The Third Victim

“Allow me to formally introduce an old friend to you all.”

Lynch closed his eyes, the experiences of the past few days flashing through his mind like running water. Reorganizing his thoughts, the corners of his mouth curled up as he realized this farce of the past few days should come to an end. He pointed his round fan at the entrance they had come from and said loudly:

“The person who left that footprint by the deep pool ahead of time for me to find is none other than Mr. Salin, who has returned from the dead. Actually, he is still alive. Don't believe me? Then please don't blink. Up next is the moment to witness a miracle. In three seconds, he will push open the door, walk in, and personally explain the truth of everything to everyone.”

Some looked at the entrance in bewilderment, while others looked at him as if he were a madman. But Lynch ignored them all, pointing at the doorway with supreme confidence as he loudly counted down.

“Three, two...”

Holding their breath, they listened quietly. Even Judy's blank gaze secretly drifted over.

“One.”

As the final second of the countdown ended, the main tomb chamber fell into a dead silence. The door at the entrance remained tightly shut, with no sign of opening at all.

Whoosh. Everyone's eyes snapped back to Lynch. The furious glares of the crowd, practically spitting fire, made their feelings and immediate desires abundantly clear.

Lynch, however, ignored them completely. He merely covered his mouth with his round fan, laughing so hard he doubled over.

Then, just as the tension reached a boiling point, his laughter stopped abruptly. His expression returned to its usual gloomy and mysterious self. “A very interesting game. Before, it was just a guess, but now I can finally be sure. Hehe, Salin isn't like the doctor, whose body was completely obliterated. He had a corpse. But in truth, none of you actually performed an autopsy yourself. Only Dr. Jenna took a brief, rather careless look. Am I right, everyone?”

The men exchanged glances and nodded subconsciously. After all, they had seen plenty of dead bodies, and none of them would actually perform a proper autopsy. Inspecting it themselves would just be a waste of time. Besides, none of them were close to Salin, so no one had the inclination.

“In fact, the only one who truly examined the corpse was me, using my ability. But limited by my ability, I only saw a blurry figure. I could only confirm that it was indeed a corpse, but not who it was. Therefore, all of us subconsciously harbored doubts about Salin's death. This is why that scene just now occurred—none of us were certain if Salin was truly dead, and we couldn't rule out the possibility of him opening the door and walking in. So... you all stared intently at the door, even Lady Judy here.”

Huh? Why does it feel like someone is glaring at me? And the temperature has risen again? Whatever, I'll ignore it.

Being stared at by everyone only fueled Lynch's theatrical side, bringing him a surge of performative pleasure. He said enthusiastically, “Only one person wouldn't stare at the door, because he didn't believe Salin would appear at all. What identity do you think this person has?”

“The killer?” someone asked subconsciously.

“No, quite the contrary. With so many bizarre abilities in this world, who knows if someone might fake their death or even resurrect? The killer would actually be the most uncertain in their heart, so they should be the one staring the hardest. The only person who could be absolutely certain is Mr. Salin himself.”

A sinister smile played on those beautiful lips, and the gaze Lynch hid behind his round fan was as sharp as a blade.

“So... Mr. Jack Adams, I am very sorry, but I have seen through your trick.”

The bearded man's expression stiffened, and he subconsciously took a step back.

“Could you please explain? Was my magic trick just now not entertaining enough? Or is it because I am too beautiful? Why have your eyes been on me this entire time instead of staring at the door like the three of them?”

“A dead man is a dead man. Your magic trick is just a joke.”

“Heh, a joke is a joke, as long as someone likes it. It doesn't matter if you don't admit it; I've already deduced most of the truth anyway,” Lynch said softly. “The person who died last night wasn't you, but another victim. I found it strange—you only suffered some superficial injuries and fled faster than anyone, so how could you have died right after? Just now, as I was analyzing it deeply, it suddenly clicked. Last night, there was someone whose injuries were heavier than yours: that rat.”

Jack's expression shifted as he stared intently at Lynch.

“A rat is obviously not a human, but it shares a telepathic connection with Jack. Glaaki's influence must have acted directly on Jack through the link between the rat and him. This is one possibility, and I believe it is the most reasonable explanation for why one of the seven of us had to die last night.”

