absurd deduction game.

The manuscript ends abruptly there, with the last few lines so distorted they are almost illegible. By the very last line, Yu Xing could almost picture Edgar muttering to himself in a daze.

"He was trying to understand how this city operated, looking for a way to leave," Qu Xianqing concluded, his tone detached. "But judging from the fact that there has been no news of him for thirty years, he has clearly failed—"

She then added, "No, not necessarily. He entered the City of Terror from Yolikev Town, but he might not be back in the same place. If the news spread to a faraway place, he might lose his memory, go into hiding, or die before he could return home due to the pollution. All of these are possible."

Although the possibility is extremely small.

Compared to the ancient gods, the struggles of an ordinary mortal are perhaps just a pastime when one is bored.

The actor ran his fingers lightly across the cool surface of the workbench, looking at the spinal workbench, finger bone pen, skull ink, and skin paper, a glint of fascination in his eyes: "Edgar himself couldn't have made these things."

"Was this city specially provided for him? If this was the will of the ancient gods... He seems to want the 'recorder' to 'create' in some particular, blasphemous way, so as to glorify His existence."

"Perhaps, in the final analysis, the ancient god still wanted to spread his name, which is why he set his sights on a travel writer who had a certain reputation."

Listening to the performer's conjecture, Yu Xing put down the manuscript and turned her gaze to the deeper darkness of the library.

In any case, Edgar's manuscript provides a wealth of information: the city's patterns, the whispered hierarchy, the need for a new key to leave, and... the core located atop the clock tower, known as the "heart" of the city of terror.

They could certainly find this information, but it would take time. It must be said that the manuscript left by Edgar was of great help to them at this moment.

The clock tower... Edgar said he wanted to go to the clock tower.

He himself was likely there—either already part of the “heartbeat” or he met with misfortune while trying to approach or disrupt it.

“Let’s go to the clock tower,” Yu Xing decided. “No matter what he’s like now, we have to go. Just be careful of ‘Heartbeat.’ Since the City of Terror is the territory of the ancient gods, Heartbeat might be some kind of vessel for divine descent.”

Although I've been chasing Edgar around here and around, seemingly passively, things have become clearer now.

He put away those precious skin manuscripts, which were not only clues but also revelations that Edgar had painstakingly collected, containing the idea of ​​defying the city's rules.

The library was still chattering away in their ears. Even the actors disliked this kind of incessant chatter. As soon as Yu Xing spoke, the three of them couldn't wait to run to the library entrance, bidding farewell to this building located in the heart of the city, which was sure to hold many secrets.

The three of them walked quickly out of the library, which was made of skin and bones, almost as if they were fleeing.

The whispers that lingered in my mind were like a sticky spider web, still leaving a rustling echo in the corners of my consciousness even after I left the building.

The sky outside remained that unsettling, writhing, dark purple membrane, with its gigantic, pale eyeballs coldly gazing down at the twisted earth.

They determined their direction and headed towards the western side of the city, towards the towering, ghastly tombstone-like outline of the clock tower.

Something seems different outside.

The shadowy figures on the street seemed to be more numerous than before; they drifted silently, their empty "gazes" occasionally sweeping over the three of them.

Perhaps as time went by, Yu Xing and the others also absorbed the unique aura of the City of Terror, blending in slightly. Even though they didn't avoid the shadows immediately, the shadows only showed numb malice, but didn't pounce on them as frantically as before.

The entire city was immersed in an eerie, oppressive calm, and the three of them cautiously moved forward within this strange tranquility.

However, this state did not last long.

Just as they were passing through a narrow alleyway flanked by buildings that resembled twisted viscera—

"clang--!!!"

A heavy, long, and soul-tearing bell suddenly came from the direction of the clock tower on the west side!

This sound was different from all the sounds they heard in the City of Terror.

It is pure, ancient, and carries a cold and majestic majesty that seems to come from the depths of the universe.

