Chapter 101: The First Day, The Council, The Exile

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The screen froze, and each person was randomly assigned a role.

“The first day’s daytime—The Exile Council is about to begin. Please discuss among yourselves and select a candidate you believe to be an assassin. The decision will be made by majority rule, and the chosen individual will be exiled. Now, the Exile Council officially begins. The meeting time is five minutes. Timing starts now.”

The nine of them looked at each other in silence for nearly thirty seconds.

Dongba Uncle tapped the table, as if suddenly struck by an idea.

“Well, how about this? Since it’s majority rule, why don’t those assigned as assassins simply admit it? That way, the majority of us candidates won’t waste time, and we can compensate the two assassin candidates accordingly. What do you all think?” Dongba’s proposal tempted everyone, except for the two assassins, who were surely cursing him silently.

“Exactly, yes! Assassins, stand up yourselves! As a regular wealthy merchant, I support this proposal.”

“Assassins, come forward. Don’t waste everyone’s time.”

“I’m a wealthy merchant.”

“Me too.”

And so on, one after another, people started revealing their identities, though it was all meaningless.

Everyone knew, if identities were revealed this easily, it would be better to forfeit the Hunter Exam.

Dongba scratched his rough face, feeling a little sheepish about his whimsical suggestion.

“Hmph! Such a meaningless proposal, stirring everyone up and clouding their judgment—I bet you’re one of the assassins yourself, rookie killer Dongba,” said a burly man with two cross-shaped scars on his face and shoulder-length parted hair, his gaze filled with disdain.

“Uh, Yano, you’re a veteran examinee, so you should know I don’t have a strong desire to become a hunter. Watching other newcomers fall into despair and lose their young, vibrant lives is what truly interests me. My suggestion wasn’t meant to confuse everyone; I just wanted to save time so we could quickly finish and then watch some lose their eligibility,” Dongba said, standing up with a sly smile. As he spoke the last sentence, his eyes locked onto the silent Haoren.

Noticing Dongba’s gaze, Haoren returned a bright smile, but his eyes showed no warmth.

Dongba’s expression turned cold. Irritated, he slammed himself back into his seat, clearly annoyed.

“Well then, Mr. Dongba, are you a wealthy merchant?” Saya blinked her big, anime-like eyes, her tone laced with a bit of coyness.

“Indeed, little sister, I am a wealthy merchant. If necessary, I can try to help you during the upcoming exams,” Dongba admitted. It was hard to deny that the pure and innocent Saya held a charm that captivated all ages and genders. Even Dongba, who usually had no interest in women and was focused only on tricking examinees, couldn’t help but feel protective toward her.

“Really? Thank you so much,” Saya’s soft, delicate voice made Dongba moan involuntarily, as if he had eaten a magical fruit.

But the hostile glares from the other male candidates snapped Dongba back to reality. He cleared his throat and put on a serious face.

Watching a human-shaped creature desperately trying to act cute, Haoren shivered all over and sighed.

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What did it matter if the victims weren’t his comrades?

Still, Saya’s uncanny charm made Haoren furrow his brows. Her allure was probably an unsealed skill; otherwise, how else could one explain such a strange effect? If not for his strong impression from the original game scene, Haoren might have fallen for it himself.

“If you ask me, the assassins should just reveal themselves. If I lose time because of some assassin candidate and thus lose my exam eligibility, I will never forgive them!” said a stern man with close-cropped hair and thin-framed glasses. He looked fierce as he dragged his tongue along the blade of his dagger, drawing a bit of blood.

“Kuroda, you’re a lousy professional killer. With such a ferocious face, your targets would have fled before you even got close. I think you’re the assassin; it suits your profession well,” said a middle-aged man with a samurai topknot, a black eyepatch over his left eye, wearing a traditional robe and holding a wooden sword. It seemed he had some grudge against Kuroda.

“Musashi! If you hadn’t stopped me, I would have passed the last Hunter Exam already! If you want to keep your life...” Kuroda’s eyes flashed dangerously, his threat unmistakable.

Musashi sneered but didn’t reply, clearly ignoring Kuroda’s warning.

Kuroda’s veins bulged with frustration; if it weren’t for the prior rule forbidding violence, a brawl would have erupted then and there.

These two were seated next to each other—did Riber really not fear them fighting?

“Everyone, calm down. I think personal grudges should be set aside here to avoid misleading the group’s judgment. If we mistakenly exile key roles like the Prophet, our chances of winning will be slim,” said a round-headed young martial artist from an ancient country. Seeing the tense atmosphere like a powder keg, he looked flustered and nearly on the verge of tears.

“So you’re implying you’re a wealthy merchant? That’s rather clever,” Itou Makoto, who had been silent for a while, suddenly shot a remark, leaving the youth stunned.

The reason Itou spoke up was that when the youth talked, Saya had cast a gentle glance at him. Itou, who fancied himself a charming young man, found that besides himself, the only other person close to winning Saya’s favor was the martial artist Shaolin. As for Haoren and Saya, their conflict was obvious; if anyone was least likely to catch Saya’s eye, it was Haoren.

So, fueled by jealousy, Itou aimed at Shaolin.

“Sitting beside my goddess is unforgivable!” was Itou’s true sentiment.

Shaolin sat to Itou’s left, with Saya on Shaolin’s left, placing Itou and Saya separated by Shaolin—likely another reason Itou fired.

No wonder this walking cannonball had a brain filled with crude instincts, prioritizing eliminating potential rivals.

The ninja Kazemaru, seated to Itou’s right, remained silent while pulling out a small notebook, seemingly recording something.

“Time’s up! The first day’s Exile Council ends. Candidates, please select one person you wish to exile. Your buttons correspond to the others. Begin your selection.”

Everyone immediately became cautious, eyes scanning each face.

“Voting ends. Now, the results will be announced.”

Yano chose candidate No. 203, Kuroda.

Dongba chose No. 213, Black Flame Dragon.

Musashi chose No. 203, Kuroda.

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Kuroda chose No. 106, Musashi.

Black Flame Dragon chose No. 600, Saya.

Kazemaru chose No. 16, Dongba.

Itou chose No. 527, Shaolin.

Shaolin chose No. 203, Kuroda.

Saya chose No. 213, Black Flame Dragon.

“You all!” Furious at the results, Kuroda stood and pulled out his dagger, intending to throw it at Musashi on his right.

But an unknown force restrained him, and with a reluctant scream, Kuroda, along with his sofa, fell into a suddenly opened pit below.

“During exile, the exiled person will be isolated in a single monitored room. They can watch the game’s progress on the room’s television and may only return to the ‘Hunter’s Kill’ game room after being rescued by the pharmacist or when the game ends.”

Seeing the vacant spot left by the exiled, a chill ran through everyone’s hearts.

The room’s lights dimmed.

“The first night begins. Night activities start. Assassins, choose one target to attack. Hunters, choose one person to protect. Pharmacists, choose whether to use poison or antidote. Prophets, select a role to divine and learn their identity. Wealthy merchants, choose someone you suspect.”

Everyone pressed their buttons, awaiting the results.

The room plunged into total darkness for a moment, leaving everyone unsettled.

Then, the clashing sound of swords filled the air as the room gradually brightened.

“...Eight? Did no one disappear?” Shaolin counted on his fingers and was surprised to find that except for the recently exiled Kuroda, no one was missing.

Perplexed.

“The night has passed. The wealthy merchant was protected by the hunter and was not assassinated by the assassins.”

“Day two is about to begin.”