Chapter 71: The Vexing Inspector

"Hey, hey, don’t just stand there—it's mealtime."
Chen Fan curled his fingers into a delicate gesture, conjuring a ball of flame at his fingertips as he sauntered over, saying, "Big brother, surprised? Unexpected? How about a little tip, or an extra dish for dinner? I promise there’s even more excitement to come."
"Oh."
Instead of receiving a coin, Chen Fan got a bucket of cold water.
"Achoo!" Chen Fan shivered with a sneeze.
"No playing with fire in the cell. Here’s your food," the jailer said as he handed in the meal, but before Chen Fan could reach for it, the man withdrew his hand entirely.
"Hey, what are you doing?"
Chen Fan stumbled but managed to catch the bowl midair. At least the food wasn’t spoiled this time, just a little burnt, with a hefty chunk of charred rice stuck to the bottom.
"Do I have to eat this?" Chen Fan thought about making trouble again.
"Care to repeat that?" the jailer asked with a menacing smile.
"I—eeee..."
Before Chen Fan could get the word "no" out, the jailer pressed the bowl against his own face, as if he were donning an oxygen mask.
"Still making demands when you’re as good as dead." The jailer glared at Chen Fan and slammed the iron bars shut.
"Damn, was the carpenter supposed to be a seer or a hunter?" Chen Fan suddenly realized he hadn’t even figured out the basic roles.
"Hey, big brother, do you know what the suspects locked up here used to do?" Chen Fan knocked repeatedly on the thick iron door, trying to draw the jailer’s attention.
The jailer returned, snarling, "One’s a fortune-teller, one’s a charlatan shaman, one’s a carpenter, maybe one was with the bodyguards, the rest are just townsfolk, I think. Get some sleep, stop fussing. There's questioning tomorrow."
"What the hell does a carpenter have to do with anything?" Chen Fan sat on his pile of straw. If he matched the roles, the carpenter should be the hunter, but he couldn’t see the connection no matter how he tried.
Another jailer barked from outside, "Hey, why are you still sleeping? The inspector’s holding court. Come with me."
"I haven’t even closed my eyes and now you’re blaming me?" Chen Fan grumbled out of habit, obediently allowing himself to be dragged out.
"Tsk tsk, look at that—the food’s improved and no one died today. That’s progress, deserves applause," the inspector said, counting the suspects and finding none missing. He clapped enthusiastically, setting the tone for celebration.
Chen Fan had nothing to say; he just wanted the game to end quickly.
"Player One surrenders. Good luck, everyone." Before Chen Fan could react, Player One bit his tongue and ended his own life.

"That’s enough for today. It hasn’t been easy for you suspects, kneeling all day. I’ll give you one more night to think things over. Take them back."
With a wave, the constables hoisted Chen Fan up again, dragging him back the way he’d come, the marks on the ground still fresh.
"Well, two wolves down. Player Nine should be out next. The witch and the guard are still here—it’s not too tough," Chen Fan mused, recalling the courtroom’s events. There were precious few clues; he’d have to wait for the third day.
"Hey, dinner time."
Chen Fan couldn’t be bothered to resist and rose to get his bowl.
"Hey, why are you still eating? The inspector’s holding court—move it."
He barely managed a mouthful before the constable hauled him to the hall—at least this time, they didn’t drag him.
"My, my, you need to keep a closer eye on these suspects’ diets. Why did two die today?" The inspector’s expression was melodramatic as he grilled his deputy, not giving him a chance to answer. "Tell me, why did two die? Both choked?"
Chen Fan didn’t want to argue with an NPC. In fact, he felt like laughing out loud.
The victims were Players Seven and Nine. As Nine lay dying, he shouted, "I told you I’m a sharpshooter at biu~biu~biu and you still killed me! Watch as I use my ancestral wooden firearm to judge you all!"
With that, Nine shakily drew a wooden Mauser pistol from his jacket and started whacking away at Player Two.
"What? Is he trying to shoot? Or...?" Chen Fan nearly yelled in disbelief.
The wooden Mauser spun gracefully through the air and struck Player Two square on the head. She collapsed instantly.
"This is just..."
Chen Fan almost coughed up blood. This hunter’s shooting mechanic was truly...
"Huh? What happened?" The inspector was so stunned he hurried over, crouched beside Player Two, and held a hand under her nose. He quickly jerked back. "Well, I’ll be, killed by a wooden gun."
Three dead in a day—Chen Fan couldn’t have been happier; he was one step closer to escaping this hell.
Now, two special roles and two wolves were dead. Two and Seven’s identities remained unknown, so there were four possible scenarios. It was hard to judge, but at least he could trust Player Ten.
"Player Twelve, your statement."
"I don’t even know Player Eleven. He’s framing me. I’m just a villager. We should follow the sheriff’s lead this round. Pass."
"Player Three speaks. I’m the guard. First round I protected myself, second round I guarded Ten, third round myself again. I think there’s one wolf left. If the witch is alive, reveal the kill pattern. Today, it’s between Four and Five, we have two more days."
"Finally, someone’s taking things seriously. I’m touched," Chen Fan thought.
"Player Four. I’m a plain villager, can’t claim a role, but I disagree with your logic about Six and Twelve. Let me explain my reasoning."
Player Four spoke feverishly, almost out of breath, even pausing mid-way to collect herself.
"Six could be a wolf sent by their team as a reverse tactic, not knowing Eight was the seer. Putting Six out there could be a bait or a charge. As for Twelve, Eleven might be using reverse psychology to clear Twelve of suspicion."
"Now the seer is dead; no one can clearly define anyone’s role. Three, why are you insisting Four and Five are the suspects? I want to hear everyone this round—anyone who can’t claim a role is on my suspect list."
Chen Fan leaned back, listening patiently to Four’s impassioned speech. If it weren’t for the game, he would have welcomed a quick execution just to end it all.
"Player Five. I agree with Four. I’m a villager, an outstanding citizen. I think Twelve is highly suspicious—I’m voting for Twelve."
Five’s speech was purely emotional; Chen Fan found nothing of value.
"Ahem, Player Six here." Chen Fan coughed twice, masking his lack of confidence. With so little to go on, a wrong move could spell disaster.
"Three is the guard, Ten is confirmed, Four’s speech was solid, seems trustworthy. Given I’m a good role, Five is following Four, Twelve’s speech was evasive. This round it’s between Five and Twelve."
Chen Fan calculated—the worst case was two wolves left, meaning Five and Twelve were both wolves. Judging by their states, the wolf was among them.
"Four’s analysis was good, but there’s room for error. Since the inspector slapped me for not stepping forward, let me argue my case tomorrow. Today, it’s between Five and Twelve; sheriff, it’s up to you."
Ten—Kang Jixuan—glanced around, raised a brow. "Nothing to debate; let’s take it step by step. Vote out Twelve, then decide by the kill pattern tonight. Guard, do your job."
Chen Fan abstained, Five and Ten voted for Twelve, Three and Twelve voted for Five.
That meant, like him, Four abstained and could be spared.
"A villager is gone, framed and taken out. See you at the shooting range," Player Twelve called, waving as he was dragged off to the firing squad.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
This time, the gunshots were followed by a choking smell of gunpowder drifting in.
Annoyed, the inspector snapped, "You lot, so stubborn—no dinner for anyone tonight! No more deaths by choking, one day without food won’t kill you. Tomorrow, we better have a result."
P.S. Now recruiting extras—the slots for player numbers are wide open.