The apocalypse begins with a dungeon game.

"If you ask me, we still need to unite and think of a solution, otherwise no one will survive in the end."

"Everyone has two chances to ask questions. I suggest everyone use one first, then there will be seven answers. After we discuss them together, we should be able to determine some general ideas about the soup base."

"Secondly, there's definitely something strange about that soup. It's best not to drink it yet, just in case it's poisonous."

"Also, remember to pluck a hair before you speak, or you'll end up like that poor brother. Be careful, because games with clear rules are the easiest way to kill someone."

"Although this is a dungeon where only one person can survive in the end, everyone should not get distracted in the early stages."

"Uniting all available forces is the only way out; otherwise, no one can get through this challenge. What are your opinions?"

He held a handful of hair he had just plucked in his hand, speaking as if he were taking out a loan, afraid that any slip of the tongue would be the start of the next sentence.

Just as he was about to catch his breath, someone suddenly slapped his shoulder, causing his shoulder blade to cave in instantly, making him wince in pain.

Turning my head, I saw a girl with long, straight black hair and a baby face standing beside me with a resolute expression.

She gestured for the man to look at the ground with the stick in her hand, and nodded in approval.

There was only one word written on the ground:

"OK".

The man looked at the words on the ground, then at the tuft of hair with the follicle still attached that he was holding in his hand, and suddenly felt as if a dozen ants were crawling all over his scalp.

"Okay, okay, it would be great if you agreed. It's just that the little girl has quite a strong grip. Ouch, your method of writing on the ground is quite good, but it's only suitable for a few words. It's inconvenient if you want to say more. Also, next time you want to write something for me, just give me a gentle reminder. You don't have to use your hands."

The baby-faced girl didn't respond, but drew a circle around the character "行" on the ground.

The Taoist-headed man: "..."

Then a young man with his hair half-tied up and only reaching his shoulders walked over.

"Master, I agree. Let's discuss what questions each person wants to ask, and try to get to the point."

"Alas, my good disciple, we are master and disciple, and now we must unite as one. I see that all the remaining people here are my juniors. As an elder, I can no longer hide in the back. That's why I stepped forward to take charge and lead you to a way out."

"Master, you've really worked so hard. Thank goodness you were here, sob sob sob, I was so scared just now."

The young man hugged his master tightly, finally finding an outlet for his pent-up emotions.

Li Can wiped the blood that had just been sprayed on his face with his sleeve while silently observing.

The young man with his hair half-tied up is probably a recent apprentice, conservatively estimated to be about six months old. He is deliberately growing his beard and hair long, and his stress resistance is slightly weaker.

However, we cannot rule out other coincidental factors, so this can only be used as a general reference.

The baby-faced girl surprised him; despite her seemingly thin and frail body, she possessed considerable strength and had hidden power.

Apart from player number 1612 who died in Li Can's arms, the remaining known players on the field have almost all taken sides.

After the baby-faced girl joined forces with the master and apprentice, the twins quietly followed.

"Sister, can we come with you?" The little girl in the twins held her brother's hand, carefully approaching the baby-faced girl, and looking up to observe her expression.

The girl didn't speak, but drew another circle on the character "行" on the ground with the stick in her hand, and beckoned the two children to come to her side.

Li Can felt that the current overall situation was not good.

The game seems fair by giving everyone two chances, but in reality, there are always differences in the order of the questions and answers, as well as various rules that hinder progress.

The rule that you have to pluck a single hair to speak safely is already complicated enough; if someone is a chatterbox, they'd probably pluck themselves bald.

Faced with the prospect of only one person surviving, although everyone seems to want to unite, in reality, each person harbors their own ulterior motives.

Nobody wants to be used to get all the information, watch others complete the game, and then die while they themselves are left to die.

First, Lee Chan admitted that he couldn't do it on his own.

This is a perfectly legitimate scheme to sow discord. The game aims to ensure that this group will never unite in the end, and will ultimately die in the struggle between people, rather than from the wrong "soup base".

Putting all that aside, what Li Can was really concerned about was the time issue in the last two rules her mother-in-law had mentioned.

The ward rounds before 12:30 a.m., the second bowl of soup in the canteen at 3 a.m., and the hourly chimes of the clock tower.

Time is important; we must first figure out the current time in the dungeon.

Although there was no clock in front of him, he could estimate the passage of time by having a death countdown from Earth in his mind.

Thinking of this, he looked at the building at the end of the dense forest in the distance, which should be Wenxin Mental Hospital.

In the darkness, the lights of a few windows could be faintly seen flickering, and there seemed to be figures moving inside.

These players are both "soup drinkers" and "patients" with identities.

Asking questions to the NPC grandma here is clearly not enough to complete the game.

The rules don't allow for random locations to appear out of nowhere. Ward rounds must be conducted in hospital wards, and the cafeteria is also a new setting.

These might be hiding clues; he needs to enter the hospital to investigate.

Before that, the best option is to pool everyone's resources to obtain seven clues before taking action.

Moreover, he also wanted to take this opportunity to learn about the origins of these players.

"Young man, come with us." The Taoist-haired man was squatting in front of Li Can, about to persuade him, when he stood up and casually pulled off the hospital gown from the corpse of player 1612 next to him.

After covering his head, which had rolled to the side, with his clothes, he walked toward where the rest of the people were standing.

"Where are you going? Hey, you should have just said you agreed earlier. I've made this whole trip for nothing." The Taoist-headed man chased after him angrily.

The group spontaneously formed a circle around the campfire, a little distance away from the grandmother.

The air was thick with the metallic smell, like heavily rusted metal soaked in greasy fat, exuding a putrid and sweet odor.

"Why did you bring his head here? It's creepy." The young man with his hair half-tied up covered the lower half of his face, his mouth and nose, and protested in a muffled voice:

"According to feng shui, this person died a violent death, and the evil energy on him is so strong that it can easily clash with the luck of the living."

Li Can waved his hand, and under everyone's watchful eyes, plucked a short, thick hair, stained with a few drops of blood, from the head of corpse 1612, and finally spoke his first words since entering the dungeon game:

"The rules only say that you can only speak after plucking a hair, but they don't specify whose hair it is. It's a ready-made communication terminal, and he himself has no objection."

"You can do that? Brother, lend me one." The baby-faced girl finally put down the wooden stick in her hand with a sigh of relief, bent down and pulled down a few as well.

"What a master! How come I didn't think of that?" The young man with his hair half-tied up lowered the sleeve covering his mouth and nose, his eyes filled with admiration as he looked at Li Can.

The Taoist-headed man silently stuffed the hairs with follicles still attached into his pocket, his lips twitching slightly.