Handkerchief = Arm?

The shrill, piercing shrieks began to subside, but the expressions of the ghostly children grew even more twisted with excitement. They continued to lick the corners of their mouths, their eyes gleaming with a bloodthirsty light.

"Toylings," the fat, ball-shaped ghost child sneered, its body riddled with cracks and wounds, fat shaking like a mound of jelly. "The first round... you lost."

"Ha-ha-ha... Lost! Lost!"

"Playthings lost! Now you become food!"

"We'll eat the meat! So tasty!"

"Who should we pick? They all look so delicious!"

"Ha-ha! I'll choose him! I love lean meat!"

The ten ghost children were drooling with excitement, pointing at the players, choosing who would be next. However, Yi Bai stood untouched. Not one of the ghost children chose him.

The Seduction of the Dead talent, while seemingly only allowing ghosts to have a neutral disposition toward Yi Bai at first, was already enough for him to start off on the right foot. After all, 99% of ghosts viewed humans with hostility. A neutral disposition meant they wouldn't automatically attack him unless provoked. It was a small advantage, but an advantage nonetheless.

Yi Bai, sitting calmly, observed the ghost children as they argued and debated over their next "meal." He had no intention of stepping in as a hero. That kind of foolish notion never even crossed his mind. Especially not after what he'd just experienced when returning to the human world.

He had gained a far deeper understanding of human nature. He didn't seek to provoke anyone, and to avoid trouble, he even planned on living in seclusion. Yet, trouble had found him.

Yi Bai knew exactly what would have happened to an ordinary rookie player if they'd fallen into Jiang Junhao's hands. That organization was nothing more than a garbage heap, built solely to exploit newcomers. There was no nurturing, no help, no resources for growth—only exploitation.

In the horror world, ghosts ate humans. In the real world, those people—those organizations—did the same. There was no difference. The human heart was treacherous. The ones who tried to be heroes often ended up dead.

Yi Bai didn't want to die. He had chosen his own path—one that could only bear his own weight.

After much arguing, the ghost children finally selected their "meal."

"You!" the fat ghost child bellowed, like a mountain of flesh swaying as it lumbered toward the new players sitting together.

Boom! Boom!

The heavy steps kicked up dust as it moved.

"No! Not me! It can't be me!"

"Go away! Don't come closer!"

"Pick them! Pick them instead!"

The five new players huddled together, frantically praying in a nervous frenzy. They wanted to move, but it felt as though an invisible force held them in place, trapping them in their seats.

"No! No! Why me?! Why me?!"

The chosen player, a man, completely broke down as the fat ghost child walked directly toward him. He screamed in horror, pleading with a desperate cry, but the ghost didn't care. Ghosts never reasoned with humans.

Much like a butcher doesn't ask a pig if it wants to die before slaughtering it.

The fat ghost child, irritated by the wailing, grimaced, and with a swift movement, slapped its meaty arm.

Smack!

The head of the player exploded, blood and viscera splattering across the scene. Some of it even landed on the faces of nearby players.

The warmth of the blood made their fear surge, as if a volcano had just erupted inside them. Trembling, their bodies froze, unable to move.

And then they experienced true despair.

As the selected player's body was torn apart, blood sprayed in every direction. The ghost children pounced on the remains with brutal savagery. Chewing and swallowing, the sounds of gnawing echoed around the room.

Even worse, some ghost children didn't want to waste the brain matter that had splattered nearby. They licked it off the ground, their decayed tongues slithering over the fresh remains of the dead.

The human players, silent as corpses, dared not breathe or even look at the horrific scene. They kept their heads down, paralyzed by terror.

In comparison, the three veteran players—Ye Qun, Liu Zhen, and Yu Quan—had adapted to such gruesome scenes. They frowned, contemplating why the game was so unfairly stacked against them.

Liu Zhen seemed to have figured something out. His eyes flicked to Yi Bai, who remained completely calm and composed.

Liu Zhen's gut instinct told him that Yi Bai knew the real rules of the game. However, with the ghost children devouring their chosen prey, Liu Zhen didn't dare speak out or move closer to Yi Bai for guidance.

Instead, he silently attempted to mouth a question, hoping for a response.

But Yi Bai ignored him entirely.

"I get it!" Suddenly, Ye Qun, one of the veteran players, whispered, his voice filled with urgency. "It's the song! I thought they were singing it wrong at first, but after hearing it again, I realized!"

"What's wrong with the song?" Liu Zhen asked, trying to stay calm despite the chaos.

Ye Qun's voice trembled. "The song they keep singing... it's 'Pass the Handkerchief'! But it's not just passing... it's cut off the arm! Every round, someone has to sacrifice an arm to start the game!"

Ye Qun had quickly pieced together the horrific truth. The song was a twisted version of the game they were playing. They would lose a limb each round, or worse—become food for the ghost children.

The ghost children were too engrossed in their feast to notice the murmurs between the players. Or perhaps, once the rules were discovered by the humans, it only made the game more interesting for them...

Minutes later, the selected player's body had been completely devoured—no bones, no flesh, just an empty space where he had been. The fat ghost child, licking blood from its lips, looked around at the remaining players.

"Game... continues!" it cackled, its mouth dripping with the remains of the last victim.