Is it over?

This time, the silence lasted for several minutes as everyone struggled to accept this unbelievable reality.

After a brief pause, Officer Li was the first to flip over his identity card. Sure enough, it read "Liar."

One by one, the others revealed their own cards—every single one of them was a "Liar."

"You're impressive…" Lawyer Zhang cast an approving glance at Qi Xia. "But how did you realize that we were all already dead?"

Qi Xia pointed at his draft paper and said, "It wasn't that hard. I've been wondering—why is this room completely sealed? Why are there lines drawn on the walls and floor? Why is there a clock placed at the center of the table? And most importantly, why did the Goat-Headed Man force us to take an 'intermission'?"

"A normal person consumes about 0.007 cubic meters of air per minute, which adds up to 0.42 cubic meters per hour. There are ten of us in this room, meaning our total oxygen consumption per hour would be 4.2 cubic meters."

"According to the Goat-Headed Man, we not only 'slept' in this room for 12 hours but have also been playing this game for nearly an hour. If we multiply 4.2 cubic meters by 13, we get '54.6.'"

Qi Xia circled the number "54.6" on his draft paper with his pen and said, "This is the amount of air we should have consumed."

He then glanced around the room and continued, "But how many cubic meters does this room actually contain?"

Everyone followed his gaze, scanning their surroundings.

"The organizers left us clues. They drew lines on the walls and floor, dividing them into multiple squares. Each square has a side length of approximately one meter." Qi Xia pointed at the markings on the wall. "The number of squares on the walls is 3×4, and on the floor and ceiling, it's 4×4. That means the room's dimensions are 4×4×3, totaling 48 cubic meters."

"Now tell me, how can a 48-cubic-meter room hold 54.6 cubic meters of air?" Qi Xia furrowed his brows, his expression darkening. "After all this time, the air should be getting thinner, but we aren't experiencing any signs of oxygen deprivation…"

Dr. Zhao pondered for a moment, then took Qi Xia's draft paper and pointed to the number "49.14," asking, "What does this number mean?"

Qi Xia looked at Dr. Zhao with a serious expression and replied, "This is also the required air consumption, but it's calculated for 'nine people' instead."

"Nine people?"

Dr. Zhao was taken aback, as there were clearly ten people in the room consuming air, yet Qi Xia had calculated for nine.

Qi Xia maintained a blank expression and said, "I made a bold assumption. If the Goat-Headed Man is 'not human,' would our available air be enough? The answer is obviously still no."

"What kind of lunatic are you?" Dr. Zhao murmured. "How could you make such a bizarre assumption?"

"Is it so hard to understand?" Qi Xia pointed to the headless corpse to his right. "Dr. Zhao, you should be very familiar with skulls. Under normal circumstances, can a human crush a skull with just one hand?"

Dr. Zhao did not answer, because he knew it was completely impossible.

Not to mention a human skull—even crushing a rabbit's skull with one hand on a table would not be an easy task.

Qi Xia withdrew his gaze, looked at the others, and said, "Time is running out. I have already written down my choice. Now, it's up to you. But remember, if even one person's answer is different from mine, everyone here will be 'punished'."

The others hesitated.

A creature capable of killing at will—

And now, they had to "vote it out."

Would it accept that?

Qiao Jiajin glanced at the Goat-Headed Man from the corner of his eye, noticing that it remained motionless. Its deep gaze pierced through the goat mask, lost in some unknown thought.

"Damn it, let's just go for it!" Qiao Jiajin waved his large hand and wrote down the two characters: "Ren Yang" (Goat-Man).

The others hesitated for a moment but followed suit, each writing down the same answer.

Qi Xia looked around.

Without exception—

Every answer read "Ren Yang."

The clock struck 1:00.

The game was over.

The Goat-Headed Man slowly stepped forward and said, "Congratulations, everyone. You have survived the 'Liar' game. Now, I will personally carry out the 'punishment' on the loser."

Before anyone could react, the Goat-Headed Man pulled a handgun from his coat, turned the barrel toward his own heart, and pulled the trigger without hesitation.

A deafening gunshot echoed through the narrow room.

In such a confined space, the sound had nowhere to dissipate, leaving everyone with a ringing in their ears.

Then, the Goat-Headed Man clutched his chest and began to scream.

The sheer intensity of his cries quickly drowned out the gunshot's echo, reverberating through the room and sending chills down everyone's spine.

He continued screaming, blood spilling from his mouth. The horrifying wails lasted for over a minute before finally subsiding into pained groans.

"Wh-what the hell…" Qiao Jiajin stared at the Goat-Headed Man in shock. "Is he actually serious?"

A few more minutes passed, and even the muffled groans faded into silence.

The nine people in the room suddenly realized that they could move their legs again.

Dr. Zhao was the first to stand up. He walked over to the Goat-Headed Man, reached out, and checked for a pulse at his neck—nothing.

"Hey!" Dr. Zhao shouted at the lifeless body. "The game is over! How do we get out?!"

But a silent corpse could offer no answers.

The others slowly stood up as well.

The room remained unchanged, except for the addition of a corpse.

"This is so weird… Are we really dead?" Tiantian still seemed hung up on the question. She stretched out her delicate hand and slapped herself—hard.

"Ouch!" she yelped. "It still hurts! Why can I still feel pain if I'm dead?"

Qiao Jiajin shook his head helplessly. "What, have you died before?"

"I…" Tiantian hesitated for a moment. "I don't think so…?"

"Exactly. So who knows what it feels like to be dead?" Qiao Jiajin glanced around the room, uneasy at the sight of two dead bodies. "For all we know, this place might be hell."

He wrinkled his nose. "I can still feel pain, and I can also smell something awful."

"So what are we? Spirits?" Writer Han Yimo asked.

Hearing this, Dr. Zhao checked his own body. His heartbeat, body temperature, and pulse were all normal—he was even breathing. Yet, somehow, they weren't consuming oxygen.

Death was truly a mystery, beyond any medical explanation.

"Whatever we are, I refuse to be trapped in this tiny room for the rest of my days," Officer Li said. "Let's find a way out."

He walked over to the Goat-Headed Man and picked up the gun lying beside him.

This action startled everyone, causing them to instinctively back away.

Officer Li expertly pulled back the slide, checked the chamber, then ejected the magazine. He found that the gun had contained only a single bullet—now spent.

This was both good news and bad news.

The good news: they didn't have to worry about anyone using the gun to hurt someone else.

The bad news: if they encountered any other danger, they had no way to defend themselves.

Qiao Jiajin, ever the bold one, reached out and slowly removed the Goat-Headed Man's mask.

Underneath, they found the rotting face of a man.

His eyes had rolled back, and there was no sign of life.

"What a horrible face..."

Lawyers Zhang echoed.