My Healing Games

Chapter 726 The bright card
Upon hearing Han Fei's voice, the fugitive's expression changed, and confusion and bewilderment flashed in his eyes. However, in just the time it took to turn around, all his expressions returned to normal.

The two did not exchange any further words. Han Fei had already walked to the center of the corridor ahead of everyone else. He did not stand with the others and kept a certain distance from his wife.

"The water won't rise to the second floor anytime soon, come with me first." Knowing he was about to die, the hotel owner gestured for the waiter to help him back to his room.

"What can't you say to our faces? Why do you have to hide it from us? Is this a black market? Have you been staging this whole thing yourselves?" The magician's eyes showed no pity or sympathy. He saw the old man's health deteriorating and his expression gradually becoming more relaxed. It seemed that of everyone present, he was only afraid of the old man.

"I'm getting old, and I don't have much time left. I have some things I want to say to my family." The old man urged the waiter to follow him into the room, but Kuangxiao happened to be standing at the door of the boss's room, and he didn't seem to have any intention of moving aside.

“Your neck injury is serious and requires emergency treatment. I happen to have played a doctor before and have some knowledge of surgical first aid.” Laughing, he leaned against the door frame: “I can save you.”

“No need.” More than magicians and fugitives, the old man feared the maniacal laughter. Just seeing that handsome, smiling face sent chills down his spine.

"Is there anything more important than your own life?" The maniac still didn't move aside: "The inn should have first aid tools. If not, find some clean strips of cloth and let me help you stop the bleeding."

"You've been wary of us. Are you worried about the murderer? Or is there some unspeakable secret hidden in your room?" The magician also came over. He looked at some portraits hanging on the wall: "According to the information that the murderer stuffed into the back of the victim's head, everyone in the hotel is a guest, but you claim to be the hotel owner. That's strange."

"At least this proves I'm not the murderer." The innkeeper's injuries couldn't be delayed any longer; blood was flowing down his neck, looking horribly gruesome.

"Perhaps you were just the first tourist to enter the hotel. You treated this place as your own home, claiming to be the owner, but in reality, you're just a thief! Maybe you're the murderer who killed the original hotel owner!" The magician's voice wasn't loud, but what he said inevitably made others think.

In this hotel whose name contains the character for "heart," every guest has a public identity and a private identity.

On the surface, the police officer is a policeman who maintains order and justice, but when faced with danger, his only thought is to kill everyone to save his own life. In reality, he may be the fugitive himself.

Needless to say, his maniacal laughter makes him seem more cheerful than anyone else at first glance, but once you get to know him, you'll realize just how terrifying that cheerfulness can be.

The innkeeper, the magician, and Han Fei were all like this.

People only show the side of themselves that they want others to see, burying the deeper darkness and gloom in their hearts. Only when faced with life and death will their true nature be revealed.

"Two of us might be murderers. No one should try to slip out of everyone's sight before the vote is over." The magician didn't know what the hotel owner wanted to say to the waiter behind everyone's back, and the owner couldn't possibly tell everyone what he was going to say, so the best thing to do at this time was for everyone to ignore it and let the secret rot in the hotel owner's heart, or more accurately, in his corpse.

The wind lashed against the windowpanes, and a finger-width crack appeared in the hotel ceiling, letting in black rain.

The first floor of the hotel was already flooded. The black rainwater was thick and murky, just like the lives of some tourists, so dull that it was suffocating.

The hotel, located in the center of the maze, swayed in the storm and could collapse at any moment. This building seemed to have a special meaning to the entire park, and its collapse would represent the end of something.

"Let's continue voting," the usually quiet waiter said, seemingly to reassure the hotel owner.

“No problem, but before we vote, I want to say something.” The middle-aged screenwriter leaned against the aisle wall, sitting on the floor, pointing to the wound on his chest: “I vaguely saw the person who wanted to kill me.”

The murderer was spotted, and after he said that, everyone's attention was on him.

"who is it?"

“His face is quite distinctive, different from the rest of us. I need them all to take off their masks before I can make a judgment.” The middle-aged screenwriter pointed to Han Fei and the waiter inside the room who were wearing masks.

The focus that was originally on the innkeeper has shifted to Han Fei and the waiter.

"This person was the last to come in, and he wore a mask the whole time, which is indeed suspicious." The innkeeper wanted to target Han Fei, but the others didn't care who was being targeted, as long as they weren't the ones being targeted.

