The moment her voice fell, those dark red veins, like waking vipers, violently coiled around the middle-aged man's body and tightened deeply!
The man didn't even have time to let out a full scream before his body emitted a teeth-gritting sound of shattering bones under the constriction of the veins, instantly going limp and following in the footsteps of the first player.
Inside the box, the dark red veins retreated with satisfaction, leaving behind only another corpse that still held a lingering warmth.
The Puppeteer didn't even bother to take a second look.
She shifted her gaze calmly toward the third VIP box.
This time, before her fingers could even lift, a slightly husky female voice came from behind the box's one-way glass: "No need for verification, Director."
The glass slowly became transparent, revealing a woman inside wearing a deep purple gown, her expression cold and sharp.
She looked to be in her thirties, well-maintained, with a calm temperament, yet her eyes were piercing.
Cheng Shuili felt a bit puzzled; it was common knowledge that gowns were not convenient for movement.
Because of this, among those who had struggled to survive until now, very few were still willing to wear a gown just for a bit of beauty.
But for this person to participate in a full-server dungeon and remain so calm, she certainly wouldn't be someone who lacked perspective. To dare to dress like this, she must have strength.
The woman's tone was certain, carrying a sense of rightful composure: "I entered through the main gate; that is beyond doubt."
She simply stated it, not even offering any evidence.
Seeming to fear that The Puppeteer might not believe her, she paused and looked straight at The Puppeteer, saying: "If you suspect I did not enter through the front door, please feel free to check. I accept any legitimate inspection, but I refuse pointless torture."
Cheng Shuili stared at the woman for a while. If The Puppeteer were truly a human, or if The Puppeteer had no way to judge truth from falsehood, perhaps the woman's method would have worked.
But now, as long as a player had the mark on them, The Puppeteer could determine they had come from the corridor.
Furthermore, since Cheng Shuili had been in the corridor when she first entered the dungeon, she could fully assume that the first scene for every player entering the dungeon was the corridor.
In other words, although the player in the third box spoke with such conviction, it was actually just a lie.
The Puppeteer's hollow eyes lingered on her face for a long time.
A moment later, The Puppeteer nodded. "You are very confident, but verification is necessary. You had better pray that you are not deceiving me, otherwise..."
She pulled a smile, and the threat was palpable.
From this distance, even Cheng Shuili could see the effort it took.
It seems this creature's face is not real either.
As The Puppeteer's voice fell, her pale fingers once again traced a trajectory of pulling in the air.
Inside the third box, the dark red veins emerged as expected, but they spread slowly, brushing gently over the surface of the woman's body, especially her ankles.
This was precisely where that Something Unspeakable had coiled around Cheng Shuili back in the corridor.
Seeing this, Cheng Shuili finally confirmed that her guess was correct. She relaxed slightly, her straight back leaning back against the chair.
Inside the box, the woman's body tensed, but her expression remained unchanged as she calmly endured this uncomfortable inspection.
The veins wandered over her body for a few seconds, and then, just like with the lying man in the second box, the dark red veins tightened abruptly! Like pythons hunting for prey, they carried a cold, murderous intent, strangling the woman's slender neck and limbs.
The woman's cold face instantly flushed red from suffocation, her eyes widening, filled with unbelievable horror.
"No... no... I really am..."
She struggled in vain, squeezing broken syllables from her throat, her hands attempting to tear at the invisible restraints, only causing the dark red veins to tighten even further.
There was no surprise on The Puppeteer's face, only a kind of near-cruel calm.
"Another lying little mouse."
Her voice was very soft, yet it clearly transmitted throughout the entire theater. "Wherever you have been, you will carry the scent of that place. Why do you always try to deceive me with such clumsy lies?"
"Hhh..." The woman in the purple gown let out one last sharp gasp, her body stiffened abruptly, then went limp, her head hanging powerlessly to one side, the deep purple hem of her gown spreading out like a flower that had suddenly withered.
The third box also fell silent.
Down below, the surviving players hardly dared to breathe.
Three VIP boxes, three honored guests, none spared, all died tragically. And the methods of death were more chilling than the last, as if no matter how they answered, there was only one preordained ending.
The Puppeteer's gaze shifted to the fourth VIP box without a ripple of emotion.
The atmosphere was stretched to the limit, the air filled with a heavy scent of blood and an aura of despair.
The faces of the surviving players below were deathly pale; some even covered their mouths, suppressing the urge to vomit. They looked at the woman on stage who controlled life and death, then at the three corpses in their various postures, feeling a chill crawl up their spines and strike their very souls.
Is this what a full-server dungeon is?
No room for bargaining, no possibility of maneuvering; simply because the method of entry was different, one must face such cruel erasure?
The one-way glass of the fourth box became transparent silently under The Puppeteer's gaze.
Inside sat a boy who looked very young, perhaps barely an adult, his face still holding a lingering touch of naivety.
He was clearly terrified; his body shook like a leaf in the wind, his teeth chattered, and his face was smeared with tears and snot, unable to even utter a complete sentence.
"Honored guest?" The Puppeteer's voice remained steady, showing no emotional fluctuation.
The boy shook his head violently, then nodded desperately, strange wheezing sounds coming from his throat, his hands waving wildly as if he wanted to explain something, or perhaps just reacting out of pure fear.
The Puppeteer seemed accustomed to this reaction, or rather, she didn't care at all.
Her pale fingers lifted once again, performing that chilling pulling motion.
"No... don't! I'll speak! I'll speak!"
The boy finally squeezed out a broken scream.
"I... I came from... from a pitch-black corridor! I... I am not an honored guest! And I am not a mouse! I didn't enter through the main gate! Don't kill me! Please don't kill me! Please don't kill me!"
He was incoherent, but his meaning was clear.
He admitted that he had snuck in from the corridor... but he didn't consider himself some kind of mouse.
Many players below showed expressions of pity, but more wore the coldness of those watching their own kind perish.
Having admitted it, can one really live?
The Puppeteer's fingers paused in mid-air.
She looked at the boy, who was sobbing uncontrollably and almost sliding off his chair, her hollow eyes devoid of any emotion.
"Honesty is a quality worth encouraging," she said softly.
Rate on N.U.
