There's definitely something wrong with this murder mystery game

Chapter 109: Chapter 105 "Green-Faced Fangs

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After finishing his next script and casually browsing the forum, Xu Shuo left the Script Space.

The rental room was pitch-dark, except for some street lights casting their glow through the tightly shut balcony, faintly illuminating the empty space.

Feeling a hollow sense of hunger, Xu Shuo sat for a while before getting up and heading to the kitchen, taking out some cabbage from the fridge, and leisurely preparing his belated dinner.

After dinner, he returned to his room and turned on his laptop to continue working. At ten o'clock sharp, his phone chimed with a new message notification.

Xu Xi had sent a "Good night"; Xu Shuo quickly tapped a shortcut reply and then continued looking at his computer.

The two of them didn't interact much usually. After all, one was studying in school while the other was busy with work. Their messages were mostly terse greetings and a string of "Good night" texts sent at different times, serving to confirm that the other was still alive.

...

The next morning.

Xu Shuo arrived at the studio early, full of energy to start work. His dark circles had faded significantly, showing that he had recuperated well.

After eating fast food for lunch, Xu Shuo checked the time, then moved the files off his desk and found a slightly less awkward position to lie down for a nap.

The countdown on the Player's Handbook had ended after forty-eight hours. This time, he'd initiate it himself.

Otherwise, if he were to faint while working, he might wake up in a hospital.

Xu Shuo clicked on the "Enter Game" icon, and quickly, his consciousness began to sink down as if plunging into the pitch-black depths of the Deep Sea.

This time he didn't suddenly appear in the Script World, but in an absolute darkness where he couldn't see his hand before him.

[Your mentor "Hong Rao" has selected the game script "Green-Faced Fangs" for you. Would you like to enter?]

The only source of light in front of him was a semi-transparent blue panel.

Xu Shuo looked down at it, but even with the light, he couldn't see his hands, and reaching out to feel for his body, he touched nothing, as if only his consciousness existed.

Then, Xu Shuo chose "Enter" over "Random" in the system options.

...

"Green-Faced Fangs"

In a village hidden among the mountains, ancient monster legends are passed down. At night, the "Green-Faced Fangs" haunt the fields alongside the trickling waters, mercilessly reaping the lives of night walkers, leaving in everyone's hearts a hideous and fearsome visage.

Once you step into the realm of the Abyss, countless people will forge this legend. Can you free yourself from the ghosts within your heart?

[Main Quest: Capture the Green-Faced Fangs.]

Xu Shuo opened his eyes and first surveyed his surroundings.

He was in a spacious room, but the white walls had yellowed and cracked with peeling plaster near the floor, exposing the grey cement inside.

The floor of the house was also made of cement, slightly uneven, but firm underfoot.

Xu Shuo got up and walked around, looking at the bed he had just been sitting on—a common wooden plank bed found in rural areas. The other furniture in the room also had this retro vibe.

It felt like... a throwback to the 70s or 80s.

Such furnishings might still be considered quite affluent in the countryside, right?

Xu Shuo opened the character panel; his current identity was the son of the Qingliu Village chief, already in his thirties and still a bachelor. However, since the Old Village Chief had disappeared a long time ago, he was now in the position of the Acting Village Chief.

After reviewing the character information, Xu Shuo was taken aback. He walked over to the table, picked up the red-framed mirror with a pretty woman's image on the back, and looked at his current appearance.

Weathered skin, deep-set eyes, and a scruffy beard—he looked unmistakably like a bad guy!

Was this really how he looked in his thirties?

Xu Shuo touched his rather rough face, noticing the distinct similarity in the brows and eyes reflected in the mirror, and suddenly found it somewhat amusing.

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But then again, it's not like we live on looks alone.

Xu Shuo set down the mirror, fumbled around the house for a bit but to no avail, and then turned to head outside.

It was noon, the sunlight was just right, and the terrain of the Village Chief's House was slightly elevated, allowing a view that encompassed half of the village at a glance.

The village was bordered by mountains on three sides, and a small river flowed down from the mountains, nearly cutting through the entire village. Sunlight sprinkled down, not far from the lush trees, and below the mountains lay neatly arranged fields.

Curling wisps of cooking smoke twined above the village, and the air carried the especially refreshing scent of the forest and wilderness along with the most basic aroma of rice.

He had just finished lunch, was he here to eat again?

After a brief look at the scenic village, Xu Shuo lifted his foot and walked down towards the base of the mountain.

Being midday, there weren't many people working in the fields.

The main road of the village wasn't the muddy dirt path kind but one where the ground had been compacted with concrete. Although somewhat uneven, it was exceptionally firm and steady underfoot.

The houses of each household, though mostly still red-brick tile houses, included quite a few newly built white-walled bungalows. Even within the village, there was a well-developed countryside supermarket and farm stays.

It seemed to be a village that was developing quite well.

And all this was due to that thriving "legend."

Qingliu Village had a ghostly legend of "Green-Faced Fangs," which, because of its particularly sensational nature – and because the village had a nice environment – attracted many tourists from outside to come for vacations.

Besides, the legend's stature has been intensifying lately, so much so that it's touted as almost real outside, drawing even larger crowds of young people to come and spend their money.

The village developed from such tourism.

...

At this time, a white sedan drove on the road outside the village, bumping along until it stopped at the entrance to Qingliu Village.

Two people got out of the car.

It was April, and a woman in a long-sleeve shirt with a vest jacket, carrying a black backpack, stood roadside in a businesslike manner and stretched, gazing at the pastoral scene ahead.

The other person who stepped out was a tall, thin man in a gray trench coat, wearing glasses and looking quite refined.

"Let's get something straight, don't interfere with my business," said the man, his face showing some impatience as he looked at the Archway at the entrance of Qingliu Village with an enigmatic gaze.

"Alright already, thanks for the lift!"

The woman cheerfully slapped his shoulder, then took out a camera from her backpack and confidently walked ahead into the village.

It seemed the two were not together but had just met on the way.

The main road at the village's entrance was long, with fields on the left and mountains on the right, and below the mountain wall was a long stretch of wall coated with white paint.

About two meters high, the wall was decorated with abstract figures and various landscape paintings in dazzling colors, like the creative street art found in cities.

The wall, spanning over twenty meters, still had an unfinished end.

A young girl in a floral dress stood there with paint and a brush in hand, yet not making a single stroke, her whole being exuding a sense of bewilderment.

Then, as if sensing someone approaching, the girl turned her head to see the woman approaching.

"Yo, is this the wall filled with the village's legends?" The woman spoke as she raised her camera to take a picture, then casually asked, "Are you the one painting all this?"

"I painted it," the girl blurted out.

After saying that, she squinted slightly to size up the woman with a strange aura. Then she turned her head again to look at the man in the trench coat who was also approaching.

Had the story already begun?