Qin Ziwen handed his weapon to the Beaked Eagle for safekeeping, then went down to the foot of the mountain by himself.

Soon, he noticed a man carrying an axe furtively making his way toward the woods.

Seeing this, the corners of Qin Ziwen’s mouth lifted. ’Just as I thought,’ he mused. ’With so many people, there’s bound to be someone slacking off.’

The man had just entered the woods and found a clearing to sit down in when a hand landed on his shoulder from behind.

The man jumped, scrambling to his feet. He spun around and saw Qin Ziwen standing behind him, mistaking him for a supervisor.

"I’m not slacking off! I was just coming over to see if there were any suitable trees," the man explained instinctively.

But he quickly realized something was off.

Because Qin Ziwen’s aura didn’t seem like that of someone from the mansion.

After scrutinizing him for a moment, he asked hesitantly, "Are you from the Urban Village?"

Qin Ziwen wasn’t surprised the other man didn’t recognize him. He just smiled and offered no explanation.

’How could over three thousand people all know each other? Besides, the guy doesn’t have any special identifying marks, like a yellow cloth on his shoulder or a green scarf on his head.’

"Fuck, you scared the shit out of me," the man grumbled, sitting back down.

"You guys look pretty exhausted," Qin Ziwen said, sitting down next to him.

At the mention of this, the man couldn’t help but curse. "Damn it, they’re a bunch of fucking animals, worse than my old boss! They’re working us like dogs."

At this, the man sized up Qin Ziwen, a suggestive smile spreading across his face. "You must be from the Urban Village, here to have some fun, right? What’s your type? How about I introduce you to a few? Fifth floor, Boss Xiang. He’s got the good stuff. Especially Guanguan—big tits, gets real wet, and a great ass."

Seeing Qin Ziwen’s expression remain unchanged, the man’s eyes darted around. "Not your type? Then how about the sixth floor? Sister He has a few college girls. They used to work part-time at a maid cafe. A little less experienced in bed, but..."

When Qin Ziwen’s face still showed no reaction, the man’s heart began to pound nervously. "You’re not into guys, are you? I mean, we have those too, but I can’t say if they’ll suit your tastes. I’m a pretty straight-laced guy myself. Not a fan of going in the back door."

The more he spoke, the more disgusted he felt.

He knew that in the last two "maps," too many people in the mansion had died. With so much death and high-intensity pressure, many had turned to debauchery to numb themselves, engaging in not just wild, but depraved acts.

But he was still a staunch traditionalist.

The man shrank back, silently scooting away as he watched Qin Ziwen leave.

「At the base of Hongding Mansion.」

Many people were moving in and out of the building.

Qin Ziwen walked straight inside, bold as brass.

The elevators had long been out of service. However, a few stairwells nearby were open.

Hongding Mansion was very tall, with a hollow interior. From above, its layout resembled two rectangular courtyards stacked one on top of the other.

Unlike newer office buildings, Hongding Mansion was built in ’05 and was one of Jiang City’s earliest high-rises.

Its construction was influenced by the architecture on the Island, which is why it retained an inner atrium.

The exterior walls had been renovated, but the internal space still had its original structure.

(P.S. The interior of Hongding Mansion is a modified version based on real photos of its prototype. The exterior is an office building, but the interior space is as depicted.)

In the stairwell, the floor was mopped clean, but the atrium’s inner walls were spattered with dried patches of blood.

The air was thick with an indescribably oppressive feeling.

Sour and rank, damp and stuffy.

Long poles hung in the hallways, with clothes drying on them.

Room after room had its door shut tight, though occasionally one would be left open.

Qin Ziwen reached the third floor. Ahead, a room had been knocked through, with many people going in and out. The smell of burning coal drifted from inside, accompanied by the clang of metal on metal.

’That must be the Blacksmith Shop around here.’

Qin Ziwen wanted to take a look, but two burly men were blocking the entrance to the Blacksmith Shop.

Qin Ziwen averted his gaze and continued upstairs.

This time, he carefully walked the entire floor. He confirmed that on the lower levels, floors 1-5, there were a total of five fire escape routes. Three of them were limited to floors 1-5, while the other two main emergency stairwells ran from floors 1-8. After reaching the eighth floor, you had to "go straight, turn left, then turn left again" to switch to a new staircase. This pattern repeated, with the two main emergency stairwells changing position every eight floors.

Qin Ziwen actually knew some of the reason for this. Hongding Mansion was connected to a shopping mall, and several of the lower-floor emergency exits led directly into it. But apparently, only the mansion had been transported here; the mall hadn’t come with it.

The emergency routes inside the mansion were extremely complex. Qin Ziwen silently committed their locations to memory.

When he reached the thirty-second floor, he found he could go no higher.

The emergency doors on both sides were blocked.

The floors above were clearly the "private space" of the upper echelons.

"What floor are you from?" a confused voice came from behind. A bald man in an apron, humming a tune while tying his pants, walked out of a room behind him.

Seeing that Qin Ziwen didn’t answer, a flash of vigilance crossed the bald man’s eyes. Just as he was about to turn back, Qin Ziwen rushed forward and seized him by the throat.

The man’s face turned a deep purple as he feebly pounded on Qin Ziwen’s sturdy arm.

Glancing around to make sure they weren’t seen, Qin Ziwen dragged him straight into the room he had just come out of.

Stepping into the room, Qin Ziwen froze as if someone had hit the pause button.

He stared blankly at the utterly shocking scene before him.

The room’s window was wide open. From the ceiling hung rows of iron racks, from which dangled dried and cured hands, legs, and other torsos—like slabs of cured meat, packed densely across the ceiling.

When the wind blew, they swayed as if waving.

On a table nearby sat a large blue plastic barrel, from which came the pungent stench of blood.

On the cutting board were freshly prepared "ingredients."

Qin Ziwen looked around in disbelief, his gaze finally falling on the bald man in his grip.

He casually closed the door behind him, then grabbed a deboning knife from the cutting board and pressed it to the man’s neck. "Scream and you die."

When the hand on his throat was released, the bald man coughed violently. But with every cough, the cold blade at his neck pressed an inch closer.

He trembled all over, crying as he said, "I’m just a chef! The person was already dead when they were brought here. If you want revenge, go find someone else!"

’Revenge?’

Qin Ziwen looked at the cutting board. Although the "ingredients" had been dismembered, he could tell that their owner had been young in life, with fair, tender skin. A severed head was placed nearby.

A cascade of black hair spilled over the edge of the bloodstained board.

In the air, besides the smell of blood, there was another, indescribable scent.

A flash of revulsion crossed Qin Ziwen’s eyes.

’Depraved isn’t a strong enough word for this.’

Seeing Qin Ziwen remain silent, the bald man quickly spilled everything. "The person had already stopped breathing when they brought her over! They said she jumped from the sixth floor when a client wasn’t looking. It has nothing to do with me!"

"How long have you been making this ’meat’?" Qin Ziwen asked.

"Meat?" The bald man paused. "You’re not from our building?"

...

...