What malicious intent could NPCs possibly have? C40.2

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Chp40. part2

It was easy to imagine that the Normal Passengers, who had luckily avoided being designated as Imposters, would never agree to draw a circle on their wrists, transforming their privileged status into that of an Imposter marked for ejection.

They’d rather throw the Imposters off the train than mark themselves and share the risk.

Even if that Imposter had saved them earlier.

They didn’t want to hear another word from him, let alone agree to be marked.

They had to wait for Pei Han to establish control first.

Ning Ge had originally planned to reveal the method that would save everyone once Pei Han gained the upper hand.

However, just moments ago, when the entire carriage disowned Pei Han’s life-saving act and rushed to drag him away, Ning Ge suddenly changed her mind.

She glanced at the countdown timer at the end of the carriage. Five minutes remained.

Clutching the marker in her hand, she looked at the carriage full of people—those Pei Han had saved once, only to beat them to a pulp.

The wind blew through the wheat field.

Let the wheat that’s meant to fall, fall.

Pei Han watched her silently, reaching for the marker in her hand.

Ning Ge didn’t let go, meeting his gaze.

His eyes were icy and distant, yet crystal clear.

After enduring so many dungeons and witnessing so much human cruelty, he remained a normal person.

Pei Han gripped the marker along with her hand, his voice low as he said, “You’ll regret this.”

“When you get out, you’ll have nightmares,” he continued, “dreaming of all these faces. Not for them, but for you. Don’t let yourself regret it.”

Ning Ge didn’t dream.

She had never dreamed, falling asleep whenever she wanted and sleeping deeply.

The warmth from Pei Han’s palm radiated through her, comforting and reassuring.

Ning Ge loosened her grip on the marker.

Pei Han took the marker, walked a few steps, and tossed it to the middle-aged man lying on the ground.

“I’m not getting off this bus. Just draw a circle on your wrist, and you’ll live. It’s up to you.”

The middle-aged man, close enough to hear everything and quick-witted, had already understood.

Trying to throw Pei Han off the bus was a pipe dream. The Imposter would definitely survive, and if they wanted to live too, they had to find another way.

He glanced at Pei Han.

Pei Han stood casually against the bus wall, watching the scene unfold with detached amusement.

No one could deal with him.

There was no other way out.

The middle-aged man gripped the marker, took a deep breath, and resolved to draw a small red circle on his wrist.

Someone whispered, “It’s a permanent marker. Once you draw it, you can’t erase it.”

There was nothing left but to gamble, no room for regret.

Ning Ge didn’t want to tell them that drawing a red circle on the bracelet would reveal the Impersonator Mark. She watched curiously, wondering how this group would choose.

After drawing the circle, the middle-aged man pulled the arm of the man in the black T-shirt lying beside him.

The black T-shirt’s leg had been kicked and broken by Pei Han, and his chest bore two heavy blows. He lay half-dead, seemingly unconscious.

The middle-aged man drew a circle on his wrist as well.

Others tentatively tried it out, asking the man for the marker and drawing circles on their own wrists.

At first, everyone hesitated. But as the countdown ticked away, more and more people drew circles. The initial reluctance gradually devolved into a chaotic scramble for the marker.

Amidst the noise, Ning Ge heard Lu Juan’s voice over the broadcast:

“This is the rear vehicle broadcast. The solution is simple: drawing red circles on everyone is the best way out,” he said. “The problem is how to convince everyone. After all, throwing one person off is much easier.”

Ning Ge thought: Convince? Just beat them into submission.

Lu Juan said nothing more.

Just before the countdown hit zero, everyone in the carriage had finally drawn a red circle on their wrist.

A rustling sound came from the darkness.

Five Masked Men appeared at the carriage door.

They boarded, and the leader scanned the crowd with the eyes behind his mask. “Is the Imposter still alive? Who is the Imposter?”

Ning Ge pulled up her sleeve and showed them the red circle on her wrist.

“Me too,” Pei Han said, also rolling up his sleeve.

Owen pushed aside his bracelet strap and grinned, waving his arm at them.

The other passengers snapped out of their shock and scrambled to show their red circles to the Masked Men.

Every single person in the carriage had a red circle.

The Masked Men lowered their heads, checked the bracelets of those near the door, and remained silent, neither confirming nor denying anything.

One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.