"Should I take off my mask?" Han Fei's hoarse voice came from under the mask: "My face has been disfigured. I'm afraid of scaring people, so I've been wearing a mask all this time."

“I remember the killer’s facial features. If I see him, I’ll recognize him.” The screenwriter, the maniac, and the fugitive stood together, and the three of them seemed to have become a group.

"Facial features? Then the person you're seeing is definitely not me." Han Fei touched the edge of the mask with both hands, and as he slowly increased the pressure, blood dripped down his chin.

When he lifted his mask, the people in the room gasped.

Beneath the smiling mask was a bloody, mangled face. It had no features; its cheeks and the mask were fused together, making its outline completely indistinguishable.

"I'm not the murderer." Han Fei held up his mask, one side of which was pure white and the other side was completely soaked in blood.

The screenwriter stared at Han Fei's disfigured face for a long time, seemingly engaged in a fierce internal struggle. After a long while, he shook his head and said, "The murderer is definitely not him; it must be someone else."

In order to remove the mask, Han Fei reopened his wound. After seeing his miserable state, the waiter seemed to have no reason not to remove the mask.

After a moment's hesitation, the waiter also took off his mask; the person was F.

Infiltrate the player base, take over all of Han Fei's resources, possess the same level and abilities as Han Fei, and refer to themselves as F.

Everyone else showed no unusual reaction to F, except for his wife, whose expression changed: "Fu Sheng..."

F avoided Fu Yi's wife's gaze, acting as if he were a stranger.

“That’s right, I saw it very clearly! He’s the murderer!” The screenwriter pointed at F, his face pale, but his tone was very certain.

"Impossible! He's always been by my side. You're slandering him!" The innkeeper, who was on his deathbed, was still defending his waiter.

"I saw it clearly, it was him!" the middle-aged screenwriter insisted.

"It seems I guessed correctly. The innkeeper and the waiter are the murderers. They killed the inn's true owners, and these two thieves set up this trap." The magician pressed on, "Stop pretending to be innocent, and tell us if there's any way to escape?"

Apart from the middle-aged woman, everyone else was united against the outsider and prepared to get rid of the hotel owner and his family first.

Throughout the entire process, Han Fei remained silent. He held the mask and glanced at his wife.

If the hotel owner dies, will the wife cast her vote for Fu Sheng or for herself?

The congealed scab broke open again. Han Fei was a little tired. He sat at the entrance of the stairwell, watching the water level rise rapidly.

"The waiter had no reason to kill the screenwriter; they were quite far apart, with police officers in between. If the killer wasn't the waiter, why would the screenwriter frame him?"

"The most likely scenario is that the glass shards were actually stabbed into the chest by the hysterical laughter or the screenwriter himself, as they wanted to use it to attack someone."

Han Fei recalled the screenwriter's tone and felt that the real purpose of the maniac and the screenwriter was to target him, but the screenwriter did not follow the maniac's instructions completely, which led to the focus of the attack being placed on F, who was also wearing a mask.

"When the chandelier fell, he went to the counter to help everyone find a light. He didn't have time to commit the crime at all. The murderer is someone else! Don't be fooled!" The hotel owner tried to explain, but no one paid attention to what he said. Someone had to die to delay the lives of others. They needed to find a plausible reason for the murder.

Seeing everyone's gazes, the hotel owner was filled with despair. After he died, the next one would probably be the waiter.

"Alright, since you don't believe me..." The old man grabbed the waiter's arm and whispered a few words in his ear. The waiter's expression changed slightly, as if he hadn't expected such a thing to happen.

While the waiter was still in shock, the hotel owner painstakingly began to write the waiter's name in blood. As he wrote, he looked at the other guests and said, "The secret about this choice is now only known to him and me. Vote. If he doesn't live to the end after I die, all of you will be buried with him!"

"A threat? You're putting on a good show?" Most people didn't believe the innkeeper's words, but Han Fei and Kuang Xiao kept staring at the waiter's face, trying to figure something out.

“You have a way to save others, but don’t turn that way into a noose around your own necks.” The innkeeper put his vote into the black box, wanting to vote as soon as possible while he was still lucid and help the waiter get through a few more rounds.

Black rain flooded the first floor of the hotel. The third round ended very quickly, with no one dying.

