Cycle of terror

Winning Probability

"Don't sow discord," Detective Li glared at Qiao Jiajing sharply. "You're a loan shark, and I'm a cop. Who do you think people will believe?"

Qi Xia watched the arguing group. He knew Detective Li wasn't lying—he really was a** (police detective). But his approach was wrong. Maybe it was professional habit or a sense of justice, but he kept trying to organize everyone systematically.

Half the break had passed, and the group gradually fell silent. During this time, Qi Xia had repeated "I'm Li Ming" in his mind countless times, growing annoyed. It was hard to focus with a headless corpse beside him, blood dripping onto the floor. They'd been in the room with the body for nearly an hour, and a strange stench was spreading.

Qi Xia casually glanced at the corpse. Its pants were filthy—after death, organs lose muscle control, causing incontinence. A foul odor preceded the** (corpse stink). Qi Xia and another girl sat on either side of the body; she kept covering her nose, clearly disgusted by the smell.

Ten minutes later, the goat-headed man spoke: "20-minute break over. Game resumes."

The young man named Han Yimo composed himself and took a deep breath: "I'm Han Yimo, a w*******l writer. Before coming here, I was writing the finale of a novel in my rented room. With over a hundred characters, I was focused and heard nothing outside—including when the earthquake hit or when I lost consciousness."

Han Yimo's story stood out—completely "independent," ending in just a few sentences. "That's it?" the burly man frowned. "You say 'I don't know' and done?"

"Since I can't lie, I won't fabricate an answer to fit in," Han Yimo said softly, yet convincingly.

"Fine, next," Detective Li said, still skeptical, gesturing to the next woman.

"Hey, cop," Qiao Jiajing snapped, unhappy with Detective Li's attitude. "We're all 'participants'—don't act like a leader."

"Someone has to organize us," Detective Li retorted. "There's only one enemy. The other eight must unite."

"Still doesn't mean you can boss us," Qiao Jiajing scoffed. "Outside, maybe I'd fear you, but here, who knows if you're the liar?"

"Stop arguing," a cool-headed woman interrupted. Earlier, she'd accused the goat-headed man of imprisoning them for 24 hours, appearing logical and calm. "No matter who wins this 'game,' the rest might be complicit in murder—we voted to let Man-goat kill someone. That's what you should worry about."

Qi Xia's expression shifted. If he survived, he'd "kill" the other eight. But what choice did he have? He held a genuine "Liar" card—who would willingly give up their life for others?

"I'm Zhang Chenze, a lawyer," the woman said, crossing her arms expressionlessly. "Pity we meet in such a** (bizarre) place; otherwise, I'd hand out my business card." No one got her humor, but she didn't care.

"Before coming here, I was preparing for a trial. My client was scammed out of 2 million yuan—a huge, heinous case." At "2 million," everyone stayed calm, but Qiao Jiajing started. "2 million?"

"Yes. Lawyers are supposed to be impartial, but this man borrowed*** (loan shark money) to support his family. Illegal lending is another case, not mine."

"During the earthquake, I was driving to meet him on Qingyang Avenue, past Du Fu's Thatched Cottage near Wuhou Temple. I was going 40 km/h when I saw the road crack ahead. I braked, stopping at the crack, but cars behind rear-ended each other. My car was pushed into the crack, and I blacked out."

Another story ended—only three left to speak. "Wuhou Temple... in Chengdu?" Dr. Zhao asked. "Yes, I work there." The earthquake seemed nationwide. Guessing the liar from these** (strange) stories was nearly impossible.

"Next is me," Detective Li said. "As I said, I'm Li Shangwu, a** from Inner Mongolia. Before coming here, I was staking out a fraudster. We had his exact location—he scammed 2 million yuan, our city's biggest case this year."

"My colleague and I monitored from a car for three days. The suspect was smarter, never showing. We ate, slept in the car, going crazy. Know what's worse for a man than no food or water? No cigarettes. We had none, and we couldn't leave, but the craving was unbearable. I sent my colleague to buy cigarettes while I watched the suspect's door."

"Shortly after he left, the ground shook. I tried to get out, but someone strangled me from behind with a thin wire. Even with martial arts, it was hard to reach. I reclined the seat to breathe, but my big frame got stuck under the steering wheel. The attacker hit me on the head, and I blacked out."

Everyone noticed the red mark on his neck. Unlike others, he was attacked, not caught in an accident. If anyone seemed suspicious, it was him.