In an instant, the sound of the bell reverberated in ripples that seemed to become tangible, instantly engulfing the entire city of terror!
Changes occur suddenly.

The constantly writhing, dark purple membrane-like sky above everyone's heads seemed to have been wiped away by an invisible giant hand, replaced by an extremely deep and pure blackness, like an endless cosmic vacuum.

The pale eyeballs that were originally embedded in the flesh membrane suddenly disintegrated and then reassembled, slowly rotating.

They began to glow, cold and vast, casting countless gazes from ancient celestial bodies across billions of light-years, filled with an inhuman, soul-chilling majesty and indifference.

Between the stars, the vague, enormous, and indescribable outline of shadows can be seen moving slowly against the dark background.

Despite the lack of explanation, the answer quickly came to the minds of Yu Xing and the other two, who were somewhat integrated into the environment—the sound of the bell signaled the change of day and night.

Night has fallen in the city of terror.

“Look ahead…” Qu Xianqing reminded him.

As night fell, the scene on the street underwent a dramatic transformation.

Those shadowy figures that were originally translucent and radiating despair quickly became solid and clear under the illumination of the "starlight".

They are no longer blurry outlines, but reveal concrete images of their former lives—wearing clothing from different social classes in the Victorian era, with clear faces, though most of these faces carry a deep-seated weariness and fear.

Even more chilling is that they came to life.

The shadows no longer drifted aimlessly; like real "residents," they began to walk along the streets, even exchanging brief, polite greetings with each other, or entering the twisted doors of those buildings.

A "vendor" appeared on the street corner, pushing a phantom cart. The cart was filled with unrecognizable goods formed from shadows and fear, and the sounds of children running could be heard in the distance.

The entire city of terror seemed to shift from an eternal, silent nightmare to a bizarre and oppressive scene of "everyday life" the moment the bells rang and night fell.

These now clearer shadow dwellers no longer cared much about the presence of Yu Xing and his companions, or rather, they regarded them as some kind of... insignificant background figures.

They walked past the three people, their gazes occasionally sweeping over them, but no longer with aggression, only with the indifference one would show to strangers. This was far more chilling than a direct attack.

"What...what's going on?" Qu Xianqing gripped the hilt of his sword, warily observing the residents around him who seemed to have come to life. "An illusion?"

The actor narrowed his eyes slightly, sensing the increasingly complex and restrained, yet also more deeply ingrained, pollution in the air: "Night... the rules have changed. They seem to be 'playing' the roles they played in life; this city is simulating some kind of order."

A sorrowful male figure walked past Yu Xing, and the figure even subconsciously avoided him, as if he were just avoiding a pedestrian blocking his way.

His senses told him that the essence of these shadowy figures had not changed; they were still the embodiment of despair and fear. However, under the rules of the night, they were forcibly embedded in a certain "daily" script, becoming akin to puppets.

This is a good thing.

At least, it would be too cruel if those people caught up in the city didn't die with peace, but instead lingered in their consciousness with vivid memories.

“Let’s keep going,” Yu Xing said.

Just then, a little girl named Youying, who looked about seven or eight years old and wore a faded dress with two pigtails, bumped into Yu Xing from the alley next door and hit him squarely in the thigh.

Bang.

The shadowy figure was scattered for a moment, then quickly reassembled like grains of sand. The little girl took a few steps back, touched her forehead, and slowly raised her head.

She blinked her large, empty eyes and, in a childlike, innocent, and straightforward tone, spoke—the voice resonated directly in the minds of the three, a manifestation of mental fluctuation—asking:
"I've never seen you before. Are you new neighbors? Are you lost?"

Before they could respond, the little girl tilted her head and said, "I saw it, I smelled it, I heard it. You want to go to that clock tower, don't you?"

Yu Xing felt a chill run down her spine.

This little girl was the first "resident" to take the initiative to communicate with them. In just a few words, she revealed the Shadows' ability to capture the mental fluctuations of the living and understand their intentions.