After the police officer died, the fugitive found the Laughing Maniac and decided to follow the Maniac Maniac's previous suggestion to give his vote to the screenwriter, hoping that the Maniac Maniac would vote for him so that all three of them could survive.

Since there were no fatalities, the black rain intensified, the cracks in the roof spread, and a large amount of rainwater flowed directly into the hotel from the top, causing the water on the first floor of the hotel to slowly deepen.

"Keep voting." The old man in the hotel forced himself to vote, his arms trembling more and more violently, and too much blood was flowing from the wound on his neck, making it hard for him to breathe.

The fourth round of voting was deliberately prolonged by the magician and the screenwriter. The way they looked at the innkeeper was not as if they were looking at a person, but as if they were looking at a sacrifice.

The waiter hurriedly tried to stop the bleeding for the hotel owner, but it didn't help much, as the old man already had many ailments.

The fourth round of voting ended, and no one in the hotel had died yet. By this time, the black water had risen to the stairs, and the sofas in the lobby where they had sat were soaked in the black water. The corpse that had been lying flat on the dining table slowly floated up, its arms were blown off, as if it were standing in hell with its arms outstretched, waiting for the others to come and join it.

The torrential rain ravaged the hotel, causing the building to sway and collapse at any moment.

"Continue!" As if experiencing a final burst of lucidity, the innkeeper wrote down the waiter's name, put it in the black box, and then staggered toward the magician, leaning against the wall.

Under everyone's watchful eyes, he grabbed the magician's clothes and whispered a few words.

"Don't get me wrong, he didn't tell me anything," the magician explained to those around him, but no one believed him.

After the old man finished speaking, he seemed to be too exhausted to walk back.

What surprised Han Fei was that the waiter who was on the same side as the old man did not come over to help him this time. Instead, he was holding a pen and struggling with his thoughts. He hesitated for a moment when writing the old man's name.

"There's a problem..."

After the fifth round of voting ended, Han Fei sensed something was wrong and moved closer to his wife.

Strangely, whenever he moved, the half-dead old man would move his body with difficulty.

"What does he want to do?"

The seriously ill elderly man with a cut neck posed no threat, but Han Fei suddenly remembered the waiter's hesitation when writing down his name.

Han Fei caught that moment of hesitation, and a guess popped into his mind.

"Could the old man have known he was going to die, so he deliberately didn't let the waiter write down his name? Did he want to use the few seconds it took for the black mist to surge out of his body to kill someone in the room?"

Just as Han Fei thought of this, the dying old man's skin cracked open, and mist seeped from his mouth and nose. He charged at Han Fei like a monster!
"Is he targeting me?"

The old man seemed to know that his wife was Fu Sheng's mother, and that only by killing Han Fei would his wife not hesitate to wholeheartedly help Fu Sheng.

He knew he was going to die, but he wanted to use his death to give Fu Sheng a way to live.

The black mist devours everything; once touched, it cannot be escaped.

Fortunately, Han Fei had prepared in advance for the old man's sudden attack, and he retreated even faster.

The old man struggled in the black fog for significantly longer than the police officer. Realizing that killing Han Fei was hopeless, he immediately lunged at the mute little girl.

For Fu Sheng, the optimal solution is to kill Han Fei and reunite the mother and son; the second best solution is to kill the little girl and force the magician to cooperate with Fu Sheng.

The black mist gnawed at his heart, lungs, flesh, and blood. The kind and gentle old man now resembled a ferocious demon, his hands, corrupted by the black mist, reaching out to grab the girl.

The terrified child desperately tried to dodge, but she was already standing on the edge of the fence.

"If you die, more people can live. He is the most suitable choice." The hand in the black mist touched the girl, but in the next moment, something no one expected happened.

Han Fei, who had already moved aside, rushed over and, just as the girl was about to be enveloped by the old man's black mist, risked being swallowed by the mist himself to pull her aside.

In just a few seconds, the old man was completely swallowed by the black mist. He let out a resentful roar and disappeared into the black box.

Han Fei, still shaken, held the girl close. He instinctively checked the girl's arm that had touched the black mist, all of which was observed by the middle-aged screenwriter.

Many people treated the little girl as a key, but only one young building manager treated her like a real child.

Staring at that bloodied and mangled face, the middle-aged screenwriter had already formed his own judgment.

“The girl has the same face as Hachi, and she was his first friend. He will not stand by and watch that child be killed in front of him.”

(End of this chapter)