Seeing the others nod in contemplation, Lynch smiled and continued:

“And you, Mr. Salin, used some unknown ability to not only disguise yourself as him but even mimic his abilities to some degree of similarity. No wonder you can play any role so perfectly; it turns out you rely on this kind of ability. Then you disguised Jack to look like you, using the convenience of keeping your distance from the others over the past few days to deceive everyone. I strongly suspect that you secretly started making trouble on the very first day of your arrival just so you could use Glaaki to get rid of someone first, thereby securing an identity for yourself to pull strings from the shadows.”

“A wonderful story, but it's entirely speculation,” Jack sneered, not panicked at all. “You think you can accuse someone just by spouting a few words? Don't forget, the one who has a problem right now is you.”

“Heh, I didn't think these few words would win everyone over. Actually, you not looking at the door only confirmed my hypothesis; I suspected you for another reason.” Lynch smiled craftily and explained, “What aroused my suspicion was your performance, Mr. Salin. Do you really know what the 'secret' in 'secret agent' means?”

Jack froze, looking at Lynch in confusion.

“I've read some stories about secret agents and have some understanding of them. Perhaps their identities can be exposed, but they must never casually reveal their missions to the outside world, at least not from their own mouths. Anyone lacking this level of confidentiality wouldn't survive the first act.” Lynch grinned. “But without even thinking, you easily exposed Mr. Jack Adams's mission. I'm afraid this was information absorbed by Glaaki when Jack was converted into a servant of Glaaki, and you learned it from it. Too bad you didn't know the habits of secret agents and easily let it slip to me. I felt something was off at the time. You were far too quick to spill your guts; it didn't look like a secret agent at all. It was from that moment on that I grew wary of you.”

“If you play the game, you have to accept when you lose. Struggling desperately will only make your end look more pathetic.” Seeing Salin's stiff face as he tried to struggle, Lynch shook his head gently. “Actually, our current problem is that everyone is harboring secrets in their hearts that they dare not expose, so our mutual suspicion only deepens. This is precisely the breeding ground that allows you to keep making trouble. But as long as someone dares to ask and someone dares to answer, then the truth is no longer a secret.”

Lynch suddenly pointed at Rooney. “First, why did you launch a lethal attack at me just now? Didn't Mr. Jones tell you that the colorful light from the Ocean Currents in a Dream represented us?”

“I said so at the time—I felt a strong aura of a Flame Spirit. That is the spawn of an evil god, and it must be eliminated.”

“Heh, you indeed gave a reason. But what Mr. Jack told me was that Mr. Jones had said the person coming was me, yet you still launched a lethal attack.” Lynch shrugged and asked directly, “What we lacked was exactly this kind of straightforward Q&A. Now tell me, why did you bring Judy here alone?”

“To eliminate the cultist. The Flame Spirit already revealed her identity.”

“Then what about me? Why did you agree to let me follow along too?”

“You are a cultist too.”

“I wasn't carrying a Flame Spirit. How did you know? And just found out, at that.”

Whoosh. Rooney's gaze subconsciously snapped toward Jack.

“So you see, the truth is slowly surfacing.” Lynch smiled at Jack, then turned to Karl and asked, “I have a question for you too. How did you know someone wanted to kill everyone? And why did you pull me aside to tell me?”

“The doctor told me in private before we set out, and she even said she planned to bring you over. I had my doubts at first, but after the doctor met with her accident, I had no choice but to believe it.”

“Then why did you suddenly change your mind and plan to use this footprint to set an ambush for me? Don't you think your behavior is contradictory?”

“Huh? I didn't, that wasn't me,” Karl Jones explained immediately. “Rooney hates cultists, and something might have happened with you two together. So I spied on this place with Jack, and then we saw you acting suspiciously by the footprint.”

“Did you think of this yourself?”

“Of course.” Karl suddenly froze, saying in a slightly dazed manner, “It was Jack who brought up the cultist, which made me want to follow and look... Jack, are you really Salin?”

“Hehe, then I understand,” Lynch said thoughtfully. “Mr. Salin, did the doctor also realize your existence, which is why you laid hands on her, and then discovered she had spoken to me, so you chose me as your second target?”

“Hmph, Jenna wasn't my... Hiss, I understand, so it was you...”

By the deep pool, the Salin-version of Jack's face suddenly twisted in sudden realization. However, at that exact moment, dense white spikes suddenly shot out from the deep pool, leaving over a hundred puncture wounds on his body.

Glaaki had appeared once more.