The Black T-shirt man, whose leg Pei Han had broken and who had been lying unconscious on the floor, suddenly woke up and shouted, “They’re all cheating! I report them! Their circles are drawn with markers—all fake!”

Ning Ge: “……”

The Black T-shirt desperately shuffled toward the Masked Man’s feet. “I’m the only one who didn’t cheat! I followed the rules honestly. They forced this circle on me while I was unconscious!”

He peeled off his bracelet, revealing the circle underneath, and scrubbed furiously at the red marker.

Of course, it wouldn’t come off.

The Masked Man lowered his head, his dark eyes fixed on him.

The Black T-shirt grew frantic. “It’s true! Everyone in the carriage was cheating! I was the only one who didn’t cheat! Those who colluded should be eliminated—only I should pass!”

The marker on his skin wouldn’t budge no matter how hard he scrubbed. Desperate, he bit down on his arm, tearing off the red circle along with a chunk of flesh.

At that bite, the Masked Man moved.

He grabbed the man’s arm, checked the screen on his bracelet, and signaled to those behind him.

Two Masked Men stepped forward, working together to drag the Black T-shirt to his feet, one on each side.

The Black T-shirt struggled frantically. “Why are you taking me? You’ve made a mistake!”

The Masked Men ignored his pleas, dragging him to the carriage door and tossing him lightly into the darkness outside.

The middle-aged man sighed.

According to the rules, the thirty-minute countdown had passed. Since the Imposter was still alive, he had won. Any ordinary player without a red circle on their wrist would be executed.

The Masked Men checked each person one by one. As Ning Ge had expected, they didn’t look at the red circles on their wrists, but at a small mark on the bracelet screen.

No one else was thrown out. The Masked Men had completed their task and exited the car.

The carriage fell silent. Though everyone had survived, no one celebrated or spoke.

The train resumed its journey through the darkness and quiet. As soon as it started moving, Pei Han slung his backpack over his shoulder. He, Ning Ge, and Owen waited by the connecting door.

The automated announcement chimed: “This subway’s terminal station is Loop Line Station. Next stop: Anyong Street.”

The connecting door between carriages slid open, and the group left the compartment without hesitation.

The new carriage also contained several surviving passengers.

As soon as Ning Ge entered the carriage, she began observing it carefully.

First, no one had dismantled the seats, even after Lu Juan’s broadcast. The fact that the carriage hadn’t been cleared by the Masked Man indicated that the passengers had already voluntarily reduced their numbers to a level that would resolve the “overcrowding” problem before Lu Juan’s announcement. She wondered how many had been thrown off.

Second, black shoulder bags were carelessly tossed on the carriage floor, and the dangerous weapons like wrenches had been distributed. The useless marker pens, however, remained in their slots, untouched. With so many people still alive, this meant the Imposter had been discovered and thrown off the train.

This was a dangerous carriage.

Pei Han also scanned the surroundings, cautiously finding a corner and standing there with his arm around Ning Ge.

Ning Ge warily eyed the strangers around them.

Noticing her vigilance, Pei Han murmured, “In normal life, these people are good fathers, good colleagues, good neighbors—the kind who greet you, chat, and help out. The only way to keep them acting like good people is to prevent them from ever being put in a situation like this.”

“How do we prevent it?” Ning Ge couldn’t help but ask. “Blow this whole place up?”

There were so many dungeons; destroying one would only create countless more.

Pei Han remained silent.

A ding-dong sound broke the silence in the carriage, followed by the automated announcement: “The train is approaching Anyong Street. Please be careful of the gap between the train and the platform.”

The subway slowed to a halt, its doors hissing open.

No one knew what fresh horror awaited them at this stop.

The broadcast remained silent, without even a task prompt. The train, its dark mouth agape, waited quietly, as if expecting something.

Everyone was at a loss, like prisoners on death row, their sentencing dragged out to infinity.

After an indeterminate time, static crackled through the broadcast.

Lu Juan’s voice cut through the noise.

He had never given a warning so early.

His voice was hurried and urgent: “I heard a strange noise near the doors. Be careful and stay away from them.”

He immediately cut off the broadcast.

The passengers exchanged wary glances. Those near the doors hesitated before slowly backing away.

Ning Ge and her group had stayed in a corner near the partition door since entering the carriage, far from the doors. They didn’t need to retreat further.

Suddenly, a piercing scream came from the doorway.

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