Chapter 15: An Inspirational Fairy Tale

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Their guesses aligned closely with Zhou Ke’s. After others took turns answering the phone, they asked questions like “How to escape?” and “Are the check-in instructions true or false?” But all they received were refusals to disclose information and the landlord’s mocking sneers.

Linghu Shiyu gleaned some insight from Zhou Ke’s words and actions and requested “to provide lunch.” The landlord willingly agreed: “That’s possible, but lunch is not free; tenants must pay an additional fee.”

Though the exact extra cost was unstated, everyone knew merchants never made unprofitable deals. The price for lunch would surely far exceed its actual value—perhaps an arm, perhaps a leg, or several hundred milliliters of blood. No one dared to test it.

The conversation soon lost its meaning, and three minutes passed in the blink of an eye.

Once the call ended, a “ding” echoed from the hallway, causing everyone’s hearts to race, fearing a surprise attack from the doorbell ghost.

“That sound is much shorter, not like a doorbell. More like the elevator arriving,” Zhou Ke said naturally. He pocketed a folding spring knife he had found on the body of the man with glasses and rose to head out.

Seeing this, the rest nervously mustered courage and followed closely behind.

They quickly arrived at the stairwell around the corridor’s bend, where the doorbell ghost had left—presumably also their route to other floors.

Yet beneath the iron handrail was a solid concrete wall.

Strangely, festive couplets and an upside-down “Fu” character were pasted onto the wall.

The couplets on either side bore common blessings, and the horizontal scroll above read simply “Safe Come and Go.”

By tradition in Central Plains, these decorations should be on doors, but here was only cold, bare concrete with no openings.

What once appeared as ordinary cultural embellishments now gave off an indescribable eeriness against the mottled cement.

“Thump.”

Everyone present was from Central Plains, and many felt a chill in their hearts.

They noticed several white plastic bags at the last step of the stairwell—something they had never seen before.

If their guess was right, those were their breakfasts.

“The delivery’s pretty fast. Professionalism like this deserves five stars,” Zhou Ke muttered with deadpan eyes.

“Yeah, if my takeout at home was this quick, I’d probably have been seventy percent full before coming here,” another replied.

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Li Hua looked regretful and instinctively tried to go downstairs but was stopped by Zhou Ke.

Shaking his head and giving a meaningful glance, Zhou Ke’s caution and years of gaming experience told him that stepping onto the last stair usually triggered a trap.

In fact, everyone but Li Hua more or less felt the same.

Their eyes exchanged silently before settling on Louis and Chen Minqun—those who had done the least so far.

Chen Minqun remained silent and cowered like a quail.

“Facing danger head-on is also cool,” Louis volunteered, uttering a cliché so corny even Zhou Ke didn’t bother responding. Then, with a flamboyant stride, he brought up the plastic bags surprisingly smoothly.

Perhaps even the monsters found this queer man a bit nauseating and hard to swallow.

There were six breakfasts in total, confirming the harsh reality that there were only six tenants.

The fare was simple and stingy: a bland boiled egg, a box of milk, and a sandwich—typical of a frugal school cafeteria aimed at middle schoolers.

But in their desperate situation, they dared not complain.

For those going almost two full days without food or water, these counted as delicacies.

They devoured their portions ravenously and split the remaining one evenly. By then, dusk was near.

They had to leave the fragile safety of the group again, returning to their rooms alone with anxious hearts, awaiting the next knock on the door.

“Zhou Ke, wait a moment. I have something to say,” a female voice called out just as Zhou Ke was about to return to his room, straw in mouth.

He turned, feigning confusion as he looked at the sharp, gallant woman wearing pure black knee-high boots. “What is it, Lady Linghu?”

Linghu Shiyu felt a pang of discomfort at the awkward nickname. Apparently, since she never corrected him, he had the audacity to keep calling her that.

She sighed and spoke earnestly: “Although I think your strategy of communicating with the landlord on the phone was correct, I hope you’ll share your thoughts and participate in team votes before acting next time.”

“We are a whole. Arbitrary decisions are harmful. Only through honest cooperation, leaving the ‘mole’ no place to hide, can we hope to escape.”

“Do you think I care about your opinions?”

“What?” Linghu Shiyu had been scanning the surroundings to prevent eavesdropping but suddenly caught that cold, magnetic voice like the depths of the ocean.

Startled, she turned and saw Zhou Ke’s immaculate smile, which shifted her shock into puzzlement. “Did you just say something?”

“Ah, nothing. I acted on my own because I couldn’t bear to see everyone starve,” Zhou Ke said, still smiling.

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“Lady Linghu, you’re right. We must unite—unity is strength, unity is pow—er~.” Mid-conversation, he actually broke into song.

His grand, resonant voice immediately drew everyone’s attention.

Their looks ranged from “Is this guy crazy?” to “Did he forget his medicine?”

“Seems like everyone agrees with my point,” Zhou Ke said, skillfully ignoring their strange expressions. Then, inspired, he added, “Before we part, let me tell you a fairy tale about unity and friendship to boost our cohesion.”

Most had no desire to humor Zhou Ke’s bizarre logic or engage in his nonsense.

Unfortunately, he gave no chance for rebuttal and declared with conviction:

“Then, as the story goes on.”

That first sentence was already full of plot holes—they had never heard a ‘previous part.’

“The shepherd, driven out of Sheep Village, nursed a grudge and swore a deadly oath: if he failed to conquer Sheep Village within three years, he would add another three years.”

The shepherd seemed rather unscrupulous, everyone thought.

“So, he diligently studied alchemy and created three alchemical wolves.”

“The first wolf, at the cost of the shepherd’s heart, lungs, kidneys, liver, and spleen being removed, gained miraculous agility and nearly invincible resilience.”

Was this really a fairy tale for children? Kids would cry! They’d have nightmares of a zombie with hollowed-out organs!

Zhou Ke ignored their twisted expressions and continued: “Because its fur was dark gray and its body huge, it was named—the Great Gray Wolf.”

Sure enough, that name would be accused of plagiarism. Not afraid it might scare children once published.

“The Great Gray Wolf attacked Sheep Village, initially achieving great success and catching the village off guard.

“But as the battle dragged on and Sheep Village formed a sheep army, through many back-and-forth fights, the wolf’s two paws could not defeat many hooves and was ultimately defeated.”

“This fairy tale teaches us—unity is strength!”

So Sheep Village was really the protagonist! Then why waste so many words describing the shepherd?

After hearing the story, everyone felt a mix of emotions and wore grim faces.

It was like eating a carefully prepared but unwashed dish of nine-times-cooked intestines. And when you ask the chef if the ingredients were unwashed, he calmly replies, “No, I’m just cooking shit. The intestines are just a disguise.”