He crouched down, trying to appear calm: "Can we go to the clock tower?"

"Why not?" The little girl's tone was somewhat puzzled, as if going anywhere was a perfectly normal thing. She "thought for a moment" and then suddenly realized, "You're lost, so you don't know how to get to the clock tower."

Yu Xing: "Then do you know?"

“Of course!” The little girl nodded, a sly smile appearing on her face that seemed out of place with her empty eyes, making her look particularly eerie. “I can lead the way for you, but you have to give me money.”

She stretched out a small, translucent palm, rubbed her fingers together, and made a classic "asking for money" gesture that could be seen in any human marketplace.

"Let me tell you a secret: it's easy to get lost at night. If you don't hire me, you'll be wandering around in the dark for ages. I've seen neighbors like you who wanted to wander around, and they got lost, but eventually they found their way back to this neighborhood."

"And then, they never left again."

The little girl's gesture of "wanting money" and her innocent yet eerie words plunged the three into an absurd silence.

In the depths of this hell built of fear and madness, they unexpectedly encountered a little ghost demanding "guide fees." Is this also a manifestation of the rules of the city of terror?

"Money?" Qu Xianqing repeated subconsciously, her tone carrying a strange disbelief. "What...do you use as money here?"

The little girl tilted her head, seemingly thinking the question was a bit silly: "Of course it's 'memory'! Or 'emotion' would also work? The stronger the better! Happiness, fear, anger... If you want something, you have to give something in return."

Yu Xing's eyes flickered slightly. Of course, he couldn't give away his memories. Here, all transactions involving spirit and consciousness could not be easily handed over.

He thought for a moment, then took out the few skin manuscripts left by Edgar from his pocket. Using a twig, he carefully peeled away a trace of the extremely faint emotion that Edgar had shown when recording the city's patterns—emotion that itself did not contain great power, but was pure enough.

He held the tip of the branch to the little girl: "Is this okay?"

The little girl leaned closer and sniffed with her empty "nose"... Even though she wasn't breathing, a satisfied look appeared on her face: "Hmm! It's the smell I like! There's not much, but it's enough to lead the way once!"

She stretched out her small hand, and the faint light seemed to be drawn in, merging into her palm, making her translucent body appear to solidify into a tiny, insignificant sliver.

She clapped her hands happily: "Come with me! Remember, at night, follow the path, don't run around, don't make loud noises, and don't look directly at the stars for too long!"

The deal was done, and the little girl turned around and skipped ahead to lead the way.

Although she said she would follow the road, she did not choose to go along the main road, but instead turned into a winding path. The performer chuckled and took the lead in following her while Yu Xing and Qu Xianqing were still watching.

"Is it believable?" Qu Xianqing tilted her head.

Yu Xing shrugged: "Let's deal with any problems that arise. We have a margin for error."

The three of them then followed behind the little girl, who would not stop to wait for them, but would only keep moving forward.

Sometimes they would pass through the shadows of walls that seemed like dead ends, creating ripples to reveal a path as they approached, and sometimes they would bypass motionless areas that exuded an ominous aura.

The three followed closely behind her, while cautiously observing the town as it fell into the night.

The scene before me was bizarre and grotesque, filled with a suffocating sense of incongruity.

As they crossed an intersection, they saw two shadowy figures dressed in respectable gentlemanly attire standing silently under a streetlamp formed by twisted vines, exchanging gestures that resembled business negotiations. However, their faces were contorted, and their eyes were filled with negative emotions of greed and calculation.

They passed a market where stalls displayed bread made of solidified shadows, cloth made of worm-like energy, and toys that constantly changed shape and emitted faint moans.

Customers silently select items, trading with fragments of emotions or memories they have extracted from themselves, all recorded by the stars in the sky.

absurd.

What exactly do the ancient gods want to do? (End of Chapter)