Lou Jingmo asked: “Besides mutual destruction, is there any other way to deal with it?” As she spoke, she continued to scroll through the surveillance footage, seemingly searching for something.

Guan Qiwen flipped through the book: “Unfortunately, no.” Then he changed the subject: “Shouldn’t our goal be to find the exit? The Feitouman is a problem, but as long as we leave the game, the problem will naturally be solved…”

Lou Jingmo said: “It’s not as easy as you think. I’ve figured out most of the game’s mechanics.”

Shen Maomao, still confused: “?? When did you figure that out?”

Lou Jingmo curled her lips: “That Hundred Ghosts Pictures is a tool to help us, but it’s also a trap. The outcome depends on your perspective.”

The so-called Hundred Ghosts Pictures didn’t necessarily contain only ghosts. Half-truths were always the most deceptive. When nine-tenths were true, the remaining tenth naturally became true as well.

That thing outside wasn’t some fierce ghost or Yaksha; it was clearly a ghost Yaksha officer.² The reason it persistently attacked the funeral home was that there were a bunch of ghostly things inside! And since most of the players were possessed by ghosts, they would be attacked once they left the funeral home.

This reasoning shattered Shen Maomao’s previous understanding. She said uncertainly: “So the game is definitely messing with us?”

Guan Qiwen thought for a moment and agreed with Lou Jingmo’s viewpoint: “What you said makes sense, but what does the Yaksha have to do with leaving the instance? Did you discover something?”

Lou Jingmo nodded: “I saw light on the Yaksha.”

Shen Maomao: “?? I didn’t see anything?”

Lou Jingmo flipped her wrist, a small prop flashing before their eyes and quickly disappearing: “This is a prop I obtained in the last world. It allows me to see white light when I’m close to the exit.”

Usually, the exit’s white light would only appear after players cleared the instance, but the game had all sorts of props. It wasn’t surprising to have one that could detect the exit early.

Believing that Lou Jingmo wouldn’t lie to him given the financial stakes, Guan Qiwen said: “In that case, we should change our objective. Our top priority now is to find a way to get rid of the Feitouman, right?”

“Right.” Lou Jingmo’s eyes remained glued to the screen, clicking on the video she wanted.

On September 1st, they had been led into the hall by Huang Hongxing, who was completely controlled by the Feitouman but somehow hadn’t died. At that moment, six Feitouman swarmed them, choosing their six hosts—Shen Maomao, Lou Jingmo, Guan Qiwen, Xiao Qiao, Gong Lian, and Wang Liang.

The fog that had clouded their minds finally began to dissipate. Lou Jingmo zoomed in on the surveillance footage and discovered that there were no Da Bao or Great Poet among the people in the video.

Of the thirteen people, only San Huang and the middle-aged woman looked familiar. They had no impression of the others.

Shen Maomao was bewildered: “So Da Bao, who was so good at leading the charge, was actually a werewolf?”

Lou Jingmo pointed below: “And look at their lower bodies.”

Guan Qiwen and Shen Maomao leaned in closer, finally noticing the most jarring detail in the video—apart from the six of them entangled by Feitouman, the others had empty pant legs; they had no legs.

“So everyone who went to the highway to look for people died? The ones who actually entered the game were the six of us…”

Unfortunately, most of these six were now dead, leaving only the three of them.

Lou Jingmo looked at Guan Qiwen, her eyes sharp as arrows: “You lied.”

Shen Maomao, still lost: “Huh??”

Guan Qiwen froze for a moment, but instead of arguing, he admitted frankly: “That’s my fault. I can pay more.”

Lou Jingmo: “It’s not about the money. I’ll get you out of this instance, but we won’t be working together again.”

Guan Qiwen shrugged: “Fine… I wasn’t being straight with you.”

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