Mid spring, tenth month

```
Entering the world of the Scripted Murder Game isn't scary.
Playing the role of the murderer is still doable.
Playing the role of the victim is fine.
Playing the role of a girl is manageable.
Even if you have to deal with dark, strange monsters, and accidentally get tainted by them, it's no big deal.
Shuo looked at the script in his hand and felt that he could still play the part!
…
But after adding a bunch of teammates with mental issues,
he felt that he couldn't go on acting.
This script is a bit off too!
Shuo, "Can we not have a murderer, a victim, a girl, or psychos, and just have a normal person?"
…
——————
【Non-traditional Scripted Murder Mystery Game】
【Attention: The plot will gradually shift from normal to bizarre, focusing on tasks. Each Scripted Murder Game script is original, not fan-made. Non-original scripts will be indicated.】
【Ensemble cast, with undercovers, role-playing, disguises, no female lead.】
```

There's definitely something wrong with this murder mystery game

The sky was still overcast, as if shrouded in a layer of mist, but there was no sign of impending rain.


The village chief had refilled the dug-up pit and gave a brief explanation to the Zhang Family's servants about the incident in Old Li's yard, instructing them to best avoid getting close to the Osmanthus Tree in their own yard.


Shivering, a villager asked, "Village chief, what exactly happened just now, why did Dazhuang suddenly..."


The village chief paused before speaking, "You all know that these days are the half of July, telling you not to get close to the Osmanthus Tree is for your own good, to prevent... possession by evil spirits!"


Upon hearing this, the villagers' pupils shrank, and a look of fear appeared on their faces as if they had thought of something.


"Alright, it's actually not that terrifying, as long as you don't get close to the Osmanthus Tree nothing will happen, you understand?" the village chief consoled.


Chapter 555 This story tells us not to keep a diary when we are idle