The woman's scream cut off abruptly, and with it, every thought in the room fell silent. The men who had been yelling seconds before froze, realizing this was no longer a question of mere law—but of survival. This masked madman before them truly could kill.
Over a minute passed in suffocating stillness before the goat-masked man nodded approvingly. "Very good, nine of you are quiet now."
Faces went pale. None dared speak—he had spoken only of nine. Including himself, there were still ten living bodies around that table.
Qi Xia's trembling fingers peeled a sticky scrap of pale brain matter from his cheek. Warm and pulsing at first, it soon slumped like a deflated balloon.
"Allow me to introduce myself," the masked figure said, raising a blood-soaked finger to tap his goat-skull mask. "I am the Man-Goat. And you are my Participants."
A ripple of confusion passed through them. "Man-Goat"? "Participants"?
"I have gathered you here to play a game," he continued calmly, "a game whose victor will become a God."
Their brows furrowed in disbelief. After witnessing his brutality, the notion that this lunatic intended to "create a god" felt absurd.
"What kind of god?" the muscular man in the black T-shirt demanded, voice shaking.
"A god like Nüwa!" the Man-Goat exclaimed, gesturing wildly. "Once, Nüwa created humanity and mended the heavens with a rainbow. We cannot lose Nüwa—so we will make another! A grand task awaits our new God!"
His voice rose to a fever pitch as he paced, exuding that rank, rotting stench.
Nüwa… The idea made the strong man's stomach churn. "Are you some kind of cult?"
"Cult?" The goat-mask tilted inquisitively. "We are larger than any cult. We have a World."
Silence fell again. The balloon of rhetoric felt hollow. Most cults invent gods—they do not imitate a legendary creator.
"So what must we do to 'participate'?" the strong man pressed.
"A simple game," the Man-Goat replied without hesitation. "Win, and one of you ascends to godhood."
A tattooed man spat curses under his breath. "And if we lose?"
"Ah…" the goat-man frowned, glancing at the blood on his hand with genuine regret. "Then you all die."
No other path offered.
"You understand?" the Man-Goat murmured. "This game—called 'The Liars'—begins now."
He produced a stack of blank cards and set one before each person, then handed out pens. Each sheet landed on the blood-splattered table, turning crimson at the edges.
"Each of you will tell the story of how you arrived here," he instructed. "But among you, one will lie. After all nine have spoken, you must vote to identify the Liar. If eight of you choose correctly, the Liar is eliminated and the rest survive. If even one vote is wrong, the Liar lives—and everyone else dies."
"A Liar?" they echoed, incredulous. Would anyone dare lie at the brink of death?
"May we strategize?" the strong man asked.
"Feel free," the Man-Goat said, stepping back. "You have one minute."
The strong man surveyed them, avoiding the headless corpse. "Here's how everyone lives," he announced. "We all tell the truth—and when we vote, we write 'No One Lied.' That way we meet the rule, and nobody dies."
The man in the lab coat tapped his pen thoughtfully. "Clever… but only if you're not the Liar yourself. How do we trust you?"
The strong man bristled. "If I were the Liar, would I propose a plan where only I survive? I'd keep my mouth shut."
"Time's up," the Man-Goat said abruptly. "Stop talking."
They fell silent. The goat-man drew nine identity cards from his pocket—cards the size of poker, each stamped "Nüwa's Game."
"What are these?" the strong man demanded.
"Identity cards," the Man-Goat chuckled. "Those who draw 'Liar' must lie when telling their story."
The strong man ground his teeth. "You tricked us! Why didn't you explain this rule earlier?"
"To teach you respect for the rules," the Man-Goat replied coolly. "You wasted your minute begging to talk. Now draw."
Hands trembling, each of the nine drew a card. No one dared look—until Qi Xia did. Slowly, he flipped his card, revealing the chilling words: LIAR.